Well, I did it... kinda... sorta...

Sure, better half of the world already has the 20th, but hey, the west coast and Alaska don't, so I'll take it as a partial victory.

So, my epilogue, I hope you guys will enjoy it.

Epilogue: Meeting half-way

She woke up to the steady, measured beeping of a heart monitor. With the last bits of sleep-drugs and painkillers slowly flowing in her system Anderson's eyes fluttered open.

She was greeted by an off-white wall in her hospital room, though such term may have been too generous. Her accommodation was small to the point where the hospital bed had to be standing diagonally to even fit, and even then some of the metal framework looked suspiciously bent. The tiny space was illuminated by one naked light bulb at the end of its rope, the light wavering between normal brightness and faint yellow glow.

What space wasn't filled by the bed was occupied by an IV stand and a heart monitor, a clip-board balancing atop of it. Anderson took a deep breath, registering just the slightest pressure in her chest and rolled over to her side. She reached for the clip-board and her fingers nudged it, sending it clattering to the floor.

Anderson huffed in irritation and drummed her fingers against the bed frame. She sunk back into coarse sheets, shielding her eyes with an arm. Apart from the monitoring machinery the only sound in the room was her own breathing, echoing in the confined space with stifling intensity. Her mind's eye conjured the image of the already claustrophobic room shrinking further, the air slowly escaping through the crack under the door.

Her eyes shot open, banishing the image. With a few more raspy breaths Anderson untangled her limbs from sheets and pulled herself into a sitting position. Letting her legs dangle off of the edge of the bed while she waited for her the black spots before her eyes to stop dancing in sync with the darkening light bulb.

Anderson slipped down from the bed, her legs buckling under her own weight, sending her crashing on her hands and knees. For a while she remained that way and breathed deeply, letting the shock of impact jar her muscles awake. A shrill continuous tone echoed in the tiny room as the heart monitor piece clipped to Anderson's finger slipped off. Something warm was dripping down her arm and when she looked, she saw that the IV catheter was ripped from her left arm. With a curse the Judge wiped down the blood on her hospital gown and pressed her lips to the leaking spot to prevent bleeding all over herself.

With the taste of blood in her mouth Anderson zeroed in on the fallen clip-board and began to reach for it when something else caught her eye.

A black travel bag was stashed under her hospital bed. Anderson reached after the strap and pulled the bag out. After unzipping it she found it filled with spare clothes, necessities like keys to her apartment, wallet and Anderson's badge, and a get well card decorated with cartoon bunnies and carrots. There were two people Anderson could think of that would bother bringing her things to the hospital, but only one would get her a card as well. With a smile Anderson read the generic printed get well message, amused by Ruby's own renditions of googly-eyed carrots and other vegetables scribbled here and there on the card.

After setting the card down beside her, Anderson clumsily stripped the hospital gown and changed into the brought clothes. Ruby was apparently talented in digging out Anderson's cringiest and simultaneously the most comfortable pieces and she ended up dressed in pink plush pyjama pants, a simple black tank top and a black hoodie with cat ears that she had bought from her first paycheck as a Judge.

Still smiling Anderson finally reached for the fallen clip-board. She settle cross-legged with her back to the wall, not that it was very far from the bed, and skimmed through it. She noticed the day of her admission and realised that she had actually no idea how long she had spent in the hospital. Luckily besides her flat-lining stats the screeching heart monitor also displayed the time and date and Anderson came to learn that she had spent nearly twenty days unconscious.

That actually sent a shiver down her spine. Never before had she spent this long in an unconscious state, even when she had her throat slit she was up on the next day. To be out for nearly three weeks suggested that something went seriously wrong.

Anderson's eyes lowered back to the clip-board, particularly the list of injuries she came with. Normally it was a mostly empty column with few lines of medical terms. This time, the writing filled the entirety of the column and then continued beyond the borders of it, filling every blank space on the page, only to end in an asterisk and an arrow pointing to the other side of the paper where the last quarter-page of Anderson's injuries was catalogued.

With a sense of unease welling up inside her Anderson began reading. Fractured orbita, hyphema, fractured skull, cerebral haemorrhage, right-side pneumothorax, splenic rupture, hepatic rupture...

Anderson put down the clip-board. With a track record like this she wasn't sure whether she should thank the doctors for performing an impossible feat, or find the nearest woodoo priest and ask him about a brain-only diet.

The door to her room burst open. A disheveled looking nurse came charging in, armed with a rebreather mask and an array of syringes. Her first look was to the bed, her eyes widening as she noticed the lack of patient. Another pair of boots could be heard from a distance.

Anderson cleared her throat and raised her and in a greeting. "Hi." she peeped, her voice hoarse and cracking after the weeks of disuse.

The nurse's gaze dropped to the Judge sitting on the floor, her face shifting into an expression of exasperated disbelief. "You're awake?" she panted and rapidly closed the short distance between them, bending over Anderson and starting to asses her state.

With a slight shrug Anderson nodded. "I'm good. Can you please turn that thing off?" she waved the nurse off and gestured towards the still screeching heart monitor. Something, or rather someone, slammed against the doorframe in a failed attempt at braking and then stayed standing there.

The nurse's bent-over form obscured the newcomer as she hurriedly performed the basic examination of her patient before straightening up and stopping the incessant noise with few quick jabs against the monitor's touch screen. "Ihavetoruntherewasamassivecarcrashtonsofinjured." the nurse blurted and bolted off without waiting for Anderson's response, shoulder banging against the other person standing in the door.

Anderson's heart leapt into her throat. With her arm was still in an awkward half-raised state she gave a small wave and even though she wanted it to, her mouth wouldn't form a smile.

