Sophie awoke in a bleary state and had to blink multiple times before she could adjust to her surroundings. The walls around her were white, almost too white and the bright lights above her only reflected upon them, causing her an immediate headache. Unfortunately, that wasn't Sophie's only pain. Her entire body was achy as if she hadn't moved in days, not to mention the back of her head was throbbing fiercely and it wasn't from a headache. She tried to reach up to hold her head only to find that her arm had some sort of tube attached to it.

Then it all clicked.

She was in the hospital.

Why was she in the hospital?

Sophie's head snapped to the side to find a small cot, similar to the one she was in, next to hers.

On it, was Keefe.

Almost immediately, Sophie's heart sank to the deep depths of her stomach. Keefe lay still in his cot, pale, weak. Numerous tubes connected to his arms, through his nose, machines monitoring his heartbeat, his breathing, but worst of all was a thick bandage wrapped around his chest. Right near his heart. The bullet had hit Keefe.

It should have hit her.

Instead, she was fine besides a small bump on the back of her head. She never saw herself as a trouper, why had she been spared? Keefe was incredible in every way, he was funny, yet kind, teasing, yet understanding, artistic, and empathetic. He understood her in ways no one else did. And yet, she had pushed him away for fear of being pulled too deep.

Too deep to swim back up.

But what had it gotten her? Hell, what had it gotten him? A permanent wound? PTSD? Nightmares? Aches? Restrictrictions? Reminders?

Death?

Would he survive this?

"Oh, you're awake!" A low, male voice pulled Sophie from her thoughts. She looked over to the door that she hadn't noticed before to find a doctor. Tall, olive-skinned, perhaps in his forties, staring at her thoughtfully.

"Yeah. I guess so." Sophie murmured in agreement.

"But he's not." This time she merely shook her head, worried that her words wouldn't be strong enough to hold back the hurricane of tears ready to pour. It seemed he understood her silence and decided not to ask any more triggering questions. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"Any pains?"

"Just achy."

"You were asleep for quite a while. Perhaps two or three days."

Days? She had been asleep for that long? What about her family had they come to see her? Her other friends? Had anyone come for Keefe? He answered her questions knowingly.

"We didn't allow anyone to see you until we were sure the both of you were in a stable state. We weren't entirely sure either of you were actually going to wake up. Shootings can be incredibly traumatic. It's hard to understand the level of hatred that could cause someone to do such a horrid thing."

Sophie really didn't want to talk about this with some random doctor. As far as she knew he wasn't a therapist and therefore had no right to talk about such things. Had he been in an event such as the one she had lived? Quite frankly, she would have preferred if no one talked about such things around her ever again.

The back of her head throbbed again and Sophie went to cradle it when she found she was restricted by the tube on her arm again. The doctor, seemingly deciding that she needed it no longer, detached it along with the few other medical instruments.

"Aches?" He asked, in regard to her thrumming head.

"No. I think I hit it when... when it happened. Not sure how or on what, though."

"Ah, yes. We thought that might result in some pain."

"We?"

"You were pushed."

"Pushed?" Sophie was so confused and it seemed the only thing she could do was repeat what the doctor was saying.

"You don't remember?"

"No... should I?"

"No, I suppose not. Serious head injury often does cause memory damage or-"

What was this guy dancing around? What was he trying to hide from Sophie?

"What happened?" She finally asked, needing to know.

He sighed, causing Sophie's heart to drop further down in her chest. Doctors showing worry or concern was never a good thing. "When we found you, uh, he was awake, Mr. Sencen, that is. Bleeding horribly and drifting in and out of consciousness, but awake. He said many things, most of which we couldn't catch. His words were quite slurred because of the pain and... Sorry, that's beside the point.

"What we could understand was that he kept saying something about doing what he could and making sure you were okay. That's all he wanted. Once we agreed to make sure you'd be fine and healthy in no time, despite the fact that he was the one clearly more hurt, he let himself drift away. You see, Ms. Foster, most of what he said was incomprehensible, but we believe that two bullets were fired. Each would have hit both of you directly at its mark, but instead of moving out of the way the second the door was opened and the shooter revealed, he pushed you."

Sophie was trembling by the time he finished. Keefe had done that for her? Keefe had done that? Why?

She didn't catch anything else that the doctor said until he was about to leave the room. "He's a good boy. He cares about you a lot." Then he mumbled something else Sophie couldn't understand, but she caught a few words: too good...him... he.... loves... And after, "But I'll let him tell you himself." He walked a little towards the door, "We're going to alert your family, let them know you've woken up and are in a perfectly stable condition. Also, I'm sorry to ask you this but we only found one family contact for Mr. Sencen are there-"

Sophie nodded her head solemnly, "Just his dad. That's all he's got." The doctor quieted, then he looked Sophie right in the eyes.

"No, he has you, and your friends that filled up the hospital's answering machines. Show him." The doctor sighed again, then pulled a chair from the wall and came to sit next to Sophie. "I've seen many cases where traumatic incidents have pulled people apart, and I can tell the two of you are close. Don't let this ruin your friendship, let it make it stronger. You'll regret it if it ruins what you two have."

What did they have? A friendship that was bound to dissipate when they went their separate ways in a few weeks? A fraying rope, threatening to break and drop one of them to their doom? A looming heartbreak?

"You seem to have quite a deep connection to this stuff, even for a doctor," Sophie observed, "care to explain?"

He smiled gently at her, then complied with her request. "When I was your age, perhaps a little older my best friend and I were trapped in a burning building." Sophie sucked in a quick breath, imagining the terror that must have been. "We were both okay," he assured her, "but he grew distant, traumatized by what had happened. He refused to go into tall buildings and stayed out of school for months. I was reckless then, I didn't see it as such a big deal as we had both escaped with only a few burns. Instead of making sure he was well and not spiraling into the depths of his worries and fears, I bragged about our adventure. I don't think much about it now, it's twenty years past, I have new friends, a family, a home, but I'm not sure about him. I wish we hadn't lost contact and that we hadn't pushed each other away. Unfortunately, what is done is done. I can only hope that the same doesn't happen to you and Mr. Sencen. I can tell that there's something else on your mind, let this help you grow stronger and repair what you have with him. Fire creates destruction, no matter if it's metaphorical or physical. Believe me, I know."

Then he stood to withdraw from the room, possibly to give another patient the same heartfelt speech he had given her. Perhaps it was all rehearsed, planned, to help other people like her recover. But regardless of if it was or wasn't, it had touched her, cleared her mind, and shown her the light.

Right before he left the room, leaving Sophie to her incriminating thoughts, she said, "I never got your name."

The doctor merely smiled at her, "Sometimes it's not titles or names that are important, but memories and messages," then he was gone. Sophie would later find that the man wasn't a doctor at all and that none of the other nurses or doctors knew him by his description. Perhaps it didn't matter who he was. He was right, many times names and titles didn't matter because he had left her with something far more enlightening.

Hope.