Stoking The Fire

Chapter Seventeen

When I finally come too, I'm thankful that I'm not still handcuffed to a chair, staring at a dead body. However, the crappy ceiling tiles, tape on my arm, and beeping tells me I'm in the hospital. "Fuck, I hate hospitals." I mutter to myself. I'm surprised when someone answers me, a male voice I don't know.

"Well, I'm sure they hate you too, Ms. Hanson. Welcome back! I'm Dr Griffin, I've been taking care of you since you wound up here in Desert Palm. How are you feeling?" I snort.

"Like I've been hit by a fucking truck?" I quip, and he stares at me sharply for a minute. Then his eyes go wide, and he makes a little O with his mouth. "Well that explains the X-Rays, then. But, with all seriousness?" he says, tilting his head as he looks at me.

"Honestly, Doc? I mean I know I was stabbed in the leg and slapped around a bit and I probably dislocated my shoulder, but I'm on my default setting right now. Which just happens to be 'everything fucking hurts', so it's really hard to pinpoint one particular thing to complain about, honestly. How long have I been in here?" I shift painfully on the bed, trying to get comfortable. Yep, everything hurts.

"It's been, uh..." He consults the chart he's holding. "36 hours since Nick carried you into the ER." He starts to speak again, but I cut him off.

"Wait, carried? I didn't come in an ambulance?"

"Nope, he apparently made it to the scene about 15 minutes before they did, and he wasn't about to wait so he just bundled you in his car and drove you here himself." I sigh at these words, and lay my head back, closing my eyes.

"I swear to the gods I'm going to fully kick this man's ass from here till next year..." I mutter. I can hear the doctor snort, and then I hear footsteps in the hall and approaching voices.

"Nick, I keep telling you we've got things handled, you should go back to the hotel and get yourself some rest! You know we won't let anything happen to her, have we ever let anything happen to you?" she's speaking softly, but I can hear the exasperation in her voice as they come into the room.

"I hear what you're saying, but I'm sorry I'm not letting her out of my s-" he trails off, as I open my eyes and look at him, with a soft smile. Gods, he's so tired, I can see the lines of exhaustion and dark circles under his eyes. His hair is messy and unkempt like he's been running his hands through it, and I don't even know when the last time he ate or showered was. Hell, he's still wearing the same clothes he was when I left him at the lab, and they look rumpled. My heart hurts just looking at him, and I want to cry. I don't, however.

"Hey bossman, I guess I get an F on this field test, hunh?" I snark softly, as he comes over to my left side and carefully takes my left hand, looking at the bandage on my wrist. He sits down and looks at me, eyes unreadable. I take my hand gently out of his, and ruffle his messy hair with a grin. I loved it when he let his hair be messy like this, I don't know what it was about it, but it just, I can't describe it.

"When was the last time you ate or got some sleep, Nick?" He raises an eyebrow and looks at me. "I've been napping off and on in the lounge, and I literally just finished eating a sandwich." he states, looking at me like he'd won the argument we weren't even really having. I chuckle.

"Yeah, napping in a chair doesn't count Stokes, and you know it. But I'll give you an A for the sandwich." I grin at him, and blink sleepily, before turning to the nurse. "Is there a free bed around here you could handcuff him to for a few hours so he can get some actual sleep?"

"Kari!" He exclaims, and I give a sleepy chuckle. "Well, I'm not about to mess with any handcuffs, but there is a free bed in the room next door that he could nap in for a few hours, if he'll do it." she smiles wryly, and he shakes his head. I reach out and take his hand back, and he turns and looks at me.