Author's Note:

The writer's bane: writer's block. I suffer from it severely. There seems to be no other cure than writing anyways, so I shall write despite the fact that I have no idea as to where particular chapter is going (unlike other chapters).

Oh, which reminds me... Wait... Nevermind! Gotta decide on that title and what I'm doing for the cover now...any cover design ideas?

I'm also thinking about including Amy in any other of my Criminal Minds FanFics (and there will be more once I'm done with this series), but she would bring Dom and Eloïse along too...and I have ideas but I really need help on this stuff...

So read the chapter, PM me or review with ideas, and enjoy. My decision is final: once it is made, there is no turning back. That's the mentality behind this AUHL series.

To the actual chapter now...


Thursday, February 16th, 2012 2:18 PM
Local hospital, North Carolina

Amy sighed. She'd spent the day with Domonick, Reid, and Eloise in the hospital, the reporter Danielle leaving shortly after the picture of Stan was shown. She'd been happy, sure, but that wasn't why she was sighing.

Amy closed her eyes. So much was coming forth now. Reid shared with them he also had a half-sister who, as Mrs. Meyes admitted, was married to Mrs. Meyes' son, James. Aryanna had heard about Amy, and wished to meet her once the time was right. Something about the way Reid talked about her caught Amy's attention, but she decided to ignore it...for now.

She knew Danielle was coming back, which was one reason Dom was gone. He and Reid had gone off to Reid's place for who-knows-what - Amy couldn't be sure, but she suspected Dom was getting ready to meet Danielle again and also working out the rooming arrangements they had been talking about the night before - and Eloise had gone off to talk to several people on her design team in a rather important meeting. Or so the fashion designer had claimed.

Amy sighed again. There was one thing missing from her life now, something she never knew she'd miss having. It was a someone, actually. She felt she owed that someone something, but in truth, that someone owed them quite a bit more than she owed them. That someone ruined her life, yes, but that someone was still someone she cared about.

"Stan," Amy whispered, the name echoing in the otherwise-empty hospital room. She was the only one inside, alone amidst monitors and other pieces of technology that could keep her alive and monitored if she was or not. "Stan Fields." The name sounded right. "Stan Carter." That too, however, sounded right. "Stan..." Amy sighed. It hurt to sigh now. Her upper torso was killing her, so-to-speak. "Stan...how could you? You and I were perfectly fine as family friends and you being my dance instructor. Why did you change that? It's cost you your life now, and it's cost me my ability to walk and dance. You've ruined your favorite part of me. For what? A love we could never have? Stan..." Amy cut her whisperings off as she saw Reid, Domonick, and Danielle walking over. Dom had changed into decent tan pants and a blue button down shirt, the long black brace a sign of his handicapmnent. Reid was the same, still wearing that maroonish button down shirt and black pants. Amy smiled and waved, then regretted waving, instantly pressing her hands to her waist as the flaming tendrils of pain massaged her from the inside and tickled her on the out.

She was having difficulty breathing as Rossi allowed Reid, Dom, and Danielle inside. Dom was over by her side as quickly as he could on his crutches. "Amy, are you okay?"

"Can't...really...breathe...hurts...too...much..." Her voice came out in high-pitched gasps.

Reid was already on his way out the door as he exclaimed, "I'll get a nurse!"

Dom nodded, taking Amy's hand. "It'll go away soon, I promise."

All Amy could do was nod and wince in pain, pressing her lips tight to prevent the scream that so desperately wished to escape. She didn't bother adding her thoughts: Please don't promise something you cannot control!

The nurse arrived very quickly with Dr. Stone and Reid. "Amy, what's wrong?"

As soon as Amy opened her lips, her eyes squeezed shut and she screamed.

Dr. Stone nodded. "Same medication, same dose. It's simply worn off."

The nurse nodded and walked over to Amy's IV, sticking a small plunger into a spot in the cord. "There. That should do the trick soon."

Dr. Stone nodded, dismissing the nurse with, "Thank you, Fannie."

Amy's eyes were squeezed shut, but the tears kept flowing anyways.

