Rosa pushed the door open with her shoulder, her hands stiff from the bandages that wrapped across her ribs. The room smelled of antiseptic and too much bleach, that sharp hospital tang that made her want to gag. For a moment, she just stood there, leaning against the doorframe, letting her eyes find him.
Ray was lying on the bed, motionless except for the steady rise and fall of his chest. Wires trailed from under his gown into monitors that beeped with a rhythm that was both reassuring and irritating. His skin was pale, his face too still. She hated it.
The stool beside the bed scraped softly against the floor when she dragged it closer. She lowered herself down with a heavy sigh. Even with the painkillers dulling the worst of it, every move made her body flare with pain. She has been sitting straight for at least an hour or so. Plus the tension. She ignored all of it.
For a while, Rosa just watched him. The machine kept ticking. His chest kept moving. That should have been enough. It was proof he was alive, and yet it was not enough to shut down the swirl of thoughts crowding her skull.
"You look stupid in that gown," she muttered. Her voice came out rough. "Who designs these things? It's like they want you to feel powerless."
Ray did not move.
She let out a low laugh, the kind that scraped against her throat. "Of course you don't care. You could wear a trash bag and still act like you're running the show." She leaned forward a little, her fingers brushing the cool rail of the bed. "It's annoying. You're annoying."
Her vision blurred for a second, and she blinked it away.
"I don't… do this," she whispered, almost daring herself to say it out loud. "I don't sit by people's beds. I don't wait around like some character in a bad romance movie."
The silence answered her, thick and heavy. She shifted on the stool, ribs aching, but she refused to let the pain win.
"You're not supposed to get hurt like this," she went on, her voice sharper now. "You're supposed to be the guy who takes bullets and keeps walking. You make the rest of us look like amateurs. Hell, you didn't even get a scratch during the mall shootout. And then this happens. And I…" She bit down on her lip, jaw clenched hard. "I can't handle it."
She pressed the heel of her hand against her eyes until stars flickered in the dark. The pain was good. It pulled her back from the edge of losing control.
When she dropped her hand again, Ray looked exactly the same.
He looked peaceful.
"You know what the worst part is?" she asked him. "I wasn't there with you. Maybe things would've been different if I were there with you. I could've at least taken a bullet for you, you know?"
She leaned closer, resting her arm against the bed, close enough that the faint heat from his skin brushed against hers.
"I don't say things, Ray. Not like Jake or Gina. They spill every thought like it's nothing. Me? I keep it locked up. Always have. But you… you make me feel like I don't have to." She gave a small, bitter laugh. "I hate that. I hate how easy it is. I hate how much I…" The word caught in her throat, stuck like glass.
Her nose ached when she sniffed. She sat there for a long moment, trying to swallow down everything she had just let out.
"You asked me to move in," she said finally. Her voice was steadier now, but still low. "And I was so happy and scared at the same time... I was afraid that if I let it happen, if I let myself want it, the universe would try to rip it away. Like this."
Her fingers twitched against the sheets, wanting to grip his hand but afraid to. Afraid of what it would mean if he didn't squeeze back.
"I don't care about the horses or the stuff or even the motorcycles in your garage. I care about…" She exhaled hard, frustrated at herself. "I care about you. That's all."
The monitor beeped, steady, indifferent.
"I need you to wake up," Rosa said. Her tone shifted, almost a growl. "I need you to open your eyes and tell me I'm being ridiculous. Or tell me I'm right. Or tell me to shut up. I don't care which. Just don't leave me sitting here, talking like some idiot who can't control her mouth."
Her hand finally gave in. She slid it across the bed and caught his fingers. They were warm, not limp, but heavy. She gripped tighter, leaning down so that her forehead almost touched the edge of the mattress.
"You told me once that I don't have to be tough around you," she whispered. "So fine. I'm not tough right now. I'm scared. And I hate it. But I'm not walking away. Not ever."
Ray couldn't hold it anymore. He simply gave her hand a little squeeze and mumbled loud enough for her to hear. "Don't act surprised. I'm sorry for making you worry. Keep up the gloomy face. Yes. I heard everything. And kindly, don't bring out that axe or combat knife you are carrying. Just speak softly and ask away anything you want, and yes, I did get shot three times and it hurts like a bitch."
Rosa jerked upright, her hand clamped around his. Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper, almost a hiss. "What the hell? How are you even awake right now? You just got operated on. You're supposed to be unconscious."
Ray's lips curved into that crooked grin she wanted to smack and kiss at the same time. His voice was low, teasing. "Remember what I told you back then? About how I got thrown into a tank of radioactive meth sludge four years ago?"
Her eyes widened. She almost forgot how to breathe. "You… you weren't kidding about that?"
"Yeah," he whispered, eyes locked on hers. "It's real. Certain things I said to you might sound stupid or unbelievable, but they happened. Very few people know about this, and I wanted to keep it that way. If Amy wasn't with me that day, I wouldn't have to pretend like this. Like I can't go around announcing, I got crazy powers... Can I now? And right now, I just couldn't see you sad."
Her grip tightened, jaw working as she tried to process it. "So you're telling me… you've got some kind of freak super healing? Endurance? Stamina?"
Ray nodded slowly. "Pretty much. Still figuring out the limits, but yeah. That's how I'm awake here right now instead of being out cold."
Rosa leaned back a little, shaking her head, whispering with disbelief. "You're like Deadpool." Then her eyes narrowed, a spark of mischief cutting through the fear. "With a nice face."
Ray smirked faintly. "You could say that. Though I'm still getting used to it. Trust me, it's not all fun."
Her expression hardened again. "So if I stab you… or chop off your hand, or your fingers… they'll grow back?"
His brow furrowed as he gave her a pointed look. "Isn't it worrying how fast your brain jumped to stabbing and chopping me?"
Rosa just gave him that flat, unblinking stare. The one that usually made everyone else shut up instantly.
Ray let out a breath and shook his head. "Fair enough." He squeezed her hand again. "Okay, how about this. You can have my BMW S 1000 RR. No stabbing or chopping necessary."
Rosa's lips twitched like she was almost smiling. "Aprilia RSV4 R," she whispered back. "And I'll stab you twice. Just to check if your miracle power is real."
Ray groaned softly, his head sinking into the pillow. "Fine. Stab away. But if you take the Aprilia, I expect visitation rights."
Rosa arched an eyebrow, leaning closer, her voice a low growl in his ear. "That depends on whether you bleed all over my floor."
For a moment, they just stared at each other. The tension in the room wasn't from fear anymore, but from the kind of intimacy Rosa had spent years running from. His hand was warm, his heartbeat steady, and for the first time since the call came in that he had been shot, her chest loosened a little.
"You're insane," she whispered finally.
"And you're scary," Ray whispered back. His smirk softened. "It works."
She let out a quiet laugh, the sound muffled, rough, but real. It wasn't relief yet, not fully, but it was close enough. She stood up and leaned forward until her forehead brushed against his. "Don't ever make me sit by your bed like that again," she whispered. Her voice shook, but she didn't care anymore. "If you die, I'll shoot everyone around me and then kill myself."
Ray chuckled under his breath. "Hey, you can't go maniac on others and then kill yourself. Just imagine the news headlines... Rosa Diaz, the axe maniac, slaughtered twenty people and shot herself. That doesn't sound good. Don't do that."
"Shut up! Don't ruin the moment," Rosa mumbled as she kissed him softly, and she felt so good. It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted off her back.
After a few seconds, she pulled back...
"I'm still stabbing you," she muttered, settling back on the stool.
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AN: Didn't feel good, not saying anything to her. So, decided to reveal it.
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[25 advance chs] [No double billing.]
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