Jason.
The tall, slim man had pushed himself up from the low dresser he'd been sitting against as she had entered, the sun catching his blond hair and the metallic thread woven into his uniform. His expression was confident, his eyes calmly watching her from under his bangs as he waited to see how she was going to react before he reacted in turn. He was like that, and it irritated her how good he was at putting his emotions aside to get the better of an argument.
They'd entered the Strand on the same day, both of them on the same track of study, both aiming for the elite. They'd come from different paths, hers one of shame and fear, his from the joy of discovery and proud parents. Determined to outdo each other when they realized they had the same goals, they bound their fates together. His love had taken the place of the anger in her soul, but he'd been promoted when she had not, and when he won a place in the elite and she was passed over one too many times, they parted ways. Jason wasn't her boss, but as a member of the elite, he outranked her, able to give her orders she was required to follow. The fact that he was here chatting with her partner was not good.
"Jason," she said evenly in greeting, and the two men exchanged an unreadable look. "Good to see you," she lied, forcing her jaw to unclench. My God, it had been four years.
Hoc whined, dropping from Boyd's knees to come to her. Grace snuck a look at her hospital wrist monitor as she ruffled his mane, and he lay down almost on her feet. It wasn't her usual watch hanging about her wrist, the hospital-grade monitor recording milliseconds of erg imbalances. She hadn't been able to take it off like she had the peekaboo gown, and it was irksome. She wasn't an invalid, and it probably had an insulated, building-wide GPS in it.
"I was wondering when you were going to show up," Boyd said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Sit. You want some fat-slap? They gave me enough for six people."
He'd turned back to his breakfast, and Grace unwedged her feet from under Hoc. "No thanks," she said as she came forward to give Boyd a hug. He never put his fork down as he gave her a sideways embrace, gesturing again for her to sit. The smell of the fat-slap made her stomach growl, but she wasn't going to eat it even if she was starving. She'd had three portions already this morning. "You're looking good."
Boyd smiled, saluting her with his fork before shoveling in some more. He looked wan, pale with more than the expected drain, especially when his efforts yesterday had been caffeine assisted. The sun coming in made gaunt shadows on his face, accentuating his wrinkles. Sure, he was in his late fifties, but he was sharp as a tack. Three days, and they'd be back on the street looking for Zach.
So why is Jason here?
"Why are you here?" she said bluntly as the man knelt to pet Hoc. The dog had always liked him. He'd been with her when she'd rescued him from the pound.
Jason looked up, making her breath catch with the memories that came back when their eyes met. "Looking for you," he said simply, and her jaw clenched at his voice rolling through her, pulling even more memories into existence. "I figured this would be the best place to start, seeing as the women's nurse desk said you'd left against their orders."
"Not yet, but I'm working on it." She knew he'd smell like gun oil and leather if she got closer, and she forced her jaw to unclench. Again. "How you doing?" she asked Boyd.
The older man eyed them both, fork never slowing. "Fine. I'm not the one they found passed out."
Grace reached a hand down to draw the dog away from Jason. "Hoc is my buddy. I'd do the same for you."
"Almost needed to, from what I heard," Jason said softly, his eyes averted.
Lips pressed, she crossed her arms over her chest and sat on the edge of the untidy bed, one leg drawn up under her so she could face Jason. "They have you behind a desk yet?"
"No, but they're trying."
Damn it, he was smiling at her, and she tried not to fume. It wasn't his fault he'd been promoted. It was her fault for not keeping up. She enjoyed working with Boyd, wouldn't have changed anything. And yet . . .
Both men went silent, and a stab of uncertainty went through her. "What," she said flatly, and Boyd set his fork down.
"Grace," the older man started, and she stiffened, looking from Boyd to Jason's unhappy expression and back to Boyd's resignation.
Shit. "You're fine," she said quickly. "Look at you. That unregistered throw was pulling power like he'd been in the Strand for three years, and you used exactly the right force to stop him, no more. It's only going to take a day or two for you to get balanced."
"Grace."
"Hell, it's going to take me that long just to equalize my balance."
"Grace, I'm transferring to the Island."
Her breath went out and didn't come back in again. Cold, she sat back on the edge of the bed, feeling as if she'd been kicked in the gut. "You're not that bad . . ." she whispered, hating that Jason was standing there, a pitying expression on his face.
"Short term. For evaluation," her partner said, but he wouldn't look at her as he pushed his tray away. He was lying.
"But you look great!" she said again. The Island was where they sent half the kids they brought in. It was part hospital, part mental ward, part butcher where they burned out your abilities if you proved to be a danger to society and wouldn't work within the system.
Boyd shifted his chair, looking old in his white robe. "I'm great here," he said, taking her fingers and touching his head with his free hand. "But here is another story," he added, bringing her cold fingers to his heart.
Jason cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable as he shuffled to the door. "Excuse me, I have to take a call," he said, closing the door softly behind him.
Coward, she thought, her confusion and dismay turning to anger. "They're making you do this, aren't they?" she said hotly, seeing Jason's presence in a new way. "Boyd-"
"Listen to me," he interrupted, but she shook her head, pulse racing as Hoc whined. Boyd had been her partner since day one, her surrogate family when she'd lost all but her grandmother. He couldn't just leave!
"Everyone uses caffeine once in a while. You know when to stop. You're not a addict!"
"Will you shut up!" he said loudly. "I'm trying to tell you something!"
Grace closed her mouth, wide-eyed and panicking. Her world was shifting, and she could do nothing about it.
"Grace, I'm losing it," he said softly, his hands taking hers. "I've been boosting on and off for the last three years just to keep up. I thought I could handle it. I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner. I know you're scared."