Ryan pulled up near the condo amid the flurry of squad cars and ambulances. He got out and slammed his door shut, scared out of his mind. He pulled aside a random cop and asked him about the commotion.
"The suspect opened fire." He replied hurriedly, running off to report to a superior. Ryan ran a hand through his hair, wondering how to find Keats amid the chaos of cops and paramedics.
"CSI Wolfe!" He heard someone shout. He turned to the sound and saw Det. Berkeley run toward him, his hand wrapped in thick gauze.
"Berkeley, what happened to Keats?" He said. He could feel his heart racing.
"She's on her way to the hospital. Capt. Erickson has offered to escort us there."
"I appreciate the offer, Detective, but tell Erickson that I can't wait." Ryan said as he ran to his hummer.
Ryan arrived at the hospital in record time. His steps sounded harsh to his own ears. They were brisk and unsure, a perfect reflection of his inner emotions. He bounded up to the front desk, barking questions left and right.
"Can you tell me anything about her condition?" He asked. He felt helpless, ready to climb the walls. The excess adrenaline in his system made him want to pace endlessly. He rubbed his mouth nervously, scraping a hole in the linoleum with his constant treading.
"Officer Wolfe, I'm Dr. Livingstone." An elderly man with a pair of tortoise-shell glasses shook his hand and opened a patient file.
"Ms. Remington is going to be fine. We were concerned at first that the bullet was lodged in the lumbar region of her vertebral column, but it only did surface damage. Tell her to keep wearing belts, though. That's what saved her life."
When he was finally permitted to see her less than an hour later, Ryan walked into hospital room 208 with a dozen roses under one arm, purchased from the hospital gift shop. He noticed Keats wasn't in bed.
"Remington, what are you doing?" He asked. Keats was pulling on her slacks, trying to tug the IV out of her arm.
"I'm not staying in here, that's for sure," she mumbled, "And who are you calling Remington? You're always so quick to tell me that I'm Mrs. Wolfe."
"Whoever you are, you need to stay here until you're discharged." He said, latching onto her arm before she ran out of the room. He hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her back to the bed.
"But I don't want to." She said in a tiny voice. Her back stung like the dickens but surely convicting the man who shot her would take her mind off of it. It was definitely too logical for someone like Ryan to understand.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed impatiently.
"Keats, I'll chain you to the bed if I have to." Ryan said, grabbing her legs and placing them back on the bed. Keats smiled coyly.
"So do it." She said, kissing him gently. He guided her closer, his hand at the back of her neck. Keats soon broke away, tottering off to find her pants.
"Chains are the only thing that's going to keep me from Miami Dade." She said triumphantly, hopping into her black slacks. Ryan wrapped his arms around her waist, preventing her from her ultimate goal. Her pants dropped in a pool at her ankles.
"Dammit, Wolfe. Why do you have to be so…" She whirled around and kissed him with fervor, amazed at the powerful chemistry between them. She had never experienced this with anyone. She ended the kiss with a sigh, hopping back into bed.
Horatio Caine tapped lightly on the door of room 208. His young charge had been injured in the line of duty and was more than ready to come back for more. Nothing could have made him prouder.
"June. I appreciate your tenacity. But I'm afraid that the hospital wants you to take it easy for awhile. They want you bedridden for the next week or so." He said, sitting near the edge of her hospital bed.
Ryan stood in the corner, absorbing the information for himself. He knew Keats was disinclined to listen. Bedridden? Me? Whatever happened to just taking it easy doing lab work…
"They'll let you go home, of course. But you're to stay home for 5-10 days. Spring Break is coming up, so I'm sure that'll leave you some time to relax…Get better, June. We need you back at the Lab." He ruffled her hair softly, in an almost paternal fashion.
He nodded toward Wolfe and headed out of the door, giving one last wave to Keats.
"As much as I respect everyone's opinion on the matter, I refuse to turn into a vegetable for a measly flesh wound!" She exclaimed. Ryan had since turned a deaf ear to her outspoken cries, doing his level best to distract her from such thoughts.
It wasn't easy. Keats was as stubborn as a mule.
After a few moments of Keats kicking furiously under the blankets, a nurse came in and told her she could go home.
Ryan stood behind her as Keats held up her hand near the reception desk. The nurse adjusted her glasses and snipped off her hospital bracelet, handing her the bill with a prim smile.
"Hospitals are so retro. Next time I get shot, I think I want a Shaman Priest to pray over me with a turtle-shell stick. It sure beats conventional medicine." She said. Ryan rolled his eyes and placed an arm around her waist as they walked to his silver hummer.
Keats was placed into bed, fussing and resisting all the way, until Ryan began undressing her with tender care. Keats leaned on her elbows with great interest.
"Don't you have to go back to work?" She murmured.
"Work can wait. I'm trying to give you some incentive to stay in the bed." He left a trail of kisses down her neck, working his way to her knees. He glanced up at her and rose from the bed, putting on his suit jacket.
"Save that thought, Keats. I'll be back in a few hours." He grinned, knowing exactly how furious he had made her. But he knew how to make it all better.
And he planned to do just that all night long.