A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed and favorited:) Without much ado, here's chapter two. Enjoy!

Connor came to with a cry on his lips, his left hand shooting into the air as if to fend off an invisible attacker. For a split second he was back on the floor of the waiting room, then there were suddenly more hands pushing him down, back to the bed and the splitting headache took away all the fight he had in him. Connor let himself be pushed back onto the pillow, his head weighing a ton, and tried in vain to calm down his breathing.

"Relax, it's okay, you're okay. Just breathe," he heard from a distance after a minute, when sound started to come back. There was the annoying beeping of the heart monitor that let him know his heart was still thinking about mortal danger and pumping adrenaline into his system, but he tried to ignore that in favor of the familiar voice.

"That's it, hun. Are you back with us?" It was Maggie, had to be. No one else would call him hun, not while he was at work at least. Connor let out a sound that could be interpreted either as an agreement, or a grunt, but Maggie was obviously magic and got the meaning, because he heard her chuckle.

"Yeah, I'm sure you'd rather be asleep right now, but it's time to join the living."

Another grunt, this time because he definitely didn't condone her good mood in the face of his suffering, but then she ran her hand gently over his forehead and cheek, and Connor was hit with the memory of his mother doing just that some twenty five years ago. He turned into the touch longingly, wishing he could stay like that and didn't have to open his eyes, but knew it was a futile wish.

"Come on hun, I know you deserve some sleep after those 12 hour shifts you've been pulling lately, but the doctors around are getting a bit nervous and impatient. You know how they dislike their patients getting more sleep than they do."

Another touch of fingers on his cheek and Connor sighed and gave up the pretense. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw Maggie standing over him, the look of concern on her face changing into one of relief.

"Hey," he said, his voice raspy and sounding a bit too weak for his liking.

"Hey, about time," Maggie said and put a hand on his shoulder when he tried to sit up a bit to look around. "Try not to move around too much, Dr. Rhodes," she admonished him, a little too late. The moment Connor lifted his head from the pillow, the room spun around, and this time his stomach decided it had had enough.

Eyes going wide, Connor grunted out the word "sick," before turning to his left side and heaving. Luckily Maggie seemed to anticipate the action because she had a basin under his chin even before the bile came out. Connor squeezed his eyes shut, his right hand gripping the railing as he wished for the sweet unconsciousness to claim him. There was nothing worse than throwing up when one was having the mother of all migraines. Unfortunately, his body seemed to veto this thought and he was all too aware of a hand gently circling on his back, then wiping his mouth with a washcloth after the dry heaves finished. Flopping boneless back to the pillow, Connor moaned and felt both embarrassed and angry at whomever caused his suffering.

"It's okay, you'll be right as rain in few days," Maggie soothed, squeezing his shoulder gently. Connor had the decency not to glare at her, but only because the lights were too bright and it was too much effort.

"Can you just put me to sleep until then?" he muttered, then decided it was maybe time to find out what the hell was wrong with him… except for the obvious, of course.

"So... concussion?" he asked, realizing he was still in the ED and was now a proud wearer of a hospital gown. Maggie patted him on the hand, checked his IV, and took the dirty basin from the bedside table.

"Why don't I get rid of this and let Dr. Jacobs and Dr. Choi know you're awake? You just rest up and try not to fall asleep before they come, deal?"

"Do I have a choice?" Connor asked, but Maggie was already out of the room. He sighed. Well, he was a doctor, and he could do an assessment himself... gingerly reaching up towards the wound on his head, Connor felt the small bandage covering the freshly sewn up wound. The area was rather tender and he decided leaving it alone would be the wiser thing to do. There was no ICP, which was good. If they weren't monitoring his intracranial pressure, that meant it was probably just a bad concussion and nothing else, however lousy he felt. On the other hand, the strange fuzziness he felt was a bit troubling. He was definitely on some stronger drugs, but couldn't figure out which ones. That by itself was a good indicator that he wasn't going home at least for a day or two... if he was lucky.

Despite Maggie's request to stay awake, Connor was half asleep by the time Ethan and Jacobs walked into his cubicle.

