PROLOGUE

        He would always remember her as she was. Angie. Angela. Ange. He had said her name so many times. He had never really heard her name though, not until now, not until the priest said it, his voice strong for those around him. His voice giving hope to the crowd, the crowd with heads bowed, silent, as tears welled up and spilled over lashes. Rollie Tyler held back his own tears as he remembered. He remembered how strong she was, how determined. He remembered the pain, and the anger, the hope and the fear.

        It was so... gray. Everything was gray. Gray and blurry. She wanted to rub her eyes. Her arms... something was wrong. Her arms wouldn't work. She wanted to scream, all that came out was a garbled whisper.
        Something moved.
        "Ms. Ramirez?"
        It wasn't gray any more. Harsh, bright light (off, turn it off) filled her vision.
        "Thank god. I'll get the doctor." A stiff, white form blazed passed.
        "Ms. Ramirez. Glad to have you back you had us worried for a moment."
        The light was dimmed, but another was soon flashed back and forth. Back and forth. "Don't talk. You are on a respirator. Do you know what that is? It helps  you to breath. I'll remove it when your ready. Don't worry. You are at St. Vincent. You have been in a coma for the past two weeks."
        Angie tried to raise her arm.
        "No.. no you can't do that. You're right arm is broken, your left has been restrained for now, can't have you pulling out all those leads can we?"  Angie wanted to talk. She needed....
        "Uh-uh don't tal..."

        Rollie Tyler paced for the umpteenth time. Bluey barked.
        "Shut up!" Rollie spun around and glared and the electronic animal.
        "Sorry... sorry" Rollie raked his hand through his hair. "Damn it" He stamped towards the drying machine, no longer caring if he wore a wet {"at least its white.."} shirt. The nurse had kicked him out again, she had told him;
        "Mr. Tyler, we have to change the sheets and her dressings. You can't be here now. It should take a good hour, go home and take a shower. Get something to eat too, I don't need to be taking care of two FX artists."
        Rollie had left only after being repeatedly told that he would be called if anything happened. As he was about to open the dryer it let out a squeal, Rollie reached in, grabbed a warm shirt and slipped into it. He was about to close the dryer door when his phone rang. For a moment, fear gripped his heart.
        "Tyler.." Color flushed his cheeks.
 
 

        Exhausted was not the word for it. Angie had never felt this tired in her entire life. Never. The doctors had been poking and prodding her for the past hour. Angie looked out the window, it was a rather dismal day, rain coated the windows and lightening flashed. Angie then glanced at the door. Rollie was going to arrive. They had told her. Would he be angry with her? He should be, it was all her fault; she had stepped back when the second blast was to go off! She had been scared... scared and stupid. Rollie probably didn't want to even speak to her. She had ruined the shot, and she got injured in the process. Stupid. Damn stupid.

        The windshield wipers flicked. Rollie stared stone faced, his knuckles white from the force of tight hands on the steering wheel. Whatever would she say? How would she react? Would she react? Would she even speak to him, look in his eyes? It was all his fault. He had placed her in a horrendously dangerous situation. He had shrugged off her fears, sending her up the beam, up to what might have been her death {what could still be her death}. Rollie shifted his weight, rubbed his eyes. He had wanted to make the blast "bigger and better" so, he had tricked with it. He never even TESTED it!! Why? Why did he always have to have things bigger and better? Why did he have to send her up their? Why? He could have killed her {still could}. He was so stupid. Damn Stupid.

        The nurse adjusted the IV. Checking off a box on the endless chart, she smiled at Angie. "You are doing much better. Your blood tests all came back normal and, we are going to take that pacemaker out."
        Angie looked at the nurse, and flicked her eyes to the respirator.
        "Oh, that. Well honey, you may not be off of that for a few more days. Have to give yourself time to heal. But..." The nurse turned around and went to a small bedside table and opened a drawer. "Here you go" the nurse handed Angie a small tablet with a marker. "Your handwriting may be a bit shaky, marker should help."
        Angie wanted to smile, slowly, with the nurse holding the tablet Angie wrote "thk u". Angie stared something was wrong; the words didn't look right. The nurse lifted the tablet
        "....You're welcome." The nurse looked down at Angie. "Oh, now don't worry 'bout your spelling, that happens sometimes after a coma like yours. All will be well." The nurse let out a nervous chuckle, tore the note off the tablet, folded it and placed it in her pocket. "I'll leave this here. You can speak to that nice young man. You are lucky to have someone like him... have to kick him out every day." The nurse winked.
        Angie's eyes darkened.
        "Try to get some sleep." The nurse opened the door. "Well well, look what the wind blew in!" Stepping back, the nurse revealed a wet, red-faced Rollie.
 
