Cassia's point of view:
Against every odd, all the horrid things that went on while I was underground, countless things that should've destroyed it, my hospital still stands as proud and pristine as it was before, looking a little out of place next to the broken buildings.
It beckons to me like home, my place of refuge that has been robbed from me in the past months. The sight of it brings joy to my soul, giving me newfound strength in my attempts to get everyone inside.
Susan, injured spine and all, assists in trying to carry a comatose Jacqueline, a feat she splits with Genevieve. Cade is a few paces behind me, Caleb slung precariously over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing. I've got Adam's arms around me as I help him trudge inside while he constantly grimaces at the pain in his stomach.
"We're here, don't worry," I whisper to him, throwing the doors open and letting the smell of sterile equipment welcome me back with open arms.
I look around for a moment, catching sight of the familiar front desk where people would check in, the endless sea of couches and plush chairs where people would wait, and finally the children's area, pieces of board games still strewn out as they were the last time I saw them, completely untouched.
"My sincerest apologies for interrupting your thoughts, dear, and I beg for your forgiveness if you think me to be rude, but there's a bullet in my stomach," Adam spits at me, letting one of his arms around my shoulders fall to clutch his abdomen.
"Oh God, okay, I'm sorry. Alright, I'm going to take you to the operating room and get you ready for surgery. I want the rest of you to take Caleb and Jacqueline to separate hospital rooms and lay them down. I'll deal with them next," I tell them, feeling extremely odd to be the only medical professional in the room, the sheer emptiness of this place now hitting me.
I yearn for Kyle, but I have to force myself to swallow the grief. I would mourn for him when the time is right.
They heed my orders, and Susan leads them to where the rooms would be, Cade sparing me a glance over his shoulder as he carries Caleb.
Adam nudges me in the shoulder to get moving, so I continue my carrying/dragging him to the operating room, past the waiting room and down an impossibly long hallway and through the double doors.
Then another long hallway.
Then another set of double doors.
And finally, the door to the operating room on the right.
"You know, they could've made the layout of this place less extensive when it was built," Adam grumbles as we enter.
"If I recall correctly, weren't you and one of your sisters architects for this place when it was built?" I bring up.
"Details," he grumbles, grabbing a clean hospital gown from one of the cabinets and sitting down. "You can, uh, give me a minute to change now."
"Nonsense, you'll hurt yourself. Besides, you can't wear a hospital gown during this thing; I've got to have access to your stomach. We've got some scissors laying around that we use all the time to cut people out of their clothes when they're incapacitated," I offer, turning around to go through some of the drawers and cabinets to find them.
"Um, that won't be necessary. I'm not incapacitated."
"Don't be weird, it'll take two seconds. Besides, you've got metal in your stomach; trying to change is just going to put you through more pain," I tell him.
"Cassia, thanks but no thanks. I can do this on my own."
"Found them!" I exclaim, taking the scissors out of the drawer they were in and turning back to Adam, almost wanting to laugh at the fear on his face.
"Get those wretched things away from me and begone," He tells me, his face turning red when I actually do begin to laugh. "Seriously, get out."
Knowing I'm not going to get him to change his mind, I do as he says, but not before I throw a little remark over my shoulder as I leave the room.
"It's only awkward if you want it to be awkward."
"CASSIA-"
"I'm leaving, calm down."
I shut the door and step into the hallway, smiling from trying to suppress even more laughter.
"What's gotcha smiling, Cass?" Cade asks as he saunters from down the hallway, looking pale in the fluorescent lights and his inky black hair having the slightest blue tint to it as a result.
"Adam's got an aversion to letting me do my job of cutting him out of his clothes," I say.
Cade almost laughs himself, his pale eyes twinkling. "You should tell him that he'll have to get a sponge-bath at some point."
"Funny, but no," I say, looking at him fondly. "He's the one that's about to have his stomach sliced open; whatever he wants, I'll respect it."
"Yes well, I'd still like to see the look on his face. But anyhow, we've got Caleb and Jacqueline in their hospital beds. What's next?" Cade asks.
I ponder for a minute before my eyes go downcast, the thought of burdening him and the others with this making me drown in my own guilt.
"Kyle...Victoria...and Evelyn," I whisper in a defeated voice, images of pulling Evelyn's body out of the rubble stinging almost as much as seeing Kyle. Cade found her, and when I couldn't save her either, I wanted to crawl into a little ball right there on all the rubble and never move again. I don't know what I'm going to tell Caleb and Jacqueline when they wake up, don't know how to comfort Genevieve who's been broken over even more than Susan.
"We can't just leave them there. I've got some gurneys in the back if you wanted to get Susan and Genevieve to go back and help you-"
"It's alright, I'll get them on my own. I don't want Susan or Genevieve around them anymore; it's killing them both every time they have to see their loved ones gone," Cade explains, and I feel almost like my heart could burst with gratitude for him.
"I'm so sorry, I wish I could go with you and help..." I trail off, wanting to somehow make this easier.
"No, you need to get Adam taken care of. This," he pauses for a moment to gesture to our surroundings "is where you belong."
To tell him 'thank you' would probably be the most inaccurate way to truly express my appreciation, but I do say it, hugging him in the process.
"Don't thank me; it's my fault you're all in this mess in the first place. I'm just doing what's right," he whispers, squeezing me tightly before letting go and heading back the way he came.
