"He has a sword!" The scream pierced the air like a blade itself, the woman's voice edged with raw terror. Something about her panic triggered something deep inside me – a switch I didn't know existed.
Suddenly, my mind exploded with fragments of memory: the whisper of steel cutting air, the solid thunk of arrows finding their mark, the perfect balance of a blade in my palm. My muscles remembered what my mind couldn't, a warrior's knowledge written in bone and sinew.
"Shut up!" The man's voice boomed through the corridor, but I barely heard him. Blood roared in my ears like a storm surge as I slipped out of my room, moving on instinct. These people – the doctors, the nurses, Connor – they weren't just hospital staff anymore. They were family. My family.
"SHUT UP!" The swordsman's scream echoed.
The attacker loomed over Connor like a dark giant, his sword catching the fluorescent lights in wicked glints. As I watched, frozen in horror, his boot connected with Connor's ribs. The sound of that impact – flesh against leather, the soft grunt of pain – made something snap inside me. "Dad," the word escaped my lips like a prayer, barely a whisper but carrying the weight of everything I'd found in this hospital.
"Please," a woman sobbed, clutching her newborn to her chest like a shield. The baby's tiny whimpers cut through the tension like paper cuts. "Please don't hurt us. Just let us go!"
"I SAID SHUT UP!" The man's attention snapped back to Connor, his voice dripping with venom. "You!" His boot found Connor's stomach again, drawing a pained gasp. "You didn't save them. You didn't save them. You'll pay for what you did."
Time seemed to slow, each second stretching like taffy. My nightmares and reality blurred together – the masked men, the blood, the terror – but this time, I wasn't helpless. This time, I could fight back.
My body moved before my brain could catch up, muscles responding to some deep-buried training. I launched myself at the attacker, my smaller frame carrying all the force I could muster. It felt like hitting a concrete wall, the impact jarring every bone in my body.
Strong hands suddenly gripped my shoulders, yanking me backward. Pure instinct took over – I lashed out with a kick, only to freeze when I met Will Halstead's thunderous glare.
"What in the world do you think you're doing?" Will's voice cracked like a whip, his face a storm of anger and fear.
My eyes darted past Will to where Connor knelt on the ground, one arm wrapped protectively around his ribs. April and Natalie flanked him like guardian angels, their hands steady on his shoulders. When Connor's gaze met mine, the fury blazing in his eyes made my stomach drop. I quickly looked away, unable to bear the weight of his disappointment. On the floor nearby, the swordsman lay motionless, a police officer's knee pressed firmly into his back.
"Lexa!" Will ordered. "We're leaving, now." His grip on my arm was firm but careful as he steered me back toward my room. "You were explicitly told to stay in your room. I can't believe you would do something so reckless. What were you thinking? Huh!"
"I... I just wanted to help." The words came out broken. "I can't lose him."
Will dragged a hand down his face, his anger visibly deflating. "Listen to me," he said, voice softening. "I know you want to help, but you're just a kid. When we tell you to do something, it's not just to hear ourselves talk. We need to know we can trust you when we're not around." He paused, catching the sound of approaching footsteps. We both looked up to see Connor stalking toward us, his face thunderous.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Connor's voice was low and dangerous. "He could have killed you!" He advanced, and I stumbled backward until my legs hit the bed. Without warning, his hand caught my arm, and two sharp swats landed on my backside. "We need to get something straight," he continued, ignoring both my shocked gasp and Will's raised eyebrows. "Since you're going to be staying with me, you will be held accountable for your actions. I will not tolerate you risking your life. Am I clear?"
"Yes sir," I whispered, the words barely audible.
"I'll leave you two alone," Will muttered, making a tactical retreat.
Connor let out a heavy sigh, but before he could speak, I launched myself at him. My arms wrapped around his waist like I was drowning and he was my only lifeline. "I don't want to lose you," I sobbed into his scrubs. "I don't want you to get killed."
Connor went rigid, clearly caught off guard by my emotional ambush. His hand settled awkwardly on my head, patting gently. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice warming. "Everything is going to be okay." After what felt like an eternity, he carefully disentangled himself. "Come on, we're going to be late for our appointment." His hand found my shoulder, squeezing gently. "After that, I thought we could go shopping for your room."
I glanced around the familiar hospital room, confusion furrowing my brow. "But... this room already has stuff."
A smile tugged at Connor's lips. "I mean your room at my apartment. After the appointment, you're coming home with me." When I didn't respond, his smile faltered. "Don't you want to pick out your own bed? Maybe a TV or a desk?"
"Yes, but..." My voice trailed off into uncertainty. "I don't need anything. I can sleep on the couch."
The look of disbelief on Connor's face would have been comical under different circumstances.
"I promise I won't be any trouble," the words tumbled out in a rush. "I'll help around the house, I won't ask for anything. I won't cost much, I—" The fear of being too expensive, too demanding, too much trouble wrapped around my throat like a vice.
"Stop." Connor's hand scrubbed over his face, exhaustion etched in every line. "You're a child. There will be good days and bad days. Times when you'll make mistakes. But no matter what you do or say, I'll be there." His voice grew fierce with conviction. "I'll stand beside you, guide you down the right path. I promise to take care of your every need."
