Wyatt raced from the bunker and tripped the alarm in the process. The blare of the siren muted as he dropped the hatch lid with a bang and loped towards the lone vehicle in the lot. A beat-up chevy wasn't his idea of a fast ride and the muffler was shot but the luxury of choice wasn't something he could afford to complain about.
The agent in charge of the 'abandoned' lot raised a brow as he watched from the treeline. Logan had looked panicked as he burned a line in the pavement bombing out of there but Christopher had warned him when she left not to get in his way.
Bumping along the cracked asphalt Wyatt prayed the truck wouldn't shake apart as he turned onto the highway, foot to the floor. He may as well have had blinders on for all that he saw anything on the road but the road right in front of him. That tunnel-vision focus almost got him side-swiped as a semi changed lanes without warning. It didn't help that the sun had set and rain had made the pavement slick and reflective.
His hands hurt from how hard he gripped the wheel and by the time he peeled into the hospital parkade he had to peel his skin off the vinyl. He practically ripping his receipt from the slot and ran into Emergency only to find the place was packed.
Every seat was occupied with people in various stages of distress. An older man with an oxygen tank was gesticulating to a younger woman, nearly hitting Wyatt in the face. A glance at the front desk nearly had him groan aloud. They had a ticket system, now serving number 78. The dispenser near the door spit out "98″ into his hand and he had to fight to keep from punching a wall.
With a great deal of control he forced himself into a corner and picked up a men's health magazine from 2005, flipping through the pages without glancing too hard at anything in particular. One eye was on the counter, the other on the door. He would argue that the threat of Rittenhouse had simply made him alert, not paranoid but the stress of the past few hours definitely had him edging closer to full panic than he'd been in a long time.
He leg bounced absently, as his eyes triangled between the counter, the door and the clock. He made the circuit at least 146 times before he lost count.
"98!"
A voice rang out over the crowd and Wyatt shot up, magazine falling to the ground and he practically flew to the front desk.
"Hi. I'm looking for a Lucy Preston. She was brought in for surgery with a gunshot wound."
The woman behind the desk didn't appear to be in any hurry as she tapped the keys on her computer one finger at a time and adjusted her glasses, squinting at the screen for what seemed like weeks.
"She's been moved into recovery, Room 319. If you're visiting please sign in here and note the ti-."
He grabbed the pen in the holder and dashed off a completely illegible scribble as his name, guessed at the time and dashed through the doors. The nearest elevator was conveniently right in front of him but when he tapped the button he had to stand still, something he was never very good at. And tapping the button repeatedly of course did nothing but aggravate him so he looked down the hallway and found the nearest stairwell instead, taking the steps three at a time.
It took some time as he loped down the hallways, following signs until he spotted Agent Christopher and an unknown agent standing in front of a door. He skidded to a halt in front of her, took a deep breath and reiterated his original question to her.
"How is she?"
"Stable. For now. The bullet apparently broke several ribs which pierced her lung. There were some complications during surgery and they have her on a ventilator no-"
Wyatt stepped past her and pushed open the door. Lucy was in a hospital bed, still and silent with all sorts of tubes and wires connecting her to machines. He felt his heart in his ears as he slowly walked up to her. They had her in a hospital gown that was voluminous on her and she somehow looked worse than when he buckled her into the Lifeboat.
The ventilator whirred up and down, the heart monitor gently beeped. He reached down to grab hold of her hand and found her cold to the touch which just made him tighten his grip.
"They're worried she might develop pneumonia." He heard a voice behind him and dropped her hand to turn and see Christopher had quietly entered the room.
"How long does she have to stay?" Her recovery was important but they both knew the greater danger lay with Rittenhouse. If she was discovered…
"It depends on when she comes off the ventilator."
"But you're going to post someone outside right?"
"At all times, until she's back in the bunker yes."
He felt part of the coil in his shoulders unwind. "I'm staying."
