Quinn went into Zander Smith's room and picked up the chart. Two gunshot wounds to the abdomen, major surgery, stable, but critical. She noticed his eyes opening; they focused on the ceiling for a moment, then went around the room. She walked over to the side of the bed and adjusted the IV, saying, "you're okay," an automatic and professional response to her. His eyes turned and focused on her. This lasted a few seconds, then they closed again. Still, she made a note on the chart of it.

While she wrote, someone came into the room. This was a professional looking, auburn haired woman, who looked around the room as if taking it all in, and immediately said, "how is he?"

"You're his mother?" Quinn asked.

"Oh, no. No. I'm his lawyer. Alexis Davis."

"He's as well as can be expected," Quinn said. "No visitors other than you and a police detective. Where're his parents? Is he over 18? No birth date on this chart, and that's usually the first thing they get."

"Can I sit with him?" Ms. Davis asked, irrelevantly.

"Of course," Quinn said, just glad there was somebody who apparently cared. Every single other patient in her care had family members, friends, visitors of every kind. There was even a pamphlet and a program for people with a family member in the ICU.

Ms. Davis pulled up a chair and sat down by his side, looking at him. Maybe she was more of a friend than just a lawyer. People's lawyers didn't usually visit, either. Lawyers just weren't the part of an ICU patient's life that came up. There was an occasional issue with a "do not resuscitate" and the "Advanced Care Directive," but visiting lawyers Quinn, at least, had never seen before.

Quinn looked at the chart again. Unusual, in that it had so many blanks. No birthday, no birthplace, no religion, and she already knew the name wasn't necessarily true.

"Do you know what religion he is?" she finally asked Ms. Davis. "The hospital has a list of priests and ministers they can call in."

"No idea," Ms. Davis said, looking up at Quinn.

"Friends, family, anybody at all? Where's Miss Quartermaine? My boyfriend told me she's his girlfriend."

"Packed off to her freshman year in college last week, just before this happened. So as to timing, when it comes to friends who are in town, I think you're looking at her."

"Okay," Quinn said, deciding to accept her as the one you talk to about the patient. "I'm here for you if you've got questions or want to tell us anything. Quinn Connor, that is my name on the card on the side table. And Dr. Jones is available sometimes, too."

"Thank you," Ms. Davis answered. Quinn looked back as she left the room, and was a little relieved seeing Ms. Davis put her hand down on the patient's arm. She must not be related to him, Quinn thought, or she'd have said so, but she must be something more than just a lawyer.