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"I came as soon as I heard." Nyla storms into the waiting room, dressed in joggers and a jacket thrown over a stretched-out T-shirt with a few permanent stains on it. As soon as she gets to her, she crushes her in a tight hug.
On days like this, Angela wishes she didn't have a self-sacrificing fool for a best friend. Honestly, a job that doesn't land her in a hospital either as a patient or a concerned family member every week like clockwork could be nice too. Maybe an early retirement and living on the cushy trust fund isn't such a terrible idea after all. It would certainly do wonders for the frequency of her hair appointments. Maybe Angela should send Tim the bill next time, seeing as he is a sole contributor to at least half of the gray hairs she's getting.
"Thanks," the detective says when they move apart. "I needed that."
"How are they? Grey told me it could be serious."
"We don't know yet. They've just brought him back from scans." Angela is doing her very best not to give in to fear. But head trauma is a serious thing, and even Tim's thick skull isn't made to withstand the impact against concrete.
"What the hell happened?" Nyla asks, evidently struggling to keep concern out of her voice.
"A member of the militia went off the rails when a patrol came with a warrant for his arrest and took his girlfriend as a hostage. Tim and Lucy got called to scene among the others, and somehow Chen managed to talk the guy down. He was giving up, or so we thought, when he came out of the house with a grenade. Before anyone could react, he threw it. Tim dove in to shield Lucy. They were closest to the explosion."
"Fuck. This sounds bad," Harper says on a heavy exhale. "How is she?"
"Pretty banged up, too. But she was conscious when they brought her in. They are doing some tests now."
"And the militia guy?"
"Expired on the scene." Bloodthirsty as it sounds, a part of Angela is glad he met his end. Otherwise, she doesn't know if she'd be able to control herself around him properly.
A few more people come in, joining the sea of black uniforms. Everyone is anxious to learn the condition of their fellow officers. Angela has never been good at this sort of thing. Waiting makes her antsy, turning the woman into a caged animal, pacing around its enclosure. Nyla's hand on her shoulder keeping her in place and a familiar gesture of worrying her wedding ring don't provide much comfort right now. She feels like she might jump straight out of her skin when a neurologist she met at the intake finally appears in the hallway.
"Doctor, how is he?"
"He regained consciousness and is stable for now. The preliminary tests didn't show anything too concerning, but he's suffered a concussion, so we're keeping him for monitoring."
"Thank god," Harper mumbles on her left.
"Can we see him?"
"In a few moments. But not more than two people at a time." The doctor nods. "Which of you is his fiancée?"
"His fiancée?" Nyla finds Angela's eyes with an obvious question reflected in her gaze.
"Yes, he asked about her as soon as he woke up."
"Shit," Angela sighs and covers her eyes with a hand for a brief moment of reprieve.
Shit is the only suitable reaction here. If Tim is asking about Isabel, who hasn't been his wife, much less a fiancée, for many years now, how much time has he lost? Her only experience with amnesia comes from watching telenovelas with Mami, but this sort of thing can actually happen after a head trauma, right?
"He doesn't have a fiancée," Angela explains. "Not for many years now."
"Well, that certainly isn't the best sign," the doctor replies, but she doesn't look too worried about it. Should Angela follow her lead? Ultimately, she is the expert here. "Some confusion is to be expected after a concussion. Hopefully, things will start to clear out as he gets some rest."
"And if they don't?" Nyla voices the question she's dreading to hear the answer to.
"Why don't we cross that bridge when we get to it?" the doctor says in a reassuring tone, but Angela doesn't feel reassured even for one bit. Truth be told, she is freaking out.
Her partner reads her state easily, as always, and finishes the conversation with the doctor while most of their words fly by without registering.
When the woman is gone, Nyla turns her attention back to her friend, squeezing her shoulder to bring her back to reality. "Everything is going to be okay. Bradford is a tough guy, he'll recover and get his memory back, and this will be a new story in your arsenal to tease him forever about."
Angela swallows the boulder caught in her throat. "Do you really think so?"
"I do." And if she sees some hesitation in Nyla's eyes, she chooses to ignore it.
She doesn't notice time passing by, but soon enough, a nurse comes to tell them that it's okay to visit.
"What should we tell him?" she asks, as they follow the woman down the corridor to the patient rooms.
"Doc said not to challenge his reality for now and give his mind time to settle." Gladly, at least one of them was listening to the recommendations.
Tim is lying motionless with his eyes closed when they enter the room. An irrational fear squeezes Angela's heart, even though she can clearly hear the low beeping of the monitors. Luckily, he notices them as they come closer and opens his eyes. For the most part, Tim looks okay. There is a bandage on his head and multiple cuts and already-forming bruises mark his skin, but his gaze is clear, and it seems as if he recognizes her at least. Under these circumstances, Angela is taking this as a win.
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine," Tim dismisses her concern immediately. Apparently, even being hurled into the hard ground can't deprive this man of his innate stubbornness. "How is she?"
Right. Angela exchanges glances with her partner. Not challenging his reality should be clear-cut advice, but how exactly are they supposed to do that? Should she say that Isabel has stepped out for a moment? What are they going to do when enough time passes, and they can't keep up the pretence any longer?
Nyla comes to her rescue with a diversionary tactic. "What's the last thing you remember?"
