Authors Note: Isn't it funny how when I get more reviews than usual and faster, I update quicker? Huh. Amazing ;)

Anyway, I love you guys and your reviews! You're awesome . . . just plain wonderful. A true joy to have as a reader. Ahem. I think I'm getting choked up a bit, hahah. CONTINUE.

Chapter Twenty Three

Distress

That deep, never ending blackness was stark in contrast to the hospital room I was in now. All I could see was white, white, white. It seemed to stem from everything. The walls were washed in it, the tiles of the floor gleamed in it, the blankets pulled up to my waist were even the same pale color.

Did I ever mention how much I hated hospitals?

Closing my eyes once more I tried to block out the overwhelming brightness, willing myself to fall back asleep. What was done, however, was done. Curling deeper into the pillows propped under my head, I felt my eyes squeeze tighter together in concentration, as I tried to remember what exactly had woken me up.

I think it might have had something to do with the whole:

"Son, you need to take a break."

Shut up.

"No. I'm not leaving."

I'm trying to sleep.

"She hasn't woken up yet. I'm sure a few minutes outside of this room won't make much of a difference. Please. Being cooped up in here isn't doing your health any good. Go outside. Take a breather. Soak in some sunshine or something."

I need quiet.

"Why do you want me gone so badly? Is there something wrong with her?"

Keep your mouth shut.

"Max is fine. She took quite a bump to the head is all. Her brain is just trying to give her some recovery time. She'll be fine."

Then why don't you let me recover and stop talking?

"Look, with all due respect sir, I'm good where I am for now."

Where you need to be is silent.

"I'm sure she'll find you waiting by her bedside very chivalrous. I'm not sure her waking up to find you looking like that will give you any points, though."

I'm going to punch somebody.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

It means shut up, shut up, shut up.

"Well, when's the last time you showered?"

Ooh, burn. Now shut up.

Chair scraping. Footsteps. Door opening. Pause. Door closing.

. . . Silence.

Yeah, that might have been it.

Groaning I rolled flat onto my back, eyes fluttering open to take in the -white- plastered ceiling. Deciding sleep was futile I did a quick inventory check instead. Beneath the blanket my toes seemed to still be wiggling, my legs moving, and my hips swaying. I didn't have any broken fingers and my arms seemed in working order as well. I was a little sore though, and I could see patches of gauze sticking out from my hospital gown; places where I must have gotten knifed or something. Beautiful.

My stomach began gurgling, growling for food. I wondered briefly when they were planning on feeding me. My next thought though, was something more along the lines of: who the hell landed me in this place and why?

Sometimes my mind worked a little backwards. I'm sure the apparent smash to the head wasn't helping much, either.

"Oh good, you're awake," a pleasant voice said from the doorway. I looked up to see a young-ish looking man standing just inside the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Equipped with a white coat and an impeccably official looking clipboard, I was guessing he was my doctor.

"I thought so, too," I replied snarkily, adjusting the pillows behind me so I could sit up. My limbs ached as I moved, and I could feel my various wounds pricking. I was used to it from street fighting though, so it barely fazed me.

"They warned me you would be incredibly sarcastic and grumpy when you woke up," he said with a smirk, approaching my bedside. He fiddled with a few tubes, checking my vitals or something. I watched as he examined the dripping IV's, making a few notes on his clipboard as he went through the process.

"Yeah, well." I shrugged.

"That boy won't be very happy with me, though," he remarked, clicking the small flashlight he held. He pointed the light into my eyes, and I followed the beam like a good girl, although albeit a bit boredly.

"What boy?" I asked, pulling up my hospital gown like he motioned for me to do.

He began to peel away the bloodstained wrappings there as he responded: "Dark hair. Pretty big. Kind of scary, actually. Weird name. Something to do with a tooth . . .?"

"Fang," I breathed, biting my lip as the cold hair washed over the three jagged lines that started about mid-ribcage and ended at my waist. Ouch. That sucker had gotten me good. The cuts weren't very deep though, as far as I could tell. That must have been all he could get in before Fang showed up.

"Yeah, that's it. That kid didn't leave your side for the forty eight hours or so you were out cold. He didn't even do anything. He just sat in that chair and stared at you. Watched TV sometimes too, I guess. He even slept there. That's one dedicated boyfriend."

I didn't feel the urge to correct him.

We didn't talk much after that. I closed my eyes and leaned back, letting him do his job without further complaint, which was very unlike me. I kinda liked Dr. Lawrence, as his name tag called him, though. He wasn't like most doctors I had encountered, so it was the least I could do. Besides, he provided me with a lot of answers in a short amount of time.

I could feel myself wincing slightly every few seconds, as he applied the necessary medical remedies to my lacerations. Biting my lip, I trudged through it. There was no use crying and complaining. That didn't make the pain go away. When the last of the gauze was taped up tight and kissing my tortured skin though, I couldn't help but feel relieved.

"There you go, Ms. Ride. All set," he announced with a flourish, stepping back to admire his work. I tugged the gown back down to cover my exposed torso, curiously wondering why he didn't just have a nurse do this instead, if that was all that needed to be done.

"Thanks doc," I replied, not akin to questioning him.

"Well, somebody seems to be in a better mood," he commented, smiling genuinely. I rolled my eyes, allowing some of my good ole' teenage attitude to shine through. Wouldn't want him getting the wrong impression, or anything.

