❝ Some people live more in 20 years than others do in 80. It's not the time that matters, it's the person. ❞ - The Doctor, Season 3, Episode 6

Bodies are everywhere, all over the crime scene, and Mike can feel an all-too-familiar dread in the pit of his stomach. She told him he was going out for a couple drinks with friends, and said she was going to a local gay night-club (of course they'd joked about it). This was the only gay nightclub in New York; the rest were just casual bars and it was more than just a little distressing. There were forty-nine people dead, and they weren't sure of who did it yet. Mike forced himself to step over the bodies necessary to step outside to take a deep breath; he needed it. He removed his phone and pressing the keys rapidly, rubbed his slackened jaw.

Text: Where are you? Are you okay?

Sigh. He pocketed the phone and took a look around, trying to focus. He had to focus.

"'Ey, Mikey, you alright?" Came the call of Greevey and he had to compose himself before turning around.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just...a lot of fuckin' dead people."

"No kiddin'." Answered Greevey, glancing back at the club door where the coroner was wheeling out bodies by the dozen. "You got any clue about this?"

"No." He responded, turning back to the nightclub. "We got anything?"

"Might. Perp left the guns in the dumpster out back."

Mike nodded slowly and looked around again, still struggling to focus and also hide the fact that he was worried. Greevey didn't appear to notice and even if he did, he didn't say anything and just lead the way to their car with Mike following suit.

Text: Amelia, this isn't funny. Where are you?

Text: There was a shooting at that club you were at.

Text: 49 are dead.

Text: Hoping you aren't one of them.

Text: I'll kill you if you are.

She can slowly feel herself regaining consciousness and it's more painful than she wants or expected it to be. Groggy, she glances around and takes in her surroundings. White walls, a curtain, IV drip...hospital. God, she hated hospitals! How did she end up here? The lights...the music...the gunfire...slowly, it started to come back and she grabbed at her head, starting to feel a headache come on.

"Oh, sweetie, you're awake!" Hands touch her shoulder and almost instantly, she jerked away.

There was no way. This witch.

Sure enough, when she looked to her side, the sight that greeted her was the one she dreaded. An older woman, fairly tall, with long, layered blonde hair and blue eyes, dressed in a black suit. She had a ring on her finger that looked like it'd been there longer than it should've (and you could bet your ass it had been.)

"Mum?" She asked, obviously confused.

A visibly wrinkled hand came to brush through dark black strands. "Yeah, sweetie, it's me."

"W-what are you doing here?" The shock was slowly starting to wear off.

"Me and your dad are still your emergency contacts, dear. Haven't changed that, have ya?"

"D-dad's here?" A thick gulp.

"Oh, no. He's on his way with your younger sister. Are you thirsty? You must be with that damn morphine. Ya know, when I gave birth to you, when I woke up, I was so damn thirsty, I just woke up-"

"And walked right out of the hospital and went to the nearest bar and got a scotch. Yeah, I know, mum. Listen, I am really thirsty. Can you go get me some water? A-and get the nurse. I-I really hurt."

"Of course, sweetie." She smooths the girl's hair before kissing her forehead and striding out. Not long after, a nurse enters and starts checking the IV and stats.

"Excuse me." She interrupted the nurse, "I need you to do me a favor, please."

"Of course, what is it, dear?" The nurse asked.

"I need you to contact a friend of mine. His name is Mike Logan. His number's in my phone. Please. Please. I need you to call him and tell him I'm here."

The nurse nodded slowly and made her exit, with her mother returning not long after with a cup of water.

"I'm here to see an Amelia Weiss. Where is she?" Mike demanded of the front desk, impatiently rapping his nails against the marble.

"You're Mike Logan?" The nurse asked, standing.

"Yeah. Where is she? Is she alright?" He was practically leaning over the counter by now.

"She's fine. She was grazed by a bullet-" Mike was walking off now, searching the rooms. The nurse quickly followed, calling after him. "Excuse me, sir! Sir!"

"Where is she? I need to see her!"

"Sir! If you'd follow me!" She raised her voice so that Mike could hear her and he stopped, giving a defeated sigh and turning to follow her.

"Sorry, uh, do show the way."

Turns out, she was fine, really. She was resting for that moment and honestly, she was really peaceful when she slept. Dark hair fell about her pale shoulder, almost like a halo, and it was weird because he could've sworn he didn't believe in God or angels and yet, he also could've sworn an angel was laying in the hospital bed in front of him. Now that he really got the chance to look at her, she was really quite pretty. A pale face, black hair, full pale pink lips, long eyelashes and good cheekbones. She had some dark circles underneath her eyes, and the remnants of her makeup only made it worse, but somehow, it only made her prettier. Slowly, she began to wake up and he watched as bright blue eyes fluttered open and damn, it was like getting punched in the gut. Instantly, they lit up at the sight of him and she sat up, wincing slightly.

"Mike! You've gotta get me outta here!"

"What?" His face contorted instantly in concern. "Why? What are you talking about?"

"Listen, at a later date, we can paint each other's nails and talk about how much of a witch my mum is but right now-"

"Damn, you too? Are all moms bad?" He sat back in his seat, giving a defeated sigh.

"I'd like to think not." She says, laying back. "But seriously, please. My dad will be here any minute. Get. me. out. of. here. now."

He sighs and nods, leaving the room to start her discharge, as reluctant as he was to let her out of this place.

"Listen, I'm letting you out of here on one condition." He pushes the wheelchair she's in down the hall towards the exit, glancing behind them once.

"Oh yeah? And what's that?" She asks, rubbing her head. She was still feeling that headache.

"You stayin' with me." He stopped the wheelchair and came around it, bending down to her level. He could already see how down she was for the idea. She wasn't.

"In that case, just check me back in." She chortles, waving a hand around.

"Hey, you've been grazed by a damn bullet, okay? That doesn't mean you can just go about your daily activities. You still need to heal. Besides, it's not like you're staying with a weirdo whose gonna try something." He takes her by the hand, rubbing it. She quirks a brow, giving him the most unbelieving face he's ever seen but he's hoping, no, praying (for once in his life!) that she'll take the offer.

"That's not true. I'll be staying with a weirdo."

"Hey!"

"But I accept. Take me home, Logan."