Title: 10 Summoners Tales: It's Probably Me

Author: xSaBx
Rating: PG-17. Angsty, and not a bit iffy in places

Summary: Season One, Episode 22. Work it out from there.

Spoilers: ITSOTG, early Season Two

Disclaimers: Those who aren't Mr Sorkin's or their own are mine.

Thanks: This one is mine...for a lot of reasons. Mostly... just because everything else starts here. "What Kind of Day..." was the episode that got me addicted: I suppose you might consider this the beginning of my version of therapy.

Category: New Characters/General

==

==

May 17^th, 2000

9.21pm

==

"Max?"

I wake with a start: Jesus, what time is it?

Mickey's standing in my doorway, all I can see is his silhouette against the light from the hallway. I was lying, looking at the ceiling, thinking about next week...work, the column, about taking some freelance stuff to make some money for a vacation...I must have fallen asleep. Is this what happens when you get old? This never used to happen to me in my twenties. As my eyes get used to the darkness in my room I can see Mickey's expression. He looks as if he's seen a ghost. No, this is worse than that...

Fuck. What's happened? I'm struggling to get up, to get my brain to work, I need to know what time it is...Jesus, it's ten o'clock, I used to be out at this time when...

"Someone's shot the President"

Please let nothing have happened to Evelyn.

It's the longest sentence I've heard him use for a week. I just go cold, completely and utterly and although my brain's still working my mouth fails to move. He already knows what I want to ask without the look that's quite obviously on my face right now...but he doesn't know. He won't know, they won't release the details...not until they've got a lid on it. They'll have closed the airports and the ports: how the fuck am I gonna get there? How the fuck am I gonna get there and see her? I have to go, and I have to go now.

"It's part of the job now...the guys that look after him and the rest of the staff are brilliant, Max...men who can run faster and shoot straighter than any lunatic who might throw himself at any of us. It's the unpredictable nature of life, you just don't know. All they can do is be as prepared as they can...and we all just do as we're told. That way, hopefully, no-one gets hurt..."

I'm a reporter, I have contacts. Time to actually use my brain for once in my life. I'm already up off the bed and in my closet packing before I realise Mickey's still standing there, looking at me. I turn and glance back at him and finally my mouth starts to work.

"You wanna come with me?"

==

where am i again?

==

I'm standing, talking to Gina, when I hear the alarm sound.

It takes me a moment to work out what the alarm actually signifies: all the other ER traffic's been diverted to Memorial, so if paramedics are here, that means there's casualties. How can that be...? Must be individuals in the crowd because our people are okay. I saw CJ and she'd struck her head as she hit the ground. Toby and Sam were fine, but...Jesus and Mary, please no....

The doors fly open behind me, and two gurneys appear, pushed by men and women obviously focussed. It takes me a moment to realise that it really is Josh on the first; he has an oxygen mask on and is clearly unconscious. Not much blood, and from what I've just heard from one of the paramedics he's got a collapsed lung. Evelyn is behind him and...CJ's there, holding her hand. Sam and Toby are behind the gurneys, both ghost white. Evie's awake, at least...but there's a lot of blood, a gut-wrenchingly large amount of blood. Her leg is already strapped... I desperately need to know what's going on, but they can't tell me, they don't have the time. They're too busy trying to get my Staff to where people can help them.

As I follow the pair into the ER I see my friend, now prepped and ready for surgery. He looks up and our eyes meet, and not even thirty years of camaraderie can stop us both from hiding from each other the looks of abject terror. I shake my head at him; I don't know what's happening. For just over a year I've had a lid on things worse than this, I dealt with other people's lives...I even sent some people to their deaths. When I wasn't on top of the game Josh stood by me and supported. The day that I announced my drug and drink habit to the world it was Evie that coached me through it. Now both the President and I are helpless, we're in other people's hands, and it's the worst feeling in the entire World. My best friend has a hole in his belly and two of my best Staffers and associates are in various states of mortal danger.

They want us all out of here, but CJ refuses to let go of Evelyn's hand. She stands immovable and I can see from here that she's shaking. One of the nurses is trying to extricate her.

"Ma'am, we really need you to leave, we have to try and stop this bleeding..."

I walk over and can finally do something, I help in the only way I can. I take CJ's other hand and squeeze it, and she finally looks up.

