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He almost choked, at releasing the breath he had been holding. What should he do? She was standing there in a halo of hospital-light wearing a surprisingly demure outfit, blinking rapidly but not speaking, her hands nervously fiddling with her skirt. He could hear the sounds of her swallowing, as she gazed at something below his eye-level.

"Sharona," he stammered, "Is it really you?"

He looked so… sickly and feeble, like he had aged ten years, putting her on the verge of collapse. Now there was a twinkle to her eyes, which was due to the onset of tears.

"Yes. It's me, Adrian," she said quietly, as the first tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it quickly with the back of her hand, and then straightened out her skirt again. Her choice of outfit this time was much more… modest than usual, but she knew that it would make Adrian more comfortable.

He watched Sharona attempt to regain her composure, but it was rapidly slipping. Why was she crying? Was it because she heard of his condition possibly worsening, or was it because of something else? His mouth became cottony, and it suddenly became hard to breathe. Say something, Sharona. Please.

She timidly began to approach his bedside, avoiding any eye contact with her former employer.

"I'm… so sorry, Adrian. Can you ever forgive me for what I did to you?"

Eye contact was made, and now she was sobbing. He quickly glanced away from her, looking out the window. How could he possibly respond to that? What could he say? She had abandoned him, had left him for dead. She hadn't called or left a number, even to check up on him. But now she was here. She had come back. For good? He looked back at her, now beside the bed.

"Are you staying?" he said guardedly.

More tears. More awkward silence. This wasn't good. She squatted down a bit, putting her face at eye level with his. She touched his icy hand with her own warm one, gazing at him sadly.

"I-I—can't," she blurted. "Benjy—he's still in New Jersey. Captain Stottlemeyer told me about you, and things, and I wanted to come see you."

"Why can't you—just—stay?" the detective responded, straightening his back. "If you can't pay for—I can buy Benjy's plane ticket, then you won't have t—"

"I'm still married to Trevor," she interrupted.

The subject had to change fast, for she didn't know how much more guilt she could take.

"How have you been feeling?" she inquired hollowly, rubbing his hand. "You look good." She attempted a smile. It wasn't very convincing though.

The detective was caught off-guard. He was prepared to fight for her return, and all she could do was pretend the subject had never been brought up in the first place.

"Sharona, what would be so hard about… coming back? I'm… sick without you."

She took her hand off his, her breaths wavering with sobs.

"It's—I—Trevor wouldn't want to leave New Jersey, and Benjy needs a father—"

"Is that it? You're doing this for Benjy? What kind of a father has Trevor been, anyway? I'd make a better father than he wou—"

His voice trailed off, as he realized the context of his words. Did he really mean that? He had to correct his previous assertion. No use confusing her to no end….

"I—well, what I meant to say was—aren't you doing this for yourself at all? Why put yourself through it again if you're not happy?"

"I wa—I am happy."

He looked at her pointedly as she corrected her slip-up.

"No you're not," he said. "You're miserable… just like me."

A coughing jag began, ending with the spitting of some mucousy material into the spit cup. Sharona watched him in horror, then decided to change the subject for good.

"Can't we just talk about something positive? We have plenty of time to discuss negative things…."

"Plenty of time?" Adrian smiled at her, hopeful.

The return gaze shot his hopes down.

"Now, you know that's not what I meant. I took off work for two days to come here. Today and tomorrow. Please don't make this harder than it is."

She leaned over his bed, looking at the material he had coughed up, and smiled at him.

"It's a good color. You'll be sent home soon." She patted his hand as she straightened up again, to watch him with reddened eyes.

"Why didn't you leave me a number—anything at all—to contact you?"

"It—it would have been too hard to stay away, then," she responded meekly.

Damnit, all this emotion and guilt and shame was hard on her psyche. It was piling up, second by second, as her visibly weakened boss gazed up at her morosely. She didn't want to give in, and change her life again. She just had to try a little bit longer with Trevor; maybe he'd become the husband she wanted him to be. No, he would never change, she knew it, and it only hurt her more to feel so helpless.

She went to the foot of his bed and examined his charts, flipping through the pages idly. Hopefully she could keep the topic from sinking to the pits of despair once more, by telling him good news about his condition.

