Every day he went to see her. She looked weak and pale, lying in the bed. Her hair was spread on the pillow behind her, her bright eyes closed for over a year. The hospital gown masked her figure, and if he couldn't see her face, it could have been anyone in that bed. But it wasn't. It was Lucy. Her mother had stayed the first few months, but eventually had to go back to work. She came back almost every weekend, leaving her cell phone, work and home numbers with standing orders to call her at any change, no matter how minor.
They all knew he hadn't worked hard enough on rehab. His leg was still weak, and he needed a cane for all the standing he did in the ER on his shifts. He should have been walking normally by now, but he didn't want to spend any time away from Lucy. He went up there on breaks, just to make sure she was still alive. It'd been close. The words echoed in his head..."It's close, man. Real close." But she was alive...somewhat. She was breathing a bit, but not enough. She fought the respirator for a few short seconds, then slipped back to the way she'd been. It was over a week ago, but it gave him hope. As soon as his shift was over, he went up the stairs, rather than wait for the elevator. He'd sit patiently on a stool by Lucy's bed, holding her pale hand. When Mrs. Knight showed up, she was on the other side of her daughter's bed, gripping her other hand. They didn't look up, look at each other. Their eyes were focused on Lucy.
But today it was just him. He stared at her face, so peaceful. Reaching out carefully, he touched her pale cheek and let his tears fall. "I'm so sorry, Luce..." he whispered. A small knock at the door forced him to turn, and he saw a nurse rolling in a cot.
"Dr. Weaver insisted. Get some rest, Dr. Carter."
He nodded and laid down, pulling a blanket up to his chin, but lay away anyway, watching Lucy, unable to sleep, knowing she would haunt his dreams.