Dredd didn't react. He stood completely still as if frozen solid. What was visible of his face under the helmet was pulled into the standard scowl. After a moment of stunned silence he moved stiffly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. "You're awake." he clipped, his voice overly cold, bordering on hostile.

Anderson couldn't entirely suppress an almost imperceptible flinch. "Well, you sound happy about that." she commented, hoping that the obvious sarcasm would sufficiently cover the mixture of confusion and hurt she felt at Dredd's strange choice of tone.

His hands came up to remove his helmet, setting it at the end of Anderson's bed. He leaned against the wall, letting his head fall back, his tense posture relaxing ever so slightly. "You could have given me a little more time to think." he said, closing his eyes.

Anderson's brow furrowed. "About wha-" she started, but stopped abruptly as her memory filled in the answer. She shifted uncomfortably, biting her lip. "I guess it's a little late to tell to you to forget the whole thing?" she asked, running a hand through her hair.

Dredd's face was an unreadable mask. "Do you want me to?" he asked without even the slightest vocal inflection.

"No." It was a word spoken quietly, but decisively. Anderson inhaled sharply, taken aback by how easily it slipped from her lips. And by how little she minded.

Dredd remained in the same position, his body language not disclosing any emotion. If Anderson wanted, she could have convinced herself that he hadn't even heard her. Her fingers curled into fists, knuckles white as she waited for Dredd's reaction, any reaction at all. But nothing like that seemed to be coming, their breathing the only sound filling the tiny room.

Unable to take the stifling atmosphere any longer Anderson decided to run. She reached into the travel bag and retrieved her wallet. "Well, I'm getting coffee. So, you have like three more minutes." she smiled weakly and stood up, using the bedframe as a support. On unsteady legs she brushed past Dredd, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of him.

She slipped into the corridor, the blinding light of functioning halogen stabbing into her retinas. She looked around, noting that she should probably be grateful for at least getting a room, albeit a small one. Beds, some empty, but most occupied lined the sides of the corridor, patients sleeping or chatting with each other or the nurses. Anderson located the nearest coffee automat, slowly making her way towards it, partially due to the weakness in her limbs and partially because she herself needed time to think.

Relaying her feelings to Dredd seemed like a bad idea even when half-delirious from the loss of blood. But then she really thought she was dying, and the action didn't seem to carry that much weight. Sure, it would leave Dredd to sift through her emotional mess and try to make some sense of it, but he would have ample time to do so. The fact that she survived probably made it into more of a pressing matter.

Cursing under her breath Anderson came to stand before a coffee automat. She fed it a bank note and selected a variant that seemed the most ingestible. The smell of coffee, strong, bitter and strangely comforting rose to the air. The Judge took the hot plastic cup into her hand, warmth seeping into her fingers. Her other hand hovered above the touch-screen that was asking whether she wanted change back. Breathing in the smell of coffee Anderson made her choice. With a cup in each hand she returned to her room.

Dredd watched her out of a corner of his eyes, his face remaining impassive as Anderson stepped towards him and extended one hand. His eyes fell to the coffee and Anderson could have sworn that some of the tension in his shoulders disappeared. He took the offered cup, fingers brushing against Anderson's, and gave a slight nod in return.

Anderson settled at the end of her bed, Dredd's helmet pressing against her thigh. She sipped her coffee and burned her tongue, but didn't mind, the sensation providing convenient distraction. She took a breath and then another sip. Her hand dipped and brushed against the helmet, absent-mindedly tracing the nicks and scratches in the cool metal. For a while they stayed like that, lost in their thoughts.

"You're quiet."

Anderson jumped, startled by the sudden sound of Dredd's voice. He was looking at the ground and Anderson couldn't help the stab of numb pain in her heart. "I said what I needed. It's your turn." she shrugged, fidgeting with the almost empty coffee cup.

He nodded solemnly. Again they returned to silence, but only for a moment. "I shot you. Without hesitation." Dredd said and sounded exhausted. His fingers closed around the empty cup of coffee in his hand, crushing it.

A small smile graced Anderson's lips. "I can believe that." she admitted. She set her coffee down next to the helmet and slid down from the bed. In the tiny room she needed only a step to be in Dredd's personal space, feeling his warmth again. She pressed a hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat, her eyes fixed on his face. "But you could have hit Bob's head through mine, or gone for his heart. You barely grazed him. Why?"

The mangled piece of plastic fell to the floor. Tentatively Dredd's hand came up to Anderson's face, cupping her cheek, thumb running over her lips. At last he met her eyes and Anderson saw something she never expected. Surrender. "You realise this will leave you hurt?" he asked.

She chuckled without actual humour in it. "I have a job that will leave me dead. I still find value in it." she shrugged, her hand finding his, entwining their fingers together.

One corner of Dredd's mouth lifted into a wry smile. "You really have no sense of self-preservation." he commented, tracing the scar across her throat.

Anderson moved the hand braced against his chest and wrapped it around his neck, allowing her body to press flush against his. "That's good. Neither do you." she breathed against his skin.

She brought he face closer to his and he met her half-way.

END

Aaand that's it.

Now that we're here, I'm not sure what to say.

I guess, first of all, thank you all. All you who commented, followed, or just read to the end, I thank you all sticking with this story through all the late updates, very apparent learning curve (seriously, how did you guys get through the first chapters ?). The fact that I was able to create something people enjoy is one of my greatest achievements and it had helped me through some stuff, so thank you for that also.

Okay, my shriveled black heart is starting to feel something, that can't be good. I better stop.

So, again, thank you. And I hope we will see each other again, whether in this fandom or some other.

With regards,

Rhinne, the Avatar of Procrastination