Chapter 33

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Martin opened his eyes and saw his father slouched in the chair beside him, sleeping noisily. Even in slumber his father looked worn and exhausted, like he had aged ten years in a matter of days. He studied him for a minute before turning his head to look out the window to find that the sky was dark.

"Hey, you're awake." He lifted his head up from the pillow and saw Sam sitting across the room under a soft fluorescent light reading a newspaper. She folded the periodical and stood up. She tossed the paper on the chair and walked over to the bed. She glanced at his father and said, "Can I just tell you that I am incredibly thankful that you did not inherit your father's predisposition to snoring?"

Martin rested his head back on the pillow and replied, "Yeah, he does sound like a faulty muffler."

Sam smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. He could feel the mattress dip at towards her as his body moved slightly closer towards hers. She picked up his hand and held it in both of hers. Her hand was warm and soft and he realized how much he missed the feel of her skin.

She looked at him with eyes that were soft and sincere and asked, "How do you feel?"

"Crappy." He replied; his voice gravely from the sedation. He eyed her carefully, not wanting to break the spell but he had to ask, "How long have I been out?"

"It's five a.m. so about eleven hours or so."

Martin gave her a deflated look and asked, "So, what's the prognosis?"

Sam licked her lips and squeezed his hand tightly, "The bullet damaged some of the connective tissue in your thigh. It also managed to hit part of your femur which caused it to break; which means that you have lots and lots of physical therapy in store for you."

Martin sighed heavily and asked, "Great, anything else?"

"The knife wound was infected but they are giving you a course of antibiotics and your cold has evolved into pneumonia." Sam scooted closer and moved their clasped hands to her lap, "The good news is the doctor's are very confident that you are going to make a full recovery."

Martin coughed and there was a slight stinging sensation in his side. Not unbearable, just uncomfortable. He shifted trying to find a more comfortable position.

"Are you in pain? Do you want me to call the nurse?" Sam asked worriedly as she moved the hand not holding his to his forearm and began to caress it slowly, reassuringly.

He coughed again and shook his head. When the fit subsided he sunk his head deeper into the pillow and replied, "Not yet." He stole a quick glance at his hand in hers. "How long have you been here?"

"Awhile, I didn't want to go home until I knew you were alright." She studied his face for a moment before turning to look at Victor and added, "Neither did your parents. Your dad finally fell asleep about an hour ago and your mom went to get us coffee."

Martin nodded his head suddenly feeling sleepy. He closed his eyes and said with a yawn, "That's good." He squeezed her hand and added, "I'm glad you're here Sam."

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When he opened his eyes again the sun had risen and bright light filled the room. He looked over and saw that his father was wide awake and looking at him intently.

"Good morning." Victor said quietly as he leaned forward to get a better look at Martin. He looked at Martin as if he were afraid he would disappear at any moment.

"Morning." Martin replied. He glanced around the room and saw that they were all alone.

Seeing his gesture Victor said, "Samantha told us you woke up for awhile earlier this morning so your mother went back to the hotel to get some sleep." He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, smiled and added, "It took a little longer to convince Samantha but she finally agreed claiming that she needed to take a shower anyway."

Martin smiled and gave a light laugh. "Yeah, that sounds like her."

Victor smiled and nodded his head. They just looked at one another quietly, each unsure where to begin.

"The doctor said you are going to be fine." Victor said, trying to break the silence.

"I'm glad to hear that." Martin replied softly. He looked over his father's face and recognized that look of guilt. "Dad, it's not your fault."

"You don't even know all the details yet." Victor argued as he shook his head.

"I know that you cannot help what someone else does." Martin rebutted. He saw that his dad didn't believe him so with as much conviction as he could muster he said, "Dad, I'm going to be okay. You got there in time."

Victor lowered his eyes and shook his head. "Martin, how can you be so forgiving? Because of my past mistakes you had to suffer the consequences of my actions."

"By the way you look I'd say you suffered too." Martin gently responded.

Victor looked at him in disbelief. "I don't know how you do it. How can you go through something like this and not hate me for it?"

"You're my dad. I could never hate you." Martin replied matter-of-factly. Victor cocked an eyebrow and gave him a doubtful look. "Okay, sure, you drive me crazy sometimes by meddling in my life. You are always trying to tell me what to do which totally gets on my nerves…."

Victor laughed and the lines around his eyes crinkled making his face look soft and kind. "That's the Martin I know."

The two men looked at each other for a beat when Victor quietly said, "I'm sorry I was never there for you when you were growing up, Martin." He gave a humorless laugh and continued, "It took something like this to really make me see just how badly I failed as a father. To realize just how much of your life I missed. I just always thought there would be more time for us to do those things that you were always asking me to do."

Martin smiled at his father and replied, "There still is, dad."