The Last Thing

It was lunch break and everyone was excited to head to the cafeteria. Today's meal on the roaster was something everyone looked forward to.

She should have joined the rest of the team but she needed to use the bathroom.

Naomi hurried towards the bathroom on their floor, trying to hide just how pressed she was while working rather quickly. She has always had a terrible bladder and she knew damned well that holding it longer than necessary would only be detrimental.

She found an empty cubicle and did her business and sighed in relief. Now she can head for the cafeteria to join the rest of her team. By the time she made it out of the restroom, the entire floor was empty.

She strode towards the elevator,she needed to join the rest of her team at the cafeteria too. She pulled a stop at the caution sign right in front of the elevator. It wasn't working.

Just great!

Her only option was the stairs. She made her way towards the stairs and it was completely dark. The lights went off suddenly, much to her shock.

She pulled out her phone and turned her flashlight on but then she heard it. Footsteps behind her, soft at first, then sharper. She tried to turn, to see who it was, but her limbs felt slow and heavy.

A breath touched the back of her neck.

Then a shove.

She pitched forward, the concrete steps blurring past. Her own scream rose in her throat but never came out. She reached for the railing and missed.

****

Naomi jolted awake, her own gasp breaking the silence of the hospital room.

For a moment she didn’t know where she was. The white walls, the muted hum of machines, the faint sting of antiseptic…

It all came flooding in like a sensory overload. She forced her eyes open wider. The ceiling light was low and the monitor next to her continued to beep rapidly, mirroring her panic.

A warm hand was on her shoulder.

“Naomi.”

She turned her head and found Damon sitting on the edge of the bed, still in his dark shirt and slacks from the night before. His hair was mussed, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion.

But the way he leaned toward her, both hands now cupping her face, was steady and grounding.

“You’re safe,” he said quietly. “You’re here.”

Her heart thundered, and she realised she was trembling. “The stairs,” she whispered. “I was falling..”

“It was a nightmare.” He brushed a damp strand of hair from her forehead. “Just a nightmare.”

She gripped his wrist, needing the solid feel of him. “It felt so real. Like it was happening all over again.”

“I know.” His thumb stroked along her cheekbone. “But you’re not on those stairs now. You’re in a hospital bed, with me. You’re alive.”

Slowly her breathing steadied. The sound of the monitor behind her synced with the rhythm of Damon’s palm against her skin.

He gave a small, almost helpless sigh and pressed his forehead briefly to hers. “I should’ve been there,” he murmured. “I should’ve stopped it.”

Naomi drew back enough to see his face. In the dim light he looked older with a week-old beard on his face and the guilt in his eyes.

“Damon…”

“No,” he said softly. “Someone touched you, and they’ll regret it. I promise you.”

Before she could answer, the door opened with a quiet knock. A young doctor in a white coat stepped in, holding a tablet. Behind her, a nurse wheeled in a portable scanner.

“Mrs. Sinclair,” the doctor said brightly, as if trying to lighten the heavy air. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I need to do a quick check.”

Naomi pushed herself up against the pillows. Damon stayed close but moved enough to give the doctor room.

The exam was brisk but thorough. Blood pressure, reflex checks, a scan of her ribs and arm. Naomi answered each question mechanically.

“Still dizzy?”

“No.”

“Any new pain?”

“No.”

She’d been able to eat the soup the nurse left earlier in the day without wincing. The doctor smiled at the end, making a note on her tablet.

“That's good.” she said. “Your scans look clean. You still have a few minor fractures and I scheduled a surgery for later this week. Severe bruising and a mild concussion. With rest, you’ll be back to normal soon. I’d like to keep you for observation for a week, but after that, we should be able to discharge you.”

Naomi nodded. “Thank you.”

Damon’s voice was polite but tight. “Anything we should watch for?”

“Light sensitivity, nausea, confusion…normal concussion symptoms,” the doctor replied. “If anything worsens, press the call button. But otherwise, she’s healing well.”

The nurse collected her things, and the doctor smiled again at Naomi. “Try to sleep, Mrs. Sinclair. Your body needs it.”

When they left, the room settled into a hush again. Outside the window, dawn was smudging pale pink across the city skyline.

Naomi let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. “A week,” she said. “It feels like forever.”

Damon eased back onto the bed beside her, careful of her IV line. “You’re staying until you’re stronger,” he said. “No arguments.”

She looked at him, really looked at him; his shirt rumpled, his tie gone, his eyes rimmed red. “You didn’t sleep.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t want to.”

Naomi reached out, fingers brushing his sleeve. “You can’t stay awake for a week straight. You’ll collapse.”

His hand covered hers, warm and firm. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

Something in his voice made her throat tighten. “Damon… whoever did this…”

“I’ll find them.” His gaze was unwavering. “Patrick’s already digging. We’ll know soon.”

“What if it was an accident?” Her voice cracked. “What if it was a mistake?”

He hesitated a fraction, and she saw it. “Then,” he said slowly, “I’ll still find them.”

She pressed her lips together. “Damon…”

“I don't care if it was a mistake. I'll find who did this and make them beg you on their knees..”

Her eyes scanned his, he was serious and there was no going back from that.

Naomi looked down at their joined hands. “I’m scared, Damon.”

He shifted closer until his arm was around her shoulders, careful of her sling, drawing her against his chest. “I know,” he murmured into her hair. “I’m right here.”

She let herself lean into him. His heartbeat was solid under her ear, a steady drum against the chaos of her thoughts.

“Please…don't do anything that crazy. When you find who did this.” she said softly.

He tilted her chin up with two fingers. “I'm not making promises.”

She stared at him, unable to say a single word. Even though he didn't admit it, he was terrified and the man in front of her was brewing with revenge.

His eyes darkened. “You’re not wrong.” he said, almost like he could read her mind.

That should have frightened her, but instead it steadied her. She touched his jaw, rough with stubble. “I don’t want you to do anything that destroys you,” she whispered.

He caught her hand and pressed it to his lips. “I’ll do what I have to. But listen to me, Naomi.” His voice dropped, low and fierce. “I will keep you safe. Even if it’s the last thing I do.”

Her breath caught. “Damon…”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead to hers again. “You’re my life,” he said. “I will never forgive myself if anything happens to you.”

She closed her eyes, absorbing the words. “Then promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t shut me out,” she whispered. “Don’t fight this without telling me.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded once. “I promise.”

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other and the quiet pulse of machines. The dawn outside strengthened, spilling gold across the sheets.

Naomi shifted enough to look at him again. “Do you think they’ll try again?”

His jaw worked. “Not if I get to them first.”

“I don’t want revenge,” she said softly. “I just want to go home.”

He smoothed a hand over her hair. “You will.”

“Will you stay with me today?” she asked.

“As long as you want.”

A faint smile curved her mouth. “Even when I’m grumpy?”

“Especially then,” he said, and for the first time since the nightmare, she laughed, a small, shaky sound but real.

He kissed her temple. “Rest now.”

She settled back against the pillows, still holding his hand. Her eyelids felt heavy but the terror had left, replaced by a fragile sense of safety.

Damon watched her until her breathing slowed and evened out, his thumb tracing small circles on her palm.

He looked out the window once, at the city waking below, then back at her face. She murmured something in her sleep and tightened her grip on his hand.

Even if it’s the last thing I do, he thought again.