Sorry for the delay. Been super busy, but I will try to get 5 finished sooner. Glad to hear from some of you who are enjoying my little story. I know it's super bleak right now, but that will change.

i haven't been a regular Y&R viewer for awhile. I average 10-15 minutes most weeks. 😕 But (to whoever commented last), I did catch the doctor talking about living wills with Phyllis. Heroic measures? Really? He's not hooked up to anything, just like I troika never was when she was in a coma. Crazy stupid! I fully admit all of my medical knowledge comes from Google, Youtube, and the good seasons of E.R. If you can't even do that, don't try! Glad I wasn't the only one who caught that!

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 4

She must have fallen asleep at some point during the night, the second of an undetermined number of nights she would probably spend in the ICU. Victoria felt herself drowsy and weightless, hammocked in the grayness that separates rest from reality. The need for more sleep tugged at her, begging her to come back, but so did the warm daylight pressing against her eyelids and the beeping that had followed her into her dreams, anchoring her to real life so that she never fully rested. The beeping became clearer as her face became warmer, each beep bringing her closer to the surface, reminding her where she was.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Billy. Hospital. Accident.

But the more awake she became, the more she realized something wasn't right. The beeping was different. It was too fast. Alarming. Raging. It was calling for help like a panicked mother with a missing child.

Victoria was frantic before she was awake, stumbling and fighting her way out of the two chairs that served as a makeshift bed before her eyes were even fully open. The first blurry image she saw was Billy, in his hospital bed, calm and lifeless, his swollen, bruised eyes still closed on the world, his lower half still blanketed in pink chenille. But across from her, the machine connected to Billy by a long hose continued to yell, angry and hysterical, and her heart sped up to match its pace. This wasn't a dream or part of a nightmare. He was in trouble.

"Billy?" she pleaded, her shaking hand hesitant to touch him. "Billy, please."

Her eyes searched the room for help, but they were alone. There was no one to send for a doctor or a nurse. Quickly she found the call button and pressed it over and over again, but no one responded. She looked towards the door next. She knew she had to get someone, but her feet, still tangled in a blanket she didn't remember, wouldn't move. She was trapped again between two worlds, needing to get help but finding it impossible to leave him. And greater than either was the fear that this was it. That this was the end.

"Somebody!" she called out from his bedside. "We need help in here. He needs help." She lowered her head to Billy's and her hand still shaking, but no longer hesitant landed gently on his arm. "Hang on," she whispered. "Please hang on. Help is on the way."

The promise had only just left her lips when the door opened and a nurse strolled through, her neat ponytail bouncing in time with her casual strides. It was the same nurse in aqua scrubs from the first night, but despite the chaos in the room, there was no hurry or panic in her step or her face.

"Please," Victoria begged, her feet finally moving towards the nurse, her desperation attempting to pull her towards Billy before a tight grip on her arm could. "Something's wrong,"

"Oh, no," the nurse apologized, unmoved. "It's just the ventilator. It does that all the time. It's completely normal." She slipped her arm free from Victoria's loosened grip and rounded the bed to the machine, but before she even touched it, the manic beeping stopped and the only sound in the room was the normal, steady rhythm she was used to. "See," she smiled, "it usually fixes itself. It's just adjusting to a change in the pressure in his lungs. Nothing to worry about."

Victoria was frozen in place by the sudden relief, but a few deep breaths later and her pulse returned to its normal rate. She nodded then, when she could move, both her gratitude and her understanding that all was okay, but the nurse had moved on, turning her attention to Billy. While she went about her routine of checking his vitals and suctioning around the tube in his mouth, Victoria went to work dismantling her makeshift bed. But as she folded the blanket and squeaked the chairs back where they belonged, she kept her eye on the nurse's movements, hoping to read something in her face. She was professional and confident in her work, gentle yet efficient. And she talked to Billy as she worked, explaining what she was doing as if he could hear her. Or maybe that was for Victoria's benefit. Either way it was comforting, seeing someone else at least pretend he was still with them.

"How's he doing?" Victoria asked when her bed was put away. "Other than scaring me to death, I mean."

The nurse smiled at Victoria's attempt at humor, revealing deep dimples that made her seem younger than she was. She was young, though, probably still in her twenties. "Not a lot of change," she admitted without looking up, her hand busy writing in the chart that rested against her stomach. "But his heart rate is pretty good. Blood pressure's okay. He has a bit of a temp, so we'll keep an eye on that. His lungs look a little better," she added and looked up. "Now we just need him to wake up."