"Leo, I can't-"

"Claudia, it's time to go"

She's covered in blood herself, Evie's blood, and she's crying. I put my arm around her and lead her away.

don't want to die now

==

I recognise the number and answer the cell.

"Morag?"

He sounds awful.

"Max, she's...she's been shot"

"Fuck."

I can hear him breathing for a few moments on the end of the 'phone, trying to cope with it. Somehow I'd expected him to know, but as the rest of the World doesn't...CJ's telling them now, in a blouse of Evie's that was until five minutes ago hanging on the back of her door. There's a coffee stain on the front, but CJ's covered it with her jacket. I think it's the only item of her clothing that's not got Evie's blood on it: she told me that Charlie Young held it for her as she sat on the ground and watched, as the paramedics fought to stop the bleeding.

I'm in the bairn's office, waiting for Leo to finish in the Situation Room. Donna sits next to me, without make up and in an understandable state of shock. She 'phoned me when she heard, not sure whether she should go to the Hospital or come here. I told her to get here first and wait; there'll be enough chaos around GW without us adding to it. We're both needed at our posts, to make sure things are covered whist our respective bosses are unable to fulfil their duties. When we're done I'll get my Charlie to drive us both to George Washington together.

I'm aware that Donna is looking at me, and I try not to appear too alarmed. It's difficult: it's the first time I've said those words to anyone since it happened. When I saw the report on the TV my Charlie and I just sat there with our mouths open. We didnae say a word to each other until we got here. My Charlie is sitting in Mrs Landingham's office with Charlie Young. I wish his first trip to the White House could have been under better circumstances.

Donna extends her hand and I take it: we sit together on the bairn's couch as I talk. She's a fine wee girl; Josh is right to be proud of her.

"How bad...how bad is it?"

Max is trying to hold it together, but I've known him long enough to know that the crack in his voice is him failing. Please God let her be all right.

"Two bullets, one badly fractured her femur and one is lodged in her leg just above her right knee. They're operating now to reconstruct her leg and to remove the bullet. She's lost an awful lot of blood, Max. CJ came back from the hospital, she was covered in it..."

"CJ's okay?"

"Aye, she's fine, but a bit messed up. We managed to find her an okay set of clothes to brief in: Leo didn't want out front unless she looked presentable"

I know Max wants to ask me what they think will happen but I'm betting he can't think of a way to...

"Morag?"

"We just don't know Max... we have to wait. As soon as I hear I'll call you."

"Okay. What's the news on the President?"

"He's gonna be fine. One bullet to the stomach but there was a clear entry and exit wound. He's should be out of surgery by now"

It suddenly occurs to me that maybe I shouldn't be telling him all this, that maybe I should just give him superficial details. CJ would probably be mad at me: Evie would tell him everything, and therefore so will I.

"Anyone else?"

"You've not seen a TV report?"

"I'm standing outside a hanger at La Guardia waiting for Peter Dennison to get permission to fly me and Mickey to DC. I haven't seen a TV since it happened"

"Peter Dennison? The actor Peter Dennison?"

"Don't sound so surprised. I know famous people, Morag. I've just decided it was time I called in a big favour. What I need is to speak to someone who can work their booty at your end...?"

"I'll see what I can do but it's hardly gonna be a high priority..."

"If this doesn't work I'll drive if I have to, I'll walk if it comes to it..."

"I'll talk to someone for you, don't panic"

"Can't you get the Deputy Chief to get himself together and-"

"Josh has been hit too"

Donna flinches at sound of his name, but doesn't make a noise. I squeeze her hand and she reciprocates.

"Oh God...is it serious?"

"It could have been, the bullet missed his pulmonary artery by a whisker. He's got a collapsed lung but apart from that he's doing pretty well"

Margaret appears at the other side of the Bullpen and catches my eye. It's time. Leo wants to talk to us both, to organise what happens now. Once we're done we can go to the Hospital...we can see them both.

"Max... I have to go, duty calls. As soon as I'm done I'll go talk to Toby: if anyone can pull strings, it'll be him."

"Thanks. I'll see you at the hospital"

He sounds terrible, and I know exactly how he feels.

==

It's obvious by Evie's expression that she's anything but sure. The smile is part fear, and part anticipation, but it is mostly the smile of a woman who's enjoying the moment.

She has an amazing smile...one I sincerely hope I'll get to see again.

