Could she shoot him?
Doubtful.
Could he kill her?
Very likely.
A soft groan came from Jimmy's direction.
Please let him be alive.
Bile rose in her throat and she swallowed hard. This was not a good time for empathy. The man moved again, towards Jimmy this time.
Her eyes stung and rubbing them would feel so good.
Why was being brave so hard? It seemed so easy for people on TV.
Mona was brave. Her friend had been right; she should have come with them.
"I said stop."
He shifted the gun towards Jimmy. "I just came in here to dispose of him. You are a bonus."
Jimmy might be alive now, but he wouldn't be if this goon shot him.
Her fingers tightened around the weapon, and she didn't realize how hard until the pistol jerked in her hands. Her ears rang from the boom.
The man laughed so hard he might fall over. What a great rescue mission. Not only did she fire the weapon by accident; she missed.
Oh well, at least all the noise ought to attract attention.
"Okay doll, that's enough."
He wouldn't miss, and the gun pointed right at her again.
A shot echoed through the room and almost deafened her. She expected pain, but there was none. That didn't mean she wasn't shot, shutting out pain might just be a defense mechanism of her brain.
The man staggered and looked down at his chest, and when he fell, time turned to slow motion.
I didn't shoot him. I'm sure I didn't shoot him, but he's dead.
"I couldn't find you until that gunshot. What is this place? Goddamn it stinks."
The voice shook her out of her paralysis and she glanced back over her shoulder. Bishop holstered his weapon, and other people streamed in behind him. He clearly hadn't been in on the dogfighting bust, or he would know.
He took a step closer.
"Lower the gun. Sharon, lower the gun."
She stared at him, but the words made no sense. Looking at her hands, they shook, and they did hold a gun. Where did that thing come from?
A moment later, deft hands took the pistol away from her.
Chapter Seventeen
Sharon sat in her car in the hospital parking lot, squeezing the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white.
I don't want to go in there.
Just sitting outside made cold sweat trickle down her neck.
Selena's melodic voice on the phone had said Paul was still sedated. Paul. It was hard not to think of him as Jimmy.
She looked at her hands. "If it was me in there, people would come, I'm sure. He would have come for me."
The car offered no answers.
He wouldn't know she was there anyway, so maybe it didn't matter if she chickened out. She could come back some other day, better prepared.
No. She would know, and she would have to live with herself every day.
She opened the door slowly, stepped out, and leaned against a fender. The day seemed much paler than it should be, and she drew a deep breath.
"You're a silly goose."
Talking to herself didn't make her stronger or braver. If anything, her voice sounded thin and scared.
This wouldn't do. Jimmy wasn't Jimmy, but she should still go see him.
She straightened her back, dried her palms on her jeans, and walked towards the entrance, concentrating on the sound of her heels against the asphalt. The large building stared at her with cold brick walls and soulless windows, and she could barely resist the urge to run for her life.
She needed to get a grip. One foot in front of the other.
Once inside, her footsteps echoed much too loud on the marble floor. The sound wasn't comforting anymore.
Such a nice foyer for such a horrible place. At least the smell isn't too bad out here.
Everyone seemed so filled with purpose, knowing exactly where they were going. She glanced up at the information signs, filled with words she didn't understand. Geriatrics, Orthopedics, MRI... One sign said "Information."
That might be helpful. No guarantees, but it might.
A woman looked up from a computer screen and her smile was probably friendly. Sharon's own fear filled in the details to make it look like a thirsty vampire's.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes. I'm here to visit..."
I'm here to visit Jimmy, but Jimmy doesn't exist. Paul exists, but I don't know Paul, I never met Paul. What's his last name? I should have brought something. Flowers would seem dumb for a man like him, and they probably wouldn't let me bring beer, but I should have had a gift basket, or at least a card.
The woman looked impatient.
"Yes?"
"Paul."
Why wasn't she typing or something?
The lump in Sharon's chest grew bigger and her eyes were moist.
No crying. Everything's bad enough without making a spectacle of yourself.
She tried, "He's a cop. Came in two days ago and was in intensive care and surgery and stuff, so I couldn't see him."
Could the woman see how puffy her eyes were? Sleep was a thing of the past, and she had cried so much she ran out of tears.
The information-vampire leaned back in the chair and tapped a pen against her desk.
"Yeah, I'm gonna need his name. Who are you, anyway?"
She looked about to call security.
Dammit. I finally found the courage to go in here, and now they're throwing me out.
Panicking didn't help her memory at all. She wanted to say Shaw, but that was Jimmy's name, and Jimmy wasn't real. Her mouth said, "Please," and that didn't help. The woman in front of her frowned.
"It's Colton, and don't worry about it, I'll take her." Bishop's voice made her jump, and the look on information-bitch's face when he flashed a police badge was priceless.
Nosy, unhelpful bitch.
No, that was the wrong way of thinking and probably unfair. Nosy, unhelpful bitches helped keep Jimmy safe from evil people who might still want to kill him.
