Douglas sank into the chair as Irene returned.

"They all seem rather nice. How do you know them?"

"We all work together," Douglas answered.

She nodded. "That's nice. What do you do?"

"We're a private charter firm. Martin is the captain."

Irene raised her eyebrows. "Really? That must be quite exciting. Is that how you ended up here?"

Douglas nodded. "We were supposed to fly out today, but obviously Martin isn't in any condition to leave the hospital, let alone fly an aeroplane."

Irene giggled.

"What?"

"Nothing, it just explains the personal effects that he came in with. The pyjamas?"

"Oh," Douglas said with relief. "Those are actually Arthur's. He lent them to Martin to wear."

"That was nice of him. And the little otter too. He seems to really care for Martin."

"We all do," Douglas said absentmindedly, patting Martin's hand again.

Irene smiled at him, and Douglas winced inwardly, remembering he was supposed to be Martin's partner.

He wasn't going to kiss him, that was for sure. Not when he was infectious like this. That would be his excuse for not being overly touchy. Besides, not all people in relationships have to be all over each other, all the time. He bit back a smile, thinking of Carolyn and Herc, the former who was still adamant they weren't in a relationship at all.

"We all do," he muttered more quietly, clasping Martin's hand between his own.


A machine beeped, disrupting the moment, and Douglas looked up with concern.

"It's alright," Irene told him. "Just a little bit of a drop in sats."

Irene busied herself with Martin's breathing tube, feeding a smaller tube into it. Douglas didn't want to know what she was doing. As long as Martin was alright, he was content.

Irene finished up and the beeping stopped. Douglas relaxed. He hadn't known that he'd tensed up until then.

Martin's fingers twitched slightly, and Douglas returned to clasping them.

His stomach grumbled loudly, as if to remind him that he still had a body that needed to be taken care of. Douglas frowned at it for reminding him.

He glanced around the room before spotting a clock on the wall. 4:30 already. Where had the day gone? He'd just gotten up to prepare for the flight, and now he was here with Martin in intensive care.

It grumbled again, more loudly.

Irene overhead and looked up from where she was fiddling with Martin's IV line.

"We do have a canteen. It's down on the first floor, near the shop."

The shop that Arthur got the otter from.

Douglas nodded. "Thanks, but..." he trailed off, frowning as he realized something. "I don't think I have any money..." he said slowly, patting down his pockets. And indeed, he didn't. And even if he did, which was unlikely, considering he never kept money on his person when flying because he had to go through security, it probably wouldn't be money they'd accept here. What did they use in Norway for currency anyway?

"Oh, that won't do," Irene tutted, finishing up what she was doing with Martin's arm and snapping her gloves off. "Well, it's almost dinner for Martin here. What would Martin like to eat?" she asked with a knowing glance. They both knew full well Martin would not be eating any time soon if the feeding tube in his nose was anything to go by.

"Oh, Martin's not very picky," Douglas commented, grinning slyly at her as he stroked small circles on Martin's hand. A woman after my own heart.

"Alright then. I'll see what I can do."

And with that she left the room and headed towards the desk, where Douglas could see her chatting with some of the other nurses, Emilie and Thea and someone who he hadn't been introduced to.


Martin's fingers twitched again and Douglas stopped rubbing his hand to set it back down on the bed. Perhaps Martin was displeased at this excessive touching, and was trying to show his displeasure in the only way he was able to.

The monitor said otherwise, Martin's heart rate picking up slightly after Douglas put his hand down.

"Alright then. No need to get excited," he murmured, clasping Martin's hand again.

The monitor settled down, but Martin's fingers continued to twitch slightly. Perhaps he was waking up.

Douglas watched him closely for signs of movement.

Irene's footsteps returned, and Douglas looked up to ask her about it.

"He's moving his fingers. Could he be waking up?"

"Oh, it could be, but the sedative is probably still in his system. It may be a while before he's conscious, if he regains consciousness. Some people just have higher tolerances to meds than others."

Douglas nodded and weaved his fingers through Martin's. It made his hand easier to hold, and this way he didn't have to use as many muscles to help them touching.

He had a feeling he would be spending most of the night doing it, or risk Martin's heart rate rising again.

Martin's eyelids fluttered, but did not open.