“Back From the Dead”

Alex drifted in and out of consciousness, completely unaware of where he was and what was happening to him. The last thing he remembered was seeing Abby’s scared face in the dark as she plunged the knife into his chest. He remembered the pain as well as the shock when he looked down and realized what she’d done. That’s when he hit the floor.

He didn’t remember anything that happened with Dwayne or Alistair or about when the paramedics came or his trip to the hospital in the back of the ambulance with Cort. Hell, he wasn’t even aware Cort or anyone else was even involved in what happened.

He’d thought for sure he’d died, his whole life had flashed before him there on that hard marble floor lying in Abby’s foyer. All of the good things, all of the bad. At one point, he even found himself back in the war – looking down at all those innocent people, dead because of him, dead because of what he and his unit had been ordered to do. Then he’d heard Abby crying, begging him not to leave her. She needed him to stay, she’d made a mistake, thought he was her husband. He felt himself floating back, back to her, back to consciousness. Where was she? What had happened? He had to get to her, had to make sure she was safe.

He woke up in the hospital, unaware of how he’d gotten there or how long he’d been unconscious. His chest hurt like hell, as did his head. He remembered vaguely hitting the back of it when he’d fallen back on the floor. His eyes managed to flutter open, the bright hospital lights hurting them and blurring his vision some. Wires and tubes were attached everywhere on him it seemed. He tried to follow them with his eyes, tried to make out what each was for, but couldn’t keep his eyes focused.

Suddenly, Alex became vaguely aware that someone was standing in front of him, they were speaking but he couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying. He tried to reach out his arm to them, tried to sit up, but the pain was too much. He let out a loud moan and fell back on the bed, gasping Abby’s name.

“Mr. Ross,” he heard the female voice say to him, “Please try and lie still or you’ll reopen your wound.”

Alex tried to nod, but his head felt as though it were made of lead. The pain was becoming more unbearable by the moment. He opened his mouth, only managing a strangled moan.

“Are you in much pain?” the nurse asked him, realizing the medication they’d given him earlier must be wearing off.

He closed his eyes, managed to whisper, “Pain... yes.”

“I’ll go get you something to help with it,” she told him, leaving the room.

Alex laid there, trying to get through the next waves of pain that were coming stronger now. He felt nauseous, too, felt himself began to throw up, but was unable to control it or aim it away from himself.

When the nurse returned with the pain meds she immediately injected it into Alex’s IV, then went about cleaning up the mess he’d made of himself.

“Better?” she asked, when she’d done, noticing his more relaxed expression.

He nodded, then quietly drifted back off into unconsciousness.