![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Link to [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]
Screeching. Choking dark. Heat. Roaring—
Cutter jerked awake, heart pounding. It took him a moment to recognize his surroundings as a hospital. He still wore the oxygen mask; turning his head, he saw McCoy dozing in a chair near the door.
Oh, my God. I wasn’t dreaming. He blinked a few times and set about consciously trying to unknot his muscles.
Jesus. My apartment. All my stuff … where am I going to stay? I could check into a hotel, I suppose, but all my clothes…. I wish Connie’s grandmother would hurry up and die, so—
He cut that thought off, feeling guilty. That was awful. I have better manners than that. But I do wish Connie was here, and not in Barcelona.
A slight stirring interrupted his thoughts, and he gratefully looked to McCoy again.
“Mike?” McCoy smiled. “Feeling better?”
Cutter smiled back as much as the oxygen mask would allow and nodded.
“Good.” McCoy hesitated. “The arson investigators need to ask you some questions, if you feel up to it.”
Cutter paused and considered before nodding slowly, reluctantly.
“I can put them off until morning, if you’d rather.”
Cutter shook his head and tried to move the mask—his right hand was swathed in bandages. He stared at in uncomprehendingly for a moment, then winced as he remembered. The doorknob.
“Mike?”
Resolutely, Cutter moved the mask—with his left hand. “Let’s get it over with.” He sounded both weak and hoarse, not at all like himself. McCoy smiled again, worry half-hidden behind the smile, and nodded.
Cutter jerked awake, heart pounding. It took him a moment to recognize his surroundings as a hospital. He still wore the oxygen mask; turning his head, he saw McCoy dozing in a chair near the door.
Oh, my God. I wasn’t dreaming. He blinked a few times and set about consciously trying to unknot his muscles.
Jesus. My apartment. All my stuff … where am I going to stay? I could check into a hotel, I suppose, but all my clothes…. I wish Connie’s grandmother would hurry up and die, so—
He cut that thought off, feeling guilty. That was awful. I have better manners than that. But I do wish Connie was here, and not in Barcelona.
A slight stirring interrupted his thoughts, and he gratefully looked to McCoy again.
“Mike?” McCoy smiled. “Feeling better?”
Cutter smiled back as much as the oxygen mask would allow and nodded.
“Good.” McCoy hesitated. “The arson investigators need to ask you some questions, if you feel up to it.”
Cutter paused and considered before nodding slowly, reluctantly.
“I can put them off until morning, if you’d rather.”
Cutter shook his head and tried to move the mask—his right hand was swathed in bandages. He stared at in uncomprehendingly for a moment, then winced as he remembered. The doorknob.
“Mike?”
Resolutely, Cutter moved the mask—with his left hand. “Let’s get it over with.” He sounded both weak and hoarse, not at all like himself. McCoy smiled again, worry half-hidden behind the smile, and nodded.
—————————————
Link to [Part 5]
