Ready or Not

Celesse weren’t able to use her speed to her advantage, having expended her energy back when she was carrying Benjamin on her back—and cloaking him with her ability to grow invisible. She was going down the pristine, eerily empty corridors. That Siren waltzed in and placed everyone (almost her) under a spell; The Siren’s Call. In all of her years working in the city, she never came across a unique opponent, never having to fight supernaturals as she’s been in the past two days alone. She stopped in her tracks, in a four-way hallway that connected all together. Relying on her senses, she stood still. Time slowed down around her as her hearing reached out, hearing for a faint heartbeat among the others. At first, she couldn’t find it. Too many hearts beating at once, minus the ones with no heartbeat at all—this hospital was run by zombies anyhow.

Then, by chance, like reaching out to fingertips, grazing her hearing. It came rushing back, the one sound of a faint heartbeat. Once she grasps the metaphorical hand by the wrist, she kept hold as her eyes opened back up. Turning towards the left, she started running despite her energy near gone at this point. Celesse could hear it getting closer and closer at each door passing her by. From room 300 to eventually standing outside of 308, the heartbeat was coming from behind this door. Celesse opened the door, finding the Siren pushing down on the plunger of some substance.

“What are you doing?” She asked, causing the female to turn.

The Siren looked surprised, yet satisfied, like she just took candy from a baby. “Taking care of this poor Soldier.”

Celesse’s eyebrow furrowed. She noticed the black duffel off to the side, stringing the pieces together. Then, looking back at the woman, “You’re dead.”
 
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Damn. Benjamin felt like he'd been hit by a train. Between his injuries and the sedatives, his body was responding sluggishly. He had to fight the overwhelming desire to fall back into the darkness. But that woman was there trying to steal him away, and he wasn't ready to die yet. Why was she trying to kill him, anyway...? She seemed to believe she was doing him a kindness, but it was a kindness he hadn't asked for.

As he fought his way into consciousness and his vision cleared he saw the hospital gown, his feet at the end of the bed, the pulse oximeter on his finger, the IV in his arm. Then he slowly recalled the route Celesse had taken him on from the SIB. He could have groaned. The hospital. No wonder he was tempted to just die. And then he became aware of the woman at his bedside, injecting something into his line.

She looked just like the woman in his dream but, well... fully clothed. This couldn't be good. His heart rate jumped, even moreso as Celesse entered the room. How was it she was always around? Perhaps with luck, this was just a bad dream, too. But Benjamin knew that wasn't the case. He was relieved to see his arm covered in his familiar tattoos as he reached over to the IV, trying to pull the needle out of his arm. They had covered it in that stupid medical tape, though, and he was having trouble getting it off. He felt drunk.

Hazel barred the way between Celesse and the IV drip in the small room. She only needed a couple minutes for the fentanyl to do its work. In just a few seconds as the drug hit his bloodstream he would get drowsy and fall back into unconsciousness. Then he'd stop breathing and his body would slowly be deprived of oxygen until he was just gone. The process was quick.

"Come on now, it's just a job," Hazel held up her hands defensively. She wasn't a fighter, which was why she turned down so many contracts. She had immense strength and her Song, but that was about it as far as her supernatural abilities went. "You of all people should understand that," she said, trying to stall for time.

Behind her, Benjamin had given up on using his fumbling fingers and instead grabbed the line in his teeth, ripping it out of his arm. Fentanyl was just as colourless as the IV drip. It was impossible to tell how much had made it into his bloodstream, if any. The IV machine let out a series of frantic beeps as it noticed the now unrestricted flow of fluid and Hazel cursed, quickly silencing the box to avoid anyone else from entering the room. She grabbed her bag and leaped over the bed to put her target between her and the other assassin, buying her precious seconds of time as she prepared another syringe. This time she would plunge it directly into his heart. She couldn't fail this. The demon would rip her to shreds, literally.
 