Toby and I rode with Josh, CJ went with her. It was bizarre in the ambulance: Toby and I said nothing but held each other's hands the whole way, and I in turn held Josh's and hoped that he might at some point show at least some signs of life. The paramedics seemed largely unconcerned at his lack of consciousness, and more preoccupied at keeping his heart beating and his blood pressure steady. I suppose I could have asked them why they were undaunted, but I just didn't know how to. I write speeches for a living, but I had no words, they had all been taken from me in that moment of terror when the bullets flew and we were all forced to the ground... I was incapable of anything except numb disbelief, and only now am I beginning to wake up from this nightmare to discover that being awake is actually no better than being asleep.

I'm going back with CJ as soon as she's done, Toby is staying here. He's doing a favour for Max and then he's going to meet them at the airport: Toby said something about a small private plane and a flight plan...I wasn't listening, I was thinking about how peaceful she looked as they tried to stop the bleeding. I'm thinking about how peaceful he looked in the ambulance.

I'm constantly praying that this is not the last time I'll have seen them both alive.

==

I've no idea how my wife managed to fall asleep on these damn hospital couches: I certainly don't wanna wake her, not yet. She's been up nearly the whole night, and now it won't hurt her to not hear the news for a while. The coffee from these machines is awful, but it's done its job in keeping me awake and getting me through this part of the ordeal...Jeez, it's morning now...of course. That's one thing I have to say for the White House...they serve a terrific cup of java. The next time I visit my wife's place of work I do it in daylight and when everyone is fit and well.

I suppose I didn't need to be here, but by doing so I think I finally understand what it is about this job that the woman who my wife calls the "wee bairn" loves so much. In the midst of all this chaos these people have found time for each other and still dedicated themselves to their jobs and their country. Tragedy really is good at binding people together. The pretty blonde thing for instance...she's called Donna, I think, and is a lovely girl. I spent an hour talking to her about her family. She started working for Josh Lyman during the Campaign, apparently... she's loyal, and smart, and it's utterly unfair that she has to be a victim here. I shudder to think how many other people will have suffered tonight as the result of the invention of the gun.

I'm starving; I could murder some scrambled eggs right about now. Somebody whose name I really should know is coming towards me with something in his hand. I fumble for my glasses...yes, of course...it's the guy who worked with Richard.

"Good Morning, Mr Stuart"

"It's a very good morning, Sam. I assume you've heard the news?"

Sam grins like a loon. I think I can guess what he's about to tell me.

"They've just finished with Josh...Evie will be a little longer but she's okay too. They're both gonna be fine... You're right, it's a damn good morning"

He hands me a sandwich.

"I know it's not a full breakfast but it's a start. Thought you and Morag might need something"

"Scrambled eggs would be nice" My wife is now awake, and sitting up. Considering the night we've both had she still looks wonderful. I should go and find Donna.

"I'm afraid it's only smoked ham on rye" Sam looks at me "Does she know?"

"Be my guest"

Morag's puffy eyes begin to fill with tears again, but I know these aren't of fear. "She's okay?"

"The first bullet really made a mess of the bone, and it took them a while to reconstruct the area. The second one proved a little difficult to extract, but it's out and she's fine. You'll be able to see her in an hour or so"

I go and hug my wife, and we both start to cry.

It's gonna be okay.

==

Without a doubt, that is the worst plane ride I've ever taken.

Mickey and I look at each other and I know he's as relieved as I am to not be in the air any more. You forget in the luxury of large planes with shapely stewardesses and complimentary peanuts just how terrifying flight can be. It's a wonder the Wright Brothers ever got off the ground, but they did...and I think it was in a plane about this size. They didn't even have a cockpit so we should, I suppose, be thankful for small mercies. The sunrise, however, was a sight to behold...Max, who is never one to be eloquent at the best of times remarked as the sun came up over the Eastern Seaboard that it was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen...

Peter does this three times a week and looks at me with a laugh.

"You're a wuss, Max. You and your friend are both big wusses."

"That's the last time I pay to see you on Broadway"

I can't think of anything funnier, I'm just too busy being thankful I'm on the ground. At least I had something to take my mind off Evie.

I check my watch: 6.50. It took an age to get the clearances, but the moment we did Peter was ready and we were in the air. We're taxiing down to a hanger, which is already brightly illuminated by the early-morning sun. It's almost June, almost the summer. Please God let me have her here to see another summer, please don't take her until I at least get a chance to see her, please...

