Ebele and I walk silently back to the hospital where we had left Chris much earlier that day. Sometimes I nearly forget she's there at all.

Chris' pale face, clammy hands, his left arm swollen to the point of being three times bigger than his right... That image of him is all I can see. That image is the very thing that is pushing me back towards him and making me feel like giving up.

My stomach is still basically empty, my throat is still parched, but I can't feel any of that right now.

I'm so caught up inside my own head that I don't notice when we've made it back to the hospital. Ebele has to grab my arm to keep me from walking right past it.

There are a couple groups standing around, either crying, hugging, or praying.

I gaze up toward the very well kept brick building before spinning around and getting the first words I've said since talking to Jill out of my mouth.

"How will we know when we can go see him?"

Ebele responds, "I believe there are people in charge of coming to find the families."

I hardly have time to take in a deep breath before she scares me with, "Should be soon. If there was anything they could do, they probably have done it."

And that's it.

That simple statement, this fact of reality that seems obvious enough hits me and steals my breath for a moment.

If there was anything that they could do...

So either he's in there right now... Or he's gone.

<><><><><><>

We must've waited a good half hour before a young female doctor finally comes out calling in her native tongue.

Ebele rushes up to her and I follow so closely behind that I'm basically stepping on her heels.

The doctor gives me a look and some words are exchanged between her and Ebele.

Ebele glances sadly over her shoulder at me for a spilt second and it's enough to make my paranoia spike.

"Is he ok?" I whisper, even though they're still talking. "Can I go see him?"

The doctor lays her eyes on me as Ebele turns to face me head on. She then gives me a small smile. "He alright, but-"

I ignore the fact that there was a conjunction in that sentence and immediately tear into the hospital.

The small, yet tidy entrance gives way to a hall with maybe five rooms for patients.

I skid to a sudden stop as soon as I'm in the building. Not more than five seconds later, the doctor rushed in behind me, her eyes wild.

She looks at me and holds her hands up. I just nod; I don't know how else to answer.

She then makes her way in front of me and waves for me to follow.

Every step is heavy, every step feels like a mile until we're at the second door in the hall.

She opens it slowly, and I bust in the first chance I get, not even having time to feel rude.

He's ok.

He's alive, he's breathing.

He's looking at me, heck he's smiling at me.

And I'm so fixed on that fact that I almost miss what's right in front of me.

A gasp escapes me and my hands fly over my mouth. I shake my head slowly and whisper, "Oh Chris..."

Chris' smile fades slightly as he looks down at a bandaged stump where his left arm used to be.

"Yeah..." he sighs.

I just stand there in shocked silence, shaking my head and fighting the tears.

Chris sighs again and says, "Hey. It's ok. I wouldn't be alive if they didn't do this. The junk in the bullet was quickly spreading. Another half hour and it could've gotten to my heart and then..." He shrugs, "Game over."

I force my feet to move, one in front of the other. Standing at his bedside, I whisper, "I'm so sorry, it's all my fault, I'm so, so, so, sorry, I-"

"Odette," he laughs sadly. "How is this your fault?"

"I dragged you into this, I- I-"

"Did you fire the gun?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" I ask.

He raises his eyebrows. "Everything?"

I smile mournfully and look at the floor.

"It's ok, Odette."

I keep my head down and sneak a look up at him.

"At least I'm right handed," he laughs.

I whip my head up and he waves his right hand around like he's doing "jazz hands."

I let myself chuckle and intertwine my fingers into his. Staring at our hands I mumble, "I'm just so sorry. If I could... Go back and change... Everything I-"

"Odette!" Chris laughs. "Come on now. Can you tell me to shut up or that I'm an idiot or something because you're freaking me out."

My mouth obeys him without my consent and mumbles, "Shut up."

I catch myself and Chris starts laughing.

"HaHA! THERE she is!!!" he rejoices.

I disconnect my hand from his and whack him on his good shoulder.

He coughs a little bit but it sounds more like the common cold and less like a death sentence.

"Ummm Odette? Don't treat me any different when we get come because of this, ok?" Chris begs, suddenly getting serious.

I smirk. "Not at all. I'll still go all out in pillow fights and you still have to carry your own popcorn bowels."

"Ha-ha," Chris says sarcastically, sending a grin my way.

"But seriously," he says. "I don't want things to be different between us."

I tear my eyes away from him for a second, thinking.

"But... How could they not be?" I ask, laughing slightly.

I turn my eyes back towards him and he looks at me solemnly.

"Aw shucks," he says. "Maybe we've... grown in a way but we haven't changed."

I smile at him. Then, I plop down on the side of the bed and gently, yet enthusiastically throw my arms around him.

"Whatever," I mumble as we hold each other. "At least we're both still here."