"I thought you might," she muttered. "But you'll be under house arrest. You are not under any circumstances to leave the building. If a mission comes up someone will be by to relieve you. Agreed?"
He nodded. The idea of being cooped up didn't appeal to him but at least this way he could stay with Lucy.
"I'm heading back but I'm leaving Agent Theirin behind. If you need anything call me on my cell." She handed him what he assumed was a burner cell and with that she left.
With that the two of them were left alone. Wyatt pulled up a chair and tried to ignore the tube in her mouth and the slackness in her face.
"Hey." He took hold of her hand, holding it between both of his to warm her up. "You're lucky you missed dinner. Jiya cooked again. Mac and cheese. Even Rufus couldn't choke it down. You really…" He choked and couldn't finish the idiom.
For a long while he watched her face but the steady beep of the heart monitor and whir of the ventilator lulled him to sleep. He jerked awake sometime later, his head snapped up from his chest.
Blinking he ran a hand through his hair and used the private bathroom to splash cold water on his face. A glance at the mirror revealed a haggard man with the threat of stubble on his face. He hadn't slept in at least a day, having caught a few hours before their mission. Mostly he'd just stared up at the ceiling and worried, unable to sleep. Now thought he couldn't afford to doze, meaning he had to go in search of coffee. Before leaving he took one last look at her.
"I'll be right back."
Outside he gave the agent a nod and walked off to find the cafeteria. Forty minutes later he was still looking. Following signs, arrows and painted lines on the floor didn't appear to be helping as he kept getting distracted only to have to backtrack and start over. When he finally arrived he found it was as crowded as Emergency had been. The line up almost reached out the door and he wasn't interested in being away from Lucy for that long. So instead he turned around and hunted until he found a caffeine vending machine, plinked some coins into a vending machine and watched as a weak stream of pre-made brew sputtered into a cup.
One sip had him shuddering. A burnt aftertaste made him think it was the tail end of a batch but he grit his teeth and downed it anyway. He couldn't afford to mess with his sleep cycle by napping at 2pm and needed to be awake to keep an eye on Lucy. He made a face and downed the rest and crushed the cup before tossing it out.
On his return he saw several nurses exiting her room. Fear grabbed hold of his chest as he rushed up to them.
"What happened?"
"She woke up so we took her breathing tube out. You can go in if you like." An older woman with purple scrubs smiled at him.
He entered to find a very tired Lucy lying in bed. She smiled when she saw him.
"Hey."
"Hey." He took a seat next to her and fisted his hands in his lap to keep from reaching out to her. "How are you feeling?"
She chuckled and gave him a lazy grin. "Kinda loopy actually. They put me on painkillers and I feel a little floaty. We're not in the bunker are we?"
"No. You're at the nearest hospital but there's an agent just outside."
She sighed sleepily. "I don't need an agent."
He frowned. "Lucy, we had to use your real name to get you admitted. Rittenhouse could easily find you. That's why we need the agent."
She shook her heard. "I don't need them. I've got you."
He could feel his face flush down to his neck as he cleared his throat to cover his shock. "You must be really doped up if you think I can take on Rittenhouse alone if they stop by."
"Wyatt I might be high but I know you wouldn't let anything happen to me."
His smile faltered at the admission and he ducked his head to hide it.
"Hey you don't get to feel guilty about this."
"Lucy," he sighed.
"You know you saved my life right?" She yawned, blinking slowly at him. "If you hadn't driven that fast and hidden in Scott's garage…"
"I'm just glad you're alright."
"Mmmhmm." She sank back into her pillow, clearly struggling to stay awake. "Wyatt?"
"Yeah?"
"Would you stay? Just till I fall asleep?"
"Sure. Just till you fall asleep."
She smiled and closed her eyes, relaxing into the bed. He watched over her until his own eyes started to droop. Hours later both were fast asleep, Lucy cocooned by a soft pillow and blankets and Wyatt bent over her bed, head cradled in his elbow, their hands joined.