by elfin

"Where is he?"

Eyes widen at the sound of the inquiry.

"I said where is he?"

Tired, frightened heads lift at the anger behind the demand.

Harry stands slowly, glancing at Ruth sitting beside him.

"Tom.... What the hell are you doing here?" He can't even begin to understand the context of the question, can't honestly believe the man standing before him is really there.

"Adam. Where's Adam?"

"Theatre." Why lie? Why is he asking? Why is he here?

"How did you...?"

"Television." And suddenly, shockingly, the fight goes from him. "Tell me he'll make it. Because I saw blood, Harry. And I have to know."

"I don't know. They don't know." What did it matter why? "They're taking a bullet out of his lung." What are you doing here? "What do you care?"

"You took away one life, gave me another. You can't take that too. I won't let you."

It's Adam's to give; but he doesn't say that. He's distracted by the surgeon shouldering his way through the plastic double doors, blood on him. Adam's blood.

And the surgeon just looks at them, amassed, vulnerable now. Waiting.