Naria's Wolves

Chapter Three-Episode Five

Before Dr. Hale could disappear behind the secure doors again, Inara snapped out of her daze, regained her composure, and called out.

“Doctor Hale!”

The doctor turned, and a flicker of recognition crossed her blue eyes when her gaze landed on Inara.

“Inara Ashwood,” she greeted calmly as Inara hurried over. “What can I do for you?”

“I know you’re busy—” Inara started.

“Dear, busy is considered a quiet night,” Hale laughed, though a hint of weariness edged her voice. “We are packed due to the tunnel collapse last night.”

“I heard,” Inara whispered, feeling incredibly out of her depth. “I just wanted to get some information from you, if that’s alright.”

“Walk with me,” Hale replied. She scanned her badge to unlock the double doors, ushering Inara inside the restricted area.

Inara’s throat nearly closed up, but her desperate need to know more about Ryker—and where to find him—won out. She swallowed her panic and quickly stepped through.

The inner workings of the emergency department were not at all what Inara expected. It reeked of copper-iron blood and sharp, sterilizing bleach—a sensory assault she hadn't prepared for. Her nose involuntarily scrunched, causing Dr. Hale to chuckle.

“You get used to the smell,” the doctor said, maintaining a brisk pace.

Inara hurried to keep up. On either side of the corridor, people lay on beds behind thin curtains or glass partitions, some alone, others surrounded by hushed families. The sheer scale of the place was massive, housing dozens of tiny, frantic treatment bays. Nurses and orderly staff practically sprinted between rooms, while others huddled near computer screens reading charts. The noise here was a different kind of loud—punctuated by the ominous, rhythmic beeping of medical monitors. The central nurses' station acted as the frantic hub of the entire floor.

“It’s not what I expected,” Inara breathed, immediately regretting the naive admission. But she had no idea what else to say.

Men lay on gurneys, broken and bleeding; others looked violently ill. Some patients were already sitting up, disgruntled and clearly ready to leave. Inara and Dr. Hale pressed themselves against the corridor wall to let a trauma bed pass. A young man with fox ears lay perfectly still on it, his eyes closed but his breathing steady. His head and hand were heavily bandaged. Dried blood caked his cheek and arm, and his hospital gown was stained a grim crimson.

“You just talked to his family,” Inara said numbly, watching the gurney round a corner toward the chime of an elevator.

“Yes,” Dr. Hale replied, her voice softening. “He was in the collapse, trying to save a fellow worker. He’s lucky to be alive.”

Inara swallowed the hard lump in her throat. Sensing her distress, Fiona nudged her hand with a cold nose, a grounding reminder that she wasn’t alone. Inara had never been more grateful for the companion's presence.

“How many?” Inara asked, looking around, trying to process the sheer volume of trauma. When Dr. Hale turned to her with a raised eyebrow, Inara clarified in a fractured whisper, “How many didn’t…?”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence, but Hale understood.

“Not as many this time,” Hale said quietly. She led the way toward the back of the department, steering them into a much quieter, private pocket of the wing. Inara realized they had reached Hale’s office. “It’s been worse.”

Inara couldn’t even begin to imagine what "worse" looked like.

Suddenly, a loud, agonizing wail ruptured from a nearby room before a door clicked shut, the sound so mournful it made the fur on Inara’s tail stand straight up in alarm. Someone else hadn’t made it.

“I’m sorry you’ve come to seek me out at a time like this,” Dr. Hale said, breaking the heavy silence as she sat at her desk.

Behind her, a digital holo-board cycled through photos of her children over the years. Inara caught a glimpse of Ryker as a young, gap-toothed boy, smiling widely.

“I hate to keep you from your work,” Inara told her softly, settling into a chair as Fiona laid down comfortably at her feet. “I was really just hoping to find Ryker.”

“You two caused quite the stir last night,” Hale chuckled. She organized a stack of physical paperwork, filing it away before turning her full, undivided attention to Inara. “I’ll admit, I was shocked to see you two together.”

“He originally found me on campus one night,” Inara admitted sheepishly, looking down at her hands. “I was… having a bad night. I go there to collect my thoughts.”

“I can’t imagine the weight of the responsibilities placed on your shoulders at your age,” Dr. Hale murmured. Then, her gaze sharpened. “But what does Ryker have to do with it?”

The question was entirely fair, but it instantly put Inara on edge.

“He let on that he may know something… from back when he was an intern,” Inara started, choosing her words with extreme caution.