Celesse mentally prepared herself against the Siren, if she were to use her ability again. She looked past the woman, seeing the agent moving to remove the IV. He looked completely out of it, but nothing she couldn’t help. Then, she looked to the woman again, talking to her while holding her hands up in defence.

“You of all people should understand that.” She spoke, but Celesse had a feeling it was to stall time.

Whatever was plunged into his line was making its way into his vein, though she couldn’t tell what. She didn’t take her eyes off the Siren, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She knew what she was talking about. But the ex-soldier couldn’t know that she was under contract to extract what she needed from him. Celesse’s attention turning back to the soldier at the frantic beeps going off. He had torn out the IV drip. She wondered if he would need a bandage. Celesse watched, seeing her leap over the bed, wedging herself between Benjamin and herself. In the movement, she caught the woman’s hands reaching for something deep within the confines of her bag.

She deduced it as likely being the same drug she plunged into his drip. The shapeshifter watched as she quite literally stabbed the agent in the heart, her thumb pressing down on the plunger. Celesse was too slow to get there in time, watching as the substance emptied into the male. She would rip the syringe out and kick the Siren away, with enough force to send her into the wall. Celesse put pressure down his chest, not helping in his current situation, “Damn it, Benny boy. You have the worst luck. I swear you’re tempting death at this point.” She would hiss as the Siren was reaching towards the door.
 
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Benjamin grunted as he felt the syringe slide through his ribs and into his heart. With the IV out his sedative was wearing off quickly. It helped to clear his mind, but it also flooded him with pain from his wounds. He grabbed the siren's wrist as she depressed the plunger and sent the fluid directly into his blood stream, but his grip was weak, his fingers barely even applying pressure to her skin.

"Rest well, dear soldier. You've earned it," Hazel placed a kiss on Benjamin's forehead before she was kicked away, wincing as she slammed into the wall, shaking the building. That shapeshifter had an unreasonable amount of strength, even after everything she had been through tonight. Her job accomplished, however, the siren quickly grabbed her bag and ran out of the room, doing her best to leave her peaceful song with the man dying in the hospital bed.

Benjamin winced as Celesse pushed down on his chest, aggravating fractured ribs. He grabbed her by the front of the scrubs she'd been given, using the last of his strength to draw her in close. "If you let me die here, I swear to God I will haunt you to the very end of your days. Do you understand me?" he growled through gritted teeth, but already he felt his strength waning. It was ebbing away like the tide. He could hear the woman in his dream calling his name again, enticing him into the darkness. "Find... the antidote," he managed, pointing to the bottle that had been left on the bedside table in Hazel's rush to leave. It was the last thing he said, his eyes falling closed and his body relaxing. On the monitor screen his oxygen levels began to plummet. And then in seconds, he stopped breathing.

The male nurse who had rushed off to do Celesse's bidding knocked on the door and poked his head inside. "Er, is everything alright...? The anesthesiologist-" he was pointing down the hallway, but he froze as he saw the numbers on the patient's diagnostic screen plummeting, alarms starting to go off. "Oh damn."
 
Celesse’s hand let up on the pressure of his chest, to be pulled close to Ben. She wanted to crack a joke, but there was a dying man using the last of his strength to threaten her. His grip on the shapeshifter’s scrubs waning, her line of sight following his finger to the antidote on the bedside table. She looked back to see the agent grow fully limp, his arm hanging off the bedside like a horror cliché happening.

“Damn.” She cursed, reaching for the antidote on the bedside. Her eyes scanned the room. What use was it panicking in a situation like now. Celesse was ready to rip through the drawers off to the corner when the male nurse knocked, peaking his head inside at the wrong moment.

“Where’s the damn needles?” She asked, more like commanded.

The Nurse pointed to the third drawer below. She yanked it open, hearing the contents hit against the wood. Celesse grabbed a clean needle, ripping the packaging open to grabbing the plastic top off between her teeth and spit it out to the side. She sank the needle into the clear substance, the side read, Naloxone.

“T-that’s temporary.” He stuttered out.

