A/N the "Casablanca" ending. The one that I wanted to write, but then the whole idea of Garret being dead got in the way. There is the Bubblegum ending as well on it's way when I get back from dinner. Then more of Watchdog, I promise!

He felt as if he were floating, as if he wasn't in contact with his body. He grinned, Nigel would love to hear about this, him, the king of all skeptics having what he assumed to be an out-of-body experience. But then it hit him that he would never talk to Nigel again, that he would never complain about the lanky Brit and the way he would constantly go off on tangents about the supernatural.

He was gone, he had to be, no one that was alive would be floating through a hospital. He could see himself, lying there on the table, all sorts of tube hanging off of him. A ventilator, that was never a good sign, IV's, doctors all around. He couldn't get close enough to see the heart monitor, but he knew what it would be reading. He was gone, he had to be.

And he had done it all for her. He had given up his life for her, willingly. Something that suburban prince would not do. He knew that the boy wonder would never take a bullet for her. He had, he had given his life for her, it wasn't his intention, he had only meant to knock her out of the way, he had only meant to shove her out of the path of the bullet, but he didn't regret it for a second.

He saw her there, standing back, letting the doctors work, a shocked look on her face, looking as if someone had just sucked her soul right out of her. Two men in her life, the two men that she trusted most had left her, and it gave him a horrible feeling. He had left her when she needed him most.

But if it came down to it having to be him or her, he would do it all over again, she had so much more to live for. She was still young, she had someone else to love her, she deserved to live more than he did, he already had lived most of what he wanted to. Sailing the Bahamas may have been something he never got to do, but he had loved, and lost, he had a child, he had a good job, he was happy with his job, he had his friends, he had been content with his life, he had lived a good life. She still had so much more life ahead of her.

He would take a bullet for anyone in the mourge, but she was the one it had come down to. She was the one that he had done it for. She was the one that he gave up his life willingly for. And she looked so lost, so broken, so shattered, the ballast to her ship at sea had all been let out, and she was tipping over, not just capsizing but completely turtling, in for a long, slow, recovery.

He wanted to comfort her, tell her that she still had people who loved her, that he wasn't the only one that loved her, that if Woody could see through his goddamn pride that he did too, that Nigel, and Bug, and Lilly all considered her family, that she wasn't alone in the world, that he wasn't the last one she had left.

But he couldn't. And she just stood there, leaning against the wall, watching him. He saw the others appear, Bug, Nigel, Lilly, Sydney, they all poured in, each one looking grave and grim. She hugged each one of them, and the five of them stood there, all watching, all with the same tense, unknowing look.

He saw the other one appear, the man that had started all this. The man who if he had abandoned his pride would have stopped all this. She would have spent her night at his bedside, and she would have never run off, and he would have never had to have followed her, and everything would be good. But no, here was the detective, wheeling himself down to stay with them.

He would have gloated to see her shrug off his touch, to move as far away from his as possible, but she needed him now, she needed someone to turn to and the suburban prince was just that, the man that she needed, the person she could turn to. He had to give the young man some credit, he did look genuinely concerned.

He was surprised to see her grin, along with the five others around her, and he felt something pulling on him, as if he was being yanked down to the table forcefully by the waist. Maybe he would get to tell Nigel about his out of body expierence after all, maybe the boy was on to something when it came to the supernatural. He just knew that he wouldn't be quite the total skeptic anymore and at least listen to what the boy had to say.

The next thing he knew, he found himself face up on a hospital bed, still with tubes coming out of him, he felt the IV pumping liquid through him, and there was the crowd around him. He saw her face looking down at him, relief written all over her. "hey." She said simply, and he couldn't speak, there was a tube down his throat to help him breathe.

A doctor appeared, pushing his way through. "Ah, Dr. Macy, you're supposed to be taking our patients away, not being one. You lost a lot of blood, but don't worry, we found most of it." He saw the faces around him contort at the young man's poor taste in jokes. "You'll be up and at em again in no time, don't worry, your most serious injury was your blood loss and a punctured lung, but aside from that, you got lucky. For someone who got shot three times, you'll be out by the end of the week. However, I am going to have to order some of these people out, one in here at a time, the man needs to rest. And I can take out that ET tube now that you're awake. Just cough for me."

He obliged and felt the piece of plastic come through his vocal chords, back out of his throat again. "Right, well, I'll be off, you guys take turns." The doctor left, and the crowd around him exchanged glances before five left with well wishes, leaving him alone with her.

Had she meant it? The last thing he had heard was her saying that she did, that she did love him, that what he had told her hadn't been entirely for naught. She leaned against the back of the chair, looking entirely spent. "You should sleep." He croaked, his throat raw from the tube, his chest hurting from where the bullet had pierced. She laughed, almost bitterly.

"So should you." She told him and he grinned.

"I have a feeling I'm going to be kept up." She laughed, this time with humor in it, such a welcome sound from the shrill laugh that would haunt his nightmares.

"We're all just making sure you're OK." He shrugged, wincing at the gesture.

"Aside from being shot, I'm not doing too bad, I don't think." She looked at him with an almost sad look.

"Did you mean that, what you said in there?" She asked him, and he met her golden eyes with his own brown ones and nodded.

"Not the best way to say it." He tried to make light of the situation.

"You did that-" she gently kissed one of the wounds, "For me?" Again, he nodded. "But you, you always try to find me dates-"

"Self-preservation."He told her with a shrug. "If you're happy with them, that's what matters." They lapsed into silence. "How's Woody? I saw him down here." She shrugged.

"He's still unsure about how he'll do." She seemed put off.

"Do you love him?" He asked and she looked at him, uncertainty in her eyes. He knew what she needed to make him happy, and he knew it wasn't him. She nodded.

"But-" He cut her off.

"He loves you, even if he lets his own pride get in the way, he does, as much as I don't want to admit it, he does." She smiled softly, sadly at him.

"But what about you, I mean, I do care about you, I-" He cut her off again, not wanting to hear what she had to say, he knew what it would be.

"I know you care, but I've never seen you happier than with Woody, I may not like doing it, but you belong with him."

"But you nearly died for me." He grinned as if it was nothing.

"He would do the same. And I would do it for Nigel, or Bug, or Lilly, or even Sydney. You're special, but not that special." She laughed and looked at the window where the aforementioned people were crowding.

"And I think they want to see you. But Garret-" She looked at him, whiskey eyes meeting chocolate. "I do love you." He grinned as she slid out of the room, allowing Lilly in. She loved him, that's what mattered, not if she loved Woody more, but he knew that she loved him as well.