The police officer's radio crackled as he stepped into the apartment.
Noah stood from the armchair; Elliot didn't move from the sofa at first, he looked hollow, unfocused, like someone who had fallen out of himself. It wasn't until the officer cleared his throat that Elliot finally lifted his head.
"Are you here about our neighbour?" Noah asked.
"We got a call about a welfare concern," the older officer replied, pulling out a small notebook. "You said she hasn't been seen since early this morning?"
Noah nodded. "Valentina Newman. Mid-twenties. Petite. Platinum-blonde hair. Blue eyes. Three piercings on her left ear and one in her nose. She —"
The officer froze. His partner looked up from the tablet in his hands.
Elliot felt it instantly; an electric shift in the air. His stomach dropped.
"Sir?" Noah asked. "What is it?"
The older cop exchanged a look with his partner before speaking gently.
"There was an accident early this morning. Just after six. A pedestrian struck by a delivery truck two streets east of here." He hesitated, grimacing. "The woman didn't have ID on her. But… she fits the description you just gave."
Elliot shot to his feet so quickly the coffee table rattled.
"What kind of accident? Is she alright? Where is she?"
The younger officer lifted the tablet, scrolling. "She's alive. Unconscious when paramedics reached her. She's stable. Some cuts and bruising, couple of suspected rib injuries; nothing life-threatening."
Elliot let out a sound that was half-breath, half-sob; quiet, shaky relief pouring out of him in one tremor.
Noah put a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. "Okay. Okay, that's good. We'll go see her —"
Elliot stepped away, already crossing the room. "I need my headphones."
He grabbed them from his desk and slung them around his neck like armour.
Noah watched him carefully. "Elliot… are you sure you want to go to the hospital? You don't have to —"
"I'm going," Elliot said, soft but solid. "I'll be fine. I'll be more fine once I see Val."
He didn't wait for further discussion.
Noah nodded at the officers. "We'll go with you."
The hallway felt too narrow, the elevator too slow, the lobby too bright. Elliot stayed close behind Noah, staring straight ahead as though if he blinked she would disappear again.
In the back of the police car, he sat rigid, fingers clenched tightly around the strap of his headphones. He didn't speak; he just breathed in shallow, fragile breaths, the city rushing past the window in a blur.
Noah glanced at him every few seconds, worry etched across his face.
The hospital came into view: white, sterile, immense.
Elliot's grip tightened.
He didn't know what waited behind those doors.
But for the first time since knocking on her door that morning, he knew where he needed to be.
And he wasn't leaving until he saw her.
Hospitals always smelled the same; sterile and sharp, like disinfectant clinging to the back of the throat. Elliot felt it hit him the moment they stepped inside. The sliding doors parted with a hiss, letting in the hum of voices, the squeak of rubber soles on polished floors, the distant rattle of a gurney being pushed somewhere out of sight.
There were people everywhere; nurses in blue scrubs drifting past with clipboards, a doctor speaking quickly into a phone, a tired mother cradling a crying child near the reception desk. A vending machine buzzed loudly in the corner. Someone coughed. A printer spat out forms.
It was too much sound, too much motion.
Elliot flinched at each new noise, shoulders tightening, but he kept following the officers, one step after the other. His fingers dug into the sides of his headphones, needing the familiar pressure to keep himself from shaking.
Noah stayed close, guiding him gently by the elbow when he nearly walked into a nurse's trolley.
They reached a quieter corridor, the lights were dimmer, voices were hushed. A sign read Observation Unit
One of the police officers spoke to a nurse, then gestured.
"This way."
Elliot's heartbeat roared in his ears.
The officer pushed open a door.
Inside, the room was small, softly lit, and too still.
Val lay on the bed, dwarfed by white sheets. Bandages wrapped both her hands. Scratches marked her cheekbones, her forehead, the line of her jaw, thin, angry lines against pale skin. A bruise bloomed across her temple, already darkening.
An IV line trailed into her arm.
A heart monitor beeped steadily at her side, green light pulsing in a calm rhythm Elliot instantly clung to.
She was alive.
She was here.
Elliot froze in the doorway, then the emotions hit him all at once, sharp and overwhelming. His chest cracked open. His breath stuttered.
He didn't understand it. Why it hurt so much to see her like this. Why his relief came in the form of tears spilling uncontrollably down his cheeks.
But he stepped inside, legs trembling, and sat down in the chair beside her bed as though his body knew where it needed to be even if his mind didn't.
He didn't move after that.
Didn't blink.
Barely breathed.
He just stared at her, tears dripping off his chin, falling silently onto his shirt.
Behind him, the officers finished their notes and spoke softly to Noah. Papers shuffled. A pen clicked closed. Footsteps retreated.
The door shut, and then there was only Noah and Elliot and the soft, steady beeping of Val's heart monitor.
Noah crouched beside him. "Elliot… do you need anything? Water? Food? You haven't eaten at all today."
Elliot gave the slightest shake of his head. He didn't look away from Val, not even for a second.
His mind drifted without permission; to metal crumpling, to flashing lights, to the memory of being in an accident and standing in a hospital very much like this one, hearing words that shattered his entire world.
I'm so sorry. There was nothing we could do.
He squeezed his eyes shut as another wave of tears broke free. He didn't want to cry. He wasn't even sure why he was crying, but the fear was a living thing in his chest.
He'd almost lost her.
Just like that.
Just like them.
Noah didn't say anything else. He just stood, grabbed another chair, and settled beside Elliot. He opened his laptop and worked silently, typing in soft, unobtrusive clicks. He didn't try to pull Elliot away or distract him.
He just stayed.
The hours drifted. Afternoon light dimmed into evening. Nurses came and went, checking Val's vitals, adjusting her blankets. Elliot didn't move. Not once. His fingers curled around the armrest, his eyes fixed on her face, memorising every rise and fall of her breath.
At around eight, Val's eyelashes fluttered.
She inhaled sharply.
Elliot sat up straighter, breath catching.
Her eyes opened; a slow, confused blink as she looked at the ceiling, then around at the room, then...
... at him.
The heart monitor continued its steady, gentle beep, but everything else in Elliot's world went silent.
She was awake.
She was alive.
And she was looking right at him.