As the doctor scrubbed around the bullet wound in wide streaks, leaving John's skin tinged reddish brown, Xhex walked around his feet in a daze.
Actually, this was a better position. She was right next to an orange bio-hazard bin--so if she needed to throw up, she was good to go.
"The reason the bullet has to be removed is because it's going to cause trouble over time. If he were a less active guy, I might leave it in. But I think being extra-conservative in a soldier is best. Plus you guys heal so fast." Doc Jane discarded the sponge in Xhex's bin. "Based on my experience with you, any injury to the bone will regenerate by tomorrow night."
Xhex wondered if the doctor or the nurse was aware that the floor underneath all of their feet was moving in waves. Because it sure as shit felt like they were standing on the deck of a boat.
Quick check of the professionals and both seemed steady as rocks.
"I'm going to make an incision"--Doc Jane leaned over the leg with the knife--"here. What you're going to see directly under the skin is the fascia, which is the tough outer casing that's responsible for keeping our insides together. Your average human would have fat cells between the two, but John's in great shape. Beneath the fascia is the muscle."
Xhex bent at the waist, intending to take a rudimentary glance . . . except she stayed where she was.
As Doc Jane drew the blade again, the sinewy wrapper pulled back, exposing deep pink ropes of muscle . . . which had a hole through them. Staring at the internal damage, Xhex wanted to kill that slayer all over again. And Jesus, Rhage had been right. A couple of inches up and to the left and John would have been--
Yeah, let's not go there, she thought as she repositioned herself for an even better look.
"Suction," Doc Jane said.
There was a hissing sound and Ehlena put a small white hose down and cleared away John's red blood.
"Now, I'm actually going to use my finger to probe--sometimes the human touch is best. . . ."
Xhex ended up watching the whole operation. Start to finish, from the first cut to the last stitch and all the retracting and lead removal in between.
". . . and that's it," Doc Jane said about forty-five minutes later.
As Ehlena bandaged John's leg and the doctor recalibrated whatever was getting pumped into his vein, Xhex picked the bullet off the tray and looked the thing over. So small. So damned small. But capable of creating havoc of the mortal kind.
"Good job, Doc," she said harshly as she slipped the thing into her pocket.
"Let me bring him around so you can look in his eyes and know that he's really all right."
"You read minds?"
The physician's eyes were ancient as they lifted. "Nope. Have just had a lot of experience with families and friends. You're going to need to see the eyes before you take a deep breath. And he's going to feel the same way when he looks up into your face."
John regained consciousness about eight minutes later. Xhex timed it, checking the wall clock.
As his lids rose, she was right next to his head and holding his hand. "Hey . . . you're back."
He was groggy, which was to be expected. But that bright blue stare was exactly as it had always been, and the way he squeezed her hand left nothing in doubt--he was back with a vengeance.
The breath Xhex hadn't been aware of holding slowly eased out of her lungs, a singing relief elevating her mood sure as if her heart had been put on a rocket to the moon. And Doc Jane had been right about staying. As soon as Xhex got involved listening and seeing and learning, the panic receded until it was just a quiet hum that she could control. And it was fascinating, the way the body was put together.
Okay? John mouthed.
"Yup, Doc Jane got the bullet out just fine--"
John shook his head. You? Okay?
God . . . damn, she thought. He was such a male of worth.
"Yeah," she said roughly. "Yeah, I am . . . and thanks for asking."
Staring down at him, she realized that she hadn't allowed herself to think too much about how she'd saved his life.
Man, she'd always known she was good with a blade. But she'd never thought that skill would matter as much as it had during that split second in that nasty-ass farmhouse.
A blink of an eye later and . . . no John. For anyone, anymore.
Ever.
The mere thought of that made her panic come back full force, her palms getting sweaty, her heart not so much beating as flipping out in her chest. She knew they were going their separate ways after all this was over . . . but that didn't seem to matter in the slightest when she considered a world in which he didn't breathe or laugh or fight or do the sort of kindnesses he shared with all around him.
What, he mouthed.
She shook her head. "It's nothing."
Yeah, what a lie that was.