"I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time."
"No, not at all." Shortly after Courtney vacated his apartment, Christian jumped into the shower to cleanse both his mind and his body of the earlier events of the night. Sure, the bitch had been one hell of a screw, but she had put a damper on his relationship with Matt, and possibly his relationship with his own daughter. A part of him felt sinful for sleeping with her, his instincts already telling him he'd probably pay for it later. Then again, why should he have to? What he chose to do in private was his business and no one elses. After he got out of the shower, he pulled on a plain gray T-Shirt and some black sweat pants. Ten minutes later, his phone rang, and it was Amy's adoptive mother, Teresa. He couldn't figure out why she was calling him, but at least she hadn't woken him up in the middle of the night like before. "What can I do for you?"
"Frank, my ex-husband, came over last night. He came over looking for Amy, but I told him she wasn't here."
Christian's blood began to boil at the man's name. His jaw tightened up, and his grip on the phone in his hand tightened. He willed himself to take a breath in an attempt to calm himself, and continued to listen to what the woman was saying.
"He accused me of lying to him. He looked in her room and noticed all her stuff was gone, and that's when he demanded I tell him where she was." Teresa paused for a moment, and then exuded a heavy sigh. "We got into a big argument about it."
A weary sigh escaped him. "Did he hurt you?" He asked her, in the gentlest tone he could muster.
"When I refused to tell him where she was, h-he grabbed me by the arm, and threw me against the wall." Teresa's voice softened and began to shake, almost as if she were on the verge of tears. "I...went to get up, but he punched me in the face, and again in the stomach. If our neighbors hadn't heard the noise and called the police, I'm sure he would have done worse. Unfortunetly, he left before the cops could arrive."
A deep scowl crossed Christian's face listening to Teresa's story. Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, he sighed irritably, and cursed softly under his breath. "I'm so sorry." He brought one of his hands up to rub at his forehead in frustration. "I don't understand. Why are you telling me all this? I mean, shouldn't you be talking to the police?"
There was a sniffle from her end. "I'm telling you this because I've made a decision."
His brows stitched together in bewilderment. "A decision on what?"
"I've decided to testify against him. I've thought a lot about it, and I can't keep putting myself or Amy at risk. I want to testify and I want you to be there when I do. You're as much a part of Amy's life as I am, and together, I want us to make sure he gets what he deserves."
He exuded an allieviated sigh. That was the best news he'd heard all night. It angered Christian that the police had missed the one chance to catch the asshole in the act, but with proof of abuse on Amy as well as her mother, he could very well tip the scales in their favor in court. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'll be there. Whatever it takes to put that asshole behind bars. Whatever it takes to keep you two safe, I'll be there."
"Thank you, and thank you for everything you've already done for Amy. I really appreciate it."
"Well, it's the least I can do. She is after all my daughter too."
Just then, there was an audible knock on Christian's door. He turned his head in the direction of the sound. After informing the woman that he had to go, but he'd be in touch, he hung up and rose from his bed, heading towards the door. A weary sigh escaped him as he opened the door to see Amy standing there. Her left arm was crossed over her chest, and her right hand was against her chest. She appeared to be sweating. From the vexation on her face, she didn't look too happy to see him.
"Do you have any Tylenol?"
He cocked a brow at her in question, forcing a small smile. "Hello to you too."
She sighed in frustration, bringing the hand that was on her chest up to her temples. "Look, I have a headache, and I ran out. I just want to know if I can borrow some Tylenol."
Christian was a bit hesitant. He could sense that something wasn't quite right with her, but nevertheless, he found himself opening the door wider so she could enter. "Sure, come on in."
Once she crossed the threshold and stepped further into his apartment, he shut the door and started towards his bathroom to get her the bottle of Tylenol. He was half-way to his destination when her voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Don't think I don't know."
His brows furrowed in thought, whirling back around to face her. "Know what?"
Amy rolled her eyes, marching towards him. "Oh don't act like you don't know what the hell I'm talking about. I know that you slept with Courtney! Matt called me and told me!"
He exhaled sharply, his eyebrows arching expectantly. "Word travels fast."
Her eyes narrowed in fury. "Who the hell do you think you are? How could you be such an asshole? How could you do this to me? Did you even give it any thought to how this might effect me?"
"Did you?" She shouted angrily.
