Max's hands trembled as she scanned the bare hospital room. She felt an emptiness inside of her that was only accented by the emptiness of her own surroundings. Where was Logan?
A young male nurse entered the room dressed in pale green scrubs, whistling a tune Max didn't recognize. He noticed that Max was awake and smiled. "Good morning, Miss Cale."
"That's Mrs. Cale," Max corrected him. "Where's Logan?"
"Mrs. Cale, you're very sick. The doctor doesn't think it's safe for you to see anyone just yet," he said, checking her IV.
"Bull shit," she replied. "Where's my husband?"
"Don't get excited," the nurse said sternly.
Max scowled and tried to rise up in the bed to give him a peice of her mind. Pains shot throughout her body and she screamed in agony. Almost immediately after her painful cry she heard someone in the hall struggling with someone else, and Logan burst into the room, straightening his shirt after fighting his way into the room.
"Max!" he exclaimed, his heart full of love. He felt like he was going to burst. "I was so worried." He buried his head in her chest, but Max pushed him off violently.
"What's wrong with me? Why can't I move without feeling like someone's stabbing me a hundred times in a couple of seconds?" Max asked, looking at the nurse, then Logan. A doctor entered.
"You were shot, Max. You were alone, Jace said she lost you in the mist of the chaos, and someone saw you and just started firing. The bullet hit you just below your stomach," Logan explained.
Max swallowed hard, the reality of the situation slapping her in the face. She frantically opened up her hospital gown and ran her hand over her stomach, outlining stitches and dry blood. She looked at Logan with fear, and the bullet penetrating her skin flooded her thoughts. She remembered lying on the cold tile of the building, she remembered Logan crying out and calling for help, and she remembered the blood. There had been so much of it. Too much.
Then she remembered the paramedic telling Logan there was nothing they could do. The baby was gone, and Max was getting very close. And, she remembered seeing Logan cry. But it was all blurry, like it had happened to someone else. Or like she'd dreamt it up. A nightmare she was forced to live.
"You're alive," the doctor said. "And that's the most important thing."
"I can't go," she said, watching a little boy walk with his parents, who looked a bit older than Logan. Max smiled, realizing she and Logan would be doing the same thing near this time next year.
"It's not an option, soldier," he told her standing. "You'll report for duty tomorrow morning before day break."
"We can start over, Max. We have plenty of time to have kids," Logan was saying, but Max's head was spinning.
A young male nurse entered the room dressed in pale green scrubs, whistling a tune Max didn't recognize. He noticed that Max was awake and smiled. "Good morning, Miss Cale."
"That's Mrs. Cale," Max corrected him. "Where's Logan?"
"Mrs. Cale, you're very sick. The doctor doesn't think it's safe for you to see anyone just yet," he said, checking her IV.
"Bull shit," she replied. "Where's my husband?"
"Don't get excited," the nurse said sternly.
Max scowled and tried to rise up in the bed to give him a peice of her mind. Pains shot throughout her body and she screamed in agony. Almost immediately after her painful cry she heard someone in the hall struggling with someone else, and Logan burst into the room, straightening his shirt after fighting his way into the room.
"Max!" he exclaimed, his heart full of love. He felt like he was going to burst. "I was so worried." He buried his head in her chest, but Max pushed him off violently.
"What's wrong with me? Why can't I move without feeling like someone's stabbing me a hundred times in a couple of seconds?" Max asked, looking at the nurse, then Logan. A doctor entered.
"You were shot, Max. You were alone, Jace said she lost you in the mist of the chaos, and someone saw you and just started firing. The bullet hit you just below your stomach," Logan explained.
Max swallowed hard, the reality of the situation slapping her in the face. She frantically opened up her hospital gown and ran her hand over her stomach, outlining stitches and dry blood. She looked at Logan with fear, and the bullet penetrating her skin flooded her thoughts. She remembered lying on the cold tile of the building, she remembered Logan crying out and calling for help, and she remembered the blood. There had been so much of it. Too much.
Then she remembered the paramedic telling Logan there was nothing they could do. The baby was gone, and Max was getting very close. And, she remembered seeing Logan cry. But it was all blurry, like it had happened to someone else. Or like she'd dreamt it up. A nightmare she was forced to live.
"You're alive," the doctor said. "And that's the most important thing."
"I can't go," she said, watching a little boy walk with his parents, who looked a bit older than Logan. Max smiled, realizing she and Logan would be doing the same thing near this time next year.
"It's not an option, soldier," he told her standing. "You'll report for duty tomorrow morning before day break."
"We can start over, Max. We have plenty of time to have kids," Logan was saying, but Max's head was spinning.