"It would appear that your friends are here"

Peter points to a black sedan parked at the far side of the hanger, flanked by two police motorbikes. I can see Toby standing outside the car, a coffee in his hand. On any other day I might ask him to justify the waste of public money by having us get to the hospital with a police escort...but not today. We have a deal, the deal that got us the permission to fly in the first place. No reporting without the express permission of the Communications Director. I can't even make a cell call without his approval.

Peter is leaving here once he's refuelled, so he stops the plane and cuts the engines outside the hangar. Mickey and I pile out and I say a grateful farewell: Peter wanders off to find the breakfast he's arranged to be waiting for his arrival. I haven't eaten since lunchtime yesterday...I could kill a hamburger...

As we approach, Toby puts the coffee on the top of the car and extends his hand.

"Good flight?"

"Good is not a word I would even have considered"

Mickey looks at Toby and I realise they haven't been introduced. I also realise that, with the exception of Mickey's baseball cap, that these two were quite clearly separated at birth.

"Mickey Cannel, this is Toby Zeigler"

Mickey smiles at Toby and I know what he's about to do. Whenever Mickey is grateful he hugs people. Toby, to his credit takes, it in good grace.

"Thank you for taking us to see Evie"

Toby looks at me and I'm sure that I'm in more trouble than I will ever be able to repay. However, today is no ordinary day.

"She came out of surgery at 6.38. She's gonna be fine"

This time I hug him, and he hugs me back.

==

[*]

==

I sit here in post-operative incapability and watch as the crash team attempts to restart her heart: the feeling of total helplessness is unbelievable. There is nothing either my wife or I can do except be here and pray, so we do. Abbey grasps my hand and we both close our eyes and I'm certain pray in unison for our God to not take her away, not after everything else that has happened.

"Her blood pressure suddenly dropped, she's gone into shock"

My eyes are still shut, I can't bring myself to watch...but I know Abby is. I know she's willing the crash team on with every professional fibre of her being.

"Can they...?"

"Of course they can, and they will"

It seems like an eternity before I can look again. I can hear the heart monitor, a rhythm. The whole room seems to breathe a collective sigh of relief and then she's taken away. That's it. No drama, no emotion, just these amazing people doing their job. Three of us were bought here, and three of us still remain as survivors. When I look at my wife there are tears running down her face, so I take both her hands and smile at her. It's okay. We still haven't lost anyone.

"You know she's in good hands. Now let's go talk to Josh"

==

Toby takes us both to the back of the Press Room. Mickey has removed his baseball cap and holds onto his visitors pass as if his life depended on it: he's nervous and not a little in awe. I think he's grown up a bit today...hell, I know I have. I've seen CJ only to make eye contact, and under the circumstances she looks like she's holding herself together. Toby said we'd all travel to GW collectively: Sam's gone from the hospital to do the morning shows and I'll get a chance to see him on his return. I'll try and take a moment to talk to CJ on the way.

She's the consummate professional now, and as she enters the Briefing Room the whole place quietens: they're ready to hang on her every word as she walks to the podium.

"Okay...just to keep you updated on the situation at GW: The President is now officially due back at the White House at 10.30 tomorrow. Josh Lyman came out of surgery at 5.25. Doctors expect him to make a full recovery. Evelyn Parker was out of surgery at 6.38 and she too is expected to make a full recovery. I'll have the leaders of the two teams here at twelve o'clock to answer questions-"

I see Carol on CJ's right: she has a piece of paper in her hand, which she passes to her boss... even from here I can see that Carol's hand is shaking. As she reads in silence, the whole mood of the room changes. Taking their cues from the Press Secretary everyone simultaneously realises something is not right. Mickey looks at me and I smile hopefully.

CJ looks up and ahead, as I hear her say the words I know she's somewhere else. She's where I want to be right now.

"Evelyn has now been taken into GW's ICU after her heart stopped briefly in the Recovery Room. The doctors have done this as a precaution, and say there is no immediate danger and her condition remains stable. I'll have more details at the next briefing"

Then she's gone, and the place is stunned.

I realise I'm clenching my fists and that my nails are digging into my palms. Mickey looks at me grimly. This ain't over yet...

