Love Is Always Write Volume 4

and he finally relinquished his charge to the thick-gloved hands.
    Familiar fingers threaded through his hair, and Jonathan felt himself floating through the mess of the warehouse and into the open, cool breeze of the outdoors. Someone may have tried to talk to him, but then there was nothing but the blissful empty space of unconsciousness.
    ****
    The first thing Jonathan noticed when he came to was the blurry, white impression of hard plastic and cloth and reflective metal. Blinking a few times cleared up his vision pretty well, and he managed to make out the cream and white curtain hanging along his bedside. There were the standard cardio machines and the hanging bags of what looked like blood and probably some kind of saline solution.
    There didn't seem to be anybody else in the room with him, though whoever was taking up the other hospital bed was probably unconscious or asleep. The general lack of design and entertainment told him this was probably an ICU, not that he had any experience to speak from. Maybe this was just the hospital's version of "warm and friendly."
    A door clicked open, probably the door to the hallway, but it was blocked from view behind the long hanging curtain. Jonathan waited to see if whoever had entered would come to check on him. He didn't want to call out in case it was his neighbor's family or something.
    Eventually, an older woman bearing a chart and wearing a standard white lab coat pushed the curtain aside enough to enter Jonathan's designated space. Grey streaks ran through her dark bun and curled around her glasses. "Mr. Nitch, I'm glad to have you with us. We had to send you through surgery as soon as you got here. That bullet in your hip wasn't a pretty thing. Some officers brought you in, so the report has already been handled. You should be careful about putting weight on your right leg for a while, and you'll notice some general tenderness around the area. I suggest you also stay away from strenuous activities in case your stitches reopen. We should be able to get you out of here by tonight or tomorrow morning, depending on how you're feeling."
    "Doctor," Jonathan tried interjecting, but the dryness of his throat turned his word into a whisper.
    Understanding, the doctor moved to Jonathan's side table and offered him the cup of water there.
    When his throat was finally replenished, Jonathan coughed slightly and finally tried again, "Doctor, did anyone come in with me? Maybe a little girl or a SWAT member?"
    The doctor smiled, "In fact, I think both of them are here now in the waiting room. Your condition was unstable until last night. After you went into shock, we had a pretty hard time keeping your bleeding under control. I'll let them know you're awake and feeling up to visitors."
    Jonathan nodded, staring down at his hospital afghan. He couldn't think of what to say when Stacy came through that door. Or what he would do. He couldn't even really guess just how mad Stacy was going to be at him. Jonathan wasn't surprised to learn Stacy was at the hospital. Stacy was always responsible after all, but that just made Jonathan feel all the worse. He almost hoped Stacy was cold or dismissive or even clinical so that Jonathan wouldn't have to think about how to try and fix their relationship after this fiasco.
    The door clicked open again, and Jonathan braced himself, but instead of his tall husband, a bundle of pleated skirt and blazer threw itself at him almost before it could reach the side of the bed. Jonathan caught her seconds before a reprimanding voice hurried through the room after her, clearly trying to be commanding and quiet at once. Jonathan settled the girl in the bed next to him. She looked better than she had in the warehouse, in no small part due to being reunited with her family no doubt. The sunshine hair fell in bright, freshly-washed waves, and her school uniform was crisp and clean. So either she hadn't gone to school or it was much earlier than he'd thought.
    "I'm terribly sorry," a woman said.
    Jonathan looked up at the lady dressed in a neat business suit. Her fair head was an older impression of her daughter's. "It's not a problem," he said. "I'm glad to see she's alright."
    "My husband and I are extremely grateful to you for taking care of her during … that." The woman stumbled over the last part, and Jonathan didn't blame her. It was hard enough when a kid went missing, but when he or she went missing because of you or your career, Jonathan couldn't