"That's good. That's good, right? About his lungs." As much as she was trying to focus on the positive, on getting him better, the living will was a part of every thought, tingeing even good news with unease.

"It's not bad," the nurse smiled again.

"Thank you," Victoria sighed. "It's hard not knowing what's going on. And it seems the doctor is never around."

"Dr. Walker was just in here an hour ago."

"Wh-he was?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Oh. I must have…I must have been asleep." As much as the thought of Dr. Walker slinking in and out of hospital rooms in the wee hours of the morning made her uncomfortable, it pissed her off even more. They hadn't been given an update since yesterday morning. "Did he say anything? About Billy's condition?"

"No. But looks like he's scheduled some tests for this morning. A brain scan. That should tell us more. And I'm sure he plans on filling the family in soon. When he knows something."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Victoria mumbled unconvinced. Her run-ins with Dr. Walker had been few so far, but she was already certain his bedside manner was not his finest quality. She only hoped his healing skills were better. Otherwise, she would demand someone else.

Her growing contempt for the doctor didn't go unnoticed, and the nurse quickly averted her eyes from Victoria's to lesson the tension. "Hey, what's this?" she chirped and reached strategically across Billy to grab a small, flat jar from the little table beside his bed. She held it up so Victoria could read the handwritten word she already knew was on it. "Balm?"

"Oh, sorry. That's um, I was going to ask about that. I brought it last night with some other things."

"Aw. Sweet pictures." She spent a few seconds admiring each one of their children and then gestured towards the little jar. When Victoria nodded her okay, she twisted it open and brought it to her nose.

"It's a new product my lab is working on," Victoria explained. "It's good for scars and any skin blemish really. I used it all during my last pregnancy and not a stretch mark in sight. I was going to see if it's okay to use on his cuts. He's kind of vain about his looks." She laughed and then quickly added. "It's all natural."

"Sure," the nurse said, her dimples making a second appearance as she returned the jar to where she got it and headed towards the door with her clipboard. "It'll be good for him. Having the physical contact from someone who loves him."

Victoria felt a familiar ache in her chest, and she knew from experience it wasn't all prompted by the nurse's unknowing choice of words. She folded an arm across her breasts to lessen the pressure some.

"You know that couch folds out," she heard behind her. "No need to sleep in a chair."

"I don't mind the chairs," Victoria replied without turning around. "I want to be close. In case…"

"I get it. Let me know if you need anything."

"Oh, nur." Victoria spun around to see the young woman poised to open the door. "I'm sorry. What's your name?"

"Diana," she smiled and then added apologetically, "My mother is obsessed with the royal family.

"Diana," Victoria repeated with a smile, "is there a…a nursing room or something anywhere? I'm breastfeeding."

"Sure thing."

Diana pulled the heavy door open and held it, waiting for Victoria to join her. "Hey. I'll be back soon," she whispered to Billy and slipped her hand into his, squeezing it briefly before turning to grab what she needed and then followed the aqua scrubs and bouncing ponytail down the hall.

The unused conference room was just down the hall, the nurse had said. She would have to pass the waiting room to get there, and as she approached it she saw Jack slumped over in a chair, staring intensely at his phone. He was the only one there, and Victoria hesitated at the door, debating whether to enter or walk right by as if she hadn't seen him. For Billy, she finally crossed the threshold.

"Jack?"

"Victoria." He stood, but his back remained bent and his phone dangled loose in his grip. "Has something happened?"

"No. No," she reassured him, and his back straightened into its normal regal form. She didn't mention the scare from earlier to him. Or that Dr. Walker had been by and failed to leave an update. "Nothing's changed. I, um, I just need to check in with the kids, and they're sending him for tests soon. I don't want to leave him alone."

"No, yeah," Jack nodded. "I'll go. Sit with him."

"Thank you," she said quietly and readjusted the strap of the small black bag that kept slipping from her shoulder. They stood there awkwardly, neither having forgotten Victoria's accusation from the day before. "So where is everybody else?"

Her pleasantry caught Jack off guard, and he stood with his mouth open for a few minutes, words that were never spoken forming on his lips over and over again. "I, uh, I sent them home. To get some rest. Freshen up."

"You should too," she said and smiled softly at the 2-day-old stubble that dusted his face and the wrinkled suit that was so unlike him. She recognized it was the same suit he had worn the night they were all summoned to the hospital. As far as Victoria knew, he hadn't left the hospital since.