 

        The nurse looked at Angie and then back at Rollie.
        "I think I'll leave you two alone. Mr. Tyler? There are towels in the closet over there." Standing on her toes, she whispered in Rollie's ear "Don't go exciting her too much, she's had a rough day... buzz the desk if anything happens."
        Rollie nodded mutely, his eyes never leaving Angie's face.
        The nurse stepped behind Rollie and closed the door. Angie stared.
        Rollie lowered his head and whispered "If you never want to see me again I'll understand. I-I-I just need to know that everything is alright with you... I'll do everything I can, and then I'll leave." Raising his head, he peered at Angie. Angie stretched her hand out, beckoning him to come. Rollie nearly ran over, grabbing her hand with desperation.
        "I'm sorry... I'm sorry" He buried his head in the bed covers. "I'm sorry... dear god its all my fault, I'm so bloody sorry."
        Angie gently let her hand loose of Rollie's grasp and stroked his damp, soft hair. Rollie looked up, face beet red and tear stained. Angie pointed at the tablet and marker. Whipping his eyes to the table, he grabbed them both, hands shaking. Rollie snapped the marker open, and held the tablet for her. Angie wrote with slow concentration.
        "nt yur fault mine i stp bac ruin shot." Angie looked up into Rollie's face.
        Rollie's mouth twisted. Slamming the tablet down on the bed, he clasped Angie's face into his hands. "Don't you ever say that. EVER! This is not your fault, you under stand me!? This is NOT your fault." Rollie brushed a damp spray of bangs from Angie's face and gently kissed her forehead. "This is not your fault." Rollie choked on the last word. Angie pointed towards the tablet, Rollie held it up.
        "not your fault" Angie wrote as a single tear spread across her cheek. Rollie blinked, and faintly shook his head. Turning towards Angie he smiled and, with the soft pad of his thumb, gently wiped the tear from her cheek. Rollie stared deeply into Angie's eyes.
        After an eternity, Angie frantically shook the marker, Rollie turned back.
        "stop dripng all ovr me get a towl! I not need showr to!" Rollie let out a deep laugh, a smile cracking his somber face. Standing up, he walked over to the small closet, grabbed a towel and vigorously rubbed his hair.
 

        Nurse Pritchard watched as Rollie Tyler adjusted the pillows and sheets around the prone figure of Angie Ramirez. She did not want to disturb the moment but she had a job to do. Letting out a small cough, she entered the room. "I see she has fallen asleep."
        Rollie turned around and smiled. "Yes. She didn't want to, but she was so tired." Rollie looked back at Angie. "She has a fever," Rollie said it quietly, not certain where the thought had come from or why he had now chosen to voice it.
        "Her system is out of balance... we're monitoring her very carefully. A CAT scan has been ordered for every twelve hours."
        Rollie flinched, as if physically punched. "I thought everything was fine with her."
        Nurse Pritchard brushed a nonexistent spot from her coat. "Well, we need to be careful."
        Rollie walked towards her. "Careful?? What do you mean? Isn't a CAT scan serious?"
        Before she could answer, her beeper screeched. "Oh!" Nurse Pritchard looked almost relieved. "I must go now. The doctor shall be in shortly."
        Scared and uncertain, Rollie stared after the nurse. An hour later a tall, stern looking doctor entered the room. Rollie stood.
        The doctor thrust his hand out, "Mr. Tyler I presume?"
        "Rollie. Call me Rollie"
        "Mr. Tyler. I need you to know that we are doing everything we can. Ms. Ramirez is at a fragile state now. Although she is nearly out of danger, we still need to watch her. Her lungs still need to heal and we have yet to pinpoint the cause of the coma. A CAT Scan has been ordered every twelve hours. As you have seen, certain effects have come about. In some cases, swelling of the brain can occur during and after a coma. If the brain is swelling, there is a chance of damage and even death. This is the reason why we have ordered the scan."
        The Doctors words were cutting and unrestrained. Sometimes a doctor's best ally was the truth, laid out on the line without the trimmings, no time spent on fancy prose.
        His heart skipping a beat and total fear filling him, Rollie stood firm.
 

