I'm running, the luminous white lights of the hospital blurring past. Zia's tiny hand is gripped tightly in mine and she's struggling to keep up. I reach down and scoop her into my arms, holding her little body firmly against mine I race to the front desk, "Malik Haider." I tell the nurse.
She looks up at me with shrewd brown eyes. "Are you family?" No lady, I'm this frantic because I don't know him at all. I just like racing into hospitals with little kids and making a spectacle of myself for funsies.
"I'm his son," I rush out. I'm breathless. My breath coming in short, sharp bursts. My chest is heaving with the effort of forcing air into my lungs. What was he thinking, going out and confronting a criminal without backup or even a goddamn bulletproof vest. He's such an idiot. If I wasn't so worried I'd be angry.
"He's in surgery." She tells me, "You can have a seat in the waiting room and the Doctor will be out when they're done to update you." She motions to a sitting area off to the side, I nod my thanks but that's done nothing to ease my anxiety. I walk over to the waiting area and spot Emma perched on one of the plastic chairs.
"Hey, what are you doing here?" I ask her, plopping down in the nearest seat and adjusting Zia in my lap. She immediately starts to play with the doll she'd brought with her. Emma looks tense, worried. That can't be about my dad, sure they're close, but not nearly close enough to get this kind of reaction out of her.
"I'm waiting for Kiera," she says tightly, well that makes sense. Of course Kiera is here, she and my dad are basically attached at the hip.
"Where is she?" I ask confused, if dad's in surgery she can't be with him, so where'd she go. Emma gives me a considering look, as if she's weighing how much to share right now. There's a moment where there's a spark of something in her eyes, but it's gone before I can fully identify what it is.
"The doctors are just finishing up with her," my ears perk up. What does she mean? What happened to Kiera? Why does she need a doctor? I don't have to voice any of those questions. Emma seems to read them in my expression, "She was there too, your dad went out there to make sure she was okay." There's fear for Kiera for a split second but it's gone almost immediately. This is her fault.
"Where is she?" I ask again. This time even I hear the coldness in my voice. I try to tamp it down for Zia's sake. The last thing she needs is to see me upset, that's only going to make this worse for her.
"Dastan-" Emma starts but I don't let her finish.
"Watch Zia." Is all I say before I walk off down the hall looking into the little windows in the door trying to find Kiera. It's takes a few minutes but I see her in a room almost at the end of the hall, she's alone and pulling on a shirt. I open the door, unconcerned with her half-clothed state. She yanks her shirt down quickly over her head, it's definitely new because there's no blood on it despite the blood I see smeared on her face. Evidently, the hasty clean up job they did wasn't enough.
"What did you do?" I demand, not caring if anyone hears me. The door swings shut behind me a second later, but I'm already moving further into the room.
"What? Nothing?" Her voice sounds as confused as she looks, her brows are pinched together and she's got a little frown pulling at the edges of her pouting lips. For some reason that innocent expression of confusion only angers me more.
"Nothing?" I ask coldly, and watch her eyes shoot up to my face, they dart back and forth for a moment cataloging whatever emotions are swirling in my expression. I can't bring myself to bother about hiding those from her now. "Then why is my dad having surgery to remove a bullet he wouldn't have taken if you weren't involved?"
Her mouth forms a little 'o' as if she's finally understood what this whole conversation is about. "Look, I get that you're upset but don't you think that's a little unfair?" she says it like she's speaking to a little child. Upset? She thinks I'm upset? No, upset is what happens when a girl you've been in love with for most of your life tells you that all you were was a bit of fun and now she's bored. No, I'm not upset; I'm bloody furious.
"No I don't, because it's true." I answer in that same cold tone, I feel my shoulder tense up as I get steadily more enraged. "God, you really can't help it, can you?" I ask exasperated.
"Help what?" her voice is strained, that note of confusion turning suspicious. Her cheeks pinking with some emotion I can't read on her face.
"Destroying everything you touch." It comes out so flat and monotone that from my voice alone you'd think I was commenting on the weather trends in the city. "It's like a disease with you. Nothing survives you. You won't be satisfied until you've gotten him killed, will you?" my voice is getting louder, I know we're in public and anyone could overhear this but I'm too far gone to care. I can't believe he was dumb enough to charge into a building without backup or even checking to make sure there weren't any immediate threats to his life. The fact that he could be so selfish, knowing he's got a five-year-old at home who's barely had a chance to have him in her life and he'd so willingly risk leaving her fatherless. All for Kiera, choosing her over his own family… again.
