"...how is it with her?
Doth she not think me an old murderer,
Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy
With blood removed but little from her own?
Where is she? and how doth she? and what says
My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love?"

"Blister'd be thy tongue
For such a wish! he was not born to shame:
Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit..."

Romeo, Act III Scene III

Juliet, Act III Scene II

Amanda couldn't breathe.

Frantically she scrabbled her fingers at her neck, trying to find the twisted metal of the bullet so that she could pluck it from her flesh.

Bandages.

The only reason that she couldn't breathe were the strips of flimsy gauze wrapped too tight around her neck.

Confused (dot com) Amanda looked around.

Adding to her confusion – who had fixed her neck, and why – she realised that she wasn't in 'the medical room' or, indeed, any other part of the warehouse she had – she only realised now – called home.

"I had to move you," A voice came from the shadows. Amanda scrambled to her feet, ready to scream, but as she tried to a dizzying burst of pain blew her mind to shreds, so she sat back down again. The man chuckled and continued. "The place is swarming with FBI and...doctors, perhaps..."

Hoffman, Amanda thought. She tried to ask about him, but the burst of pain was overwhelming.

Then she realised.

She couldn't speak.

The man must have noticed her agitation, because he seemingly allowed the shadows to pull apart from his face.

If Amanda had been able to speak a single syllable, it would've been a very, very shocked "YOU!"

"Hello Amanda." Said Doctor Lawrence Gordon with a wry smile.

She learnt a lot in the days that followed.

On the second day – after she'd grumpily got some rest after the bombshell that had been Lawrence Gordon – he explained to her why he was still around.

"John found me when I was crawling from the bathroom," He sighed deeply, staring into space and sipping from a mug of tea. How frigging English, Amanda thought. Pity he's AMERICAN...what the hell's wrong with coffee, I ask you? "It took me a while, but in the end he convinced me to stay and help him...set up his games." Amanda saw a flicker of disapproval in his light coloured eyes. "That was why he was out on the day you and Hoffman..."

At that Amanda – forgetting – tried to ask him again about Hoffman, but all that came out was her gasp as pain's teeth sank into her throat. Lawrence frowned, concerned; Amanda noticed that lines were already marring his face. This has taken so much out of him...She felt a pang of loss for his wife and child; they would never see him again, ever.

"You'd better get some rest, Amanda." Lawrence said sternly. He shook his head a fraction when she squeaked in protest. "Who's the doctor here, again?"

Amanda sighed exasperatedly and simply let him carry her back to her bed.

On the third day she found out she may never be able to talk again.

"The bullet broke the wall of your windpipe," He broke the news to her gently. "I managed to fix it in time, but...there's going to be some permanent scarring. I don't know how badly it's going to affect your talking – you can't do it now...and I'm afraid there's a good chance you'll never be able to again, if the scarring blocks off too much of your windpipe. You'll still be able to breathe, though!" He added quickly.

Amanda looked down at her hands, tears blurring her sight. All those words she wanted to say to Hoffman – 'sorry' being one of them – might never be said.

Lawrence leaned forward, noticing her distress. "You don't need to worry about Hoffman," He said softly, coolly. "He's a complete arsehole anyway, look at all the damage he's caused...I can get you out of this mess, but you've got to keep remembering that he caused all this. Forget about him; if I had my way I'd anonymously tip off the FBI on him; it's what he deserves..."

Amanda stood up so suddenly that her chair tipped over. She glared at him. How DARE he? It's not his fault, it never has been! She thought angrily.

Lawrence met her furious gaze. "Ok, ok." He said quietly. "I know you love him."

Amanda felt herself start to cry again. Lawrence stood up and wrapped his arms round her, just standing there, being there, while she sobbed her broken heart out.

On the fifth day Lawrence said that she could try to eat something. She chose chicken soup; apparently it was meant to be soothing. It hurt like hell, burning past her scars, but at least it took her mind off her other pains.

On the seventh day Lawrence took off the bandages. Amanda just stared into the mirror, stared at the ugly mass of scar tissue which clumped at her throat like a tumour. She felt the tears coming again.

"It will go down in time." Lawrence reminded her. "In the end hopefully you'll hardly see it, with a bit of concealer..."

But it didn't stop Amanda from wearing a scarf round her throat.

A deep red velvety mulberry; she liked that colour and its rich softness.

And then, seven days after that, Lawrence poked his head round the door of her 'bedroom'.

"He's here." He smiled slightly. "You should go to see him.

And she knew exactly who he meant by 'he'.

Hoffman hissed and pressed a hand to the side of his face; he'd just tried to say 'WHAT THE FUCK?' and gotten a ripping feeling from the side of his jaw that was stitched up.

"Congratulations, you are still alive." Someone said sarcastically. Turning his head to see whoever it was, his eyes widened.

"Yes, I am still alive," Lawrence snapped. "You're here because it isn't safe for you to go back yet. And, btw," He pointed at Hoffman's stitched up jaw. "Because of that you won't be talking for a while. Which in my opinion is an added plus. God knows why she still loves you..."

Hoffman glared at him, only comprehending what Lawrence was saying a few seconds after he'd actually finished.

She...?

It was...was it?

Lawrence took in his expression and smirked. "I'll go and get her." He got up and left, closing the door with a snick.

Hoffman's mind was whirling. Part of him was so ecstatic that Amanda was alive; it would give him a chance to...to...

And that was where the problems were. Did she really still love him or did she hate him for everything he'd done to her?

Still trying to figure out what Amanda's reaction would be, he heard a soft click from behind him.

The door had quietly been opened and closed; he slowly turned round.

The first thing that struck him was that she was so...thin. Here eyes seemed larger and darker in their sockets, and her skin was sale pale that the deep red scarf round her neck looked almost black.

Meeting his shocked gaze, Amanda slowly pulled off the scarf, revealing – for the first time – the extent of the damage.

Hoffman breathed in sharply.

Oh my God...

She moved over to him, and he stood, not making eye contact; there was no way she could ever like him for this, let alone love...

Amanda saw him look away from her and swallowed, bracing herself for the pain; she had been practising for this...

"Mark..." Her voice was rough and the pain split white lines over her vision, but she'd done it.

Hoffman finally met her gaze. It's difficult to explain what went on between them in that look, but somehow they both just knew what the other was trying to say.

But of course there were no words to be said – couldn't be said; sorry was one of them.

Hoffman gently covered the mass of scars with his hand, and tentatively Amanda placed her fingertips on his stitches. Then they wrapped their spare arms round each other; no kisses, just being there for each other.

Hoffman didn't realise that he was crying until he realised that Amanda was doing the same, the warm wetness rolling down the skin of his chest. He held her tighter, his own vision blurring as he ran his fingers over her scars and she did the same to his.

Everything was broken.

Her damaged neck, his damaged jaw, their damaged love.

But time was the best doctor there was (sorry, Lawrence); it could heal.

And that was the best either of them could hope for.

"...For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

Prince, Act V Scene III

THE END!!!

Sorry for the bits of randomness ( etc) I just felt like putting them in.

I know I completely missed out Act IV, but who the hell cares? Maybe you could give me better quotes I could've used.

Hope you enjoyed!!!!