        Five days had passed and Rollie was overjoyed. Today the respirator was to come out! Angie's spelling had improved and the countless CAT scans had all come back clean.
        "Good morning Rollie." A shapely red head winked at the rumpled Aussie.
        "Good morning Dr. Gold. Nice day today."
        "You've been spending the night here again. I thought I told you to stop doing that."
        Nearly blushing, Rollie ducked his head. "Awww, I couldn't leave her." Rollie tenderly brushed his hand against Angie's shoulder and up her neck. "She had trouble sleeping last night... so excited about today."
        The red haired doctor silently watched Rollie, a man truly in love with the woman. Dr. Gold grinned, time and again she had tried to kick the young man out, only to be faced with an unmovable force.... she was glad though, what Angie really needed now was someone to count on, a strong hand to hold onto. The hardest part was yet to come. Recovery.

        Voices.. what were those voices? Angie slowly opened her eyes. What was going on? Angie smiled. Today was the day.
        "Angie? Morning love." Rollie smiled.
        Dr. Gold stepped forward, along with two nurses. "Angie. Hi. This is Steve." The doctor pointed at a plump, black haired nurse, "and you know Nurse Pritchard. As you know, today we are going to remove that respirator. Now, after we remove it, you are going to feel as if you are choking... don't be scared though. I'm going to place this mask over your face, it will provide oxygen to you. OK?"
        Angie nodded.
        "Alright... now, Steve is going to help me pull this out, and Nurse Pritchard is going to hold your head down, so it doesn't move. When I say three I want you to blow out as hard as you can... pretend you are blowing up a balloon. Hard. Ok? Ready? One...... Two..... Three."
        The large tube was quickly pulled out, Angie coughed and sputtered, thrashing her head.
        "ANGIE... calm down... its ok." Dr. Gold slipped a small oxygen mask over Angie's nose and mouth. "Take slow, shallow breaths dear.... that's right. I know it hurts, but that's to be expected. Your throat and chest will hurt for a few days."
        Rollie stepped before Angie, took her hand and kissed her forehead. "Told you it wasn't going to be that bad," he smiled.
        "Yea right." Angie's gave out a small smile, her voice ragged and barely above a whisper.
         Rollie let out a long, hearty laugh. "It's bloody good to hear your voice."
 

        It was late. Angie stared at the large brace that was now fitted on her 'broken' leg. The orthopedist had removed the large cast, placing this brace on, so she could start movement of her leg and knee. The brace was almost as bad as the cast.

        Rollie had been in earlier, he had smuggled in a bag of food for Angie, the contents of the bag made Angie smile, a Big Mac and fries, Chocolate candy and, for some bizarre reason a handful of gummi bears. Rollie had left only after Angie had insisted. Mira had stuck her head in sometime during the day, a day punctuated by her first trail visit to the physical therapy  room-- 'trial' being the operative word. Angie had felt her first misgivings when the nurse pointedly timed her pain injection to coincide with the trip to 'the gym.' Angie's 'personal  therapist' had borne a definite likeness to her high school math tutor. Angie remembered Mr. Gilfin for his meticulous, unwavering attention to detail, his attitude of 'keep doing it until you get it right." Shawn Bartman had been stamped out of the same mold. With a casual, loose grace that camouflaged a spine of unalloyed titanium, Shawn had gently laid out a plan of action that
Angie was  convinced would rival even the most sadistic boot camp run by the most  homicidal sergant-major in existence. Some of the orthopedic equipment scattered around the large workout room bore more than a passing resemblance to torture devices. And Angie's first exposure to the continuous passive motion machine did nothing to allay that impression. Something told her that she was not going to look forward to her daily sessions in Shawn's qualified hands, no matter how handsome he was. At least that was over. Until sometime tomorrow. Or as Shawn had said 'bright and early'. Angie had an image of it being bright and surly, but she hadn't dared share that intuition. She'd already decided that it  would not be a good idea to piss Shawn off.