"Connor, buddy? Are you still with us?" Ethan asked, gently shaking Connor's shoulder. The surgeon blinked.

"Despite my best try to fall asleep, yeah," he muttered, and both doctors chuckled.

"Well, good to see you conscious, Dr. Rhodes," Jacobs said, and without a preamble, started with the neurochecks, while Ethan was watching from the sidelines. Connor answered several mundane questions and a few that suddenly seemed to take a longer time to answer than they should. He also grudgingly went through the part of the exams checking his motor functions, but had drawn the line at cooperating when Jacobs tried shining the penlight into his eyes. All too aware of what happened the last time someone tried to do that, Connor squeezed his eyes shut and growled.

"Photosensitivity or nausea?" Jacobs asked without losing a beat and when Connor opened his eyes, sneakily used the moment to check his pupil reactions.

"Fuck!" Connor swore rather uncharacteristically, his hand automatically flying up to cover his eyes. He didn't even realize Ethan was standing next to him, squeezing his arm in silent support.

"You're doing alright, Dr. Rhodes. I'll need you to follow my finger now. I promise not to use the light again," Jacobs said, ignoring the glare he got from both Connor and Ethan.

"Okay, follow my finger. You didn't answer my question, Dr. Rhodes. Any photosensitivity or nausea?" Jacobs asked, even as he watched the color slowly drain from his patient's face when he moved the finger before Connor's eyes.

"Both," Connor choked out and quickly closed his eyes, while his hands grasped the railing. It was bad enough he was sick in front of Maggie; he wasn't planning on retching now.

"The nurse wrote down that you were sick twice already, but that could be caused either by the TBI or the Keppra we're giving you as seizure prophylaxis," Jacobs droned out, reading the chart, while all Connor could think about was that he didn't remember being sick more than once.

"You were awake several times, but quite confused," Ethan said as an explanation to Connor's confused look.

"Oh, I don't remember," Connor admitted sheepishly.

"You didn't miss anything," Ethan said with a slight grin, and Connor wondered just what he did or said during that time, when he realized what Jacobs was saying.

"Wait. TBI and Keppra? Why am I on antiepileptic meds?" he asked nervously, looking from Jacobs to Ethan and then back again, even though it made the room spin faster.

"The CT showed some bleeding in the dura. It appears to be a slow bleed and we are hoping it will resolve itself in time without need for surgery. Right now we're giving you corticosteroids, as well as Keppra to stave off possible seizures and are keeping your head elevated to 30 degrees," Jacobs explained, albeit a little more slowly so that his patient could get his head around the diagnosis and treatment. He wouldn't be so straightforward with a concussed patient, but this was a colleague after all, not to mention the son of one of the hospital biggest benefactors. Some professional courtesy was in order.

"Are you with me so far, Dr. Rhodes?" he asked, as his patient seemed to be lost in thought. Connor blinked and gave a small nod.

"Yeah. Subdural hematoma and TBI," he said a little glumly, trying to think about all the possible things that could go wrong, starting with brain injury that could keep him out of surgery for several months or even forever.

"Now, it's not as bad as it sounds," Jacobs tried to cheer him up a bit. "We'll move you to the SNICU for close monitoring and repeat the CT scan first thing in the morning to see if the bleeding has stopped. If you stay alert, we might even stay clear from ICP monitoring."

"What about permanent damage? My vision is still blurry," Connor admitted with some apprehension.

"You have a concussion and your body is pumped full of some strong drugs. Give it a little time. If it doesn't clear up in the next 72 hours, we will consult with an ophthalmologist, but there's no need to worry about that yet. There's slight swelling in your brain that might be affecting the optical nerve."

Connor had an urge to snort at the cavalier way Jacobs was speaking about his brain, but thought better of it. The resulting spike in his headache wouldn't be worth it.

"Well, that's all from me. Do you have any questions, Dr. Rhodes?"

"When will I be moved?" Connor asked wearily. He had several questions, but didn't feel like asking them right now, especially not to Jacobs.

"Your bed should be ready within the hour, I believe. Don't worry, our nurses are just as nice as yours," Jacobs said with a grin. He patted Connor's leg and left the cubicle.

