Review Responses:

Snape's Opera Rose: Thank you, darling, for the lovely review, you are highly thought of in my books. :D (When/if I ever publish my non fan-fic story you shall have mention! Haha, I can see that going down well on the dedications page, the editors would stare and blink and be like, "what the…?")

lara: 'Didn't he "die" in London'? Of COURSE he died in London! I just couldn't live with that sort of thing. It would actually be medically possible for him to be temporarily comatose (because sometimes comatose people seem dead?). Would that please you better, sweetie? Because I could always say that happened. And no, I'm not trying to sound mean; you are a lovely little person… however anonymous you may be.

hugs them both Thank you, my two little review angels! And especially you lara because you reviewed twice. :D I hope you both continue to like the story… although I shall give you a warning, and this goes for everyone else too… if you don't like gory hospital scenes involving needles and scalpels and lots of blood you probably won't like it and may want to skip it out. It's sadistic, well, not really, because most people working in hospitals don't get high on the sight of blood because of the problems that would cause… and the doctors here (who are MINE, not Dan Brown's, that's all I claim) are also of the non-bloodthirsty variety. Thank you for your time. :D


The hospital ward teemed with the regular confusion as the stretcher was wheeled in and manoeuvred into a small square cubicle sealed off by four blue curtains. Inside the cubicle were several anonymous machines and monitors.

The clips on the stretcher's wheels were clamped down to keep it immobile, and Doctor Charles Lawson, a British doctor who had been transferred to the Parisian hospital the previous year, began analysis.

"Jesus Christ, Vanessa, this man's been to the gates of Death and back by the looks of things!"

The nurse sighed. "Very professional diagnostics, Charles. What should we do about it?"

Doctor Lawson's mouth set into a thin line as he concentrated, thinking seriously this time. "I think we should anaesthetize him and do something about that wound. He seems to have lost a lot of blood from it – it's a wonder he's still alive, in fact – though it's not new – see, the blood's dry. Then, when he wakes up, we have to talk to him. The secretary who answered his call said he sounded delusional and we might need to get a psychologist in or something."

Wasting no time, Vanessa reached for the needle of anaesthetic even as Lawson spoke. Checking the tip of the needle was clean she swabbed the area she was going to insert it into with a cotton blood before driving the metal point into the patient's pale skin. She watching the fluid in the needle subside, not even batting an eyelid. Then she withdrew the needle and wiped away the single drop of blood that appeared from the site.

Her right hand, encased in a white rubber glove, then deposited the needle into Lawson's extended palm. He handed her another cotton swab and she began dabbing away at the dried blood. She realised soon that the wound wasn't as large as she'd initially thought it would be.

"I don't think he'll require surgery," she said, still working. "It doesn't look infected either and –"

She stopped dabbing and fell silent as she registered the depth of the main wound and the black of the bullet, barely visible beneath a layer of congealed blood. Her stomach turned slightly in what she considered to be a very unprofessional manner.

Without looking at Lawson, she spoke. "I think I just changed my mind. Look at this!"

Lawson leaned forward to examine the wound. "God. For a second there I was hoping it would just be a wound to fix and a mental problem. But nooo. Just my luck. A bullet extraction and a mental problem."

"Would you stop with the smart talk and religious references?" Vanessa said, a little angrily. "Obviously, we're going to have to extract the bullet, so help me with these stretcher clamps and help me get him upstairs."

And so the clamps were undone and the stretcher was off for another excursion. It glided smoothly over the smooth blue tiles and rolled easily into the large hospital elevator. Neither Lawson or Vanessa spoke as the elevator doors slid open, they just pushed the stretcher with an almost mindless determination and speed.

Minutes later, the man was on the operating table with the two doctors standing over him. Vanessa had applied another anaesthetic, just to be safe. Lawson fitted the oxygen mask and then the nurse leant over the body with a pair of elongated tweezers. She gently dug it into the now clean wound. It made a soft, squashing sound as it pressed against the raw flesh. There was a small spurt of blood as the tweezers opened slightly to receive the bullet, before she was able to tug it out. There was little resistance.

For a second Vanessa held the bullet still in the tweezers, its bloodstained profile intriguing her. She glanced down at her albino patient.

This man should be dead, and he's not…

"Lawson, I need a plastic bag," she said. Lawson raised an eyebrow. It sounded random and silly, but he gave her one. She gently dropped the bullet into it and sealed it.

Lawson stared at her. "Why do you need it in there?"

Vanessa glared. "You know perfectly well. We may need it later."


Awfully sorry, this chapter is plain gore. I'm sure there will be more later on… all apologies all the same. R&R people… R&R.