Holding up this fortress
With imaginary forces
Longing for a life down below

.

You're sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands weakly grip the edge of the uncomfortable mattress as your eyesight once again begins to blur. Its been one week, one week of lying in a bed, one week of strangers poking and prodding at your chest and arm, one week of heavy medication and not being able to keep your eyes open for longer than twenty minutes never mind pay enough attention to actually hold a conversation.

You were shot on a Tuesday. Last Tuesday to be precise, one week ago today you had two bullets fired into your chest and stomach from a rookie cop trying to make a bit of extra cash on the side.

It had been seven days and your doctor, an older man, you guessed in his late fifties/early sixties with black, greying hair and glasses like that boy wizard from the books that your ten-year-old niece is obsessed with; his voice - that usually sounded like cats stuck in an air vent - sounded like music to your ears yesterday afternoon just after your check up and first appointment with the physical therapist when he said if all was well tomorrow you could be released.

Tomorrow was now today and everything was well which meant hallelujah you're going home.

"You okay?"

Her tender voice breaks your thoughts and your vision blurs slightly again for a second as you turn your head towards her and nod slowly. She doesn't have to be here, you told her at least seventeen times that you could easily get a cab to take you back to your barely lived in apartment. She openly laughed in your face and told you it was no bother to drive you there and help you get settled.

You remember the way her cheeks flushed and her head dropped to look at her shoes as she broke the gaze that was held between the pair of you after she offered. She was embarrassed. She had kissed you one week ago, and quite a few times since but nothing had ever been discussed about the nature of your relationship. You had never talked about anything other than work and idle chit-chat the three times you'd met up outside of working hours in previous weeks, there wasn't much time for chat between the obligatory 'what would you like to drink?' And the quick, yet teasing removal of two sets of clothing.

The undercover stint had now officially ended and the case had been all but closed, all that was left was court appearances as far as you were aware. Yet you were still being watched and were under strict instructions to watch what you said and who to due to some of Ganzel's people being warned about the case or something that you were too doped up on medication to even fully listen or pay attention to. This also meant no visits or calls to family or friends, which made your mother crazy. You had profusely apologised to Olivia for the tone in which your mother had spoken to her, ranting on about how her son could've died and she wasn't allowed to see him. It had taken all of your strength - and the fact that you had bullet holes in your upper body - not to jump on Olivia and thank her for keeping your mother away from you.

You know you're her only son and her youngest child - the baby of the family - but fucking hell; she could be overbearing. If anyone ever needed any situation over exaggerated all they would have to do is phone your mother.

The last thing you wanted was for Olivia to feel like she had to be here, sleeping together three times doesn't equal a relationship, you were both fully aware of that and yet she's here, packing the few belongings you have into a gym bag and waiting for the nurse to return with your discharge papers. She's here, in this hospital room, like she has been everyday since you were admitted, the exhaustion is evident in her face, between working every hour god sends to make sure this case sticks and visiting you in this god forsaken hospital its obvious she's barely had any time for herself and that makes you feel beyond guilty.

"Liv, you know you don't…"

"Bri, if you tell me I don't have to do this one more time, I'm gonna convince that doctor to keep you here another week" She smiles as your face changes, knowing that she probably would.

She already thinks its too early, she hovers over you and asks if you're okay more times than she'd like to admit but you know she's anxious, she witnessed everything. She saw the bullets enter your body, she saw you hit the ground with a heavy thud then watched as the blood seeped from the wounds in your chest and you looked at her with terrified, pleading eyes. She even saw you flat line in the ambulance, something you didn't find out until three nights ago when she quietly whispered it from the chair beside your bed as she held your hand.

"Yeah well, you don't…" She raises her eyebrow at you and you give her a small smile "But thank you, I do appreciate it" You tell her, your voice quiet and slightly slurred.

"Those painkillers have kicked in good, huh?" She chuckles as she folds the last shirt into the bag and zips it closed, lifting it to the chair that she had occupied for the last week.

"Who are you again?" You squint your eyes to look at her as she smiles back at you.

"Ha ha" She replies, taking three steps forward and sitting by your side on the bed. "The nurse should be here soon with your papers then we can go"

You just nod along and stare at the floor, your body feels heavy and light at the same time and you can feel your mind shutting off, these are some strong painkillers you've been prescribed but the main thing is you cant feel the gaping wounds that cover your right side.

Your overactive imagination kicks into high gear as the nurse comes into the room followed moments later by the doctor who is telling Olivia about your medication and it's side affects and what to watch out for when you get home.

You can't even think that far, your mind goes into overdrive and anxiety floods your veins as you imagine the worst possible scenario; is Ganzel going to have hired someone else to shoot you as you walk through the double doors of the hospital? Drive by maybe? Hell maybe you're already dying and the haziness isn't from the medication but the doctor is actually one of Ganzel's buddies and he's tried to poison you so by the time you actually die no one would be able to tell it was him or maybe Liv's turned to the dark side and the only reason she offered to drive you is because she's actually planning to…

Okay now you definitely know your imagination has gotten the better of you. You've never known Olivia to harm anyone unless it was self-defence, or the causal slap to a perp.

"Bri…" You look up and find her standing in front of you, concern gracing her features as she tries to find the light behind your eyes, any indication to let her know you can actually hear her.

"Yeah, sorry I just…drifted I guess" You apologise and try to stand only to feel the shooting pain in your upper body. Olivia obviously hears the groans of pain and can see from your expression that it hurts and she drops the gym bag with your belongings in an instant and somehow gently yet firmly grabs your arms to help you up.

The nurse re-enters the room just then with a wheelchair and you glance between her and the brunette who's currently holding you upright.

"Aw hell no, I'm not getting in a chair…"

"Bri…"

"I'm sorry Mr Cassidy but it's hospital policy" The small, older woman replies as she smiles and pats the back of the chair.

You look at Olivia, pleading with her to help you but she just chuckles and shakes her head. For a few seconds you hate her, or rather you feel the need to at least jokingly hate her as she guides you over to the chair and grins as she speaks, her voice light and cheerful, and as you know so well, full of sarcasm.

"Now, Mr Cassidy, we can't have you ignoring hospital policy"

Lyrics: Citadel - Anna Nalick

Twitter: ahoycinderella