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.

And now look where that had gotten him.

In a hospital bed while doctors fought to extract a bullet from inside his chest. Fighting blood loss, hovering over the brink of life or death.

Damnit—I hurt everyone!

Everyone who ever got close to her—her mentor, Azeal, and now Alec...

She couldn't lose him. She couldn't.

She wouldn't.

If he didn't make it out alright—the bounty hunter swore with all her being; she would kill him.

* *

It had been half an hour later when the faculty could no longer make an exception, and ordered her—for her own sake at the very least—to allow one of the nurses to help clean her up. Unable to find it within herself to cause trouble and argue, Maize obliged tiredly.

The young nurse's name was Jane—according to the thin silver name tag on her scrubs—and she gently told Maize the story of how she was a newly graduated med student, and how she had been working for six months in this hospital so far helping out with recovery patients. Trying to distract her was what the underlying reason for telling her all this was, something Maize knew, but didn't care to call her out on. Perhaps she didn't really mind hearing about the young woman's medical school exams if it kept her calm enough to allow the woman to help her clean the dried blood from her skin—since Maize struggled, barely able to look down. Jane seemed to sympathize, and never forced anything too quickly.

She was later handed a pair of black jogging pants and a fresh shirt—Jane's own, she was told, the pair she brought to change into after a long day of work. When Maize tried to refuse her politely enough, the nurse had only smiled and told her she needed them more and that it was alright.

He will be alright too. Those were the unspoken words that hung in the air between them. Not a promise, but enough assurance...the kind Maize needed to hear so desperately.

After that, Jane—needed elsewhere—had left Maize with the set of clothes beside a bathroom where she could change, and since they didn't appear to be that different in size apart from Maize's more toned muscular structure, the clothes fit fine. She was no longer filthy with blood—though the ghosting weight of in on her hands did not quite disappear, it had helped.

When she returned to check on the emergency room where the detective was being taken care of minutes later, she stopped with surprise at the sight of the doctor she had met earlier, closing the door of the room as he exited. He was out, that meant the surgery was done, that meant—Alec! She was over in an instant and rushing towards the door with steps of apprehension and urgency to see him, just to see if he was ok—that he was ok, but the doctor's hand shot out to stop her before she could reach for the handle and he gave her a small apologetic glance.

Maize's blood turned to ice.

"What it is? Is he alright? Let me see him--" she looked to the door again just as the doctor—Doctor Brock—cleared his throat, halting her with a calming look.

"He is fine, though still asleep," he said to her. And Maize thought she might drop to her knees in relief at just those few small words. Her panic ceased, but her agency to see him didn't. She glanced permissively at the Doctor but Brock gave her that apologetic look again. "I'm sorry, I know you have been waiting...somewhat cooperatively to see him since you both arrived, but family is with him right now."

"Family...?" Maize repeated confusedly, frowning slightly questioning at the doctor. "But...Alec told me he doesn't—" she cut herself off with a jerk. Then who the hell did they just let into his room?

Maize tried to shove past the doctor and get through, and again he tried to stop her—just barely. Fear clenched in her throat and she snapped to know whoever was in there—an enemy? A gang member? If Silan had followed them here who's to say no one else had? And come to finish the job? It wasn't until a voice from inside spoke through the door did she stop fighting.

"She may come in."

That voice...she knew that voice.

There was a soft click and the door was gently pulled opened. Maize stood still in front of the room, facing the person standing in the doorway with a barely contained expression of shock. It didn't fade, even as she was nodded permission to enter the room and the door fell closed behind her. However, those sudden thoughts left her the instant she laid eyes on her detective, supported in a hospital bed, still wearing the jeans he had been when he was brought in, meanwhile his shirt appeared to have been taken—cut off, she guessed, from how much blood there had been and how it must have stuck to his body—the upper torso that was now clearly wrapping in white bandages, slightly reddened at the area a few inches under his right collar bone. His hair was tousled, and his eyes were closed, but he was breathing easy. He was breathing.

Maize walked quietly over to the nearest side of the bed, trying to contain the shakiness in her limbs as she dropped down beside him, being mindful to keep from disturbing the bed, and kneeled there next to the chair as she grabbed his hand, struggling not to squeeze it. There was an IV needle sticking out, connected to what must have been a necessary blood transfusion since he had lost so much, but he was alright. He was alright.

She simple kneeled there, for several long moments, allowing all the built-up anxiety of the hours she had spent waiting to see him to slowly fade out of her. Only afterwards was she able to raise her head and turn to the other person in the room—who had remained quiet the whole time. Once again, that surprise and confusion return, muddled in with recognition.

"Captain," she breathed, trying to ignore the fact that she was still holding the sleeping detective's hand as she blinked a few times with embarrassment. Still, she did not let go, but she did stare at the chief with slightly wide eyes.

He dipped his head, a small nod of acknowledgment. Though the smile that pulled across his face looked more painful as he glanced at the bed. "I suppose, you could say I am still his family, even if he has outgrown the need for a legal guardian..." the Captain said quietly.

And suddenly it all clicked in her head.

"It was you..." she murmured, staring in silent shock. "You were the one who..." she trailed off, her words unable to continue past the lump formed in her throat, but the Captain hummed low in his chest in understanding.

"I suppose Alec told you." There was no need for more words than that, they both understood what the other was talking about. Maize nodded.

"He did." Back in Mexico, when they asked one another about their childhoods...how a young boy had wanted to grow up to be like the kind officer figure who had taken him in when he had no one else...

"You're the only person I've ever known him share that story to," he answered gently, a soft smile gracing his expression as Maize thought she saw his eyes glance down once at where her hand still held Alecs, but she couldn't bring herself to feel much embarrassment. Not when the only thing she could feel was relief that her partner and her friend was alright.

"Why didn't he tell anyone?" Maize asked out loud, seeking to fill the silence as well as understand why he hadn't just told her before.

"He's never been one who shares his past openly, and so to respect that, I said nothing either. I suppose it was good for him as well, he is one of my brightest young detectives—son or no my opinion does not change on that—but, naturally, I didn't want any of his accomplishments to be seen in my name, or anything short of his own hard work. The kid is stubborn, to say the least, and sometimes I feel like that only ever pushed him harder." The Captain glanced down at her with a look she hadn't seen anyone give her since her mentor... "You two are quite alike in that respect. I'm just glad it seems you have both finally begun to realize that," he said, this time nodded blatantly at their connected hands and its implications. Maize couldn't help but bark a short, quiet sort of laugh.

"I guess so," she replied.

A few minutes later, after the easy silence, the Captain rose and headed for the door. "I'm going to get a couple of coffees," he declared. He was giving her some time alone with him. She smiled gratefully just as he stopped at the edge of the open door. "Oh and Maize, if he happens to wake up before I get back, don't be too hard on him alright? At least not the second he opens his eyes."

She responded, "No promises, Sir."

You guys thought I would DARE kill my baby?? What kind of author do you think I am?!?! *huffs dramatically in 'offended house-cat'*