The charts were shocking. In the past three days, his condition had deteriorated rapidly, reaching the very bottom the night before. He had been receiving antibiotics, IV drips, and visitors for those days, but the pneumonia had only worsened. There was no good news to tell him. Maybe she should call off work for a few more days. He was really in bad shape….

"So, am I going to die?" he cracked hollowly, faking a smile.

Oh, God, she was going to give the results away with a look. Better smile fast.

"No, silly; you'll be fine." She flashed him a fraudulent grin.

"I saw you while you were looking at those," he said, pointing at the charts with a pale finger. "You looked worried. Wh—what do they say? Tell me what they say."

"You know, you're looking really good. Your breathing is normal, and you're not wheezing or gulping for air, and your spit-up is a good color—"

"What does it say, Sharona?" he demanded, propping himself up straighter with his elbows. "Why won't you tell me?"

"Okay, okay," she sighed, holding up her hands. "You haven't been doing so good. But I swear the charts will show an improvement for today. I definitely think you've gotten through the worst of it."

"Do you think it's because you returned?" he snapped.

She stared at him in silence, unable to respond.

"If that's so, why don't you stay? Do you want to be the reason for my dea—"

"That's enough, Adrian. Would you like to make me feel any worse about what I did? I'm sorry! I can't say it enough. I don't know how to convince you that I'm sorry!"

"Stay."

"I sold my house. I have nowhere to live, and I don't need another nasty divorce—"

"You could stay with m—" he began to say, but cut himself off. Would he be willing to live with her? Ehh, that was pushing it a bit. Her and her son, using his bathroom, sleeping... where? Where would they sleep? It was a one-bedroom apartment. He saw Sharona's shocked stare, and restarted his statement.

"You could stay with your sister Gail for awhile, until you're back on your feet. That'll be in no time. I'll get back on the job again, and everything will be like it was."

She shook her head. "I can't restart my life again! I've already restarted it three times now in getting remarried and moving back in with Trevor! You can't just expect me to drop everything for you, Adrian! I have a son! I have a life!"

"Well, I don't."

Oh, no, the tears were threatening to come again. Why was he so good at eliciting these emotions from her? Even Trevor couldn't make her feel so guilty and crappy and ashamed of herself.

She had returned to San Francisco to see him the moment she learned of his ailment. She had bought the plane ticket herself, quite a hefty sum. But this wasn't about money. It was about trying to move on, trying to fix things between her and her ex—well, husband now. That had completely failed as of yet. And now Adrian was putting her on this chronic guilt-trip that'd last her the rest of her natural life. Had she done nothing right?

"How about a compromise, Adrian? I'll stay a few more days; would that make you feel any better?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe what? I should stay a while longer, or maybe you'll feel better?"

"Uhm… both."

Sharona pulled out her cell phone and called her employer, requesting a couple more days off, if she happened to need them. She contacted Benjy as well, instructing him to tell Trevor it was an emergency and she had to stay.

The nurses brought Adrian his lunch, and he seemed to markedly improve at eating the bland meal in front of him. Captain Stottlemeyer and Dr. Kroger arrived after lunchtime, and were stunned to see Sharona.

"Sharona," the captain said, motioning to the hallway, "can we talk… outside?"

Adrian was confused. Had she come on her own volition? Or had he told her to come back? He hadn't considered his comment to Stottlemeyer.

The pair went out into the hallway, and made their way towards the nurses' station. Stottlemeyer stopped and turned around to face her.

"I'm really happy that you came back so soon. He already looks one hundred percent better. You shoulda seen him yesterday; I was truly worried about him then."

"I'm sure it's not because of me; he's just coming out of it is all." She ran a hand through her hair uncomfortably.

"No, I'm pretty sure it's because of you. He's been in despair, Sharona. Hasn't been on a case since you left. I'll tell ya, the unsolved crimes are piling up."

"You're kidding me? Not one?"

"Nope," he replied, frowning.

"If nothing else, could you just help him get back on his feet again, regain the will to live?"

"I had originally planned to stay for two days, but I increased it to a couple more. I hate seeing him like this."

"So you're not staying for good?"

"Captain," she remarked, "I got remarried. Benjy needs a father, and Trevor can only suffice if and only if we live in New Jersey."

