The deep timbre of his voice pulled me from my musings. A patient's room wasn't the place to be contemplating your life choices, anyway. "Are you alright?" It was a simple question, but one with a much more complex answer. I blinked a few times to clear my head, straightened up, and smiled. There was no need to let Guy see what sort of toll this night had taken on me so far.

I wasn't the only one that had been affected by the events of the shift, either. Guy looked exhausted and miserable. I knew he wouldn't accept pain medicine or anything of that sort, but I wished there was something I could do to help. Above all, he looked lonely. That's why I agreed to leave the door open- not something I'd usually do under the circumstances; a lot of important conversations take place in the hallways of an ICU, so it's usually best to keep things closed up. But the desperation in Guy's eyes when he asked tugged at my heart a bit.

The request did seem out of the norm for him, though, making me wonder if he was already starting to spike another fever. It wouldn't be surprising after all the excitement from earlier. When I glanced at the clock, I realized how late- or, rather, early, it was. The night had flown by. The Tylenol from earlier would be fully out of his system by now. But his heart rate wasn't elevated, his breathing was even. Maybe he was just lonely, after all. Plus, his room was right in front of the nurse's station. Having the door open would let me keep a closer watch, to make sure he didn't get into any more trouble.

Speaking of trouble, it made me wonder what exactly had happened between Guy, Marian, and this other Robin. As a naturally nosey person, I was practically dying to know but was torn between curiosity and professionalism. I'd almost decided to just say screw it and ask anyway when Dr. Williams reappeared. "Anesthesia is on their way up," he said, having the common sense to keep his voice low after noticing the open door to Guy's room. He didn't have to elaborate, I knew what to do from there. Time to call report to OR, get Marian ready to roll down. I'd be at home and in bed before they got through with her, though whether I'd be able to sleep was a different thing altogether.

When that was finally done, I thought to sit down and finish up some paperwork. My charting for the night was going to be horrendous, not to mention that I had several required education units that were almost past their due date. There hadn't been any time to even start on those. Before I could sit down, though, the blaring of a bed alarm pulled me to attention.

Of course, it was coming from Guy's room. I don't know why I thought the threat of an alarm would sway him if he decided he was getting out of bed on his own. There he was, standing unsteadily beside the bed, looking confused at the sound.

He just wanted to see the sunrise. Such a simple, wholesome request, I couldn't deny it. Sitting in a chair would probably do him some good, too, so I helped get him up to the chair and situated in prime sunrise viewing position. He was shaky and unbalanced, tall enough that our height difference made the transfer a bit awkward. We made it work, though, and soon enough he was settled in, transfixed by the sky.

It was a beautiful sunrise. Working nights, I often missed both sunrise and sunset. It was the small moments like this that I got to see them, standing in a patient room, enjoying the stillness of the morning before the day shift arrived. Though, a lot of mornings, there wasn't a calm moment to be found for appreciating the painted sky.

So, I stopped, soaking in the calmness. One patient in OR and out of my hands, the other somewhat stable and comfortable. And above all, the quietness- it was refreshing in a way that so few things are. Resting without sleeping, a moment like that space between dreams and the real world. That's what it felt like, bathing in the warm orange light of the sunrise. It felt like falling in love.

I wasn't alone in my thoughts, caught up in the dreamlike quality of the moment. When Guy rested his head on my hand, I thought it might have been an accident. But he didn't move, his temple warm against my fingers. Every nerve in my hand felt electrified, and I could feel a pulse radiating up my arm, though I wasn't sure if it were mine or his. He didn't look at me, keeping his eyes focused on the window.

The firm set of his jaw and tightness around his eyes spoke of the burdens he carried. I wanted to smooth away that tension, to comfort this world-weary man. Irritational, impulsive—not words I would usually use to describe myself. But the contrast of smooth skin and coarse beard as I caressed his face told a different story. It would be a lie to say that I didn't enjoy the way his eyes closed, relaxing into my touch, letting his guard down.

Boundaries are important. And I was crossing every line I had ever set for myself as a nurse. It was too much. Feelings don't matter, mine or his; rules are made for a reason. I needed to get out of there. Out in the hall, I stood for a while, fingers tingling with the ghosts of sensations. The guilty feelings were at war with the warmth and pleasure in my heart. This was definitely going to be a problem.

