Chapter Two
"How's she doing, Doc?" Dr. Franklin let out a sigh and turned to look at Zack, who seemed to have taken it upon himself to act as her next-of-kin since she had first gained consciousness that morning.
"Physically, I'd say she'll probably make a full recovery. Mentally, though…that's harder to say, but that's not my area of expertise. I'm treating her for shock and I've put her on suicide watch," the doctor whispered to him.
"Suicide watch?" Zack echoed incredulously, somehow managing to keep his voice quiet even though he felt like shouting. "Why? Has she tried to hurt herself?" The doctor shook his head.
"Not yet—it's more of a precaution right now, but I'm really concerned. She's been muttering to herself, saying 'I shouldn't be alive' and a lot of things like that. Given her situation, I'm not really surprised she feels that way."
Hearing this did nothing to soothe Zack's nerves; he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, staring through the window into the room where Amy was lying down. At the moment she was sleeping, and the security officer felt slightly relieved to see that some of the pain had eased from her face.
"How long will she have to stay here in Medlab?" Zack asked. This brought an uncomfortable squirm out of the doctor as he studied her chart.
"Well…that's actually a bit of a problem," Dr. Franklin admitted, avoiding Zack's eyes by turning his own to the patient. "With the Narn colonies and outposts being attacked, we need all the space we can get for the wounded that keep coming in, but I don't want to release her in her current frame of mind."
While the security officer was searching for a reply, he looked up and saw that Amy's eyes were open and turned in his direction. Ignoring the doctor's quiet protests, he walked in the room and gently took her hand in his.
"Hey," she mumbled, struggling to pull herself into a sitting position.
"Easy," Zack whispered as he helped her up, studying her intently. She had lost the look of blind panic she had worn that morning, but in its place a whirlwind of emotions had settled in—pain, loss, grief, shock, disbelief, and others he couldn't identify. She closed her eyes for several moments before looking at him again.
"Get me outta here," she said quietly, her voice too low for anyone else to hear. He met her gaze again, and her eyes begged him to help her, speaking volumes without words; she needed this for the sake of her pain, her grief—her sanity.
"I'll talk to Dr. Franklin," he promised her, squeezing her hand slightly before letting go. For a moment, he wondered how she could possibly trust him so implicitly—that she would be so willing to put herself at the mercy of a complete stranger—before he saw the utter emptiness in her eyes. A shudder ran through his spine as the truth hit him with the force of a fusion bomb; it wasn't that she trusted him…she just didn't care.