Not real.
I blinked, but Holden was still there in the doorway. Suddenly, I felt my breath kick up, my vision blurry at the edges from not taking in near enough oxygen as my lungs protested and my chest heaved.
Then, it was black.
This time, I could feel Jack next to me before I woke up.
“Easy, Perrin, you are okay. You are at the hospital. I’m ok and I am here with you,” Jack’s low voice whispered in my ear before I was fully awake.
My mind doesn’t panic. It should, maybe, but it doesn’t.
Jack’s here with me, and I know I couldn’t have really seen Holden.
“What happened?” I ask, unable to look at him - I don’t want to see pity or worry, knowing it’s my fault.
“Hey, baby,” Jack says, gently pulling my face to him. “Bannon called them intrusive thoughts and the ketamine won’t be helping . . ..”
“Fuck,” I say, grumbling. When I was in Boston, I worked with a resident for a while who had intrusive memories from some PTSD trauma. His were triggered by the smell and sound of rain on metal. I wondered what triggered mine, but Ididn’t think it was Bishop himself.
“The nurse will be here in a minute with something for your pain,” Jack said, brushing a kiss against the very stitches I had been examining before I thought I saw Holden. Bannon, I was guessing was the one behind the handiwork, finally showing me the trademark small stitches he liked to brag about.
“Ok, but I want to talk to Bish before they give me anything,” I said, and I noticed Jack look out, and I see what I think is Bish’soutline through the window. I’m right, andBish carefully entered when Jack motions to him.
“Come on in, Bish. It’s not you.”
“What do you need, Perrin?” Bishop asked in his easy way, his gray eyes not missing anything in how he assessed me. He looked relaxed, more than I had ever seen, but he also looked shadowed for a moment. Like he was just a bit more on edge than he should be, or that he was forcing away some unpleasant thoughts.
Distracted, maybe? The agent had always seemed laser-focused.
“I want you to tell me what happened, in the locker room,” I said, and again an exchange between the two of them. “But, Jack doesn’t need to hear this,” I added. “Did you even explain who you are?”
I could feel Jack tense up beside me.
“I know what happened, P,” he said.
I looked to Jack, then to Bishop.
“What the fuck, Bish?” I said, my anger mixing with the pain that was now coming in waves a bit stronger with each lap. Ketamine wouldn’t be helping that either. My tone was cold, but I wouldn’t have taken it back. I was good with emotions, able to keep them in check and remain cool under pressure. But right now it was like I was struggling to tug a rope that was slipping every second a little farther out of my hand, and I couldn’t pull it back.
Jack touched my arm, running his hand to my bicep under my hospital gown and leaving it there. “Perrin, Bishop asked me to help, for access to some of the Mann buildings, months ago.”
“So, that means he debriefs you on what happened?” I asked, fury still in my voice.
“No, that means I asked to be kept in the loop. They set up surveillance in the conference room down from my office,” Jack said.
My stomach dropped. I looked at Bishop, and at least he had the decency to flinch from my gaze, whatever he saw there.
“You asshole,” I breathed, anger that I rarely ever felt rising to the surface. “I asked for one thing, that you keep Jack safe - and youinvolvedhim? You fucking . . ..”
Jack cut me off by cupping my face, but my whole body was heaving. I wanted off the bed, and I wanted to come after Bishop with a fury, no matter how much trying to hurt all over.
Jack didn’t deserve this.
“I did what was necessary to make sure we could help you, Perrin. I did not mean to involve Jack, but there wasn’t any other way,” Bishop said, actually looking sorry for his actions.
“So you what, told him what happened?” I looked to Jack, seeing more in his face than I wanted. “Jack, what? Tell me,” I demanded, something in his look turning my anger into heart-wrenching sadness.
“I saw it, P. Heard it. I was in the room where they monitored . . ..” Jack began, his hands resting lightly on my arms.
