To those of you that are reading:

Sorry for the slightly late update; I know I usually update daily, but I've been sick for the past few days, and it's put a damper on things. :c

Here's the mad dash to save the doctor's life ... lots of medical stuff going on ... so if that freaks you out, don't read!

As always, I love you guys and I'm so happy to be writing for you. It makes my day to read your reviews, and it really inspires me to keep going!

Thanks as always for your encouragement and support; I wouldn't be on chapter thirty-six without it!

And now, without further ado ... General Hospital! ... I mean ... Uh ... ...

WARNING: There is a lot of blood, needles, and a slight amount of nudity/sexual content in this chapter.

FYI: To whom it may concern: In my mind, Tank is 35ish, Kathleen is 21ish, Richtofen is 38ish, Takeo is 37ish, and Nikolai might be pushing mid-forty.

1337: He did indeed! Both of those things! C: Here's the installment, a little bit late! I hope you enjoy, and thank you as always my dear!

M3D1C101: YOU LOGGED IN! :D And YOU'RE so nice! :) I love you my dearest! And indeed … we'll be dealing with that bullet wound in this chapter … D: … I can't wait to write more Nikolai! (And I listened to the sparta remix; it was awesome!)

AnonymouseXI: Hehehe indeed … she's such delightful little manipulative brat. XD … I love her so much. And the thought of you doing a standing ovation/one-person wave = EPIC. ABSOLUTELY EPIC. I thought the pinky swear was a nice touch. I mean, she's eight … so it's a big deal! X3 And when I'm writing Tank, the colorful language just flows out. XD

DancingInTheSand: I MISSED YOU! C: Samantha's certainly made everything a little bit more intense! :) And oh gurrrl let me tell you … eight year olds can be the WORST when it comes to mischief … And five year olds … oh my gosh … x.x … Thank you for the review! Enjoy the update my dear!

WickedIntentions: So much fun to write that chapter. I've gotta be honest. It was just action-packed and exploding out of my mind. Samantha has become one of my favorite characters to write … I mean, I love writing all of them (as maybe obvious) … but I especially love her. And Takeo for some reason. XD … Hope you enjoy the update, and it has some effect on your anxiety! (I did a lot of research about blood-loss/tourniquet application … another reason this chapter took so long to finish x.x) … Thanks as always for reviewing! I love you dearest!

Zombiegirl777: I'M SORRRRRRYYY! XD … I can't stop writing! I'm glad you like it, though (even if it is overwhelming). And I can't wait to hear what you have to say about the other chapters! By all means, PLEASE go back and review them, as that would make me squeal with joy and bounce about the apartment! C: I shall eagerly await your words. And weep with joy at your immense kindness, because girl your fic is excellent and to have you praise mine like that … :'D … … I HOPE THIS INSTALLMENT PLEASES YOU!

xxz0eyxx: I LOVE NIKOLAI! He makes me giggle. X3 … I'm glad he makes you giggle, too! And I love the dynamic between Tank and Nikolai … they crack me up! Hopefully Samantha will grow on you … or not. She's pretty bratty. XD Und ze Doctor says: "NEIN! ... GIVE ME MEIN HAT! … I vould threaten you but alas, I am incapashitated at ze moment …"

snakeyeslover2: He is indeed a stubborn, strong, angry man … XD … and Kitty's definitely on the mission to save him. Tank's got some soldierly respect happening after he saw the way the doctor handled himself with that bullet wound … and he's not really sure how to handle it! X3 … I can't wait to keep writing and hear what you have to say! C: Thanks as always!

Quite honestly, I would've stopped a long time ago without your FANTASTIC reviews ... so this is all thanks to you! And I THANK YOU SO MUCH! :)

.

.

.

.

With the doctor on the verge of death, Kitty considers her crimson feelings.

.

.

.

.

Between Dream and Reality
Zwischen Traum und Wirklichkeit

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

Bleeding Heart
Tränendes Herz

The group of us dragged the doctor back through Siegfried, listening to his slurred commands.

