Things were kind of weird after Christmas. It settled down eventually, but there were a few weeks there that were filled with more awkward silences between me and Scott more than any talking or even grunting for that matter. Rachel didn't understand why we were so weirded out. We got drunk and had some fun. What was more natural than that? Sometimes I wondered about Rach, I really did. Scott and I tried to talk about it once and ended up doing little more than stuttering and stammering out things that made no sense. In the end, we silently agreed to pretend it never happened. If we didn't, then I didn't know if we could continue to live together anymore. And that would be the worst thing that could possibly happen.

Business stayed on the slow side too. We were just making enough to pay the "permit" fees to the cops and a few extras like food. I wasn't complaining though. We had a big wad saved from the other cars we had done and the Escalade was going to bring in another bundle. Speaking of that beast, I did manage to get the Escalade finished up before the new owner came to take it. And no, Scott didn't help a bit. He pointed and laughed a few times, so he knew I was working on it. And he could have at least helped me tape the car up, but no, he just rattled around with our old service truck and made my poor, sweet Lucy wait for Mama's attention. I was on that Escalade until I was ready to drop, but I got it all done in barely two days. And then I could turn all of my attention onto Lucy.

I knew I should have been careful about what I was spending on her since there wasn't any sign of business picking up soon, but she needed so much TLC. Scott didn't complain either, so I took silence for permission. Of course we weren't saying much of anything to each other right then, but that wasn't the point. I had a lot of work to do. And Scott was nice enough to take care of all of the small work so that I would be free with Lucy. He offered advice when I asked, but other than that, he left me completely alone with my sweet baby. Lucy was the reason Scott and I started really talking again. I would work until dinner, and then we would talk ideas while we ate. I was going to bed early, so I could get up as soon as the sun rose and get to work. I know it's wrong when a car is your reason for getting up in the morning, but I was putting my heart and soul into it. Rachel came over a couple of times to see how Lucy was coming along and then to drag me out from under the car.

"You're turning into him" she complained. "Work, work and more work. You do like to have fun and I'm not going to let you forget that."

"I'm not forgetting that" I said, pressing close to her. "But I just want to have Lucy ready to hit the scene as soon as possible."

"Yeah, but I'm ready to hit it now" she said with a pout. "C'mon sweetie" she said, teasing my lips with hers. "You've been with that car for three weeks solid and not once with me. I'm starting to wonder if you and Scott took my advice but didn't tell me."

Had it been three weeks? I honestly hadn't noticed. "Nothing is happening with us" I reassured her. "You're still my girl. Always, baby. I just can't wait to take you out in Lucy and really show off."

She smiled up at me flirtatiously. "There's plenty of time to get your car ready. You still haven't gotten your new tattoo and that's what I want to show off."

I smiled. "Okay. A few drinks for courage and then we get it done." Hey, I did want the tattoo. I had been eyeing these silver techno pants at this store. They rode real low on the hips. I could see myself in them with a shirt that showed off my other tattoo, getting out of Lucy at a party. Now that would make an impression. Lucy. I swear, the brain was stuck non-stop on Lucy. I looked at Rachel's smile and sparkling eyes promising me some good times and decided Lucy wouldn't mind waiting one more day.

"And then I get to show you off, right" Rachel pressed.

I laughed. "You have got the biggest one-track mind."

"Maybe, but you like where it's going."

She had a point. I let Scott know I was going out and got cleaned up. Rachel made a point of going out to the garage and telling Scott that she was wearing some of the new underwear I had given her. He flushed red at that, and walked away when Rachel pointed out that since he had seen it, wouldn't he like to see it on her? I don't know why Rachel was always at Scott. Maybe because he was the only person we knew that would say no to her outright. Well, the only person that liked girls. Ian would have no problem saying no, but he was a whole different case, right? Rachel was determined that the three of us were going to hook up one day. I wanted to tell her no, it wasn't going to happen mostly because one kiss and we were totally weirded out. I could imagine what the whole thing would be like.

