Above All, Honor

Chapter Eighteen

Somebody far away screamed her name, an agonized, animal scream of pain. Then... nothing.

"We need another line here... Hang more fluid... Son of a bitch! I can't get a blood pressure... Where the fuck is the O neg... Push the intracardiac epi again... Here we go– crack her chest... Anything...? I've got a rhythm... Shit, still no pulse... Keep up the compression... Nothing... Pump more blood... Come on, come on... Normal sinus rhythm... Oh, man– tell them to move it..."

Megan had no memory of the trip, nor the frantic forty minutes that followed in the emergency room, before being transported to the operating room. For the first few days, she laid sedated in the intensive care unit, a tube in her trachea delivering oxygen, larger tubes in her chest removing blood and tissue fluids. A machine breathed for her. She could neither move nor speak.

Occasionally, some stimulus would penetrate her consciousness, and she would register some small sensation– sound, a light, someone touching her. Always, there would be a soft voice, murmuring words of consolation that had no meaning but were strangely soothing nonetheless. Pain was a distant thunder, rolling slowly through the landscape of her awareness, ever present.

"Hurts..."

"I know, darlin', I know... Can't you give her something for the pain, for God's sake?"

More time passed.

"Megan, you're going to be all right. Hold on... Please. I need you to live."

The voice was so familiar, yet the face so elusive. At once, Megan opened her eyes and was certain that the tear-stained face bending near her own was Normani's. But that couldn't be right, could it? The next time she opened her eyes, she was lucid enough to realize it was only a nurse.

Megan listened to snippets of conversation, desperately trying to make sense of what was happening to and around her. Unfortunately, there were huge gaps in her consciousness, destroying any sense of reality.

A man's voice, "Let me drive you home. You need to get some rest."

"No. Not yet. They said another twenty-four hours before they were sure..."

"Please, it won't help..." The man again, insistent but gentle.

"It helps me."

Megan was aware of people touching her. Turning her, covering her, bathing her. The single touch that anchored her the most, however, was a gentle hand that seemed to enclose hers for hours on end. Whenever she could summon the will, Megan squeezed the fingers clasping hers, and the voice would come again, murmuring tender words of love and encouragement in her ear.

"Who... are..."

"It's all right, love, don't try to talk now."

"Stay..."

"I will."

Megan lay quietly, eyes closed, taking stock of her situation. Most of the tubes she had been dimly aware of the last few days were gone. The noise level around her had also decreased, and she sensed that she wasn't in the intensive care unit anymore. A hand slowly stroked her hair. She opened her eyes and focused on the woman beside her. She was surprised at how bright the sunlight filtering through the window appeared.

"Hello, my love."

Megan reached for the fingers softly brushing her cheek. She was amazed, and not a little frightened, at how difficult a task that was. She hoped she didn't look as weak as she felt. "Hello, Mother."

Her memories converged all at once, and panic ripped through her.

"Normani Hamilton! Is she all right? Oh God! Was she hurt?"

Megan actually tried to sit up, and found that she was unable to raise her shoulders more than a fraction of an inch. The pain she had been living with for days suddenly coalesced into a bright hot lance of fire searing through her chest. "Oh oh–," she gasped involuntarily, collapsing against the pillows.

"Lie still, Megan," her mother admonished firmly. "Miss Hamilton is fine. She wasn't injured. In fact, you were the only one–" she hesitated for a moment, steadying her voice. "You were the only one who was shot."

Megan closed her eyes briefly, sapped by the effort to sit up. Despite her fatigue, she felt peaceful and content. Sleep was coming quickly, but she needed to know, "Who is in charge? Who is looking after her?"

"I believe it's a gentleman named Macintosh, or something like that."

Megan nodded faintly, reassured. Mac wouldn't let anything happen to Normani. He would take good care of her. Secure in that thought, she slept and healed.

Dana Owens looked down at her sleeping child. She thought of the other young woman who had spent so many hours beside this bed, holding her daughter's hand, stroking her hair, whispering to her in low loving tones. She knew whatever battles her daughter had been waging, those long dark hours had been made lighter by this woman's presence.

Dana wondered if either of them understood the depth of their connection, which perhaps could only be appreciated by someone standing outside the circle of their intimacy. She knew her daughter's sense of duty well enough to know that Megan would not have allowed anything to transpire between them. It was just as clear to her that despite their best intentions, something very significant had.

Dana walked down the hall to the pay phone and held the slip of paper in her hand as she punched in the numbers that had been written there for her.

"This is Dana Owens," she began when a male voice answered. She was told to wait a moment, and then a woman spoke anxiously into the phone.

"Yes? Is she–"

"She's awake. Weak, but otherwise, she seems to be quite all right."

A moment of silence, then a voice that shook slightly. "Thank you so much for calling me."

Dana hesitated a second, then continued, "She asked about you immediately."

Normani took a sharp breath. God, how she wanted to be there when Megan awoke. When it was clear that the Secret Service agent was out of danger, the White House and Secret Service had put unbearable pressure upon her to be sequestered in a safe house until the investigation could be carried out. She hadn't wanted to leave Megan's side, but she couldn't fight everyone alone. Even Mac had gently told her that Megan would have wished for her to go. It was when he reminded her that Megan had nearly died trying to keep her safe that Normani finally relented. Nevertheless, leaving Megan had been the hardest thing she had ever done. She felt like she was leaving her heart behind.

"Could you tell her... tell her I–," Normani halted in cowardice. Megan would never believe her.

"I think you'll have to tell her that yourself when the time is right," Dana said gently.

"Yes, of course," Normani said swiftly, her emotions now firmly under control. She thanked Megan's mother and hung up the phone. She turned away, knowing that there would never be a time when she could share with Megan what was in her heart.

...

Hi readers ☺️,

So, Megan is alive! Thank God. I'm excited to hear your thoughts!

Thoughts on Megan's experience at the hospital? Normani staying by her side and holding her hand? Any thoughts on meeting Megan's mother for the first time?

Thoughts on Dana having that phone call with Normani? What Normani wanted to say, but ultimately didn't? Do y'all think they'll ever have the chance to have that conversation?

Any other lingering feelings or predictions? Let me know here!

As always, thank you all so much for reading, favoriting, and generously leaving feedback! It means the world. I'm gonna go work on some new chapters coming for y'all now, don't wanna keep anyone waiting! See y'all again soon for the next update! 🤍