"Take me to ze hoshpice," he gasped, his voice weak but still so angry. "I need intravenous insulin."

I hefted Samantha up onto my back. We jogged after the others as they shouldered Richtofen through the halls. The medicine wing wasn't too far away, but he looked terribly gray and sick, far paler than usual. It made my stomach twist to see him like this.

"Any of you know how to set up an IV?" asked Tank, looking tense.

Before anyone could answer, the doctor cleared his throat. "Nein, I vill instruct you," he muttered, his breathing labored. "Fetch ze insulin."

I knew where the room with the medicine was, so I headed that way as quickly as I could.

"Is he going to die?" Samantha asked, breathless, clutching to my neck.

I ignored her. She wanted to cause a stir, and that was the last thing I needed.

The doors seemed incredibly hard to open as I barreled my way into the medicine wing, hearing the others following a few steps behind. I turned down the corridor, pushing through a door. Now I was in the familiar room filled with medical instruments, a row of refrigerators lining the back. I jogged over, readjusting Samantha on my shoulders.

"Pretty," she murmured, looking at all the tiny glass ampules of medicine.

I found the one labeled Insulin, and looked around wide-eyed for an IV. There was a large white structure in the corner that caught my eye. It resembled an icebox, and it was labeled Intravenös. That was good enough for me. I crossed over to it, flipping it open.

Beside my ear, Samantha gasped.

It was filled with sterile, sealed bags. I pulled out a couple, shoving them under my arm. A compartment inside the box itself read Kathetern und Applikatoren, so I opened that, too. It held tubing and strange-looking needles. I grabbed some of everything. Then I snatched up a box of instruments nearby for good measure.

"So many doctor things," commented Samantha, squeezing her arms around my shoulders.

We jogged back down through the hall.

Meanwhile, the others had found an empty bedroom. By the time I returned, Nikolai and Takeo had situated Richtofen on the bed, laying him down. As I scattered my supplies on a medical table, the doctor hissed, his eyes dull. "Cut me out of ze tourniquet," he muttered, slowly writhing toward his leg. He looked anguished.

Takeo flipped open a knife, grabbing the taut strip of fabric. He hooked the blade underneath and sliced through, freeing the doctor's thigh. "Und ze trousers," Richtofen breathed. "Free my leg." Takeo cut through the doctor's pants with the precision of a surgeon, ripping the fabric away from his skin. Now, we could clearly see the entry and exit wounds of the bullet, dark against all the blood.

"Vodka," demanded the doctor.

Nikolai looked affronted. "What?"

"On my leg," Richtofen grumbled, frowning. "Now."

Nikolai grunted, comprehending. He didn't even hesitate. Quickly, he uncapped his bottle and poured a stream over the wound. The doctor howled at the contact, but he held his leg still. Nikolai faltered for a moment. Then he kept pouring until Richtofen spoke again.

"Shtop," he finally gasped. "Gauze."

Takeo went to work wrapping his thigh. Tank leaned over awkwardly to help. Together, they twined a thick layer of gauze over the wound, applying pressure, and the doctor spoke again. "Elevate it," he ordered. They stuffed any cushioning they could find under his leg, lifting it up.

When they were done, Richtofen rolled his pained green eyes over to me.

My heart throbbed. I put Samantha down and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Samantha," I hissed, staring at her. She stared back, her dark blue eyes wide. "I know you don't like Doctor Richtofen, but I need you to sit over there while I help him." Her expression shifted between anger and indifference, but she was silent, walking over to the corner.

I turned back to the doctor.

"Take ze IV und hang it above me," he rasped. "On ze rack."

I glanced over and noticed a metal stand next to the bed, with hooks at the top. I dug through the supplies on the table, fumbling a bag over to the rack. Then I looped it up onto one of the hooks, letting it dangle down.