"I will," he promised, returning her smile.

"Look, Jack. About yesterday."

"No. You were right," he interrupted, his face growing solemn again, solemn and pained. "I could've done more. Should've."

"I don't want to fight, Jack. Not now. Billy needs to get better. And he needs all of us on his side to do that. There'll be plenty of time to sort out the details and divide the blame once he's recovered."

He nodded, his eyes glistening with tears and his voice cracking as he spoke. "I'll never, I'll never forgive myself if he…"

"He will, Jack. He will get better." The strength in her voice was a front, a disguise intended to convince herself as much as Jack. If she kept saying it, if they all kept saying it, it would have to be true.

The empty conference room was cozy and comfortable and far enough away from the ICU to provide Victoria a moment of relief, but still close enough just in case. The kids were eating breakfast at the tack house when she called, and Nick positioned an iPad on the table so she could watch them as they ate and she filled empty bottles. Faith and Noah and Summer were all there, too. Johnny was laughing and grinning right along with his cousins, his mind obviously not on his father, and for that she was grateful to her brother. He was excited about going sledding after breakfast and told her that "KayKay," who was nestled like a football in Nick's arm, was too little to go and had to stay with Grandma and Grandpa. After promising to see them later, she ended the call and placed another to her other baby. Reed knew nothing about Billy's accident, and she needed to make sure J.T. kept it that way.

Refreshed and refocused after seeing and talking to her children, Victoria left her makeshift nursing room and headed back down the hall, back to Billy. As she passed the elevators, she was stopped by the sound of her name.

"Victoria," the voice called again, and she turned to see Ben waving at her from the nurses' station, a smile on his face that soon faded into uncertainty. She felt horrible. It had been two days since she'd seen him. She hadn't even told him her plans last night, and standing there with a brown paper bag in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, he seemed like a stranger to her. Like it was a year ago and he was just the doctor who had helped her with Johnny's rash and who had treated Billy after the accident and then again. Not the man that just two weeks ago she had asked to move in with her.

"Hey," she said with an apologetic smile as he approached her. He kissed her, and she let him, though it was awkward. She knew he felt it, too. But then he hugged her, the paper bag crinkling against her knotted back, and that felt better. It felt nice to release the weight of the past 36 hours against someone strong, sturdy, and uninvolved. Except he wasn't really uninvolved, she reminded herself. "I'm sorry. That I haven't called you or…anything."

He didn't respond, but pulled away from her, and together they walked towards the waiting room. "How's he doing?"

"Still critical. Still on a ventilator. And the doctor, he won't tell us anything." She realized the insensitivity of her remark only after she'd said it. The loss of his medical license was still a source of pain for him. "Sorry,' she apologized for the second time in less than two minutes and then sighed loudly. "It's just…I'm just a little…his ventilator went off earlier and scared me. I thought…"

"Hey. It's okay. It's fine. Those things do that all the time."

"Yeah, that's what the nurse said."

"I, uh, I talked to Ashley," Ben started when neither could take the silence that filled the waiting room. "I'm taking care of things at Jabot," he explained, "until, um, until…She told me about the living will."

She turned her back to him and buried her hands in her tangled hair, pushing it off her face so tight it hurt.

"I'm sure he'll pull through," Ben added softly, his feet shuffling closer to her. "I remember he's a fighter. And he has a good support system. Lot of family."

His last comment struck a nerve, seemed to imply something he wasn't saying, but Victoria chalked it up to lack of sleep and stress on her part. She turned back around and placed a palm of gratitude against the lapel of his winter coat. He was still a doctor in many ways, and for that reason, his reassurance meant more to her.
He looked down at her hand on him, and his mouth straightened into a firm line that should have warned her what was coming next. "So are you going to be staying here?"

"I have to," she whispered and met his eyes. She felt his retreat without moving and let her hand slip back down to her side. "You understand, don't you?"

"Yeah," he spat out. "I get it, Victoria."

"Ben," she coaxed. "You would do the same if it was your child's mother. Wouldn't you?"

He didn't answer her, and she wasn't sure if it was because he knew she was right or if it was a powerplay, his way of taking control of the conversation. And the situation. He cleared his throat after a while and forced a pleasant smile. "I don't feel right staying at your house, so I'll be at my place until…until we figure things out."

