Access Denied: The Bullseye

7. Fluorescence

Light colors were meant to be comforting. White was considered the universal choice of color used in every institution. Sometimes white was contrasted with light green or blue accents. It was a proven fact that it helped people be more relaxed and comforted. But that's neutralized when you add bright lights and beeping machines.

Hospitals were not relaxing at all.

"And there you go," Arya Singh, her doctor and once foster mother said. "I'll be back to change your dressing before you go to sleep. Are you sure you don't want to go on a walk? Any form of light exercise will help you recover faster—"

"I'm fine."

Being in Blind Spot's infirmary for the past three days, Genevieve had recovered faster than expected according to Dr. Arya Singh. It was also lucky that the bullet missed an artery by an inch and didn't hit any major organs. Agent Deaton and the helicopter pilot had also gotten her to Old City, Philadelphia as quick as possible. According to the doctors, if Genevieve wasn't operated on within 48 hours of getting shot, she was unlikely to have survived.

Marlowe Agnor had come in with Agent Deaton earlier and Genevieve's suppressed guilt about Marlowe's father had resurfaced. Deaton had stepped up and helped Marlowe the past months. She had become a parental figure of sorts. She wasn't angry at Genevieve anymore. That helped her guilt crawl back under.

"Can I turn around now?" Carlos asked with his back to them. Mrs. Singh had demanded he turn around while she changed Genevieve's dressing. Genevieve had met almost everyone from the team she had worked with last August. But out of everyone Carlos seemed to be the most frequent visitor.

"Yes," she told him. "You can."

A lot hadn't been said since Carlos arrived. This being the third day, not as many people came in to check up on her. Besides that, she wasn't in the mood for too much talking. She felt parched without even doing anything.

Carlos plainly stared at her before opening his mouth to speak. He didn't say anything, but he was obviously here to tell her something.

"Do you want to say anything or are you just going to sit there?"

There was a woman sharing her room. Her leg was held up by two chords strapped around a cast in which her ankle was wrapped in. She had the day's newspaper covering the upper half of her body. Genevieve didn't know much about her, but she assumed that she was an agent or someone from intelligence. It also made her anxious that while the woman knew who Genevieve was and how she looked from all the people that had visited her.

But there was a curtain separating them. And no one made any contact.

"I think there are much more important things we could be discussing right now—for example, our topic of discussion the other morning." Her attention shifted back to Carlos. His back straightened, his eyes lighting up as if he suddenly remembered something. "Among those important things, you should know that Director Davidson wants to see you when you're feeling a little better."

She sunk against the bed frame. "I guess I'll never feel better then."

Genevieve could not think of a single good reason she should see Cory Davidson. Granted, there were several things that made sense to ask Davidson about why she was here. Or why his agents were on her protection detail. Or maybe she was just being hypersensitive.

Carlos coughed out a barely audible laugh. "I don't want to get into you and Davidson right now—"

"Why are you talking to me?" It was a very abrupt thought that Genevieve hadn't meant to say. Mrs. Singh had left the room and her roommate seemed dead behind the daily newspaper. From the look on Carlos's face, Genevieve felt the need to say it again. Like a normal person this time.