        Channel surfing brought no inspiration, only a reminder of why she didn't watch television. Ignoring the flickering images wrapped around some kind of nighttime soap opera, Angie rummaged through the drawer in the metal night stand beside her bed.
        "Whatever contraband you've got in there, you'd better put it back before I see it."
        Angie nearly slammed the drawer shut on her own had. She fought back the only way she could. "Hi, Doctor Dick."
        "um hmmmm." Dr. Dick Haberman, longtime friend of Angie's father and now her surgeon and personal doctor, dropped into the bedside chair. It was late, and he'd been on his feet entirely too long. Angie was his last visit, and he'd put off coming in, hoping that he'd get a better reading on his patients condition. Nothing much to worry about yet, he assured himself even as his conscience registered the satin sheen of sweat on Angie's face. The kid had obviously conned someone into bringing her clothes from home. Instead of the all-too-skimpy hospital gown, Angie was wearing sweat pants above the brace that had finally been fitted on her right leg and a dark t-shirt.
        "I'm going to upgrade the antibiotics." he said. "see if we can't wipe out that fever."
        "Does that mean more needles?"
        Haberman smiled, a wicked twist to the expression on his weary face. "Just remember that I'm keeping count of the 'doctor Dick's'."
        "Oops."
        "Oops is right. Never try to out-nasty a surgeon, kid. Can't be done."
        "When can I get out of here?"
        "Angie, we need to talk"
        "Uh-oh, that sounds ominous." Angie scooted herself up higher against the pillows, wincing at the pain in her knee.
        "Doesn't have to be ominous." Haberman countered, settling back in the chair. It was comfortable, a siren song of promised rest that threatened to take him just one level too deep into relaxation, something he couldn't afford with a patient hanging on his every pronouncement. Especially one as hyperactive and perceptive as Angela Ramirez.
 

        "I'm sorry Mr. Tyler," Dr.Haberman shook his head solemnly, "we did everything we could. The injuries were just too great," he firmly placed his hand on Rollie's shoulder "she went peacefully, no pain."
        Rollie tore himself from Haberman's grip. Grief filling his every pore, he collapsed into a heap at Angie's head. He shook her gently, tears freely pouring down his harrowed face, pleading for her to awaken.
        Rollie's eyes snapped open.
        For a moment, he didn't move, didn't breath. held in the numbing grip of the nightmare, suspended in the shadows of his mind. Slowly he drew a shuddering breath, shattering the illusion. Reality shimmered around him. A fine sheen of cold perspiration covered his body, soaked into his cotton shirt. The soft fabric clung to his trembling frame like a second skin. Silence surrounded him with chilling dread-heavy, oppressive - though the faint sounds of the traffic below penetrated the room as a secondary nondescript noise.
        He sat on the bed in his studio, the sun seeping in through the glass windows, spilling shadows onto the floor. His skin tingled from the powerful emotions that still lingered from the dream, drawing him nearer to a fear he had thought he was finally banishing.
        Rollie slowly let himself off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom, he turned his shower on to full blast, and pealed the sweat soaked shirt and boxers from his body, he stepped in, and let the warm, thrum of water wash away the last visages of the dream

        Angie stared silently at the morning sun. It was just past dawn, and she was wide awake. A slim, petite nurse entered the room and flashed a large warm smile at Angie;
        “My, you sure are up early. I bet you could use this,” the nurse dropped a small, clear cup onto Angie’s bed-table. “I brought you fresh water too,” she smiled, poured the contents of the pitcher into a paper cup and handed it to Angie. “I’ll be back in an hour for vitals.” She gave one last smile, and left the room.
        Angie slowly picked up the tiny plastic cup and dropped the contents into her open palm. She stared. The large, orange, oval shaped pill  sat blandly in her soft hand. Angie wanted to throw it across the room, to grind it up and toss it out the window. She hated the way the one pill made her feel. Foggy, unfocused, bleary eyed. She spent many times wondering if she was caught in a strange dream-reality. Yet, the relief the pill offered was great, especially now that she was in the throws of Shawn’s torture.
        Angie placed the pill on the back of her tongue and drained the contents of the paper cup. Angie sat back, and remembered Dr. Haberman’s damning, frightening words. Words that had changed her forever, yet gave the knowing that forever might not be.
 

