FOUR WEEKS LATER
Greg heard paper rustle. He didn't open his eyes for fear his nightmare would be waiting for him. Someone's body part, an arm or a hand maybe, brushed his hand, making him flinch.
"Greg?" Catherine's voice softly asked.
Greg opened his eyes, focusing on her. She smiled, sliding her hand into his.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi," he whispered. His throat was raw and it hurt to talk. He lifted his hand to touch it and found that hurt too.
"Do you need something?"
"Water?"
She let his hand go to pour water into a glass. She peeled a straw and leaned over the bed railing so he could get a drink. He moved his head when he was done and she set it aside. Greg slowly took in his surroundings, recognizing the hospital room.
"How am I?"
"Good."
"What did he do to me?"
"Infected you with Avian flu."
"Isn't that like... Contagious?"
"Not anymore."
"How long..."
"You've been in the hospital for four weeks. You survived."
"And Nick?" Greg whispered.
"He's at home. He starts work tomorrow."
Greg looked up into her eyes. "Where is Blaine?"
She hesitated. "He committed suicide."
Greg stared at her face for a long time and she held his gaze unwavering.
"I shouldn't be glad he's dead."
She rubbed his shoulder. "No, but... He tried to kill you. It's understandable."
Greg sighed, closing his eyes. "Are you staying?"
"For a little while."
Greg turned his head. "Next time, we'll have that cup of coffee."
He was already asleep when she quietly told him, "Sounds good, Greggo."
Catherine took his hand, standing close while he slept.