"Ben," she pleaded again and half-laughed in disbelief. "This doesn't mean anything for us. This is just something I have to do. For my kids."

He nodded, unconvincingly and held the paper bag out to her, creating a physical barrier between them. "I brought you something to eat. Too late for breakfast I guess. An early lunch maybe. Didn't figure you were taking care of yourself."

She accepted it, the coffee, too, when he handed it next. "Thank you," she said. It was truly the only thing left to say. "For taking care of me. And for, for understanding. I'm gonna make it up to you. I promise."

She initiated the hug this time and kissed him despite the coldness. It felt wrong, like an obligation at best, but he let her and it was all she had to give.

"I gotta get going," he said abruptly and pulled away from her. "Got some things to do at the lab."

"But it's Saturday," she smiled. "You can stay."

"Naw, I got some things to catch up on." He was already backing out the door, and she held her smile until he was out of sight. He would be okay. They would be okay, she told herself. When everything was settled with Billy, things would go back to normal.

The coffee he brought her was good, still hot, and she took a long sip before heading back to the nurses' station. One of the nurses there told her what she had assumed, that Billy was still having tests done, and not wanting to go back to that room and not see him there and not wanting to sit and contemplate another potentially failed relationship, she just started walking. She must have walked every corridor of the eighth floor at least three times, circling the perimeter over and over again, memorizing every detail of this new existence. She passed patients worse off than Billy, which was hard to believe, and others who were being wheeled to their release. She stopped a while in the atrium and watched a new round of snow fall from a gray sky. It made her feel cold, but at peace and reaffirmed her decision to be here and see Billy through his crisis despite her own doubts and the reality of their relationship.

When she'd had her fill of snow, Victoria made her way back to the waiting room. Billy still wasn't back yet, and none of the Abbots had returned either. Jack, too, was MIA. But her stomach rumbled, and remembering the paper bag Ben had brought her, she opened it and smiled at the contents. There was an apple and a sandwich and on the bottom, a huge powdered doughnut. She ate the apple and part of the sandwich and then stuck her hand in to retrieve the doughnut. As she did, she sensed movement behind her and felt eyes at her back.

Turning her head to the side, she saw a face that triggered a memory, with a name she couldn't recall. He was tall and muscular, his arms folded across his chest, not in the way she did it as armor, but because it seemed the natural and only comfortable place for arms so big.

"I'm sorry," she said and blushed, her hand still inside the bag.

"Harding," the bulky stranger said and lowered his arms to reveal a shiny badge clipped to the pocket of his shirt. "Detective Harding."

"That's right. I remember you from the hostage…." She stopped there, not wanting to recall the rest of that night when she had managed to find a little bit of zen amidst this new catastrophe.

"Eh. That's better than most women," he quipped, with a shrug of his shoulders. There was just enough honesty in his voice to concern her, though.

"Victoria Newman." She stood and rather than extend a sugar-covered hand, pulled the entire doughnut from the bag and offered that instead. "Doughnut?"

His eyes narrowed at her, his brow furrowed in what could only be anger, and she suddenly felt nervous and very, very confused. "You know that stereotype is extremely hurtful, ma'am. Extremely hurtful," he said in a gruff voice, but then his faced cracked into a huge smile and he reached towards her and in a single flick of the wrist, broke off half the doughnut and shoved half of it into his mouth. "Just kidding. Powdered. My favorite."

She wasn't quite sure what had just happened, but she found herself laughing right along with him. At his urging, she took a small, proper bite of the half he had left her, while he finished his half off in two bites and then wiped his hand on his jeans. Normally, his caveman-like behavior would have offended her, disgusted her at best, but not today. Today, the overabundance of testosterone was a welcome distraction.

"I know who you are," he said through a mouthful of doughnut. "I was looking for you, actually. Nurse at the desk said she saw you head this way. Got something for ya."

"Oh?" She tossed the rest of her half of the doughnut into the bag and threw the whole thing into the garbage in preparation. Detective Harding reached into his back pocket with the same hand he had just dusted clean and with the flourish of a magician, pulled out a square of folded paper that Victoria recognized immediately.

"Oh," she said again, this time a sigh that revealed too much. The recollection of the words and lines in Billy's handwriting tugged at her, and she snatched it from Detective Harding without asking permission and held it to her beating heart, forgetting she wasn't alone.

"One of the uniforms made me promise to get this back to you. I can…see why now."

