Patrick Jane very rarely went places that he did not want to go. Van Pelt's room in ICU was one of those places. He took a breath and went inside and forced himself to approach the bed. Surrounded by beeping machines and IV lines, and with her head wrapped in bandages, Van Pelt looked at him and managed a small smile and a wave. "Hi," she said.
Patrick had to get close to hear her. "Hi," he said back, followed by what he considered one of the stupidest things he had ever said, "How are you?"
"I've been better," she answered. "But they say I'll live."
"I'm glad," he said.
Grace smiled. "Me too." There was an awkward silence. She finally broke it. "I wanted to see you first, alone, because I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry," she said.
"You're sorry?" Patrick was startled.
"When we went in the dealership I called you 'Dad.' I was just playing around, I didn't even think that that might… " she paused. "I shouldn't have done that. I'm so sorry."
"Don't you be sorry," Patrick told her. "I'm the one who should be sorry. Who is sorry."
"Why?" she asked.
Her question was so innocent that he nearly lost control. Tears came to his eyes but he refused to let them fall. Gripping the rails on her bed, Patrick said, "I got you into this mess. This accident was my fault"
"The hell it was,' Grace said. "I set up the situation, I got in the car, I drove the car."
"But…"
"But nothing," she said. "Unless you knew people were going to shoot at us, and you knew we'd hit the red light, and you knew that Charles would stomp on the gas…" She could see he was struggling and put her hand on one of his. "Did you know those things were going to happen? Are you…psychic?" she asked with a smile.
"No," he managed to smile back. "I'm not psychic."
"Then you're off the hook for this one," Grace said.
"Yeah," he said.
"Do you forgive me for masquerading as your daughter?"
Patrick took Grace's hand in both of his and gently squeezed it. "I do," he said.
"Then we're even," Grace smiled.
* * * *