Part 3

Dean sat up at midnight. He was alone. Sam had finally made good on his threat to go to the hotel if Dean wasn't going to offer himself up as company worth having. Three days of ignoring both Sam and Bobby. None of them were talking about his options. That made the walls start to close in. Thoughts of what to do with himself for the next three months and doing it without Sam. Carefully, he rose from the bed. He stretched slightly. The skin pulled tight under the bandages. Sore from… everything, he walked three feet around the bed, pulling his IV stand with him. The windows didn't friggin' open. Gasping for air, he moved faster than he probably should have. Into the hallway, nearly knocking over a cart full of supplies and into the stairwell. The IV stand would slow him down on the stairs. He pulled the bag off the hook and carried it by his side. Up nine flights of stairs to the roof. The roof. Open space. Fresh air. Open… and he could breathe again.

Calming some, he hooked his bag on a bolt hanging off a vent, then gingerly leaned on the aging ledge, staring out onto some city that he didn't know the name of. Lights went on but not forever… because nothing was forever. The hospital was slowly suffocating him. He'd often wondered in the past if there was some sort of ritual done while building a hospital that allowed a piece of someone's soul to be taken just by crossing the threshold. Every moment inside its walls took another piece; every moment that Sam hovered or held up one-sided conversation. Bringing Bobby by hadn't helped anyone… except maybe letting Sam share the load.

So what if he didn't feel like talking. What was there to talk about? His options were pretty limited these days. And he only had 89 of those left. He couldn't hunt. No one had said it yet but Dean had known for six days that he couldn't hunt anymore… not without his depth perception. He couldn't even have fun anymore. No one had said anything but the looks from nurses when they changed his bandages had said enough. Pity. He probably looked like the phantom of the opera… or Two-Face, Batman's arch-enemy.

A breeze kicked up sending cool air through his hair. He relaxed so much, he nearly fell when he realized that someone had walked up behind him. Her hands caught him around the ribs. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, Mr. Winchester," her and her voice, standing behind him, holding him upright, "but I felt I should tell you that… as well-sculpted a posterior you have… it's currently exposed to the world." She released his ribs and began tying off the loose ends of his gown. He stayed very still when she moved away. "So you're up and about, huh? Feeling better, I guess." She chattered away, making herself comfortable somewhere to his right. "I saw you heading out, so I changed out your sheets, and I got you a fresh gown. Geez, it is beautiful up here. Wish I had thought to come up here for air, myself." He could feel her eyes boring holes into the side of his face. "Still not talking, though. I get it. You're the strong, silent type. Guess you're something of a night owl, huh."

Dean kept his gaze on the skyline. It looked vaguely familiar, also blurry, but he didn't want to know where he was. He just wanted to be lost for the next 89 days. "I've talked some with your brother. He's a nice kid. Loves you a lot. He's worried about you… frankly, so are the doctors. You've lost some weight and I will be the first to admit that the cafeteria food kind of bites but you need to keep your strength up." When he didn't respond, she moved to stand next to him. "I feel you need to know that… the doctors are very concerned. Your brother and I know that you're in there. You're willing to respond physically and apparently, in your own voice that way… Dr. Gilbert wants to send you up for a psych evaluation. He feels you have some sort of post-traumatic stress. Maybe that's true but it's not accurate. I'm not a doctor but I think that if you really had something to say, you'd say it."

She moved to sit on the ledge but his right hand shot out and stopped her. "What? Am I too close to you?" Swallowing down a lump, he nudged her back and then with a flick of his hand, sent the top brick on the ledge falling to the ground. "Oh. Um… thanks." She stared down at the brick where it had broken in two on the ground below. "I guess we are high up… but don't worry. I'm not going to tell Dr. Gilbert. He'd just say you were suicidal and I don't think that's true." She pulled out a pen and a notepad. "Can you just… tell me why you came up here?"

He just closed his eyes, put his right hand on his chest and took a deep breath. "For air, huh. Any reason you needed air? Couldn't catch your breath?" Hesitantly, he took her pen and wrote one word. Sam. "Oh, first night he wasn't right on top of you, right? I guess I might panic a bit myself." She took the pen back from him. "Guess it's hard to be someone's hero like that." He must have given away his surprise at her statement because she tilted her head at him. "You didn't know? He talks about you like you're the second coming or something. Granted, he is annoyed by your bullheadedness but it's very clear he admires you a great deal." She offered him a small smile. "If you want, I'll hover tonight in his place." He turned his face away from her. He started to walk away but his knees buckled a bit. "I think it's time to get you back to bed. You're weak because you don't eat. I can go get you something but I need you back in bed." He nodded as his vision swam. She appeared under his right arm. She unhooked his IV bag from the bolt and looped her right thumb through it. Her left arm wrapped around his back, her left shoulder in his armpit. "Okay. Now let's take it slow. There are three flights of stairs until we get to a floor where there's an elevator and then another floor until I can get a wheelchair. Just drape your arm over my shoulders." His breath quickened just a bit at the feel of soft hair against his arm, breasts against his rib cage, and it was all he could do not to turn his face to hers and just… "You just hang on to me and I'll do all the work."