        Dr. Haberman sat slightly up and watched Angie closely "Hurting?"
        Surprisingly, Angie nodded "it hurts all the time" she rallied, just a bit. "Its just the knee though. My leg feels fine."
        "Well, that's the problem."
        "No pain's a problem?" Angie asked as if not quite grasping the concept.
        "It can be a sign of nerve damage"
        "And that means?"
        "That means we wait and see if it regenerates itself."
        "Regenerates?" Angie parroted the word "Like a lizard? See if I grow another tail?"
        "Not quite. But I suppose you could use that as a template."
        "But that's all? I mean, my leg's not going to shrivel up and fall of or anything, is it?  I'd hate to see you go to all this trouble if--"
        "Angie. Enough"
        The raw edge in Haberman's voice brought Angie up short. The words rattling in her mind faded, the dropped away in to the vat of vaguely formed worries that she had been skirting around for the last couple of days.
        Haberman leaned forward "Angie, I want you to listen to what I'm saying. I don't want you to hear what you're afraid I'm going to say or what you want to hear. I want you to hear what I'm saying. Period. No interpretations." He waited for a response but got none. "I don't want there to be questions that you're going to just let simmer unasked. You got a question, ask it. If you're
burying a fear, get it out in the air so I can help you deal with it."
        "Sounds like...like it's..."
        "No promises, kid. No false hopes. But we're not giving up either."
        "Shawn...Shawn said that I could get full range of movement back. He said I could..." Angie's voice faltered.
        "And you might. I just want you to remember that there can be serious problems. Setbacks. You have to deal with them when they come up. I don't want you to ignore them. But you can't let yourself be overwhelmed by them either."
        "Middle road?" Angie said, slightly nodding.
        "Middle road is okay" Haberman agreed.
        "Okay, I can do middle road. No sweat."
        Haberman placed a tentative hand on the bed-rail " As you know, you're spiking a fever. Fever equals infection, infection equals a setback."
        "Then get rid of it," Angie demanded with a sweep of one hand that indicated the answer was so simple as to be beyond consideration.
        "Angie, think!" Haberman tightened his grip on the rail.
        "Oh...the shots..to come"
        Haberman sighed "Yes, we're trying. The problem is, that we don't know where its coming from. It could be the knee, it could be from your lung. Or. Or it could be from the coma"
        "But I had, those tests. Its been--"
        "It hasn't been that long since your coma. You were showing complications then, you're showing them now." Haberman swiped his hand across his chin "This is dangerous. If it is a reaction, a swelling, there are only so many things we can do. I've ordered a CAT scan, and the nurse will be coming every hour." Haberman looked at the floor, and then back at Angie, he sighed "I've ordered another CAT scan. Like I said, if its a complication, a swelling or an
increase in fluid there are only--"
        Angie grabbed Habermans arm, "Are you saying what I think? Are you saying I could c-could die?" searched his face desperately for an answer.
        "I can't answer that" Haberman plucked his hand free from Angie's grasp and slowly stood up........

        Angie softly rubbed her palm against her mouth, stifling a sob, the memory vivid and terrible.
        "Are you alright dear?" The small nurse appeared before her eyes.
         Angie sniffed once and smiled "yea, just moved the wrong way."
        "Well, that will pass soon." The nurse smiled back, turned and picked up a blood pressure cuff. Angie watched as the small cuff slowly inflated. The nurse  picked up a thermometer "Turn your head" she then placed the thermometer in Angie's ear, pressed a button and then quickly pulled it out.
        Angie turned "well?"
        A frown crossed the nurses features. She slowly flicked through the clipboard placed on Angie's bed. Her frown deepened.
        Angie became irritated "Well?"
        The nurse jotted a note onto the clipboard and hung it back at the end of the bed. "I'll be back soon," the nurse seemed distant and left the room, the frown never leaving her face.

