"Hi, Koul. My name is Dr. Bovell, and I will be substituting for Dr. Yablonski for your appointment today." Dr. Luc Bovell shook Koul's hand as he sat down in the chair beside the young Sudanese man. He was met with a perplexed gaze as the young man sat on top of the small table.

"Where is Andy?" The young man's lively eyes were now sharp with surprise and anxiety.

"Andrew is…" Luc tried to find the right word for Andrew's situation. Why had the normally composed doctor disappeared as sudden as he did, and when one of his heart transplant patients was waiting for him? "Andrew is somewhere, Koul," he said with a convincing smile. "He'll come back soon, especially since I heard that you and he are close."

Koul didn't respond well to Luc's reassurance. In fact, he seemed to become more agitated. "His name is Andy," he said through his thick Sudanese accent. "He doesn't like it if you call him Andrew." Koul paused for a moment, and the added nervously, "Where did Andy go?"

Luc shrugged his shoulders flamboyantly. "I don't know." He seemed uncomfortable. "What matters is that I'm here, and that Andrew will soon be back."

Koul was about to correct Luc again about Andy's name when Dr. Miranda Foster entered the examining room. "Do you have any idea where Andy is?" The rebellious woman also seemed agitated, and she tapped her foot impatiently. "Dr. Reed needs him in the ER, and if he's not here, then someone is going to have to assist in the ER, because he certainly isn't with Koul or you, Dr. Bovell. I don't where he is, and I'm about to call security." Miranda seemed winded, and was more than angry, Luc noticed. There was worry in her eyes.

"Has Andrew ever done this before?" Luc faced her. He was no longer uncomfortable, and he seemed calmer than Miranda or Koul. That's because I haven't worked with him in years.

"Once," answered Miranda, "but…" she trailed off, and then shook her head. "He's never been gone for more than an hour, and it's passed that." A hint of fear crept in her voice. "Has he gone AWOL?"

"Yes." Luc was strangely calm. "I think he has."

Andy was sitting next to a man in dim bar. He hadn't meant to stay more than an hour, but this man had other problems. Andy looked at him. The man was older, with wrinkled skin and graying temples. He was swallowing a mouthful of alcohol, squinting his eyes nervously at whoever entered the door. The man appeared to be very relieved to have Andy with him, although they hadn't started talking yet.

"What do you want this time, Michael?" Andy asked bluntly to his uncle. The watery-blue eyes looked up at him.

"I want your help," he rasped. Michael only got as far as that.

"I'm not helping a murderer," stated Andy coldly.

"Murder?" Michael repeated with a laugh. He glanced over his shoulder nervously before facing his nephew again. "It was an accident. Paul –"

"Paul is dead," Andy growled, "and his body was found with the bullet you put in his head."

Michael feigned innocence. "Are you a detective now?"

"No," Andy admitted. He would not meet Michael's gaze. "I am married to one, though." He had to stop from biting his lip at those words. "I don't love you anymore."

"You're not married, Andrew." Anger coated Michael's voice like honey. "You don't even live in the same house as your wife." Andy's surprise was seen clearly on his face. "Do you think I don't know you? I've raised you and Rena as if you were my own." Michael paused to lick his lips, and didn't seem to notice the pain in Andy's eyes when he mentioned how he and Rena had grown up together. "And I know you, Andrew. I know you better than you know yourself. You want to come back to the world of crime with me. Why else would you come to see me after all this time?" Andy's cell phone interrupted him, and they both watched it silently as it rang for a moment. Then Andy tried to answer it as Michael slammed his hand down on his nephew's own. "Don't answer it," he growled. Andy glared, but kept his hand still.

"Andy, it's Dr. Jordan," said the voicemail. "Where the hell are you? Miranda tells me that you've been gone for over an hour. We need you here."

Andy held his breath as he heard Dr. Jordan's voice vibrating through the phone. He felt as if she was in the room with him. He wished that she was, because then he wouldn't be in this suicidal situation with Michael. I actually hope that she'll lecture me when I return.