She still wanted to turn around and stick her tongue out when Bishop escorted her towards an elevator.
"You're pale. You alright?"
What would it be like to date a police officer? They must be trained to see everything. Well, she had dated one, she just didn't know, and hadn't he been very observant for a man?
She slapped herself mentally and tried to answer the question with a lie, but the Yes she intended to say came out as, "No."
He frowned. "C'mon, I'll get you some coffee."
She should say no. Wasn't she supposed to hurry to Jimmy's side?
The mere idea of seeing him unconscious in a hospital bed made her stomach turn over and she swallowed hard. This was one of his colleagues, maybe even friends, and no harm could come from accepting the reprieve.
"Thanks."
Neither of them spoke until seated in the cafeteria. The room smelled like food and not like hospital. One more thing that should make her grateful.
Bishop leaned back in his chair and watched her under heavy lids. He looked sleepy, but it was probably a disguise.
Should she say something?
Probably, but her mind was blank and she sipped her coffee, relieved when he broke the silence.
"Charles Napier was hit by an eighty-six-year-old driver and died in the hospital. Bet you haven't been in one since?"
Oh Charlie. So long ago, and still like it was yesterday.
"How did you know?"
He averted his eyes and made a little grimace.
"Selena had me check up on you before she confided Paul's real identity."
Makes sense, they probably don't reveal secret identities all willy-nilly.
She clutched her mug too hard and forced her fingers to relax.
"It was a long time ago. The... The old guy shouldn't have been driving, I think he was blind as a bat. He missed a stop sign and rammed Charlie's car, right into the driver
's side."
He probably knew all this already, but she couldn't keep the words in. For all these years she never talked about it, and once she started it seemed impossible to stop.
"We were high school sweethearts. He joined the marines, and I counted the days until he would come home. The accident happened a week before the wedding. Charlie... Charlie went out to get pizza, and then he was dead."
The old man walked away without a scratch, and her fiancée was dead. It wasn't that easy, of course. He was a strong man and took time to die. So many days and nights spent in the hospital, waiting for him to move on to the other side.
"I don't..."
Bishop kept his eyes fixed on her face.
"It won't be like that this time." His voice was calm and certain.
"I hope you're right."
Please let him be right. If there's anyone out there still hearing prayers, please let Jimmy be alright.
The reprieve of the cafeteria lasted longer than she expected, but not forever. Bishop gave her time to find her balance, but they still strolled through the never-ending corridors much too soon for her taste.
"He was lucky. They didn't go for his head." His words gave her a mental image of a spongy pinkish mass seeping out through cracks in Jimmy's skull, sticking to his hair. The world swayed in and out of focus, and she felt Bishop's hands on her shoulders.
"Time to sit down."
The words made little sense, but she let herself be led to a bench. She hadn't even considered brain damage before and the thought was terrifying. Could she deal with a thing like that? Technically, she didn't have any bonds to him, she didn't even know this version of him, but he might need her.
"I'm okay."
"Sure you are. You're only whiter than the wall."
"I've never fainted."
What an intelligent thing to say. Bishop chuckled and took a seat next to her.
"I said they didn't go for his head. Didn't."
She fought the panic down. Jimmy would probably be himself when he woke up. Whoever that might be.
Even with this extra pause they reached a waiting room that seemed much too bright and cheerful much too soon. Selena stood over to one side with her arms crossed over her chest, listening to a man in a doctor's coat. Sharon wanted to tune the words out, but some still sifted through. "...a few ribs, lacerated spleen, internal bleeding, will put a metal plate with screws in his leg..."
Lalalalala!
Singing in her head didn't drown out the words.
She wished she could smack her hands over her ears, but that would probably be frowned upon.
To her horror, Bishop put a hand on her back and pushed her towards the doctor.
"Can she go in?"
The man in the white coat frowned.
"For a few minutes. He won't know anyone's there."
"Good enough. C'mon, I'll take ya."
She wanted to push her heels into the floor, lean backwards, and fight. Wasn't it enough that she made it to the hospital? Whatever horror waited on the other side of the door, she didn't want to know.
Coming was a mistake.
She should have stayed away.
Bishop's grip was firm, and she got the feeling that he understood, but he wouldn't let her back down when she got this far. It only took a few seconds before she was through the door and inside a very white room.
Jimmy's face was almost as pale as the sheets, but still seemed to be the only visible color. He was attached to large machines with tubes and wires, and the mere sight made her chest tighten.
Her new friend squeezed her shoulder.
"I'll be right outside."
"Please don't go. Something will happen the moment you leave me alone in here."
Bishop didn't smile, but his eyes looked amused. "Nothing will happen. And if it does, well, that's what all this equipment is for. You'll be fine."
The door closed quietly, and she took a tentative step forward. Tubes stuck out of the back of Jimmy's left hand, but the right rested by his side. She reached out for it, half expecting it to be dead and cold.
"I'm so sorry."
