The large glass doors at the entrance to Llanview Hospital’s emergency room slide open and a gurney is quickly wheeled in by two paramedics.

Lying on the gurney is an unconscious Evangeline Williamson, victim of multiple gunshots inflicted by two unknown assailants who’d open fire on the Palace restaurant earlier that evening. There’s an oxygen mask covering her face and one of the paramedics is carrying the IV bottle that’s kept her stable enough to be transported to the hospital after losing a great deal of blood at the scene.

Lieutenant John McBain follows closely behind the gurney, a bloodied jacket clutched tightly at his side, his attention on Evangeline and never wavering, worry deeply etched in his face.

Just up ahead in the corridor waits Dr. Michael McBain, John’s brother. In addition to calling ahead to the hospital’s trauma center to prepare them for the patient’s arrival and injuries, the paramedics phoned ahead to alert Dr. McBain – at John’s insistence.

“How is she?” Michael asks, touching Evangeline’s cheek lightly once the gurney reaches him. Her skin feels cool to the touch.

“Patient’s stable but just barely,” one of the paramedics answers.

“Okay, take her into Trauma One. They’re all set up and waiting for her.”

The paramedics wheel the gurney in through the double doors into the designated exam room as instructed. When his brother starts to follow the gurney into the room, Michael stops him.

“Whoa Johnny,” Michael begins, standing in his path, “you’re gonna have to wait out here.”

“I don’t wanna leave her alone.”

“She’s not alone. There’s a whole crew of doctors in there waiting for her.”

“Michael -”

“I’m serious, John. You’re gonna have to give ‘em room to work.”

“Fine!” he shouts and stops where he is. “Okay? I’ve stopped. You happy now?”

“Come on, bro,” Michael says, watching as John begins to pace back and forth in front of the window to trauma room #1, still holding tight to that jacket with the blood on it. He notices the blood on his clothes, spots what he thinks is blood on his hands. He can only imagine what must be going through his brother’s mind at that moment – how he must be turning himself inside out. “They’re gonna take care of Evangeline. You need to give them the space.”

“I know, I know. I just…I don’t like being this far away from her…”

“I get you,” Michael says. “I kinda wish I was in there, too only Dr. Haines – the ER resident…well…He thinks I’m too close to Evangeline…”

“I’d feel better if you were in there, too,” John says, his eyes always returning to the glass – taking in what’s going on inside the exam room. He notices a man tending Evangeline - about fifty years old, graying hair, deep set lines in his face, glasses, wearing blue surgical scrubs. “Who is that with her?”

“That’s Dr. Haines. The surgical resident’s just finishing up in the OR. She’s on her way down – Dr. Carol Young. She’s good, Johnny. She’ll take good care of Evangeline…I uh…I hear she had a pretty rough time in the ambulance on the way in…”

“The machine started beeping like crazy…They had to use those paddle things. What do you call them?”

“Paddles, dude,” he teases, trying to lighten the moment just a bit.

John looks at him, his eyes twinkling for the briefest of seconds.

“Yeah, right – paddles…But Evangeline’s strong, you know? She came out of it. She came back.”

“That’s my girl. E’s definitely a powerhouse. She’s gonna be okay, John. Believe it.”

“I do, Mikey,” he says. “I do...I just hate that she’s in there – that she had to go through any of this…”

“I know what you mean. Why the hell would anybody just bust into the Palace and start shooting?”

“LPD’s still trying to piece that together,” John answers vaguely, ever mindful of being a cop. “I should have been there…”

“Hey look, if this is another one of your guilt trips about things you got no control over, just stop it right now, okay? Cause I’m telling you that you out here feelin’ guilty and responsible ain’t gonna help Evangeline in there.”

“I should have been there, Michael,” he insists. “I was supposed to be there. We were supposed to meet for dinner.”

“Wait a minute,” Michael says. “What are you talking about?”

“I was supposed to meet Evangeline at the Palace for dinner, okay…but I was running late, you know? Then…I got this supposedly urgent call from Natalie…”

“Natalie?” He rolls his eyes and sighs. “How come I’m not surprised that she’s part of this?”

“And while I’m wasting my time there…two guys walk in and start shooting up the Palace…If I’d been there, Evangeline wouldn’t be going through this right now. She never would’ve been shot.”