"Was that one of your colleagues?" Michael's voice brought Andy into the present. He stiffly nodded. "Do you really think that they will accept you once they know the truth about you? What you did? They won't accept you for who you are, my boy. They're not your friends. Only I will accept you as you are. Stop playing doctor, Andrew." His voice was reduced to a pleading tone. "This is where you truly belong." He didn't let go of Andy's hand as he spoke. Andy felt his own heart rate accelerate as Michael said those dreaded questions, about his past, about his colleagues at Three Rivers. He withdrew his eyes from Michael's gaze. There was no telling if they would understand him or his past. He had to tell them the truth this time when he came back. Perhaps they would surprise him, as Rena did. Andy closed his eyes, and saw his wife as a girl of seventeen. She was willowy and had long and flowing dark brown hair. "I'll always watch out for you." His heart rate increased again, but it wasn't because of fear this time.

"Maybe it was, back then." Andy said to Michael. "But now my place is there. I belong there. Three Rivers, my hospital, is where I belong, not with you."

Andy didn't look back as he walked away.

He wasn't far away from the bar when he heard a crunch of snow behind him. He looked around and saw Casper standing in front of him.

"Hello, Casper."

"Yablonski," Casper acknowledged. Andy saw that he held a knife in his hand. It gleamed like an aneurism beside the soft white snow.

"You know," said Andy, "you can't easily murder me with that."

"And how is that?" Casper snarled.

"Well, come to think of it, there are a number of ways that you could –"

"Shut up!" Casper took a step forward as he edged near Andy. Andy carefully backed away into the alley. Casper followed. "I don't care about what your uncle needs. I just want to never to see you again."

Andy didn't blink. His memories of his hated youth came back to him, and he didn't feel afraid of Casper for some reason. "Go ahead, Casper. My heart is gone anyway." He said this with more emotion than he intended, and he wasn't prepared for the punch to the face.

Andy's head collided with the brinks, and a burst a pain escalated through his skull. He was still on his feet though, and he glanced towards Casper's direction. The older man was a muscular as ever, and as always, he was ready for a fight. He didn't give Andy time to respond. Casper punched Andy in the stomach, causing the wind to be knocked out of the younger man. He fell to his knees, where Casper kicked him hard in the face. Blinding pain rendered Andy useless as he felt the kicks smashing his face and head. He tasted blood, and it felt as if needles were pushing through his dermis. The attack seemed to stop for a second, and Andy tried to blink out the blood out of his eyes. He also tried to stand, but was lifted up off the ground as if he was a small kitten. Casper's squinting eyes stared at him, and he managed to spit a splatter of blood on his face. Casper roared, and then slammed Andy's right lateral side onto the hard concrete. The younger man's right arm shattered. Waves of agony pierced Andy through his entire body, and he screamed so loud it seemed as if the entire city of Pittsburgh could hear.

"Shut up!" Casper yelled to Andy's cries. He then pulled out his gleaming knife, and thrust it into Andy's abdomen. Andy's screams did cease. He gasped as the knife was pulled out, gleaming with his blood. He felt nauseous and again tried to scream, but only his gasps and waves of agony answered him. He felt blood drip down onto his jacket, and felt it coat his scrubs. He tried to breathe, and chocked on air, not able to speak. Casper threw him down onto the ground where Andy lay sprawled, gasping and seeping more blood onto the white snow. His cell phone had fallen out of his pocket during the fight, and now it gleamed illegible letters from the screen. He found his consciousness fading.

"Goodnight, Yablonski," Andy heard a faint voice and steps that echoed in his ears. Pain came in waves, from his right arm, head, face, and umbilical area. No… He felt something that was not blood fall onto the ground where his blood coated around him. I…

Then the nightmare ceased, and the snow continued to fall onto the motionless body of the surgeon.