Summary: Y/N is an assassin who finds herself severely injured after going up against an adversary. After losing consciousness in her room, will someone discover her before time runs out?
TW: Blood, injuries, mentions of medical tools, gunshot wounds and procedures.
Y/N rushed across the lobby, holding her coat tightly wrapped around herself as she pressed the button for the elevator. Her heart was racing, sweat gathering on her forehead as dark spots danced across her vision.
Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, taking a breath before rushing into the elevator when the doors parted. Y/N hit the button for her floor repeatedly, head pounding along with her pulse.
Y/N knew that she was dangerously close to losing consciousness and she needed to get back to her room. Her coat was saturated with her blood, the material feeling heavy as she leaned into the wall.
The doors slid shut slowly and the elevator began to rise, the shift making Y/N feel even more unsteady on her feet. She was exhausted, body trembling from the adrenaline that coursed through her veins.
Y/N was grateful to be numb to the pain, but she could feel the soreness beginning to creep in. Y/N forced herself out of the elevator when the doors parted, walking down the hallway to her room.
She reached a hand out, guiding herself along the wall as she gulped. Her throat felt dry and she was beginning to feel lightheaded. Y/N stuffed a hand into her pocket as she arrived at her room, swiping the key and stumbling inside.
A loud whooshing sound echoed in her ears as the door shut behind her. Y/N reached out to steady herself before her knees gave out unexpectedly. Y/N's hand slid across the table, knocking her keycard and a small lamp onto the floor with a clatter.
Y/N let out a soft groan before attempting to get to her feet again. She pulled her knees up underneath herself with a grimace, her blood staining the cream carpets as she crawled towards the desk.
Y/N knew that she would die if she didn't make it to the phone. She grabbed onto the corner of the desk, pulling her body up with a whimper. Y/N reached out across the desk, fingers brushing against the edge of the phone.
Her fingertips were covered in blood, making it almost impossible to pull the phone closer. Y/N gritted her teeth as she pushed the phone to the edge of the desk before knocking it down onto the floor.
Y/N slumped against the leg of the desk, her vision continuing to darken. Y/N fell onto her side, reaching out for the phone weakly. Her fingers barely managed to make contact with the handset before she lost consciousness.
John looked up from his gun as he heard another item thudding against the floor in the next room. He set his towel aside, assembling his gun with expert precision before standing up from his seat.
John held onto the gun as he made his way over to the door, stepping out of his room and moving to the room beside him. The blood on the handle made him stiffen, he had known Y/N for years and she had always been incredibly good at what she did.
He looked down, eyes following the trail of blood leading to the elevator. The amount of blood made him concerned, it clearly wasn't a small injury that she had suffered.
John knocked on the door, "Y/N, are you in there?" He called, waiting silently for a response.
Y/N didn't respond and John quickly turned to his side, ramming his shoulder into the door. The door gave way after a few bashes and he stepped into her room. John searched the room quickly with his gun raised, tucking it into his holster before kneeling down next to Y/N.
His fingers slipped under her jaw and found her pulse, feeling the rapid pulsation against his fingertips. John leaned over her, grabbing the phone and calling the front desk.
The line rang once before Charon picked up, "How can I help you? " He questioned.
"We need a doctor up here... Now," John said.
"I'll send him up," Charon replied.
"Thanks," John muttered, hanging up the phone.
He sat back on his heels, flicking her jacket out of the way, "Shit," He muttered.
An alarming amount of blood had pooled in her jacket and soaked into the material of her clothing. John pressed his hand firmly against her side, feeling a miniscule amount of relief when she groaned softly.
"You're gonna be okay," He stated.
....
Y/N's eyes fluttered open, she cried out in pain at the feeling of someone digging around in her wound. John rested his hand on her arm, keeping her still as the doctor searched for the bullet in her side.
"Hold still. It's almost over," John instructed.
"Got it," The Doctor said, dropping the bullet into the metal dish with a soft clink.
Y/N slumped against the mattress, closing her eyes as she breathed heavily. The doctor cleaned the wound before stitching it closed carefully.
"All finished," He said.
"Thank you," John stated.
The Doctor nodded as he packed his items before silently making his way out of the hotel room. Y/N moved to sit up with a grimace, looking down at herself to see the mangled remains of her blood-stained shirt.
"You should rest. You lost a lot of blood," John said.
"I'm fine," Y/N muttered, noticing the IV in her arm. John grabbed her wrist when she reached up to remove it.
"You need fluids. Leave it alone," He said sternly.
"Can I at least change my shirt?" Y/N questioned.
"Sure," He nodded.
Y/N reached for the IV again, "I'll get it. You stay put," John said.
