trust is a relative term

part fifteen

2/16/18

8:58 PM

Ebbott Hospital, Lobby

"Uh... I'm here to see someone."

You peer over you glasses at the handsome young man standing in front of your reception desk. Taking in his messy hair and torn jeans, you immediately have him pegged for a troublemaker. Needless to say, he looks very out of place in the hospital's quiet, neat lobby.

"Can you tell me their name?"

He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Black. Mia Black."

You study him for a moment, wondering. "Just a moment," you say, tapping the name into your computer. His fingers drum impatiently on the desk.

"She's in the West Wing, in room 903," you inform him once the information pops up on your computer screen.

He doesn't move, tugging instead at a bracelet around his wrist and glancing over his shoulder. "And... how do I get there?"

"Head straight right from the lobby, take the elevator up to third floor, then walk down the hallway and take a left," you rattle off.

"Thanks," he says, turning away. Leaving the lobby, he immediately takes a wrong turn. You roll your eyes and, after a moment, go back to your computer.

✧ ✧ ✧

2/16/18

9:08 PM

Ebbott Hospital, West Wing

You stand outside of room 903, tired, makeup smudged, talking to a doctor. You hear the shuffle of footsteps behind you and turn to see the young man, standing with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"Just a moment," you say to the doctor, and look him over, remembering your conversation from earlier today. "You must be Evan Sanchez."

He stares at his feet. "Yeah. That's me. Is Mia...?"

You sigh. You think you should probably have qualms about letting a stranger into your daughter's hospital room, but there are a lot of other things you should do as a mother, and all you say is, "You can go ahead and go in. I'll wait out here."

"Thanks," he answers, and you watch him duck into the room.