Until Then

Chapter 20 (Continued)

Quinn

A nurse comes around a helps me move from the hospital bed to the small table I need to be on in order to fit into the CT machine. The technician helps me get as comfortable as possible and then the dye gets injected into my IV port. I'm told what to expect and then I lie still as they begin to slide me inside the large circle.

They disappear into another room and I'm left in the darkness of the small tube I'm inside. "Relax. You will hear some clicking, but try to stay still." A voice booms from inside the machine. I close my eyes when a feeling of claustrophobia begins to build and tangle with my already anxious thoughts.

"This reminds me of a prank my friend Wes pulled one night." Pines' voice is low and comforting. I release a breath but keep my eyes shut so my brain can't see just how little space I have. "We were in the sandbox, and were all hanging out inside our tent. We were still adjusting to the time zone change, but none of us would admit how tired we really were."

I feel myself smiling. He chuckles quietly and then continues. "We were playing poker since there wasn't much else to do and Liam just couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. We started giving him shit about being a baby and needing a nap, but he just gave us all the finger and tucked himself into his rack."

I pictured Pines in my head and tried to focus on his voice instead of the clicking and banging sounds of the machine. He moved a little closer and made that task easier for me. I could hear him at my feet, just outside the tube and I felt more comfortable knowing he was so close.

"We waited for him to fall asleep, then decided we were going to haze him a bit for being the first to give in. He would fight back against anything we'd try as soon as he woke up, so we came up with a plan to make sure he wouldn't be able to stop us. Wes was the ringleader and came up with the idea that we should write something on his forehead. Wes and Lucas grabbed the edges of his blankets that hung over at his sides, and I agreed to help secure his head. Mateo rolled up a towel and we carefully got it in position over his face, but not touching him just yet. With a black permanent marker, Mateo was poised and ready. He counted quietly to three and then we all pulled down on our holds, Wes and Lucas trapping him beneath his blanket while Mateo and I pinned his head to the bed with the rolled towel."

Pines laughs playfully and I can't help but relax and listen to his story. The dye has now made my body feel flushed, but I try to push that information from my mind so I can hear what happened next.

"Mateo wrote 'Oorah' on his forehead in giant block letter while Liam cursed us all out and struggled to break free. It worked perfectly and the only letter that got smudged was the second 'O,' which was unfortunate. For the next couple of days he had to walk around with what looked like 'Oprah' on his forehead." He was laughing genuinely now and I loved the sound.

"He was a good sport," he says, his laugher falling away, replaced by a deeper tone of respect and reverie. "When marines asked about it he'd just say with a completely straight face that he was the president of her book club and wanted to show some support for the TV icon. Most of the time the guys looked shocked, but didn't dare say anything. He was just that convincing, and he'd lock his eyes onto them so intensely I think they questioned his sanity."

The sounds in the machine stopped, and before I knew it the technicians were back. They helped me off of the table and back into the hospital bed. The whole time I watched the handsome marine leaning up against the once scary machine. He'd done something very nice for me and it made me feel weak kneed and dizzy.

He walked in front of us this time as we made our way back to my small sectioned of area of the ER. I felt like he was on watch. His broad shoulders and tall frame made me feel safe as he led the way down the busy hall. Every once in a while he would turn and look at me over his shoulder to make sure we were still behind him and I tried not to let him see the way that small gesture made my cheeks feel warm and my heart pound wildly inside my chest.

Once I was settled back behind the curtain and the brakes on the bed had been set, we were alone again. He sat down in the chair and I wondered again why I was able to see him while others weren't. "Pines," I started cautiously. His big blue eyes looked up into mine and I felt myself melt a little under his stare. "Why do you think I can see you?"

His chest rose and fell with a large breath and he leaned forward, closing some of the distance between us. His hesitancy to answer my question made me jumpy with anticipation. His mouth was set in a firm line across his face and I knew his answer wasn't going to be as playful and fun as the story he'd just told me. He looked down to his boots as if to take a second to make sure what he was going to say wouldn't hurt me as badly as it was so clearly hurting him. Then he looked back up into my eyes with a gaze that told me just how sorry he was, and then he said, "I think you might be dying." 

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