"Hey!" He cried. "This wasn't just a one-sided thing, sweetheart. Your little friend was just waiting for the right moment to pull my dick out of my pants. She started seducing me long before you were even witness to it, so don't go putting the blame exclusively on me here."
Amy groaned irritably, placing both of her hands on either sides of her head, and shutting her eyes tightly. "Ugh! That fucking bitch! Why did I ever get involved with her? She's nothing but a slut! She'll always be a slut!"
"If you knew how much of a slut she was to begin with, why did you get involved with her in the first place? And don't give me that anti-social, wallflower bullshit. You're a Troy. You didn't need to parade around with the high school slut to win points with the rest of your class." Okay, so maybe he was being a little harsh, but if they were going to get into an argument over this, rather than skirt around it, he'd rather get it over with and move on.
She sent an icy glare in his direction. "I don't know, ok? I. Don't. Know! Why does anyone become friends? We had things in common, we got along. You know, things were so good between us when we first became friends, and then she just turned into this conceited and shallow fucking slut!" She shook her head and scoffed, "actually, now that I think about it, you two really were made for each other."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"What the hell do you think it means? You're both conceited, you're both shallow, and the only thing you two ever think about is getting laid. You are just as much of an asshole as she is a slut. I mean, jesus! I'm your daughter, and to go and sleep with your daughter's best friend is the lowest thing you could have ever done." She paused, wiping away the beads of sweat that rolled down the right side of her face. "Oh, no, wait, you've probably done worse than that, but I wouldn't really know because I probably wasn't around to see it."
For a moment, all he could do was stare at her, his face expressionless. Had his daughter actually called him an asshole? It had been a long while since he'd seen this type of hostility out of her, but at that time, she had no idea they were even related, and neither one of them wanted to believe it. Well, he'd dealt with her hostility before, and he could deal with it again. She was already pushing his buttons, but this time, it wasn't going to end well.
His features turned stone cold as he stepped towards her, "look, I already told you this was as much her fault as it was mine. None of this would have ever happened if that slut hadn't been such a God damn tease to begin with. If you want to bitch out anyone, go bitch out her. She's the one who took it upon herself to come here tonight, and she's the one who decided she'd rather it be with me than with Matt. You want to hate me? Go right ahead, but if I should be pissed at anyone, it shouldn't be Courtney. It should be you."
She blinked back her astonishment. Bringing her hand up, she wiped away the sweat on her forehead. "Me! I didn't do a damn thing!"
"Exactly, and it's what you didn't do that's the problem. Maybe if you'd bothered to tell me that Courtney and Matt were involved, I would have thought twice about screwing the little bitch, but you didn't." He planted his hands firmly on his hips. "I guess that makes you as much to blame for all this as it does the two of us, hmm?"
She sighed in frustration, "well I never thought she'd go and sleep with you! She was spending all her time with Matt, and we never even saw each other anymore because of it. I was busy spending time with you, and she was busy with Matt. I didn't think to tell you because I was busy with other things."
His brows stitched together in consideration. "Oh really. Busy doing what? Being Kimber's God damn little Barbie doll?" When she didn't reply to him, he had his answer. "That's what I thought, and while the two of us were spending a lot of time together, we haven't exactly spent every waking moment with each other now, have we? You know, there is a little something called a job. You might want to think about actually getting one, but if you hope to find one with 'carbon-copy of a bleached blonde coke whore' in the job description, try looking elsewhere."
Amy winced, placing her right hand over her heart. She looked over at him, her eyes narrowing to angry slits. "Why are you acting like such an asshole?" She screamed.
He noticed her wince, but he didn't think too much of it. "Aside from the fact that it's no different from how I usually act? Right around the time you started acting like a bitch. What is Kimber teaching you this week? Huh? The ins and outs of what a God damn prick I am?"
Her brows furrowed incriminatingly. Taking in a shallow breath, she shut her eyes for a moment almost as if she were trying to catch her breath, either that or calm herself. He couldn't figure out which one it was. Finally, she lifted her chin and looked up at him. "You know what? I'm sick of you talking shit about her. I'm sick of you telling me who I can and can't be friends with. I'm nineteen years old! I should be able to make my own decisions!" She paused, exhaling sharply. "I got rid of one asshole in my life and I don't need another one."
