This wasn't supposed to happen.
I'm the one who protects my field agents, especially her. Not the other way around. Freya protected me, and now she's paying the price.
"You're not supposed to step in front of bullets. Not for me. Not for anyone."
I cradled her limp body in my arms, watching the snow below us change from white to pink to red in seconds. The coppery smell hits my nose and turn my head away; the nausea slams into me, but I know there's nothing in my stomach.
:Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!:
In the distance, I hear sirens. :You'll be fine.: She shivered in my arms, a moan escaped her pale lips. "Shh. They're coming. You'll be fine." I can barely hear my own voice; am I even speaking aloud?
Next thing I know, someone is trying to take her from me. I protest, clinging to her as tight as I can, but she slips out of my grasp. Time is moving very slowly as I'm being led to the back of a blurry vehicle. An ambulance, I'm sure. Just what I need... No! Just what Freya needs.
There's a blanket tightly wrapped around me, and someone keeps asking me questions. I hear a voice that sounds like mine answer in a low tone. Oh wait. That is me! What did he say? Looking down at my hands that are red from the cold, I realize I'm colder inside than out, and no blanket can warm me.
"Brendan? Can you hear me?"
Blinking furiously, I find a bright light shining in my eyes. The fluorescent light above me makes strange shadows – when did I get to the hospital? The light disappears, replaced by a blurry face. "Can you hear me?" A woman's voice – Doctor? Nurse? – keeps asking.
I want to answer, really I do, but my body just won't work properly. Right now, I seem to be concentrating on breathing.
Another blur moves into view, only to be chased away by the woman. "Please, sir. I need you to wait outside..."
It may have been Doctor Welles, but I can't move to look over at the door. Immediately, the day's events came crashing back on me. I remembered everything in vivid detail. Freya and her very cool ability came in handy up until the last minute, and the NSA successfully took down a terrorist cell in the middle of a quiet suburban neighborhood.
But one of them got behind us. I didn't hear him, I didn't see him. Suddenly, Freya is standing in front of me. The bullet caught her in the shoulder, piercing the Kevlar vest. Without thinking, I fired my weapon before the guy even took aim. Maybe he did; I remember a high pitched whistle past my ear. A half step to the right, she would have been clear.
"Brendan! Stay with me! Breathe!"
Does she really have to keep yelling at me? It's an irrational thought, nevertheless, I still can't draw air into my lungs to save my life. Yes, that pun was intended. The edges of my vision darken and I finally feel warm.
"...he's in shock, and he really needs to stay calm, Mister Harper. I promise to keep you informed." The stern voice returned, and I opened my eyes. There is an oxygen mask on my face. I hate those things, but it's feeding sweet cool air to my starved lungs. Harper came here? For us?
"Hello, Mister Dean. I'm Doctor Grayson. You gave us a bit of a scare. How do you feel?"
"Like a truck backed over me. Freya?" I hear a beep next to my ear quicken. Great. A heart monitor. Taking several deliberate breaths, I try to calm myself.
"The surgery is going well. You just get some rest. I have a feeling you haven't had much sleep for a while."
"I'm fine," I tell her. Of course I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be after passing out? "Just want to see her." I try sitting up again, feeling a tug on my left hand. Damn. First, a heart monitor, now an IV.
"Sorry, Brendan. I need you to lie back. She won't be out of surgery for a while, so you can't do anything about that now. I'll get some water, and you can just rest.
"'kay." A weight settles on my chest, and I'm tired and cold again. After a few sips of water, I let myself drift off to warm darkness.
-----------------
When I open my eyes this time, I find my surroundings have changed. I'm in a private room, bright with sunlight, curled up on a slightly comfortable bed. Raising my head, I see a curtain drawn on my right side. There's shuffling on the other side. "Hello?" I croak. My mouth is so dry, I'm afraid my tongue will disintegrate. At least there's no oxygen mask.
A dark hand parts the curtain, revealing Director Jon Harper. "Welcome back, Agent Dean." He smiles sadly. "Don't look so surprised."
Strangely enough, he looks rumpled. He never looks rumpled. How long has he been here? Is it morning? I've lost all track of time, and I still feel like a wrung out towel. "Sir?"
He steps closer to my bed, pouring water into a waiting cup. "Drink this." Pulling over a chair, he smiles patiently. "Seems you need to take better care of yourself, Agent Dean."
A snort comes out before I can stop it. "I'm fine, really. How's Freya?"
"She's in recovery now. Everything went well. Should be reading your mind in no time." Harper leans forward in the chair, elbows on knees. "The doctor hear tells me you've pretty much run yourself into the unforgiving ground. Again."