Trying to shake off the conflicting emotions, I went to look at the assignment sheet for the day. Marian was assigned to Beth, one of our senior ICU nurses. That was good; I knew she could handle whatever the day threw at her. A float would be getting Guy, however. It made sense, in a way; the cross-trained nurses always got the "easier" patients. On paper, Guy was certainly easier than most, probably transferring to the floor within the next day. I wasn't so sure he was a classically easy patient in practice, though. But Bailey had floated to us several times, enough that I thought she'd be okay. She was just a bit shy and timid, not the best choice for someone with Guy's temperament.

Regardless of what I thought, the assignment was made. It was almost never productive to argue with a charge nurse's assignments, especially over something intangible like personality clashes. I would just make sure that Bailey knew what she was dealing with, though I didn't want to scare her, either. It was a fine line between painting an accurate picture of the situation and scaring the living daylights out of a poor float nurse. But Bailey could handle herself. I hoped.

Report took forever, as it always did with a float nurse. I didn't blame Bailey for the millions of questions she had, trying my best to answer them in a factual manner, without inserting my personal opinions or playing up the drama. Lord knew the situation was dramatic enough without embellishment. When we were finally done, Bailey straightened up and said "Okay, let's do this," looking for all the world like she was about to slay a dragon or defeat the Huns.

Guy was right where I had left him, thankfully. I had been fairly confident that he wouldn't try to get up on his own again but was still worried in the back of my mind. He was still sitting there, though, watching as the sun appeared fully in the sky. Bailey faltered a bit when she saw him, shooting me a look that said I hadn't elaborated enough on how attractive he was. She was quick to regain composure, though, as I introduced them.

When she mentioned the CT, I suddenly remembered that I hadn't really explained that to Guy. Crap. I usually tried so hard to keep my patients up to date on their plan of care, but that must have slipped through the cracks somewhere in the madness of the night. I quickly tried to clear up his confusion, powering through the awkwardness. He seemed a little embarrassed himself, which was oddly comforting.

Then it was almost time for me to leave. I told Bailey I wasn't back that night; it would have made her life a lot easier if I was since she wouldn't have to give the full report on Guy to the next nightshift nurse. This also let Guy know that I wouldn't be seeing him that night, potentially ever again, if they ended up sending him to the floor. That thought gave me pause. Could this really be the last moments we would spend together?

I stood in the doorway for a moment after Bailey left, trying to think of something to say. Usually, I was dying to leave after my shift, but something was holding me back. It felt like I wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. So, I offered to help him get back in bed, if only to buy a few more minutes with him. He seemed a bit unsteady when he stood up. I wondered what he was thinking, if he knew that this was probably the end of our short and strange time together.

Thankfully Jacqueline would be there tonight, so if he wasn't sent to the floor she would make sure he was okay. I told him this, not wanting to settle into an awkward silence as I helped him to bed. Once he was all situated, he looked up and me as if he was trying to solve a puzzle. "What's wrong?" He finally asked.

There was no way I could tell him all the thoughts running through my head at that moment, so I tried to dodge the question. That strategy just ended with me rambling on and sounding ridiculous, so I finally made myself shut up and walked away. It wasn't the way I wanted to leave, but I thought I'd embarrassed myself enough for one night.

Clouds had started rolling in on the heels of the beautiful sunrise. That was a good thing; I always slept best when it was raining. Jackie was awake when I got home, doing some chores around the apartment in that weird time before her first shift of the week. She would often get up early in the morning and clean while I was at work, so she could go back to sleep a while before work. Most of the time our schedules didn't line up, except maybe one night a week, so we didn't get to see each other as much as you would think.

Jacqueline took one look at me as I walked in the door before turning off the vacuum and crossing her arms. "Sit, talk, I'll pour you some scotch." I obliged, kicking off my shoes and flopping onto the couch, hugging a pillow and fighting back a new wave of tears. That was the thing about best friends, they knew exactly what you needed without having to say a word. Jackie understood better than anyone could since we worked on the same unit and dealt with the same bullshit day in and day out. She already had some idea of what was wrong, just from the information she picked up at work.

I gratefully took the glass she handed me, taking a small sip of the smoky drink as she settled into her favorite chair, cradling a mug that I knew was filled with strong, black coffee. "So, the mystery man," she said, not a question but a statement.

"Guy." Saying his name made my eyes sting, though I knew I was being absolutely ridiculous. That knowledge made it worse, somehow. Out of the hundreds of patients I'd taken care of, none of them had this kind of effect on me. Why was this one different?

