Over My Dead Body
Part II
Author's Note: As you know, this was going to be (and now is) a three-parter. Here's the infamous second part.
I nearly jogged down the halls of the bright hospital, thoughts running rampantly through my mind. Images from the past few hours floated to the surface from the depths of memory, pleading to be reviewed and analyzed. I knew that I had to save those for later. Now I had something more urgent to attend to.
For some reason, I knew this section of the hospital like…well, like the back of my hand. Why? Only morbid answers supplied themselves.
I saw the end of the hallway just ahead, a wall leading both to the left and the right. Nick's around that corner, my brain reminded me.
I involuntarily slowed down slightly as I came to the corner. This is it, I told myself in an attempt to prepare in some way. I took a deep breath and strode around the corner.
I saw Warrick and Catherine a few more feet down the hallway, peering grimly through a window into a hospital room. I tried to catch their other emotions but identification proved elusive.
I moved to stand beside them, my presence attaining a gaze and an unreadable expression from the two. I turned my attention to the window that lent sight into Nick's hospital room. My heart turned.
He was either sleeping or purposely unconscious; I couldn't tell. Tubes connected him to an IV and a machine beeped nearby. The sight of him connected to technology upset me for some reason.
He was pale and the red of the bug bites stood out from the white of his features. The thing that struck me the most was the fact that his expression wasn't peaceful.
I remembered once he had pulled a double shift and was stuck waiting for lab results. I had walked into his office to talk to him and found him sound asleep on his desk. I had been shocked by the angelic, almost boyish expression on his face. Now that expression was gone, replaced by one of anguish and pain.
"How is he?" I asked, my voice sounding old and unused.
"Physically, the doctors say that he's going to be okay," Catherine answered, her voice lacking all the emotion that usually fueled her words. She didn't say the next inevitable line. She didn't have to. My mind supplied it.
Mentally, who knows if he'll be alright. A shudder raced down my spine. What a scary thought.
Now that I pondered it, this was the idea that had been plaguing me all along. A projection presented itself in my mind. It showed a mentally and emotionally disturbed friend. A lost friend. I feared that the Nick that I knew and had grown to respect would be replaced by some psychopathic stranger.
"When is he waking up?" I inquired, for I yearned to know despite my fear of his possible mental transformation.
"Not for at least a few hours," a weary Warrick replied, never moving his eyes from Nick. I nodded slowly, my internal clock starting a countdown to the moment of revelation.
Just a few more hours of waiting, I told myself. I can make it that long.
I took one last look at the lifeless form of Nick before nodding a farewell to my colleagues. I had to get back to work. I had to consume myself with it until I could return. I had to push this all to the back of my mind for a while.
I felt like I couldn't absorb it all. I had to analyze it later. Now I had to work.
Turning from the scene, I stalked back down the hospital corridor. I was looking forward to the stack of paperwork that awaited me in my office.