"I hope you know what you're doing," he responded. "I hope things work out with you and… Trevor."

They returned to the room looking flushed and embarrassed. Monk stared at them as they walked in, studying their expressions to reveal the topic of their conversation. Well, of course it was about him, that's why they had to leave the room to discuss it.

The day passed quickly with the three visitors present. Sharona attempted to refrain from talking, and all Dr. Kroger did was talk, asking Adrian all kinds of questions about his feelings and thoughts, basically everything he didn't want to talk about in front of his former employee.

When it came time to leave, Stottlemeyer turned to Sharona. "Where did you stay last night? Did you get a hotel room?"

The nurse definitely didn't want to discuss this in front of Adrian. He'd probably be offended that she was breathing his air and using his bathroom and laundry facilities. She cleared her throat a few times and crossed her legs, hoping the captain would get the point that she didn't want to discuss the subject.

"Where did you stay, Sharona?" Monk asked. "You flew in last night, right? It had to have been really late when you arrived."

"Yes," she replied quickly, sighing deeply and flipping her hair backwards. The three men stared at her, waiting for her to respond.

"Okay," she blurted, feeling defeated. "I stayed at your apartment," she said, looking at Adrian timidly.

Sharona was giving him a timid look? How could she have changed so much since he had last seen her almost half a year ago? It was probably that damn Trevor, beating her emotions down until she was as meek and hesitant as he.

"How did you get in?" he asked. It disturbed him to know that she was able to enter his personal home without his being present.

"I still have your house key." She took out the key, flashing it to him. "Don't worry; I'll return it for real this time," she said, laughing nervously. Oh, damn it to hell. Monk's face visibly fell at the remark, and Dr. Kroger put a hand to his own face. Why did she have to say something that made him feel worse?

She sighed. "Well, you know what I meant; you'd probably be nervous, knowing there was a key to your house somewhere out there…."

"No, I had actually forgotten you had one."

"I'm sorry."

"You can stay there, if you want," he said, shifting uncomfortably. "Just don't—" She looked up at him, shocked. "—well, I don't want you to get sick too, just—don't touch the—"

"It's okay, Adrian. If I get sick it's because I deserve it. Now you, you didn't deserve it. I'll just get a hotel; I've done nothing to merit a free stay."

He shook his head. If she felt so bad, why didn't she just stay again and make it up to him? She was making comments that he could see himself making, and it irked him to no end.

"Don't say that," he responded. "You can stay at my hou—"

"Well, I'm going to head out now," Stottlemeyer said, rising to his feet from the chair. Dr. Kroger stood up as well.

"Yes, I'll be leaving as well, Adrian. You've definitely improved a great deal since yesterday. I'll see you again in a couple of days, whether it's here or at your home; is that alright with you?"

Dr. Kroger was always so polite. Didn't he just want to yell sometimes, to scream sense into his mind? It had to be an impossible job, watching his patient sinking to the depths of sickness and insanity, lying in a hospital bed with blue lips, spitting up green gobs, and making everyone ill at ease.

They said their goodbyes, and the two men headed out. Sharona wanted to follow suit; any more time with Adrian alone tonight would be too nerve-wracking.

"Well, I'm gonna head out too, Adrian. Thanks for letting me stay at your place. I'll be back in the morning, alright?"

She stood up and smiled, clutching her purse in her hand. She really really wanted to hug him, not because she thought he'd appreciate it, but because she wanted to. Before he could say a word, she leaned over the bed and embraced him.

"I'm so sorry about all of this, and I hope you feel better very soon," she murmured into Adrian's ear. Why was she hugging him, only to leave? He was utterly confused.

Adrian wasn't alone for very long afterward, for the doctors ran some tests and found that he had indeed improved a great deal that very day. Things were indeed looking up, in the case of the detective's health, at least….

That night in his room Adrian couldn't sleep. All he could think about was Sharona's return, and how uncomfortable and standoffish she had seemed to him the entire visit. It hadn't been long enough for her to act like such a… stranger with him, and it made him very uneasy. Trudy, well, she had been gone for years, but she was still the same… although, well... nevermind. Times had changed, his relationship with his former nurse had changed, and damn it, he hated change.

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