Leaning back in her chair, Jackie eyed me over the rim of her coffee cup. "Okay, Guy. What's so special about him that makes him worth getting upset over?" She got right to the point, no beating around the bush with Jacqueline. It was the question I had been asking myself for days, the one pushed to the forefront of my mind this morning during the sunrise.

There was no good answer. "He's… handsome?" I tried, though we both knew that wasn't it.

"Yeah, but so is Dr. Williams, and you've been turning him down for years." She had a good point there. Honestly, I didn't even notice that Dr. Williams was attractive anymore since his personality was a huge turnoff for me.

I tried again. "Maybe it's the mystery?"

She considered this for a moment, then shook her head. "That might be part of it, but we've had plenty of mysterious and intriguing cases. No, something is different about this one. Is he nice? Funny?"

I thought back to some of our interactions. Neither of those was words I would use to describe him. "Well, I guess you could say he's funny, but not the way you're thinking. He's just very weird. And he seems… Lost."

"Oh, I get it," she seemed satisfied with herself for having apparently figured it out. "He's broken. You want to fix him."

Her words stung a bit, but I could see the truth in them. I did have a thing for fixing problems. Maybe Guy was just that, a problem that needed a solution. "He definitely needs help, that's for sure. It's like he's from another planet or something."

Jackie grinned at that. "Maybe he is! What if he's an alien sent to earth to masquerade as a human and infiltrate our ranks? And you're his ticket in."

"Alright, I'm too tired for this nonsense," I said, standing up and downing the last of my drink, enjoying the smoky burn as it went down. Jacqueline just smiled and said goodnight.

My body was exhausted, but sleep took its time coming. Every time I closed my eyes, Guy was there. Sometimes Marian was there, too. The two of them together. When I finally did sleep, I had nightmares of a faraway land that I'd never seen before, filled with people I'd never met. Except for Guy and Marian; they filtered in and out of my dream, too. There was another person there, one who seemed almost familiar. A man with a wicked smirk and perceptive eyes, watching me as if he knew my every thought and secret.

England, 1193

The journey from the Holy Land was an arduous one, especially for a group of people who were already worn down by the trials they experienced in the desert. Robin kept them going at a breakneck pace, fueled by his burning desire for revenge. His companions grew more and more concerned as they went along, unable to rest for fear that Robin would pull out of reach. No one was quite sure what his plan was once they reached Nottingham, they just knew it would be disastrous to let him go through with whatever he had in mind.

It was useless, though, like trying to talk down a hurricane. Robin was a force of nature, hellbent on vengeance, and there was no one left to stop him. Once upon a time, when he still had something left to live for, the potential consequences of his actions would be enough to stop him in his tracks. Now, there was nothing left. Nothing mattered except the suffering he intended to bring upon the one person left to blame.

After a fight in the forest, he was finally able to lose Much and the gang. The hurt in his best friend's eyes tried to pierce through the haze that had settled over his mind, but Robin shook off any guilt or regret that struggled to the surface. This was not the time for sentimentality. Much was better off staying away from him at this point; there was no need to drag him down with this sinking ship. As Robin broke through the tree line to see Nottingham rising before him, he looked around to make sure no one had kept after him. He needn't have worried. He was alone.

Robin slowed his pace as he entered the city walls, making his best attempt to appear casual. It wouldn't do to be caught before even coming close to the Sheriff. He wove his way through the narrow streets, eyes down to avoid any familiar faces. Maybe that was why he wasn't able to avoid a collision with the girl who seemed to appear out of nowhere. He thought he had been paying attention, yet the next thing he knew he was knocked to the ground.

Quick on his feet as ever, Robin jumped up to see if the person was a friend or foe. She was slight in frame, her brown hair falling loose around her shoulders. Her clothes were very odd, made of materials he'd never seen before and in shapes that were practically indecent. He took in all this in an instant, only to be transfixed when she looked up at him. The bright brown eyes glared in irritation, lit from a fire inside. Then their expression turned to confusion as if she recognized Robin but couldn't quite place him. Robin himself had a similar feeling. There was something so familiar about the young woman, though he was almost certain he had never seen her before.

Before he had a chance to speak, even to apologize, a cry from the crowd rang out. "Hood!" One of the guards had spotted him. Robin took off running, looking back to see that the bright-eyed lady was safe, but she was nowhere to be found. Vanished, as suddenly as she had appeared.