Written during the winter hiatus when we didn't know the ending to the "Who was killed, Orson or Karl?" cliffhanger.

Edit: I was looking at the view count for this fanfic and wondering why it has SOOOOOOO many more views than all of my others, I couldn't figure out why... a bunch of my friends just told me. Apparently from the title and description they all thought it was gonna be M-rated :3 Haha, it doeeeesssss, I can't believe I've never noticed that... nope, it's not a "kinky hospital sex" fic, it's appropriate for a five-year-old, sorry to disappoint! ;D

Bree lay in a tiny bed at the Fairview Hospital with her beautiful flame-red hair falling around her pale white face in soft curls, unable to sleep. Every time she drifted off, she had terrible nightmares that were partly caused by the drugs the doctors had put her on. Terrible dreams about the plane crash that had claimed her lover's life.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the plane crashing into the cute little Santa's Workshop house with her, her soon-to-be ex husband and her lover in it. She saw the red-and-green-painted playhouse crumble to the ground in slow motion; first the fragile wooden roof would crumple as if it was only a piece of paper, and then it would bring the rest of the charming little house down with it, not-so-daintily shattering into red-painted shards and burying the two men in her life underneath the ghastly mess of rubble. Bree had heard the chilling screams resonating around them, terror-stricken screams of her friends and neighbours that she wouldn't be able to forget until the day she died, but since since they had been trapped in an oversized playhouse with only one tiny window, she hadn't seen the small landbound airplane running right through the demure pastel-painted houses and hadn't known what was happening until the plane had come crashing right through the wall of the miniature house they were in. She could definitely imagine, though. The Christmas party in the middle of Wisteria Lane that had been filled with twinkling lights, overly cheerful smiles and wide-eyed little children playing in the downy artificial snow had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

Twisted.

Karl had been killed in the accident, and Orson was in critical condition at the hospital Bree was in. The nurse had told Bree that she was lucky; she wasn't badly hurt except for a deep gash on her forehead, but the doctors wanted her to stay overnight at the hospital to ensure that she didn't have a concussion, and they figured it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on her after the emotional trauma she had been through.

For hours Bree lay there on her back in the dark hospital room, restless, with a horribly sick feeling in her stomach.

There was only one person who could always comfort her, always knew exactly what to say because they were two of a kind. Only one person who would always love her unconditionally no matter what she had done. The longer she lay there thinking in that room that was so painfully silent except for the occasional whirring and beeping and pinging somewhere off in the distance, the clearer and clearer it was becoming to her.

Was it possible that the man she really loved had been there all along?

Suddenly, Bree knew what she wanted to do; it was the only way she could fall asleep. She tried to fight it and force herself to close her eyes, but gave into her impulses. The redhead looked around to make sure she wasn't being monitored, and she wasn't. She knew she would get into trouble if she got caught. Slowly, she rose from her bed and tiptoed into the hallway, barefoot and in her hospital gown. She was half under the influence of the anesthetic she had been given and didn't quite know what she was doing; maybe she wouldn't even remember any of this in the morning. After wandering down the hall for a few minutes she found the hospital room she had been looking for; Orson's, room 271.

Seeing him lying there, hooked up to all those wires and looking so pale and broken, broke her heart all over again. It hurt Bree too much to look at his wan, frail-looking face, and she was glad that his eyes were closed. It would have killed her to see the look of pain, betrayal and hopelessness in them. Up until that day, Orson had thought that Bree could do no wrong. Oh... he looked so fragile…

She had hurt him so much these past few months, especially with her affair. Looking at him lying there in that hospital bed, she promised herself that she would never hurt this man again.

Softly, she pulled back the covers and climbed into the bed with him, being careful not to wake him. She snuggled up to him, burying her gently trembling face in his chest and hugging him, blissfully happy that she was finally with him for the first time in half a year; it was all she needed. Orson shifted in his sleep a little, unconsciously wrapping his arms around his wife and holding her close to him, and that little moment made her heart go completely fuzzy. Feeling his steady heartbeat and gentle breathing comforted her. Finally, Bree's eyes slowly began to close, and she fell asleep in Orson's arms.

The nurse walked into the hospital room to see if Orson's condition had changed, and wasn't she surprised to see two people sleeping in the bed instead of one! She knew that by the hospital rules she would have to kick Bree out because Orson was in critical condition and therefore wasn't allowed any visitors, but she just couldn't. They looked so… peaceful. Even though Orson was in a deep, drug-induced sleep, he somehow seemed to sense Bree's presence and the nurse could have sworn that he was smiling faintly in his sleep. Orson even looked better too, a bit less pale somehow. The nurse decided to let them sleep and just give Bree a stern talking to when she woke up.

Morning light streamed in through the open window, illuminating Bree's porcelain skin. Her pale face was free of makeup and beautiful without it. She opened her jade-green eyes slowly. "Oh!" she said, looking up at the nurse through her long eyelashes and trying to fight the smile on her face when she realized where she was. "Um, sorry about that… it won't happen again."

After reluctantly disentangling herself from Orson's heartwarming embrace and getting a short, half-hearted lecture, Bree was free to go, but before she did, she stole a quick glance at her peacefully sleeping husband and a soft smile made its way onto her face.

They would get through this. Together. It was finally time for happily ever after…

The End