Author's Note: Next chapter. I apologize again for all of the delays and hope to get another chapter out soon.

Silver Fox: Thank you so much. I hope this latest chapter was worth the wait and that you'll enjoy what I have coming up.

Chapter Eleven

Two hours later, James sat on the edge of a wooden chair in the waiting area of the hospital, his posture rigid.

As he looked around the place with weary, impatient eyes, he considered the irony of this place being designated as a spot for people to wile away their time as they waited for news of their loved ones who were being treated. The chairs creaked at even the slightest movement. Movement that was inevitable as they seemed to have been crafted for use by misshapen statues than actual people. The walls were mostly bare and were painted with a bland off-putting color that reminded James of melted custard that had started to turn. There were a couple of framed prints of landscapes that depicted the scenery of the Dales as smeared blobs of dingy colors. He imagined it was how dogs with cataracts saw their surroundings. The magazines that sat on a scuffed end table were tattered with months, if not years, of use.

Altogether, it was one of the last places that people would willingly choose to spend an extended amount of time in. Thus, James was grateful for Helen's presence as he was sure he'd go mad while waiting for any word about the condition of both Farnon brothers.

A squeeze to his hand drew James' gaze away from the floor and over to his wife's anxious face. He could guess what she was thinking and feeling as he imagined it was very similar to what he was grappling with.

After the two of them helped Tristan into James' car, James had sped to the hospital. Tristan did not wake up once during the entire trip which worried James even more. When he arrived, a pair of nurses were waiting for him at the entrance with a wheelchair. Tristan had just started to come around when he had parked the car, but was still disoriented. James tried his best to reassure him while helping him into the wheelchair and walking with him into the hospital, but he wasn't sure how much good it did. Once they were inside, James watched helplessly as Tristan was wheeled down a side corridor, an anxious, confused look on his best friend's face.

Then came the unpleasant task of inquiring about Siegfried, a task that haunted him ever since he got a glimpse of his friend and partner in the barn.

After getting a brief, guarded update, he sat down to wait. Helen arrived a few minutes later after one of the constables helped her drop Siegfried's car off at Skeldale, inform Mrs. Hall of what had happened, and then take her here.

When she did arrive, James didn't know what to tell her. He'd seen where a wound had been bandaged up and was certain that it was serious. He also knew that Tristan would have had to treat it with whatever they had had on hand in their bags. If there had been any surgery involved, there would have been no anesthetic, a thought that turned James' stomach. Both because of the trauma Siegfried would have endured and because Tristan would have had to operate on his own brother in the worst possible conditions.

The fact was, James wasn't sure at this point that Siegfried would survive. The thought continued to take up space in his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to put it into words. Some irrational part of him still believed that keeping it to himself might be just enough to prevent a tragedy from happening.

However, it also created a lonely turmoil in James' heart. Still, he was perfectly willing to endure it on his own if it led to even the slightest chance that Siegfried's life would be spared.

"I wish they would tell us something," Helen sighed. "About Siegfried. Or Tris. Poor Tris. He was so upset. He must be beside himself by now."

James clasped her hand. "I know. Hopefully they will be able to tell us something before too long."

"James…you don't think that he…that Siegfried is…that that's why Tris was so upset…."

"No, no darling," James assured her. "I talked to the nurse when I got here with Tris and she said that Siegfried was still alive when they took him into surgery. No, I'm sure the concussion Tris got is the reason why he was acting like that. You saw that gash on his temple. He must have had a nasty blow to the head. And concussions can sometimes cause people to be hysterical."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Helen said. "Oh but James, are you sure that Tristan will be all right then?"

"Yes, I'm sure he will be," James hastened to assure her. "He probably just needs some rest and care. It probably didn't do him any good to be stuck in that drafty barn with nothing to eat or drink. And with a concussion on top of it all…I'm sure he feels poorly now, but he'll get better after getting some attention here."

"And Siegfried? James, Tris said he was hurt badly. Is…is it as bad as…?"

James put his arm around Helen, drawing her closer. It was tempting to evade the question, to try and shield her and maybe himself from the painful reality of the situation.

But when he tried to think of something to say to placate her, the words would not come. It felt too much like lying, and right now, James was certain that none of them would benefit from the distance lying would inevitably create between them.

"I only got a short look at his injury, but…yes, I'm sure it's bad. There were a lot of bandages on his side and any wounds he has are probably infected. I imagine the doctors are operating on him now to disinfect the tissue and surrounding areas in order to contain the infection and to put in new sutures."

