The Aftermath

Who: Danny and Janey
Where: Eidolon General
When: late

The last thing Danny remembered was being wheeled into the ambulance. He must have passed out, or they gave him something to knock him out, on the way over. The next thing he saw was the pattern of the ceiling tiles in the small room they'd dumped him in. A machine whirred in the off to his left somewhere, something else from another angle beeped steadily.

With consciousness came pain, lots of it. His shoulder felt like it was pinned to the bed, heavy with whatever. Groaning a little he realized his throat was dry, and another source of pain. He shifted, just slightly and released a loud moan. The small movement had sent shots of pain through his body like lightning. This was bad.

Janey wasn't honestly sure how she'd gotten to the hospital, she just knew she was there. She wasn't upset or panicked--yet. She was solely focused on being there. Danny needed her. Danny needed her, and she was going to be there.

"You know I'll always come home to you, right?" That phrase haunted her thoughts. The promise he'd made. He hadn't broken it, yet. She didn't know how bad things were--but he was alive, and that was a start. He would keep his promise. He would be okay, eventually. As she pushed opened the main doors of the hospital, she murmured a quick, impromptu prayer Holy Mother, I need you now to be my strength..."

Danny gave up on trying to move once the pain beat through his body. Instead he just let his mind wander, trying to distract himself from the agony in his shoulder. He needed to talk to Sam, to find out what was in that last warehouse, if their efforts were worth the sacrifice. He needed to know who'd survived, and who hadn't. In the silence he realized he was alone. His blood changed to ice in his veins. Where was Janey?

A quiet nurse led Janey to Danny's room. She kept giving Janey these looks that she recognized too well. They were cautious looks of pity, like at any moment she was expected to break down. Over the years, in and out of hospitals with the miscarriages, she'd gotten to read those glances well. And all they ever did was encourage her to let down her guard. Not now. She'd done that far too recently, with Zhen. Now, she needed to be strong. She didn't even ask the nurse what had happened, or how bad it was. She'd rather just see for herself. Finally, the nurse led her into a bright hospital room, full of the din of the machines that surrounded the bed. At first, Danny was just a shape in the midst of it all, before she began to make out what condition he was in.

He heard the door open, but he didn't bother to try and turn his head to see who was there. Instead he kept focusing on his wife, hoping to hell that Sam had called her. Sam had said she would, hadn't she? How could he not remember?

The blankets were pulled up to his waist, so who knew what condition the rest of his body was in. But from what she could see, his left arm protruded stiffly from his body, swathed in thick white bandages. His face was sooty, scratched and bruised, his eyes open but swollen, and his gaze didn't seem focused. There was an IV in his right arm, feeding to a bag of fluid dripping slowly through the tube. Janey rushed to his side and reached out, gingerly, to touch his hand.

Danny felt Janey's hand on his good hand, and tightened his around hers, pulling on her a little. He knew it was her, even if his line of sight was limited and he could barely see her. Attempting to shift a little, he spiked the pain through his arm, grimacing and groaning just a little. This time at least, the nurse who led Janey in was still there, and able to respond with more painkillers. "Hey," he finally offered, voice croaky from the dry throat.

Despite having steeled herself for the worst, Janey felt her throat tighten at the sound of his voice. He was awake and speaking, that was a good thing, and she clung to that. "Hi," she said. But anything else she could've said to him seemed to slide from her consciousness as she squeezed his hand back, lacing her fingers with his, and realized how thankful she was that he was even alive.

Whatever she'd given him it was already starting to work. Morphine probably. Even though it still hurt to even move his good arm, he pulled Janey's hand to his mouth, kissing it with chapped lips. "Sorry 'bout this baby," he whispered, but the comment was followed with a sharp cough.

The apology took her by surprise. It wasn't like he'd done something to her. "Sorry?" she said, using the hand he'd kissed to gently stroke his cheek. "You shouldn't apologize for something that's not your fault."

Danny tried to laugh, but that still sent new waves of pain through his injured shoulder. The drugs were working, but they weren't that quick. Sighing he closed his eyes against the pain, trying to ignore it, impossible as that was. If Janey wasn't here he would have just moaned with it, made a scene. But he needed to be strong for her, prove that he was fine. "Is there water?" he finally asked, eyes half opening.