"Come on," Connor said, gently leading me to the car. "Our social worker is going to meet us there," he explained as we walked. We passed through the ED, through the automatic doors that whooshed open with a blast of cold air, and towards Connor's car. The drive felt like an eternity, my mind racing with possibilities I couldn't bear to voice. When we finally arrived, the courthouse loomed over us its shadow stretching across the parking lot as Connor pulled into a space near the entrance.
The courthouse loomed before us like a stone giant, its marble steps gleaming in the morning sun. My new shoes squeaked against the polished floor as we made our way through security, Connor's hand steady on my shoulder. The guard's metal detector wand made me flinch – something about the electronic whine setting my teeth on edge.
"It's okay," Connor murmured, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on my shoulder.
Our social worker, Ms. Martinez, met us in a wood-paneled hallway that smelled of lemon polish. Her heels clicked against the floor as she approached, manila folder tucked under one arm. "Dr. Rhodes," she nodded, then smiled warmly at me. "Lexa. How are you feeling?"
I pressed closer to Connor's side, words stuck in my throat like cotton. The courthouse buzzed with quiet energy – lawyers in sharp suits hustling past, the distant echo of a gavel, the soft murmur of serious conversations. Everything felt too big, too important.
"The judge will want to speak with you privately," Ms. Martinez explained, her voice gentle but firm. "Just be honest about how you feel living with Dr. Rhodes."
My fingers twisted in the hem of my new shirt. "What if... what if they say no?" The question came out barely above a whisper.
Connor knelt down, bringing himself to my eye level. "Hey, look at me," he said softly. "Whatever happens in there, we're in this together. Okay?"
The courtroom door creaked open, and a clerk called my name. Connor squeezed my hand one last time before letting go. As I followed the clerk into the judge's chambers, I glanced back to see Connor watching me, his face a mix of hope and fear.
The judge's office was smaller than I'd expected, warm wood and leather instead of cold marble. Judge Wilson smiled at me from behind her desk. Hello, Lexa. Please, have a seat."
I perched on the edge of a leather chair that probably cost more than everything I owned (which, admittedly, wasn't much). My heart thundered in my chest so loud I was sure she could hear it.
"Tell me about Dr. Rhodes," she said, her voice kind but carrying an undercurrent of authority that demanded honesty. "How do you feel about him becoming your guardian?"
I took a deep breath, thinking of Connor's steady hands checking my stitches, his voice guiding me through nightmares, the way he looked at me like I mattered. Like I was worth protecting. Worth loving.
"He makes me feel safe," I whispered.
Judge Wilson leaned forward. "Safe is important," she said softly. "Can you tell me more about that?"
"When I have nightmares, he stays with me until I fall back asleep." The words started flowing easier now. "He makes sure I eat, even when I'm not hungry. And when those men attacked the hospital..." My voice wavered. "He tried to protect everyone, even though he got hurt."
The judge's pen scratched quietly against her notepad. "I understand you don't remember your life before the hospital?"
"No, ma'am." The admission felt heavy on my tongue. "Just... fragments. Bad things, mostly. But Connor – Dr. Rhodes – he says that's okay. That memories might come back, or they might not, but either way..." I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. "Either way, I'm not alone anymore."
She studied me for a long moment, her eyes kind but searching. "And what about school? Dr. Rhodes works long hours at the hospital."
"He's already arranged everything," I said quickly, sitting up straighter. "I'll go to the school near the hospital. After school, I can do homework in the doctors' lounge until his shift ends. Dr. Manning she said she'd help me with science, and Dr. Halstead promised to teach me about history." The words tumbled out in a rush. "The whole hospital... they're like family now."
Judge Wilson's lips curved into a small smile. "One last question, Lexa. If you could tell Dr. Rhodes one thing right now, what would it be?"
The answer came without hesitation, surprising even me with its certainty. "That I want to stay with him. That I... I want him to be my dad." The last word came out barely above a whisper, but it felt right. True.
"Thank you, Lexa." The judge pressed a button on her desk, and the clerk appeared to escort me back to the courtroom. My legs felt wobbly as I stood, like I'd just run a marathon.
Connor jumped to his feet the moment I emerged, his eyes searching my face for clues. I wanted to run to him, but the formal atmosphere of the courtroom held me back. Instead, I slipped quietly into the seat beside him, his hand finding mine immediately.
"All rise," the clerk called, and Judge Wilson entered, her black robes sweeping behind her. The sound of shuffling feet filled the room as everyone stood.
My heart pounded so hard I could barely hear the legal terms she used, something about "best interests" and "permanent guardianship." But then she smiled, looking directly at us.
"Dr. Rhodes, I'm granting your petition for guardianship of Lexa." Her gavel struck once, the sound sharp and final. "Congratulations to you both."
The professional mask Connor had worn all morning cracked. He turned to me, tears shining in his blue eyes, and opened his arms. This time, I didn't let the formal setting stop me – I launched myself at him, burying my face in his suit jacket as his arms wrapped around me tight.
"Thank you," he whispered, though I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or the judge or maybe just the universe in general. "Thank you."