Ted stood at the desk at the front of the hospital, trying not to let the situation cause him any further anguish. He hadn't slept a wink since Dougal had left in the ambulance and this woman, this kind nurse, was only doing her job, he had to remember that. Besides, he was meant to be a face of the community. He couldn't be shouting and swearing at civil servant.

"You don't understand," he said, as measured as possible. "Dougal doesn't have a next of kin. He doesn't have a family. He lives at the parochial house under my care. We are his family."

"Are you his carer?" asked the nurse.

"You'd be surprised, but no," said Ted. "I'm not his carer. He, apparently, has full mental capacity. But he doesn't have a next of kin. Both of his parents are dead," he explained.

"Everyone has a next of kin," the nurse said, arching her eyebrow at him.

Ted composed himself. "The church is his next of kin. Would you like me to phone the Bishop?" he asked. Usually, he avoided Len Brennan at all costs, but nothing, not even the Bishop, would stand in the way of him seeing Dougal. There was just no question.

The nurse looked stuck between a rock and a hard place. "Let me just take a look at Father McGuire's files," she said, and Ted struggled not to roll his eyes. Dougal's medical records wouldn't have changed in the ten minutes since she last checked them.

"Can I speak to a head nurse, or a matron, please?" he asked, as sweetly as possible. "I'm sure you understand this is a difficult situation. My friend, my best friend, has gone to hospital with a condition that I know nothing about. You won't let me see him. You won't tell me if he's okay. At this point, I don't even know if he's alive," said Ted, his voice cracking slightly. He looked down at a spot on the desk to compose himself.

The nurse looked up at him and softened. "Let me speak with the matron, Father," she said, gently. "I won't be long."

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely there.

The nurse hurried off behind her station and Ted took this as an opportunity to pull himself together. Dougal was going to be fine, he told himself. He had to be fine. Whatever had happened with Dougal, the doctors and nurses would look after him and he would fine.

A few minutes later, a different nurse appeared at the desk. "Father Crilly," she said. "I understand you're here to see a patient, is that right?"

"Yes," nodded Ted. "Father Dougal McGuire. He lives with me at the parochial house. He was taken in an ambulance last night because he had a fever and bad stomach pains. We'd given him medicine earlier in the day because we thought he had indigestion," Ted explained.

"And he doesn't have a next of kin, is that correct?" the matron asked, clicking the computer mouse.

"Both his parents have died," Ted said, sadly. "We…" Ted gulped. How could he find the words to explain exactly what Dougal was to him? He was his curate, yes, and most importantly a friend. But to Ted, Dougal was more than that. "He's my…" Ted trailed off.

The matron reached over the desk and placed her hand on Ted's. "I understand," she said softly. "According to the paramedics, he was saying your name over and over again, almost like a mantra," she explained.

Ted chuckled. "Was he now?"

The matron nodded. "Can I see your driver's license, please?" she asked.

Ted's brow furrowed as he got out his wallet. "Of course, why's that?" he asked, flipping it open and taking out the card.

The matron took the license from his hands and held it up to the computer in front of her. "So, I can see you both live at the same address. That way, I can admit you see him." Ted's body flushed with relief as she handed the card back to him. "This way, please, Father Crilly."

Ted followed the matron as she walked down the corridor. They passed ward after ward, Ted wondering which one Dougal was in, trying to deduce which ward was for which ailment. Eventually, the matron opened the door to a ward and Ted followed in after her. She approached the desk and began speaking to the nurse there.

"This is Father Ted Crilly," she explained, pointing to Ted. "He's to be named as Father Dougal McGuire's temporary next of kin until he wakes up and can verify it himself."

Ted's heart began to beat. "He is alright, isn't he?" he asked, leaning between the two nurses.

"Oh yes, Father," the nurse at the desk said. "Father McGuire has had his appendix removed. The surgery went well and he's recovering. He's sleeping at the moment."

Ted was once again flooded with relief. Appendicitis, thank God it was nothing more serious than that. One of his friends had had appendicitis when he was at school and made a full recovery.

"Can I see him?" asked Ted.

"Of course," nodded the matron. "But not for too long. He'll need his rest. And official visiting hours aren't until this evening."

"I'll be back then as well," Ted told her firmly.

