"What is taking so long?" The shooter asked.
"This is the oldest hospital in the country and is quite large. I am trying to take you the way with the least number of windows and bystanders for your own protection and theirs."
The shooter almost buys his story, but the truth was they were just walking in circles. Max was trying to buy time for his plan to come together.
"Wait a minute, we've past this same OR before. There is no way you have two OR3's." The gunman hammered the butt of his gun into the back of Max's head. Max fell to his knees again. He felt the back of his head and a warm stream of blood was now matting his hair down. At that moment, a huddle of patients and a few scrubs came into view. The shooter snapped his guns around to point at the group which cowered down with their hands up.
Max jumped up quickly, causing an extreme head rush that caused him to pause for a moment thinking he might faint from the sudden action and recent head wound. "Don't shoot them." Max put himself in front of the guns. "They did not do anything here. They are innocent just trying to get out of your way."
The shooter continued to keep his guns pointed at them trying to decide what to do.
Max spoke again, "You're not here to kill them. You came here for Dr. Sharpe. You're not a murderer like she is, you didn't come here to kill these people. Please let these people go and I will bring you to Dr. Sharpe who is probably waiting on the roof waiting for us." Max put his hands up pointing an open palm towards the stairway to their left.
The shooter took a deep breath but knew Max was right. He dropped his barrels and Max waved them on. They took the hint ran out of view.
"Now, where were we?" Max said leading the way up the nearest stairwell towards to the rooftop access point. He did not what hurt more, his pulsing head wound or his aching heart. He did not know how many more lies he could tell about Sharpe being a murderer. Each hurt more than the previous one. It will keep her alive, he kept telling himself.
Sharpe had been pacing in Max's office for quite some time after finishing the file on Mrs. Hornsby. She was trying to figure out what to do. She could not let Max walk into his own death for her. What would that solve? Max would be dead and there would still be a shooter on the loose in the hospital. No, she needed to stop this. It was she who he was searching for. She would give herself up. She stopped pacing.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. What do you think you're doing?" Iggy stood up seeing her pacing come to a halt.
"How did you know? Never mind, I can't let him do this." Sharpe started pushing the barricade furniture out of the way.
"Helen, you can not go out there. He is looking for you. He'll kill you. Max made me swear to keep you in here. I am going to do just that." He stepped in her way of moving a lounge chair away from the door.
"Iggy, I appreciate your loyalty to Max, but it is because of Max's loyalty that I cannot let him die for me." She continued to push furniture out of her way.
"Helen do you realize what you are risking?"
"Yes. I am risking my life to stop a man from shooting my—, from shooting Max who is risking his life to save mine right now. The way I see it, Max is trying to be a hero, valiant as it is, but sometimes being courageous is just plain stupid. Max cannot die for me. I am going up there and there is nothing you can do or say to stop me." Helen had moved the last piece of furniture and was free to leave the office.
"Okay, but if Max asks, hoping he is still alive when you get there," Sharpe gave him a death glare, "Right not the best thing to say, but can you tell him I did everything I could to keep my promise so he doesn't fire me?" Sharpe smiled at his way of letting her go.
"Yes, Iggy I'll tell him you fought me to the death to stay."
"But that would mean I am dead. Good one, very funny." Iggy gave a nervous laugh. "Well, I wish you all the best and I do hope to see you both again." He gave her a hug and stepped back.
Helen turned to make a proud exit, grabbing the doorknob to go save Max. The door was still locked. "Um Iggy, the door is locked."
They both stared at it, then looked at each other, and at the same time ran at the door with their full weight, Iggy doing more of the damage, and broke the door down.
Now, out in the hallway, her shoulder hurting a lot more than it did before, Helen said, "Now, I will go save Max."
Iggy waved her off, holding his very painful shoulder and wishing her well, "Go get your man," he whispered to himself.
Max and the shooter had reached the last stairwell to the roof when Max's pager went off. It read:
HIS NAME IS MARTIN HORNSBY
Dr. Sharpe was trying to help him before she got there. She was running as fast as she could, glad Max's office was on a higher floor than the rest of their offices.
"What was that?" The shooter asked. Max glanced up from his pager and had to make something up.
"That was Sharpe. Said she is only a few minutes away."
Max opened the door to roof and they both walked on to the rooftop. A slight breeze hit them, but the sunlight was a refreshing change. Max kept walking until they were standing in the middle of the roof. A clear line of sight to all the surrounding buildings of New York. A beautiful sight. He and Sharpe came up here a lot to clear their minds from work. After a particular hard case or loss of a patient, they could find the other up here staring out at the vastness of the city. They would help the other remember what is really important in life, that the work they do is good and that they might not be able to save every life, but they can try and cannot diminish that effort.
Helen was the only person who was able to talk Max down from some of his crazy ideas that might bankrupt the hospital, but she was also the same person who urged him to keeping helping, keep fixing the system because only he was brave enough to try. Max was the one person who had rekindled the love of medicine in Sharpe. She had stepped away from practicing before Max pulled her back in. He saw the healing nature still in her and supported her going out on a limb for her patients knowing Max would always have her back. They needed each other. Helen to keep Max's head from living in the clouds and Max to keep pushing Helen to take risks.
They could not explain what they were to each other. They did know without each other; they were not whole. Part of them cease to function. When Helen chose not to be Max's doctor anymore, Max literally began to die. And when Max was held out of the loop of Helen risk her job for her patients, she lost her position, her title, and almost her job right from under Max's nose.
When they found each other they were both broken, in their own ways. Max was secretly dying of cancer in a separated relationship with his pregnant wife. Helen was lacking passion and lost in her constant grief of losing patients and unable to identify herself anymore as a doctor. They needed each other, unbeknownst to them at the time, but they started to repair the other. There were pieces that broke off again, but they did their best to repair the biggest pieces. Whatever they were to each other, they did not care to label, as long as they had each other.
"Time's up Dr. Goodwin." The shooter brought Max out of his head. "Where is she?"
"She's coming?"
"you know the more you say that the more I don't believe you. I think you're stalling. Which means you are of no use for me and might as well go looking for her on my own." He cocked his gun and pointed it at Max's head. "On your knees, Dr. Goodwin."
"Is this what your wife would have wanted, Martin?" The shooter's face sprang to life hearing his name.
"How did you know my name? No matter, you're of no use to me anymore. I'm sorry, Max."
"Max, that is my name. You know me, Martin. You don't want to kill me. Your wife wouldn't have wanted you to kill me. You were a kind man, a loving husband. This isn't who you are, Martin." Max pleaded.
"Stop saying me name. You don't know me," the shooter punched Max in the stomach and pistol whipped him again. Max fell to his knees for the third time. "Enough talking. It's time."
He raised the gun to Max's head again. Max looked down knowing this was the end and not wanting to watch anymore. At least it was him and not Sharpe.
The rooftop door burst open and Sharpe came running out. What she saw before her, Max on his knees, head bowed, the shooter holding hi at gun point, forced a scream out of her she did not know she was able to create.
"Noooooooooo," she screamed. The shooter looked up surprised to see Sharpe. She came. She came? Max thought. But in that instance of pause, a crack hit the air like a whip, and everyone froze. The noise was deafening. Then Martin Hornsby dropped to his knees and keeled over.