Dis-claimer: Dis claim, dis one 'ere? Ain't mine al'righ'? Respc'

Back to Elizabeth. These next two chapters have internal exploration of feelings a bit and some set up stuff. I am trying to avoid being repetitive but if I am, tell me.

I don't know how long a bullet wound would take to do serious damage, but Elizabeth's a fighter so she's bearing up well.

Thanks to all my readers and reviewers-you are the reason I go on (that and breathing and stuff)

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'I said sit down!'

Elizabeth was ignoring Martin. It was hard to ignore a man with a gun but she was doing it.

She felt light-headed, as if her body was disconnected from her brain. She knew it was from the loss of blood. Soon after Martin had closed the door on Romano, she had grasped the side of the bed and hauled herself up.

Martin had asked her what she was doing and she had explained, as calmly and quietly as if she was explaining it to a student, about her wound, about Jane Graham and her condition, about how she needed to help herself and them or he would have more deaths on his hands.

It was as if her doctor's brain was working independently from her human brain which was screaming at her in pain and fear. At the front of her mind was Ella, her precious baby, her little girl. How could she grow up as an orphan? Where would she go, who would take care of her?

'Shut up Elizabeth,' she had told herself, 'that's no way to think. You're going to be fine, you're going to live and nothing will happen.'

He had let her work on the Graham girl. There was not much she could do. Jane was getting worse by the minute, drifting in and out of conciousness. Her body was beginning to shut down. Elizabeth didn't have everything she needed to help and her own pain was making her hands shake and her mind blur.

Martin paced back forth across the room. His wife was still crouched on the floor, numbed and quiet.

And as for herself? She had patched herself up as best she could, stopped the bleeding, knowing she needing to be alert and knowing just as clearly that she herself was going to need surgery and soon. Now Martin had become frustrated again. His image as a normal businessman was shredded and his jacket and tie lay strewn on a chair, his shirt damp with sweat. Never, ever judge a book…

'That's enough doc,' he said.

'Its Dr Corday if you don't mind,' she said icily, 'and its enough when I say. Did you go to medical school?'

Martin said nothing but snorted, then sat down and rubbed his head. Elizabeth finished as best she could on Jane.

'Is she going to die?' whispered Mrs Graham, feverishly.

Elizabeth swallowed and resorted to telling half-truths.

'I'm doing everything I can,' she said, softly, 'but she will need extra help. She needs surgery.'

She said the last bit loudly, so Martin could hear. But he did not move. Still working in doctor mode, she moved to the woman sitting on the floor.

'What's your name?' she asked.

'Sarah,' said the woman, 'he's Martin.'

She looked at her husband. Elizabeth nodded.

'Are you hurt?' she asked.

Sarah shook her head, then looked at Elizabeth.

'No. But Jack-'

'I'm afraid there really is nothing I can do,' said Elizabeth, 'he was killed instantly, I doubt he felt anything.'

The woman's eyes teared up again.

'Don't cry for him Sarah!'

It was Martin, finally paying attention.

'He's deserved it. My best friend, my wife...God what a cliche,'

He spoke in a level, unemotional voice, but then seemed to brighten up.

'We'll be happy again, I promise,' he said, as if telling the family they were going to get the widescreen television that summer.

Elizabeth had sat down on the floor next to Sarah, trying to crush the pain in her side, which was becoming overwhelming.

She had tried to gather her thoughts. Her mind jumped back to what had happened earlier. Martin had seen someone coming down the hallway and yanked open the door.

Then she had heard his voice. She had never been so happy to hear him. She used to dread hearing it. Now, even before all this, she had not found it so bad. She had seen chinks through his armour and he, for whatever reason was letting her.

She couldn't hear what he had said, just his tone-calm, defiant, worried. A voice in her brain had been shouting for help. 'Help me Robert! Please, help me!'

The blast of the shot had rung through her brain and she had immediately moved forward, stopped short by the pain in her stomach.

If you've hurt him...

She didn't know if he had been hit. The police would be coming. Two surgeons down? The hospital barely had enough left.

'Just how long do you intend on keeping us here Martin?' she heard herself ask suddenly, trying to ignore the shooting pain in her side.

Martin stood up suddenly and stalked over to his wife.

'Its up to her how long we stay. If she says she loves me, we go.'

Sarah looked up wide-eyed. As easy as that?

'I love you!' said Sarah, chokingly.

'You don't mean it!' screamed Martin and went back to the door.

'You can't keep us in here forever!' cried Sarah.

'Who has the gun here Sarah? Hm? It's not Jack that's for sure though he did take everything else from me. I'll decide. I'm a manager, I'm good at that. I decide who goes and stays and when.'

'They know we're in here and they'll have the police,' said Elizabeth, holding her head, 'you can keep us in here, that's fine. But the little girl needs treatment. She needs a transplant or she will die!'

Mrs Graham let out a gulping sob and Elizabeth regretted her words. But she had to let him know, make him understand.

'I repeat, doc, who has THE GUN!' shouted Martin.

Then, the phone rang.