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Chapter 19 by micdan282 micdan282

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Waking Up

When Nightingale’s consciousness slowly returned, it felt like waking from a deep, disorienting sleep. For a moment, her mind struggled to piece together the fragmented images of the night, the fall, Rogue Knight, the crushing blows and then... nothing. She tried to move, but her body felt heavy, unresponsive. A sharp ache pulsed through her side, making her wince.

The smell of antiseptic and faint beeping noises filtered into her awareness.

She was in hospital.

Cool sheets clung to her skin, and the sterile white of the ceiling came into view as her eyes fluttered open. A heart monitor beeped steadily beside her. An IV was taped to her arm. Her entire body felt like it had been through a shredder. She shifted, and pain lit up her side like a flare.

Panic surged but before she could fully spiral, a familiar figure stood up from the plastic chair in the corner of the room. Detective Thatcher. His face was drawn, jaw set tight. He looked like he hadn’t slept.

“You’re awake,” he said, voice low but steady.

Rikki blinked up at him, still groggy. “What… happened?”

“You were thrown off a parking garage,” he said bluntly. “Into a pile of garbage. Cracked ribs, concussion, busted shoulder. You were lucky I was already on my way.”

“You… you brought me here?”

“Yeah. You were **** and I had no idea how bad your injures were.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I gave them a fake name and said you were found beaten and naked. It bought us enough time for them to treat you without asking too many questions.”

Her heart skipped in her chest. The shock hit her like a fist to the gut and she reached up to feel where her mask should be. The smooth surface of her skin met her fingertips and for a moment, the reality of the situation settled in.

He knows.

"You…" Her voice faltered as she tried to process it all. "You know who I am."

"Yeah," Thatcher said. His expression softened slightly. "Rikki Drakeson, parole officer."

Nightingale clenched her fists, unsure of what to feel. Fear, anger and relief twisted within her. On one hand, her secret identity had been exposed, the thing she’d guarded so fiercely. But on the other hand, it was Thatcher. He was different. He wasn’t some criminal or stranger, he was a detective, someone who respected the law and a friend.

"So, what now?" she asked, her voice low. She couldn’t decide whether to feel **** or grateful.

"I’m not going to tell anyone," he assured her, his gaze steady. "That’s not what I do. Besides, you’re still one of the good ones." He softened his tone. "But you need to rest. Your body’s a wreck, and you’re not going to heal if you don’t take it easy."

Nightingale swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. Despite his kindness Rikki felt embarrassed about what had happened to her.

"Thank you.”

“Is there someone I can call? Someone I should let know you’re still alive?” He asked. Rikki just shook her head, starring at the wall.

“Then I guess I better let the captain know I won’t be coming in today.” He smiled as he sat back down in the seat next to her.

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