Celesse shot him a glare, aware as she could read the large anti-dote sticker on the side. What assassin leaves an antidote out after attempting to kill a man? Well, technically she killed the agent. Almost like what the siren did moments before, she stabbed the needle straight into his heart and pushed on the plunger, pulling it back out. Celesse stood back to let the Nurse get to work as the other staff just came rushing into the room. One of the Nurse’s were telling her to leave.

“I don’t think so.” She threatened them, “You-”

The Male Nurse from before wedged himself between the two, “I got this. She’ll stay out of the way, but I don’t think she’s leaving anymore. That anaesthesiologist did something to him.” Celesse waited in the corner, her eyes never leaving the agent’s corpse as they went to work on him.
 
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The emergency of the situation had cleared any last trails of the siren's song from befuddled minds. The alert for a Code Blue came over the hospital intercom and the team was dispatched. Benjamin had flatlined, his condition deteriorating almost immediately after the fatal injection. There was a sickening crunching noise as one of the nurses began CPR while they waited on the arrival of the code team, his already fractured ribs giving way under the force of the attempt to restart his heart.

The Naloxone was quick to counteract the Fentanyl overdose, but the compounding trauma of the rest of his injuries were likely too much to overcome. He was, after all, just a mortal.

Celesse was quickly pushed to the back of the room as the code team arrived with a cart in less than two minutes. The hospital gown was cut open to show the deep bruising all over Benjamin's chest and the neat bandage that covered the stitches that held the wound under his ribcage closed.

"Charging!"

"Clear!"

The physician pressed the paddles of the defibrillator on either side of Benjamin's chest, running a current across his heart to try and restart it. The reaction was violent, his whole body arching with the charge - but there was no effect.

"Set up the IV, get him some epinephrine!" One of the nurses scuttled to flush the IV line before re-threading the needle in Benjamin's arm and adding a continuous flow of adrenaline.

"Charging!"

"Clear!"

They ran the defibrillator two more times to no effect. The nurses were sweating, the packed room was sweltering with the heat of so many bodies under so much stress lined up like sardines in a can.

"We'll give it one more go, then call it," the physician said, wiping the moisture from his brow.

"Charging!"

"Clear!"

There was a spike on the monitor, then another smaller one, and then a weak, steady pulse. There was a visible slump of relaxation amongst the medical personnel present.

"Get him on some oxygen, stat. We need to stabilize him, see if we can't get that pulse stronger. Good work, everyone."
 
Celesse leaned against the back wall, crossing her arms over her chest. Wondering why it wasn’t working, all those Doctor and Medical shows she saw couldn’t have been for nothing. Then, again, they were entertainment shows, not reality. The shapeshifter didn’t want to worry that he wouldn’t wake up. In the short time she knew him, there was one thing: this man was a mule—and easy to tick off. If he didn’t wake up and if he truly did haunt her, she could just say, “You didn’t wake up, it’s your fault.”

She closed her eyes, hearing the charging noise ramp up and the yells from the medical staff working. While she couldn’t not picture Benjamin getting mad at her, she was trying to not think about how enclosed the space had become. Everyone in that one room manage to make her sweat, tiny drops accumulated on her temple. The process repeating thrice, Celesse was internally sucking in the idea that he might not come back. Or the fact that this stubborn mortal would die without any friends. Hell, did he even have any family?

‘Who’s gonna take care of that shack you call a home?’ Celesse wondered, keeping her eyes closed and ears open. As if the man was going to come back just to answer her question, she heard it, a beep come through. This caused her to open an eye, seeing the monitor beeping, albeit weak. At least, there was a pulse even there. Celesse forgot how fragile humans could be, she remembered a time when…

Celesse closed her eye again, “Looks like you failed on your promise to haunt me.” She whispered to no one in particular. As if he could hear her remark.
 
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The code team cleared out and took their equipment with them to give the rest of the nurses room to work. They made notes and adjusted medication levels, spending the next twenty minutes in relative quiet after the chaos of the last five, murmuring to each other in hushed tones. Finally as Benjamin's condition stabilized the physician came over to Celesse, taking her by the elbow and leading her out of the room for some fresh air.

