A short drabble based on a dream I had a few days ago. No Shules, but some Lassiet if you stand on your head and squint.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
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Click.
Click.
Click.
The sound was driving Juliet O'Hara insane.
She couldn't stop focusing on the sound.
The stiff chair she was sitting in provided little support, but after twenty-six hours, she had become oddly accustomed to it. Everyone told her she had to get up and go home, but what did they know?
Absolutely nothing.
Twenty-six hours was nothing.
The seconds on the clock ticked by.
Twenty-six hours and four minutes.
Her eyes settled back on her best friend, lying prone in the hospital bed in front of her. She had dragged her chair close enough to the bed so that she could reach out and touch him at any moment.
So she could remind herself that he was still alive.
Carlton was the bravest man she had ever known. She had never once doubted that. But thirty-nine hours ago, she had watched as he took a bullet to save a child, and she had never felt more like a coward. How had she not saved him? Why had she frozen, helpless to do anything but watch as her best friend fell into her arms. It was only when she registered his weight in her arms that she finally reacted with deadly intent. She aimed at the shooter and squeezed off two rounds, painting the wall behind him with his blood and brain matter.
She felt no regret there.
Blinking rapidly, she reached out for Carlton's hand, a gesture she had committed countless times since she used her badge to get into his ICU room. He had no one else. Of course the squad was there, waiting with her during his surgery. But now most everyone was at home, safe in their own beds with their spouses.
Her fingers curled gently around Carlton's long, calloused ones. They had been partners for six years now, an amount of time longer than any of her romantic relationships. Her relationship with Carlton was certainly the longest, and best, she had ever experienced with any man.
A tear dripped down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away with her free hand. She had to be strong for him now. He would wake up soon and she'd be there for him as he had been there for her.
"Hey, Carlton," she whispered, her voice almost unrecognizable to her own ears. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere until you open those blue eyes, okay?"
Her thumb began gently rubbing the back of his hand.
"Why did you do it?" The words tumbled past her lips and she trembled. "Do you know what the doctors said? The bullet was two millimeters from your heart."
Your generous, forgiving, loyal heart.
"You had to have a blood transfusion."
I donated as much as I could.
Her eyes began to burn again. "You almost died."
I almost lost you.
New tears fell down her cheeks and she lowered her head slightly, never letting go of his hand.
"Please wake up, Carlton. Please."
She gently cradled his hand and rubbed his arm carefully. He was still warm, still fighting. Stifling a sob, she rested her forehead against his hand.
"I'm not leaving you." Her eyes closed and she inhaled deeply.
His fingers twitched and slowly curled around hers. Her head shot up in time to see his eyelids flutter and blue irises finally appear.
Twenty-seven hours.
End.