"No, what you need is a God damn wake up call." He took another step towards her until they were half a foot apart. "Kimber is a train wreck. I've told you that I don't know how many times, but you just can't seem to get it through your head." Suddenly, he realized something that he hadn't taken notice of before. Her pupils. They were dialated, and coupled with the fact that she was sweating bullets, he knew what that meant. He exhaled sharply. "Christ."
She stared at him in bewilderment. "What?"
"You're high."
"What? No I'm not!"
"Oh that's bullshit and you know it! Your pupils are dialated, you're sweating bullets, I know what cocaine abuse looks like, sweetheart." He could feel his blood begining to boil, and this time, it was going to take more than a few deep breaths to calm himself down. "Did Kimber give you those drugs? Is that why you've been acting so God damn strange lately, huh?" His voice resonated throughout the apartment with his next words, "because of Kimber!"
Tears began to well up in her eyes. She covered her face with her hands, and shook her head from side to side, but she didn't bother to reply to him.
"You know what? I've come to a decision. I'm going to put an end to this bullshit right now."
She wiped the tears from her eyes and crossed her arms firmly over her chest. "I don't care. I don't want hear anymore of this!"
"Yeah, well tough shit, sweetheart. You should have thought about that before you came in here, and gave me the bitch out of the century." He grabbed a hold of her shoulders, urging her closer to him and gazing intently into her eyes. "I don't want you seeing her anymore, do you understand me?"
Amy began to wriggle in his grasp, but froze when she heard his next words. Her jaw instantly went slack. "What!"
"If this is the shit that self-destructive bitch is doing to my daughter, it ends now. I should have put an end to it a long time ago, but where the hell did that get me? You're never to see her again. In fact, I'm keeping you the hell away from her, and if I find out that you've somehow made contact with the bitch again, I'll--"
"You'll do what?" The tears were already streaming down her cheeks. "Hit me? Just like my adoptive father did?" Her voice shook with emotion.
Almost immediately did he take his hands off her. His heart constricted at her choice of words, and a scowl crossed his face. He sighed softly, bringing his voice down to a slightly calmer tone. "I would never lay a hand on you, but if you don't stop seeing Kimber, you might as well go back to living with your mother. I won't bother paying the rent anymore on your new apartment, and that goes for your car insurance too."
She blinked, looking back down at her feet. Bringing her opposite hand up to the side of her head, she shut her eyes and exuded a soft sigh. "I can't take anymore of this. Look, just give me my damn Tylenol so I can get the hell out of here, and get the hell away from you."
Christian exhaled sharply. "Fine, but the fact that this argument is over doesn't mean shit. I'm not changing my decision about Kimber. The God damn case isn't closed until I say it's closed." And with that, he spun around and headed in the direction of his bathroom, leaving her there standing in his bedroom.
He didn't know if her last words were meant perpetually or for the remainder of the night, but his best bet was that it was on account of her being high. What the hell else could it be? She probably wasn't going to be giving much thought to anything right now, especially the words that came out of her mouth. All she needed was to let off some steam. She'd probably be back to what could be considered normal by tomorrow. And if not, he could always go over to her place, beat the door down, search the whole apartment for whatever God damn drugs she still had, and get them the hell away from her. They'd already turned her into a major bitch, but being a physician, he knew they could do much worse.
Upon entering the bathroom, he approached the sink and opened one of the drawers beneath the counter. He reached inside to pull it out, but his hand froze on the bottle of Tylenol. Something suddenly occured to him. When Amy arrived a few minutes ago, she had told him she had a headache, but over the past few minutes he'd been standing there arguing with her, he noticed something more. Something else was wrong with her. Something else was physically wrong with her, but she had been trying hard to cover it up. If she took this Tylenol, and she had already taken a hit or two of a drug as toxic as cocaine, it was possible that things could backfire, and in a big way.
Leaving the bottle of Tylenol in it's original place, he pivoted on his heels and exited the bathroom, but stopped dead in his tracks the minute he stepped back into his bedroom. "Jesus!"
His heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he saw Amy, lying unconscious on the floor. His stomach turned, and his heart began to pound fiercely in his chest as he hurried to her side.
He dropped to his knees, giving her a firm shake, "Amy? Amy!" Placing two fingers to her neck, he felt for a pulse.
