If You Shed A Tear

Pain.

That was the first thing she felt when she woke up.

Everywhere.

Specifically, her knees. A sharp pain tore through her legs and made it all the way up to her abdomen. She assumed it was the hammer that split her kneecaps.

Ilsa also had a killer headache from a combination of dehydration, the large cut on her forehead and the tight bandage they had wrapped around her head. Her severe concussion made it difficult for her to get her bearings and figure out where she was.

All she could really take in at the moment was she was in a white room, a slow steady beeping on the heart monitor behind her, and large TV hung from a wall in front of her. A light blue curtain hung to her left, dividing the room in half. She assumed there was someone on the other side. It seemed to her that it was are large, well-funded hospital. To her right was a large window overlooking a grey city.

London, to be exact. Ilsa started to search her memory trying to remember what the hell happened. She remembered a darkened, relatively empty room sitting across from her husband and an orange haired man by the name of Otion. It was all hazy, though, the specifics for for another day she decided.
The other thing she remembered was the emense amount of pain she had gone through in that room. She remembered that he had shattered one of her kneecaps but when she had woken up, she could feel that both broken. She didn't remember much after that. Hazely she remembered Will carrying her out of the room, after that it was all gone. She didn't even know what day was. All she knew was that she was in a hospital, in London, and everything hurt.

All the thinking had tired her out, she layed back on her pillow and closed her eyes. The white, hospital lights had started to bother her, like they were brighter than normal.

Then Hunt popped into her mind, What in the hell happened to him?! Where was he? Was he even still alive? Had he gotten out of the room? He had to have, their team wouldn't stop looking.

Ilsa started to get nervous about him, she had a strong inclination that he was alive in this hospital, but there was a small, scary voice in the back of her mind that told her otherwise.
It always made her sick when he was away on Missions and she didn't know where he was, who he was after, or even if he was alive. And now, laying in a hospital bed with a mountain of ace bandage wrap and brace on her legs, it wasn't helping her situation.

She did her damn best to stay positive.

Ethan has to be okay, that man is unkillable. He won't go down in a small way. Hunts don't die.

The tiny, incredibly pessimistic voice started to grow stronger.

What if he did die of his injuries? What if he didn't even make it out of the room?

The stress started to build up in her. 
A small noise came from the curtain, dividing the room. Slowly Ilsa looked towards the noise, pulling open her eyes.

The doctor smiled at Ilsa. A tall, Iranian woman, strong build, young too, most likely an intern.

"Hello Mrs. Hunt, how are you?"

"I'm," Ilsa winced, it hurt a surprising amount to talk. "In alot of pain."

"I know, you are going to feel lousy for a few days, but I'm going to increase your pain meds."