Disclaimer: Hank is the man; I'm just a girl. Don't sue.
Spoilers for Fallout
Rating: PG-13
Summary: It was never supposed to end like this…
A/N: Well, here I am again. If it wasn't for Dev and Molly, this might not have gotten posted. Thanks. :wub:
*****
It wasn't supposed to end this way. Not like this. None of this was part of the equation.
I'm not ready to face that.
I had to do something; I had to get you out of there. I didn't give a shit what anyone thinks about us, but you are my responsibility, lover or not. If I hadn't done something then, the images in my brain would have overwhelmed any rational thoughts. If they had, I'd have lost us both.
I knew I was going to catch hell for this later, but there wasn't time to debate protocol. I remember thinking that if I had to kill every other person there, you would be coming out of that building.
I was standing across the street, trying to form a plan, and I suddenly heard you screaming. It didn't make any sense, and not just because no one else heard it. I don't think you would have screamed like that, if other people had been around you. You don't like showing fear, or pain. I know that, because you've very rarely shown it to me.
So, after I looked to Martin and realized that your voice was only in my head, I knew what I had to do. When I handed him my holster and badge…he was stunned. I don't think he even tried to talk me out of it; if he did, I didn't hear him. I just took off for that door trying to block out the sound of your pleading.
So, I wasn't really prepared to open the door and find you lying there. I knew there would be blood, I was expecting that; but I wasn't ready for the sounds in that room. It was too quiet. Everyone was just standing around, not saying anything. If one of them had been crying, maybe I would have focused better on the situation. But since everyone was so silent, my only concern was getting you out of there alive.
That was reckless of me, and I'm sure you'll give me shit for it later. That's fine. I'd rather have that than the alternative.
I wasn't sure how to approach you, honestly. I think part of me still wasn't accepting the fact that this was you, lying there. I guess I was trying to pretend that it was just someone else.
Someone I didn't love.
I wasn't thinking about Maria, or my girls. I know how you feel about them, and how you think that they should be my first priority. But they never entered my mind that night. Not until much, much later. Not until I hit the doorstep, actually.
I'm surprised that Maria was as forgiving as she was. She didn't fight me, just listened when I told her what had happened. Then she told me that I shouldn't be there right now. She told me that I should be here, with you. Of course, I could tell by the look in her eye that we'll be sending the girls to Maria's mother's house for the weekend, so we can discuss all this. That doesn't bother me right now. I'll worry about that later.
Right now, all I'm thinking about is the look on that doctor's face as he pushes open the door. I've seen that look before. I hate that look. Damn.
"Excuse me, Agent Malone? Could I have a word with you?" He motions to a spot a few feet away from everyone else, like he isn't comfortable delivering this news to more than one person at a time.
"Sure. Talk." I don't bother moving. Mostly because I'm not sure how I could manage to repeat his words later on.
"Okay." He hesitates then, and I feel like punching him. Just get it over with, for God's sake. Tell us what we already fear, and just get it over with!
"Well, it seems that Miss Spade's-"
"Agent Spade." Have some respect, you little prick.
"Yes, ah, well, it seems that Agent Spade's injury was a bit more serious that we had anticipated, and so we have had to-"
You anticipated this? You knew she was going to get shot? You were just sitting around and you just decided it? Jackass.
"…tearing of the sciatic nerve. That, along with the damage to the femoral artery, made it very difficult for my staff to…"
Jesus. Get to it already, would you?
"…shouldn't take more than half an hour…"
Yeah, you wouldn't want her mother to see her with that carved-open gash in her leg. But she'll have a sheet covering everything but her face, so what will it matter?
"…prefer if only one of you go in at a time, but I'll waive the time limits. Take as long as you need."
I don't remember the doctor walking away; I just blinked, and he was gone. The next thing I do remember is Martin handing me something. He said something, too, but it took me a minute to make out the words.
"We have to go back and finish things up. Make sure Samantha gets this back?"
It was your badge.
"I…yeah. Sure." It threw me a little, holding your badge in my hands. It just seemed so…intimate. It felt like that was forbidden; holding credentials belonging to another agent.
Martin paused, and the asked if I wanted my stuff back. I think he was afraid of what I'd do if I said yes.
"Ah, no, not right now. I'll get it from you later, ok?"
He just nodded and left, reminding me of the room number. It's funny, but 121 doesn't sound like the basement.
Turns out, it's not.
I have never, in my entire life, been so relieved to enter a hospital room. I must have sat there for a good hour, just staring. The way your eyes fluttered, because it's still possible to dream while under anesthetic. That little smear of blood that no one bothered to wash off yet. Then, I watched as you finally started to wake up, and tried to roll onto your side, the way you always do first thing in the morning. Only this time, all the bandages covering your leg prevented that, and you cracked your knuckles; exactly the way you do when you're pissed off and frustrated. It's good to see those little things, even if I'm the only one who knows about them.
"Oh, God, where-Jack?"
"Hey."
~END~