==

The first face I saw was the President's. Mrs Bartlet and Leo were there too, plus the doctor who I now know operated on me... I was surprised how good I felt, considering that about eight hours previously I was lying in Virginia with a hole in my chest. Of course I'm still pretty drugged but my mind's working well. All I have to do now is understand how I get my body to work at the same speed as my brain...and then I have to find out where Evie is.

Everyone else had been in now, except her. I know she should be here...she was there at the door when she realised she'd left her jacket in the Press Area. Of course I waited for her, because I hadn't asked her, and I was still waiting for precisely the right moment to do so. When she came back, as I watched her walk towards me in that fantastic green dress, it was precisely the right moment.

"So, would you like dinner?"

She should be sitting in the place where CJ is now, next to the bed. She wouldn't be up the end of the bed with Toby or Sam; she'd be here, next to me. She'd be holding my hand.

I need to know what her response was.

I need to know she's alive...I turn and look at CJ.

I mouth her name.

CJ looks at me.

"She's...she's in... they took her to the ICU..."

I've never seen CJ cry like this before. Toby and Sam come towards me. Toby comforts her and Sam is just there, powerless. We are all in our own ways incapable of anything.

I still need to know what the answer was.

I have to see her.

==

"Mr Ellersley? You and Mr Cannel can come in now"

I've never been in an Intensive Care Unit before: when Dad lost his life he was in a normal room and it all happened so quickly...there was never any need to keep him alive in the end. He wanted to die, and my mom wanted him to be out of pain. I thought I'd be prepared for this, I thought I'd be ready. I really don't care now who sees me cry and how stupid I must look. This is my friend.

The place is full of machines and I can hardly see her, so covered is she with equipment. The nursing staff won't let us near her yet; they're still checking readings and observing her. Her blood pressure has dropped and she's breathing with a ventilator as a precaution: her body's gone into post-operative shock. These people will do their best to help her recover, I know they will. I have nothing but admiration for the individuals who do this often-thankless task. I feel just so totally helpless myself...so totally and utterly incapable.

A doctor comes towards me with a smile.

"Mr Ellersley, Mr Cannel... I'm Dr Stephen Liebermann, I performed the surgery on Evelyn..."

"Her friends call her Evie" Mickey smiles at me: I think that when she does wake up this guy will be considered as at least a recipient of a Christmas card. When she wakes up this guy's on my Christmas card list... He smiles at us both again and continues.

"I'd like to spend a little time explaining to you what we did in surgery and why Evie's currently here in the ICU..."

==

Don't ask me now how long it's been: I really don't know.

Everyone has taken turns to sit and talk to her. I'm here now, and CJ has just arrived from the White House with fresh flowers. The place is permanently filled with gifts, balloons and cards. They moved her here from the ICU the day before yesterday. Don't ask me what day it is either, because I couldn't tell you. Somewhere in the building Sam and Toby are helping Josh into a wheelchair to bring him up here from his room. The Deputy Chief made the point early on that as many familiar voices in the room as possible would be the best way to bring her round, and I'm with him. She needs to know she's amongst people who care.

CJ bends over her and kisses her lightly on the forehead.

"Hi kiddo, you're in exactly the right place at the moment. It's National Lunacy Week in the White House. Hey Max, how are you doing?"

"Not bad....not bad at all" I fish in my pocket and bring out a small bag of Goldfish crackers "Bet you haven't eaten again today"

"I managed to grab a sandwich at lunchtime, but thanks anyway"

"No problems"

She sits down next to me. The arrangement is simple: for as many hours of the day as are possible, someone is here next to the bed, holding her hand and talking to her. Josh tried and failed to get his bed moved up here, the doctors insisting he needs to concentrate on his recovery first. So, we have a system. Morag will be here with Charlie shortly, and they spend the night together, taking turns to sleep next to the bed. Sam comes here with Toby first thing and they spend an hour with her before going to work.

I collect Josh when I arrive with Mickey mid-morning from the hotel and we all spend a couple of hours with her together. I'm still impressed Josh and I can do this without coming to blows. Leo has made a couple of trips here but somebody has to run the shop over there...he's the most experienced of them all, after all. CJ's always here after the last briefing of the day, and Sam and Toby have joined her too, so its gonna be snug in here pretty soon.

I can here voices behind the door. Toby is doing doors, Sam is pushing. Josh is complaining. Nothing changes.