We went to a party first because there was no way I was having a needle jammed into me thousands of times without some alcohol coursing through these veins. I wasn't going to get blitzed like I did with the other tattoo, but a little fortification was never bad for courage. We then went over to the tattoo parlor, and I kinda regretted the decision to stay sober enough to remember. I don't care what people said about the pain of a tattoo being some ethereal experience, pain is pain I say. And it did hurt. But once it was done, the effect was rather stunning. That was the best summation of my personality and I would have been hugging Rachel and doing some filthy things to her body, but my hip was in pain. So Rachel convinced me to go to this other party for a few more drinks for the pain. Besides, there were people there that I hadn't seen in forever.

I was weak, I know. But if you were with Rachel, there would be little resistance either. We ended up having a great time in this guy's closet and then having to go for round two when we didn't want to interrupt the couple on the floor right in front of the closet door. Hey, what else was there to do? Anyway, we had a great time in general, hanging out with some people that had just gotten back into LA and dancing and drinking. It had been a while since I had cut loose like this and just enjoyed myself. We had such a blast that I ended up stumbling home as the sun was rising. Oh well. Good times. Didn't want to get out of practice for those. Yeah, Lucy was going to have to wait until I woke up that afternoon. I crawled into bed beside Scott and was out before I could steal all of the blankets.

I've been woken up in better ways before. Lots better. Being kicked out of a dumpster by a cop. That was way better than waking up to a loud crash, metal slamming and then a sound that made my blood run cold and every bit of sleepiness flee from my body. Scott screaming.

I had never heard Scott scream before, but I knew it was him. I just knew.

I scrambled out of the bed and threw myself into the garage. I got a good look at what had happened and felt the world swim a little. Have I mentioned that I don't like the sight of blood? Especially in large quantities. And more especially when it's coming out of someone that I care for. The hood of the truck had come down and landed on Scott's arm. It had a lip on it that had driven into Scott's flesh from hand to elbow.

Scott had pulled the hood off and turned, cradling his injured arm. He was pale and I immediately thought of shock. Him, not me. I was already there, baby. My mind was in such a whirl that it was pretty much useless. I guess my body realized that and decided that it was going to have to do something then. I ran to Scott, yanking off my shirt and wrapping it around his arm, trying to do something to staunch the red flow coming from him. I'm not sure how we did it, but I wasn't thinking clearing again until we were driving. Scott had a bungee cord around his upper arm, using it like a tourniquet. All I can say is that it was a good thing that I had started with Lucy's engine because I was sucking every bit of power that I could from her. Scott had grabbed some towels on the way out and they were already turning red. He was the color of milk and I didn't know what I was going to do if he died in my car on the way. All I could do was pray as I did 90 mph down city streets.

I cut off an ambulance and parked nearly on the front walk of the emergency room, but Scott was still conscious when we got there. I ignored the ambulance driver's curses and helped Scott into the ER. It was packed with people sniffling and groaning. A sign said to sign in and they would help people in order. Yeah right. He was going to die if we waited that long. The nurses were behind an inch of bullet-proof glass, so there was no way to make them speed the process up. ER's had a philosophy. If you come in by ambulance, then you get high treatment. Why? Typically, you can afford to pay and weren't charity. Scott kinda helped the situation by choosing that moment to collapse onto the floor. There was this guy that had come in behind us and he pushed me out of the way and started touching Scott. He's on the floor bleeding to death and this guy is going to go through his pockets. Not in this lifetime.

"Get off of him, creep" I screamed and tried to shove the guy away. He totally ignored me.

"Shelley" he shouted. One of the nurses looked up from her paperwork. "Get me a gurney and see what room is open"

"Yes, doctor" she said and took off to the back.

I took a step back and stared at them. "It's Doctor Creep" the doctor said gently. He glanced up at me, his green eyes bemused. I could only make a little squeak of reply.

"I'm sorry" I finally said, sniffing. Tears? What the hell"There's so many people." He was doing something, wrapping or tightening, bandages, I wasn't sure.

"I understand" he said. "I do work here. And it's Dr. Harris."

A couple of nurses with a gurney came flying out behind the locked doors and they got Scott up. I followed them to the back as they ran him into this other room and started working on getting the blood to stop flowing out of him.