"Gut," Richtofen murmured. He looked like he was losing consciousness. "Now attach ze pointy end of ze catheter into ze shmall tab on ze bag," he mumbled, still managing to accentuate. "Und squeeze ze fluid through until zhere is no air."

I picked up a tube and stared at it. One end was blunt, the other sharp. I removed the sterile covering and grabbed the bag with a shaking hand, pinching the dangling tab at the bottom. Then, biting my lip, I jabbed the sharp end of the tubing into it. As I stared, nothing happened. My heart stopped and I glanced back at the doctor.

He looked grim.

"Squeeze," he groaned, his eyes squinting shut.

Oh.

I pressed the flexible tubing between my fingers. Sure enough, the liquid in the bag began to drip down, filling up the tube with a row of small bubbles. I squished them down toward the other end, peeling off the cap. Liquid squirted out.

"Takeo," gasped the doctor.

He perked up. "Hai?"

"Ze applicator needle." Richtofen glanced over at the table, to one of the strange-tipped syringes. Takeo noticed them immediately, grabbing one between his fingers. "Insert ze tip into meine hand," he murmured. "Ze top vein."

Takeo pulled off the cap, grabbed the doctor's hand, and, with great delicacy, inserted the needle.

"Wunderbar," breathed Richtofen. "Now press down ze applicator, und remove ze syringe."

Takeo pushed gently on the strange plastic tip, lodging the pointed end in the doctor's skin. Then he slowly removed the needle itself, placing it carefully upon a nearby table. His motions were so measured and cautious. Maybe he should've been a doctor.

"Kazhleen," Richtofen suddenly gasped. He was on the edge now. "Bitte, attach ze catheter."

My hands were still shaking as I stretched the tubing over to him. I grabbed his fingers, pulling his hand close. His skin was cold and clammy, and his fingers twitched against me, trembling. As I examined the tubing, I noticed that the blunt end appeared to fit into the plastic applicator. Quickly, I tried to join them together.

Sure enough, they fastened tight.

I could see the liquid in the IV begin to flow through the applicator, making his vein swell slightly.

The doctor closed his eyes. "In meine deshk," he mumbled, faint. "Shmall box vith medicine. Clear und purple." He took a thick breath. "Inject vith ze insulin."

Takeo was already on it, searching through the drawers. Meanwhile, I broke off the tip of the insulin ampule, dipping a syringe inside. After withdrawing the liquid, I tapped out the bubbles. Then, like I'd seen doctors do on television, I grabbed the IV bag, and injected it through the drum at the bottom.

As the doctor began to lose consciousness, Takeo returned with a small black case of ampules. The medicine was arranged in a bright array of colors. I found a reddish-violet one, the closest color I could see to purple. I pulled it out, looking for a clear vial. Only one was completely transparent, but it had an iridescent sheen. I pulled it out, too, and worked quickly to inject them both.

The doctor's voice shocked us all. "Drei Sunden," he gasped, fighting to stay awake. The whites of his eyes were showing. His face crumpled. "Three hours. Meine leg. Yellow." Then his body tensed suddenly, and he slumped against the bed, exhaling.

"What did he say?" asked Nikolai. "His leg, yellow?"

"I don't know," Tank grumbled, but even he sounded worried. "Maybe he lost too much blood."

I glanced over at the case of medicine from Richtofen's desk. "Takeo," I asked quickly. "Is there a yellow vial in there?"

He nodded, pointing it out. "Perhaps he was speaking of another injection," he suggested.

"I think you're right," I agreed.

"Maybe he needs it in three hours?" asked Tank, raising an eyebrow.

"… In his leg!" finished Nikolai, looking proud of himself.

Nervous, I checked the tubing to make sure the IV was still working. "I guess we let him rest for three hours, then," I mumbled, staring up at the bag.

"Maybe we can eat," grumbled Nikolai, sounding hungry.

"Good idea," Tank muttered. "After all that shit I could eat a fucking horse." He started to make for the door, glancing back at me. I looked back down at the doctor's washed-out face, and I realized I didn't want to leave. My feet felt frozen in place.

