The elevator whooshes down and we push her in, quickly.

I lean down and whisper into her ear. “Hey Hottie, you’re safe, you’re here at the hospital, I’m gonna take care of you and you’re gonna be fine. They got him, you’re safe. You just rest and get better and let us do the rest.”

“‘Arah…” she whispers. Liquid relief floods my body. She’s there.

“Yeah, honey, I’m here.” I bite my lip and stroke her hair with one hand, her good hand with the other. “You’re safe, we’re taking care of you.” I take her good hand in mine and squeeze. “I love you, sweetie, I’ll see you in a little while.”

Her eyes close and she moans softly, a moan that could mean anything.

I walk as far as the OR doors and wince as I let go of her hand. They push her quickly through and I stand there, hand pressed to my mouth. My innards are shaking. My whole body and soul are shaking. What do I do now? Maybe a good goal would be to stop shaking.

Darrell crushes me into his arms, and this is good, because without this pressure I might fly apart into pieces. “She’s gonna be okay, baby. She was starting to come out of the shock. Rowan’s the best vascular surgeon we got; she’ll be fine.”

But her arm. Gray skin, cold. How could it come back to life? If they have to amputate, it will kill her.

And I am sobbing like I haven’t sobbed since I was a child, until the muscles of my stomach ache with it. The horrible ragged sound of it is loud in the hushed and sterile halls, and Darrell just holds me.

I’ve never been held like this by a man, not even Navi. He is so big and solid. I automatically compare him to Shane, and when I think of her fragile body in there, pale and bleeding, I sob.

“Darrell.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh my god.” Oh my god. It’s all I can say.

We stand like that for a while, until I start to feel foolish, and pull away. “Come on,” he says gently. “I’m relieving you as charge, but I need to go downstairs.”