Quinn came into Zander's room later. Peter and Alexis sat in chairs, pulled up to his bed, each reading from one of the books Quinn and Alexis had brought. Marianna sat on the windowsill, looking out the window. Three people, Quinn thought. She'd never seen that before, yet it was common with most patients. Sometimes she could hardly get into a room for the visitors.

"You've got too much catching up to do to read that book," Quinn said, looking over Peter's shoulder.

"It turns out these books are a kind of catching up," Alexis answered. "Listen to this: 'Many times the oldest child in the divorcing family fares the worst, becoming the overburdened child, dealing with more than they should be at their age. The child parents the parent, and is burdened by the parents' fight over their time, affection and alliance.'"

"It does sound like a textbook description of you," Quinn said to Zander, taking his temperature.

"I don't remember it like that," Zander said, when she was finished with that and started listening to his chest. "I just remember being shuffled around between their houses and between countries and a lot of trips to court and a lot of visits from cops."

"But you did end up doing a lot of stuff," Peter said. "To me, anyway. They changed, you stayed the same. I remember you taking me to school in Moscow, like you were in charge. And the whole trip back to Florida when Mom came to Moscow; I felt like you were doing all that, more than Mom was. Like you were taking us back to her because she had the right. On the trips to court, I almost never had to go talk to the judge. They talked to you first, because you were the oldest, and mostly they were just satisfied with that and never bothered with me. I couldn't have told them anything you couldn't, anyway."

"They'd ask me where I wanted to go sometimes, or who I wanted to live with. They should have asked you that too. You might have a different opinion."

"No way! I wasn't going with one of them without you! No, really. I'd have literally said, 'I want to live with the one Sander wants to live with.'"

Joe Quinn came into the room, Tim Connor trailing behind him. "We're going out to the race track," he said. "Peter, you can come with us if you want to."

"No, thanks, Joe," Peter said. "I want to stay with Sander."

"No offense, Peter" Alexis said. "But he could probably use some quiet time."

"You are a bit of a chatterbox," Joe said to Peter, kindly.

"Yeah, I guess I am! What do you think, Sander? You need a break from my chattering? I can always come back the second you miss me."

"The very second," Joe said. "I'll bring him back," he said to Zander.

"Yeah. Thank you Joe. I don't think you need to be in a hospital room for hours on end, either, Pete. Take a break. Have some fun."

"It'd be more fun if you could come," Peter said to Zander.

"He will eventually," Quinn said, reassuringly. "He's not going to be stuck here forever."

"Well, OK," Peter said. "But only because you need a break, Z-z-z-z-z-z-z-ander." As he followed Joe out the door, he turned and said, with a big grin. "You can't get away again, Sandy. Don't even try it!"

Just before she got off work, Quinn stopped into Zander's room. "I got a call," she told him. "All is well. They're going out to dinner - to the Outback. Peter has 50 things to tell you. He'll be here tomorrow."

Zander smiled, looking off. She turned to go, and he said, "Nurse Question. Stop a minute."

She turned back.

"Thanks," he said. "for everything. I know this is a ton of work on you that the other patients don't put on you."

"That Joanna! She must be the one telling you about my complaining! Never mind it. I just do it for fun. It's not a problem."

"I have so many problems," he said. "I guess you don't. But if you ever do, well, anything I can do, I will."

"Forget it," she said.

"Taking care of Pete is above the call of duty. I can already say I told you so, you know. She's going to come to your house eventually, and blame your parents for his being up here."

"You mean your mom? Here's a thing to do for me - your pronouns are confusing - I know you don't want to call her Mom, at least not now. I don't blame you, really, I don't. Think up a code name for her. I know. Use first names. Whenever I'm talking about my parents to Joe, for instance. He knows them by their first names, so sometimes I use them. Especially if I am a little peeved at them. I'll be: "Danny says I don't know what I'm doing about such and such.'"

Zander laughed. "OK, it's a little thing I can do for you - better than nothing. He stopped a minute. "OK. Oksana's going to show up and demand to know why your parents stole Peter from her. Without thinking first, that maybe they might be helping, not doing something evil."

"Maybe Oksana's not the same. It's been four years. She might get it when it's explained. They'll forgive her initial impressions. You think - you might talk to her?"

He was silent.

"You're not alone, I can see you've got friends. I think you've got more than your realize. Alexis, she's your friend. You didn't have a friend like that when you were a kid. And you've got Joe Quinn. Don't give me total credit. He didn't have to like you or even come back a second time. You've got Cheryl even," she said looking at the flowers, then her eyes lit on the letter. "And you've got your girlfriend fifty percent of the time. Surely she'll do another 180."

"And another 180 after that. I wish I could write back. I'd like to give her a piece of my mind."

"What's that about, why don't you know where she is? Is it a big secret to everybody she knows, where she went to school?"

"I think her folks convinced her it was a good idea. I even thought so. They had me convinced I didn't really care about her if I didn't let her go. I knew she'd - Emily would call me up and tell me after she got there."

"Here," Quinn said. "Write her anyway. Even if you can't send it. It will help. I've tried it. It works." She looked in the drawer and found the hospital stationary. "It's isn't fair on her that she doesn't know about this shooting, though."

"Oh, it makes no difference, really. Should it, even?"

"In the long run, I guess not."

He took the paper from her. She fished around in her purse for a pen. "Here," she said. "And when you're done that, write one to each of your parents. Bye now."

"Good night, Nurse Question," she heard him say as she sailed out the door.