No pulse.
"Christ!" Getting up from his place beside his daughter, he rushed to the phone beside his bed. He grabbed it off its base and quickly dialed 9-1-1. After putting it on speakerphone, he dashed back to Amy's side. Setting both of his hands onto her chest cavity, he instantly began administering cardiopulmonary resuscitation. "God damn it Amy! You're not going to die on me. Come on sweetheart, come on!" Tears were already welling up in his eyes, but he tried as he might to keep his emotions at bay. He couldn't get emotional over this. He couldn't lose control of himself or he might end up losing her.
When the operator came over the line, Christian immediately told them he needed an ambulance, and quickly explained the situation to the woman on the other line. He didn't mention anything about the drugs being a possible cause for her heart stopping. They'd probably find out once they got her to the emergency room. As he continued fighting to save his daughter's life, he had to be thankful he didn't live but a mere five minutes away from Dade County. He thought about running to get his medical bag, hoping to find something that might help her, but if he didn't keep the blood and oxygen to her heart flowing, those five minutes waiting for the paramedics to arrive could cost the both of them.
About three minutes later, the paramedics arrived. Christian alerted them that the door was unlocked, and two men hurried inside, medical boxes in hand. The shorter of the two carried a stretcher. Once they had set up their equipment, Christian informed them that he was a doctor and insisted that they let him take control of the situation. Neither one of them had any complaints. The paramedics hooked Amy up to a heart monitor, and Christian immediately took hold of the paddles from the defibrilator machine. Placing them onto Amy's bare chest, he gave her a jolt, hoping to get her heart beating again.
There was no effect from the first jolt, so Christian gave her a second one, all the while, praying that his efforts weren't in vain.
After the second jolt was given, a heatbeat began being traced out on the monitor. An allieviated sigh escaped Christian. An IV was administered and an oxygen mask was placed over Amy's nose and mouth. The paramedics checked her blood pressure, pulse, and temperature while Christian listened to her heart and lungs with a stethoscope. He told the paramedics to inject a drug into Amy's IV, and once they decided she was stable enough, they laid her onto the stretcher, and moved her out to the ambulance.
Christian rode with them to Dade County, holding Amy's hand in his the whole trip there. Everything seemed to be going all right, until they arrived. As the paramedics started unloading her from the truck, her heart suddenly began skipping beats, and the rate of her heart increased drastically. Christian's own heart skipped a beat when he saw what had become of her condition, and insisted they hurry to get her inside. They didn't need to be told twice, they were already whisking Amy off towards the emergency room entrance. Christian dashed after them.
The gurney Amy was lying on breezed through the emergency room doors, and a group of doctors and nurses immediately flocked to it. The paramedics quickly gave the doctors information on the status of Amy's condition. Christian tried to keep up with the rest of them, but the gurney disappeared inside a large trauma room just seconds before he could reach it. Nonetheless, he continued after them and stepped inside the room a moment later. There was no way he was going to leave his daughter's side. Especially not when she was in such serious condition.
He watched intently as the short, hespanic and brown-haired doctor took the defibrilator paddles from a crash cart, and gave Amy a jolt. There was no change in her heartbeat so a second jolt was administered. The doctor called out an order for a drug to be administered into Amy's IV, and another doctor informed the team that the oxygen in her blood was dropping. She needed oxygen, but more importantly, her heartbeat needed to slow down. Two jolts hadn't done it, so once more, the hispanic doctor gave her another jolt, more powerful than the last.
As Christian stood there watching the scene unfold before him, he tried as he might to keep himself from emoting the tears that were already welling up in his eyes. There were far too many emotions inside him at the moment. So many emotions that he couldn't even begin to interpret any of them. His head and his heart were pounding, pounding out of worry, pounding out of fear. He began pacing back and forth restlessly, his eyes never leaving his daughter. Crossing his arms firmly over his chest, he felt his hands clench into fists. Finally, he took notice of the heart monitor and saw her heart had once again, returned to a normal rate. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding in. This was getting tougher and tougher for him to watch.
A handheld squeeze bag attached to a face mask was placed over Amy's nose and mouth, and a blonde haired, blue-eyed nurse--stationed at the head of the gurney---began pumping it to give her oxygen. The hispanic doctor took the black stethoscope from behind his neck, put the tips into his ears and placed the disc onto Amy's chest. A moment later, the man took off his stethoscope and informed the nurses of the many tests he wanted done. They followed the doctor's orders and made note of the tests.