Tank could tell.

He sighed. "Hey, Kitty," he murmured. "I'll bring you something back, okay?"

My heart thudded in my chest. I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed him tight. "Thank you," I whispered to his ear, kissing his cheek.

"No problem," he muttered. He sounded like he meant it.

I pulled back to look at him, and he seemed okay. Resigned, maybe, but I couldn't find a trace of anger or hatred in his face. Maybe after watching the doctor book through area fifty-one with a bum leg and bleed out on the floor, he loathed him a little less. I didn't dare imagine he respected him.

Not yet.

He gave me a little nod. "I'll see ya in a bit," he said.

There was another favor I needed. I bit my lip. "Will you take Samantha?" I muttered, hesitant. I didn't want to ask too much out of him, especially since he was being so tolerant of my desire to stay. That was a huge deal.

But as soon as I said it, he walked wordlessly over to the corner where she was sitting. My heart leapt. Samantha was pouting, but as he approached, her expression lifted, and she grinned. "Potty mouth!" she cried. "Are you going to play with me?"

"Sure, kid," he grumbled, and she jumped to her feet.

He backed out of the room, and she skipped after him, delighted.

"Ugh," Nikolai muttered, following them. "Why is she so creepy?"

Once everyone else had left, Takeo looked at me for a long, quiet moment.

As I stood there staring at the doctor, he spoke. "You honor him," he murmured, his voice strangely solemn. "More than he will ever deserve." I turned to meet his eyes. He looked proud, and sad. He gave me a deep bow, then turned to follow the others.

Now I was alone with the unconscious body of Doctor Richtofen.

Trembling, I walked close to his bedside, feeling my heart clench with misery.

His blood stained the white sheets. I noticed that a small patch was seeping through the gauze on his thigh, and my breath hitched. This was just gruesome. I leaned over him, gathering the soiled scraps of his tourniquet and trouser leg. They were damp with his blood, still warm, and I shuddered as I balled them up and walked them over to the sink. I threw them into the basin.

Now my palms were slick and red, sticky with gore.

I rinsed them off, panicked, and suddenly the reality of the situation hit me in full force. I glanced back at him, terrified for his life.

His face was slack against the pillow, making the long angles of his jaw and cheekbones look even sharper. His eyes were closed tight. Unsurprisingly, his lips were frozen in a frown; even angry when he was out cold. The thought was funny, and I hated myself for thinking it at a moment like this.

I edged close to him again. I could tell that he was still breathing, but it was weak and shallow.

My hand shook as I reached out to touch his pale cheek.

His face was warm and clammy, feverish from fighting to stay alive, and maybe even from the medicine. I brushed a lock of hair back from his forehead. It was dark with sweat, but in the light of the room, I could see deep bronze highlights, and a few glittering strands of silver.

"Please don't die," I heard myself whisper. "Please." I leaned over him, pressing my lips between his brows. I could taste the salt of his sweat when I pulled away, bitter on my mouth. My face crumpled, and I kissed him again, fighting the tears that threatened at the back of my eyes.

This was so stupid. My heart was twisted over this man, and all we'd really shared was sex.

But that wasn't true at all.

As my eyes blurred over with tears, my mind sifted through the memories. Richtofen, checking my pulse in Kino, declaring my worthlessness. Richtofen, saving my life. Saving him from his breakdown on the dressing room floor. Our discussions. All of our discussions.

And his hand holding mine when we landed on the moon.

I vant you to be mine, he'd said, that mindblowing night.

And I realized: I wanted that, too.

I combed my fingers through his hair. I kissed his cold lips.

"You can't die on me, Edward," I whispered, my voice soft and fierce. "Not now. Not after all of this." The tears were hot on my cheeks, trickling down my chin, and I stared at him with hard, angry eyes.

Someone knocked on the door.

I wiped the tears off of my face and walked over, opening it.

