The kind nurse gets me a room to myself where I am taken out of my bloody clothes by an ever-helpful Rose. I manage to stumble around for a time before she tells me to get into bed almost immediately. She tells them in an authoritative tone that I am her twin sister and that my name is Lily Radcliffe, which they surprisingly believe.

She organizes for my clothes to be sent to the hospital laundry while she gives me a quick sponge bath to get off most of the blood. I cringe at the feeling of hot water going over and over my wounds, but know full well that sanitation is a key thing here. Then, she puts me in a hospital gown and helps me into bed. I am then given a morphine shot and then the whole world goes black.

. . .

In my dream I am walking somewhere. I don't know where I'm going, but I can hear David calling for help somewhere far away. As soon as I hear his voice, I feel the need to run towards it, but I find I cannot. I fall to my knees and am crawling through this thick, silvery fog to try and get to him. Then, his voice goes farther and farther away, and I cannot reach him. And then, the strangest thing of all happens.
I am falling...
Falling...
Falling...

. . .

I open my eyes and soon I am awake in a state of terror, with this massive heart monitor beeping out of control. It actually has one of those papers spewing out of it like a polygraph, and I suddenly forget where I am. There are two stickers on my chest, attaching me to the monitor, and I look around, seeing Rose coming toward me.
"It's okay," she says. "You've got to calm down or else they'll come back in here. It's very difficult to lie to doctors, you know."
I nod. I lower my eyes and see that my ankle has been straightened and popped back into place, and that there is a minor cast over it. My right hand is bound up from the injury it sustained from the bullet as well, as well as both my feet, also wrapped in casts. I find that I am surprised to see another cast on and around my left shoulder, making it difficult to move around at all.
"Your shoulder was dislocated," Rose says softly. "It probably happened from the fall and from helping David."
"David?" I whisper, my heart beating faster at the very thought of him. "You've got to tell me everything, Rose...right now," I say, my voice firm at her look of hesitation.
Rose raises her eyebrows. "Only if you calm down, Rose."
I find that I am able to be calm. "Is he dead?" I whisper.
"No. He's very much alive, Rose."
"How long have I been...?"
"Asleep?" asks Rose, turning and checking the prehistoric clock on the wall. "Just for a few hours or so, nothing major. It's just noon right now."
"Noon as in...?"
"April 13, 1982," she replies.
I nod. "And is David...?"
"He's awake and has been for about three hours more than you," Rose replies with ease, and I find I am shocked, due to the injuries he sustained. "He responded well to the medication—morphine included, unlike you—and has been requesting an abundance of Jell-O from each and every nurse and doctor who comes to see him."
"How are the...?"
"Wounds?" asks Rose, sitting beside me. "They'll heal eventually. He's all wrapped up in that sticky tape stuff. He's lucky that the bullet went completely through him and missed anything vital. It's funny; the doctors thought it went into his ribs when in fact it just missed them. He's very lucky, Rose; as I'm sure you can figure out."
I nod. "Am I allowed to see him?" I ask in a soft voice.
"Yes," Rose replies. "I already asked the doctor on your behalf." She crosses the room and opens the door. She retrieves a wheelchair apparently set aside just for me in the hallway and helps me get into it without much pain. I groan a little just to freak her out and am rewarded with a light slap to the head, as it is one of the only things without injury.
She walks me a short distance down the hall, which feels like it's taking forever, but I suppose everyone and every place has its own speed limit. I thank her when she wheels me to the room, my gaze lost upon David, and tell her to wait outside and to close the door. She pushes me in gently and up to the bed before giving David a knowing smile and departing out the door, closing it behind her.
"David," I whisper. "I'm so glad you're okay."
He smiles at me, then takes a good look at me, his brows knitting together in concern. "They wouldn't tell me about your injuries..."
I sigh, shrugging my shoulders, but wincing. "Dislocated left shoulder, bullet through my right hand and both feet, and a twisted ankle," I reply, wanting very much to shed the casts and to come out a new woman. I give him a weak smile. "The most important thing here is that we're alive, you know, David."
"We've still got to complete the mission," he says firmly. "We've got to make sure that you get born, Rose."
"Why?" I ask.
David fixes me with such a heartbreakingly beautiful expression that I could cry then and there as he does so, and I've never felt closer to him. He makes a move to reach for me and I bring my wheelchair closer to his bed. Feeling comforted around him, I hope that Rose is able to hold off any major hospital staff, at least for a while.

"I would have thought you'd have guessed by now, Rose. It's been the case for years, only I wasn't sure until last night if you felt this way, too, but now, I've got to tell you."
"Tell me what?" I ask.

"I love you, Rose Radcliffe," he says. And, with more than likely all his strength, he leans forward and kisses me. I reach up with my right arm—because my shoulder isn't in need of relaxation—and pull him closer to me. I return the kiss with full force, and I never want to let him go. My mouth opens beneath his as it did the night before, and our tongues each mingle for a moment before exploring the other's mouth. His own heart monitor begins beeping slightly, and I know we must pull away.
Tears fall out of my eyes as he pulls away from me, and I know that it would be wrong to hold back any longer. "I hated what you did with Amber Seymour," I say in an accusing tone. "All these years, I've loved you, and yet you still did what you did. Why?"
He smiles a small smile. "I wanted to make you jealous, but later I decided the main reason was that I wanted you to come to your senses."
Then I am shaking my head. "Come to my senses?" I demand. "What are you talking about, David Caldwell?" I ask.
"I wanted you to come to your senses that you loved me," he replies softly, almost as if he cannot believe it himself. "I love you."
"I love you, too," I whisper. I want to stand up and throw this godforsaken wheelchair against the wall, but there is nothing I can do. I reach my right hand to his and clasp it. "What does this mean for Amber Seymour, if I may ask?" I inquire of him.
David smiles. "She's going to have to find herself someone else to play with, because I am done with her."
"And?" I ask.
"And I've been taken since that day when we were in the closet playing Seven Minutes in Heaven," he replies, before taxing his strength once more by leaning forward and kissing me again.