Chapter 8

"Oh shit. SHIT! What the hell are you doing, you fucking idiot?! Don't just stand there! Find her goddamn partner! Fuck. C'mon, Someya. Don't you do this to me, goddamn you. WHERE IS THAT AMBULANCE?! And get a call to precinct 80 now!"

Consciousness was slow to return to the officer, her senses turning on one by one. Through the fogginess she could make out the beeping of familiar machines, though they sounded distorted, as if everything was underwater.

Forcing her eyelids open, she took in the white tiles that greeted her. It was dark, wherever she was, the lights dimmed so that didn't completely drive nails into her head. It didn't take long for her to piece together her location. She was at the hospital, and judging from the way she felt, she was likely to be there for some time.

It was a common myth that when having a near death experience, your life would flash before your eyes, your brain stretching a precious second to replay the entirety of your life from birth to present, allowing you to reflect on and mourn all your missed opportunities or regrets.

Yukari figured that she was inherently wired to skip all that reflective nonsense and focus on the most important things, because the last thing she remembered was praying for Ichigo to catch the bastard who had shot her, hoping the guy who had tackled her off the second story warehouse walkway was dead, and bizarrely wishing she had a nice cup of hot chocolate on her.

Her attempts at moving were mostly unsuccessful, only one of her arms obeying her mental orders. That did, at least, attract some attention from whoever was in the room, but she lost the fight to keep her eyes open as she heard her name being called. Later. She would talk later, when it didn't hurt so much to stay awake.

~X~

"Here, take it easy."

"Thanks."

She took the small cup of water her father handed her, wincing at her lack of strength. Aside from various gunshot wounds -one that had missed her vest, and three that had been stopped but left enormous bruises-, she'd crashed into a pile of crates that had given her a concussion, a fractured wrist, a fractured shoulder, and a snapped leg that had required surgery to fix. Her leg had been the worst injured, as her fall had caused an avalanche of heavy crates, one of which had landed on it. From what the doctor told her, she was lucky to have already been unconscious when her leg had snapped. It would be months before she could walk on it properly, and she would still need physical therapy afterwards.

Of course, she could have easily died as well.

Her father took the cup when she was done drinking, knowing she didn't have the strength to put it back without spilling it. "Where's mom?"

"She went to get some lunch just before you woke up."

Her mother hadn't left the hospital since her arrival, though Yukari had finally convinced her to go home tonight, and stay there for at least a full day to sleep and rest. She didn't want her mother to get sick herself.

It wasn't like she was going to go anywhere with her entire left side immobilized after all, and she wasn't even awake most of the day, thanks to all the pain medication she was on.

The first thing she had asked about, once she was capable of talking, was Ichigo and the two shooters she had been chasing. The one who had fallen with her was dead before her backup had arrived, and Ichigo had taken down the one who had shot her. Her father had shared that her canine partner had almost refused to let go of the guy, and had to be held back by Takaoka when the ambulance had taken her. The poor dog had been distraught nearly to violence at her condition, only quieting when her father had arrived at the scene to take him.

"Where is Ichigo staying?" She hadn't been awake long enough to ask about where her partner was staying before, but she assumed he was with her grandparents or the station kennel, as her parents had been in the hospital with her most of their days.

"We had him in the station kennels, since none of us were really home. We didn't want him to be alone. He howled the entire first day, and refused to eat." Her father caught the worry on her face and rested his hand on her arm. "Don't worry. We already took him out. He didn't want to eat with my parents either, but mom solved that problem. He's staying with Maki-san right now. He's still depressed, but he's eating."

She breathed a sigh of relief, glad that her poor partner was doing better. He wasn't allowed into the hospital to see her, so all the poor dog knew was that his handler was gone. They'd never been separated longer than a few hours, and she herself felt a little anxious at his absence.

"She's visited often, by the way. Maki," he clarified. "You were sleeping though, and she didn't want to leave Ichigo for long."

Though disappointed that she had missed the visits, she couldn't help but smile. As much as she could through the haze of medication and exhaustion, anyway.

"Here's your phone. She left some messages for you."

It wasn't until her parents had left, the setting sun bathing her room orange, that she forced her shaking hand to access her messages.

You've been sleeping a lot, but I figured that when you were awake, you might want something to make you smile.

The rest were pictures. Of her trip. Of Ichigo. Of the people who had stopped by to bring her gifts while she was still comatose.

Ichigo misses you, but I promise I'm taking good care of him.

Your grandparents are lovely people. They had lots of stories to share with me.

Minami wants to sign your cast, though she may just end up drawing all over it. It'll be the best looking cast ever~

The officers you work with are an interesting group. They called me your girlfriend?

Ichigo has taken to sleeping at the foot of my bed.

I gave in and let him sleep on the bed. He just isn't as happy without you.

Neither am I.

She fell asleep with her phone in hand, and tears dripping from her chin.

~X~

"Yukari?"

Her eyes shot open. "Maki," she coughed, voice rough with lack of energy and the effects of the medication.

That didn't seem to matter to the artist, who looked so relieved to see her awake, talking, alive, that tears pooled in her eyes. She was at Yukari's side in an instant, gently taking a hold of her hand and, with the officer's encouragement, seating herself at the edge of her bed. Maki wasted no time in leaning into her, sniffling into her good shoulder.

The hospital gown was too thin to pretend Maki wasn't crying, and she had to force herself to take several deep breaths through her closed throat to keep herself from doing the same. She cursed her casts and splints, wishing she could just wrap her arms around the artist and comfort her.

"When they called me, they hadn't been given any word on your condition. I raced to the airport and got on the first flight here." Maki said in between sniffles. "I didn't know if you would. If you would still be alive when I got here."

Slipping her hand free, she did her best to -carefully- throw her arm around the woman, tangling a stiff hand in her hair. What was she supposed to say? She'd been lucky, very lucky, and she knew it. It was the sort of thing that came with the job. You could either accept it, or quit.

"I'm sorry."

And she was. Sorry for scaring her, for putting her through the very thing she had hated the most growing up, for not being able to reassure her now.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, because apparently she hadn't cried enough last night. She'd been hurt before, yes, back when all of her relationships, friends, family, or romantic, were strained or breaking, back when she had been angrier and unhappy. But even then, none of those incidents were anywhere near as bad as this.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, the choked words lost in the artist's hair.

Maki pulled away just enough that she could reach up and wipe some of the tears from her face. "You're alive. That's all that matters now."

Neither of them could really smile, not yet, but for now they could be content with holding each other.