Okay, so rather than responding to everyone's reviews I decided to get this chapter up earlier, hope that's alright with everyone. Doesn't mean I'm not super grateful for all of them though! Because I am!

Ed left the room moments after the doctor. Between his headache and the stress of the night, he wanted some space and fresh air. He turned right out the door and walked to the nearest exit, which was almost visible from the room they had been set up in.

The doors were on a sensor and they opened as he approached. A blast of cooler air hit his face, but it felt nice against his hot jaw. It had been steadily raining when he entered the hospital. Puddles had formed and the trees shook from the wind, but it wasn't raining now.

There was a stone bench still dry due to the overhead above the entrance. He took the three paces or so to reach it and slowly relaxed into a seated position. His ribs still protested the movement. From there, he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees and his hands on his forehead, letting as deep of a breath as his pain threshold would allow him.

He hadn't called his wife yet. Sophie was asleep at this time of night. He agreed with Sarge, there was no need to alarm her by a phone call this late. Phone calls in the middle of the night were bad, especially when he was supposed to have been home hours ago. No call. He would send a text before she woke up telling her he was alright, then let her call him. That was the plan. He loved his wife and son more than anything under the sun, but he just wanted to be alone at the moment.

It sounded bad, that he didn't want his family with him. Right now, though, they were sleeping without any worries. He didn't want to interrupt that. Not to introduce them to the hell he had been in since he had gotten off shift.

It felt like days ago that Sam asked for a ride home. He should have said no. He hadn't even felt like driving him after the day, so why had he said yes? Sam would have made it home safely. He might have been bone tired at the end of his walk, but he would have been alright.

Next time someone asked for something from him, Ed was going to say no.

He lifted his head to stare into the parking lot. It was less than half full, dimly lit by the lampposts scattered throughout. There was no movement, little sound. It was the opposite from the store earlier in the night. It was restful.

Ed didn't feel rested. Not after the news he had just heard. He was supposed to have felt relief. The anxiety the bullet had created the moment it entered Sam's chest should have abated when he found out that his teammate was still alive. This was when he should go home and sleep.

He couldn't though. He couldn't go home. He couldn't leave the hospital. His body and mind craved the idea of calling a taxi and sleeping through his day off tomorrow. His conscience had him sitting on this bench with one hell of a headache and sore ribs to boot.

He was fine. He hadn't even been admitted. The doctor had shone a penlight into his eyes, made sure he was all there mentally, ran a few tests, and kicked him out. He was fine, just a few bumps and bruises.

Thunder rumbled overhead, which caused Ed to look up just as it began to downpour. Even under the covering, the wind pushed some droplets onto his shoes and pants. He should go inside, but it would take more than a little water to convince him of that.

Everyone had emotions, and Ed was fully equipped to deal with them. He talked possible jumpers down from the ledge and angry gunmen to surrender. Just because he knew how, though, did not mean that he was inclined to join the storm of emotion brewing in the small room.

He could feel the static in the air when he had first entered. Jules and Wordy had joined Sarge, Lou and Spike. He hadn't talked much to Spike and Lou before he drove with Sarge to the hospital. He only insured that he was alright after speaking one last time to Garret before he was carted to the police station.

Before he had anything to say, Jules had jumped up and put a little too much pressure on his chest. It had taken him by surprise, and he could see the hurt in her eyes when she jumped away with an apology on her lips. At the time he hadn't considered it much before looking for answers. Surely the team would have known by then if Sam was dead.

But they didn't know anything, so he sat down and added his own charge to the growing storm. After the doctor had come in, he decided the real storm outside was a better alternative. He exited before he could hear the response from any of his teammates, before the Boss could tell him that there was nothing he could have done, before Jules's calm mask cracked, before the news had really sunk in.

A hand on his shoulder brought Ed out of his reverie. He glanced up as Wordy made to sit next to him on the bench. He didn't say anything right away. Ed appreciated this, but he could feel Wordy waiting for him to start the conversation.

"He gonna be alright," was his concession.

"The doctors seem hopeful. Are you alright?"

Ed didn't look over at his friend, but he knew Wordy's eyes were directed into the parking lot, as were his own. He didn't like the question.

"I'm fine."

"Good. I was worried about you. I talked to Lou and he wasn't sure how you were doing before I got here. I'm glad you're fine."

"Me too."

They both were quiet for a little. If it had been anyone other than Wordy, apart from maybe the Boss, he would not have enjoyed the company. But because it was him, the companionship was nice. The silence was nice. Still, he was the one who broke it.

"Sam should be out of surgery soon," he offered.

Another pause.

"There was nothing you could have done. Sometimes things just happen. You did everything right in there, and Sam's alive because of that." Wordy had turned to look at him at this point, and Ed wished he had left the silence as it was. It was better than this conversation.

He nodded though. "I know that."

