Concussion

A guest asked for a oneshot of Emma taking a bullet for her dad in the shoulder during a shootout. This causes her to fall down and get concussion.

It was instinct. An automatic reaction. After all, I was the Saviour, wasn't I meant to save? Especially if the person in need of saving was my own father. I saw the perp line up their gun for my dad's chest. I knew that by shoving him out of the way I'd receive a (hopefully) non-fatal wound to my shoulder because of the height difference. The bullet did go through my shoulder, forcing me right back. I felt the back of my head whack off of something, at first I was seeing stars, and then there was darkness.

"She's coming too." A faint voice called out.

"Emma?" Another voice said. I could swear that voice echoed. Was I in a cave or something? "Emma, can you hear us?" I opened my eyes slowly, even the dull light burning my retinas. I winced, keeping them half shut. I appeared to be in the hospital, what was I doing there? I seemed to be seeing double, but could still make out the people who had been talking to me had been my parents. I tried to sit up properly, but both an overwhelming feeling of sickness and a searing pain in my left shoulder had me gasp and slump back down.

"Don't try and sit up Emma, think of the wound!" My mom said, sounding alarmed.

"Wound?" I croaked out, my voice hoarse. "What wound? What happened to me?" Both my parents glanced at each other nervously, I was clearly not remembering something important. But before either of them could say anything, Whale came into the room.

"Well it's good to see you're awake Miss Swan." He greeted me cheerily, too cheerily in my opinion. "Luckily for you the bullet went through clean. No fragments shattered off otherwise this could have been a lot nastier."

"Bullet? What bullet?" I asked, had I been shot? Whale now looked much less cheery and a lot more worried. He pulled his little torch out of his coat pocket and came over to me, shining the damn thing in my eyes.

"Miss Swan, what's your vision like?" He asked.

"Well I'll let you know once you're done blinding me!" I complained, swatting him away.

"Have you been seeing double? Any dizziness or nausea?"

"Well yeah to all three, but if I've been shot I suspect I got off pretty lucky." I pointed out. Whale put his little torch back in his pocket.

"Emma these aren't symptoms from your gunshot wound- these are from you whacking your head off a lamppost after the incident. You have a concussion-"

"Does someone want to tell me what's going on here?!" I yelled out, frustrated. Each of my parents immediately took one of my hands.

"Emma, we were on a serious shootout call." My dad began calmly. One of them nearly caught me off guard, would have got me right in the chest, but you shoved me out of the way and took the bullet yourself. You got hit in the shoulder and the force pushed you back. You conked your head off the lamppost and here you are in hospital nearly fifteen hours later. Emma, please don't ever do that again. I was so worried. There was so much blood…" My dad trailed off, unable to say anymore. I looked him dead in the eye.

"Do you think if I hadn't you would have died?" I asked him. He nodded, grimly. "Well then I regret nothing." I said coolly. "And I cannot promise not to repeat my actions if a similar event happens." My parents didn't seem happy with my response so I decided to change the subject. "Did you get them in the end?"

"Funnily enough Emma I was slightly preoccupied after you got shot." My dad said sarcastically. "Red is hot on their trail. Trust me, they won't be getting away with this." I looked back to Whale.

"When can I get out of here?" I asked.

"Not for at least a few days, Miss Swan. Your vitals will need to be examined and assessed to make sure there is no internal bleeding or any other hidden damage. And then once you are home there will be a period of rehabilitation, rest and recuperation."

"Oh don't you worry Doctor." My mom said. "She won't be leaving her bed for a very long time." I frowned, resisting the urge to pout like a child. Sometimes playing the hero was no fun at all.