Darren woke to the sound of footsteps in the hallway outside his room. As he was in a private home, he knew he was safe. That didn't stop him from instinctively reaching for his gun. The one he didn't have, of course. It was still under the mattress in the bedroom at the house—or so he hoped.
Since he was awake, he very carefully sat up, definitely favoring his right side, which was heavily bandaged. He touched his head, feeling bandages there as well. Moving slowly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, fighting off a wave of dizziness.
"Get it together," he muttered in disgust. "There's no way I'm going to stick around here any longer than necessary so…" He started to the bathroom, forcing his body to take the movements in stride. Yeah, the wound in his side and the resultant fractured rib weren't too happy about that, but his head felt fine.
He came out of the bathroom a few minutes later to find Olivia standing in the middle of the room, arms akimbo. She turned to look at him, almost snarling, "Why the hell are you up and moving without waiting for me to help you?"
"Because I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself," Darren replied acidly.
"In case you haven't noticed, it's only been a day and a half since you were shot. By rights, you shouldn't even be able to do anything more than sit up, if that, on your own. And here I find you wandering around…" She shook her head.
"Going to the john is hardly 'wandering', boss lady." He reached the bed and sat, doing his best to hide the fact he needed to. He must have succeeded, since she didn't say anything.
"How are you feeling?" Olivia asked.
"I've been better, but I've been a whole lot worse too. I should be ready to get out of here in…say…twenty minutes. I figure it'll take that long for you to being me my jeans and find a shirt—and hopefully shoes that will fit me."
"You're out of your fucking mind."
"And?" Darren grinned. "This is news?"
"No." She sighed. "Darren, please think about it? Someone wants you dead and you're in no shape to defend yourself if they try again."
"I'm aware of that. I don't plan on walking down the middle of Colfax saying 'Come and get me'." He changed the subject abruptly, asking, "Did Micky's body turn up in the morgue?"
"No. Or at least there isn't one that matches your description of him. I have feelers out, but so far he seems to have vanished. No one at the bar where you met him even remembers him."
"Yeah, well it was crowded, so that's not too surprising. Hopefully, if asked, they wouldn't remember me either."
She chuckled. "They didn't, but then you're good at being a nonentity."
"My stock in trade. When is the doc supposed to check up on me again? And what time is it?"
"Just going on nine," she replied after checking her watch. "And he isn't going to unless I call him."
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