A/N: This chapter is really the reason updates have taken so long. I hate these kinds of chapters in stories; feel free to skip over it. I'm not so good at dramatic effect, but there has to be a transition period between the actual accident and whatever comes next, so here's the transition. I tried to write this stupid thing five or six times, and then I gave up and just pulled a one-shot copout. -Shrugs- I was fed up.

Disclaimer: Nope. Still don't own it. I'm tired of saying that.

Second Shot

III

Terry Lake hated hospitals. She'd hated them ever since she'd had to visit her dying grandmother in one at the age of eight. Ever since that day, she stayed away from them to the best of her abilities, which she considered to be pretty good, thankyouverymuch.

Of all the things she remembered about the night she'd spent at Grandma's bedside, the stink was the most memorable. Terry really hated hospital smells. She really did. The smell of illness, the sterilized smell of floor polish and wax, and the implacable stench of death…all of them sent her back through memories she'd rather have erased.

That smell was what first brought her back to her senses. The blinding pain wasn't far behind, though. An explosive feeling in the right side of her body told her that she was probably still alive. Unless this place was someone's very cruel idea of hell.

She forced her eyes open, taking in the pockmarked look of the ceiling tiles above her. Drawing in a deep experimental breath, she winced. Oh, yeah, she was definitely still alive.

"Good morning, Sunshine." A matronly nurse shoved her pudgy, sweet face into Terry's line of vision. "Nice to see you awake. Would you like anything?"

After a moment's hesitation, Terry shook her blonde head, slowly, carefully, as though afraid of the consequences.

"Okay, sweets. We'll put you back to sleep then." And, with that, the nurse hailed a doctor from the hall. Within minutes, a fresh round of powerful drugs was coursing through her system. Despite her dislike of hospitals, she found that the relief from pain was something she could definitely live with.

By the time she awoke again, there was no sunshine. Well, maybe there was…she just couldn't see it for the thick layer of weeping clouds. She heaved a slight sigh.

"Hey, there." The words were soft and welcoming. "Nice to see you, Lake."

"David?" She mumbled. Her throat was dry, her head hurt, and there was nothing like waking up in a sterilized bed to throw and already unhappy mood to rock bottom.

"Yeah, it's me. Can I get you anything?" He asked softly.

"Water?" She croaked out, knowing she must look like one of those stupid horror-movie patients.

"Of course." He rose immediately and crossed the tiled floor to a refrigerator by the door. He opened the little door, pulled out a bottle of water, and emptied the contents into a cup. Returning to her bedside with a cellophane-wrapped straw, he opened the little package, dropped the straw into the cup, and bent it so it was near her lips. He held the cup carefully in his right hand, his left cupped the back of her head, lifting it tenderly from the pillow and holding it upright so the water would flow smoothly down her throat.

When she gave him a nod, indicating she'd had her fill, he lowered her back to the pillow, set the cup aside, and sat down next to her. "How are you feeling?"

A sarcastic retort formed on her tongue, which was feeling much better now that it didn't have to try to talk around what had felt like a mouthful of cotton balls, but the sincerity and warmth in her colleague's eyes stopped her. "I'm better." She replied instead, thinking back to that fuzzy day right after the incident. The pain was definitely less this time around.

"Great." David said, a smile spreading across his face. He opened his mouth to continue, but the door cracked open, emitting Dr. Mikels, who was carrying a tray of food.

"I brought you some—Agent, you're awake!" He said, nearly dropping the tray in his shock. He opted, instead, to set it on the counter next to the door and hurry to her. "How are you feeling?"

"Better." She replied.

Certain that Terry was in good hands, David excused himself to make some phone calls, and she resigned herself to the examination that Dr Mikels promised would be "pain-free."

He poked and prodded her for nearly an hour before stepping back. "Move your right arm for me."

Her response was a death glare, but he was unfazed, standing at the counter and gazing evenly at her.

"Whenever you're ready, Agent." He said firmly, but her glare only deepened.

He sighed. "We have to see how extensive the damage is. Please try. Roll your shoulder first. That won't be as bad."

Heaving a silent sigh, she braced herself and did as he asked. "Damn it!" She cursed reflexively.

"Okay, that's not quite the response I was hoping for. I don't think we'll try your arm today." He said bracingly.

She gave him the best glare she could muster under the circumstances and tried to force her lungs to breathe shallowly and evenly, hoping to relieve the blinding pressure she still felt on her chest.

"Okay, I've got enough information for now. You can relax…get some more sleep."

"Charlie?" She whispered, remembering the shot that had sent her running into the fray. She couldn't remember anything after the second shot, the one that had landed her here, and she couldn't remember if Charlie had been okay.

"Everyone on your team came through just fine. You're a tough group. Go to sleep now." He commanded.

She didn't want to. She wanted to see Don; she wouldn't be able to sleep until she did. She tried to tell Dr. Mikels so, but it was too much effort to talk. Maybe if she just closed her eyes, just for a second, she'd be well-rested when Don got there. She hoped so. With that thought in mind, she let her eyes slide closed.

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Don sat in a gaudy flowered chair next to his colleague's bed in the ICU and tried to read a book, but the words blurred together and ran off until he couldn't read them. He'd been there for almost eighteen hours, but she'd fallen asleep before he'd arrived and she hadn't woken again.

He flipped through the channels on the TV next, but not even the ballgame could hold his interest. He sighed again and settled back to gaze out the window at the driving rain. Nothing could make him concentrate on anything but her.

It was a miracle that she'd woken so soon. The doctor had called it unexplainable, and he'd told Don that if her recovery continued to go so well, not only would she live, they might be able to restore use to her right arm. As it was, there was little chance she'd ever have complete control of it again.

He knew that that news would crush her. Terry loved her job, and without use of her gun arm, she wouldn't be able to work in the field anymore.

He pushed that thought out of his mind. Right now, he just wanted to know that she'd live.

"Wake up, Terry." He commanded softly. He studied her face in the florescent lighting. She was so pale, though much more color had returned to her cheeks now. Just under two weeks (eleven days, to be precise) had passed since that day, and Don was grateful that everything had gone so well, despite what uncertainty lay in front of them.

Seeing that his words had been to no effect, he settled back into the chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and resigned himself to waiting again. With another sigh, he picked up the remote and aimed it at the TV. Before he could turn it on, though, a gentle sigh from Terry's still form drew his attention. As he watched, breath held, she stirred and slowly opened her eyes again, blinking at the ceiling before sliding to him.

"Hi, Terry." He said softly, reaching to catch her left hand in his.

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So there you have it. As I said, I'm not so good at this kind of thing. My apologies. :-P

Next update: Next Friday. Once a week, as per my finally-put-into-motion New Year's Resolutions.

So, on that happy note, I'll leave you with a quick little preview:

Second Shot IV:

"Terry, we need to talk."

She glanced up, her dark eyes expectant, "Sure. What's up?"

He sank into the chair next to her bed, and she closed the book clumsily with her left hand and set it aside.

"The doctors…" He began, then trailed off. No, that sounded stupid. How was he going to break this to her! "Terry, your…there's a problem with your shoulder."

"I'm aware of that, Don. That's kind of why I'm here." She said, studying him. "What's going on?"

"No, I mean there's really a problem. It's not healing right." He said gently.

I know, sucky little preview, but you got a good one for LMLMN. I can't give everything away. That would ruin all my fun.

See you Friday!

All my love,

Sila