Disclaimer: I don't own anything here (except for Al) and am just doing this for fun and to pass the long months until Season 4.

Tim felt the least he could do was walk Lyla into the hospital, even though he regretted the decision as soon as the familiar smell of disinfectant hit his nose as they walked through the door.

"You can wait outside, really," said Lyla.

"It's okay."

They paused in front of a sign with directions, looking for the cardiac care unit. Tim deciphered the map and led the way through the twisting corridors to the unit, which had its own waiting room. He spotted Al's curls just peeking up over the edge of a couch and headed over to her. She was still in her business suit, her shoes on the floor and her legs curled up underneath her.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked her softly as he put a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up at him and the tension eased off her face. She stood up and saw Lyla, who was standing awkwardly a few feet away.

"He's in the recovery room, they said. He should be back here in about 20 minutes or so," Al told her.

"Thanks, you guys, you don't need to wait with me. It'll be fine."

Al looked at Tim and he knew she wouldn't leave Lyla sitting there alone.

"Are George and Bruno in the truck?" asked Al.

"Just George. I dropped Bruno off at home so I'd have room for Lyla." He smiled and then saw the look on Al's face. "It's okay, the windows are partly opened and it's chilly outside. Really, it's okay."

"Still, he could start chewing or something. Maybe it'd be best if you went down and waited outside with him."

Tim recognized the escape she was giving him and nodded gratefully. He gave Lyla a quick hug and kiss on the cheek and told Al he'd be waiting for her.

Both women watched him leave and then looked at each other, a bit of discomfort lingering in the air. Al sat back down on the couch and Lyla sat in a chair across from her.

"My father said you saved his life. Thank you for that."

"Your father is kind, but he's also on a lot of medication right now. I just did what anybody would have done."

"Still, it was good that he had you there, since you've been to med school and know what to do in emergencies."

Al's eyes narrowed and Lyla wondered what she'd said wrong. But Al didn't say anything, so Lyla felt obligated to find a way through the conversation.

"Thanks, by the way, for giving me that advice on Christmas Eve. It helped me realize what I really wanted so I was able to focus on med school."

"I'm glad to hear it. You starting to get responses yet?"

"Yeah. I've gotten into Harvard and Texas Tech so far. Still waiting to hear from Columbia and Baylor."

"Well done – if you can get into Harvard, you can get into any place."

"Jason said you got into Harvard, but you went to North Dakota. Do you mind if I ask why?"

Al's hands clenched into fists and she could feel her blood pressure rising. She didn't remember telling Jason about Harvard.

"North Dakota gave me a full scholarship," she said, fighting to keep her voice neutral.

The doctor picked that moment to step out into the waiting room. "Ms. Garrity?"

Lyla raised her hand a little, like she was in elementary school and the doctor walked over to her.

"The angioplasty went well and we put in a stent, which should help keep the vessel open. The next few days will be crucial in determining the long-term prognosis, but thanks to your friend's early intervention, your father should be just fine."

Lyla thanked both Al and the doctor. "Can I see him now?"

"Of course," the doctor turned, motioning for Lyla to follow him.

"You coming back?"

Al shook her head. "I'm exhausted. Give my best to Buddy and tell him I'll visit him in the next few days some time."

Lyla gave Al a tentative hug, feeling a bit awkward about the whole thing but trying to treat her like any other friend.