"Look... we don't know who that woman was who claimed to be the anesthesiologist, but it's clear that she came with ulterior motives." The physician looked uncomfortable. It was rare for a mortal to be admitted to this hospital, and they had almost lost him because of their lax security measures. "We believe it is in our patient's best interest to label his file as 'deceased' for the time being, until we can get to the bottom of this matter. There is still a great chance that he won't make it through," the man said with a glance back at the room. "Only twelve percent of resuscitated patients make it out the doors of a hospital, and he has a long recovery ahead. But, whoever want him killed, well... we don't want to give them the chance to try it again." He looked back down at Celesse. "We've put him on a new sedative, a medically-induced coma. His body has experienced an enormous amount of trauma. We'll keep him like that for oh- say about three days to start. We'll reevaluate how he's doing then and proceed from there. We'll have to check his brain function as well. We were able to get oxygen to him quickly, but there's still the change damage was done." The zombie took in a deep breath, suddenly looking weary. "There is no emergency contact in his file, no next of kin. Are you aware of anyone we would need to contact?"
 
Celesse enjoyed the noises the medical staff were making. It kept her mind off other pressing issues. She leaned against that wall for what seemed like an eternity before she was gently pulled away, causing her to open her eyes. The shapeshifter was going to protest when she noted the urgent look in his eye. Celesse spared a glance to the agent on the table before being brought out into the hallway. The air shifted from hot to cool, giving her a feeling of sweet bliss.

She fanned her face with her right hand, not knowing how much she endured until the physician did her a kind gesture of bringing her out. Listening to the male as he spoke, she could claim a fault of bringing him here. Most supernaturals that came to this particular hospital could handle themselves if they were attacked. However, there was some unspoken law that opponents weren’t able to attack while the other was in hospital. At least there was partial respect in recovery.

Celesse stopped fanning her face. The zombie was smart, she’d give him that. If they list him as dead, at least that’d give her time to not get attacked or keep saving her damsel in distress. She nodded to this suggestion. But stopped shortly after he brought up the grimmer news, Benjamin would be in a medically induced coma. The shapeshifter cracked her knuckles; she was worried, but she didn’t want to express it. No, she wouldn’t allow it. As he continued to explain further of what would happen, Celesse couldn’t help but blank out for a second. Why the hell couldn’t this contract have been easy? Who the hell else was after Benjamin?

Celesse shook her head, “Far as I know, I’m the only friend that poor sod has.” She’d retort, “I don’t mind being here to watch over him. I have all the time to kill.” She added, it was a plain fact. As a shapeshifter, she couldn’t recall how old she was now. Though she wasn’t that ancient to surpass the Council’s members. If there was only one thing the shapeshifter cared about in the world, it was: money and her damn cat.

‘Shit. Forgot that furball existed.’ Celesse was a horrendous owner. She wondered if she should give him up. Things seem like they were going downhill, faster than she expected.
 
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The nurses were stunned by Benjamin's recovery during the three days they had him locked in a coma. His brain scans checked out fine, and his wounds were healing as quick as could be by mortal standards. They were almost tempted to believe he was one of them, but his blood tests all came back negative. If stubbornness was a supernatural gift, Benjamin Credit had it in spades.

They were surprised too by Celesse's diligence to the unconscious patient. Three days was a long time to wait, but she rarely left him unattended. For someone not related to or in a relationship with Benjamin, she was awfully concerned with his wellbeing. The staff at the hospital had tried multiple times to reach out to anyone who might know of any next of kin, but they kept coming up blank. His parents were both dead, as was an older brother- his only sibling. After that, it seemed like Benjamin had just stopped making any meaningful connections.

Around lunch time on the third day the physician on duty came to alert Celesse that they had taken Benjamin off the sedative and were waking him up now. "We ask that you stay out of the room while we perform a few preliminary tests, but as long as he's feeling up to it you should be able to see him after that," she told the shapeshifter where she stood guard.