Everything was coming in a rush as Dr. Harris called a bunch of numbers and letters to a nurse as Scott was being situated in a room. All I knew was that when Dr Harris urgently yelled, "Double time, if we want to save the arm."

My stomach turned and I'm sure I turned as white as Scott was looking. Save the arm? If Scott lost his arm, that would be…He'd die. Or kill himself because he couldn't work on cars. I smiled slightly, no, Scott would prove to become the only mechanic with one arm.

I was lost in thought when a nurse touched my shoulder, "Ma'am, if you could wait outside and put this on." She handed me a scrub shirt and I stared at it for a moment before understanding. My shirt. I had used it for Scott. I was standing in a hospital in pants and a bra and I had blood all over my chest. Scott's blood.

My eyes were wide as I watched the doctors and nurses around Scott, they had removed the makeshift sling/tourniquet we'd made. The huge gash up Scott's arm was not a pretty sight, the wound was gushing blood and all I could think was what if he lost so much and the damage was so much that his arm would have to be removed, or worse, he died. I stumbled backwards as all of the adrenaline and instinct that had caused me to move 100 miles a minute drained out of me and the effects of very little sleep and drinking the night before took over. I think that explains why the last thing I remember is the room swimming around my eyes before it all went black.

I woke up to the sound of rhythmic beeping. I had been moved to a hospital bed and now had a shirt on. My head felt as if an African tribe was having a traditional drum ceremony inside of it and my eyelids felt heavy. I groaned before I realized where I was and what had brought me here. I sat up quickly, maybe a little too quickly and looked around. I didn't see Scott. I ran pulled back the curtain and ran for the hall, "Scott!" I screamed, running down the hallway towards the nurses' station.

"Where's Scott!" I demanded, and slammed my open palm on the counter.

The nurse gave me a bored look, "Last name?"

I blinked, I didn't have that. "I don't know. His arm got sliced by…"

"I can't tell you were he is if I don't know his name. And are you a relative?" The nurse droned.

My eyes narrowed and I hit the glass with my hand, "His arm got sliced by the hood. He came in here just a bit ago. I just want to know if he's okay!" This bitch was on the verge of me grabbing her neck and strangling her.

"Ma'am. You have to calm down." The nurse was now standing, giving me a 'I'm not intimidated by you' pose.

"No!" I argued, "You need to tell me where Scott is! I need to find him!"

The nurse was getting frustrated and I was getting hysterical. I wasn't sure what was going on, I just needed to find Scott. Being in hysterics might also explain why when a hand was placed on my arm I turned and swung with all my might.

My fist connected with a face and then my eyes went wide and my hands covered my mouth in shock. I'd just socked the doctor who'd helped Scott right in the nose. "Oh my god! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to…Where's Scott?"

The doctor was holding his nose with one hand and he held up a finger with the other, "Shelley," he mumbled, "Don't call security. Just get a nurse to look at my nose."

The nurse, Shelley, looked from Dr. Harris to me, before hanging up the phone. "Yes sir."

I glanced at the doctor, "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," he said. Most other doctors would be pissed or condescending. He oozed patience and understanding and it was soothing. I would have thought the only thing that would have calmed me down then was a bottle of tequila, but the kindness in his eyes worked even better. "Scott was taken into surgery. His arm was broken in several places and it's going to have to be pinned back together, along with the soft tissue damage. When the surgeon comes out, he'll be able to give you more detail."

My voice was shaking when I asked the next question, terrified of what the doctor might say. "He's going to live though, right?"

"We stopped the bleeding before he went to the OR," Dr. Harris replied. "He's going to live."

I let out a breath and gave him a smile, "Thank you."

"I'll check on you before I leave," he said. "In the meantime, go to the surgical waiting room. The surgeon will come in there and they'll let you know what room he's going to be placed in."

