Sharona arrived at the hospital when visiting hours began, looking pale and withdrawn, with red rims around her eyes. She had really packed on the makeup to cover up that aspect of her appearance, Adrian noted. Had she been crying?

"What's wrong, Sharona?" he asked her, as she sat down.

"Oh, don't worry about me," she replied, attempting a tight-lipped smile.

"It looks like you've been crying…."

"Does it?" she snapped. "Because I haven't, for your information."

Her response was too harsh, and she knew it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. Well—it's not that I was cr—" she began to explain.

"It's okay," he said. Wow, he looked so much better than even the day before. She went to the end of the bed to study his charts. They had dramatically improved.

"Wow, Adrian, I'll bet they'll be sending you home today. Your charts are great."

"Really?"

He hadn't coughed at all since yesterday morning, and it seemed strength had returned to him. He had taken a shower in the morning before visiting hours and changed his own clothes, and knew that he was feeling better. It was because of Sharona; he knew that.

"Yeah, your breathing rate is—"

She stopped in mid-sentence, watching him get out of bed.

"What are you doing? You can't do that!" she said to him, staring at him in shock.

"I'm getting out of bed. I needed to stretch my legs. And yes, I can do that."

He stood in front of her in the flimsy robe, with his slender, hairy legs exposed, and he didn't care. He didn't even try to cover up; he just smiled at her, proud of himself? Was he on medication again? He seemed so… different since she had last worked for him. Less… scared to death, maybe? Maybe it was the hope. She hated to make him regress again, because it seemed like he had made so much progress. God, he's hairy, she mused. I've always liked hairy men…. Trevor, he's like a baby…. Oh God, what was her problem! Was she checking him out?

Adrian watched Sharona's expression change from the initial shock of his emergence to one of keen interest. She was eyeing him up and down, blatantly, as he stood in his hospital gown down to his knees, with legs and arms exposed to the world. This had to be some sort of joke, right? His assistant had always been so… interested in… everyone else…. And right now, he was that someone else. He shivered, realizing how vulnerable he was, as he felt the breeze hit the bare skin on his back. He was practically naked in front of this… strange new woman. Okay, back to bed….

He backed up, hitting the IV machine as Sharona averted her gaze to the window. As she looked away with pure embarrassment, he slid back under the covers, readjusting his gown and the sheets to cover up once more.

What had happened to them? Everything had always been so comfortable, so friendly between them, and now he felt vulnerable in front of her. Of course, he had never worn a hospital gown in front of her….

Sharona stared out the window, feeling delirious. Since when did he become an object of interest for me? she asked herself. Granted, he was a much nicer man than Trevor, but he was—well, had been—her employer. I wish Trevor could show me the kind of dedication that Adrian has for his dead wife, she thought bitterly. He's definitely the most devoted husband ever. Suddenly her cell phone vibrated in her purse, making her jump involuntarily.

"Hello?" she said, after getting her phone out and opening it. She turned to glance at Adrian, who was gaping at her from his spot on the bed, securely under the covers. Apparently he hadn't forgotten about her not-so-subtle nuances earlier. Hopefully her phone conversation would steer his concentration elsewhere, for she already felt paranoid about the confrontation.

"Hello, Sharona. Where are you?" It was Trevor.

She changed her tone of voice to fit the situation. Casual, and a bit sarcastic.

"Oh, hey, Trevor. I'm at the hospital."

"Which one?"

"Didn't Benjy tell you? I'm visiting my old boss; he's sick."

"Why didn't you tell me where you were going? I was worried about you."

She scoffed silently. Worried? He had been at the bar, partying it up when she had left the house.

"You had gone out for the night. I wasn't about to wait twelve hours for you to come home."

"You could've at least left a note."

"Well, I was in a hurry. It was an emergency."

Adrian attentively listened to Sharona's end of the conversation, noticing her drastic change in mood. She was now irritated and annoyed, standing by the window staring off in the distance as she talked to Trevor on the phone. By her posture and her tone of voice, things apparently weren't kosher in the Howe house.

"You know what? I'm not sure…. Since when did you become so concerned?"

A pause, as she switched the phone to her other ear and tensed up.

"Oh my God! Are you kidding me?"

Something was very wrong. Adrian was morbidly curious now, but didn't want to make his interest too obvious. He continued to watch the back of Sharona, as she fidgeted in place in front of the window.

"When were you gonna tell me? Oh God…. Is she there now?"

