Chapter 46 – Not leaving you

The doctor had asked him to wait. That was two hours ago. Brutus stared out the window onto the parking lot and tried to convince himself that no news was good news, while nurses and patients came and left the waiting room. He had considered calling Paul, but he wasn't sure he could handle all the questions and the sympathy right now. For the hundred and seventeenths time that afternoon, he left the window and slumped back into on of the padded chairs, and felt as sick as he had been when the hospital had called him at work three hours ago to let him know that his wife had been stabbed and was now undergoing lifesaving surgery.

First Dean, now her... Please, don't... Please, don't take her...

He scrambled to his feet again, unable to calm down. His body felt strangely heavy, but his head was empty, semi finished thoughts appearing and disappearing in a confused mess... they couldn't lose her after all this time could they?

... how the hell could this even happen!

... I shouted at the doctor on the phone, didn't I? Oh, Jesus...

... she won't die. She will fight... she will...

He should call someone. Paul... No not Paul. Her parents, for crying out loud! No, wait – he had already done that. They were on their way. Brutus couldn't remember what he had told them, but he remembered mrs. Brent's voice breaking, when she had told him that they would be there as soon as possible...

"Mr. Howell?"

Brutus spun around, his heart beating hard. The doctor came walking towards him. He was smiling.

She's not dead.

"Mr. Howell, your wife will be alright. She lost a lot of blood, but she stable now and the damage to the liver and the large intestine weren't as bad as we thought at first."

It felt as though two big hands had been removed from around his throat. He could breath again.

"Thank you," Brutus responded hoarsely. "Can I see her?"

"She's still asleep, but you can sit with her."

"Thank you," Brutus said again. The young doctor smiled.

oOo

Ellie had never been so tired in her life. Her eyelids felt like they were glued together. She could hear beeping from familiar machines, but it took forever for her to fight her way out of the darkness. A face came into view from her right, when she opened her eyes. It smiled. Before her brain had even recognized the warm half-smirk, she knew that she loved it.

"Hi," Brutus said softly.

She smiled back and whispered: "Hi yourself," with a weak voice. Brutus' chest heaved in a sudden relieved sigh and he grabbed her hand, her right one, the one that wasn't filled with I.V. tubes, in both of his and moved his chair as close to the bed as possible.

"D'you remember what happened?" he asked her.

As he said it, her mind was floated with fractions of reminiscences... the manic look in a dirty mans eyes... a knife flashing in the lights... Mary screaming... and the sensation of fire in her abdomen...

"He stabbed me," she recalled faintly. "The man in E.R."

Brutus' jaw clenched; he swallowed and nodded.

"But the doc says you're gonna to be fine," he assured her. "They are very optimistic. How are you feeling? Does it hurt?"

"I'm tired and dizzy," Ellie responded candidly and smiled at his worried look. "But I'm doped up on morphine, so that's pretty normal."

Brutus looked at her in silence. It could have been the lights, but his eyes looked brighter than usual. Ellie had never seen him cry before, not even when Dean had died, and she felt bad for being the one that attributed even more distress into his life.

He blinked and looked down at their hands.

"This last week," he began. "I know I've been distant and aloof and I'm sorry..."

"There's nothing to apologize for, hon," Ellie said. "It's grieve. It's not your fault. Just..." she squeezed his hand. "Don't shut me out again. He was my friend too."

Brutus cleared his throat violently. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Stop saying sorry."

"Sorry," he said, his old lopsided smile almost back in place. "Your parents are on their way. They should be here in an hour or so."

"Thank you. I think I will just close my eyes for a second, then. I can hardly keep them open."

"You just sleep, I'll wake you up when they arrive."

Her eyes closed, but moments later she opened them, looking at him with a slight frown.

"You're no going to do anything stupid, are you?"

"Like what?"

"Like going out looking for the man."

Brutus was quiet for a moment, absently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

"He's not here," he finally said. "They moved him to another hospital."

"So you have snooped around already?"

"Yes, I have, Ellie," Brutus said, his voice hardening. "I think I have the right to know what happened to the mad man who nearly killed my wife."

"No you do not," Ellie responded firmly. "It wasn't his fault. He was ill – exceedingly ill, possibly delusional, and he thought we were hurting him. He was scared to death."

She could tell by the look in his eyes that whatever she said, he wouldn't change his mind. She sighed.

"Forget about him," she said. "I'm still alive, am I not?"

"Not thanks to that fucking asshole," Brutus mumbled under his breath.

"Brutus!"

"Sorry – fucking arsehole."

She laughed very much against her will and Brutus' rigid features softened. She winced.

"Oh, don't make me laugh. It hurts like hell."

"A'right, I won't leave you," Brutus finally gave in. "Happy?"

She smiled. "Yes."

"But I will have to go for just a moment," he told her. "I have to call Paul to see if he can go check on Bear. It's way past his feeding time."

"Brutus, I didn't mean you couldn't go home. You should. You need to sleep too."

"I'm not gonna leave you, I told you that."

"You can't sit in that uncomfortable chair all night."

"Watch me," he said and kissed the palm of her hand.