It was Tank. "Hey," he murmured. "I brought you some of those beans you like."

I tried to smile as I took the can, but it just wasn't happening. "Thanks," I mumbled, downcast.

His arms suddenly slipped around my shoulders, hugging me close. He just held me, tight against his warm body. I collapsed into the hug, managing to balance the can in my hand, wrapping my free arm around his back. "It's all gonna be fine," he rumbled, near my ear.

I gasped, biting back a sob. "Will it?"

"I dunno," Tank murmured. "I kind of believe in happy endings."

My lips spread into a bitter smile. "I hope there's one for all of us," I muttered, pulling back to look at his face.

His blue eyes twinkled at me, and he brushed back a lock of my hair. "I think there will be," he said softly. He gazed into my eyes, strangely serious. "And you know you can count on me, no matter what happens."

"I know," I whispered. We stared at each other for a moment. I know he felt the love there, the companionship; that old familiar feeling, warm as a wool blanket. Here was Tank, so comfortable and safe, offering me an out if the worst came to pass.

I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. Then I hesitated, waiting for something. Waiting for the rush, the surge I felt with the doctor. Tank took my face in both of his hands, so big and warm, and touched his lips to mine for the briefest moment.

"Just remember," he murmured.

And he turned and left.

I watched him leave for a moment.

Then I went back inside, quietly closing the door behind me.

There was chair next to the wall, so I sat on that and ate my beans and wurst. I glanced up at the clock. It worked, thank god. Only half an hour had passed. Still a while to go before the injection. I stirred the food around in the can, finishing it off. Then I glanced over at the doctor.

He was still out cold. Hadn't even moved.

I got up, carrying the chair over to his bedside.

Then I sat back down, placing his hand in mine.

I closed my eyes, and fell asleep.

.

I jerked awake, searching frantically for the clock.

Ten more minutes left. I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and stumbled out of the chair.

The black case was on the medical table, so I opened it, removing the yellow ampule. Then I took a syringe from the table and tore off the sterile cap. This whole process was becoming so familiar that I wondered if I could actually be a nurse.

I broke open the little glass vial, sucked up the medicine, and flicked the bubbles out of the syringe. Three minutes till. Guess the exact minute didn't really matter, right? I moved over to his leg, wincing at the sight of the bandage. A big blot of blood stained the area over his injury.

There was an iodine dropper on the medical table, so I used that to sterilize a spot above the bandage. As I leaned over him, I noticed that his skin seemed warmer, less drained, and his breathing had evened.

I pressed my fingers against his thigh to gain leverage, blushing a little and immediately feeling idiotic.

The man is dying. You're giving him a shot. This is not sexual at all.

Positioning the needle over the little yellow spot of iodine, I slipped it under the doctor's skin. Then I gently depressed the plunger, watching the strange yellow liquid suddenly vanish into his body. My heart throbbed in my chest.

His hand closed around my forearm.

I gasped, staring at his face. He looked at me with glassy eyes. "Zhis is ze last time," he grumbled.

"What do you mean?" I stammered. A rush of emotions flooded through me. Terror, relief, shock.

He blinked slowly, frowning. "I vill not be helpless in your presence again," he hissed, hoarse.

"That's ridiculous," I mumbled.

"Nein," he snapped, his voice frail but fierce. "I vill not. I refuse."

I was quiet, looking down at him with tight eyes. "You're injured. That's not helplessness."

He shook his head, closing his eyes. "Never again."

I sighed, frowning. "You could have died," I muttered.

His eyes opened again, and he looked at me for a moment. "I suppose I could have gone comatose," he mused quietly. "But I knew death vas shtill at least an hour avay."

Of course he did. "What was all that medicine for?" I asked.

"Ze insulin vas for ze safety of my heart," he rasped. "I vill explain later if you vish."

"And the medicine from your desk?" Those were the ones I was most curious about.

He grinned weakly. "My inventions," he muttered. "Zhey shpeed up ze healing process, in various vays."

