Page 57 of Dose

But with his hand resting around my wrist, I stop treating it like a theory.

20

THEON

Three days after Atlanta, I am already losing my mind.

The shoulder is healing. That is not the same as healed, a distinction Raphael has made often enough that I can hear it in his voice when he is not present.

The cut runs across the back of my left shoulder, sutures intact beneath a light dressing. No joint involvement. No fever, drainage, or spreading redness. At eight forty-five this morning, the original seventy-two-hour restriction expires.

It is seven ten.

I can pipette perfectly well with my right hand.

I am demonstrating this when Isla walks into the lab.

“Theon.”

“I’m being careful.”

“You are bracing the rack with your left arm.”

I look down. My left forearm is, in fact, pressed against the rack. “Bracing is not lifting.”

She crosses the lab, waits until I have dispensed the aliquot, then takes the pipette from my right hand and returns it to the stand.

“Raphael has not cleared you.”

“The restriction ends in ninety-five minutes.”

“One hour and thirty-five minutes is not a rounding error.”

“It is in wound healing.”

“Medical bay. Your check was scheduled for seven fifteen.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine.” She reaches for the wall panel. “I’ll ask Raphael to come here and explain to both of us why active pharmaceutical work is the ideal place for this argument.”

I follow her out of the lab.

Raphael is already waiting for me. This suggests collusion.

“Sit,” he says.

“You and Isla have developed a troubling dependence on that word.”

“And yet neither of us uses restraints.” He removes the dressing and examines the wound under direct light. “Sutures are holding. Mild inflammation, no sign of infection.”

Isla stands at my right shoulder, watching without touching the sterile supplies.

“Gentle range of motion,” Raphael continues. “No weight through the left arm and no repetitive shoulder movement until day seven. If you tear the wound open, I will close it again without admiring your pain tolerance.”

“Local anesthetic remains standard of care,” I say.

“Then behave as though you want some.”