I stand there, puzzled as to what he could possibly mean about this being his fault, but then I remember Adam and make a mental note to ask Cade about it later.
I go back inside the waiting room where Adam lays on the operating table, a sheet thrown over his body.
"Try to give me a sponge-bath and I'll kill you," he spits at me venomously, probably meaning it.
"Cade was just joking," I respond, turning on the nearby heart monitor and hooking him up to it. And as soon as Adam's pulse is registered, it's going so fast that it takes even me by surprise.
"Nervous, are we?" I ask, moving away momentarily to put on a pair of plastic gloves.
"Don't mock me; I've never had surgery before. Even though I know you're very good at what you do, and the odds of something going wrong on your watch are impossibly small, there's always a slight probability that something could go wrong and..." He trails off, looking a little frantic.
I smile gently at him, choosing to approach the situation as I would a scared child who's getting shots for the first time.
"Don't worry, everything's going to be just fine. I'll tell you everything that's going on as it happens," I assure him, walking away from him to get a needle ready.
"Believe me, I know everything that's going to go on during this procedure, each cavity of my abdomen you'll be slicing into, but that doesn't mean I have to like it," he grumbles.
Once the needle is clean, I hook it up to the anesthesia and rub some alcohol on Adam's forearm to clean the area.
"Oh my, that's cold," he mentions, fidgeting.
"Well did you expect it to be warm?" I retort sarcastically.
"Don't be condescending, Cassia, it doesn't work for you," he huffs, rolling his eyes.
After he's still again, I pick up the needle that's attached to the anesthetic tube, it's uncanny sharp side glittering under the lights.
"This isn't going to hurt at all; you'll just feel a little pinch, and then it'll be over," I explain, even smiling a bit to sound more convincing, although I myself hate needles.
"Yeah yeah, just get it over with," Adam says ruefully, extending his forearm in my direction.
I ease the needle in the vein that runs the length of his forearm, finding it effortlessly. Adam grimaces slightly, but otherwise handles it fairly well.
"See, that wasn't so bad, now was it?" I ask as I place breathing tubes under his nose.
"No, but it will be bad if you keep talking to me like I'm a child. Need I remind you, I'm actually older than you," Adam mutters.
I roll my eyes and rise away from him, glad my years of dealing with far worse temperaments in the hospital have hardened me enough to brush this off.
"I'm going to go get my surgical attire; you should be asleep by the time I get back. Just close your eyes," I tell him, and he says nothing as I briefly leave the room and make a beeline for the one across the hall.
I quickly step inside and take off my rubber gloves, heading for the sink to vigorously wash all the grime from my hands and face after the previous day's events.
There's a mirror right above the sink, and I almost don't recognize my own reflection: blue eyes wild and having experienced too much too quickly, blonde hair sticking out in every direction with dirt staining it brown in some spots, and various bruises speckling my skin in some spots. I look like a creature of chaos, which, I suppose, is fitting.
I turn from the mirror and grab a nearby pair of blue scrubs, stripping off the clothes that Cade brought me from Julia's house forever ago. Sliding into the new clothes feels almost like having new skin, skin that you were comfortable in. And in this moment, I feel more myself than I have for several months.
I tie my hair up and stuff it under a surgical cap, then slowly slide a white mask over my mouth and nose. After that, I place a surgical gown over my scrubs, moving almost mechanically after having done this a countless amount of times.
Satisfied, I grab a new pair of gloves and head for the door, stopping for just a moment to look one last time at the mirror.
Not so wild now.
I walk back to the operating room, surprised to find Adam still awake, although it's easy to see that he's slipping.
"You look...all professional-ish," he says with a slight laugh.
"Thank you," I respond.
"Amp up the anesthetics; we glorious redheads are more resistant to the stuff," Adam tries to joke, but his speech is so slurred that I have to really concentrate to understand him.
"Redheads are no different than any other hair color when it comes to anesthesia, Adam," I correct him gently, making a mental note to use anything funny he says as blackmail later.
"You're just...jealous," He says, a sleepy smile on his face.
"Okay Adam," I concede, putting on my gloves and wheeling the cart of surgical equipment next to the table where he lies.
"That stuff looks sharp," he muses as I check to make sure everything I need is there.
"It is sharp," I agree.
"Are you going to slice me open with it?"
"Yes."
"Rude."
"You'll thank me later."
I watch as he slips further, barely able to hold his eyes open now. His body is beginning to go slack, the anesthesia probably just a few seconds away from pulling him under.
"Caaa....sssssiiiaaa," Adam tries to get out. "It'sssss...getting d-dark."
"It's because you're almost asleep," I explain, wondering if my words sound like garbled nothingness to him now.
"Cassiiaaa...I don't...I don't...liikke thisss," he attempts to say, his speech severely impaired now. I feel a little sorry for him, so I take his hand as he finally goes under.
"You're going to be just fine," I assure him, and Adam squeezes my hand ever so slightly before his eyes finally shut. I feel the comforting weight of friendship between us, and I smile slightly from behind my mask.
I place his hand gingerly back by his side and move to pull the sheet to his waist, his stomach now exposed. There's a fresh scar over the spot that I healed earlier today, but it's almost concealed by the heavy bruising that's come as a result of the bullet.
I gather my scalpel in my hand and carefully poise it over where I'll make the incision, wishing so badly that I had Kyle here to help me through this.
"Here we go," I say almost ruefully.
The surgery begins.