Dr. Stone stood at the end of her hospital bed, biting his lip, his hands clasped behind his back. "I know it hurts. Believe me, I know."

Dom and Reid both nodded. "So do I," they said in unison, then exchanged glances.

Dr. Stone nodded as well. "1996, shot in the hip. Let's leave it at that, shall we?"

Amy nodded, not wishing to hear more of being shot. "Please, let's." The pain was slowly subsiding as the medication worked its way through her system. Taking a deep breath, she turned her attention to Danielle and asked, "So, did you wish to begin today?"

Danielle stood, having sat on the arm of Dom's chair. "Uh, yes. Only if you're ready, of course."

"As I'll ever be."

Danielle dug into her bag and took out a tape recorder, a pen, and a notepad. "All I'm going to ask is for you to talk and say whatever it is you want. Whatever information I don't get that I think I might need I'll ask at a later date. Alright?"

"Yes, that's fine."

Reid quickly asked, "Should we leave?"

Dr. Stone quickly asked, "Which of you is her brother? You look so alike."

Dom raised his hand.

"I need to speak to you. Come with me to my office, and we'll talk."

Dom slowly stood, told Amy he'd be back, and followed Dr. Stone on his crutches.

Danielle watched as Dom left, smiling. "You can stay if you want, and if Amy doesn't mind."

Amy shook her head. "I don't mind."

Reid sat again, nodding. "Alright. I'll stay."

"Whenever you're ready, Amy, just give me a second to start recording, okay?"

Amy nodded, took a deep breath, nodded again, and began to speak. "Where to start? I guess the easiest thing to say is I never thought I'd be in this kind of a situation. This is the kind of thing you see on TV in crime dramas, where there's a really bad crime and the police come to save the current victim at the last minute. In a way, that's what this feels like. But then in another way, it feels all too much like a nightmare to be real. Then in yet another way, it's reality, and I have to face it.

"I guess the easiest thing to say is I expected everything that happened. I expected Stan's anger. I expected our singing argument. I expected being shot. I expected his death. But I also expected things that didn't happen. I expected to die painlessly. I didn't expect that I'd live, nor did I expect to live in so much pain and uncertainty. But I know I have to accept this and move on. Granted, I can't move on one step at a time, but I can be sure to do it a different way.

"Stan took away more than just my loved ones, virginity, and ability to walk and dance. He took away my ability to move on properly. I am forever cursed with reminders that part of me belongs to him, and therefore I feel like I don't belong here on Earth, but nor do I belong dead. What I've decided is I belong in a world that's pretty judgemental and not the slightest bit accepting, but I know that's where I fit.

"Music is all I've really lived on for the past two months. Now I really can't see existing in a world without it being my center. The flow of sound to rhythm and patterns is simply a form of magic in regards to my mental and emotional state. Music transports me to a better life, where I have everyone I know and love around me and everyone knows and loves me, too. Music is magic. It calms me, it soothes me, it inspires me. Granted, taking the stage will be pretty difficult considering my immovability. I'll have to play piano for a while and sing, or simply sit while I sing, which is really not the greatest for the voice, but whatever. I have no choice anymore.

"What I'm trying to say is this: I'm not going to let the past hinder me more than I can cope with. I'll be hindered physically, sure, but my mind's been made up to make sure nothing like this happens to anyone else, because it's simply wrong. No one should have to watch their loved ones die. No one should have to feel responsible for death or injury or destruction. No one should have to feel like they deserve to die because of what happened. Unfortunately, I do. Music helps take that feeling away as I express it. I suppose I use music as a crutch where I'm not strong enough to go and move on. I just want to feel better and help others. What more can I ask for?

"The answer's simple, really: I can't ask for more than I'm willing to give. And I'm only willing to give what I am capable of giving. And right now, that isn't much, but it's all I've got."


Yep. All's left is an epilogue, and Wounded's done. I have a very genius idea for the epilogue.

The new story will be called...heh heh heh, foreshadowing...Savior From The Grave. It won't be out for a while, just a warning.