It was a lie, what Wordy had said. He hadn't even been there. Sarge, who also was not in that store, had probably relayed the most important events to Wordy before Ed had come into the room. He had no idea what had happened within the walls, what Ed had said and what he hadn't said.

"You didn't shoot the gun, right? Or tell them to?"

Ed looked over, starting to get angry.

"I'm just sayin'. It's not your fault. There was nothing you could've done."

"I'm fine, Wordy," he said, looking into the parking lot again wishing Wordy would leave now. He didn't feel like arguing about details right now, nor did he want to accept blind truths.

"Good," the other man accepted. Ed could tell that he didn't believe him. But Wordy was perceptive, and he stopped talking.

It was cold outside and his wet feet didn't help matters much. His head was still throbbing and each time he inhaled brought another wave of pain. He was fine though. He wasn't in surgery, wasn't admitted into the hospital. Relatively, he was doing great. He hadn't died today, not like two of the subjects including Tyler or the elderly man. He didn't even know his name, just that he started losing consciousness almost as fast as Sam. They looked about the same by the end, even if one made it and the other didn't.

Wordy was right about one thing. Sam was alive, unlike those three people. The doctor said that they were optimistic, that as long as there were no complications things would be alright. Despite everything he had been through this night, Sam was going to pull through. The doctor had said a lot more before he left, but the fact that his friend was going to make it was the only thing that stood out in his mind.

"You look tired," Wordy eventually said.

Ed nodded. "It's been a long night."

That was the only admission Wordy was going to get from him tonight. He wasn't going to play the sniveling victim because that was not him. He was Team One's leader. He could handle being a part of a hostage situation. Even he, though, could admit that the night's events were exhausting. That was the only admission of weakness he was willing to speak of.

"Want to go get some coffee? They have a machine down the hall."

At this point, any stimulation would help. Maybe the caffeine would help his headache as well. He stood up. Wordy must have interpreted this as a yes because he stood up with a small smile. Ed noticed that Wordy's feet had gotten wet in the rain as well, the other man's dark denim pants matching his own. When they entered the building, both men's shoes squelched against the white tile. Ed kept his pace slower than his average gait to accommodate his ribs. Wordy acted as though it was his usual speed.

"Everyone still in there?" Ed gestured to the room gingerly with his head as he poured the black coffee into a Styrofoam cup. The coffee pot was stained a questionable color, but Ed was beyond caring. He didn't even test the temperature before his first sip.

"Jules took Lou and Spike to go get their cars at the station. Lou and Spike are coming back when visiting hours start. Jules said she'd be back," Wordy said as he poured a cup for himself.

"Just the Boss then?"

"Just you, me, and Sarge for now," he confirmed.

The two started back to the waiting room, but it turned out that they didn't have to go that far. Sarge exited just when the door came into sight. The look on his face alarmed the pair, even more so when a nurse followed him out. Ed moved fast now.

"What happened?"

The Boss looked like he was about to speak. He opened his mouth and everything when the nurse next to him burst in.

"Are you Ed Lane?" She looked to him.

"Yeah, what happened?" he asked again. A dark pit in his stomach grew when they had not immediately answered his question. It was either that or the urgency in both their expressions and her voice.

"Mr. Braddock is in recovery right now. We were waiting to move him to a room until he woke up, but he's agitated at the moment. This is normal for patients, and we prefer not to sedate him at the moment. He's asking for you and he's very confused." The nurse spoke as she headed to where Ed assumed the recovery room was. "I understand you two were in a hostage situation?"

Ed nodded.

The nurse made a rather condescending tutting sound as she swiped a card to enter the room. "That would make sense," she spoke more to herself. "Understand that Mr. Braddock has just been through a very serious surgery. Only Mr. Lane can see him at the moment." The last part of her sentence was directed to Wordy and the Boss, who had followed them all this way.

They offered no argument, but Sarge but a hand on Ed's shoulder. He met his gaze before speaking. "It wasn't your fault, Ed."

There was nothing to say to that, though, so Ed nodded again and moved into the room leaving his sergeant and teammate outside. He went through the procedure of donning a yellow cap and gown before moving to the line of beds, not thinking of how Clark would laugh his head off to see his father dressed like he was.

He spotted Sam right away. He was the only occupied bed, for starters, but there was no mistaking the blond for anyone else. He moved quickly over to the bed, where Sam rolled slightly, groaning. His eyes were half opened, undecipherable words coming out of his mouth from under an oxygen mask.

The mask was just one of the contraptions holding Sam down to the bed. From the way he moved though, Ed doubted he knew this. For less than a second, Ed stood awkwardly by the bed, unsure of what to do.

"Make sure he knows that you're here," the nurse chided in a softer tone. Ed had almost forgotten about her, but he moved to follow her advice.