I nodded and he gave me directions. The scrub shirt was sticking to me and I still had blood in my hair and arms. For a second, I thought I was going to pass out again before I forced myself to get it together. Okay. I wasn't going to be able to keep from screaming hysterics. I needed some reinforcements. On the way to the waiting room was a phone and I found enough change in my pockets to make a phone call. She better be there, I thought as I dialed. After this, I was going to be bartering with pocket lint.

"Whaa?" The sleepy 'I'm going to kill whoever just woke me' tone had never sounded better to me.

"Rach, it's me."

She yawned. "Kat, do you know what time it is? I didn't get home until…"

"I'm at the hospital," I interrupted. Her sudden silence said I had her full attention. "There was this accident…" Oh, God, I was about to start crying.

"Are you okay?" I could hear the first threads of panic in her voice.

"Scott's in surgery," I finally said. "I'm not hurt. A hood fell on him and it cut him really bad. He's in surgery right now and I've got to wait for them to tell me what's going to happen."

"What hospital?" I told her. "I'll be there in like ten minutes. You need me to bring anything?" For the first time since I had met her, she was completely serious without a trace of teasing.

"A clean shirt," I said. "Mine…there's a lot of blood."

"See you in a few," she said. It didn't occur to me until later that she lived half an hour away from the hospital, but I had no doubt that she would be here in ten minutes. Rachel played hard, but when you needed her, she was there, no questions asked.

I went into the waiting room and sat down in the dull orange plastic chair. There was another family in there and the mother wouldn't let her kid come over to my side of the room when she got a look at me. Didn't blame her. I looked like an extra from a horror movie. But it was real. All of this was real. I sniffed. What if I had been out there? I had decided it was more important to be out partying rather than stay home. I would have been out there with Scott this morning. I might have heard something, seen something and got him to move. We could have been a little shaken this morning, that's all. Instead, he was in surgery and I was the one covered in his blood. All because I wanted a cute tattoo last night. I could have killed him because a tattoo and a few drinks were more important than being responsible.

I wanted to sob hysterically, but tears seemed so pitifully weak to express what I felt. I wanted to scream, rage, hit things until I was bleeding. I was the one that needed to be bleeding, not Scott. He was paying for my mistake. The only one he had made was taking me in to start with.

I didn't fight when I felt arms wrap around my shoulders. I turned, knowing by scent who was sitting next to me. Rachel's long dark hair curled around me as I wept against her chest. She hugged me tight, saying some nice things in my ear. I couldn't remember what exactly she was saying, but it was nice I was sure. For once, not a single promise of sex to cheer me up. That would be the last thing that would have worked right then.

"Now I got to kill the boy myself," she finally said.

I looked up at her. My eyes were hot and hurt. She shrugged. "He made you cry. Any guy makes my girl cry, and I kill him. Not that I want to, but hey, those are the rules."

I smiled weakly. "Blood freaks me out."

She got a good look at me. "Yeah, I can imagine." She reached into her bag and pulled out a T-shirt. "Figured you would want to go for hospital conservative. Need some help getting cleaned up?"

That was an honest offer, not a try to get me into the bathroom for a good one against the wall. Just to calm me down, of course. There was a little bathroom in the waiting room and we went through almost all of the paper towels getting the dried blood off of me. I still needed to wash my hair, but at least I didn't look like a freak show. We went back into the waiting room and sat down, waiting for what seemed like days to hear something from anyone. Rachel held my hand, not complaining that I was squeezing too hard, though her hand was red later.

Finally a guy walked out of the doors and looked around. "Scott X family?" he asked, sounding annoyed.

"That's me." I jumped up quickly, dragging Rach to her feet.

"I'm Dr. Fenton," he said. He sounded like he was pissed that we had dragged him in from his golf game. "Scott is out of surgery. He'll be in recovery for two hours and then assigned to a room. They'll call you when he's ready."

He turned to leave and I grabbed his arm. "Is he okay?" I asked. "He still has an arm right? Everything is going to be okay?"

He jerked his arm back like I had cooties. "His arm is still attached. A physical therapist will be sent up to the room and discuss post-operative care. If you'll excuse me, I have other patients." Without another word he practically ran back towards the operating rooms.

"Jerk." Rachel muttered.