"Dastan, stop-"
"Stop. You want me to stop?" I ask, taking a step forward. Belatedly, I realize the action might read as more than a little threatening. Given what she's seen of me these last few weeks, this might frighten her but I don't care. "Why? Does the truth hurt a little too much, Kiera?"
"You're clearly distressed so I'm going to do you a favor and pretend this conversation didn't happen." Her patronizing tone sticks under my skin like microscopic needles. The sting has my hackles rising.
"No," I hiss, herding her back toward the wall. She goes easily, she's being intentionally docile so as not to aggravate me more. Getting in her face, my voice low and threatening, I say; "Do me a favor and get the hell out of all of our lives. I'm so done being sucked into your never-ending stream of tragedies. God, can't you see that you ruin everything! Just leave my family alone before they become casualties of hurricane Kiera."
"Screw you," She hisses right back, her spine stiffens. So, there is fight in this one. She tilts her chin up to look me in the eye, her turquoise eyes blaze defiantly. "You wanna blame me, fine. Go ahead. But let's not pretend that we both don't know that the real reason everything in your miserable life goes to shit is because you're just a coward. A pathetic, scared little boy who blames everyone else for his problems."
"And you're a vindictive, duplicitous snake whose convinced everyone around you that you're an innocent victim." I retort, not missing a beat. Lowering my head so we're almost nose-to-nose. My hands coming up to rest on the wall next to her head, I've effectively boxed her in.
Anyone else would be quaking in their boots right now, she just levels me with her coldest look. "Well, then I guess we're quite the pair." She smirks up into my face, "Move, Dastan."
I watch her for a moment, see the determined set of her jaw, the resistance in her eyes. Even when I hate her, she's beautiful. I clench my jaw hard against that thought. "Get out of my sight before I really do something I'll regret." I grunt stepping out of her way and running shaking hands through my hair.
It takes hours before there's any news, eventually I have Emma come back to the hospital to collect Zia so she can get her something to eat and put her to bed. I've been siting in this horrid green, plastic chair for so long my neck and shoulders are stiff and sore and my back is aching. I'm contemplating just leaving and having the hospital call me if there's any news when the doctor walks out. She wearing blue scrubs and she looks exhausted, but happy. I guess that's a good sign, she informs me that he's out of surgery and stable. He'll be awake for a few moments before the sedatives kick in so if I want to talk to him I should do it now.
When I walk into his room, he's lying on the bed. My first thought is that he looks so old. I never really think about dad's age; as a consequence of his job he's usually so healthy and vibrant but now he looks frail. There are wires and tubes poking out of his body at odd angles, monitors and machines all beeping loudly. He lies in the center of the discord, his face drawn, skin pale and the grey in his hair stands out more starkly than ever.
"How are you feeling?" I ask, my voice is tight, I hear the anger in it but he seems beyond noticing anything right now.
"Like I just took a bullet to the gut," he jokes in a raspy voice. He sounds like he's been screaming for hours, his voice is brittle, small. He gives a self-deprecating smile that I don't return. "Where's Zia?" his eyes search the small space as if only just realizing she isn't with me. So, now he cares about Zia.
"She with Emma, I had to send her home. She was about to fall over from exhaustion." I tell him tensely. My anger from earlier returning with a vengeance. He's so careless with his own life as if he doesn't have a young, impressionable kid depending on him. How does mom put up with this, with him always putting his family last. Always choosing the job and Kiera over us. None of it seems fair.
"Good," he nods sagely. He can barely move but I get the impression he's making an attempt at being his usual condescending self. "She doesn't need to see me like this." And it's okay for me to see you like this, I almost ask but bite down on my tongue at the last moment. It's futile to start an argument right now, as drugged as he is he won't even remember it.
"The doctor said you'll be in here for a week," I change the topic. "Should I call mom and help her book a ticket back?" he's already dozing off by this point but that gets his attention. I watch him fight the effects of multiple pain killers and sedatives.
"No, let your mother enjoy her time with her family. She barely gets to go back to Turkey anymore. This isn't anything serious, I don't need her back and she doesn't need to stress about it." He says, his words are dragging and slurring together. I just manage to make out individual syllables.
"What about Zia, someone needs to help me take care of her, there are things I can't do for her." I say thinking of how bath time is always so uncomfortable. He smiles lazily.
"Ask Emma or Kiera," he manages to get out and then his eyes are drooping shut again. This time he doesn't fight it, within seconds he's gone under. His breathing is deep, and I watch his chest rise and fall for a moment. Just staring at the proof he wasn't killed today. He's okay, alive. That stone at the back of my throat loosens some, for right now he's breathing and that's all I can ask for.