Smash!

•F I F T Y•

Jamie's POV

We ended up in the place I should have gone to in the very beginning.

"Calling Doctor Bronner." A tired voice booms high over my head in the PA system. People rush around me, but all I can make out are the blues and purples of the scrubs. There's a lady crying in the corner.

"You have a concussion." Is that all? No, it has to be much worse. Broken ribs or a punctured lung at least. Someone has to put me on life support because I can't breathe. I can't move. I can't even stand up.

An hour later I end up in the waiting room of the emergency room. I should be praying, or maybe I should be crying. But I was told that all I can do is wait. I'm just hurting. Throbbing and aching, but completely still in the hard chair. I haven't moved a muscle, back as straight as when I was first told to wait here.

"Wait here." Robin is escorted by a team of nurses, a tired security guard, and an IV drip rolling behind her that's taped to her the inside of her arm. They're not too nice about it as they handcuff her wrist to the chair next to me. The shiny metal set matches the exact same one on my arm that isn't plastered in a fresh cast, handcuffing me to the arm of the chair. She looks just as bad as I do. Her fishnets stockings are ripped up, huge gaps at random places like the back of her knee and at the curve of her thigh. Her brown hair is matted, knotted from all the time Nate's fist pulled at it. The sleeve of her jacket is threatening to tear for good, holding on by the just seams. It's hard to look at the rest of her clothes, so stained from Riley's blood the nurses offered her a change of a paper gown.

She falls back in her seat, tucking her blood splattered combat boots under the chair so we don't have to look at them. Her face is stark white under the florescent lights, the only color in her face is the soot, the dried blood coating all the way up to the tips of her ears, and the nasty bruises staining her face.

"Jamie?" She croaks, her voice so small I can barely hear it. When I don't answer, she sticks a cigarette between her teeth, and tries to light in one handily with a lighter she pulls out of her boot.

"You can't smoke in a hospital." I speak for the first time in hours, my voice hoarse from screaming. I hadn't realized I was clamping my teeth down so hard that my jaw hurts when I finally move it to speak.

"If I had ever had to argue about whether or not I need to smoke, trust me, this is the best time to have a smoke." The lighter keeps missing from her shaking hands. After a minute, she takes a monstrous inhale and holds her breath as if she's diving under water. After a few minutes, she's lighting another one.

"Hey Jamie?" Robin asks. She takes the cue of my lack of words fine. "Thank you for coming back for me." I can't muster up any words, and damn it, I want to. Robin knows I'm trying from just my quivering lip, reaching her hand out to grab mine till the metal cuff digs into her skin.

"They won't let me see him." Robin rasps, hugging her knees to her chest, but her hand stays firm around mine.

Later

"Do you need a bathroom break?" A new security guard comes over to us, handing me back our bagged up possessions. This one just as tired as the night guard before him. With Robin asleep in her chair, her head on my shoulder the only way she could fall asleep without crying in her sleep, I just managed a shake of the head.

"Then you'll have to wait till the detective comes to question you." So it's not like in the movies. There's no police helicopters coming to your rescue, or SWAT teams busting into the scene. The police didn't even question us, a nurse did. From the ICU to the emergency rooms, everything is over crowded with patients who are bleeding a lot more than the two of us. They bandaged us up, refused to give us anything but Tylenol. It was either leave us strapped to a cot in the hallway, or this; us waiting up all night in chairs till the next detective can come in.