"Sorry," she blushed and hid the note safely between her palms. "Thank you for bringing it, but –you didn't have to come all this way just to..."

"I didn't," he said without sensitivity and brushed past her. He plopped onto the sofa and settled in like he was ready for an afternoon of football and beer. "I came to follow up on the investigation."

"Investigation?" The word was like a punch in her stomach. "It's a-a full-fledged investigation now?"

Detective Harding studied her face, her reaction from where he sat. It was just part of his nature, his job, and though he undoubtedly saw the tears form in Victoria's eyes, he didn't show it in his response. "Let's just say there's still a lot of questions without answers."

"Like what?"

"Like…where did Billy go after he left your house? According to all the statements we took, you were the last person who saw him on the 14th."

"So what? Does that make me a suspect or something?"

"Yes," he stated simply, and Victoria felt her blood pressure rise and her fists tighten. But no sooner had the word left his lips, another formed and his face once again cracked into a smile. "No," he laughed, but sensed he had gone too far. "But you seem to know him better than most. His habits. What would be strange behavior for him."

"No. Not anymore. I can't help. You should talk to Chelsea Lawson. She's…she might know something."

"We already did." He pulled out a notebook, one similar to the one the other officer had used when he took her statement. "Chelsea Lawson," he read from it. "Last saw Billy the morning he disappeared. Said he was going to see his kids. They had a fight about her ex and broke up. She said he planned to send for his things."

"What about Gabriel Bingham? Did you talk to him?"

"He was there," Harding said, a curious look on his face. "They were each other's alibis, in fact."

"That's convenient," Victoria scoffed. He was taking up most of the couch, but she managed to squeeze herself on the edge of a free corner and threw her hands up in surrender. "Okay. What else?"

He grinned like a quarterback who had just thrown a winning touchdown or a kid given a clue to a treasure box. He sat up and leaned forward, a signal that he was ready to get down to business. He pointed to an address neatly written on a separate page in his notebook. "Okay. Do you know why Billy would have been here?"

"No. Why?"

"That's the site of the accident."

"But that's….that's in the middle of nowhere. There's nothing out there but farmland. And Adam's house." Harding gave her a questioning look that matched the intensity of her own confusion. She hadn't even asked where the crash took place. She'd assumed it had been near Delia's memorial. "My brother Adam," she explained, "my half-brother Adam lived there with Chelsea. But that was a long time ago. I don't know why Billy would have been there."

Harding wrote something in the notebook beneath the address. "Maybe he was there against his will?"

"What?"

He looked up at Victoria, half-surprised to see her. He had been talking to himself, working through scenarios in his head, but although he'd brought her into his process by accident, it frankly seemed he would need her to solve the case. "Look. Right now there's no evidence Billy drove himself anywhere. His car is still in garage at the penthouse. He was living there, right? The car at the alleged crash site, we can't locate an owner. The VIN number was burned off."

"What do you mean "alleged" crash site?" He was scaring her and upsetting her and all she wanted to do was go find Billy, see if he was back in his room. Make sure he was still breathing. And yet, she needed to know it all. Every detail.

"I shouldn't be telling you this, but there were no skid marks on the road, Ms. Newman. No sign of swerving or braking. The damage to the guardrail is minimal. Doesn't add up." He stopped, and she thought he was through, but he closed his notebook and lowered his voice. "Then there are the injuries to his wrists. Rope burns. "

She hadn't noticed them, his wrists. Only one was visible because of the cast, and his other injuries, all of his other injuries had seemed more important. "He was tied up?"

"Can't be sure." His emotional disconnect was challenged by her ghostly face, the softness of her voice that made even his voice soft. "Does he have any enemies that you know of?"

"No" was her immediate response, but she shook her head right after saying it. "He gambled. He, um, he has a gambling addiction, and debt collectors. I was…I was held hostage by one a couple years ago. Do you think-do you think that's what happened?"

"It's a possibility. His wallet and phone are missing, so it's possible. Is there anyone else?"

She bent over until her face hit her knees, suddenly sick and dizzy. She racked her brain for more answers, anything to help track down the bastard responsible. Billy aggravated plenty of people, most of them he was related to or married to. But only two other people came close to being an enemy. One was dead, and the other… the other walked passed the waiting room door just as she sat up and all the blood rushed to her, like a cold chill.

She didn't expect to see her father there, but when she did, she expected him to stop when he saw her. But he didn't see her. He walked on passed, and she stood, leaving the detective alone. He was still talking to her, but she barely heard him as she her father continue down the hall and then press the button that would open the doors to the ICU, to Billy.

