I didn't feel pain when I woke up. I remembered that I'd been shot; somehow, it's hard to forget something like that. But I didn't feel pain. Odd. Not that I'm complaining.
I slowly open my eyes. I'm in a
hospital, hooked up to a million machines. Tubes go into a slit in my arm. Painkillers. That explains something. I look dully at the opaque tubes, then slowly blink, the rest of the room coming into focus.
First person I see is Savage, staring pensively out the window, hands clasped behind his back. A muffled sound grows clearer. A voice. Nick's?
"--ll your fault! She got shot!"
"Nick! It's not like he planned this! She was just doing her job!" Diana, I think. Trying to calm Nick down. Who is he angry at? Jack Savage. Stupid of the fox. But understandable.
I try to sit up, but my head starts spinning and I feel like I'm floating. "Whoa. What am I on?" The words slip out unconsciously, tripping drunkenly on my tongue.
Mammals rush to my bedside, argument forgotten. "She's awake! Call the doctors!"
Everybody babbles mindlessly for a moment or two, before the doctor comes and quietly ushers them out. But Savage lingers, and Dr. Watson discreetly leaves.
The businessmammal sits in a chair.
"I'm sorry."
