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She spoke and almost brought me back to my knees. There was no other place I'd rather be.
"London where's my....Look, I'm sorry for ruining your wedding. If you hate me, fine, but tell me, where's James...I need to see him."
"Easy. Both of you." Zach stepped in between us, and the EMT who was coming to check on London stepped back, feeling the strain in our conversation. "Baby, you were in the OR with Sullivan, and no one knows where he is. If he left you alone in there and left, I'll..."
"He saved my life." Nestling under her husband's arm, London looked at me, and there was a conglomerate of emotions fighting in her blue pools. Ultimately, the guilt won. "He jumped in front of a bullet for me. Rita, I'm so, so sorry..."
"No, no he can't be...I need to get to him. I have to go right now." I was not entirely sure what I was saying or what I was doing. I was too high on adrenaline, but I couldn’t escape Zach's tight grip.
"You can't go in there." Ha, funny he said that.
"The shooter is in custody; he was arrested." I could see the struggle behind the apparent calm London tried to portray. "He was shot, but doctors already attended to him. He was lucid. Rita, you can't go in there...the...the guy was looking for James."
"Baby, what are you saying? Why would the shooter look for James?" Yeah, why?
Why would anyone wish harm on James? How dare they?
London opened her moth to speak but stopped immediately looked at me. That was when I knew. Everything could be read on her face. James was shot by a man who came here to hunt him.
Lord.
I would have crashed to the ground if it wasn't for Zach's body to be my support. My eyes fell on the blood staining my hands.
"He is here. Trujillo found me." The whisper belonged to me, but it was the voice of a stranger. It was the shaking voice of a girl who died months ago in Boston. The scared Rita; the broken, always afraid Rita. I wished I'd never see her again, but now he's here.
"Who?" Zachary asked, and London answered him. Trujillo, my husband and tormentor. "Shit, Rita, I have to get you out of here, and you, babe, I want you checked out."
"Zachary I was not harmed. I put pressure on James's lesion to stop the bleeding, that's all."
"London," I cried like a wounded animal, "please take me to him. What if he doesn't make it?"
"Hey, no! He will be fine. Listen, both of you, James was shot in the hip, but from what I could tell, only the bone was affected. He didn't even fall down. Actually, he launched himself at that maniac and put him in a coma."
"Sullivan did what?"
Good question, Zachary.
"Yeah, his face will never be the same. His teeth were left behind on the OR floor. James is fine, everyone is fine. They will clean his wound and stitch him up, and we can all see him after."
"Rita and I will see him. I'm calling Paris to come and pick you up; you're going home, take a bath, and don't leave our bedroom...ever again." The release in his voice put me at ease.
I could have cried again, shouting thanks to the sky, but that was enough. No more fucking tears. I was done.
"Fucking shit, Sandra, that hurt," I barked at the resident and bit my tongue. "I'm sorry, Dr. Brooks, the adrenalin is fading."
"No problem, sir. You are my boss and a hero, so curse me out. I have to deep clean your wound though, and it's going to sting."
I fucking knew.
"I'm not a hero. I did what everyone else would have done."
"Mhm, everyone would jump in front of a bullet and single handedly disarm and, umm, beat the shit out of an attacker."
I would have done worse if the SWAT team hadn’t have pushed me down on him. My mind was blank at the time; all I wanted was to give him a little fraction of what I saw on Rita's face that night she thought I was going to hit her.
Now that the shock was gone, everything felt surreal. A gun. A man. London. The patient...
The only real casualty couldn’t even fall on the shoulders of the shooter; it was on mine. If I hadn’t have let Hoover try and maneuver that needle...
