Shadows | A Forever Fan-Fiction - Sequel to Lights

Chapter Thirty-Six: All That Is Sought

It was surreal.

The victory was written in his eyes, reflected in the light magnified through shards of broken glass as the world seemed to fade around me. The ICU wasn't that high up from the ground. It would be a short plummet to my doom, and Adam's escape. Again.

I remembered the syringe in my hands, and I let go of Adam and made sure I got him in the neck, the plunger pressing down, the poison rushing into his veins. The victory in his eyes turned to liquid hatred. Not because he was going to die - no. It was because he had lost the game.

"You're going to die," was the last sentence he uttered.

"So will you." The words were snatched at, being clawed at by the wind like our hair from our faces and our clothes against our skin. His hat was crooked, tilted sharply to an angle, falling sideways off his head.

And then, our fall came to a stop.

-=+=-

-She's not responding to speech. Lights? Can you hear me?

Oh God, LaVaughn! Get Rayes and any orthopaedic surgeon you can find! We need CTs, X-Rays. Someone get me my damn light!

Here you go.

Rayes was with Liliths earlier. Someone page both of them!

There was a brief spark of light, and then nothing more.

She's responding. Her pupils are responsive. That's good. I'll go find the orthopaedic attending on duty.

What the hell happened?! Lights! No, no! What happened?!

I'll explain later! Where the hell is Rayes, Liliths? Morgan said you were with him!

The world roared into life as shock sunk its claws into my body. The beeping of monitors sang in my ears. A faint, blurry world covered by splotches of darkness. My vision dwindled.

Blood pressure's dropping! Skip the CT, we're going to surgery!

What if she has brain damage? We won't know if her skull has severe bleeding!

If she bleeds out, then it's all for nothing-

Darkness, once again.

-=+=-

Duvall leaned against the sink of the preparation room, staring into the OR. The woman's body was lain almost daintily over the table, her face serrated and marred by cuts from shards of glass and the force of her body hitting concrete.

She might never see again. And the prospect of her seeing again was only if she survived.

He turned on the faucet violently, the cold water rushing over his fingers - fingers that cut and stitched and sutured, the way her fingers had. There was really no time to waste. Why he was dawdling there, he hadn't a clue.

The door behind him opened. Morgan stepped into the preparation room. The vibes that he gave off made Duvall uncomfortable. It was like being with her father or something. Duvall opened his mouth to explain his actions, his side of the story, and the chaos that had disrupted his days of surgery and guilty pleasures, but Morgan cut him off.

"Later, yes? You're standing here, though to help or to hurt I do not know. You'll be alright?" Dr. Morgan asked politely, the tension in his words quite audible, like ropes about to snap under pressure. He, too, ran the tap, tying on his scrub mask and cap.

"Yes, thank you," Duvall replied with equivalently false amiability. A storm raged inside, sweeping down everything within him. He turned towards the OR, and, after a moment of hesitation, turned back around. "She's a patient. Nothing more."

Morgan's eyes levelled with his, burning with a strange fire that singed Duvall's chest and lungs. "Don't ever hurt her again."

"I won't." Duvall meant it, but he wasn't sure that Morgan understood how he felt towards the woman lying on that cold metal table. If they didn't go now, she too would be cold. They would all, one day, be as old as ice and buried or burnt until nothing ever remained. "I never intended to."

"Then we're fine. You can speak for yourself later. In court, perhaps, if the police decide it is worth investigating." Morgan brushed past him and into the OR, no more words to exchange except for the polite orders that were often bequeathed to assisting surgeons.

It was time to begin.

-=+=-