The Shield (Prince Harry fanfic #2)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Lucy hated hospitals, even before the shooting, and she certainly hated them afterward. This was the first British hospital she had ever seen and perhaps she needed to see no more of them. Not that it wasn't clean or nice, but she wasn't in the mood for such thoughts of death. The smell burned her nose from how clean it was, but her body already burned.

Pain raged through her body, but she ignored it. The doctor wanted to give her pain relievers, yet Lucy refused them despite the pain. It wasn't too bad, really, compared to earlier injuries in her life. Her body wasn't as strong when it came to a few burns on her body, but it wasn't too bad. No scars would've been left, and she was given more oxygen.

Her eyes looked at the door, given her own room, as police detectives stood outside, discussing something with the doctor. After a moment, the door opened and the two police detectives entered. The door closed behind them, and they stood at the end of her bed. Names were given from the detectives before they really turned their eyes on her.

"Apologies for your coworker's death," he spoke clearly and crisply. There was some remorse in his voice, but he seemed to have done this for a long time. Death no longer bothered him, and perhaps he was morel like Lucy than either of them realized. "Let's start with your name. What is it?"

Eyes never wavered from the detectives, and her eyes continued to be strong. "Lucille Smith."

Her name was scribbled down by both detectives, but the younger one had hesitated, as if he recognized the name. The older detective, if he noticed, didn't take another second. "American?"

"I have temporary citizenship here. I'm legal."

"I wasn't accusing you," he calmly stated. "My apologies if you felt that way." He still took the time to write down that she was American and here on temporary citizenship. "People tell me you worked there; you weren't there for their services."

"Exactly. I work there." She paused. "I worked there, but I seem to be out of a job." Quickly, her eyes darted to the younger detective who continued to write down every word out of her. "My job was the first stage of assimilation," she explained. "I would find people housing, education and jobs. I also taught English."

"And these are refugees coming from Syria?"

"Refugees coming from the Middle East, Northern Africa and everywhere else in the world."

"And they're here legally or illegally?"

"I don't ask. My job was to help people, who came from nothing in the hope to have a better life." Lucy hadn't realized it but she had tilted forward to the detectives. She settled back now. "I would start with people who had a problem with my place of work. There are a lot of them."

"We know," the older detective stated. "We have received all the files about the vandalism on the building. Has that always happened?"

"As long as I worked there."

"And you never feared for your life?"

"No."

"That's quite a strange thing, to not fear for your life, when people have written for your deaths."

"They are meant to scare us, and I don't get scared by such." Lucy couldn't help but hide a smile on her face.

"I recall your name, and I can only assume your the woman who took down the gunman on the train. Am I correct?"

"Yes."

"You took down a gunman in a school. Am I correct?" the detective asked but already knew the answer. "Fate seems to have placed a lot of problems on your shoulders."