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I hung the headset back on the hook, gave Bumble’s arm a quick squeeze, and trotted after Jax. Who, it turned out, had in fact made the medics wait for me just inside the doors.

"Friend from the service?" he asked, taking my hand as I reached for him.

I nodded. "Yeah. Bumble and I flew together a bunch. We were in the same SAR unit."

"Bumble?"

"Don't ask, ‘cause I can't say," I said. "A pilot's callsign is a personal thing, and the story behind it is theirs to tell."

He just nodded, squeezed my hand. After a few moments, he looked up and pointed at the drop-tile ceiling overhead. "Look, Tea. A roof!"

One of the medics glanced at me. "We gave him some meds. He's a little loopy."

I snickered. "He must've forgotten to mention the THC in his system. From several hours ago, so probably not interacting, but still.”

Jax gave a goofy smile. "Oops."

The medic quirked an eyebrow. "You had pot with you? Out there?"

Jax nodded, wide-eyed. "It was in my bag." He looked at me. "Can bears get high?"

"I dunno, Jax," I said, amused. "Probably."

"Maybe I coulda smoked mama bear down. Avoided the whole…” he gestured vaguely at his side. "Thing."

"You mean the grievous injury you sustained defending me from a pissed-off, thousand-pound mama grizzly?" I said. "That thing?"

He nodded. "Yup. Thing." He blinked hard. "I didn't like that thing. The bear thing. The claws thing. It hurts." He closed his eyes. "Whoo, I'm fuckin' high. What'd you give me, bro?"

"You neglected to mention being high already, kid,” the medic scolded. "Fortunately, you'll be fine. But that could've been dangerous."

"Bears are dangerous."

I patted Jax on the cheek. "Why don't we just shush, for now, huh? Relax."

He nodded, closed his eyes for a second, and then they snapped open. "Don't go."

I squeezed his hand. "Not going anywhere. I'll see you when you get out of surgery."

"Surgery?" He sounded almost panicked.

"Well, stitches, at least. Gotta get you properly fixed up."

He nodded again. "Okay."

They wheeled him away, and another medic took my elbow. "Why don't we get you looked over, huh?" She was a middle-aged woman with blond hair going steel gray, readers on top of her head, and the brusque compassion of a charge nurse. "This way. He'll be okay, dear. But you need to be checked out."

“I’m fine," I said, waving her away.

She just peered at me. "Mm-hmmm."

I knew the tone—I wasn't going anywhere until she was satisfied with my care. "Okay, okay. Do your check. But I'm fine."

I was fine. I needed some fluids, so while Jax was getting put back together, I allowed the nurse to put in an IV and start some fluids. The nurse was a devious sort, however, and managed to lower the lights and close the blinds without me noticing, and then lowered the upper half of the bed so I would be more comfortable, and then I was abruptly seized by a vicious wave of exhaustion.

I'd been holding it together by a shoestring, I realized.

I consigned myself to my fate, and drifted off into a thankfully dreamless sleep.