“What the hell happened? I couldn’t see—she was blocking my view of him. I sure as hell couldn’t shoot, didn’t want to hit her. All I could see was Miller, down on the ground, like he’d been coldcocked, which I guess he was, since he’s over there.” He pointed across the room, where Miller had a bandage on his forehead. “Baldwin, what did you see? Did Lucas attack Taylor? She tried to stop him and got cut?”
Baldwin shook his head, searching for words. “I think, well, I’m not sure exactly. I just saw flashes of it as we pulled up. They were fighting. It looked like Taylor had the gun between her and his chest. She spun away from him to get a clear shot, but Gabriel had the knife up, and he lunged at her. She was moving around him. It just caught her in the neck as he went down. Freak thing... Then Taylor collapsed, and I was frozen. I didn’t move to do anything, I couldn’t, I...I just don’t know.” He fought back the tears. A strangled sob came from his throat, and Fitz held him like a little boy, murmuring words into his hair. They stayed like that for a moment, Baldwin trying to pull himself together, to be strong.
“You weren’t frozen. You were right by her side. You had your hand on her neck. You probably saved her life. Don’t you remember?”
He did, but it hadn’t felt real. He looked at his hands; though he’d washed them, there was still blood around the edges of his nails.
“Come on. Let’s get some air.” He guided Baldwin from the waiting room, down the pea-green hallway and into the ambulance bay. He leaned against the railing and pulled the ever-present cigarette from behind his ear. “I think a little toke is called for about now, don’t you?”
Baldwin stared at him blankly. “Could I have one of those?”
Fitz looked around, then fished a pack of Camels out of his front pants pocket. “Don’t tell anyone I bought these, okay? Taylor’d kill me if she knew.”
Baldwin sucked smoke into his lungs. “Ah, hell, I might’ve got her killed. She was a sitting duck.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“It was, Fitz. I think I distracted her. When she was about to shoot Gabriel she hesitated, just for a second, because she saw me come around the corner of the house.”
Fitz took a deep breath. “That’s not what I saw. She hesitated because she didn’t want to take Gabriel’s life if she didn’t have to. She was being a good cop, assessing the situation, whether to use deadly force. She was doing it right. She always does it right.”
“If she hadn’t hesitated, he wouldn’t have been able to slap at her with the knife.”
“Buddy, listen to me. Everything happens for a reason. And we saved a girl. Jill is okay. She’s with her parents upstairs somewhere. Docs say she’ll be fine, and the baby’s doing well.”
“I’m glad. I am.”
Fitz raised an eyebrow. “I heard some of what he was saying before Taylor shot him. He really thought he could create the Apocalypse and his son would be the Savior. The son of a bitch certainly succeeded in creating his progeny. A son to raise the world and to lead us to salvation. The guy’s a whack job. Too bad he didn’t survive. I hear we have enough evidence from the Granny White house to fry the son of a bitch.”
Baldwin took a long drag on the cigarette, then flicked it over the edge of the railing. “I just... I need some time to sort through all of that. I think, no, well... Fitz, we need to go back in. They may come out anytime to let us know how she is.”
Fitz put his arm around the younger man, and they walked wordlessly back through the ER.
As they rounded the corner to take them to the waiting room, Lincoln came flying down the hall, grinning, shouting to them, “She’s gonna make it! She’s going to be okay!”
He smashed into Fitz, hugging him and pounding him on the back.
Baldwin barely registered his knees buckling underneath him as he pitched headfirst into the linoleum floor.
Epilogue
Taylor and Baldwin were sharing a beer, holding hands, watching the sun set. The air was pink and chilly; the fire pit at their feet put out a steady heat.
After a time, the sky turned purple and the shadows around them disappeared. She finished off the beer and grinned at him.
“Want some dinner?” Her voice still sounded like sandpaper, and the scar that traversed her neck stood out, a stark red reminder of how close he’d actually come to losing her.
“Yeah, but I’ll cook. You just sit here.” He stood and bent to her, giving her a long kiss. When he went inside, whistling, Taylor felt the absence of his lips sharply, pulled her scarf closer around her throat.