Sharona wrote down a phone number on a small scrap of paper and soon ended the conversation with her husband. She looked over at Adrian with fear in her eyes.

"My mother's… in the hospital," she blurted. "She's… had another stroke."

Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. He sat up straighter in the bed, preparing to slip out and go to her, but remembered the last little… situation, and stayed put.

"I'm so sorry, Sharona," he managed to say. "Is she going to be alright?"

"They aren't sure," she cried. "She's unconscious right now. I'm—I'm gonna call there now, is that okay?" She began fiercely dialing the numbers from the sheet of paper, and held the phone to her ear.

"That's fine," he said. "You don't have to ask permiss—"

"Hello? Hello, this is Sharona Fleming, I'm calling about my mom. Cheryl Fleming, she had a stroke earlier today…."

Adrian watched as her body seemed to loosen up. Maybe it was good news; she did seem to be relieved. Sharona hung up with the hospital soon afterwards, and turned to Adrian with a slight smile.

"Well, she's regained consciousness… but they aren't sure of the extent of the damage. She hasn't spoken yet…. She'll probably be released tomorrow or the next day, they said…."

"That's good to know, that she's conscious," Adrian replied. "She'll be alright; she's a strong woman."

"Thank you for being patient with me," Sharona said, approaching his bed.

"Wh—you don't have to say that—" he began to say, taken aback by her comment. Why did she feel the need to apologize for a family emergency? She most certainly had changed.

The blonde walked over to a nearby chair and collapsed heavily onto it, holding her head in her hands. Had he said something to upset her? She wasn't usually this… sensitive about things. She hadn't been nearly as emotional when her mother had had her first stroke….

"Wh-what's wrong, Sharona?" he asked her, trying to see her face from his spot on the bed. "D-did I say somethi—"

She looked up at him, and tears ran down her cheeks as she began to sob.

"N-no, Adrian, it's not you. It's me! My own mother—I'm a nurse, for God's sake, and I didn't see it comin'. It's all my fault. I didn't notice the warning signs…."

"Now, you know that's not true. You're a great nurse," Adrian responded. He leaned toward Sharona, where she was sitting in the chair beside his bed, and wiped a tear off her face.

She gazed at him with disbelief. "How can you, of all people, say that? I practically left you for dead, and you could have die—" she cut herself off quickly –"my mother's already had one stroke, so it's not like it came out of the blue. I'm useless."

She put her head down, covering her face with her hands as she began sobbing freely.

Adrian was highly disturbed. Sharona—his rock, his caretaker—was falling apart right before his eyes. He felt completely helpless to do anything, and had no idea what to say to her.

"You're not useless, Sharona. You—you raised a great son, you—took care of me for all those years, you take care of your mother and the patients where you work…."

"How can you be so nice to me, when I've been so lousy to you?" she sobbed, looking up again as she opened her purse for a tissue. "Ya know what—I don't deserve you, Adrian. I deserve someone who treats people worse than I do, like Trev—"

Oh, God. She had said it. She had just told Adrian, more or less, how things were actually coming along with her husband. Her comment was met with a stunned silence, as Adrian gaped at her, opening and closing his mouth with no words coming out. The reaction to what she had said was expected, but she still felt fresh tears coming on.

Adrian had to say something back, now that the subject had been brought up.

"You do deserve me, Sharona. You've always been good to me. Doesn't it prove it, that when you leave I get sick? I never got sick when you were here—"

"That's just me doing my job, Adrian. No matter what, I still got paid for being your nurse."

"—You saved my life, Sharona. I was homebound, and—"

"I'm not the one you should be thankin' for that. Stottlemeyer hired me, when he saw how you were feeling. You were capable of surviving all along; you just needed a little encouragement."

"—And my encouragement was you, just like it is now. I'm better now. Please stay, Sharona. Trevor doesn't deserve you."

As soon as the response had left Adrian's mouth, Sharona began bawling. Her nose dripped as she searched feverishly in her purse for tissue, but Adrian quickly handed her the box of Puffs on his nightstand. This only made things worse. She actually had to leave the room because she was so embarrassed to be crying so openly in front of her former employer. With a red face and ruined makeup, she stared at herself in the hospital restroom. What had happened to her 'tough' days, when she leant a shoulder to cry on, when she convinced Adrian he wasn't crazy, when she pushed her employer to try new things?

