Accidental discharge
Agnes had been in hospital for exactly twenty six hours.
This was twenty five hours longer than she had intended.
She had sent TJ home hours ago to get some sleep. He had been dead on his feet.
She was standing beside her hospital bed, one hand gripping the mattress for support and the other holding the back of her hospital gown firmly closed so her arse wasn’t hanging out for all the world to see.
The gown itself had clearly been designed by somebody who hated women.
The bullet wound in her hip hurt.
A lot.
Agnes had decided she was going home anyway.
The nurse standing at the end of the bed watched her with the particular expression normally reserved for unexploded devices.
“I’m leaving.”
The nurse didn’t look surprised.
“Of course you are.”
Agnes narrowed her eyes.
“That wasn’t permission.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you say it like that?”
The nurse looked down at her notes.
“The doctor needs to see you before we make any decisions.”
Agnes straightened a little.
“Fine, I’ll wait for five more minutes.”
Her hip immediately objected.
She tightened her grip on the bed.
The nurse looked up.
Agnes smiled.
The nurse didn’t.
“Excellent decision.”
“It wasn’t a decision. It was a tactical withdrawal.”
“Whatever helps you sleep.”
“I sleep perfectly well.”
The nurse looked pointedly towards the untouched hospital breakfast sitting on the table beside her.
Agnes followed her gaze.
“I don’t eat anything that looks like it’s been grown in a Petri dish.”
“They’re scrambled eggs.”
Agnes looked back at the tray.
“Allegedly.”
The nurse sighed.
Agnes noticed that had been happening a lot since her arrival.
The first sigh had occurred when Agnes had attempted to remove her IV.
The second had followed her request for her clothes.
The third had happened when she’d asked whether she could borrow a wheelchair so she could “just have a quick look around.”
The fourth had been considerably louder.
That one had happened when she’d been caught halfway down the corridor, dragging her IV stand behind her while wearing one sock and no shoes.
Agnes maintained that she’d been conducting reconnaissance.
The nursing staff maintained that she’d been trying to escape.
Both sides had agreed to disagree.
About thirty minutes later, the doctor arrived.
Agnes was still standing beside the bed, although by now her grip on the mattress had become considerably firmer.
The doctor looked at her.
Then at the nurse.
Then back at Agnes.
“I see you’re already up.”
“Obviously.”
The nurse made a small noise behind him.
The doctor ignored it.
“I’ve consulted with the nursing staff,” he said.
Agnes glanced towards the nurse.
The nurse suddenly found her clipboard fascinating.
“And after some consideration,” the doctor continued, “I’ve decided you’re fit to go home.”
Agnes smiled.
“Excellent.”
The nurse gave a quiet cough.
Agnes looked at her.
She had a feeling the nursing staff may have had the deciding vote.
“Most definitely,” the nurse muttered.
Agnes looked offended.
“I’m a ray of sunshine.”
The nurse snorted.
The doctor smiled.
“You’ll need to arrange for someone to take you home before I can discharge you.”
“I can drive.”
“You need someone with you. Should we call your husband?”
Agnes nearly choked.
“My what?”
“Your husband.”
“I’m not married.”
There was a brief silence.
From somewhere behind the doctor came a quiet mutter.
“There’s a shock.”
Agnes turned her head.
The nurse suddenly became very interested in the ceiling.
The doctor coughed to hide a smile.
“Fine. Your partner, then.”
Agnes folded her arms.
“Fine.”
The nurse snorted again.
Agnes glared at her.
The doctor looked down at his notes.
“The bullet missed the bone, which is very good news. There’s no permanent damage.”
Agnes’s expression softened slightly.
“It went straight through the flesh. You were lucky.”
“I’m aware.”
“You’ll need crutches for a while, and you have to keep the weight off it.”
Agnes looked down at her hip.
“How long is a while?”
“A few weeks.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“A few weeks?”
“Yes.”
Agnes stared at him.
The doctor stared back.
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“I gathered.”
“I’ve got a job.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“I can’t spend weeks sitting around.”
“You can, and you will.”
Agnes opened her mouth.
The nurse spoke first.
“Please do.”
Agnes looked at her.
The nurse smiled sweetly.
“Before you get yourself shot again.”
Agnes sighed.
“This is bullying.”
“No,” the nurse said. “This is discharge planning.”
Agnes looked towards the doctor.
“Can I at least get dressed?”
“That would be advisable.”
“Good.”
“And call whoever is taking you home.”
Agnes reached for her phone.
There was only one person she wanted to come and get her, and that was Troop.
She was going to have to explain to him that she was perfectly capable of looking after herself. Probably more than once.
She knew full well that, between TJ and Patty fussing over her, she was about to discover whether it was possible to die from excessive concern.
Before she could even find her phone, TJ appeared at the end of her bed with a bag in one hand and a smile on his face.
His huge arms swept her into a hug as he kissed the top of her head.
She would never admit it, but it was exactly what she needed.
TJ already knew that.
He knew her better than she knew herself.
Which was, at times, irritating to the point of distraction.
She sank into his chest and stayed there.
A feeling of warmth and safety enveloped her.
The events of the past few days had taken it’s toll on both of them.
“I brought you some clean clothes,” he said with a small chuckle. “Thought you might be fixing to escape about now.”
“I was ready hours ago, but the nurses were enjoying having me around so much they wouldn’t let me leave.”
Agnes rolled her eyes as she said it.
Agnes changed into the clean clothes that TJ had packed for her and binned the clothes she had been shot in.
She wasn’t sure if it was just her blood on them, or a mixture of hers and Byrd’s.
The image of Deputy Byrd lying on the ground at the impound yard flashed across her mind.
She shook it away.
TJ seemed to sense it and put an arm around her shoulders.
“Come on, Lid. Let’s go home.”
TJ went and retrieved a wheelchair from the hallway.
He wheeled it back in.
“Absolutely frigging not. I haven’t lost the use of my limbs.”
Agnes looked at him incredulously.
“In the wheelchair, or I’m throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you out.”
“No.”
“Agnes, the doctor told you to keep your weight off it.”
“The doctor also allowed them to serve me something that looked like it came from an experiment in biological warfare for breakfast. So, I’ll use the crutches, but you’re not wheeling me out of here. I still have two perfectly good legs. Well… one and a half at the moment.”
TJ had learned to pick his battles.
“Crutches it is.”
On the way out of the hospital, they passed the nurses’ station.
The nurse who had been looking after Agnes looked up from the desk.
She first eyed TJ.
She looked at him like he was the last pie in the bakery window and she was ravenous.
Agnes gave her a knowing smile.
“Later, Nurse Ratched,” Agnes said with a small wave.
The nurse shot daggers at her.
“Good luck,” she replied.
“Thanks, but I won’t need it.”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” the nurse sneered.
TJ laughed.
“I see you made some new friends. I’m impressed.”
“Shut it, Troop, and get me home. I need a decent brew.”