"Why does it matter?" Tim grunts, and Angela doesn't need the heart monitor to let her know that he's quickly growing agitated.
Even though the conversation went right over her head, she's pretty sure keeping the patient calm was somewhere at the top of the list of recommendations for dealing with a head trauma.
"How is she?" the man repeats, a deep line crossing his forehead emphasizing his concern.
Before either of the women can come up with a response, the door flies open. Lucy, dressed in a hospital gown, charges in with a nervous-looking nurse in tow. She appears a lot worse for wear. A significant portion of the impact seemingly was to her head as well. The left side of her face is overtaken by deep purple, and Angela catches a few spots actively bleeding on her scalp. Taking into account her state and the escort, it looks like Lucy fled her own room before receiving adequate treatment.
"Ma'am, you can't run away like that. You have an orbital fracture. We have to wait for the ophthalmologist to come and examine you properly," the nurse tells her off.
But Lucy completely ignores her. Instead, she maneuvers her way around the detectives towards the man on the bed. The moment she sees him, mostly unharmed, her shoulders sag with relief.
"Tim," she exhales barely above a whisper, and has to catch her balance on one of the handrails. "Nobody would tell me anything."
Tim looks at her wide-eyed without saying anything for several moments, and Angela is momentarily overtaken by an impending sense of doom. She can't do anything but witness the unfolding disaster. It's like she's watching a meteorite collision happening in slow-motion right in front of her eyes.
As soon as Lucy recovers, she pulls herself upright and makes a few steps closer to the head of the bed. Next, she dives straight for Tim.
Angela isn't sure what reaction she anticipates. What will Tim do when he gets over the shock of the initial encounter and realizes that the woman currently in his arms is very much not his fiancée, turned wife, turned ex? Not only that, but it's a woman who, by all accounts, is completely strange to him. As much as she loves her friend, she can't vouch for the emotional intelligence of Tim ten years ago. Angela should probably intervene so that no further harm comes by accident to already-injured Lucy.
But then the strangest thing happens.
Tim envelops Lucy in a protective embrace, mumbling into her hair. "Fuck, I'm so glad you're alright. I'm so sorry, Luce."
"What are you sorry for?" the woman asks, pulling away just enough to see his face. "You caught me and took most of the impact. Are you alright?"
"Fine, just another concussion. Your eye looks terrible," the man says, gently running his fingers over the darkened skin.
"Ma'am, we really should get you back to bed," the nurse reminds them about her presence again, and it finally pulls Angela out of her temporary stress-induced stupor.
So these two remember each other. Crisis averted.
Then, it takes several moments more for all the puzzle pieces to click together. A nervous laugh bubbles out of Angela, and now the three of her friends are looking at her with concern.
Tim asked for his fiancée.
But he didn't expect Isabel.
And he very clearly knows Lucy.
Thus…
"Timothy! You asshole!" Angela walks towards the bed and smacks him on his unharmed shin. This is partly due to the emotions running high and partly due to her utter indignation. "Did you get engaged without telling me?"
"Ouch!"
It's easy to read Lucy's surprise, even on the face that at the moment resembles a mask of pain. "You told her?"
"No, I didn't," Tim denies, his expression caught between annoyed and confused.
"You told the doctor," Nyla, who's been watching the scene silently so far, chimes in.
"Oh. Right." The frown leaves his forehead. "Sorry, babe."
"So not only did you two get back together in secret, you also managed to propose? Without clueing me in? How could you!" It feels so much easier to be complaining about the apparent injustice instead of focusing on their bleak hospital surroundings and the circumstances that brought them here. To let her mind be overflown with something besides fear and to give tension time to leave her muscles. Bickering with Tim is familiar. Safe. Bickering is something Angela can certainly do no matter what happens to them.
"Not that it's an absolute requirement," her friend notes, rolling his eyes. "But I was going to tell you tonight during dinner."
"We were," Lucy confirms, once again relaxing into the hug.
"Blame the perp for messing up the announcement."
"I can blame you both at the same time, thank you," the woman fires back.
"Ma'am, we seriously have to go now," the nurse doesn't let up, sensing a coming lull in the conversation.
"Luce, you need to get that checked out," Tim joins the convincing. "I'll be okay here, and you can come back once everything is done."
Lucy rises up, but keeps her eyes on the man, hesitating.
"I'll stay with him," Angela says to reassure her.
"And I will go with Lucy," Nyla adds, so that everyone can have a little less to worry about.
"Thanks," Lucy addresses both of the women in turn before taking Nyla's offered hand and getting up on her feet.
The nurse, satisfied with compliance at last, joins them supporting Lucy on the other side, and the three of them walk away.
Angela finds an unoccupied spot at the foot of the bed and sits down, looking at her friend. "So, tell me everything," she drawls.
"You know what?" Tim throws an unamused look her way. "I think I'm actually very, very tired. I should rest."
"Nah-uh." Angela shakes her head. "Engagements have rules, like telling your best friend first, which you clearly broke. So now, pay up. How did you do it?"
Tim stays silent for a couple of moments, but then he cracks, just as she knew he would, and begins telling her about choosing the ring.
Listening to him, Angela can finally relax. For now, everyone is okay. That's all that truly matter.
Tonight though, she will be the one saying her prayer of gratitude that her friend gets to annoy her another day.