A/N Thank you so much for the reviews already! They quite literally make my day! I can't get this story out my head, so expect more chapters soon!
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Love you all already!
Chapter 4
Henrik Hanssen stood staring in complete shock at the scene in front of him. For one thing, he had just, quite literally, dodged a bullet. For another thing, the cavalier and seemingly careless Mr Douglas had just saved his life.
Greg had tackled Mr Peters to the floor and was now on top of him, pinning him down. The gun, Hanssen was relieved to see, was now several feet away from the gunman's struggling hands.
With a jolt of concern, he noticed a steady dripping of blood coming from Greg's arm.
"Mr Douglas," Hanssen said, in his best 'in control' voice, "are you alright?"
"Fine, thanks," he said, grimacing. "He barely got me."
"Mr Hanssen!" a nurse shouted suddenly.
He turned around to see Sahira staring at him with wide eyes.
"Sahira," he gasped as he saw where the second gunshot had landed.
Sahira swayed where she stood as a stream of blood spread across her white shirt.
He ran over to her and caught her around the waist just as her eyes rolled back and her legs gave way beneath her. Kneeling on the floor, he held her small, limp body in his arms which were already becoming covered in her blood.
"Sahira?" he asked frantically. "Sahira, can you hear me?"
Her eyes flickered open but her expression was glassy and dazed.
"Everything is going to be fine," he promised, feeling a lump rise in his throat. "Get me a trolley over here," he yelled over his shoulder.
Glancing around, he called to one of the nurses,
"Someone get me something to try and stop this bleeding!" A couple of the nurses began hurrying to the supply cupboard, but before they had even reached it, a quick-thinking patient had stripped the pillowcase from his pillow and thrown it to Hanssen.
"Where's that trolley?" he demanded, impatiently, as he haphazardly tore Sahira's shirt open to get a better look at the bullet wound.
The bullet had hit her chest, just under her left shoulder. Hanssen groaned inwardly but did everything he could to keep his face neutral. Pressing the pillowcase to her chest he said, with a small smile,
"Well, that doesn't look too bad at all. I'll still be expecting those audits on my desk this evening."
But they knew each other too well. Hanssen knew she wasn't falling for his poor attempt at confidence.
At that moment, the double doors burst open and Jac Naylor came on the ward.
"What the hell is going on here?" she asked, astonished.
"Miss Naylor," Hanssen said, "prep theatre one for me, if you please. GSW to the chest."
Jac didn't say anything but took one slightly perplexed look at Greg with his bloody arm and Sahira lying barely conscious in Hanssen's arms and hurried out of the ward.
Just then, Hanssen heard the clinking of a trolley being wheeled up behind him by two nurses.
He lifted Sahira gently on to it, fighting back his growing panic when he saw the pillow case he had used was already soaked through with her blood.
"Don't worry about a thing, Miss Shah," he said matter-of-factly. Although he was trying to reassure himself as much as her, "you're going to be just fine."
She looked up at him and gave a weak, but definitely mischievous smile.
"Why Mr Hanssen, are you crying?"
"Of course not," he said sharply, blinking hard to try and rid his eyes of the tears that had been welling up.
"I know you won't let anything happen to me. I trust you."
Hanssen didn't know if it was just his imagination, but he could have sworn Sahira was getting paler by the second.
"Come on, let's move," he demanded. "Nurse, come here and keep pressure on this wound."
Just as they reached the ward doors, six armed policemen burst through. Two of them hurried forward and took over from Greg at holding Mr Peters down even though he had stopped struggling.
"Out of the way," Hanssen snapped as the trolley pushed through the mass of new arrivals.
As they rushed down the corridor, a nurse ran up behind them.
"Mr Hanssen," she asked.
"Yes?" he said, a little sharply.
"Miss Naylor just called Darwin, she wants to know who will be doing the operation. Should I page Mr Hope?"
"I hardly think that's necessary. I will be doing the operation."
"But Mr Hanssen, perhaps Mr Hope or Miss Naylor would be more suitable..." the nurse puffed, practically jogging to keep up with his long strides.
"because doctors aren't supposed to operate on family or-"
But Hanssen cut her off, his irritation building.
"Miss Shah is not a member of my family; therefore, I will be doing the operation."
"I know sir, but..."
"Enough!" he snapped, becoming thoroughly impatient. "I am doing this operation and that's final."
The nurse slowed her pace then, falling behind Hanssen. She looked a little startled, perhaps by her own boldness for suggesting that the director of surgery wasn't an appropriate surgeon for this case.
"Henrik," Sahira mumbled, reaching out and grabbing on to his hand which was clutching the side of the trolley.
"What is it?" he said, his breath catching in his throat.
"Henrik, you mustn't..." she said, gasping.
"I mustn't what?" he asked, wondering if she was going to tell him not to operate on her.
"If something happens," she continued, "you mustn't blame yourself."
"Nothing will happen to you," he said firmly.
She knew him very well. She knew as well as he did that if something were to happen to her on the operating table, Hanssen would feel personally responsible for the rest of his life.
"I won't let anything happen to you," he continued more gently. "I've told you before; I simply couldn't live without you... and I don't plan to try."
As they reached the anaesthetic room, Hanssen moved off in to the scrub room.
With a last long glance at Sahira, he smiled and said,
"See you on the ice."