His face must have betrayed his thoughts because her eyebrow shot up. "I take it that this is not the first time a woman has said that to you." He shrugged and managed a grin on the right side of his face. They moved slowly and his vision began to right itself. The stairs were a slow procession. Her right hand gripped his right hand to steady him against her. After one flight, she sat them down to rest. "You know, you're so much more handsome when you smile. You should do that more." He turned his face away from her, any hint of a grin was gone. She nodded and squeezed his hand. "I think I get it now. How about we try another set of stairs?"

They only made it down one more before he had to rest. He pushed her away and leaned heavily against the wall. He flinched when she touched his shoulder. "Mr. Winchester… adrenaline from the panic got you onto the roof. You were up there long enough for it to wear off. You need to take your time getting back to your room." She leaned into him and rubbed his back. "Just take deep breaths. Maybe you were a strong person before you had your accident but you were exhausted when you came in. You're still recovering because healing is a drain on your resources, especially when you're not eating."

When her hands went to the stethoscope in her pocket, he grabbed them to stop her. He shook his head. "Well, tough. You're acting worse than my five-year-old nephew." She unsnapped his shoulder and placed the cold end against his sternum. "Not too fast but you'll be happy to know it's steady and strong." She sat there and rested an elbow on a knee. "So… I said the wrong thing. It happens but I won't apologize for it. You coming with me or do I need to find a security guard to help you back to your room?" He took a deep breath and leaned his forehead against the cool bar. "Mr. Winchester—"

Dean snapped his fingers at her and motioned with his hand that he wanted to write. She passed the pen and notepad to him and then blinked at it for a moment when he handed it back. "Mr. Winchester. Dad. Dean. Me." He nodded, shutting his eyes at the sound of his name in her voice. "Okay, then. Dean, let's get going. We're almost there. Just one more flight of stairs and then I can get you a wheelchair. Then I can push you back to your room. Maybe I'll find Jacob to give you a sponge-down and then you can get to sleep." She eyed his expression as he absorbed her words. "Well, I'm not going to give you a sponge bath. Besides, I thought you were mad at me."

He shrugged and took a deep breath before sitting up. She snapped his shoulder back up and counted off to get them to their feet. Step after step, they made it down the flight of stairs and didn't stop at the door. She leaned him against the wall and raced down the hall to pull a wheelchair from behind a supply cart. Dean really didn't want to sit in that chair but he also didn't want to walk any further. He landed in the chair and let her put his feet on the footrests. She pushed him confidently down to the elevator. "See, that wasn't so bad. I'd bet money that you don't let anyone help you and if it hadn't been for me following you, that you would have caught your death up there." He shrugged. "Uh-huh. Mules got nothing on your stubbornness."

Dean endured the ride in silence but she didn't seem to like silence. "So, Dean, huh. Uncommon name. Do you do this to your brother? Or your uncle?" A shrug. "Okay, you know… this game gets tiring and I might expect it from—" She paused as she pushed him onto his floor. "A child but you're what? 25?" He shook his head. "Come on." He flicked his fingers up at her. "29, huh. Such a baby face. Still… this whole strong, silent—"

She stopped a foot from his room. She could see someone walking around in there. "He's not in his room, kid… how would I know? He's your brother… Sam, calm down. We'll find him. He couldn't have gone far with all the drugs they've been pumping into him… No, it's not… No, when he was five, he did the same thing… Yes, he did… and yes, I did know you guys back then… He stopped talking after your mother passed and when he was five, he ran off on your dad… found him asleep in the Impala… well, I didn't say he'd be there now. He's not five."

"Do you want to go in?" She whispered in his ear. After a beat, he nodded. She pushed him around the doorframe into the room. "Oh, hi Mr. Singer. We went for a walk. It's a nice night out."

"He asked for a walk?" Bobby raised an eyebrow at the silent man in the chair.

"Not so much." She shook her head and lowered the footrests to get him to his feet. "Dean, do you want me to change your gown now or would you like a shower first?" His eyes lit up at the thought of a shower. "Okay. I'll get Jacob in here to help you with that. You behave for your uncle or I will be back."

