The light was bright. Too bright to be able to open her eyes. She quickly squeezed her eyes shut again. She groaned. Not only was it bright as hell, there was something else. Pain. Terrible pain. Again she tried to open her eyes. And again she did not succeed. She frowned and wanted to raise a hand to her temple to shield her eyes from the brightness, but her hand disobeyed her. It was as if someone was holding her down. Slowly she became aware of sounds around her. She thought she could pick up individual words. Very slowly she raised her eyelids and peered through a small slit. It was bright. So bright that she couldn't make out anything.
"Patient coming to." She winced slightly as a hand was placed on her cheek. "Madam Secretary. Can you hear me?" Very softly, she moaned in pain as her head was gently jerked back and forth. "Ma'am?" She scrunched up her forehead. Where was she? Who was that? Uncomfortable rose in her. Again the voice rang out, but this time it was not directed at her. "Can you dim the lights a bit, please?"
Instantly, her brow relaxed. "Ma'am, can you hear me?" She opened her eyes and looked toward a young man with bright blue eyes. „Answer me, if you hear me." Immediately, unease turned to panic. Her breaths became shorter and more violent. Her heart began to race and her whole body just screamed to run away. Those eyes were far too familiar. "Woah, slow down. It's all good." The man smiled tentatively at her. But she didn't listen to him. She had to get out of here, fast. The man put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. His eyes met hers and she froze. "Ma'am. I'm Dr. Evans. We're on our way to the hospital. You were unconscious..."
Mike knocking on her room door and entered after a short hesitation, although he had received no answer, he stopped in the open doorway and looked at the scene before him. Quietly she lay there. Her chest rose and fell slowly. Deeply exhausted from the examinations performed and the medications administered. He sighed and sat down on the bed that had been moved into the room last night so that he could spend the night with her. All the equipment and tubes had disappeared from the room. The doctor had just told him that she was stable so far and that if everything continued as well as before, she might be able to go home tomorrow.
For a long time he looked at her like this. A long and exhausting day was also behind him. He had already sneaked out of this room early in the morning and gone to the State Department to discuss with Nadine, Daisy and Blake how to proceed. There was one thing they all agreed on right away. The matter had to be kept out of the public eye as much as possible until she was able to make decisions for herself. That morning he had also gone to the White House and talked with the President and Russell. Both had agreed that Deputy Secretary Steven Cushing should step in for now and approved their earlier reached decision. When Conrad asked his secretary to schedule a hospital visit, however, Mike intervened. "Due to respect, I don't think that's such a good idea. It's just going to create unnecessary attention, and frankly, I'm not even that sure how much Bess wants to be visited in her condition in the first place..."
He leaned over and stroked her hand. Where an IV had been a few hours ago, a white band-aid was now stuck, barely contrasting in color with her skin. Softly he whispered, "I'll stay here, Bess. I promise. I won't leave." He would sit here for hours, days or weeks and keeping her company. Slowly, after he had gone to the bathroom attended to her room, he took off his shoes and hung his coat on the hook before lying down on his bed. He watched her. Still her chest rose and fell evenly. He pulled the covers over his shoulders and turned onto his back. His thoughts were all about her. When after a while his thoughts still hadn't calmed down, he reached his hand out from under the blanket and felt for her hand. When he found it, he carefully took it in his hand and stroked the back of her hand soothingly with his thumb. At some point, he had finally drifted off into a restless sleep.
She woke up from the tears streaming down her face. Slowly, she opened her eyes. There was darkness and pain. She drew in her breath sharply as he gripped it with full force. Her nose throbbed. She went to raise her hand to wipe the tears from her cheek, realizing that someone was holding her hand. Immediately, a new wave of anxiety washed over her. The thought of someone sleeping with her stirred unwelcome memories in her. She winced a few times as she tried to sit up, as a sharp pain ran through her body. Spasmodically, she searched her mind for an explanation. What had happened? Where was she?
Gradually, some memories came back. The doctor who had had Andrew's eyes had told her that she had been taken to the hospital, that she had been checked for further injuries, and that they could find nothing troubling. Mike and Nadine had been with her, and Blake. Of course her Blake had been there. When Mike and Nadine had gone to get coffee, he had collapsed in the chair next to her bed, crying his eyes out, and she had comforted him. Had held his hand and talked to him soothingly. She gritted her teeth. How long had she been going through this? Had been there for others, had listened to them and calmed them down? While she herself felt like crying. She had never let on. Had never let on how she was really feeling. Pressed her lips together or screamed into a pillow at home.
Ignoring the pain, she flipped back the covers and pulled her legs over the side of the bed. At that moment, she felt something moist sticky flow over her lip. Ignoring the nausea, she hurried into the adjoining bathroom and closed the door behind her. As she flicked on the light, she cringed at her own reflection. Her hair hung down in greasy strands, her eyes were undermined, her swollen nose glowed blue, and blood ran down her face in a thick trickle. She swallowed. This was the first time she had seen herself. Carefully, she raised a hand to her nose and touched it gently. Immediately, tears welled up in her eyes.
His eyes were full of anger. She dared not move, fearing every moment that he would. Just as he had done so infinitely many times before. In the background she saw Mike, standing transfixed. How she wished she could have spared him this. Her focus slid back to him. Andrew. Her husband. She swallowed and before she saw him move, she heard the bang. The burning was there immediately...
She winced as she remembered the bang that had sounded when his hand had hit her cheek. Taking a deep breath in and out, she focused on the fact that he wasn't here, here she was alone. Behind the door was Mike. That was what she had asked him to do. She looked in the mirror and searched for the imprint his hand had left, but found nothing. Maybe it was the blood, or the fact that it had been two whole days. She closed her eyes. Wanted to forget the memories of the evening. When she opened her eyes again, she carefully pulled her shirt over her head, slipped out of her pants, and then slipped off her underwear as well. Slowly she moved toward the shower and let the water run.
How long she stood there, letting the water run over her, she could no longer say. At some point she washed her hair, shaved, carefully rinsed the last remnants of blood, tears and sweat from her body and then turned off the water. Her nose was fortunately not bleeding too much anymore and she was able to dry her body with one of the white hospital towels. It wasn't until she was about to hang it up that she saw the red marks. A quick glance in the mirror made her realize it wasn't her nose. Silently she cursed and looked down at her legs. She had managed to cut herself with the razor again. "Damn!"
She swallowed. Hastily, she wrapped herself in her towel and pressed the small towel to the cut, the razor still in her hand.
He woke up when the warmth next to him had disappeared. He opened his eyes cautiously and looked around. It took him a while to get used to the darkness, but then he managed to make out the outline of the room. It was still deep in the night and only a few lights from the street lamps falling into the room through the drawn curtains. Slowly he sat up as he noticed that she had disappeared and the bed beside him was empty and crumpled.
After a brief moment of just sitting there wondering where she was, he looked around the room again. This time he noticed the beam of light under the door to the bathroom as well as the sound of running water. Determined, he pulled his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Standing in front of the door, he called her name a few times, but received no answer each time. After receiving no response even after the third knock, he slowly opened the door.
He shuddered at the sight of her. Wrapped only in a towel, she stood there. Hair wet, bright blue nose, tears smeared on her face. He had to swallow. Her hands and the small towel she was holding were stained red. In her other hand she held a razor. When he had entered the room, she had turned her head toward him and just stared at him, not moving. "Bess?"