---

Benjamin felt miserable. Whatever drug they'd had him on was one of the better ones he'd ever had for putting him in a stupor. He woke up slowly, unable to process the sights and sounds that were flooding his brain. His mouth was dry, his tongue sticking to the ridged roof of it. His arms and legs felt heavy and numb.

"Mr. Credit? ...Mr. Credit?"

The nurse swam into focus in front of him and he took a deep breath and let it out, his whole chest blooming in pain. "What do you want?" he asked crankily.

The nurse smiled, resting her hand on his shoulder. "It's good to have you back, Mr. Credit. We're going to run a few tests, and then if you're up for it it looks like you have a visitor."

Where was he...? A visitor? His platoon... they were all dead. As Benjamin complied with their testing, shining a light into his eyes to check dilation and asking him to move all his limbs, the recent events that had led him here slowly started coming back. Harold. Isabella and her vampire lakeys. That woman who had tried to murder him... he closed his eyes tight. This was the closest he had been to death - in fact, the nurses shared that he had, by all medical accounts, died - in a long time. It felt just as awful as he remembered it.

The nurses finished in about fifteen minutes, their last task to take some blood samples to run tests on, see how his body was responding now that he was out of the coma. The physician returned to Celesse. "He's awake now, just still a little groggy," she informed the other woman. "Take it slow, and you should be fine."
 
Three days gone by, Celesse rarely checked her phone. The Nurse, who she was familiar with, had to remind her to eat and drink. She would not admit to anyone that she was worried about the fragile mortal recovering on that slab of a bed. The only time she left, when it was urgent, was to use the restroom or even clean up—though she stuck with the scrubs they gave her, only changing twice after that. To pass the time, she would pace in front of the door, give a long hard look to anyone who passed by. Then, when she got deep into her thoughts, she wondered how such a brute male came to be in SIB anyhow. She’d dismiss it, remembering the amount of accomplishments on his resume. The shapeshifter didn’t want to admit it, but even if she was there to collect the money, she was starting to worry he might never wake up.

The contract popped up in her mind more than twice, wondering what information could be vital to Alaric, anyhow. Celesse was leaning against the wall beside the door to room 308, her eyes closed and hearing still alert to the surrounding sounds. She could hear the Nurses gossip while they worked on the agent, only capturing glimpses of the Agent. When she was allowed, she would opt to stay in the room, always stationed by the door in case something happened. She felt like his personal bodyguard. Now, she was just a little ways in the waiting room after being coaxed away for much-needed food. Usually, she would look presentable, but she was growing pale. The tiredness clung to her eyes, dark circles rimmed her eyes. She was ready to bite into the chicken & rice when the physician came up to her. A hopeful look in her eye as she relayed that the agent would wake up soon.

Celesse abandoned her food, it was still steaming while she was briskly following the nurse. Who turned around to say, “We ask that you stay out of the room while we perform a few preliminary tests, but as long as he’s feeling up to it you should be able to see him after that.” The supernatural nodded to her words, tucking a greasy strand of raven hair behind her ear. Celesse stationed herself next to the door, chewing on her bottom lip, wondering if he would remember. She read some pamphlets about medically induced comas while she was guarding his room. She closed her eyes and resumed leaning against the wall like a statue.

The door opened to the physician coming out, causing her to open an eye at her, “He’s awake now, just still a little groggy. Take it slow, and you should be fine.” Celesse silently nodded. She’d been silent these past days, only talking when it was required. Other than that, she was unusually up inside her head, especially about how she would talk to the agent. Would he be mad that she was still around? There were some lingering questions like that. The shapeshifter pushed off the wall and look towards the door, her hand wrapped around the knob and she entered.

“You look like shit.” Was the first thing she said.
 
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They had tilted Benjamin's bed up into a sitting position and then gave him the controls, including a button for a morphine drip that he was desperate not to use. He hated how foggy his mind was. The past and the present were jumbled in an uncomfortable mess, like someone had upturned all the file cabinets of his mind and mixed all the contents. The most confusing memories were the most recent ones, which made dealing with his emotions difficult. He couldn't shake the feeling of being stuck in that military hospital in Landstuhl, Germany. "They're dead," he'd been told over and over and over, concussion making him forget every time.