        Rollie stared  hopelessly at the unending arrangements of flowers. He let out an exasperated sigh, and began to leave.
        "Sir? May I help you" A tall, young man appeared before Rollie with a large grin plastered on his face.
        "I don't know. I need to get something special."
        "For whom?"
        "A very close...." Rollie stopped for a  moment, what was Angie? Really? She was more than a friend, and his feelings had increased since the "accident." Rollie was at a loss of words, and let out a small cough "...she's been in the hospital for awhile. I really need something special, something besides the same stuff, something to make her happy, to wipe out the gloom." Rollie gave a small, crooked smile.
        The young man had been watching Rollie intently. Countless times, men had come in looking for a gift for their countless girlfriends. However, this gentlemen, with his thick, deep accent seemed lost, seemed unable to face the deep feelings he had for the woman, feelings that were apparent even to a lowly flower-arranger. "I have just the thing!" He gently led Rollie off to a
small corner of the shop.

        ".....Not that I can tell...."
        "But all symptoms indicate--"
        "Yes, but it came back negative."
        "You know that in cases like this..."
        "Its too soon to make that assumption"
        "Its too late not to..."
        "Angie...." Dr. Haberman drew back the thin curtain surrounding Angie's bed and stepped forward. "Your fever has risen slightly. It may be a concern but--" Haberman was broken off by a stern, quick cough.
        "Ms. Rameriez? I am Doctor Wilhelm Vischet. I have been watching your case closely. I am not going to sugar coat this. Your fever has increased. However, the CAT scan you just had came back clear. No indications of swelling of any sort."
        "That's good. Right?" Angie gave a hopeful smile.
        "Its good and its bad. Its good that there is no swelling, but you could be having a fluid increase."
        "Dr. Di--Haberman said that it could be coming from my knee, or lung."
        "Ms. Rameriz, you complained of blurry vision and a slight headache. Now, in rare cases of internal, non-cerebral infections these symptoms are present. However, due to the coma we doubt that." Dr. Vischet stepped forward and drew a small pen light from his pocket. "Now, there is no reason for you to become worried yet. Your fever for the past hour has stabilized" Vishet flicked the light on, "Please follow the light. Good. Now, do you have any sensitivity to light?"
        "No. None."
        "That's good. We have increased the Anti-b dosage. And, in three hours you should have another scan."
        "What's going to happen?" Angie sat forward.
        "With the increase, it should be decreased, kill whatever is infecting you."
        "Should?"
        "We are giving you Anti-b's on the chance assumption that it is a non-cerebral infection. If, in three hours your fever rises and if the scan indicates a fluid rise we will have to do a drainage procedure."
        Angie looked at Haberman desperately, then back at Vischet. "Wait a minute. What do you mean 'drainage procedure'?"
        Vishet placed the pen-light back in his pocket and stepped back "Well, we do a procedure which entails the dri--"
        Haberman quickly stepped forward and grabbed Vischet by the shoulder "We are going to wait and see Angie. Nothing has indicated that we will have to do anything but give you a regimen of antibiotics. Don't worry."
        "But--"
        "Dr.Vischet is just being careful. He's worried, as we are all. But lets just give you the IV antibiotics and see where it goes. OK?"  Haberman glared at Vishet.
        "I guess." Angie answered weakly.
        "Now, drink lots of fluid. Anything that doesn't have caffeine, and get some rest." Haberman stepped forward and gently patted Angie's hand. "See you later kid."

