When he kissed her goodbye, it never crossed his mind that it would be the last time.

She seemed fine, they'd spent the evening reminiscing about some of the better pranks that had been pulled by members of the 2nd squad. She'd been allowed to start eating a few days earlier, and the doctors were even talking about releasing her in a couple of days. Before he left, he kissed her, and she grabbed the front of his t-shirt and responded in a way that made him chuckle and say, "Yeah, you're definitely feeling better!"

He went home and slept, opened the diner for a couple of hours, ran a few errands, and then headed back to the hospital, stopping on the way to pick up some food for her. She'd been complaining about the tasteless slop they were serving her in the hospital, so he figured he'd suprise her with some gourmet soup.

It wasn't until he stepped out of the elevator that he started to realize that something was wrong. The nurse at the nursing station looked up and her smile faded when she saw who it was. He could hear agitated voices down the hall, and saw Sgt Brown was standing outside her room, looking shocked. When he saw Walsh, he began to walk towards him, and Walsh didn't like what he read in the other man's face.

"What happened?" he demanded, trying to push past Brown, but his superior stopped him.

"I'm sorry – they said it was one chance in..."

"What happened?" he said again. He tried to shake off the restraining hand that was gripping his arm. Why wouldn't Brown let him go into the room?

"They said it was a blood clot, it migrated to her lung, and... Walsh, they said it was fast, she hardly knew what was happening. I'm sorry... she died about an hour ago."

Walsh shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "But she was fine yesterday... she can't be dead. What, this is some kind of sick prank...?"

He pushed past Brown and shoved his way into the room, just in time to see the nurse lift the sheet and drape it over Beamont's face...

He woke in a sweat, trying to sit up, getting tangled in the sheet. As he fought his way free of it, he looked down at her beside him. Beaumont was sleeping peacefully, her face turned towards him. She was breathing slowly, deeply. The shadows around her eyes hadn't quite faded yet, and her face still had a slightly pinched look, but she looked better than she had done, even just four days ago when she'd finally been released from the hospital. He was staying at her place, so that he'd be right there if she needed him.

And every night since, he'd had the same nightmare, of arriving at the hospital to find that she was dead, and he hadn't been there with her. Moving carefully, he slid out of bed, and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. He drained the glass in one long gulp, then went back into the bedroom, but he didn't get back into bed. Instead, he sat at the end of the bed, staring into the darkness.

"Walsh?"

He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, trying to shake off the dark, oppressive feelings from the nightmare, before she spoke. She sat up. "You okay?" He nodded. He didn't want to worry her, to let her know what was haunting his dreams, but she said, "The dream again?"

"What... how did you know...?"

She crawled along the bed towards him, and put her arms around him from behind, leaning her head against his back. He closed his eyes, trying to memorize the way it felt when she touched him. "No-one ever tell you that you talk in your sleep?" she said softly.

He shook his head. "What did I say?"

"'She was fine yesterday, she can't be dead'." Beaumont moved to sit beside him on the end of the bed. "Walsh, look at me. Look at me. I'm doing great. You know what they said, I'm healing a lot faster than they expected. They're going to take out the last of the stitches tomorrow..." She glanced at the clock on her nightstand, and amended, "Today. So you need to let it go. We're cops, these things happen. You can't spend your life worrying about me."

She reached for his face, turning him to look at her finally, so she could kiss him. Walsh responded, the nightmare slipping further away as he felt her lips move beneath his.

"And you have to be in work in a few hours," she added, breaking away. "Get some sleep."

"Yeah." Walsh got back under the covers and lay back down, smiling as Beaumont curled up beside him, one arm across his chest, her cheek resting against his shoulder. He tightened his arms around her, taking comfort in the feel of her, in the way she fit just right in his arms, in the faint vibration of her heartbeat, and the soft sound of her breathing, as she slipped back into sleep again.

But he didn't sleep again that night.