Bounty Hunter [REWRITTEN VERSION]

Chapter 67: Guardian

I got back into the writing mood so this chapter is...well, you'll see :)

*Little heads up* Hehe, uh...how funny would it be if I killed Alec? Give this story a tragic ending? Hmmm...?

*Hides from the swords being verbally thrown on my tail*

Ok, forget I asked—find out for yourself and read on!

MAIZE

Hours. It had been hours since she had been waiting, standing leaned against the hallway wall of one of the less occupied areas on the building's second level, still covered in blood. She had never liked being in hospitals—considering the few times she was forced to on account of serious injuries that couldn't be taken care of through a few stitching or bandages in her career—the walls were too white, everything too pale, the smell of metal and bleach and inescapable tang in the air. It reminded her of the dried coat of red that stained her hands, her clothes, her face.

For that reason, Maize could barely stand to look down at herself, or her hands, knowing that the sight of his blood would most likely be enough to make her throw up. So much...there had been so much by the time the paramedics and cops had arrived on the scene, surrounding her, all over him, pouring from him. Her stomach rolled. She wasn't going to feel sick—sickness was already in her, threatening to rise from her throat each time she caught a flash of red from the peripheral of her vision.

But she couldn't wash it off...she couldn't.

Waiting was agony. She was in a remote enough part of the facility that she remained out of eyesight from other patients coming either in or out of the surgical wing. The nurses tried to coax her into taking a blanket, washing off, changing her clothes, offering her tea to try and calm her down—but all they had received was a vicious look every time they tried to move her any further from the door.

She didn't blame them, it was their job, and she was sure it was against the regulations to have a person who didn't work there so close to the emergency rooms—which is why she had chosen to post herself in the corner hall, and no further. She just couldn't leave...she couldn't leave him. Not until she knew.

Was he alright? Was he going to be? What if something went wrong? The bullet struck him through the chest, he had already lost so much blood when they arrived...

No. She refused to accept that. He was stronger than that. So was she. There was no way in the nine gates of hell that the bastard detective would give up so easily, therefore she couldn't afford to either.

Even if each time the scene replayed over in her mind her chest would tighten and new racks of guilt would begin to consume her all over again.

Because looking back at it in clearer focus, she knew...In that instance right before the first bullet was fired, there had been an open opportunity, a split second where there had been just enough time—for Alec to draw his gun. She had seen him many times before, she knew how quick his reflexes when it came to firing were. He—him—he would have been the only one who had enough time to get his weapon and complete a shot, one shot—all there was time for and all that would have been needed. But he hadn't. Because while Maize could only think of him evening the odds an attacking, he had been thinking only of the shot that was coming for her. Without thinking, he had done it. Instead of defending himself, he had chosen to save her. Again.