"You wish you looked this good," Benjamin shot back as Celesse entered the room, resting back against the mattress and closing his eyes. She really did look awful, like she hadn't slept in a couple days, but he couldn't help the feeling of relief as he saw her. She was alive. Not that she had ever seemed in danger, but... hospitals, man. You woke up one day and all your friends were gone. "I told you not to bring me here," he opened his eyes to look at her again. He had been tense while the nurses were around, poking and prodding and ordering him about, but he was relaxed now. "I'd say you were trying to get me killed, but I guess you didn't like the idea of me haunting you for the rest of your life." The bruising underneath his eyes from when Harold had broken his nose had almost cleared out, but left a faint ring that increased the sunken look of his eyes. In just three days he had lost five pounds already, and while it was difficult to tell now, any more and it would begin to show. He turned his head to look out the window, quiet for a long moment. "Does dying give me any right to some straight answers from you?" he finally asked.
 
Celesse snorted at his response, going to grab the stool on wheels from underneath the sink and sit on it. To lighten the mood, she started scooting over to Ben’s side, the stool squeaking with each scoot until she was right next to him. She couldn’t help but smile to his snarky responses, glad that she wouldn’t have to report back to Alaric about another failed mission. Harold was just a fluke, but it was a fluke that would damage her own resume. The shapeshifter propped her elbow up on the bed, using her hand to hold her head to the side as she locked gazes with the Agent. He was complaining about being brought to the hospital, she’d have to tell him that she was no doctor.

“Well, if you spoke up instead of hanging onto my back like a monkey. I might’ve heard you.” She joked.

The amount of misfortune that befell him was astonishing. Celesse could say he was practically a magnet for the worst, even as she still hung around him like a moth to a flame. They sat in silence for a long while, Celesse only sparing a glance to him when he turned to look out the window instead.

“Does dying give me any right to some straight answers from you?” Benjamin said suddenly, breaking the silence.

She looked at him again, her chin was resting on the bed now. Celesse looked like a child, but she was tired. She closed her eyes and thought for a moment. It would be fair to give him some straight answers. He was thrusted into a world like a toddler and he died and was brought back to it. Celesse opened her eyes again, “Shoot.”
 
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Benjamin tried to stop it from happening, but Celesse's antics tugged at the corners of his lips, eliciting a faint smile. "Damn you," he muttered under his breath as she finally rolled the stool next to the hospital bed. This childish idiot, winking at him in the middle of a battle and giving him a thumbs up as a vampire stuck her hand in his chest. Despite her attempts to assure him in that thick French accent that she was no one of consequence, she kept showing up. And now it looked as if she had refused to leave his side during the medically-induced coma. Maybe she was a guardian angel. The thought made him snicker internally.

He was surprised to hear her comply. Although, Benjamin mused, she could always back out or refuse to answer any questions he asked. The ones he had weren't so different from those he'd asked that night at his house, anyway. "What are you?" was the quick, easy first question he practically blurted out. "Your eyes..." He looked back at her, how innocent she seemed with her chin propped up on the bed like a child. He looked away again. "I couldn't ever figure it out. That night at the bar, they were golden for a second. I know what I saw," he said firmly.

The more he spoke, the more his mind cleared and the more he wondered what the hell he was supposed to do now. The physician had told him that they had gone ahead and processed his death certificate. He was considered deceased. Benjamin couldn't explain why that gave him a sense of relief, like a pressure off his shoulders. But what did that mean for his house? His life? What was he supposed to do now? Could he return to the SIB? Did he /want/ to return to a place that kept trying to murder him? That assassin... he knew what she was now. He'd read up on them in that book about mermaids. Siren. As far as he knew, she was still out there.
 
