The Last Romanov (Under Editing)

Defending the Enemy

For the second time in about three months, Sasha woke up in a hospital bed with absolutely no knowledge of how he got there or how long he'd been out.

Well, he guessed that wasn't entirely sure. He did remember... something. Wasn't entirely sure what to make of it, though. It was all really fuzzy, like one of those weird dreams that made you doubt whether or not they were really dreams. He remembered a bunch of lights, some weird old guy telling him to stay still and keep calm as he fumbled around with Sasha's shirt, somebody – lots of somebodies, actually – yelling like they were pissed, a car ride, a stretcher, more lights, people with surgical masks backlit by lights that practically blinded him, somebody sobbing; he had a tough time putting it all together.

Sasha supposed that all those weird snapshots of memories made this whole experience a lot better than the last thing he got shot. Or, rather, had a bunch of shards of metal in his body, causing him to lose his arm and nearly lose his leg. He at least had some idea of what had happened, and, odds were, he still had all three of his limbs.

He sighed, trying to ignore his throbbing headache. He was getting a blood transfusion done at the moment, the bag half empty. A nurse – of course, not Nadya – was tending to him, making sure the bandage wrapped around his wound wasn't becoming infected. It hurt like hell, still, but at least he was alive. He guessed. He'd probably find out either way, soon enough.

The nurse looked over at him as he stirred in the bed. "Sir? Sir, can you hear me?"

Sweet hell! He sounded so damned loud.

"Loud and clear," Sasha groaned. "Got myself a pretty damned nice headache: feel like my head's going to explode."

"It's a side effect of the surgery," the nurse said. "You're going to feel the worst you've ever felt for a few weeks, but give it time: you'll be right as rain and back at work before you know it."

Well, at least he had an explanation for all of this.

He looked up at her. "How did that go, anyway? Anything I should know about?"

"Your surgery went just fine," the nurse said. "No complications. The doctor was able to get the bullet out pretty quickly."

The nurse looked down at a clipboard. His charts, presumably. "The bullet did, however, nick a few organs on its way through. It went straight through your appendix and lodged in your kidney. We didn't bother saving your appendix, since many people just end up having to get those removed anyway, and though we did try to mend your kidney, we ended up removing it, anyway. Since you don't exactly need two, anyway, we aren't going to try and replace it or anything: just do what you can to keep yourself from getting sick from hear on out, and you should be fine."

So, he got out of surgery with two less organs rather than the one less limb from last time? Well, at least the two organs they had to take out weren't doing too much, anyway.

"You said a few weeks recovery time for this, right?" Sasha asked, looking back up at the ceiling.

"Well, more like a month, actually," the nurse said. "You'll be feeling better in a few weeks, but the doctor wants to keep you on observation until we know for sure that you aren't going to have any complications."

Sasha nodded in understanding. "What are the odds of that?"

"I wish I could tell you, but I'm really not sure," the nurse said. "The doctor will be here in a few minutes: he can tell you."

Sasha sighed as the nurse finished up with caring for his bullet wound. He felt like he was reliving that day a couple months before, the day he gave into that Romanov girl. Of course, the nurse had also been Nadya.