"As you wish, Father," smiled the matron.

"He's in room four," said the nurse, pointing to a nearby door.

"Thank you," Ted said to the both of them and walked over to room four. Through the small window at the door, he could see Dougal laying on his back fast asleep. He quickly opened and closed the door behind him, aching to be near him. He walked around to the other side of the bed where Dougal's head lay cocked to one side and pulled the plastic chair right up to the edge.

"Dougal," he whispered, as the young lad slept soundly. "I don't know if you can hear me but I'm here."

Dougal said nothing. His lips were pursed slightly as he gently breathed in and out. Ted, once again, brushed Dougal's hair back from his forehead. No fever, Ted thought. That was good. Then, on seeing his delicate milky skin, he pressed his lips to Dougal's forehead, lingering there for a moment, inhaling his scent.

"God, I was so worried," Ted told him, still whispering lightly. "I was so, so worried about you, Dougal. Don't you dare worry me like that again," he said, his eyes filling with tears.

Ted took Dougal's limp hand in his, clasping it between his finger as if he were about to pray, kissing Dougal's palm and fingers, pressing them to his mouth just to feel the gentle heat of his body having returned to normal. Ted closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the feeling of Dougal's skin against his lips.

"Lord, allow your healing on Dougal," Ted whispered against Dougal's skin. "Touch his soul with your compassion, with your courage and love. Bring health to his body and spirit, give him strength and touch gently his life which you have created. Now and forever, amen."

It hadn't been his best prayer, but it was what he wanted to say in the moment, which had to count for something, Ted thought.

Then, Dougal stirred, and Ted guided his hand gently back to the hospital bed.

"Dougal," he said, looking down at his friend. "I'm here, Dougal," he cooed.

Slowly, Dougal's eyelids fluttered open. It took a few blinks for them to open fully, and even then, Ted realised that Dougal was probably so drugged up that he wouldn't have a clue who or where he was.

"Ted," Dougal said, softly, then closed his eyes again for a second. Ted thought that Dougal had gone back to sleep, but his eyes opened again. "What happened?" he asked.

"You had appendicitis," Ted explained. "You're in the hospital. You've had surgery to have it removed."

"Am I going to be okay?" Dougal asked, his voice hoarse.

"Yes, Dougal," Ted nodded, feeling the emotion rise in his throat. "You're going to be fine. Having your appendix removed is very normal."

"What about you?"

"Have I had my appendix removed?"

"No," said Dougal, shaking his head slightly and licking his lips, searching for moisture. "Are you alright?"

Ted smirked. "I'm fine," he said. "Would you like some water?"

Dougal nodded.

Next to the bed was a table, with a small jug of water, a cup, and a straw. Ted poured Dougal a cup and put in the straw, angling it to Dougal who sipped at it, lifting his head off the pillow for a moment.

"Better?" asked Ted.

Dougal nodded.

"How do you feel?"

"My tummy hurts a bit but not like before. It feels different," he explained.

"You're probably just sore from the operation," explained Ted. "Nothing to worry about."

Dougal closed his eyes again, as if digesting Ted's words, then opened them. "When can I come home?" he asked.

"Soon," Ted said, in a soothing voice, brushing his hand against Dougal's forehead again.

"I want to come home," Dougal said, his voice wavering as he choked out a sob. He grabbed Ted's hand on the bed and squeezed it tightly. "I want to go home," he said, fully crying now. Ted was reverted back to last night, holding Dougal in his arms as he cried into his chest. It made Ted ache in a way he couldn't express. How he wished he could hold Dougal now against him, pressing him close and soothing him in the way he only knew how.

Ted raised Dougal's hand to his lips and kissed it. "I know," he said, wanting to cry himself, but resolving to be strong for Dougal. "And you will, very soon. When I go, I'll ask when I can bring you home."

"Will you come back?" Dougal asked, sniffing thickly.

Ted reached out and wiped away the tear that was hanging off the bridge of Dougal's nose. "Visiting hours are this evening. I'll be back then."

Dougal nodded. "Okay," he whispered. "I think I need to sleep now," he said, his lids growing heavy.

"I'll see you later," replied Ted, but Dougal had already fallen into a deep, deep sleep.