        Rollie bounded into the room, his hair windswept and his face flushed with the cold, brisk air of a perfect New York fall. "Hey. Angie!! Great da--" Rollie's words died abruptly in the air. His bright, full, smile fell to pieces. "What's wrong?" Rollie stood frozen in the middle of the room, his hands still clutched behind his back "Angela?"
        Angie turned. Her face, once bright and full of life, was a gray, pale color and it was mercifully covered with the small, red, blotches of fever.
        "Hi Rol. The doctors said I'll be ok, just a slight infection." Angie pointed towards the tangle of IV leads "Got me hooked up with enough Antibiotics to cure an army." She let out a small, tired laugh.
        "What's going on Angela?" Rollie didn't move.
        "It's ok Rollie, they said it was expected with everything going on. I'm ok"
        "You're not OK Angela."
        "Well, I don't feel too great, but I'll be fine."
        Rollie stared hard at Angie, completely unconvinced in what she was saying.
        "What ya got behind your back?" Angie smiled, and slowly sat up.
        Rollie looked confused, then brightened "These..." Rollie brought the large, heavy bouquet from his back with a flourish "..are for you."
        Angie's face lit up with total joy. "Oh Rollie.." Angie gathered the gift in her arms, and let out a full, bright laugh, "they're perfect!"
        Rollie let himself smile, despite the feelings of foreboding that filled his mind.
        "Um, get...get that bucket over there....oh, oh these are so wonderful. Where ever did you think to get them?"
        Soon, in one small corner of the room sat a perfect, full bouquet of sunflowers.
 

        “Damn it..” Rollie cursed softly as he nearly fell out of the all too small hospital chair.
        “Rol..” Angie mumbled
        Rollie reached over and whispered into Angie's ear “Go back to sleep”
        “mmmff..” Angie drifted off
        Rollie smiled. It had been a long two days but Angie had gotten through it. Her fever had fallen and risen countless times but over the past fifteen hours her temperature had been completely normal, and her regimen of antibiotics had been decreased.
        Trying his best to nestle into the chair, Rollie soon fell fast asleep.
 

        The view sucked.
        Angie had been staring at the ceiling for ten minutes, lying on the stiff floor mat in the physical therapy room. It smelled and sounded like a locker room with curses and groans and the hollow, metallic thump of weights.
        “But its not a locker room” Angie thought grimly. “Its a hospital.”
        Shawn slowly extended Angie’s leg. Sweat soaked her fleece shirt, dampening her back and shoulders. She hitched in a breath as the muscles tightened. Shawn stopped the motion and massaged her hip.
        “Get on with it” she thought.
        She tried to reconcile herself to her new limitations. Rollie told her she needed to be more patient. Dr. Dick told her she was doing as well as expected. And Mira told her not to worry. But Angie was determined  to walk without falling down, to get out of the hospital and get back to her life.
        The only problem was, she wasn’t sure what life that was.
        “You seem to be concentrating on something very seriously,” Shawn said his hands working down Angie's leg. “Any thoughts?”
        “The ceilings dirty”
        Shawn tilted his head and examined the stained ceiling with the narrow, dirty lights “we had a flood about a year ago. Burst water pipes. That's the children's ward up there. I think.”
        “How appropriate.” Angie wore a pair of black “Tyler FX” trademark sweats, refusing to be bullied into the hospital issue pants and tunic. ‘it’ll save on your laundry bill’ they said. But the black sweats made her at least feel like an adult, even if she walked like a toddler.
        “The awkwardness will pass” Shawn said, reading her mind, “Don’t worry how you look Angie. In this room everyone is equal. It’ll get better. Ready to get on your feet?”
        She was more than ready.
        Her left arm was still in a sling, and her ribs were tender, hampering her ability to rise on her own. She couldn’t seem to get enough muscle into the movement, having to favor one side or the other. Shawn slipped an arm beneath her back and supported her to a sitting position. She sighed lightly as her ribs caught. If she took shallow breaths, her chest wouldn’t bother her too
much. However, she knew once the therapy session got going, she’d be hurting from head to toe. She’d learned how to conserve her energy and pace herself.
        “Rollie’s not here today.”
        “No.” Angie had told Rollie to take the afternoon off. The constant supervision was wearing on both of them. Rollie needed time to himself, to rest and take care of his own needs. Rollie looked drawn and weary, and Angie needed time as well. Neither had reconciled with the fact of the accident that had placed her here. Every time Angie tried to broach the subject, Rollie
clammed up. Finally, Angie surrendered, too exhausted and frustrated to fight both their battles.