Celesse knew this would be the first question, so he did see her change eye colour that night. She mulled over the answer in her head for a split second before answering, “Shapeshifter.” She’d respond. At least that weight was out of the way. It would be better to admit this, then he wouldn’t have to spend energy to trying to figure out what she is. Celesse decided giving a few honest answers would help her get closer to him. She knew it was a dirty gimmick, but how else was she going to get what she needed?

“Now that, that cat is out of the bag. What else was on your pretty little head?” She joked, watching him with interest.

Celesse had to admit that he was practically homeless now. Probably out of a job now that they declared him dead. She wondered if the Siren was smiling right now for thinking she snuffed him out of this world. Her eyes had wandered to his hand, seeing the oximetry on his finger, then back up at him again, “Sorry, I don’t mean to be right, but…where are you going to stay now? You can’t go back to that shack you call a home.” She remarked informally. She softly sighed. Right now, this bed was comfortable to her chin. She closed her eyes again. Celesse could use a long, hot shower after this, if death didn’t want to whisk Benjamin off on a date again.
 
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Benjamin was unaware of just how intently he was watching her, waiting for this response. Of course, in his few short weeks in Seattle he had not had the chance to explore /every/ possibility of supernatural existences, but of the ones he did know, she fit none of them. His closest guess had been vampire, but it seemed likely that if that was the case, he would have become lunch long ago.

"Shapeshifter?" he echoed in surprise, his expression going slack as he mulled this over in his mind. He'd known of the possibility of their existence, but... the SIB hadn't had any concrete information on whether they were real or not. "Shapeshifter," he said again, eyes narrowed slightly as he looked back at her. Well... that certainly did explain quite a few things. Her eyes, of course, and then why the hell she had been waiting in the bathroom stall at the SIB while he'd been tortured. She must have snuck in as a fly or - he thought of when the vampire had found her in the stall and threw her out of the room. He thought it'd been so fast he hadn't seen her, but was it possible she could be invisible? Of course, this all depended on if she were telling him the truth. But she had no reason not to. If she didn't want to answer the question, she could have just balked like she did back at his house.

Benjamin looked away again as she turned the question back on him, it hit too close to home. He'd never really belonged anywhere, but having a house was a safe home base to return to. Now he didn't even have that. "I dunno, I guess I'll get an apartment or something. I'm certainly not staying here," he said gruffly as the door opened and the nutritionist brought him some lunch on a cafeteria tray.

"You're welcome to hop up on the bed with him if you want to be close, dearie," the older woman said, patting Celesse's head before leaving just as quickly as she'd arrived. Benjamin snickered, popping open the top on the water bottle and downing the contents in one go. The rest of the food, however, he was unsure about. For the main course there was a brown blob of meat covered in an even browner sauce, a roll, some broccoli that had been steamed to mush, and yogurt for desert. "Next question - why the hell do you always show up right where I am? And that night at Vlad's... why is it so important to you that you're in contact with me? What am I to you?"
 
Celesse was listening to this answer weigh in his mind. It really must’ve been a shock if he was repeating himself. She opened her right eye to catch him staring at her with narrowed eyes. ‘Well, at least he knows now.’ She thought to herself. She was going to ask him something else, but kept quiet, remembering he was the investigator in this moment. Celesse was content to sleep in that spot, if she could, but it was awfully uncomfortable. Despite of how comforting the bed was. Benjamin answered her question, Celesse was going to extend a helping hand when the door came open. An older woman came in with a cafeteria tray, “You’re welcome to hop up on the bed with him if you want to be close, dearie.” She felt the hand atop her head.

Soon as she left, Celesse snorted again. How absurd of a statement was that? Quite out of this world. Literally. She looked to Ben, arching a brow at his boyish snicker and practically inhale the water. Her eyes fully open to eye the mush on his tray, she wrinkled her own nose in disgust at it. Hospitals were well off for treating the wounded, but they carried the worst sort of food. She looked back up at Ben again as he asked his next question. This made her sit upright and spin in the chair a few times, the squeaks apparent when she didn’t answer for a long time. The spinning stopped when she faced him again, “You should eat. You need to regain your strength.” She avoided answering those questions, at least for the moment. “But if helps ease your head, those were all coincidences, literally.” That was a vague answer, but it was the truth – which was what he was looking for.
 