Adrian was shocked by Sharona's display of emotions. It wasn't her mother's condition anymore; now he alone was making her cry. He watched her deplete the entire box of Puffs as she tried to control her tears and her runny nose. How he wished she weren't so… unsanitary—such a potential for germs, as everyone else was as well, for all he wanted to do right now was jump out of bed and hold her and wipe every tear away until she was happy again….

The detective watched her as she attempted to stop crying, as she shot out of the chair and left the room. He couldn't comfort her; he couldn't do anything for her. All he could do was sit and worry about the germs that might be on her. Why couldn't he be like everyone else: dependable and supportive and comforting—just normal? He grabbed the Puffs box and looked into the slit at the top, seeing the balled-up tissue balls inside. In those tissues were tears she had spilled—because of him, and he felt overwhelmed with guilt as he tossed the box into the trash can.

Sharona returned from the bathroom in about ten minutes, and Adrian noticed right away that she had reapplied her makeup and was attempting to make a convincing smile.

The morning and afternoon continued with idle conversation, a bit more than yesterday, but the subject of Trevor, Sharona staying, or Sharona's mother did not surface again in that time. Even though Adrian had practically spilled his guts to her, and she had done the same to him, the relationship was still strained, and both could sense it and were uneasy. They both knew that there was that underlying problem of staying that would not be agreed upon, and neither wanted the flood of emotions to come back upon mention of that particular subject.

Stottlemeyer came in shortly before visiting hours ended, hoping he'd have missed the bulk of the conversation that Adrian and Sharona needed to have.

He walked in to see Sharona sitting on a chair a distance from Adrian's bedside. There was a strained silence between them, he noted, and he took a seat in the other visitor chair.

He was soon informed of Cheryl Fleming's stroke, and could see that Monk was definitely healthier today. It was extremely uncomfortable sitting in the same room with the pair, for they stayed silent most of the time. Had something happened earlier in the day? How was everything going to pan out in the end? He left after only about a half an hour of visiting.

The doctor arrived about 45 minutes before the end of visiting hours, checking Adrian's vital signs and respiratory information.

"Would you like to be released tonight?" he told the stunned Adrian. "You're practically cured."

Adrian looked over at Sharona to see her reaction. She fidgeted at his intent gaze. Yes, it would be an uncomfortable night with her in the apartment, but maybe, just maybe he could win her back, could make her stay…. Trevor was treating her badly, that he knew. All she needed was a little encouragement, just like he had needed.

"Uhm, yes… I'd like that," he replied.

"Well, alright then. We're going to release you tonight. I'm also going to give you a prescription for amoxicillin, which you should take twice a day for the next week, just to be sure the bacteria are wiped out."

He wrote out the prescription on a sheet of paper and handed it to the detective. The man soon departed and Adrian was left to stare at the hospital's closet, where his clothes were hanging.

"Uhm…."

Sharona stood up. "It's okay; I'll wait in the hallway while you change."

"Alright. Just…don't leave, okay?"

"I won't." She grabbed her purse and left the room, shutting the heavy door behind her. Adrian slid out of bed and pressed the lock button on the door. Oh, he'd be seen point-blank if a nurse should come in…. He pulled the curtain around the circumference of the bed, hastily fetched his clothes from the closet, and slipped into the familiar comfort of his own clothes. Oh my God, he noted, finding the police jacket, how did this end up here? Was someone playing a cruel trick on him? He then remembered that Dr. Kroger had grabbed a jacket from his armoire, and happened to grab that particular article of clothing.

His 'dirty' clothes had been washed, so he had no additional garments to carry, and nothing else in the room was his. But the bed was unmade…. Oh, forget it; he just wanted to leave, and he turned away from the disturbance. Before he could change his mind, he slung the police jacket over his arm, ensuring that his house keys were in the pocket, and held the slip of paper in his other hand as he exited the room.

Sharona was surprised at his promptness. It had only been ten minutes. But why was Adrian holding his police jacket?

"Ummm," she began to say, motioning to his jacket.

"Oh, this," he said, chuckling nervously. "Dr. Kroger brought me to the hospital, and he accidentally grabbed this for me to wear on the way over. Well, I think it was an accident. Hmph." He scratched his head with the paper-holding hand.

"It's okay, I'm sure you'll be wearing that again, on purpose," she replied, smiling.

Oh, how he had missed her praises for him: when she'd smile at him after he'd solved a case, when she'd pat him on the back and compliment him. He had truly lived for those moments; it was like he was on the force again…. The old times with Sharona had temporarily returned, and maybe, just maybe, he could convince her to keep them there.

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