I sighed in relief. I really could care less if he was a jerk or not. Scott was okay and his arm was still intact. I leaned against Rachel, "He's okay. That's all that matters."

"Yeah." Rachel gave me another hug, "Have you had anything to eat?"

"No." I answered, realizing that I was a little hungry.

Rachel announced that she was going to feed me and dragged me to cafeteria. It was a nice place, which was surprising considering that hospitals weren't as highly valued since the pulse. We chose a table and got in line for food. The cafeteria looked good, the food on the other hand, wasn't so great looking. But at that point, I was too hungry to care. As Rachel and I made our way back to our table a hand caught my wrist.

Instinct caused me to tense and turn to give the idiot something he'd remember but when I turned, there was Dr. Harris again. "Any news on Scott?"

I gave a small smile, "He's in recovery. Should be able to see him in a while."

"That's good." He smiled tenderly, "If you need anything, or have any questions, feel free to find me." He paused and his gaze shifted to Rachel, "Who's this?"

I pulled Rachel next to me, "This is Rachel. My best gal."

"Also known as moral support." She clarified.

"Well, it's nice to meet you." He offered a hand and Rachel shook it.

I nodded and was about to make an exit when a woman rushed to the table and turned Dr. Harris' face towards hers, "What on earth happened to you!"

The smile never left the doctor's face as he turned to the woman, "Ashley, it's really not a big deal. Just another day at work."

The woman gave him a stern look before her gaze fell on me, "Hello."

"Hi." I shifted nervously, "I was just thanking Dr. Harris for helping me earlier. If it weren't for him, I don't know what would have happened to my friend."

The woman's face softened and she looked Dr. Harris. "Oh, sorry to interrupt."

"It's fine." I smiled politely, "I'll be sure to take your advice, Dr. Harris. And thanks again."

He had a very amused look in his eyes, "And thank you, Miss Thomas."

I winked at him and Rachel and I walked to our table. "What did happen to him?" Rachel asked, pointing to her eyes.

"Well," I started, looking at the limp lettuce on my plate, "I kinda hit him."

"Kinda?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"Well, it was an accident. Had I known it was him I wouldn't have done it." I answered quickly.

Rachel blinked before laughing shortly, "Damn baby, you really are a wild woman."

I laughed and reach over to her hand, "Thank you for coming."

"All in a days work." She smiled, squeezing my hand.

We finished our meal, chatting mildly and then waved to Dr. Harris as we left the cafeteria to wait until we could see Scott. And boy, was it a long wait.

It was more than an hour later when someone came and told us we could see Scott if we wanted to. I gave Rachel a look and she held up her hand, "You don't even have to ask. Go, I'll be there in a bit."

I gave her a grateful look, she really was being the perfect girlfriend right now.

The room was dark when I entered. I walked towards the bed Scott was laying on. He was asleep and his hair had fallen into his eyes. I glanced at the monitors around him, trying to make out what the bleeps and lines meant. There were lines and tubes and needles and stuff and for all my mechanical knowledge, I couldn't figure out what the first thing was for. I pulled a chair next to the bed and grabbed Scott's hand, "Don't worry Scott, we'll get out of this."

Scott stirred a bit and his eyes opened. He looked tired, despite the fact that the color had returned to his face. His mouth opened but I put a hand over it, "Don't try to talk. Just rest. It's going to be okay."

Scott gave me a look that slightly resembled a smile before his eyes lids slowly lowered and he let out a breath. I bit my lip and sent out a silent prayer as a tear slid down my face, "Please, help him get better."

Silence fell and I rested my head on Scott's stomach, my hand still holding his. I wasn't letting go for anything.

I don't know how much time passed before I heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. I turned as Dr. Harris walked towards the bed with a clipboard in hand. "Just checking in on him before I leave," he said and then smiled. "Besides, all of the other doctors are afraid you'll belt them one."

That got a wan smile out of me. I looked at Scott, 'He's going to be okay? The stupid surgeon wouldn't tell me anything."

