Disclaimer: I do not own the Dresden Files in any way, shape or form, nor am I using these characters for anything more than my own amusement.
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Thomas dropped Murphy and I off at the hospital, telling us he'd drive back to his apartment to sleep off the worst of his injuries; and I could pick up Murphy's car later. Murphy got admitted to the ER right away—gaping back wound and all—but I had to wait for my ankle to be looked at. I desperately wanted to pace, but the pain from my twisted ankle deprived me of that luxury.
Instead, I got to wheel around the hospital's waiting room in a wheelchair that had been forced on me. Now that my adrenaline was wearing off, I noticed how grotesquely swollen my ankle was. All that running around on it probably had something to do with that. The throbbing pain in my ankle and my worry for Murph combined to make one incredibly ticked-off patient.
I felt sorry afterwards for snapping at the poor nurse who came to tell me that Murphy was ready to see me almost an hour after we had arrived. Luckily, her wound hadn't been deep enough for permanent damage, but she had needed quite a few stitches in her back and was still on mild sedatives.
When I rolled into her room, she was laying on her side facing away from the door, not really watching the TV. It was turned onto some show with a lot of explosions, which I turned off with the remote lying next to her. I parked my wheelchair next to Murphy's bedside, and she propped herself up on her elbows to look at me.
"So, um, how are you feeling?" I asked lamely.
"I've been better. You?"
"I've been worse." We both laughed a little. This sort of situation would have been awkward before, but now hospital visits were almost second nature. After a bit of silence, I added "Look, Murph, I'm sorry I got you into all this. I never should have tried to make you fight my old enemies for me, and—"
Murphy cut off my rambling apology. "Oh, just shut up and listen to me for once, Dresden. I've told you time and time again that it is my jobto protect the citizens of Chicago, and that includes you. And not just that, I want to protect you, even when you don't want me to. I've been thinking about it for a while, and…I love you too."
I noted, in passing, how close our faces were when she had finished speaking, and how beautifully blue her eyes looked in the fluorescent hospital light. There was a brief pause between us then, and the emotional side of my brain told me to kiss her already and the rational side of my brain told me it was probably her sedatives talking and we'd both regret it in the morning. I politely told the rational side of my brain to shut the hell up, and I kissed her.
The next morning, we didn't regret a thing.
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Eventually, the doctors got around to treating me—a simple ace bandage and some painkillers that I could have probably gotten by myself for much less money—and Murphy told me to go home and take a shower.
When I got back to my apartment, my blasting rod was sitting on my table with a note from Thomas. Apparently, he'd sweet-talked it back from the police just before Madrigal had jumped him and taken him hostage.
I showered, then collapsed on my bed to sleep for who knows how long. I woke the next morning to a loud knocking at my door. I shambled over to open it and found Thomas waiting for me. Although he had been shot only yesterday, he looked fresh and cheery. The bastard. "Thought I'd swing by with Murphy's car. We could drop by the hospital and pick her up." I nodded in agreement, still too tired to say much of anything.
As I walked toward the car, I noticed someone across the street. It was just a casual glance, but I thought the person looked familiar. At a second glance, I saw that is was Madeline Raith. She turned to meet my bewildered gaze, nodded coolly as if everything was alright between us, and walked away as if nothing had happened. Thomas noticed the silent exchange, and asked "Was that Madeline?"
"I think so," I replied. "Come on, if we get in the car now we can still run her over." Thomas just laughed and ushered me into the passenger seat. As I sat down, I complained "I'm serious!"
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I was relieved to see the sun again after yesterday's "solar eclipse." The sky was cloudless, electric blue that seemed to overcompensate for the previous day's darkness. I saw the sunlight streaming in through the windows of Murphy's hospital room and smiled at the way it lit up her blonde hair like a halo. She had been waiting for me when I arrived with the change of clothes I had brought for her. She took the jeans thankfully, but frowned at the periwinkle-blue and white shirt I brought.
"My mom bought this for me last year," she said thoughtfully, "I've never worn it."
"Too girly for you?" I taunted, but then paused and added seriously "I wanted to see how it would look on you." I didn't mention that I picked it out because I thought it would bring out her eyes. She gave me a little half-smile and told me to turn around. I did, and I certainly did not peek behind me when she was changing her clothes. Murphy wrapped her arms around me and gave me a small kiss on the base of my neck. I suspected she had to stand on her toes to reach that high, but I wasn't complaining. She walked out into the hallway, stopping and turning when I didn't follow.
"You coming?" she asked. I couldn't help but notice that I had been right about the shirt matching her eyes.
"Yeah."
In the past, both Murphy and I had had our own rocky relationships; she dealt with her first two husbands, and I had Susan and Elaine. We had suffered, but we lived and learned. When it came to love, we had our losses.
It's time we won.
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"That was one helluva birthday."
I smirked. "At least we didn't die."