The bullet hit with precision just underneath her collarbone. He didn't know that she had been hit until her eyes grew wide and the smile slipped off of her face. She lightly pressed her fingers to the wound and then met his gaze.
He caught her before she hit the pavement. Another round flew through the air, but he had already moved them behind the cover of the charger. His eyes scanned the area and he saw the sniper on a nearby rooftop.
He took his gun out and emptied the clip on the man, but he was too far away and could only watch helplessly as he escaped.
That bullet was meant for him. He knew it was. If Fi hadn't moved in front of him at the last minute to dance with him, he'd be the one with the blood seeping out of him.
She didn't yell when he pushed his palm into the wound, only flinched.
"Hang on Fi. I'm calling an ambulance."
He dialed the numbers and talked to an operator briefly.
"What do you mean you can't get here for another fifteen minutes?" he roared. "Backed up? These aren't UPS vans, they're ambulances!" he looked down at the blood. She didn't have fifteen minutes. "No I won't hold!"
He hung up and held onto her more securely. "We have to get you to the hospital-"
"We both know I don't have that long," she coughed. "Hit an artery."
"I'll drive fast."
She shook her head. "No sense in bleeding on the seats."
He frowned and brushed some of her hair out of her face.
"Come on," she wheezed with a lopsided grin. "That was a funny joke."
He put a hand on her cheek, ignoring her attempt to lighten the mood. "I'm sorry Fi. That was meant for me."
"My fault for wanting a dance. It's been fun, Michael."
"Just hang on until the ambulance can get here. They should be coming soon."
"Soon isn't soon enough."
"Don't do that. Don't act like this is it. The Fiona I know fights."
She shook her head with glossy eyes. They both knew that there was too much blood. He clung to her fearfully. He didn't want to lose her. "Fi…I…" he couldn't find the words, so he kissed her instead.
She closed her eyes and stopped breathing. He held her against his chest, leaning his forehead against hers. The sirens howled in the distance, but not soon enough.
Michael sat up with a start. He looked around his loft struggling to control his ragged breathing. He reached out and grabbed his cell phone, waiting nervously to hear the voice on the other end of the line.
"Fi?" he asked quietly.
"Michael? Do you know what time it is?" she grumbled sleepily.
"Are you okay?"
"I was more than okay. I was dreaming about explosions, semi-automatic weapons, and amazingly hot guys in little shorts serving me drinks. Then you called. What is this about? Is something wrong?"
He took a deep breath. It was all just a dream.
"Michael? Are you still there?"
"Yeah. No. Everything is fine. Go back to sleep."
"Are you sure? You're acting strange."
"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow."
"I'll see you then."
He hung up and gripped the phone tightly. "Sweet dreams, Fi."
He knew that he could get her killed. He almost had more than once. That's why he wanted back in. If he was far away, she could be safe. He could take the bullet meant for him.
There's nowhere he'd rather be than with her, nowhere he'd rather die than in her arms. But for her sake, he knew that he couldn't.