The room was dark when she opened her eyes. Machines beside the bed beeped at different intervals, monitoring her vital statistics. She looked toward them for a second before looking up at the shadows on the ceiling. The door was partially open, and as she listened, the sounds of the hospital drifted towards her.
She wondered if her partner feels guilty for opening the door for her. And she hoped he didn't. This was hardly his fault. They were ambushed, and all because of two mixed up numbers on a memo. None of them could have stopped what happened. They hadn't even expected it. She shifted slightly, uncomfortable, and wondered what had become of the others. She didn't get a chance to see if they were all right before going unconscious herself.
The sound of the door creaking further open caught her attention and unable to move her head, she moved her eyes. And there in the doorway was Felton, in a wheelchair, looking anxious and worn. He wheeled himself towards the bed, slowly, and stopped just short of it.
He talked to her for a while; she answered him as best she could, still feeling achy and exhausted. After a few minutes, he fell silent and took her hand in his own, just sitting there.
And there in the dark, they wait, together, anxious to get back to their jobs and to the city they love.
A/N: Yay! I've finally broken one hundred! And H:LOTS isn't mine, but I'm on a kick because I'm finally getting seasons one and two sometime this week, so bear with me, people...