AN: Thank you everyone for the wonderful feedback. I realise that I vanished for months and I apologise intensely. Remedying that now.

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"Excuse me." The nurse was back; she stood in the doorway.

Mick straightened quickly and bit back an oath. How much had she heard, if anything? And goddammit, didn't they have any other patients to check on?

"I'm so sorry to interrupt." Her tone really was apologetic, "But Ms. Vincent has another visitor."

Instinctively they both glanced at Coraline. Mick's jaw dropped. She had been awake less than a second ago...she'd been talking..!

"Morgan?" he asked tentatively.

The nurse coughed - or choked more likely. "She's intubated," she said softly, "most of the time she's in a haze from the painkillers and muscle relaxants. She can hear you, but she won't be able to respond, beyond nodding or trying to smile."

Mick's head snapped up. "That's impossible," he stated flatly. "She was just talking. I heard her." Was it his imagination or did a slight flicker of alarm pass over the nurses face?

She shook her head slowly, "I'm sorry. The tube..." she indicated the clear, plastic hose taped to Coraline's nose, "goes down through her throat. It paralyzes the vocal chords."

"But she was talking...to the police. Yesterday!"

The nurse let out a small sign of relief, "I see. No, she was left un-intubated for ten minutes yesterday while you gave your statement. The doctors ascertained that her lung could stand the strain." Her voice dropped a pitch soothingly, "This is just to make her comfortable; the machine is just breathing with her. She's not in any pain, I promise."

He felt cold fear wash over him. This was a hallucination...impossible. Coraline'd just asked about Beth. Victims, victims. The cure, he'd been asking about the fucking cure...! Maybe he really needed to sleep? Was she playing more mind games with him? Coraline. He swiveled his head to look at her again...her face was still, the broken chest rising only slightly.

The respirator hissed behind him. The nurse stood sympathetically, waiting for him to respond.

"Who is it?" he finally asked, his voice far more unsteady than he would have liked.

"I'm sorry, who is who?"

"The visitor." He licked his lips, trying to sort out the tangled mess in his head. Had he been hallucinating? She had spoken, he'd heard her...

"A work colleague. She's not family so I came to check with you."

With me? Mick shook his head in puzzlement, "I'm not family either."

There was no mistaking the surprise on her face this time. "Aren't you together?" she asked, incredulity flooding in her voice, "She has you listed as her emergency contact!"

Emergency contact from when? When we first got married? 1986 before I killed her? Mick willed himself to wake up in his freezer - it had to be a dream - he could almost taste the cold.

And then he caught the scent of the visitor on the nurse. Beth.

She was eying him warily now, an expression of grave concern etched between her brows.

Mick forced himself to play along. "Yes-sorry. I - I thought you meant blood..relatives." He winced slightly as he said the words and ran trembling fingers through his hair, "I'm just...shaken up still."

The nurses expression softened. Obviously distraught partners imagined things, anything to ignore the high mortality rates for open chest wounds. "It"s understandable. Ms. Vincent's asleep, but would you like me to show her in anyway?"

Who? Oh, the visitor. Beth. He wasn't sure this was a good idea at all. Beth was so angry, she must be even angrier after yesterday. Eighty-five years is not enough to prepare you for what happens when your semi-comatose ex-wife and her would-be murderer, who happens to have been severely traumatized by the the ex-wife, face off, with only you as referee. Especially when you're caught like a rag doll between them. He had little choice though; the answer was a foregone conclusion. "Yeah, of course."

Beth came in sombrely, obviously not surprised to find him there, but she had trouble meeting his eyes.

A first time for everything. The thought hit him painfully as she walked over. He wasn't sure if it was because of her histrionics or his damnable lack of control the previous day.

"Hey," he said softly as a peace offering.

Her expression lightened a bit but still looked forbidding. "Hey." She moved to stand beside him.

"I brought flowers," she continued, "but they wouldn't let me...it's sterile here. And she has the chest wound, so..."

"Yeah I know. Nice thought though."

"Is she asleep?"

He shook his head. "Drugged. They put her on a respirator; she can't speak."

Beth frowned, "But - I mean - yesterday Josh said she told the police it was an accident."

Mick could cheerfully have shot himself. Didn't she ever stop being a reporter? They were playing the game again, another game. He would tell her what the nurse had said, she would nod. Another few minutes and they'd both leave. And neither of them would have said a word worth listening to. This game used to be a lot more meaningful when Beth insisted on being honest.

"They left her un-intubated for about 10 minutes," he said. "I didn't realise it at the time but she basically said two sentences and then was quiet. I think the drugs were taking effect when I was talking."

"Why didn't they intubate her from the start?"

"How would I know? Do I look like a doctor?" he snapped.

"Well, you seem to be here everyday and buddy-buddy with the nurses. I'd assume you'd have the necessary information!" she lashed back angrily.

He ignored the anger and focused on her words., speaking slowly as one would to a child. "She used to be a...She used to be invulnerable, Beth. Now she's as mortal as you and everyone else in this hospital. I need to know how she did it. So yeah, I'm here."

He turned to look at Coraline again. "Besides, I was responsible for her. I should have protected her."

"From me." Beth's voice was hollow.

He didn't reply, just nodded.