“You don’t know that, John. For all you know…you both could have been shot.”

“I do know that,” he insists. “If I’d been there when this thing went down, I would have done whatever I had to do to protect Evangeline. Believe me. She wouldn’t be lying in there right now.”

“No, you’d probably be in there and she’d be out here worrying herself sick about you.”

“Better me than her.”

“So what was so urgent with Natalie anyway?”

“That’s just it,” John tells him. “It was nothing, you know – just Natalie and that so-called mother of hers playing their little high school games, trying to find some way of coming between me and Evangeline.”

“Again.”

“Again…I don’t know, Mikey. When am I gonna learn?”

“This is still not your fault, John.”

“I’ll tell you one thing, though. If she comes out of this…” He stops to collect himself, allowing no room for doubt. “When she comes out of this…” He turns to the window, staring in at the emergency room staff as they work on Evangeline. “Nothing and nobody’s ever gonna come between us again.”

Michael briefly touches John’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna pop my head in,” he says. “See how she’s doing.”

“Thanks.”

Michael pushes open the double doors to the exam room and walks in as John resumes his vigil outside the window. He can’t really see much – only a still unconscious Evangeline still lying on the gurney covered by a thin white sheet, oxygen mask covering her nose and mouth, an IV bottle and a bag of blood hanging nearby. There are about six people in the room with her, including the two paramedics and this Dr. Haines that Michael talked about – each one going about the business of their job - moving around her, checking her pulse and breathing, attaching still more tubes, examining her wounds. There’s a certain order to the seeming disorder, indicating that the people working on Evangeline know what they’re doing. And that makes John rest just a little bit easier.

But only a little bit easier.

Even through the glass, he can hear the steady beep of the heart monitor that’s been connected to her – a sound that comforts him after what happened in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. He remembers what the machine in the ambulance sounded like then – when her heart suddenly started beating wildly and the heart machine reflected it by piercing the air with those awful frantic and high-pitched squeals. If the paramedics hadn’t been able to get back to the steady beep – if they hadn’t been able to get Evangeline’s heart back on track, it would have meant that he’d lost her for good.

And after growing so close to her over the past year or so – after feeling her inside of him and almost not remembering what his life was like before she walked into it - he knew that it would’ve destroyed him for good.

But she made it back. She held on and they were able to get her heart beating normally again.

John stares in through the exam room window and wonders how everything got so crazy so fast. Seems as if he was talking on his cell phone to Evangeline one minute, making plans to have dinner together after their respective long and busy work days, and then the next minute there she was on the ground – gunshot wound to her arm, gunshot wound to her abdomen, blood all over her beautiful dress.

‘I should’ve been there. I could’ve kept this from happening to you…’

“I’m sorry…” he whispers.

Just then through the glass, he catches sight of Michael coming back out of the exam room after talking to Dr. Haines. He moves closer to the doors as his brother steps through them.

“Well?”

“She’s stable,” Michael says. “They need to take some pictures – find out what’s going on in there – before they take her up to surgery. She’s…in pretty bad shape, John. The bullet collapsed her right lung – looks like it nicked a couple of ribs. The oxygen mask is working well enough – she’s able to breathe. But she’s bleeding internally…”

“What are you saying, Michael?” John asks, hesitantly. “You telling me that she could die?”

“John -”

“No,” he firmly dismisses. “You know what? We’re not even gonna go there, okay? Evangeline’s probably the strongest person I know. Nothing keeps her down for long. This won’t, either.”

“Look,” Michael begins, “all I’m saying is that the bullet did a lot of damage, okay? Came real close to doin’ a whole lot more. They’ve got a lot of repair work to do. But the good news is that she’s stable…and strong like you said…”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah, she is…She’s gonna be okay, Michael.”

The doors to the exam room open and the two paramedics walk out, on their way back down the hall.

“Hope things turn out okay, Lieutenant,” offers the shorter of the two – the first one who treated Evangeline at the scene.

“Yeah. Hey, thanks again, you guys.”

“Just doin’ our job,” Powell, the second paramedic tells him.

“Yeah well, thanks anyway.”

The exam room doors are pushed open again but this time by two hospital employees – one in blue scrubs and one in the requisite white. They’re pushing the gurney where Evangeline lies unconscious, headed in the opposite direction.