Dr. Hale’s ocean-blue eyes hardened instantly. “What happened to him was entirely unfair,” she nearly growled, though she quickly caught herself and smoothed over her posture. “Ryker would never do anything to hurt anyone.”

“No, no—please believe me, I know that,” Inara backtracked rapidly, raising her hands. “I may not know him well, but he has never given me that impression. What I mean is… he knows things that I am trying to learn.” Inara felt the tightrope she was walking; there was no way to navigate this without sounding like she was prying, because that was exactly what she was doing. “I know he didn’t mean to stumble onto whatever it is he learned.”

Dr. Hale rested her elbows on the desk, entwining her fingers. She stared at Inara, weighing her next words carefully.

“What benefit do you gain from his knowledge?”

“I want to help,” Inara pleaded, her golden eyes wide and desperate. “I’m learning every single day that there is something fundamentally wrong with our world—a world I was kept blind to my entire life. I know I'm young, but ever since Ryker found me on campus, ever since I was thrust into this… this role…” Inara tripped over her words, her chest tightening. She leaned in, dropping her voice to a fierce whisper. “Something just isn’t adding up.”

Dr. Hale was so quiet that Inara wondered if she had just sounded completely insane. She wouldn't have blamed the doctor if she had simply pointed to the door and told her to leave.

“At first, I thought you wanted to see the hospital for what it really is,” Evelyn said quietly. “And perhaps you still do. But I worry about this path you want to go down with my son. Ryker has already lost everything.”

“I know what it sounds like,” Inara replied, her shoulders slumping. But then a spark of frustration flared, and she let out a low, irritated growl. “And I know how Lucien is. He probably overreacted like he always does. He’s such a prick.”

Dr. Hale let out a soft laugh, and the thick tension in the room instantly evaporated.

“I just want to make things right,” Inara continued, her voice softening. “And I believe Ryker can help me do it. If helping him fixes other things along the way, then I have to try.”

Dr. Hale searched the fierce determination gleaming in Inara’s golden eyes before letting out a gentle sigh.

“Just don’t make me regret this,” she said.

Pulling a stylus from her pocket, she jotted a few glowing characters onto a sheet of holo-paper. “Here, this is his dorm number. I’d also suggest looking up Alex and Piper on social media—they know his hiding spots far better than I do.”

She handed over the digital square. As Inara took it, the data dissolved into her wrist unit, storing itself in her notes app under Ryker.

“Thank you,” Inara breathed, a wave of relief washing over her. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”

“Call me Evelyn, dear,” Dr. Hale said, warmly folding Inara’s hand into her own.

“Thank you, Evelyn,” Inara smiled.

Stepping out of the building, the relief of finally escaping the assaulting smells and chaotic din of the emergency department was dizzying. Inara couldn't fathom how Evelyn spent entire days in that sensory minefield. She was just glad the doctor hadn't been impossible to track down.

“Is it bad that I never want to step foot in there again?” Inara admitted quietly to Fiona as they walked toward a local café. She wasn’t sure if she was actually hungry, or if she was just desperately stalling to avoid finding Ryker after the morning's chaotic adventures.

“It’s not bad at all,” Fiona replied gently, her steps light and even beside her. “It was a lot to take in for your first visit.”

“You didn’t seem rattled in the slightest,” Inara observed, glancing at her companion. “Have you been there before?”

“I have,” Fiona said. “Your mother used to make regular trips there to hand out gift baskets to the nurses and find out what the people in the wards needed most.”

Inara stopped dead in her tracks. “Mom? Really?”

She tried and failed to picture her mother in a place like that—her pristine, pressed dress suits standing in stark contrast to the grime and misery of the emergency lobby. Inara hadn't fully realized just how centrally the hospital sat within Naria, serving as a bridge to the impoverished southern side of the underground city. Today had been a loud, harsh reminder of that reality.

“Of course,” Fiona said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But then, Fiona had spent far more time by her mother's side than Inara ever had.

“I had no idea,” Inara mumbled.

A spark of an idea began to take shape, crystallizing the moment she walked away from the clinic.

“Fiona, who runs the financial side of things for us?” Inara asked as they resumed their walk back toward the campus.

“What do you mean?”

“Like... who actually manages the money?”

Fiona let out a soft chuckle. “Ah. You mean, who is the accountant?”

“I guess?” Inara shrugged, silently noting yet another basic concept she still needed to learn.

“While we do have a personal assistant, your mother typically manages the household accounts herself.”

“That’s perfect,” Inara murmured, a small, genuine smile tugging at her lips. What she had in mind would be infinitely easier to pull off if her mother was the one holding the purse strings.