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Liv was staring at the door into the operating rooms, her face even whiter than normal. She had her arms wrapped around herself, and she was shaking. Her mother sat on one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs, holding a magazine up in front of her face, her body rigid. She was studiously ignoring Liv, even though it was obvious she wasn't reading the magazine.
She stood up when she saw Major, though, holding out a hand to him. "Major. Thank you for coming."
"Yeah, uh … sure. What—what happened?"
"Why don't you ask your ex-fiance. She seems determined to unburden herself of everyone in her life. Except for him." Disdain dripped from every word, Liv's mother's eyes cold as she watched Ravi fold Liv in his arms and hold her close. Liv didn't take her eyes off the doors even then, craning her neck to look at them over Ravi's shoulder.
"I … I'm sorry about Evan," he said, the words feeling lame and inadequate. He had never seen either of the Moore women this upset. Evan's injuries must be extensive. He went to Liv, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'm here, Liv."
Ravi let her go, muttering about getting some coffee, and left the two of them alone.
"Come on." Major tugged at her shoulder, feeling the resistance, and then she relented and let him lead her to a chair. He sat across from her, holding her cold hands in his. "Tell me what happened."
"He—he was at Meat Cute this morning." Liv gave an anxious look at the doors again, but Major waited, and she turned to face him again. "There was a blast. Did Ravi tell you about the blast? Oh, Major, Clive thinks—Clive thinks you were involved, we need to talk about—"
"Later," he said gently. "Tell me about Evan."
"So many wounds. So much shrapnel." Someone walked through the doors, Liv's head whipping around at the sound, but it was a nurse in clean scrubs who went by them without glancing up. "I know her. She's good. I wish she—" Liv's face twisted with pain, and Major knew she was wishing she was in there. Liv always had to be involved when the chips were down, to do it herself and see that it was done right. Not that they would have let her operate on her own brother, even if none of the rest of it had happened.
"He's in surgery?"
Liv nodded. "They took him in … when? I don't know. Long. Too long. He needed—he needed blood. We have the same blood type, so they asked me. They asked me to save my brother and I couldn't even do that." Her face crumpled and tears welled in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks.
Part of Major was surprised a zombie could cry so easily, another part wondered why she couldn't give blood—Oh. Zombie. He felt a flash of bitterness that she had been so willing to turn him into a member of the undead, but wouldn't go so far for her own brother, but he swallowed it.
Or thought he had. Even distraught, Liv could read him. She leaned in closer to him and hissed, "I would have, Major. In a heartbeat. But how? He's here, in the hospital. People would have seen. I couldn't let them type my blood, or even take my blood pressure, because they would have known. I'd have been in quarantine. Or worse. I—there was nothing I could do that wouldn't have put me in even greater danger than he is."
Listening to her, hearing the thought process that was her normal now, Major understood far better than he had before what her life was like. "I get it." He squeezed her hands more tightly.
"There was another doctor, he had Evan's type, and he— So Evan has blood now. But … they've been in there too long …" Liv's voice trailed off as her head turned toward the doors again.
Ravi came back with a cup of coffee in each hand. He handed one to Major, and put one firmly in Liv's free hand. "Drink that," he said sternly. "Doctor's orders."
"I used to be a doctor," Liv said in a distant voice, her eyes still on the doors.
"Fine, then, your boss's orders. Drink that, or you're fired."
Liv rolled her eyes, but she took a sip. She didn't even grimace at the taste. Of course, at one point she'd been used to the terrible hospital coffee, practically lived on it.
Ravi settled into the chair next to Major.
"No coffee for you?" Major asked.
"I have strict rules about bean quallty."
"Snob."
"Connoisseur."
Liv took another sip of the coffee, frowning at them both over the rim of the cup. "You can't be here. If Clive comes in, he'll want to ask Major questions, maybe even bring him in."
"I'm staying."
"We both are," Ravi added. "If Clive comes in, you'll tell him—"
"We'll tell him the truth," Liv said. "That you were at my place. He can't doubt me. I'm his partner."
"Okay." Major hoped this didn't involve pretending to be back together. He still couldn't look at her without remembering the pain and longing and heartache he had felt all these months, without remembering that she had let him think he was crazy rather than tell him the truth about herself.
Ravi looked skeptical and optimistic at the same time. Whether that was a doubt about the strength of Clive's trust in Liv or a doubt about Clive's overall ability to track down a lead, Major didn't know. He hoped it was the second, for his own sake if not that of the murder victims of Seattle. For now, he wasn't going to worry about that. For now, he was going to sit here and hold Liv's hand for as long as she needed him.