"Hey, Sam. I'm glad you're okay," Ed said in a stronger voice than he felt inside. Sam definitely did not look okay. Ed moved to hold his shoulder down onto the bed. It couldn't be healthy for Sam to be moving that way.

He shouldn't have bothered.

The moment he spoke Sam froze. His glazed eyes moved unfocused back and forth until they settled on Ed. His hand moved up to the mask before Ed stopped him.

"Leave that on," he said, looking to the nurse in confirmation. She, however, had taken a step back to give them a moment of privacy. She was back at her desk area, which was about ten feet away. She pretended not to be listening.

Beneath the mask, there was no mistaking the way Sam's lips formed his name, confusion written on his face. His hand moved to his own jaw, trying to convey the message.

"I'm fine, Sam. Just relax. We're both fine."

It felt like he had uttered those words far too many times today, but for the first time somebody actually believed him. Sam lowered his hand down to the bed as if it weighed far more than it did before blinking slowly. His entire body obey Ed's request, relaxing under his words.

Ed didn't know what to say, but he doubted Sam would even understand his words if he did speak. His head had fallen to the side with lax muscles. Ed watched his breath fog up the mask. It should have worried him more, to see his friend like this, but anything was better than before. No blood seeped through his shirt. Sam looked pale, but definitely not the grey color from before. He looked bad, but he definitely looked better.

It took him seeing his teammate with his own eyes for his exposed nerves to finally be soothed. In any other situation, watching another man fall asleep would have been beyond awkward, but it was comforting to see him alive and breathing better than he had before. His pulse and blood pressure, displayed on a monitor hooked up over the bed, showed his vitals returning to what Ed assumed were normal after being shot. The nurse stepped forward again.

"Thank you. I tried to talk to him, but he was working himself up. We'll have him moved to a regular room shortly."

Ed knew a dismissal when he heard one. He let his hand rest on Sam's arm for just a moment before heading out of the recovery room discarding the precautionary measures feeling slightly numb, but overall better.

Wordy and Sarge were waiting in chairs a few yards away from the double door. The stood as soon as they saw him. "How's he doing?" Sarge asked.

"Looks like he's going to be okay," Ed kept it short. He didn't want to talk about Sam's reaction to them right now. "The nurse said they'll be moving him to a room pretty soon."

The Boss watched him carefully for any hidden emotion, but Ed maintained his mask, the one he had worn for most of the night. Even if he wanted to show emotion at the moment, he didn't think his jaw would like that idea too much. The pain only increased as he continued to talk. It felt swollen and unnatural connected to his face.

After being reassured that Sam was going to be alright, Ed felt the adrenalin that had kept his mind and body running all night began to fade. He tried to hide the fact that his hands were shaking by putting them in his pockets.

"It sounds like he's out of the woods," Wordy said. "Why don't I give you a ride home?"

It took a little bit of talking for Wordy to convince him to accept the ride. It was still less than it normally would have. Ed knew he should have argued a little more, but he wasn't up for it. He followed Wordy out to his car with the assurance that Sarge was going to stay until he saw Sam when visiting hours started after he was moved into a room. Jules should be getting back pretty soon as well. It had taken her longer than he would have thought already. He knew she wasn't obeying the speed limit.

Ed didn't speak until Wordy dropped him off at his place. He gave a small thanks before hefting himself out of the car. He cut through the grass to his front door, waving Wordy off. He shook his head as he drove off, unlocking the door.

It was nearing five in the morning at this point. He'd been out for almost twenty four hours, and he felt every single one of them. He kicked off of his shoes and walked quietly up the stairs into the bedroom. His clothes were still stained with blood. The first thing he did was dispose of them and get into something cleaner and more comfortable.

He entered the bathroom and scrubbed his stained hands with soap until they felt raw. Then he opened the cabinet behind his mirror and popped a few pills of ibuprofen. Every single knock of the day made itself present as he took a moment to rest against the sink.

He kept seeing Sam bleeding out through the ski mask. He kept seeing Garrets scared face, Tyler's dead body sprawled out on the floor. The old man wheezing from the effects of the CS gas. Images of the night were almost more powerful than that of himself in the mirror. The only thing that allowed for him to focus on the reflection was his jaw, blue and twice its normal size.

Ed turned off the light before exiting the bathroom and walking through the dark to his side of the bed. He lowered himself slowly so as not to wake his sleeping wife. She still rolled slightly under the shift in the bed. He moved over to her and let one arm drape over her smaller form.

In the morning, he would have to deal with all of the questioning, from the police, from his wife. Maybe even Sam if he was alert enough, depending on what he remembered. There were consequences from this night, but Ed was not going to deal with them right now.

He allowed himself to breathe as deeply as he could comfortably, relaxing in the familiar position. Everything could wait until morning.

Alright, I know you had to wait a little longer for this chapter. Worth the wait? What do you think? I even added some Sam in this chapter! Please keep reviewing. You guys are amazing!