Mickey gets up from his permanent position in the chair next to the door and lends a hand as the three of them try and get their collective act together. Once they're all inside Josh takes his place next to the bed, I move out of the way and go and sit by the window. I've had plenty of time with her already; Josh missed his lunchtime talk as he was seeing the consultant. I hear from CJ they'll be sending him home in a couple of days if he continues to improve. You'd be hard-pressed to work out he'd been shot at all.

We actually talked about it yesterday, the first time I've heard him willing to divulge details. He has a vague memory of lying on the ground and Evie holding his hand, telling him it was gonna be okay. According to Leo, who was there with the President, she was conscious when they bought her into the ER, it was Josh who was out of it completely. Of the pair she is the fitter, her injuries should have been the less life-threatening but it was her heart that briefly decided it had done enough. She was dead for almost a minute. I still feel sick thinking about it.

Sam and Toby come and say their hi's, and Sam hands me a copy of my paper. The article I wrote and my interview with Sam, done with Toby's permission, are printed on page four. The picture of Evie and Richard that's been printed is the last one that they ever had taken together, seven days before he died. I got Morag to pick up from Evie's new apartment. My editor said it's one of the best things he thinks I've ever written...

I still haven't seen her new place. Must remedy that. I'll get her to show me when she wakes up.

"The President's coming tomorrow with the First Lady" Sam informs me as I check the article "He wants to see you. I think he was pretty impressed with what you wrote."

"Bartlet read this?"

"CJ made sure he got a copy"

That settles it, when this is all over I'm asking her out for dinner.

==

I wonder if they'll hold the reservation?

==

I've got the Discman on, listening to Crowded House whilst CJ and Josh discuss the early plans for the Midterms. I can't lip-read so their strategies are completely safe. Morag is taking notes. Mickey is asleep on the camp bed on the other side of the room. The clock says a little before one. I think it's the weekend, but I can't be sure. It's all just melted into one long day now. I watch the three of them talking, their lips moving but no words, just the music. It pretty much sums up my life here and now. Stuff is happening around me, and a lot of it just doesn't make any sense. I'm living my life with the volume down.

A year ago, if she had asked me I'd have married Evie without a second thought. Now, even after all of this, I'm not sure. I've changed, she's changed...the world changed somewhere along the line, perhaps more than I realised. Hey, maybe this is what happens when you get older. Evie's more like a sister now, someone I always want to be there for me but I don't need to possess. There's been a sea-change: I can see many ways ahead again, where before I could see only one. There are possibilities... CJ, for instance, is a possibility. We've spent a lot of time talking over the last however many days it is, she seems to really like me. I thought she liked Danny, but...hey, you never can tell.

Josh however is undoubtedly hooked. Richard had a name for it. The "Evelyn Allure" has undoubtedly captured my once forthright and politically astute friend there... I wonder if he even realises.

If he doesn't act quickly he'll forget how to think straight and when that happens...

"Max!"

Someone's gently shaking me, where am I? I'm awake now; stop shaking...fell asleep... sun is streaming through the window. Clock says 3.12. Concentrate Max...

CJ. Is looking at me with tears in her eyes.

"She just squeezed Josh's hand"

==

==

I nearly fall over in my haste to get up. Mickey just stands by the bed in stunned amazement, a huge grin on his face...no wonder. It's crowded around the bed: Morag, CJ, Josh in his wheelchair but even from here I can still clearly see her moving. These aren't sporadic actions like before; her whole body is beginning to stir, her fingers gripping and ungripping Josh's hand. There isn't a dry eye in the place, mine included. It then occurs to me we could do with some medical assistance, so I lean across and press the buzzer. Lucy, our Day nurse, knows as she enters what's happened before I even open my mouth.

"Well, good afternoon Evelyn, how are you doing? Can we have a bit of space around her please, poor girl's gonna suffocate"

CJ and Morag pull back and hug each other in relief. Josh still has her hand and is gently stroking it's back with a circular motion. I come to stand opposite him on the other side of the bed, behind Lucy.

Ev's eyes open slowly, and she squints at the nurse. She tries to speak but the tube in her mouth isn't helping.

"Let's take that out, shall we?"

She's trying to speak, trying to move her free hand up to her mouth. Lucy gently removes the tube.

"Evie" she says in a hoarse whisper, "Friends call me Evie"

Josh and I look at each other and we both lose it. As I stand there shaking with tears streaming down my face I realise that it's been ten days since she was shot. Ten whole days.

She's finally awake.