What Could've Been...

Chapter 7

Erin's POV

The soft beeping noise from all the machines was deafening in contrast to the eerie silence as I entered the threshold of Hank's room. He was hooked up to all these machines that were responsible for keeping him alive. He looked so... lifeless... Since the day I met Hank, I've never seen him so still. He has always been on the go, commanding every room he enters with authority.

"Hey Hank," I whispered, sitting on the edge of his bed, taking his hand in mine. "You need to keep fighting alright? Sophia needs you. I need you," my voice broke, trying my hardest to fight the tears that were threatening to flow.

Some time later, a soft knock echoed through the room as Dr. Sam Abrams walked in. "Detective Lindsay," he said nonchalantly, shaking my hand as I stood up.

"Dr. Abrams, and it's not Detective Lindsay anymore, it's Special Agent Lindsay. Just call me Erin," I corrected him. Upon his nod, I asked, "How is he?"

"Why don't we step outside?"

My heart dropped. Usually when doctors say something like that, it doesn't exactly scream good news. As my mind started drifting again, I aimlessly followed him into a conference room and sat down in one of the chairs across him.

"As you might have already heard, Hank got shot. The bullet entered just right under his heart. The good news is that though it was dangerously close, the bullet did miss his heart," he explained.

"That's good, right? So why is he unconscious now?" I inquired, a bit confused.

"When he came in, he was bleeding a lot. We quickly rushed him into surgery. The bullet ripped through his lung, diaphragm, stomach, spleen and pancreas. We were able to repair the damage and stop the bleeding. However, we weren't able to get the bullet out."

"Oh my gosh," I muttered softly, clearly in shock as I leaned back on the chair and covered my mouth with my hand, learning just how extensive his injuries were. "Is he going to be okay?" I managed to say as I met Dr. Abram's eyes.

"Well... Right now, the bullet is lodged in his spine," he turned his iPad around to show me the x-ray, pointing to where the bullet is.

"Can you get it out?" I questioned.

"When we operated on him earlier, we had to stop before we could attempt to get the bullet out as he kept crashing and his body could no longer handle a few more hours of surgery. So right now, we have placed him in a medically induced coma to allow his body to rest and heal. The next step is for you to decide whether you'd want us to take the bullet out or not."

"We have to get it out right? It's insane to keep the bullet inside him? Especially if it's in his back?" I looked at him.

"It's not that simple. If we leave the bullet in, the bullet might move and may cause further complications, and it may inflict pain in the long run. If we take the bullet out, since it's lodged somewhere deep in his spine, we can't guarantee that there won't be any neurological deficits, nor are we sure whether his body can sustain another surgery," Dr. Abrams discussed the options, along with its pros and cons.

"Neurological deficits? What kind? Like paralysis?" I said carefully, studying his body language and facial expressions.

"Yes. Paralysis, loss of speech, memory loss, and vision changes to name a few," he elaborated.

I took a deep breath, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information that he's telling me. "Is there any chance that he can return to full active duty?" I asked, knowing fully well just how important this job is to Hank.

"Is there a chance that he can? Yes. But are the chances high? Honestly, I don't think it is. At this point, considering he crashed a few times on the table, we are not sure what his neurological state is, and we won't know until he wakes up."

I ran my hands through my hair, closing my eyes to try to recenter myself and think rationally, which is proving to get exponentially more difficult as emotions begin to cloud my judgements.

"So it's either we leave the bullet in and hope that the bullet doesn't cause more damage or kill him, or we take the bullet out and potentially paralyze him or kill him. Basically both decisions might either end well or end with him dying," I muttered the last sentence to myself quietly.

"Pretty much," Dr. Abrams confirmed bluntly.

"What would you do?" I pondered, pretty much begging him to give me some sort of guidance to help me make the best decision given the circumstances.

"I can't help you make the decision Erin. As with any surgery, there may be complications or it may go smoothly," Dr. Abrams tried comforting me.

"When do I have to make a decision?"

"Well, it's almost 4am now. We're going to let his body rest first and if you do decide to go forward with the surgery, we will be scheduling it first thing tomorrow morning. So if you could tell us your decision by this afternoon, that would be great."

All I could do was nod and thank him. As his pager started ringing, he excused himself out of the room, leaving me alone in the conference room with my blaring thoughts and the weight of this decision on my shoulders. 

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Thank you for being so patient in waiting for me to update this fanfic. I know it's been a few months but I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

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