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Benjamin wasn't surprised at Celesse's dodge in answering his question. He had to give it to her, though, she was at least trying to offer him something. "You know I literally came back from the dead to get the answers to these questions, right?" he said wryly, picking up the roll from the tray and tearing it in half. He was, he suddenly found, ravenously hungry. He devoured the roll and the yogurt, but when it came to the main course he balked. "Shit," he muttered. "You think I'm supposed to regain energy from this?" He held up the plate, which even at a fourty-five degree angle the 'meat' remained welded to the ceramic, and the 'sauce' on top didn't budge an inch. He tossed the dish back onto the tray, grumpy.

Benjamin could see how the bar and the club could potentially be very lucky coincidences. But her showing up at the SIB...? He had a string of text messages on his phone suggesting that someone had tipped her off that he was in trouble. But why? He didn't get it. He didn't have anything someone would want, not that he knew of. Until he'd moved to Seattle he had lived a perfectly normal, invisible life. They're watching you.

"You should go home," he said finally, looking back at her again. "They've taken me off 'high risk' status and I'm already dead so no one can kill me," Benjamin shrugged. "And you really do look awful," he added pointedly, the pot calling the kettle black. He needed to get out of here as quickly as possible. He knew the staff didn't want to discharge him for a couple more weeks, but as soon as he could be on his feet without passing out, he'd check himself out.
 
Celesse felt like a horse today, snorting at the many ridiculous words going around today. She wondered if she should eat hay at this point. “I’m well aware. I carried a sand bag halfway from the police department.” She retorts, her own stomach was churning in hunger at this point. But no amount of hospital food would make her eat. A smile graced her lips at the food he was showing to her, “Yep. I get to regain mine from actual food.” She winked at him, practically grinning at this situation. Though it faded when she remembered it was her fault that he was even in this situation. Or was it really? The ex-soldier brought hell upon him when he killed her last target.

She looked to him, “And where will you go? Will I have to drive by and see you on the corner curb with a sign out saying, ‘Will work for food?’” She asked back. The least she could do was offer him a place, even if it weren’t at the penthouse. She knew that she likely had eyes watching her from there. But when she checked last time, nothing was there, and no one was around. “Wow. Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Sherlock.” She sarcastically added. Celesse squeaked closer to the bedside again, placing the side of her head down on the bed to look up at him. “I can offer you a place to stay at. At least until you can find some other shack to claim.” She offered, “And…perhaps more answers that you seek, ones that quite literally put you in death’s hands.” She cryptically would say.
 
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"Please, you think I'd lower myself to begging on the streets?" Benjamin said as he stabbed his fork into the mystery meat on the plate. He'd order something in from his phone. There was no way he was going to eat whatever that was (it looked like it came from a slug), and it certainly wasn't going to give him the energy he needed to recover. "I'm going to storm the homeless tent city, force them to recognize my authority, and then take over Seattle with my army of poorly-cleaned rebels. The stench alone will ensure our victory." He was feeling good, much better than when he'd first woken up out of the coma stupor, but his energy was waning.

It was strange to him to see Celesse, who had taken on werewolves and vampires and left craters in pure concrete, resting her head on the bed like a weary child and going out of her way to help him. He was new to this whole supernatural business... is this how they all were? Normal except for the fact that they could stop a freight train and throw it around like a whip? "You really do want to keep an eye on me, don't you?" he asked with a faint smirk. The allure of having more answers to the questions that hounded him, however, was worth the trade off. "Not that I want to put myself any more in your debt," Benjamin said, realizing she had saved his life twice in one night, "But I think that sounds like a good idea. If I'm going to be 'dead', I need someone to help me navigate this city. I don't want the wrong people finding out I'm still alive," he said, frowning as he thought of the siren again.
 
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