"I want a tox screen." Christian cut in.
It wasn't until now that the hispanic doctor turned his head, and met eyes with him. All of a sudden, Christian stopped pacing, realizing he in fact knew this man. His name was Dr. Miguel Salvio. In the past, he had referred a patient or two to McNamara/Troy, and over the last couple of years, he and Sean had became friends with him. "Christian, does this girl belong to you?"
"Yes Miguel, she does. Her name is Amy Gellar. She's...she's my daughter."
Miguel brows furrowed in consideration, "daughter?" He seemed a bit surprised but nodded his head in regard. "I never knew you had a daughter."
"Neither did I." Christian exhaled sharply. His eyes roamed back over to his daughter, "h-how is she doing?"
"She'll be fine. I promise, we're going to take good care of her," Miguel assured him. The man stole a glance over at the nurse beside him, who was busying herself with checking Amy's blood pressure. "Let's also order a tox screen. Keep her on fifteen liters of oxygen by mask, and keep an eye on her EKG. I want her vitals monitored around the clock. If she goes into V-Tach, I want her moved up to the CICU." The nurse nodded in regard.
"I'd like to be notified of the results as soon as her labs come back."
"Oh I guarantee you, Dr. Troy, you'll be the first to know about it." Miguel told him.
He sighed softly, but the reassurance that he'd be notified didn't make it any easier on him. With each passing second, he was fearing his daughter might have another relapse, more drastic than the last, but he tried as he might to keep his hopes up. Suddenly, an eerie feeling came over him. That eerie feeling a person tended to get when they felt they were being watched. His brows stitched together in consideration. He stole a glance over his shoulder, but his gaze instantly turned stone cold at what he saw. There, standing on the opposite side of the window on the plexi glass door, was Kimber.
Bitch!
The moment he made eye contact with her, Kimber instantly backed away from the window, whirled around and scurried off in the opposite direction. Without giving it any thought to what she was even doing here, Christian turned around, threw the door open and stalked after her. There was no way in hell she was getting away that easily. He knew she had something to do with this, and he was going to put an end to it right now. He caught up to her just as she was about to turn the corner. After a quick glance around the area, he reached out, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her aside.
"Hey! What--Christian!" Kimber cried out.
He dragged her around a corner, away from the hustle and bustle of the crowded trauma unit. They were somewhere in-between a supply closet and an exam room. However, from the darkness behind the horizontal blinds, it appeared as if no one was using it. Kimber demanded for him to let her go, but he ignored her pleas and dragged her inside the dark room, slamming the door behind him. "What the hell are you doing here? Huh?" He demanded. He waited for her to reply, but all she did was stare at him in vexation. "Answer me God damn it!"
Kimber's brows stitched together incriminatingly. "I was here visiting a friend," she snapped. "What business is it of yours?"
"Oh that's bullshit! Visiting hours ended two hours ago, sweetheart, so unless you were off giving the male nurses rub and tugs to score some quick cash, that's a crock of shit."
"Is that really all I am to you, Christian? A whore?"
Ignoring her question, he posed his own line of questions. "What the hell were you doing outside of that trauma room? Enjoying your own God damn handy work?"
"What are you talking about? I already told you, I came to visit a friend. I never said that friend was an actual patient. I was on my way out when I noticed the paramedics bringing in a girl that looked a lot like Amy. I didn't know what was going on, but I thought I'd at least check to see if she was okay."
"Did it look like she was okay?" He bellowed, so loud that Kimber jumped in fright.
Kimber said nothing. She simply looked awkwardly down at the floor.
Reaching out, he grabbed both of her arms, and urged her towards him. "You did this to her, Kimber! Don't you try and deny it. You went after her. You poisioned her! You turned her into a God damn coke whore! Why did you do it? Huh? Was it to get to me? Or was this just another form of revenge to get back at me?"
Kimber stared back at him, struggling to free herself from his grasp. "I didn't go after Amy, Christian! We met in your office a few weeks ago. I just thought she needed a friend. She was so miserable. She had no self-confidence. You obviously couldn't see that, but I did. I was just trying to help her."
