Conrad slept like a log.

He had not moved since his last brief awakening in the ITS. His breathing was calm, barely noticeable, and so Nics gaze kept wandering to the monitors he was still wired to since he had been brought up to the internistic ward at noon.
What a paradox: a doctor as a patient in his own department.

Devon had dropped by, Mina, even AJ Austin had made sure that Conrad was recovering well from the dramatic emergency surgery. And that´s what it looked like if you only depended on the monitors alone. The heartbeat was steady, maybe a little slow. Blood pressure in the normal range, albeit a bit low.

But Nic was facing the truth, holding Conrads cold hand in her own warm one for hours to let him feel her closeness.
She was aware how unnatural this quietness was for her otherwise agile, even restless boyfriend. No muscle moved to indicate that Conrad might be dreaming or being close to waking up. His face was pale, except for the unhealthily flushed cheeks, showing a low but persistent fever.

Conrad was seldom sound asleep. Short periods of deep relaxation usually alternated with vivid, sometimes frightening dreams. Often, when Nic awoke at night, he stared at the ceiling with blank, tired eyes as he lay in bed beside her, or was pretending to read a book.

No, seeing Conrad lying that lifeless in a hospital bed was not natural, and Nic could not help but keep her eyes on his face, on his chest, which rose and fell barely noticeably. And on the monitoring screen, that assured her that he did not secretly slip away.

She had pulled the only chair in the room beside his bed to hold his hand, but Conrad seemed to be far away, in a place where she could not reach him. Would he find his way back, or lost himself in the labyrinth of dreams ... or nightmares?


A movement at the door tore Nic out of her gloomy thoughts.

"Nurse Nevin,"
Marshall Winthrops face was pale as his son´s, he was breathing heavily as if he had run.
He stopped dead in the doorway and swallowed.

"I heard about it only a few hours ago und flew back right away."

Conrads father stepped closer tot he bed, but seemed to remain undecided for a few more long seconds. Finally he asked simply
"How is he?"

Nics smile was weary.

"Pretty good, he came through surgery and is stable now."

Was she trying to convince herself? Nic was always on the positive side, always trying to calm down patients' relatives. But here she was a ´relative´ herself. Did not she herself needed encouragement, reassurance?

To her astonishment, the unapproachable Mr. Winthrop seemed to sense this and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"He is strong. I'm sure he'll get through this."
He squeezed her shoulder, then gently put his big hand on his son's. A small smile crossed his face.
"He looks so young."

Nic smiled, too and looked up.

"I'm sure he's glad you're here, Mr. Winthrop."

"Please, call me Marshall."
The two of them shook hands, and to Nic's astonishment the otherwise distant, in Conrad's description cold and unapproachable father held her hand a few seconds longer than necessary and squeezed it gently and reassuringly. In his eyes, the nurse read deep affection, something like sadness and ... shame?

"Nicolette." Marshall's smile widened slightly.

"You look tired, Nicolette. How many hours have you been here?"

Nic slightly shrugged her shoulders, her right thumb subconsciously painting small circles on the back of Conrads lax hand. Marshall pinched his lips.

"Do you not want to get a coffee and something to eat?" he asked precautiously.
Resistance flared up in her tired eyes, but he contiuned in his reassuring deep voice.
"I'll stay with Conrad in the meantime and call you when he wakes up."

"Accept the offer, Nic, you look awful," came a harsh voice from the door.
Mina leaned in the doorway, holding a cup of icechips in her hand.

"Has he still not woken up?" Mina walked around the bed, set the cup on the nightstand, and grabbed Conrad's wrist to feel the pulse.
"Your boyfriend is really a late riser. We should perhaps change his name into Sleeping Beauty."

Her gaze slid to the monitor and Mina put the back of her hand on the sleeping man's forehead. Seemingly cool and uninvolved, Nic felt the deep affection and concern that Mina expressed with these routine gestures.

The nurse grimaced, but when she looked up at Marshall, who was still standing next to her, keeping an eye on the two women, she noticed a teasing pull on his left eyebrow.
"You can rest. I promise you, I'll let you know when something changes."

Nic took a deep breath.
"All right, all right. Coffee sounds really tempting."
She stood up.
"Would you like something, Mr. W ..?" She hesitated. "Marshall?"

He smiled.
"Thanks, I don't need anything," he replied, settling in the chair that Nic had just vacated.

Both women nodded and, with one last look at Conrad's sleeping form, headed off toward the nearest cafeteria.