"New sutures…you mean, Siegfried had already been operated on? But how…oh, oh James…not Tris…."

James nodded slowly, his heart growing heavier as he watched Helen's eyes well up with tears. For a moment, he thought she was going to say something else. Instead she shook her head and turned her gaze to the floor, her fingers curling tighter around his. He joined her in this anxious silence, not knowing what else he could say.

Eventually, a nurse appeared in front of them, causing both of them to blink in surprise.

"I thought you should know that Mr. Farnon, um Mr. Tristan Farnon, is resting in his room now."

"Oh thank you," Helen said, her expression brightening. "How is he?"

"Well, the doctor's main concern is the concussion," the nurse answered. "But so far, he appears to have his reason and most of his memory intact. Mind, he is feeling quite off-color right now, but that's to be expected."

"Of course," Helen nodded. "He's dreadfully worried about his brother."

"Yes, he mentioned his brother several times while we were treating him," the nurse replied. "We tried to explain to him that we're doing everything we can for him, but I'm not sure he entirely understood that. Hopefully, by tomorrow, things will become clearer to him."

"Apart from that, how is he?" James asked.

"For the most part, yes," the nurse answered. "He does have a mild case of exposure. Apparently, he didn't dress properly for an extended stay outdoors and now he has a chill."

James shook his head. He'd seen Tris' coat draped onto Siegfried and was certain that Tris had given it up that first night the two of them were trapped in that barn.

"He is also a bit weak from lack of food, water, and rest," she continued. "Still, he is young and strong, so he should recover quickly from all that. The doctor did recommend some additional rest once he leaves the hospital."

"What about his brother?" Helen asked. "Mr. Siegfried Farnon? Do they…do they know yet if he will…?"

"The other Mr. Farnon is still in surgery," the nurse replied. "I'm afraid all I can say is that his condition is critical. I am sorry, but that is all I know. But as soon as he is able to spare a moment, I will let the doctor know that you wish to speak to him."

"Thank you," James said. "Can we see Mr. Farnon…Tristan…now?"

"I'm sorry, but not tonight," she said. "We are keeping Mr. Farnon here to monitor him in case there are any complications from his concussion. This will involve waking him every couple of hours and examining him. So we would prefer that he be allowed to sleep as much as possible whenever he can. However, I'm sure you can visit him tomorrow."

James and Helen thanked her again and watched silently as the nurse took off down a side corridor. The two of them shared a pensive look and sat back down in their chairs.

Each of them preparing themselves for another long wait.

Once he had been allowed to settle into a bed, Tristan didn't want to open his eyes. Not really.

Opening his eyes meant becoming more aware of the pounding headache that was tormenting his brain. Not that it went away completely with his eyes closed. But opening them did make it worse as the harsh hospital lighting flooded his eyes. It was bad enough putting up with the jumbled, intermittent noises from elsewhere in the recovery room that never really stopped.

No, if he had his choice, he'd stay under his bed sheets, curled up on his side. Silent, unmoving and purposely unaware of the rest of the world.

The problem was, no one was going to allow him to do that. Every time he had started to drift into unconsciousness, another nurse would show up to wake him and check his vitals or ask him a bunch of questions. Sometimes, the questions changed or at least, Tristan didn't remember answering them before. At this point, he wasn't too sure of the reliability of his own memory.

The one thing he was certain of was that, every time he tried to ask one of these nurses about Siegfried, he got the same vague answer: that he was in surgery and it was too soon to know anything. That answer frustrated Tristan as it told him nothing while also managing to fuel the worry that was eating away at him whenever his mind was clear enough to think about what had happened.

Shuffling footsteps made Tristan groan and turn his face into his pillow. The nurses who had visited him had all been lovely in their own ways, but he was tired of their constant prodding and questioning. He just wanted to sleep. Why wouldn't they let him sleep?

"Mr. Farnon."

Tristan blinked hard. That voice had a distinctly masculine sound to it. So, not another nurse then.

"Mr. Farnon."

Tristan did his best to suppress a groan. He didn't want to move, but there no hint of a question in this man's voice. It was clearly a command for him to wake up.

He slowly crept out from under his blankets and turned his face toward the sound. After blinking several more times, his bleary eyes finally could focus on the face next to his bed. The man looked young, not much older than him, with thinning brown hair and a long face with sharp features. A pair of stern grey eyes was his most prominent feature, eyes that were studying him with obvious disapproval.

"I'm Doctor Geoff Halpin," the man said. "I'm assisting Doctor Holt who is currently operating on your brother."

