The feeling slowly returned to his legs, and with it came the seering pain of his injuries, sending him further into a black mood.

He was moved the next week into the rehab wing of the hospital, where merely standing up became a monumental hurdle. She went to him almost every night after work, where they still traded few words. Still, there was something comforting about sitting there with him, knowing he was alive.

She woke up one night sweating in a blind panic. What if Woody never walked again? What if he were right? What if this was about pity? She sat in the darkness for an hour, knees pulled to chest, going over and over it.

And then the words ran through her mind again. Please don't leave me. I need you. It was still true, all of it. A peace finally came over her, and she fell back into a contented sleep. She need to keep fighting.

She stumbled into his room that afternoon. He sat in bed in a pair of his old sweats. He had already lost so much mass from his frame, and the clothes hung from him. He turned his head wordlessly toward her. She offered him a quiet hello and crossed to the armchair.

"You're late."

She looked up at him. "What?"

"You're late."

"I...had to get gas on the way here."

He nodded and looked away again.

She smiled as she turned her back and opened her bag for the soda she had brought with her. You're late. Two words, but to her, they had all the hope in the world. Her absence had been noted. She had been missed.

She turned back around to where he was still staring emptily out the window.

"Okay, that's it. We're blowing this joint." She grabbed the wheelchair that was parked by his door and rolled it to his bedside.

"Jordan, I can't just..."

"Come on! Spring has sprung, man. It's an unbelievably gorgeous day. You're not sitting in here brooding all afternoon."

He put up a mild protest but finally threw up his hands, knowing there was no dissuading Jordan. She had misgivings after the amount of effort it took to transfer him from the bed to the wheelchair. He was 200 pounds of dead weight, and they were both out of breath when she finally eased him into the chair.

He looked down, ashamed. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

"Well, I don't have the energy to get you back in bed, so I guess we'll have to keep moving." She pushed him into the hall.

There was a small courtyard off of the hospital cafeteria with a few quiet tables and a fountain. The lunch crowd had dispersed, and they were alone. He sat with his face tilted up into the afternoon sun.

"I'd forgotten what this feels like," he said quietly.

There was a long silence, and it was not altogether uncomfortable. She closed her eyes and listened to the soothing trickle of the fountain.

"What happened with us?" It spilled out of him, as if he had been storing it up for too long.

Her eyes snapped open. He was looking at her with a creased forehead. She looked down and fidgeted with her straw.

"I don't know, Woody." She shook her head in sad incomprehension.

"Even when we were seeing other people, even when we agreed to be 'just friends,' I really thought it would work out." His voice was heavy. " I never thought there would be a time when there would be nothing between us."

She chewed at her lip thoughtfully. The words were difficult to say. "I didn't know what I wanted. I was scared to admit to myself, let alone you, how I really felt. But I always thought you'd wait, I guess. Until I was sure. Then I found out you were seeing Devan..."

"It was never about Devan," he interrupted with force. "I liked her. We were friends, but that's it. She wanted more, but I couldn't give it to her. I only dated Devan, I think, to make you jealous."

"It worked." She looked down in shame at the guilt she still felt over Devan's death.

"Then why?" His voice ached with frustration. "Why did we keep doing this stupid dance? We almost had something in L.A. I was standing there on that rooftop offering you unconditional love and support, Jordan. We almost kissed, and then that damn phone rang. I should have known then, but you gave me those tickets to the Kinks concert, and you promised to be waiting for me in Boston. Idiot me, I believed you. But then I get back to Boston, and the walls are up and nothing I said matters. My feelings don't matter, because it's all about Jordan."

"That's not fair," she said, but her eyes stung with tears of regret.

"And then the ring," he went on bitterly. "I'm a human being, Jordan. I may come off to you all like some happy-go-lucky Boy Scout, but there's a heart under here, too, and I couldn't take it anymore. The empty promises, the rejection. So, I bought that ring. I knew it was too much, too soon, but it was time to fish or cut bait. I just hoped it would turn out a little differently."

She let his words seep in and took a long time before speaking. "I was going to ask for it back. You didn't know that, did you? But then, you told me you thought we should just be friends." She finally looked up at him. "I tried to tell you that night, Woody. And then the night you were shot. I tried. I finally was ready to say what I've wanted to say for so long, but..." she shrugged helplessly.

"Too little, too late." His voice was cool and even.

"Yeah..." she said in a broken voice, and she sniffed hard to hold back the tears. "So...where do we go from here?"

He sighed heavily. "I don't know, Jordan."

"Can't we at least be friends?" she asked tearfully.

"We've never been anything but friends. Look how that turned out."

"No. I'm not giving up."

He sighed heavily but did not respond. "I'd better get back. I'm going to be late for physical therapy."

She stood up as he pushed back from the table. "I'll take you..."

"No, that's all right. Go home, Jordan. You must be exhausted." He wheeled away and then looked back at her. "Thanks for the coffee."

He went through the door and back into the cafeteria. She sat there for a long time listening to the bubbling water. She wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry. She deserved his anger, she knew. But there was hope, too. Hope in his words, hope in the simple smile he gave her as he turned his head over his shoulder. It seemed appropriate to cling to the slightest hope when the smallest movement of his foot was cause for celebration.

She smiled to herself as she finally rose from the table and tossed a shiny penny into the fountain.