"He's stabilized," He said, "And he should be okay. He had a compound fracture on the bone in the lower part of his arm. It was bloody, but you were able to act quick enough. He's going to be in a lot of pain when he wakes up, but give him about three months, plus physical therapy and he'll be as good as new." Thank you God. And thank you that Dr. Harris was using English to explain what was wrong and not a bunch of Latin jargon.

I stood and straightened my clothes, "Is there anything you can give him for the pain?"

"Well, we didn't get a chance to get any information from either of you earlier, but if you can answer some questions for me, then we can get things in order."

"I'll do what I can." I offered.

"Let's start with his name." he asked tenderly.

"Scott." I answered, taking my seat again.

The doctor smiled, "I figured as much. Last name?"

I blinked again, I really didn't know. We'd never talked about it, so I gave him mine, "Thomas."

"Age?"

"Twenty-one," I said automatically. He was more like seventeen, but you didn't admit that to someone who might decide under-age meant we were both children and social services was required.

Dr. Harris tapped his clipboard for a second with his pen. He looked up at me, trying to phrase his words carefully. "When you're going to lie about age, make sure it's not to a doctor that took x-rays of his arm and hands," he said. I went to protest, but he held up a hand. "I'm not here to pass judgement or tell you what you need to be in a foster home or anything like that. But Scott's fingertips haven't ossified yet. That occurs in young men when they are around twenty-one. I have a seventeen-year-old daughter, and I would say he looks about the same age as she is."

I looked down. He had been so nice, and I didn't want to sit here and lie to the man. "Can't you just pretend to believe it?"

He shook his head. "First, anything you tell me is privileged information. I can't tell another soul. I need to know everything to help Scott, okay."

I nodded. He looked relieved. "Do you know what happened?"

I looked at the doctor and shook my head, "I walked into the garage and the hood had fallen on his arm. He was finishing a job we had…I woke up to him screaming. How bad is it?"

"We'll get there in a minute. Do you know if he's allergic to anything?"

I shook my head, "I don't think so. But we haven't really discussed that."

He wrote some things on the clipboard before placing it between his arm and side. "I'll order him some morphine for the pain and when he wakes up. The floor doctor will probably be around later to take over the case." He hesitated. "I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but I would highly recommend calling his parents."

My eyes went wide. I didn't even know their names, and from little hints Scott had dropped, his family life would have given mine a run for its money in dysfunction. "They're dead," I said quickly.

That disapproving look was back. "They might have medical insurance. I am sure there's a reason why he isn't living with them right now, but Scott needs to stay in the hospital for a couple of days at least. And then there is going to be months of recovery and physical therapy along with follow-up visits. All of this costs a lot of money. If you can't pay, then Scott's going to be released as soon as possible tomorrow. And no PT means he won't recover full mobility in his arm. Plus, if there's any problems that could arise, then it won't get caught without follow-ups and things like infections can happen."

I perked up a little. "Don't worry about money, doc," I said with a smile. "Scott and I do car restorations. Just sold one for a bundle."

He nodded gravely. "Later, an administrative nurse is going to come in and handle the details. They are going to want to see it up front."

I nodded, taking it all in. "Anything else?"

"Well," The doctor had a 'I'm only saying this because it's my job' look on his face as he looked from me to Scott, "You understand that not moving his arm around means that you two shouldn't do anything for the next couple weeks at least."

My brow furrowed before it hit me. He'd referred to Scott as my boyfriend before, it was only natural for him to assume that we were together. "He's not my boyfriend," I offered, "So that shouldn't be a problem."

"Alright." He said with an almost relieved look on his face. After seeing me with Rachel, I guess he figured it out. "Dr. Connor is going to be around soon to check on him. But if you need me for anything, a nurse can page me."

I nodded once more, "Thanks. And again, I'm really sorry about your nose."

Dr. Harris smiled softly as he headed out the door. "It'll heal. Besides, that's one hell of a right hook you've got."

I nodded again and then turned to the bed. I should call Rachel and let her know what was going on. I sighed, if I laid my head down for a few seconds, it wouldn't hurt either. Heaving a sigh I squeezed his hand, "It's okay now, Scott. It's all going to be okay."