My eyes narrowed. "I thought your arm healed too fast," I murmured.

"Und you vere correct," he said, the hint of a wicked smile touching his lips. Then it vanished. "You used zhem all, ja?"

I nodded. "The reddish-purple, the clear one, and the yellow, just now."

He looked pleased. "Gut, sehr gut."

"What do they do?" I asked, genuinely interested.

"Ze purple vas meine Knochenmark Droge, a bone marrow shtimulant," he explained. "Und ze clear medicine aids vith healing und circulation. I vas not concerned about my Blutverlust, not vhen everyone vas so responsive to me. Even Dempshey." He paused for a moment in disbelief.

"I'm just glad your leg's looking better," I muttered, glancing back down at it. The skin was definitely a healthier color.

"Ah," he murmured. "Zhat reminds me." He shifted a little in the bed, then frowned. His eyes flicked up to mine and tensed. He hesitated. "Vould you help me to sit?"

I sighed, looping an arm around his back and helping him up against the pillow.

"Danke," he muttered, looking frustrated with himself.

"Look," I said quickly, annoyed. "Just think of me as a nurse, okay? And you're my patient."

His eyes gleamed. "Vhich brings me to my request," he murmured, wincing a little as his leg moved. "I need you to change ze bandage."

I stared at the bloody swatch of gauze, horrified. "Now?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Ja, bitte."

"Um, okay," I muttered, edging down toward his thigh. "How should I do this exactly?"

"Remove ze gauze und replace it," he said, impatient.

I reached out for it, and stopped. "Do I need to disinfect again or anything?"

"Nein," he said dismissively. "Zhat vas vhat ze yellow medicine vas for."

I reached out again, taking the end of the gauze between my fingers. Then, slowly, I unwrapped it, revealing more and more of his skin. When it was finally off, I realized that his wound wasn't bleeding anymore. It looked much better than it had three hours ago.

"Gut, Kazhleen," he purred. "Now take ze fresh bandage und wrap me. Bitte."

I reached over to grab a clean white strip of it, and slowly started to wrap it around his thigh. It was so muscular. Thin and wiry like the rest of him, but still shapely in that glorious, active, manly way. My fingers trembled as I continued to wrap, and I was thoroughly ashamed of myself. He was bloody and convalescing, and I was still eyeing him like a piece of meat.

"Does zhis dishturb you?" he asked, his voice soft.

I shook my head. "No," I muttered. "Not in the way it should." I finished wrapping the bandage, securing the end.

He was staring at me, fascinated. "Even now?" he asked, incredulous.

I was confused. "What do you mean?"

His eyes were measuring me, intrigued. "Laid out in zhis hoshpital bed," he murmured. "Ze look in your eyes as you touched me." He glanced down at my hands, which were still on his thigh, and I blushed. "You feel attraction even vhile I am in zhis shtate?"

"Of course," I hissed, avoiding his eyes. "That's the way it works."

"Zev vay vhat vorks?" he whispered.

I closed my eyes. "I've been really afraid of losing you today," I muttered, trying not to think about it. "Now's probably not the time to talk about this."

He was quiet. "Tell me," he begged.

I took a breath. "Fine," I mumbled. "But I still don't really understand it." My heart throbbed, and I paused for a moment. I could feel his eyes on my face, watching me. "I just … feel really strongly about you," I murmured. "In a lot of ways."

We were both silent. I stared at his knee, and realized I was tracing his hipbone with one of my fingers. I pulled it away fast.

His voice shocked me. "Do you remember back in ze cinema? Ze first time I shpoke to you in ze projector room?"

"Yes," I whispered. I glanced over at his face, meeting his eyes. They were dark.

"It vas ze afternoon of your recovery from undeath," he murmured. "Und ze afternoon in vhich I vanted to kill you."

I shivered.

"Zhat day vas so confusing," he hissed. "I vitnessed Dempshey assaulting you vith his mouth, und felt such rage." He made a noise of bitter amusement. "Und vhen I finally had ze chance to question you, all I vanted to do vas look at you." His eyes flashed, smoldering at me.

