Just a little something I whipped up while listening to Adele's version of To Make You Feel My Love. Lassiet, if you stand on your head and squint. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
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How was this happening?
A shiver went through Juliet O'Hara as she sat in the cool hospital room. Too many times she had found herself in a waiting room full of other detectives waiting on word of a fallen friend. Hours ago, she had done it again.
Now she was sitting in a lumpy chair masquerading as a recliner. Her legs were tucked underneath herself, her shoes neatly in front of her. Her blond hair had fallen out of her normal bun, not helped by the fact that she constantly tugged at the loose strands. There was a limp pillow doing little to support her lower back, a cup of crappy hospital coffee long gone cold just within her reach.
She didn't give a fuck about any of it.
No, all she cared about right now was her partner, her best friend, lying in the narrow hospital bed beside her.
Her phone had vibrated for several hours before finally going dead a while ago; no doubt everyone who knew about the shooting was calling and texting her to find out how she was handling everything. She did not have the strength to lie, to tell them she was holding herself together when really she was dying inside.
Once Carlton was stable, the hospital had bent most policies by letting her sit by his side. She was grateful, to say the least. Her fingers, no matter how hard she scrubbed, were still pink and flecks of blood remained embedded beneath her nails. Each time she closed her eyes, she was back in that room, clutching Carlton as his blood seeped into her clothes and his head lolled against her shoulder.
The heart monitor beeped steadily beside his bed, even and continuous.
Not for the first time since she had first been allowed into his room, she sat up and curled her fingers around his. A single bullet mere inches from his heart had nearly stolen him from her forever. He still wasn't entirely out of the woods yet, not according to his doctors. But her fast thinking and action had saved his life. His surgeon had praised her, their coworkers called her a hero. But what did they know?
Absolutely nothing.
Letting out a shaky breath, she laid her head lightly on his arm, still holding those long, gentle fingers.
She was no hero.
If she was a hero, she would have seen the gun.
She would have moved faster.
She would have taken that bullet.
She would have...she would haveā¦
Hot tears stung her eyes, rolling in fat droplets down her cheeks and onto his arm.
If she had only been a few moments faster.
She could have grabbed the gun.
There would have been a struggle.
But Carlton would not be in this hospital bed, fighting for his life.
Drawing in a breath, she closed her eyes and tightened her grip on his hand, as if that so small action could keep him grounded there with her.
She wasn't ready to lose him.
Not yet.
And as night slowly gave way to dawn, Juliet remained there with her best friend, silently urging him to hold on, to just stay with her.
Because if he didn't, what would it matter to her if the sun ever rose again?
Finis
