LOG: Axel/Sarah, post-movie.
When you're sheriff in a little town like Harmony, visits to the hospital are second only to the police station itself. Third is home if you're lucky, or if it's been an exceptionally slow day busting small-time crooks and the odd wife beater. Unless you get a slug in the chest, you'd never even entertain the notion that one day you'd be the one to wind up in the hospital bed surrounded by heart monitors and IVs, but today marked the end of Axel Palmer's lucky streak.
He'd been on the force for damn near a decade and never suffered more than a few sloppy punches from drunken truck drivers as they were passing through the town, and he rarely got sick enough to warrant an appointment at the clinic. But once you got the sharpened end of a pickaxe in your gut, all bets were off in terms of whether or not you needed medical attention.
"How long have I been out?" he asked the nurse at his bedside as she scribbled something down on her clipboard. His voice was hoarse and worn thin -- it had been a very long night.
Without looking at him, she answered, "Since this morning."
"Shit. Great," he groaned, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. The corners of the woman's mouth turned up in a wry smile.
"Don't take it too hard, Sheriff. You needed the rest." Patting his forearm, she twirled on her heel and headed for the door. With some difficulty, Axel hefted himself into a sitting position, brow wrinkling as the wound in his stomach burned in protest of the movement.
"Is my wife here?"
He'd been on the force for damn near a decade and never suffered more than a few sloppy punches from drunken truck drivers as they were passing through the town, and he rarely got sick enough to warrant an appointment at the clinic. But once you got the sharpened end of a pickaxe in your gut, all bets were off in terms of whether or not you needed medical attention.
"How long have I been out?" he asked the nurse at his bedside as she scribbled something down on her clipboard. His voice was hoarse and worn thin -- it had been a very long night.
Without looking at him, she answered, "Since this morning."
"Shit. Great," he groaned, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. The corners of the woman's mouth turned up in a wry smile.
"Don't take it too hard, Sheriff. You needed the rest." Patting his forearm, she twirled on her heel and headed for the door. With some difficulty, Axel hefted himself into a sitting position, brow wrinkling as the wound in his stomach burned in protest of the movement.
"Is my wife here?"