I bit my lip, confused. "But you did ask me questions," I muttered. "I was terrified. Especially when you checked the zombie wound."

He took a quick breath. "Und vhat did I tell you? About vhy I saved you?"

I frowned. "Because you were curious about it as a doctor…"

"Nein," he hissed. "I said zhat vas one shmall part of my motivation."

My heart thudded and suddenly, I flashed back to the scene, remembering it perfectly.

"Then what's the rest?" I asked, mystified.

He was very quiet, examining me. "Vhen I find out, I vill tell you."

"Is that a promise?"

He stood from the chair, looking down at me, and his eyes were tense, tormented. He brushed his hair back with a trembling hand, and whispered, "Yes."

I stared into his eyes, and he stared back.

"I feel very strongly for you as vell," he murmured, his eyes softening. "Und have ever since I saved you zhat evening." He sighed. "Of course I did not realize it zhen, but from ze moment you placed yourself into my care as mein Patient …" His breath hitched. "I vas invested."

My heart throbbed. Could that be true? I mean, I definitely hadn't felt the same way, but I suppose that wouldn't have an effect on him.

"I thought you hated me," I muttered.

His eyes tightened and he grinned. "I did as vell."

My chest felt tight. "But… you didn't?"

"Every time I saw you vith zhat… " he cut himself off. "Vith Dempshey," he corrected, his expression souring, "I vas so disgusted. Und I vished to keep you apart. I vould never have guessed zhat it vas jealousy."

His eyes were intense, burning into my soul.

I took a breath. "You weren't," I whispered in disbelief.

He chuckled. "Ja," he growled, staring into my eyes. "I vas."

"But…" I was struggling to comprehend this. "You said I was gross. And manly."

He barked a laugh. "Nein, Liebling," he purred. "I said you vere derogatory. You use such foul language. It is a very masculine quality." He studied my face, his eyes electric. "But in no vay are you manly," he murmured. "In no vay at all."

This didn't make sense. "You … didn't hate me? And you didn't think I was repulsive?"

His eyes were scorching, making my pulse run fast. "I vas not accustomed to feelings, Kazhleen," he said softly. "Und you filled me vith such a multitude."

I realized I'd been inching closer to him this whole time, drawn in by his gaze. He'd been leaning in to me, too. Now we were staring, eye-to-eye, completely engrossed in each other. The pull between us hummed, making me shiver.

"But why?" I whispered. "Because I reminded you…"

"Nein." He closed his eyes, exhaling. "Only in ze sense zhat you could reach me," he said quickly. "Ze vay she could." He fixed me with his gaze again, and it was stormy. "You are ze only ozher person who has made me feel, Kazhleen," he breathed. "Feel as she made me feel."

His nose brushed the tip of mine, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"You're hurt," I muttered.

But that didn't stop him from kissing me.

I pulled away from his warm lips. "You have a blood injury," I gasped, frowning. "Isn't it bad to get riled up?"

He grinned, reaching up to touch my cheek with his IV hand. "I vant to taste your mouth, Kazhleen," he murmured. His voice was sensuous, melting over me like honey. The pad of his thumb stroked along my skin, and he kissed me again, the tip of his tongue tracing my bottom lip.

Again, I pulled away. "How is that not getting riled up?" I asked, flushed.

"Your euphemisms amuse me," he said, smirking. "Do you fear technical terms?"

"No," I said, truthful. "I just grew up in an environment where it was nicer to say things less … technically."

His eyes darkened. "Forget zhat," he murmured, his voice low. His hand slipped down to touch my neck, and I felt his fingers press against my skin. They stroked down my throat, tracing the top of my collar, and his eyes suddenly widened. "Zhis is my shirt," he noted, surprised.

I bit my lip, looking at him through my lashes.

"Shtop looking at me like zhat," he growled, his eyes hooded.