Tristan scrambled to sit up. Now that he was fully awake, he noticed the surgical gown Halpin was wearing. And the blood that was smeared onto it.

"My brother, how is he?" he babbled. "Is he going to be all right?"

"He is very weak, but stable at the moment," Halpin said. "Mr. Farnon, there isn't time to go over your brother's condition right now. The fact is, we are facing a crisis. The operation is taking longer than we had anticipated and we are running low on blood that matches your brother's blood type. So I'm here to ask if you know if you share your brother's blood type."

Tristan ran a hand over his face. "Um, I think so. Wait, no, yes I do. Do you need some of mine? You can have it. Take as much as you want. Anything to help Siegfried to…um…."

"Yes, well, I think I should test it before the doctor gives it to him," Halpin said. "If it does match, we will need a couple of pints from you. It's more than we would like to ask for, given your condition, but as I said, this is a crisis and the additional blood will be vital."

"I understand," Tristan said, nodding, "Take whatever you need."

Halpin nodded at a nurse who pulled out a syringe. Tristan hissed as the sting of the needle entered his arm.

"We are having to cut away the stitches your brother already had when he came in," Halpin continued while the nurse drew the blood. "It seems someone operated on him before he arrived. A right bloody hash was made of it too. The wound wasn't cleaned properly at all. Even if the trauma doesn't kill him, sepsis or peritonitis still could."

Tristan lowered his eyes. "I tried. Honest, I tried. There, there just wasn't any way to…."

"Are you saying you're the one who tried to operate on that wound?" Halpin said.

Tristan nodded. When he built up the courage to look up again, he saw that the doctor was eyeing him coldly.

"Are you a doctor?"

"Um, no, I'm a vet. Well…sort of. I'm not actually qualified yet, but I almost am."

"Bloody hell," Halpin muttered. He took the vial of blood the nurse had extracted and stepped to the side with her. "Go ahead and take two pints of blood. If this matches, we will need it right away."

"Yes, Doctor," the nurse said.

The two of them left the room with the nurse returning a few moments later with a stand and a tray of materials, including two bottles for the blood.

"All right, Mr. Farnon, try to relax," she said. "This will take a while."

Tristan nodded and slid down in his bed so he could lie on his back. He turned his face to the wall and ignored all attempts by the nurse to engage him in small talk while she worked. Eventually, she fell silent while she waited for each bottle to fill.

The truth was, Tristan couldn't blame Halpin for being disgusted over how Siegfried's injuries had been handled up to this point. His brother had needed professional treatment, and instead, he'd been stuck with a struggling vet student. True, there hadn't been any other options, and Siegfried would have died without some kind of immediate attention.

Still, there was this persistent belief that maybe if he had been a qualified vet or even just a better student, Siegfried would have a better chance of surviving.

A flush of sickening warmth washed over him and Tristan felt woozy. Probably this damn concussion again. Or maybe all the blood they were taking from him. Tristan couldn't be sure nor did he really care.

All he could think about at the moment was that Siegfried was in surgery, and that his condition was serious.

Tristan closed his eyes. What if he had made a mistake? A sloppy stitch which had allowed Siegfried to continue to bleed internally. Or forgetting to disinfect something that could have worsened the inevitable infection. So many things could have gone wrong with this operation which was going to be problematic to begin with. It was why he had needed to be so careful. Because of the risks he…no, Siegfried…was already facing.

"All right, Mr. Farnon, I'm starting to draw the second pint now," the nurse said.

Tristan nodded to show he had heard, but still didn't speak. At the time, he had thought he had been careful. That he had made sure to check everything and had worked cautiously and conscientiously. Operations of any kind were always something he was meticulous about.

But right now, he simply could not be certain that he had been as thorough as he had thought he had been. And even if he had, did he really have the skill needed to even attempt an operation like that?

Tristan took a shuddering breath. None of this really mattered. It didn't matter if he had done everything right procedurally or if he had operated with just enough skill to keep Siegfried alive until they got to a hospital. It didn't matter at all if he could be considered blameless for the actions he took to save his brother.

None of it meant anything if Siegfried died.

"Mr. Farnon, we're finished for now," the nurse told him. "Just rest and someone will be back to check on you in a little while. Is there anything you need before I go?"

"No," Tristan croaked, turning back onto his side. Seconds later, he heard footsteps leave the room.

He could try going back to sleep. He was certainly tired enough for sleep, even sleep that wouldn't be given a chance to become anything truly substantive.

Unfortunately, Tristan was certain that it wasn't just going to be the nurses that would keep him awake tonight.