This might all be my fault. Maybe I kept him on the phone for too long, and kept him away too much. What if I made them suspicious, and he ended up like this because of me?
She swallowed the tears. This was a time to be strong for someone else, not for self-pity and bad conscience. His face was bruised, and she brushed her lips ever so lightly over his forehead, picking a spot that shouldn't hurt him.
"I love you. Jimmy, Paul, whoever you are, I love you, and you need to come back to me."
She pulled up a chair to the side of the bed and sat there, holding his hand. Once she settled in, the hospital wasn't too bad.
The door opened sooner than she expected and Bishop peeked in.
"It's time to go. C'mon, I'll walk you to your car."
Two nurses stepped in, looking impatient. She should move to the side and let them do their job. At this point in time, he needed professional care more than he needed her.
Figures. First she didn't want to go in, and now she didn't want to leave.
"But, I should stay. Shouldn't I stay?"
"No. There are many of us and just one of you. If anything changes, we'll let you know."
The next day, Bishop picked her up at the house and drove her to the hospital.
He probably wants to make sure I don't back out.
"Did Jimmy, I mean Paul ever... Did he ever say anything about me?"
Bishop glanced over. "You're worried you were part of the act."
"Wouldn't you be?"
He stopped at a red light.
"Fair enough. I have to admit when I saw you the first time I didn't figure you for Paul's type. He usually falls for something with, uh, less clothes. He didn't appreciate my opinion."
Sharon laughed in spite of all. "It felt real."
"He worships the ground under your feet. That's why he wanted to keep you out of all this shit."
Chapter Eighteen
Paul spent a long time in darkness.
When his eyes flickered open the light was much too bright, so he closed them again and drifted off. Voices broke into the void and he saw glimpses of a room, but nothing seemed worth the effort of staying awake.
Even when he tried, he couldn't keep his eyes open for more than seconds at a time.
How can I still be alive?
At first he was too medicated for any questions to seem important, but one day he woke up lucid enough to want answers.
Where am I? How much time passed?
He was queasy, his head pounded, and the world was out of focus. Everything looked too soft, as if he watched it through a soft focus special effect. His body ached, and when he lifted his hands, tubes stuck out of them.
He didn't want tubes in his hands.
Trying to pull them out rewarded him with company; the space around the bed filled up with people wearing scrubs. They held his hands and he tried to fight them, but he was so weak. One person had a syringe and he soon slept again.
The next time he woke, his arms were strapped to the bed. A familiar voice drifted through the door. Sharon. He wanted her cool hands and her voice, and he almost called out to her.
I lied to her. She'll be so mad when she finds out.
There was so much to explain and he was so tired. If he didn't get it right, she might never come back.
He closed his eyes, but pretending to sleep lasted for less than a minute. Darkness overtook him and he slept for real.
Days passed in the same fashion and staying awake grew a little easier. People visited, a parade of familiar faces, but if he was awake when Sharon came he pretended to sleep. He would feel her hand on his, or her lips against his forehead, and her touch helped him feel safe enough to sleep for real.
As long as he didn't talk to her, she might come again.
If he told her the truth, she might disappear.
Sharon's voice broke throug
h the fogs in his mind.
"Are you sure he's all right? He told me he likes my new blue hair and that his grandmother sat in the corner knitting for him. It's not normal."
I've talked to her? I thought I avoided talking to her.
An unknown voice answered, "It's the morphine, ma'am."
"But it has been so long."
That couldn't be right. A few hours, couple of days, tops.
She sounded forlorn.
He should go to her, comfort her, but his body held no strength.
The unknown voice said, "He's healing well, he has had the last surgery, and we'll be cutting down the doses starting tomorrow. Once we wean him off you'll see a big change. A few more weeks and he'll be fine."
Weeks? How long have I been here?
"What exactly will happen?”
"He'll need physical therapy. He should be able to move around on his own in about a month, and once everything is healed we can treat him on an outpatient basis. He might need a cane for a little while, but he was so fit before all this happened I'm not too worried about it. Three months from now he'll be able to do most things he did before, and in six months to a year he'll be like new."
The world disappeared again.
*****
Sharon spent as much time as she could in the hospital. Now when she was over the first anxiety, it wasn't so bad.
Some nights, when the nurses approved, Mona looked after Tiffy and Sharon slept in a chair by Paul's side. He was sometimes awake, but never coherent.
She spent hours holding his hand and talking to him.
"I think you look a little better. I don't know if you can hear me, or if you will remember this, but I love you. I'm gonna have to work a little more, I've fallen behind, but I'll still be here every day. I promise."
It was a promise she intended to keep, even if she could only stay for a few minutes. Sometimes the doctors were busy with him, but most of the time he slept.
I wish I could bring Tiffy.
The dog would be able to get through to him like no one else.
Would they permit it?
Not likely.
Maybe if she'd been a service dog, but she wasn't. She was just a puppy, in over her head, just like Sharon.
Could she smuggle the dog in?
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