"I'll just go get your mom, and tell her you aren't showing any signs of amnesia. She'll probably be in to see you shortly," he informed me, heading for the door.

When the door had shut softly behind him I immediately sank back down, closing my eyes. A sudden wave of fatigue had hit me about mid-way through his inspection, and any moment of peace I got from there on out was welcome.

I was just beginning to drift into a fitful sleep when the creak of the door invaded my senses once more. Groaning, my eyes opened to slits, glaring at whoever had interrupted my napping. The minute I saw who it was though, my expression was wiped clean of any such emotion.

"Fang," I stated, fully alert now. When he heard my voice he hurried his pace, until he was standing right next to me, hands gripping the edge of the hospital bed in a death hold.

"Max," he said in much the same way, his tone gruff, but his eyes soft as he stared down at me. Then: "That son of a bitch doctor told me you weren't going to wake up while I was gone."

I laughed, throwing my head back. After a few minutes of this I managed to calm myself into a grin, reaching out to put my hand over his. Loosening his fingers from where they dug into the hard plastic of the rail I laced them through my own. A second after this I realized what I had done, but the subtle expression of elation on his face had me biting back any qualms towards my insintctual actions.

"How long have you been up?" he inquired, his usual cool, calm and collected exterior breaking through and settling into its normal place. I knew that as time wore on, his overly emotional facade would fade. I, personally, liked it better that way. Fang was more suited to being stony and silent.

"Not too long. He changed the dressings on my cuts, and that's about it," I explained, settling back down into a more comfortable position. Fang followed suit, perched on the edge of the mattress.

"I was worried about you," he admitted, hints of distress in his dark eyes. Other than that he seemed as perfectly placid as per usual. "I heard you yell, so I booked it towards where you disappeared. Whoever attacked you was too concealed for me to see who it was, though. They fled before I could do anything."

"So you didn't see who it was?" This made getting revenge a heck of a lot harder, especially since I had no idea who would have a personal vendetta against me all the way out here in Arizona. It's not like I had a lot of time to make enemies . . . yet.

"I would have followed him, but I was a little more concerned with the heavily bleeding, unconscious girl at my feet," he informed me with a smirk, nudging my shoulder.

I guess I could be thankful for that.

We lapsed into a comfortable silence, just staring at each other. I still didn't know what I was going to do about him, but for the time being it was easier to worry about other things. I'd try to figure the situation out at a point when I wasn't being hospitalized.

Suddenly he momentarily fiddled with a strand of blond hair that had fallen out of my ponytail, before tucking it behind my ear, his fingertips lingering on my skin for a few seconds longer than necessary. Leaning down he pressed his lips to mine, and I couldn't feasibly have any objections to that.

"The doctor said you stayed here the entire time I was out," I murmured between kisses, his silken lips trapping mine milliseconds after.

"Of course I did," he said nonchalantly, like it was to be expected of him.

For a moment I was able to forget about all the trouble still brewing between us, allowing myself to revel in the comfort he provided me with. This was Fang. There was still enough of the him I had known to salvage . . .

Maybe he hadn't really gone anywhere to begin with.

"Max," he whispered into my mouth.

"Hmh?"

"I love you."

I hesitated. "I-"

The door being pushed open cut me off, for which I was incredibly thankful. It was with much relief on my part, and a tad bit of reluctance on Fang's, that we pulled apart. He took a few safe steps away, still leaning on the bed.

A content looking Aunt Valencia appeared, comforted by whatever Dr. Lawrence must have told her . . . and speaking of the devil; he trailed in a few steps behind her, appearing a little more serene and professional than he did when handling me. I couldn't help but smirk a bit at this.

"Hey Aunt Val," I greeted her with a smile, allowing her to squeeze my hand. "Where's Mom? Isn't that who Doc was originally supposed to be getting?"

"She should be along in a few minutes," Aunt Val assured me, smoothing down my hair. I had to fight the urge to swat her hand away. She was probably going to be way over protective of me after this.

Great.

"Wait, what?" Dr. Lawrence interrupted, sounding confused. We all looked over at him, and he continued. "You're Valencia, aren't you?"

"Yes," she said slowly, brows furrowing. I was feeling about the same way.

"You're the one who donated the blood, right?" he asked, looking minutely anxious at this point. Glancing down he haphazardly flipped through the papers attached to his clipboard, flinging past charts with his scribbles on them.

"Yeah, I was the one. Rebecca didn't have the same blood type." Just as she was saying this, Mom appeared in the doorway, adding to the general hubbub and growing bewilderment of the entire room.

"What's going on?" she asked, stepping further inside. Her shoes clacked against the shining tiles. For some reason, that was something I took great clarity in. The sound her shoes made on the floor . . . Crazy.

"Well, I don't mean to distress anybody by any means, but according to the simple blood tests we had to take to find who had the proper types . . . Rebecca isn't her mother. Valencia is."

Authors Note: Oh snap. I think I'm earning back my title of Queen of Cliffhangers. What do you think?

I swear if one person even hints at having seen this coming you're either a true psychic or you're lying! Besides incredibly minute and subtle hints at Max and Val being extremely similar, there was nothing to have provided you with any suspicion about it. NOTHING.

P.S. What are your feelings knowing (now) that this story is ending in a mere seven chapters?