Disclaimer: See initial chapter

A/N: Extremely AU.

The Chosen Four

Epiphany slipped in through the door as quietly as she could. She stood and watched the four people she'd singlehandedly chosen to care for the broken officer and smiled contentedly. She'd chosen correctly. It had been hard for her to make these split-second decisions, yet she knew that, ultimately it was in God's hands, and that, as she trusted in Him, He would direct her steps. He'd never let her down before and it looked as though He hadn't let her down now.

She closed the door solidly behind her, garnering the attention of her chosen four. She held the gaze of each of them in turn and then nodded to herself. Pursing her lips, she addressed the people entrusted to Johnny's care for the next foreseeable future, "Is everyone on board with this?"

They all nodded as one and she grinned back at them. All she had left to do was procure someone to watch over the former mobster during the day. She ran a mental checklist through her mind of possible guards. Olivia was an obvious choice, but she might be far too emotional and tip her hand, though, with her son running night duty, she might be the best choice...perhaps Ethan would be a better choice? Hadn't he and Johnny been in cahoots when Johnny'd still been in Port Charles? She'd have to put some more thought into it. Not just anyone would do.

"Good," she nodded almost to herself, "we'll have to wheel another bed in here for Officer Falconari. It won't do Johnny a bit of good if he falls over dead tired on us. I trust that you are a light sleeper?"

Dante nodded in response, resisting the urge to moan at the thought of a bed. He was about ready to crawl into bed with Johnny, regardless of the tubes and various doohickeys attached to him. The bed was big enough for two people; he'd be mindful of the equipment and take extra care not to jar the comatose man. Johnny wouldn't even be aware of his unorthodox bedmate.

He doubted, however, that Epiphany would be appreciative of where his thoughts had taken him. He shuddered as he considered what form her anger would take were he to make good on his exhausted contemplations. A bed of his own was not only a necessity, but would be a godsend.

"I'll sleep with a gun tucked beneath the pillow," he assured the intrepid nurse.

"And you three," she turned her attention to the hospital staff, "will keep your tongues from wagging and your lips firmly glued shut if you value working at General Hospital." She glared at each of them, daring them to doubt her sincerity.

Dr. Webber might be chief of staff, but Nurse Johnson was the head nurse. She could make them miserable beyond belief and have them begging to quit were she to put her mind to it. They'd keep quiet.

"He doesn't deserve this, no matter what he might have done in the past," Patrick spoke wearily.

"How did his surgery go?" Epiphany could have looked at the doctor's notes, but wanted it straight from the horse's mouth.

"As well as could be expected," Patrick let out a heavy breath, "he lost a lot of blood and we found some internal bleeding which was patched up fairly quickly; thankfully we found the source of the bleeding early. The damage to his shoulder was minimal, but he'll have to go through physical therapy to regain full use of it once he recovers."

"And his head?" Dante asked from his resumed seated position in the bedside chair.

He ignored the glare Epiphany sent in his direction. The gauze surrounding the man's head with little tufts of hair sticking out of it was a bit daunting and Dante worried about what it might mean for the man. Would he remain a vegetable for the rest of his life or wake up mentally retarded or amnesiac?

"The bullet was lodged in his skull and didn't perforate the brain, but his brain is severely bruised from the impact of the bullet. There was bleeding on the brain as well; I had to go in and relieve pressure and stop the bleeding. From what the CT scan showed, I would guess that his slammed against a hard surface as well. It is too early to tell what, if any, permanent brain damage he might have. We will have to wait until he wakes up to determine the extent of the damage to his brain."

"Worst case scenario?" Epiphany once again took up the line of questioning.

Blowing a piece of unruly hair from his eyes, Patrick took a deep breath, running the different possibilities through his mind before speaking.

"Worst case is that he never wakes up. The monitors indicate that he's not brain-dead, but that doesn't mean he won't remain in a perpetual coma. He could suffer from permanent, long or short term amnesia and will definitely suffer from temporary amnesia if he wakes up. He more than likely will not remember what happened to him," he shot a look at Dante who nodded tersely in acknowledgement that he might not get the answers he needed from Johnny.

"He could wake up severely mentally retarded. Due to acute damage to his occipital lobe, he could even wake up blind or experiencing an extreme change to his visual-perceptual system. There are a number of different scenarios, each one handicapping in its own right. I won't know anything until he wakes up."

"Fair enough," Epiphany acquiesced, "we'll do what we can and play it by ear. He ain't going anywhere anytime soon. And now," she gestured to her doctors and nurse, "it's time we attended to our other duties. Officer Falconari." She nodded at the officer who sagged in the chair, he could barely keep his eyes open. "I'll have an intern wheel a bed in for you."

"Thank you." He yawned and glanced at his watch.

Depending on how soon the bed was brought in, he might just get a couple hours of sleep before beginning his next shift. He wondered who Epiphany would have waiting to take over Johnny-watch when he left the hospital later that morning.

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