"I don't like him," Connor muttered as soon as Jacobs was gone, and Ethan chuckled.

"What, he's too cheery for you?" Ethan asked, and Connor grunted in reply. It was getting harder to concentrate again, and he knew sleep would come soon, but now that Jacobs left, he wasn't ready for it. Somehow the thought of leaving the ED scared him. At least here there were people who knew him a bit, who offered some comfort if needed. He was scared of more dreams… and memories. He still couldn't understand why the picture of his mom came to his mind after all these years.

"So... how are you really feeling?" Ethan asked suddenly, bringing Connor back to the present. It was annoying how hard he had to think about the answer, how much time it took to process the question.

"Fuzzy." He said the first thing that bothered him the most and Ethan nodded.

"It will get better, just give it time."

Time. Just how much time did he lose?

"What is the time?" he asked as he yawned.

"Almost seven."

"Afternoon?" Connor blinked, surprised. The patient he worked on was brought in right at the start of his shift, around seven in the morning.

"Yeah. You finished the surgery around 1 in the afternoon, when this happened."

"So I've been out of it for almost six hours?" Connor felt his heart speed up a bit, and knew Ethan could see it on the heart monitor next to his head. But he couldn't stop worrying… six hours of unconsciousness mostly meant severe TBI and the greater possibility of brain damage.

"In and out, mostly." Ethan tried to calm him down a bit. "You woke up about ten minutes after the attack and presented with a GCS of 12, so that's good. And you might not remember it, but we already spoke a few times in between, although I've had better conversations with my parrot, I must admit," Ethan added with small grin, trying to cheer Connor up. "What I'm saying is, don't think about it. Your speech and motor skills are all in range. No need to worry now, just relax. You might even meet some nice nurse on the SNICU floor."

Connor sighed and gave a small nod, appreciating his friend's attempt at comfort. To be frank, he really didn't feel like worrying about stuff... his head was still hurting and the light was getting on his nerves. Even Ethan's voice and the typical sounds of the ED were getting a bit muffled and he couldn't hide another yawn.

"Why don't you rest up a bit before they move you?" Ethan said when he saw the tight lines of pain and the sleepiness on Connor's face.

"Yeah... sounds good," Connor mumbled, eyes already closed. He was almost asleep when he realized that Ethan had pulled up a chair next to his bed and was ruffling through some magazine. Blinking heavily, he turned to his friend.

"Isn't your shift over?" he asked quietly. Ethan looked up from the magazine.

"Yeah, it ended a while ago."

"You're still here?" Connor muttered.

"We're friends. I thought you could use some company while you're still in the ED," Ethan said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Connor blinked, confused.

"You had us worried for a while, buddy," Ethan admitted, remembering the moment he saw Connor lying on the floor, head covered in blood, unresponsive and looking half dead. It wasn't a nice picture, and Ethan pushed it back. "Maggie is staying too, at least until we get you moved to SNICU. And you can expect everyone else popping in at some point. They'd be camping out there, but Goodwin sent them home. Personally, I thought it would be a bit creepy to wake up and find several people staring at you," he added with a slight smile, and Connor had to agree. The thought of anyone watching him sleep was creeping him out, but at least Ethan or Maggie had already seen him sleeping during one of his double shifts.

"Thanks bro," he said, appreciating the gesture and feeling just a bit safer in the knowledge there were people looking out for him, even after hours.

"Never leave a man behind," Ethan muttered under his breath, but Connor was already fast asleep. Ethan automatically looked at the monitors to check if everything was alright and eased himself back to his chair. Damn, but they could make them more comfortable. Ten minutes later, Maggie walked into the cubicle, silently observing their patient.

"All good?" she asked in a low voice, and Ethan nodded.

"He's asleep. His bed ready?"

"In half an hour, they need to settle another patient first."

"You going home?"

"Later," she said, and pulled up another chair, putting her aching feet up on the side of Connor's bed. She pulled out a small book from her pocket and started reading. Connor moved around a bit, unconsciously trying to find a more comfortable position. A hand landed on his foot, offering comfort and he stilled. He wasn't alone - that was all he needed to know right now.

TBC