#mcral

     POWERFUL  muscle. he    SWEEPS  in with his MEN like he OWNS the place--------THAAAT'S because he   DOES.....      but he COMES through with an inconspicuous gait, with only ONE target he beelines to.  CLAWED    hand     STICKS    to the BACK of gordon's head and the joker   SLAMS  his face down into the table. METALLIC TEETH lower. he   BREEEAAATHES   over his neck into the detective’s EAR---- 

love CABIN! its cuter because they can dink donk with a cozy fireplace???

'   look at me, jim. i have a job, and so do you. if you wanna leave? okay. but let's not rush into things you might regret some other day.   '

           As his arms wrapped tightly around her slender frame, Barbara buried her head against his chest. She wanted nothing more than to feel his loving embrace once again-- she had dreamed about the day she’d be back in his arms. But, she had not planned on it being this way… 

            Barbara Kean had crossed the wrong man this time; stupid, naive, Barbara. How could she let this happen. She had been so careless, and Tabitha had warned her not to venture into danger alone. But it was for Jim. She did it for Jim, and she’d do it again in a heartbeat.

           Tears began to fall from her eyes, gliding softly down her pale face. She was in pain; physically, and emotionally-- as mixed emotions flooded her brain; finally she had Jim right were she wanted him, but this time she was leaving and it wasn’t her choice.

she's seen a hundred lives go in her a&e shifts. not everyone who passed into her hands could be saved. the ones that didn't make it cascaded through her fingers amid medicinal air and pinging machines. she's never known who would live to see the next day and who wouldn't, only her job and her hands. her tools at the comfort of her side. her cool head and quick thinking.

the hands now shake, fumble in panic at someone that mattered, peeling aside his heavy coat to reveal bloodying clothes. nausea climbs from her stomach to her throat. '   jim----  '  emotion fledged in her voice, a choked plea for the odds to turn in her favour even if she's never relied on them before. hair falls past her ears. her head's shaking without her knowing.  '  i---... i can't do this without you.  '

i can't.... it can't be a numbers game.

his laboured breaths were too jolted. multiple contusions. abdominal trauma.  he can't breathe....he can't breathe.... blood's coming  from the mouth ---- his lung's collapsed. it wouldn't take long for him to die. something about fear grips her, makes her light touch leave his sternum to tussle a pen out of her purse. blood's flooding his lung and he'll drown in his own blood if she doesn't stop him. there's no medical equipment. lee scrambles to unscrew it and throws out the ink refill. just the basic tube toils in her fingers. eyes leap to him, with nearly a glistening layer of guilt before she lifts it high and drives it right into his chest. she knows exactly where the ribs are. there's no nicking of bone; only the sharp hiss of air as oxygen enters.

            doctors like tests. it's the unknown that scares them.

lee swallows. she's just caused him a lot of pain and she’s sorry for it. somehow the phone meets her ear, slipping from fingers to palm and her terror-struck voice breaches the cold.     '   there's been a hit-and-run, i need an ambulance. uh... corner of linden boulevard----  '