There was a glass on the table and Janey took it into the bathroom to fill it at the tap. When she brought it back, she hesitated. She should probably get him more upright before trying to give him a drink, but she was almost afraid to touch him, afraid she'd hurt him in some way. He didn't need any more pain.

Danny did his best to smile weakly at her hesitation. "You're not gonna break me baby. Not anymore than I already am," he croaked, reading her mind. It seemed like a feat but he'd been in her life every day for over fifteen years, knowing her expressions was child's play.

Janey forced a smile in return, and eased one hand carefully behind his neck and shoulders, helping him sit up and lean forward as she brought the glass to his lips.

To say the motion wasn't torture would be a lie, but quenching his thirst was worth it. In a moment very much unlike him, he leaned into Janey just a little. Between the morphine and the pain the part of him that lived for her was starting to show through.

Janey had always wanted to keep him safe, but it had never been in her power, and she knew that would never change. Yet she had the sudden urge to lie down next to him and hold him, as ridiculous as she was sure that would seem to anyone else. But she resisted, and just continued to support him as he leaned in towards her.

"I'm sorry, I got careless. I didn't mean to worry you." The painkillers were definitely kicking in now, because Danny felt infinitely better. "I was focusing on getting Tyler out of trouble and I missed the guy who shot me."

"Danny, stop apologizing. I don't care," Janey said fiercely. "I don't care how, or why it happened. All I care about," she said, her voice breaking, "is that you're alive."

He did his best to smile, pulling at her a little. Just moments before she'd wanted to curl up against him, now that's what he wanted. He wanted nothing more than to just hold her. "Of course I'm alive baby. It'll take more than this to get rid of me."

She leaned towards him when he tugged at her, almost forgetting for a moment where they were as her lips landed against his jawline in a kiss. She was gentle--despite what he said, she could feel the roughness and the swelling, and it kept her cautious.

It felt good, just having her there like that. "Did Sam call?" Danny asked running his hand through Janey's hair. "I told her to. Or I think I did. I'm not sure what of those last few moments actually happened and what I imagined." Danny was pretty sure he'd imagined the part about Sam telling him she'd sleep with him if he wasn't a cop. That part had to have been some sort of hallucination brought on by blood loss.

"Yes," Janey said. She turned to the nurse, who was still lingering in the doorway. "Is it all right if I stay?" she asked. "Of course," the nurse replied. Janey dragged a chair from the corner up to the side of the bed and collapsed in it, draping herself over the armrest so that her upper half was practically on the bed, as close to Danny as she could get. She stroked his face gently, and smoothed his sooty, ruffled hair. "You should get some rest," she murmured, her own heavy eyelids drooping. She hadn't been asleep when Sam had called, of course, and worrying sure took a lot out of her.

Danny was relieved to see her settle in and stay. He already hated being in this hospital bed and if it weren't for the painkillers he wouldn't be able to sleep. Having Janey here was like having his favorite part of home right where he needed it. "I should say the same to you. You look like you haven't slept in days." The observation was one he wouldn't normally make, but the medicine had lowered his inhibitions. Danny traced the edge of her jawline with his good hand, fingers playing with her hair.

Janey shrugged and averted her eyes, but couldn't quite bring herself to turn her face away and hide it completely. Danny didn't know much of any of her problems--the endless worrying that kept her up half the night, and the accompanying headaches it caused, or the exhaustion so heavy she thought she could sleep for years and still wake up feeling tired. Now wasn't the time to bring them up, either. "The past few weeks have been a little tense, you know?"

"I know," he told her with as understanding of a tone as he could manage with his still aching throat. "It's gonna get better. I promise." The right thing to do was to tell her she could talk about it but Danny had a feeling Janey wouldn't tell him even if he asked. His eyelids fluttered a little, the painkillers starting to drag him under some.

Janey rested her head on her arm, which was stretched up beside his head, and yawned. "I hope so," she said. "But first, you have to get better. And that means sleep." She was firm, but partly for her own good. She was going to pass out soon anyways.

The ache Danny felt was something different than the ache in his shoulder. More than anything he wanted to roll on his side and pull her close. How many long nights had they spent here, hoping for better news but always hearing the same bad news. He wanted to make those damn memories go away, not add to them. But there wasn't a chance to say something. Instead the morphine did its job, pulling him under and settling him into a dreamless sleep.