John’s eyes are immediately drawn to the site of Evangeline’s pretty face as she lies there. She’d look as if she were only sleeping if it wasn’t for the oxygen mask covering her face – the IV tubes attached to her, the thin hospital gown draped across her slender shoulders and the white sheet covering the rest of her.

He reaches over, his hand gently brushing her cheek – softly stroking her dark hair.

“So they’re taking her for x-rays?” he repeats.

“That’s all right now. Just get a few pictures – make sure they know what they’re up against. You’re gonna need to wait here, John.”

He sighs.

“I figured that,” he says. “Besides…I got a couple of phone calls to make…”

“Oh yeah. Right…Hey listen,” Michael begins, following the gurney down the hall, “you do what you need to do and I’ll go with Evangeline. This shouldn’t take long.”

“Okay,” John says. “Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“You look out for her...”

“Will do,” he promises.

John watches as they all turn a corner, disappearing from sight. He tells himself that it’s okay not to be by her side for a little while – that Michael’s with her, that he’ll keep watch over her and protect her, that the doctors need to take x-rays, that’s all – x-rays that will help them to make her better.

Still it’s all he can do not to trail them down the hall. Even with his brother being a doctor, it’s never very far from John’s mind that their father wouldn’t have died when he did if the doctor that treated him hadn’t made a fatal mistake – had been on his game. It’s so hard not to remember what happened then at a time like this, with Evangeline lying hurt and helpless – just like his father was.

‘Michael’s with her. He’ll make sure she’s okay…’

Even with that, John doesn’t want to think about anything or anyone else. He wants to focus all of his energies on Evangeline – to somehow transfer his strength to her. But he knows that he can’t – at least not for the moment. Right now, there are a couple of other things that need to be taken care of.

He spots the emergency room station across the hall behind him. He sees a telephone on the desk and heads for it.

He takes out his badge and holds it up for a woman in the familiar surgical scrubs, who happens to be the only one at the station at that moment.

“Can I use this phone?” he asks as he approaches, draping the jacket over his shoulder.

“Of course, Lieutenant,” she answers. “Dial 9 for an outside line.”

“Thanks,” he says.

He puts his badge into one of his back pockets and picks up the receiver. His right hand feels a little stiff and he shakes it out a bit before dialing. He hadn’t realized how tight a grip he’d had on the jacket until this moment. He dials 9 first and then the next numbers pop into his head for some reason he’s not quite sure of. Probably because he’s called the number once or twice to reach Evangeline when she’s been there visiting. He dials the numbers and waits.

The line is picked up.

“Hello?” comes Nora Buchanan’s pleasant voice.

“Hey,” he says. “It’s me – John. Listen uh…Evangeline’s down here at Llanview Hospital – the emergency room. She’s been shot.”

“Shot?” Nora repeats incredulously. “Okay now, wait a minute! What do you mean she’s been shot? Shot? How? When? Why?”

“There was a shooting tonight at the Palace. She was hit.”

“I just saw the news report on TV but they didn’t identify any of the victims – at least no one besides that Robert Castor guy,” she says. “Oh, my God! Is she alright?”

“They’re taking x-rays before she goes into surgery. From what Michael says…it sounds pretty serious.”

“I have to get someone to stay with Matthew but I’m on my way,” Nora tells him. “And John? Listen, Evangeline’s a fighter. She’s gonna be okay, alright?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I know…See you when you get here.”

He hangs up the receiver. Then he reaches into his back pocket and takes out his wallet. Somewhere in between the dollar bills of different denominations is a folded up piece of white paper. He takes out the piece of paper, closing his wallet and putting it back into his pocket.

He unfolds the piece of paper, seeing the telephone number written in Evangeline’s handwriting. He never imagined he’d have to dial this number – at least not for a reason like this. The truth is that he’d hoped he’d never have to do it for any reason. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, steeling himself.

He picks up the receiver again and dials 9 for an outside line. Then he very deliberately dials the 11-digit out of town telephone number. His heart pounds as he waits for the connection to be made.

One ring, two rings, three rings.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Williamson,” John says. “It’s John McBain. I apologize for calling so late…It’s about Evangeline…”