From the moment she’d received a voicemail from Owen to the second she burst through the door at St. Mary’s was largely a blur. She didn’t remember how she’d gotten to San Francisco, or how long it had taken. All she knew was that when she got there, she hadn’t been wearing a jacket, and she’d been completely frantic, babbling at a nurse until she realized what it was Roz wanted. Which had been to see David. That’s all. Just to see him, to know that he was okay. Then, she could leave again. Go back to her life without him, and keep on trying to get past what had happened.
Of course, that wasn’t the way it had worked out. When she’d arrived, he’d still been in surgery. She spent hours curled up in one of the hard plastic chairs, alone with her thoughts and Buttercup, who was oddly silent. Honestly, she’d been expecting something, some wailing or endless declarations of undying affection. But instead, they both just sat there, watching the clock tick and waiting for news on the man they both loved.
When the doctor finally came out, she was braced for the worst, but still hoping for the best. He’d told her, quite kindly, that David was going to be okay. He’d taken a few bullets, but the surgery had gone smoothly, and they expected him to make a full recovery. Even though he was still out, she could go and see him.
It almost killed her, seeing him there in the hospital bed. She’d sat down in a chair that was only slightly more comfortable than those in the waiting room, slid her hand in to his, and cried for what felt like the better part of a year. When she’d run dry completely, she scooted the chair closer, tucked her free arm under her head, and dozed off. She just needed a quick nap. Then she could leave, slip away before he came to.
Only when David stirred did she wake up. So much for getting out of there before he knew that she’d ever been there. But that wasn’t what she was thinking about. She was too damn relieved that he was moving to think of anything else. Sitting up, she combed her (half-asleep) hand through her hair. “Hey.” She gave his hand a quick, gentle squeeze. “You’re up.”