Dylan O'Brien Imagines

New Haven Police Department Part 2-Thomas

Thomas's POV

I continually checked on Y/N the closer we got to the station. The more I looked over at her, the more I decided that I should take her to the hospital instead.

"Where are we going?" Y/N groaned in pain as she tried to sit up.

"I figured I would take you to the hospital instead of the station," I stuttered as I glanced back over at her. "Besides, if I took you to the station, they would just turn around and take you to the hospital. So. . . One less stop."

She smiled weakly as she reached over and grabbed my hand. "It's going to be okay, Thomas. I promise."

I tried to send her a reassuring smile, but even I could tell that it was fake. I sighed before turning my attention back to the road. Soon, we pulled up to the hospital. I instantly jumped out and ran to Y/N's side. I opened her door and helped her out. I wrapped my arm around her waist, supporting most of her weight.

"Thomas," she said, breathlessly. I stopped walking and looked over at her, my heart dropping when I saw how pale she was. "I can't. . . I'm dizzy."

Right as she said that, her knees gave out. I instantly caught her, picking her up bridal style. I carried her inside, instantly catching the attention of a few nurses in the ER.

"What happened?" A nurse asked as they brought over a gurney.

"She was shot in her side."

"How long has she been bleeding?" A doctor asked as they had me place her down on the gurney.

"About twenty minutes?" I said, unsure. "Maybe less."

"Okay, let's take her back. We need to get her sewn up. Double-check for internal bleeding. We need to get that bullet out of her. Now. Keep an eye on her vitals."

I watched helplessly as they rolled her back into an operating room. "I'll be out here," I said under my breath.

I looked over when I felt the receptionist watching me. "Is she your partner?" She asked, pointing at my uniform.

"Yeah," I stuttered. "She is."

"Well," she smiled at me, "don't worry. She's going to be just fine. You can wait out here."

"Thank you," I said, letting out a sigh of relief as I looked back towards where they had just taken Y/N.

"In fact," the receptionist continued, "can you come over here and fill out the paperwork? Something tells me you'll be able to answer the questions we need."

* * * * *

About an hour later, the door finally opened and the same doctor that took Y/N walked towards me. I jumped up and met him in the middle of the floor.

"How is she? Is she going to be alright?" I rushed out.

"She's going to be fine," the doctor nodded, smiling knowingly at me. "We got the bullet out of her with no problem. Actually, that bullet made it so she didn't bleed out on your way here. She lost a lot of blood and it'll be a while until she's back at work."

"She's fine," I said more to reassure myself than anything else.

"She's in full recovery," he clarified. "We got the bullet out, stopped the bleeding, and closed the wound. She'll need to stay here and recover for a few weeks and depending on her heeling, she may need to go through some physical therapy."

"Physical therapy," I repeated.

"Yes, but it's nothing too bad." He said quickly. "Just the basic therapy, rebuilding her strength. Pretty soon, she'll be right back on her feet, next to you."