"Like threats work on him." Bobby snorted. "And one like that would definitely have him kicking up a fuss." He put his phone back to his ear. "He's back. Maybe you should get up here before he punches an orderly." He eyed the nurse and his 'nephew' for a long moment. "Looks like he's got another nurse under his thrall." That time, Dean snorted and shook his head, turned away from the nurse. "Well, he's your brother so you get him to take a shower." He closed his phone and shoved it in his pocket. "You can't write a note so that he knows where you're gonna be?"

"All right. I'll leave you boys be. Don't be too noisy or I'll make you all leave." She made a few marks in Dean's chart, then left them alone.

--

When Dean woke, he waited until his vision cleared enough to see Sam sitting beside his bed. "Don't let her come in here anymore." With that said, he rolled onto his back to force away the memories of his dreams where she slid her hands over his at dinner; where she conspired with him to get real food some place away from his vegan brother; where she knew his favorite beer and just what to say and just how to kiss his worries away.

"Dean?" Sam jumped at the sound of his brother's voice. He whipped his head around. "Don't let who in?"

"Carmen." Dean croaked out and then turned his eyes to the window. Sky, miles and miles of it. "I don't want her in here, anymore."

"Um…"

"Morning, handsome. You going for another walk tonight?" The nurse in question bounded into the room and took his chart off the wall. "I'm not on, so things could get hairy with the staff that will be here tonight." She looked to them, her tone and words bright but her smile strained and weary. "You're not too tired out, are you?"

"Sam." Dean whispered and kept his face turned away. "Please."

"He's talking! When did that start?" Carmen exclaimed, her smile going from forced to natural in an instant.

"Can I talk to you outside?" Sam stood abruptly and guided the confused nurse out. "What happened last night?"

"Just what I said happened."

"He hasn't spoken in days, almost weeks… and the first thing he says to me is that he doesn't want you coming in his room anymore. You explain that to me."

"Nothing happened. He had a panic attack last night because you weren't here. He went to the roof and he tired himself out. I just helped him back to his room. Jacob helped him shower and he went back to bed. That's all I know. I haven't been back into his room until just now."

"How can I believe that?" Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It wasn't like Dean had said anything specific… but knowing Dean… "I don't know what happened between the two of you but I don't think that having sexual relations with patients is—"

"Whoa!" She crossed her arms. "Did he tell you that?"

"Well, no."

"How dare you suggest that? Do you know your brother at all?" She glared at him. "I can't do or say the slightest thing without him blushing so red he looks like a lobster."

"Are we talking about the same person?" Sam blinked at her.

"He's shy."

"Clearly, one of us fell on our heads and I'm pretty sure it wasn't me. My brother doesn't have a shy bone in his body. He's usually out catting…" Then the sentence died in his mouth. He turned to look at his brother's back where he was curled up on the bed. "He used to cat around a lot… I… I forget because the bandages are still on." Sam turned and leaned against the wall. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest anything about you but understand that my brother has gotten us into all sorts of trouble because of his sexual escapades. It's been a fact of my life since he lost his virginity."

"What are you talking about, exactly?"

"He relies on his good looks… a lot. Normally, he'd have charmed every woman of every age on this floor. He'd have the hospital rigged for his convenience. He communicates with me… in his way but I forget he wasn't talking until just now. He…"

"He's lost." She nodded.

"Right. He won't know what to do without his face. I'm sorry, again…"

"He's very depressed. I didn't tell the doctor about his trip up to the roof and maybe I should have."

"You're his type. If he'd only and really lost his tongue, I have no doubt he'd sleep with every woman in this hospital within a week or two. It's all he needs. A look and women just… fall all over him."

"Well, he's still got that going for him. He'll be okay, Sam. He's adjusting. When the bandages come off, he's going to be… overwhelmed. I think maybe he's already thinking about what he's going to look like. It's probably not that bad." She patted his arm. "He thinks things are hopeless but there are more things to a man than his face."

"Not to my brother there isn't… he's a misogynistic prick… and somehow…"

"I don't quite believe that but he's your brother. I'm just trying to do my job."

"Yeah… I'll talk to him but… maybe he just thinks you're too pretty to have around him. He didn't say anything about anyone else. Just you in particular."

She frowned at him. "Really? What'd he say? 'Don't let that mean bitch from last night in my room again'?"

"No." Sam shook his head. "He said 'don't let her in here anymore' and I asked who and he said 'Carmen'… you're the only Carmen, right?"

"Yeah…" She shook her head and turned to go. "huh."

TBC