His grip on her arms grew tighter as he gave her a firm shake. "Help her?" He shouted. "Help her do what? Destroy her life? Put her into a God damn coma?"
"No! Why would I do that?"
"Because it's exactly what you're good at, Kimber. You're poision! You want to destroy your life, go right ahead, but the moment you started destroying my daughter's life, you crossed the line!"
"Look, all I did was offer her one little hit of coke. She didn't have to accept it, but she did. I never thought she'd become addicted to the stuff, but if it was helping to get rid of her problems, who was I to stop her?"
"Is that what you told her? That it would help get rid of all her problems?" When Kimber didn't say anything, he had his answer. "Jesus Christ! She could die because of the shit you did to her. You probably gave her a God damn heart attack!"
Kimber scowled. "I never wanted to hurt her."
"It's a little too late for that, don't you think?" He cried, as he released her from his grasp, and gave her a shove in the opposite direction. The impact made her waver on her heels for a few seconds. "You went after Amy because you knew, in your sick and deranged mind, that hurting her would ultimately hurt me. If I didn't love you, you'd take your aggression out on the one person I loved more than you." Uttering those last words was harder than he anticipated, so much so that his voice started to shake with emotion. The tears were stinging his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He wouldn't let this bitch get the best of him.
The scowl remained on Kimber's face, staring back at him in vexation. "How many times do I have to tell you? I didn't go after her to hurt you, Christian, I just wanted to be her friend! Do you really think I would intentionally hurt her like that?"
"You once tied me up and tried to cut my dick with a knife, sweetheart. You're damn right I do!" He reached out, gripping her chin tightly in his hand, and gazing sinsterly into her eyes. "I'll tell you one thing though. If she dies, I swear, I'll make sure you get put away for the rest of your God damn life."
Kimber paused before finally uttering a reply. "That's right Christian, once. It was a one time thing that FYI, you had coming. It never would have happened if you hadn't traded me for a God damn car! Look, I'm sorry I hurt her, but what more do you want me to say? I never intended for any of this to happen."
"And there's not a chance in hell I'll ever let it happen again." He released her chin, but a split second later, he grabbed a hold of her arms, and once again, yanked her back in his direction. Through his already clenched teeth, he snarled, "if you so much as come within a five mile radius of her, the cops will be the least of your worries, because not a damn thing will keep you safe from me."
She said nothing, but narrowed her eyes incriminatingly at him until he finally let her go. Turning on his heels, he started towards the door. He pulled the door open, but paused in the doorway when he heard her voice. "You're going to report me?" She cried.
Christian stole a glance over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming with vexation. "Either stay the hell away from my daughter or deal with me! It's your choice." Without giving her the chance to utter another word, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. So hard that the horizontal blinds rattled violently, and nearly broke free from their hinges.
This was Kimber's fault. The whole damn thing was her fault. He was appauled that the bitch had actually shown up here, and he didn't buy her bullshit excuse for being here either. Unless she really was giving out rub and tugs to the hospital staff, there was no reason for her to be here at almost ten thirty at night. She sure as hell wasn't sick or dying. It didn't make a damn bit of sense to him. He had enough confidence in himself that he'd put a good scare into her, but if she had any sense at all, she would never come near his daughter again.
By the time he got back to the trauma unit where Amy had been treated, she was already gone, and Dr. Salvio was nowhere in sight. A woeful sigh escaped him, but he knew that the only explaination for her disappearance was so they could begin running tests. He didn't need to be a psychic to know that Amy's labs would uncover what he already knew. His heart constricted in his chest. He knew he would probably be seeing her a little later, but he wished he could have at least seen her before they had wheeled her off. He wished he could have taken her hand, kissed her forehead, and softly assured her that he was still here. That he would remain here until she recovered.
He planted his hands on his hips, and slowly began heading in the direction of the waiting room. A deep scowl crossed his face, recalling back to the the past few hours, but the thing that stood out in his mind was the fight he'd had with Amy, just before she'd collapsed. It broke his heart just thinking about it, and the hurtful things he had said to her. If something went wrong, if she died, he didn't want that to be the last conversation he'd ever have with her.
No, she wasn't going to die. She couldn't. He wouldn't allow it to happen, damn it! She was a fighter. Hell, she was a Troy! She was going to be fine, she just had to be.