Y/N huffed, "Can you get me a black t-shirt, please?" She questioned, he nodded.
John stepped over to her bag, carefully searching through the contents before locating the shirt.
"I'll get you a cloth for the blood," He said, she nodded.
John returned momentarily with a warm cloth, briefly disconnecting the IV tubing for her to clean her skin and change her shirt. Her entire body was covered in dark purple bruises, her lip was split and she definitely had multiple broken ribs.
John hated seeing her like that, she was an incredible person and she deserved better than this. John had a brief taste of what life could be and he wished that Y/N could consider it, but he knew that she never would.
Her entire life had been nothing but blood, death and pain. She had never known anything different and it was unlikely that she would ever lay down her weapons.
Y/N moved to stand up from the edge of the bed, "No, sit back down," John said.
"I'm fine," Y/N stated.
"You almost bled out on the floor an hour ago. You're not fine," He replied.
Y/N rolled her eyes, sitting back down on the bed slowly with a grimace. John knelt down in front of her, carefully reconnecting the tubing and opening the clamp slowly.
"You're staying here tonight. I want to keep an eye on you," John said.
Y/N's brows furrowed as she looked around the room, quickly realizing that John must have brought her into his room.
"They're replacing the carpets in your room. You know that your blood is supposed to stay inside your body, right?" He questioned.
"I tried to keep it that way, believe me," Y/N said.
"You had two stab wounds and a gunshot wound... It doesn't sound like you tried very hard," John said.
"A few of those guys were massive, John. I didn't stand a chance," Y/N replied, shifting uncomfortably.
"Why didn't you call me? I could've helped you," John said.
"It wasn't your fight," Y/N stated.
John grabbed the bottle of pills from the nightstand, twisting off the cap and shaking two tablets into his hand.
"Take these. They'll help with the pain," He said.
Y/N held out her hand, John placed the tablets in her hand and set the bottle back on the nightstand. He picked up the glass of water and passed it to her, watching her pop the pills into her mouth and swallow them.
"I need you to know that I'm always here to help you," John said.
Y/N shook her head, "John," She started.
"Always," He repeated.
"Thank you," Y/N said.
...
John stepped into the hotel room, closing the door gently behind himself. His suit was splattered with blood, but he knew that it definitely wasn't his. John had taken care of Y/N's adversaries while she slept soundly in his bed. He wasn't proud of it, but he definitely made them suffer for what they had done to her.
John knew that she could've taken care of them herself eventually, but he hated the idea of her being injured like this again. John cleaned himself up and changed his clothes quietly, careful not to wake her up.
John disconnected the nearly empty bag of fluids from Y/N's IV and placed it into the trash can. John laid down in the bed beside her, leaving some space between them as he looked over at her. He knew that she'd be angry when she found out what he had done, but he had accepted it.
Helen said that she wanted him to care about something and he had finally found it.
Y/N deserved to have someone who cared about her and was willing to help her when she needed it. John allowed himself to fall asleep beside her, sinking into the mattress with a soft exhale.
John slept soundly for a few hours before suddenly waking up to the feeling of being wacked with a pillow. John squinted in the morning sunlight, looking up to see Y/N standing at the edge of the bed.
"You dosed me and killed my bounty, you ass," She said, smacking him with the pillow a second time.
"I'm sorry, I was just trying to help," John mumbled, sitting up in the bed.
"I didn't ask for your help," Y/N muttered, tossing the pillow onto the end of the bed.
Y/N rested her hand on her side, letting out an exhausted huff as she moved over to her bag. John watched her closely, "I didn't claim the reward," He stated.
"I know, but it was still my job," Y/N said, searching through her bag for a clean change of clothes.
John pushed back the blankets and flipped his legs over the edge of the bed, standing up and making his way over to her. Y/N didn't acknowledge him, continuing to rummage through her bag.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overstep... Will you let me take you to dinner tonight as an apology?" John questioned.
Y/N paused before looking up at him, "Are you asking me out?" She questioned.
"I am," John replied.
"Okay, I'll go on a date with you," Y/N said.
"I'll make a reservation," John stated.
"Good," Y/N nodded, picking up a change of clothes from her bag and making her way into the bathroom.
John smiled as the door closed behind her, this woman was definitely something special and he was lucky to have met her.
1970 Continental Mark III Cabriolet, a one-off built by Coach Builders Limited of High Springs, FL, builders of Mark VII and Mark VIII Cabriolets from 1984-92. The Mark III was built around 1992 when the shop had some down time between the Mark VIl and VIll transition. Phil G D Schaefer tried to buy it in '93 or '94 but they wouldn't sell, as the owner of the shop wanted to keep it for himself. Seen at the 2010 LCOC National Meet in Ocala, FL.
