He felt like he had been sitting in the same position for hours – legs numbing slowly with an incessant case of pins and needles – but Will was reluctant to move for fear of waking Helen, who appeared to be sleeping at last. Looking around the cool, pale hospital room he felt a chill climb his spine much too slowly for comfort.

The last time he had been in a hospital room with one of his children for so long a doctor calmly told him and Helen that their son would never walk again. It was not an experience he wished to repeat, and although deep down Will knew he was being irrational there was no other way he could behave when the small body in the ward-bed was his little girl.

That little girl was currently tossing and turning, mumbling in her sleep against the nightmares. It tore him to see her that way, but Will knew there was nothing he could do, even if he woke her up there was no guarantee the visions would go away. The Lyme disease could just bring them into her waking world, and he wanted her to have one safe place in the world. Never wanted her to feel like she was under attack when he was near. So he let her sleep.

Just as he was settling back into his position on the sofa the shrill ring of his cell phone alerted Will to a call, causing him to jump in the stillness of the dark room.

"Hello?"

After several minutes of conversation which just seemed like buzzing to him Will hung up, shoving the small device back into his pocket and turning toward Helen who was still curled over his left arm.

"Helen…" he nudged her gently.

"Hmmm?"

"I just got a call, I have to go down the station," he explained softly.

"Now? But her test results haven't even come back yet, Will," she protested.

"I know, I just… This is important, they can't do it without me," he stumbled making his way into a standing position.

Gathering his coat Will kissed Helen goodbye before leaving a quick kiss on the forehead of his baby girl and heading out into the blank hospital corridor that buzzed with fractured strip lighting.

Once outside the hospital gates he let out a deep, shuddering sigh making his way towards the car park as quickly as he could through the cool, night air.

The truth was the call hadn't actually requested he arrive at the station, it was only to keep him updated. However, if he had to stay any longer in the small white room where his daughter lay dreaming in a fever Will didn't think he could cope. He had to be strong, be there for Helen and the boys, most especially for Joan – and if he didn't take this time to get some perspective, to channel his frustration into something productive, then Will thought he might break down a little. And he didn't have time for that.