"What about the bottle?" she asked suddenly, startling her companion.

"The bottle?"

"Yeah, the bottle of scotch found at the crash site." She gathered her stuff as she spoke, ready to make her escape. "Were there any prints. The other officer, he said there might be prints?"

"Yeah," he said and stood, sensing she was ready to bolt. "But they were ruled out because—"

"Sorry," she said suddenly and was gone despite his pleading hands in the air.

"Because they belong to Adam Newman," he said to no one and punch the air. "And we can't arrest a dead man."

Victor Newman walked the down the hallway of the ICU as casually and possessively as he walked the halls of Newman Enterprises. He stopped and smiled at the bubbly nurses who passed him in a hurry, and they smiled back but kept walking. Nothing about his air suggested he needed their help anyway. He knew exactly which room he was likely to find Jack Abbott in.

"What are you doing here?" Jack asked angrily the moment he walked through the door. Victor didn't respond right away. He took a long look at the figure in the bed between them, while Jack watched the comings and goings outside the hospital room like he had money on it. Billy Abbott. The man who had ruined his daughter's life, the reason he was here. Disfigured. Unconscious. Near death. He should have been elated.

"I told you we needed to talk," Victor finally said, his eyes still on Billy.

"And I told you later. Not here. And not now. You have to g—"

"Daddy? What are you doing here?"

Neither man had heard her enter, and the sound of his daughter's voice unnerved them both, though each had known her presence was possible. Victor turned slowly and met her eyes, those big eyes he had loved for so long, filled with hesitant loved and the fire of a ready fight. He smiled at her and approached her to wrap his arms around her.

"I came to see how you are doing, my sweetheart. Your mother is very concerned about you."

"I'm fine," Victoria replied as her eyes continued to search the space between the adversaries. Until she saw Billy, saw that he was back where she needed him to be. And he was breathing. Victor watched with a mix of sympathy and disgust as she walked to the bed and fawned over the man who had hurt her so badly, tucking blankets around him, making sure he was comfortable.

"I'm glad you're here," she said to her father when she was finished. Her comment surprised both men, and they waited nervously for her to continue. "I need to talk to you. About work. I need to take a few days, maybe longer. To stay here."

If she had expected him to refuse or berate her, she would have been wrong. He smiled at her instead and placed his strong hands on the tops of her shoulders. "You take all the time you need. Okay?"

"Okay?" she said, but something was off. Her senses told her that there was more to his visit than her well-being, and more than the usual tension between the two men. "What's going on here? Between you two? Because he doesn't need this right now, and frankly, neither do I. If-if you two can't put aside your differences, then you need to leave. Both of you."

Jack and Victor both opened their mouths to respond, to tell her that all was okay, that she was just stressed, but for the second time in one day, one of the machines protested and raged at them with angry, rapid beeps. Jack panicked, his face turning ashen and then red with lack of oxygen. Her father, too, seemed concerned.

"It's okay," Victoria said, forcing herself to remain calm, though her own heart raced again. "It's just the ventilator. It happened this morning. It'll stop by itself."

But it didn't stop, and unlike this morning, nurses rushed through the doors, several of them, all anxious and swarming Billy. One ran back out and returned with Dr. Walker.

"It's just the machine," Victoria cried. "Isn't it? Isn't it? Please?"

One of them, not Diana, another nurse with short hair pushed Victoria back, out of the way, and shook her head no.

"What is it? Please tell me. Please!"

"He's in cardiac arrest. You need to leave," she said and then disappeared into the swarm.

"NO," Victoria cried out. She tried to run to him, but Jack caught her from behind, his hands wrapping tight around her upper arms.

"Get these people out of here," Dr. Walker shouted without looking up.

"No! I have to stay," Victoria begged even as she felt herself begin pulled towards the door. "Please."

"Get them out," Dr. Walker shouted again, louder than the first time.

"Please," she begged, fighting harder against Jack's strength and her father's urging. Dr. Walker looked up then, his stethoscope hanging from his ears. He met her eyes with his, and she saw the concern, a little fear and the conflict before him.

"Please don't let him die," she whispered to him as the door closed, separating her from Billy. Lifeless and exhausted, she lay her against the hard surface and shut her eyes tight against the beeping, begging to wake up, certain this was just a dream and any minute now, she would wake up and all would be okay.