"Why?" I teased. If he was going to play dirty, so was I.

He groaned. "I am trying to prevent ze blood from flowing downward," he hissed.

"Your own fault," I scolded. "I warned you."

His eyes were enticing as he examined my face. "Nein, I believe it is your fault," he murmured.

I shook my head. "I told you not to get riled up."

He grinned wickedly. "Do you mean aroused?"

I blushed. "Of course," I hissed.

"No euphemisms," he reminded me.

"Okay," I mumbled, trying to think of a way to obey the rule but also dampen the mood. "So tell your penis to calm down. You're convalescing."

"I am indeed," he acknowledged, his eyes glinting.

Somehow that didn't seem dampened. "You're dirty," I muttered.

"Zhat should have been obvious vithin ze first moments of my acquaintance," he said, raising an eyebrow.

I sighed. "I can't believe I like you so much," I grumbled.

He slipped his hand around my neck and kissed my mouth. "I vish I vas healed," he murmured, annoyed, tasting my bottom lip. My hand was back on his leg, just above the bandage, helping me balance as I leaned close to him. He deepened the kiss, and I melted into it, overwhelmed. My fingers slipped. In a moment, I was holding on to his inner thigh.

We pulled back, staring at each other, both of us aware of how close my hand was to something else. And, shamefully, I wanted to move that extra inch. His trousers and briefs were cut completely through; it wouldn't be difficult. I could see him measuring my face, trying to see what I might do.

I stretched my hand, and my forefinger stroked against silky, warm skin. His body tensed. We looked into each other's eyes as I slid the tips of my fingers along the length of him, feeling it respond to my touch. His leg muscles clenched under my arm, and he hissed in pain. I jerked my hand away.

"Involuntary muscle contractions," he muttered, wincing. I felt terrible, and he could see it in my face. To my surprise, he grinned. "I never told you to shtop," he murmured.

"I know," I grumbled. "But I should've controlled myself."

He chuckled. "I disagree."

I sighed. "Speaking of things I can't control…" The conniving, mischievous face of a certain little girl flashed through my mind. "If you don't need me to stay, I better go relieve Tank of Samantha duty." The thought itself was exhausting.

He mused for a moment, his eyes glinting. "Do I need you to shtay? Nein." He watched my face. "But vanting is anozher matter entirely."

I wanted to stay, too. But I felt like that was selfish. "I'm gonna go," I muttered, scooting the chair back and getting up. He frowned at me. I rolled my eyes. "Clearly I'm a danger to you anyway," I teased. Then I sobered up. "Besides, Tank was really nice. He agreed to watch her so I could stay with you."

The doctor grunted. "Again vith Dempshey," he grumbled.

I stretched my legs, walking over to the sink to wash the blood off my hands. "I'll be back later," I said reassuringly, drying my palms on my pants. Then I walked back over to his bedside, grinning down at him. "I kind of like being taller for once. Now I can loom over you."

His eyes narrowed. "I despise it," he snarled.

I kissed him on his angry forehead.

"Get better," I demanded.

And then I headed for the door.

.

.

.

.

.

.

German: Intravenös (intravenous); Kathetern und Applikatoren (catheters and applicators); Drei Sunden (three hours); Gut, sehr gut (good, very good); Knochenmark Droge (marrow drug); Blutverlust (blood loss); Nein, Liebling (no, darling).

...

...

BLAHHHHHHHH FOUR MORE CHAPTERS LEFT ...

... I can't believe I'm almost done with this story ... !

Tell me what you're thinking ...:D

Top three favorite moments in the story? Best quotes? Surprises? Expectations for the ending?

Your words help me know how to keep writing to make you guys happy (and that's what I want to do)!

Comments, questions, suggestions? Tell me!
ZE DOCTOR VILL LISTEN TO ALL ZE GLORIOUS WORDS...!

Ze Doctor Says: "If you do not review, I vill SHTAB YOU! ... as soon as I can shtand ... ... ... "