Onward to the warm fuzzies. By the way, if anyone is reading this at all, please leave feedback!
Neela awoke in stiff sheets and metal bars. It took her a moment to realize where she was, but with that realization the memories of everything that had happened only an hour ago shot through her mind in rapid fire. She groaned and tried to sit up, but strong hands prevented her. "Stay still," a gentle voice commanded, and she obeyed because it was more comfortable to lay there in a daze and not think about what had happened. Eventually, though, curiosity got the better of her, and she turned her head to see the man attached to the hand that lay calmly on her arm.
"Dr. Kovac?" she asked groggily. Her vision was a bit blurry from sleep, but was clearing up.
"How are you feeling?" came the response.
"Tired… I don't know." She could remember everything that had happened, but she felt detached from it. She saw everything happening in her mind, but it was like something that had happened long ago.
Luca took hold of her hand. "They told me everything. What you did-… Why did you do that?" His voice was strained and his eyes were weary with stress.
"I looked so much like her. I thought he wouldn't hurt me that badly." Her eyes, which had been darting back and forth, focused on her lap. "I was afraid he would kill you."
"He killed his wife," Luca answered, the intensity in his voice rising. "He would've killed you if you hadn't-" Here he stopped, unable to continue. He let go of her hand and rested his forehead on both of his. I she had been killed because of him, he would never have been able to forgive himself. He had never really paid any attention to her, but at the moment, he was convinced she was either Mother Teresa or completely insane.
"I didn't think he would hurt me," she repeated, and she seemed to genuinely believe it. A few tears escaped her eyes as the fear she had felt crept up on her and the shock began to wear off. Seeing her tears, he took her hand again in both of his.
"I'm sorry." His concern for her was growing now. "Has the hospital sent anyone up for you to talk to? A psych consul?"
"Not yet, but I have a feeling they will," she replied with annoyance. She just wanted to go home and sleep forever, but she had let Abby persuade her to let herself be admitted. Tomorrow she would have to give her statement to the police, and she really didn't feel like reliving once, let alone twice.
"You should talk to someone," he replied.
"I'm talking to you."
Luca didn't know how to respond to that. He wasn't sure he wanted that responsibility. He wasn't fit to help her in any way, and he told her as much. "Neela, I'm not the person to talk to."
"Well I don't want to talk to anyone," she answered angrily, "But everyone seems to think that I should." She began to shake, and he clasped her hand more firmly.
"You're cold," he said, taking off his sweater and draping it over her. He felt fiercely protective of her, obligated to her even. She was so young and timid, and had done something so brave and strong.
"Thank you," she said softly. Her next move surprised him. She rose up and placed her arms around his neck. After a beat, he returned the embrace, wrapping his arms around her waist, the sweater trapped between them. Then, as quickly as she had come forward, she drew back, laying against the pillows. "I'm sorry. I'm just… scared, I think."
He didn't respond; instead he took her hand again and waited until she fell asleep.