I can feel the heat rush to my cheeks. Excuses pop up and get pushed away. Jon Harper can see through all lies. Besides, he would just ask Freya anyway. "I didn't mean to, but you know how it is... Just got busy, that's all. This was the biggest case I've ever had, and I was a little nervous." Which, of course, would be an understatement. My stomach is churning just thinking about my case. The cup of water appears under my nose again. I drink deeply, draining the cup.
"Would you believe Doctor Grayson wants to keep you here for the next few days? She thinks you're headed for some sort of breakdown." Placing the empty cup back on the bedside table, he chuckles softly. "Then I told her you worked for the United States government. Suddenly, she understood."
I laughed out loud. Like that explains everything. "And they still want me to stay?" Now I'm thinking of all the debriefing, reports, individual recognition, Freya –
"Well, if you keep zoning out like that, your stay may be permanent."
There was a commotion behind the curtain. Harper reached over and threw it open, sending it smoothly around the track. They were wheeling in another patient. We looked on as a group of people flew around the bed hooking up various machines. When they finally cleared, I tried to get a look at the person on the bed.
"Freya!" Before I knew what I was doing, I was struggling out of my bed. My line of sight was blocked by someone wearing pink. "Wait! I have to see –" Sliding off my bed, my legs refused to support me. In a further act of mutiny, my head spun, causing me to grab hold of the nearest object. It was Jon Harper in this case. I felt the IV dislodge and ignored it.
"Please stay still, Brendan. You can see her soon. I need you to rest up just a little longer, and let the IV do its job."
Everything came into sharp focus as I used my anger and fear as fuel. I had to keep upright to make a point. "That is my partner over there! She took a bullet for me, and I have to know she's all right!" I shook them both loose, and unsteadily walked over to her bed.
"Mister Harper, I don't think this is a good idea. Miss MacAllister will be moved –"
"No!" Both the director and I answered at once.
"Look, he won't do anything unless he knows she's fine." He took a deep breath, standing akimbo. "Besides that, I need to keep an eye on them both, and this is the best way to do it."
The woman frowned, knowing Harper was probably right. I sure as hell wasn't going anywhere, so she might as well keep everything as is. "All right, but I want you to stay in bed, Mister Dean. If your vitals improve by tomorrow, you can leave."
My vitals? There's nothing wrong –
"Your body has been running on fumes. In fact, I don't know how you didn't keel over sooner. But judging from your check up, you do it pretty often."
I was pretty sure I looked like a deer in headlights, and Harper passed a hand over his face. Even without Freya, I knew what he was thinking. It's not his fault I want to make sure everything is near-perfect. In fact, before Freya came along, no one seemed to notice me. Well, Merriweather always had something to say...
A groan pulled my attention away from my boss. Freya's hand wandered over to mine, weakly grasping my wrist. Her eyes fluttered open, and her lips started moving. I leaned over, my ear straining to hear. "Go to sleep, Brendan," she whispered. Then she was asleep again.
"You heard the woman," Harper said. Does he have super hearing, or is he talking about the doctor? Instead of elaborating, he checks his watch. "I don't want to hear a report from you until Monday, Agent Dean." He replaced the chair against the wall, and came to Freya's bed. "Good job. Both of you."
"Monday? That's five days from now! How–"
"Four days, Mister Dean. It's Thursday. Take it easy, and I'll see you soon." Then he was gone.
I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. "I'll bring some breakfast, then you can rest." Is she still here?
"Fine. I'm not really hungry. But if you've got chocolate milk, that would be great."
Doctor Grayson smiles. "I'll see what I can find." She directs me back to my bed, and does a quick examination. "Great. No fever, no congestion, and your BP seems to be a little better. It was down yesterday, and that's why you were cold." She closed her chart with a snap, and smoothed the blanket over me. "Be back with your breakfast."
I give her my best I'm-gonna-stay-right-here smile, and wait for her to leave. She checks over Freya, and eventually leaves. Hopping off the bed, I make a beeline for my partner. Taking her hand in mine, I try to think of positive things.
:I hope you can hear me. I'm glad your going to get better, and I'm not going anywhere. Don't let all those other voices get to you, okay? I'm here for you. Focus on me if you have to, okay? I want you to get better so I can yell at you later.:
Her hand tightens under mine, and her lips twitch. Good, she can hear me. I start telling her stories through pictures and words in my mind's eye.
:Everything will be fine, I promise.: I glance over to the window. It's snowing again...