On the second day, the count was one hundred and twelve to four-if-you're-generous, in Trucy's favor.
To be fair, Miles didn't have as much free time as she did. Trucy was a child, a terrified, grieving little girl who had nothing to offer but a magician's sleight-of-hand turned to origami. Miles was different - he spent a lot of time talking to the doctors, and on the phone, and doing paperwork. Trucy knew he'd been in the middle of a trial before she'd called, and she knew he'd come immediately, but knowing that was still... different somehow, to seeing him highlighting things on a bunch of paperwork and talking in rapid German to his subordinates overseas. Every time a doctor came in he'd put his phone calls on hold right away, and stand up with a very serious expression.
Trucy knew which conversations were about her dad, because those all happened in the hallway.
Normally she would eavesdrop as a matter of course - and she did for the first few of these, too, but after a while she had to stop. The doctors were awful - they kept saying long, complicated words, and Uncle Miles seemed to understand what they meant so he didn't ask for a simpler explanation and so all Trucy knew for sure was that everyone sounded worried, that the prognosis wasn't positive, most of all that Miles came back into the room every time looking more tired. He always looked to Phoenix first, too, like his eyes couldn't help searching for some small change in the time that he'd been gone.
Every time, there was no change. Every time, when he turned to Trucy, he looked disappointed.
Trucy didn't mind. She felt the same way.
Probably the worst moment all day was when she'd woken up curled close around her father, his heartbeat a steady thump under her ear. Even before she remembered what was wrong she felt like crying. Then she remembered, and she pressed her head harder against Phoenix's chest, and didn't open her eyes for a long time, not until Miles made her.
"Trucy," he had said quietly. "Your breakfast is getting cold, and the doctors need to run some tests."
She wasn't sure how he knew she was awake, but he sounded too confident for Trucy to even pretend to be asleep. She sat up, dropped a kiss to Daddy's still cheek, and went to eat the breakfast waiting at the little table. It was donuts, a treat the Wrights only really got on special occasions, to celebrate - but Uncle Miles didn't know that, she told herself, all he knew was that last time they'd been on the phone she had been raving about loving donuts, he was just being nice - and Trucy wanted to punch him. Wanted to vanish him and then just not bring him back, and send his stupid breakfast with him.
She ate the donuts, instead. They were pretty good, she guessed. She said so, and he made a comment about them not being his preference, but every once in a while… and she nodded, and after that it was a very quiet breakfast. Miles seemed very thoughtful, oblivious to the anger bubbling inside his companion.
At the end of the meal, he explained how he still had some work to do for his case in Europe, and some 'arrangements' to make, and that he wouldn't be able to spend very much time with her today, but he'd finish everything as soon as possible -
"I promise," he'd said, voice low and slow and deliberate, looking straight into Trucy's eyes. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a package of five hundred origami squares in four different colors.
That time, Trucy did give into her immediate impulse: she hugged him again, all her fury vanishing in a rush of love for Uncle Miles, who always listened and was here, at least someone was here. He was just a little bit faster to respond, this time (but still no match to Daddy, whose hugs were warm and strong and safe and went on and on and on until she was giggling and wriggling to escape).
He stopped his work every so often to check on Trucy, and joined her now and then, but his crane-making efforts were just as pitiful as the previous day, so he didn't get much done. He wasted way too much paper, and every time it seemed to be going well he'd inevitably get interrupted and lose focus, crumpling the paper.
She kept his 'successes' in the same pile as all of hers, and even though she was no pro herself, even though they were using the same paper, his few efforts still stuck out like a sore thumb. It was pretty pathetic, and she even laughed a little bit about it, but Trucy didn't feel much like laughing and got quiet again soon.
She was very quiet all day - she felt numb, and small, and tired. In fact, the whole day felt kind of like a dream, a terrible quiet waiting dream, the little room shivering with tension in all the spaces her voice would usually be, her jokes and Daddy's laughter, his little sarcastic comments. Instead, there was the sound of pen on paper, and lights blinking on the machines, and her fingers getting more and more tired as the day wore on into evening.
The hospital wouldn't let them sleep over again that night. Visiting hours were over at seven, they said, and no more exceptions.
"Let's go home," Uncle Miles told her, and he really took her home to Daddy's cramped little apartment, and Trucy had hardly done anything all day, just folded cranes with the odd bathroom break or food break or pause just to stare at the hospital bed and try not to think about losing everything all over again – but she was exhausted, somehow. It was probably a good thing.
This way, she didn't have to think too hard about what she was saying, as her temporary guardian tipped her into her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin.
"G'night, love you," she sighed as her eyes closed, and only half-noticed the way he completely tensed, jerked back a little -
("Love you more," Phoenix would say every night, always with a little bit of teasing challenge in his voice, always dropping a kiss to her forehead, and she missed him so much.)
"I – goodnight," Miles said, and left the room.