"Well, I'm afraid that won't be possible," Dr. Madakwe cut in smoothly.
He stepped forward Marcus's bed just as Julie slipped into the room, her eyes widening at the people gathered inside. Her gaze flicked to mine in silent question, but I kept my expression neutral, unsure where Dr. Madakwe was going with this.
The doctor clasped his hands together and smiled. The same easy, reassuring smile that half the hospital and all of his patients seemed hopelessly charmed by.
"You see," he continued pleasantly, "Mr. Valerius here is due for a surgery."
Garrick frowned. "Then we'll ask a few questions first," he said. "My partner and I have been waiting for hours."
Josephine stood beside him, arms crossed, watching everything with cool interest.
Dr. Madakwe didn't even glance their way.
"I'm afraid that won't work," he said lightly, already reaching for the chart at the foot of Marcus's bed. "The procedure cannot be delayed."
"It'll only take five minutes," Garrick pressed.
Now Dr. Madakwe looked up.
The smile was still there, but something firmer settled behind it.
"Detective," he said calmly, "this man was stabbed and nearly died. His condition is still fragile. If something goes wrong because we delayed necessary treatment for the sake of questioning, absent of an arrest warrant, that liability will fall on you."
Garrick's jaw tightened.
Dr. Madakwe turned to Julie. "Prepare him for transport."
Julie blinked once, then nodded quickly. "Yes, doctor."
She moved to the side of the bed, already unlocking the wheels while I stepped forward to disconnect the IV pole from its stand.
Garrick stepped closer.
"You're seriously wheeling him away right now?"
Dr. Madakwe looked mildly surprised.
"Well, yes," he said. "That is generally how surgery works."
Josephine's gaze shifted between Marcus and Garrick.
"You can't keep interfering with police investigation," Garrick said sharply.
"And you can't interfere with medical care," Dr. Madakwe replied just as calmly. "Hospital policy, I'm sure you understand."
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Julie pushed the bed slightly forward.
Marcus's gaze drifted briefly to me as the bed began to roll. His expression was unreadable, but something in his eyes felt almost...amused.
Garrick stepped aside at the last second as we pushed the bed toward the door.
"Don't get too comfortable," he called after Marcus. "We'll finish this conversation soon enough."
The bed rolled out into the hallway.
Dr. Madakwe followed us out, holding the door open before turning back to the detectives. "I'll let security know you're here," he said pleasantly. "They'll be happy to escort you to the waiting area."
Then he shut the door behind him.
The moment we turned the corner, the doctor's smile disappeared. He exhaled under his breath. "Well," he murmured, "this will buy us some time."
Julie glanced up from the bed she was steering. "Time until what?"
Dr. Madakwe adjusted his glasses as we pushed Marcus down the hallway. "Until the detectives realize there is no surgery scheduled."
Julie nearly stopped walking. "There's—what?"
"Keep moving," he said calmly.
We passed a pair of orderlies and turned down a quieter corridor, the sound of the ward fading behind us. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead as Julie pushed the bed through a set of double doors marked 'Pre-Operative Preparation'.
The room inside was smaller than an operating theatre, but just as sterile. Stainless steel trays lined the walls. Cabinets held neatly arranged surgical packs. A narrow counter held monitoring equipment and stacks of disposable gowns and gloves.
Julie and I wheeled Marcus toward the center of the room and locked the bed in place.
The door swung shut behind us with a soft click.
For a moment, none of us spoke.
Marcus's eyes moved slowly around the room, taking everything in with quiet alertness.
"This," he said dryly, lifting his cuffed wrists slightly, "does not resemble a place meant for rest."
"It's not," Dr. Madakwe replied. "It's a preparation room. Patients wait here before surgery. But we need something to take these cuffs off of you."
Julie looked between the two of us, still pale. "Doctor...if there's no surgery..."
He paused in the middle of rummaging through a drawer packed with surgical supplies. The metallic clatter of instruments echoing faintly in the small preparation room.
"That means," he said evenly, "we're going to help Marcus leave this place before the detectives figure out where we've taken their suspect."
Marcus shifted his head slightly on his bed, his gaze settling on me again. Calm and focused, like he was waiting for a clarification.
"Where are we taking him?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. "And why—"
Dr. Madakwe turned, holding out a pair of pliers.
"Don't ask why," he said, already leaning toward Marcus's wrists. The metal bit cleanly through the cuffs with a sharp snap. "Ask how, Miss Wright."
Marcus flexed his freed wrists, rubbing the red marks left behind as he swung his legs slowly over the side of the bed.
"How?" I repeated.
The doctor looked up then, his expression suddenly decisive.
"You," he said, pointing directly at me. "He's coming with you."
My stomach dropped.
"With me?" I stared at him. "Are you insane? Where exactly do you expect me to take a man the police are actively looking for?"
"Somewhere they won't think to look," Dr. Madakwe replied calmly.
"That's not an answer."
He closed the drawer with a quiet click and finally faced me fully. "Hide him."
The word landed like a stone in the room. Something tells me that he knew something he couldn't quite let on. That he understood Marcus's situation more than anyone else.
"Hide him?" I echoed, my voice rising despite myself. "Dr. Madakwe, the detectives are right outside. They already think he's a murderer. If they find out you helped him—"
"They won't," he cut in calmly. "Not if we move quickly."
My pulse hammered in my ears.
Dr. Madakwe turned to Julie. "Julie, I trust you can be discreet about this."
She blinked, clearly as stunned as I was, but after a moment she nodded. "Of course, doctor."
Without another word, Dr. Madakwe crossed the room to a cabinet where we usually kept the surgical packs. But instead of opening one of the sterile trays, he pulled out a worn duffel bag.
Marcus watched him carefully.
"You're going to need clothes," the doctor said, tossing the bag onto the bed beside him. "Modern ones."
Modern clothes?
Marcus unzipped the bag cautiously, pulling out a pair of jeans and a dark hoodie as though they were strange artifacts.
Dr. Madakwe checked his watch.
"Here's what's going to happen," he said briskly. "In a few minutes, I'll walk back out there and inform the detectives that Marcus has been taken into surgery. They'll wait. Hospitals are slow places, no one will question that."
He turned to Julie. "You'll return to your ward and continue your shift like nothing happened."
Julie nodded again, though she still looked pale.
"I'll do the same," he said. "Finish my rounds. Sign a few charts. Pretend this world is perfectly normal."
Then he turned to me.
"But you," he said, pointing a finger in my direction, "are going to take my car."
I stared at him. "Your car?"
"It's parked in the staff garage. Security won't question you leaving with a patient if he's wearing civilian clothes."
My stomach twisted.
"And where exactly am I supposed to take him?"
"To find Professor Aloysius Cheung."
Marcus looked up at that name.
I frowned. "You mean the historian?"
Pippa's father?
"The very same."
I hesitated, my mind racing.
"How do you even know him?" I asked slowly. "Or that I live with his daughter?"
Dr. Madakwe's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "Dr.Cheung and I have crossed paths before," he said. "Let's just say his work occasionally attracts...unusual situations."
My eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
The doctor adjusted his glasses, the faintest hint of amusement flickering across his face. "Let's just say," he said lightly, "this is not the first time someone has arrived in my hospital claiming they do not belong to this century."
The room went very still.
My heart skipped.
Marcus watched the doctor carefully now.
But Dr. Madakwe only smirked, as if he understood Marcus's situation better than he had ever let on.