A/N: I really don' t have a good excuse for not updating this except for writers block and laziness. A big thank you for the people, you know who you are, who kept me on track and encouraged me to keep writing this story. It's much appreciated. Enjoy!

Artie's room was quiet – too quiet. No longer was there the irritable, but at the same time relaxing, sound of a heart monitor beeping along with a pulse. The thought sounded morbid out of context, so I had to remind myself that he was just in another room. I had to tell myself that his heart was beating just the same. The silence left me with the sound of my conscience, which only fed me negativity. I had to get out; I needed people around me to cancel out the pessimism coursing between my ears. Placing the notebook down where I found it, I got up and shuffled through Artie's belongings until I found one the bulky knit sweater he had worn to the hospital a couple days ago. It was a blue plaid cardigan with black and white accents, and large buttons. I smiled at its familiarity and brought it around my shoulders before snaking my arms though the over-sized sleeves. The sweater was more for comfort than anything else – I liked the way it fell around me loosely and smelt vaguely of his cologne. A warm sense of happiness was injected into my system, and I was then able to leave the room with enough confidence to hide the fact that I had just been crying.

I trudged slowly down the stairs taking every step; toe to heal – toe to heal. By the time I was on the main floor, I had let the long sleeves of the sweater fall from around my elbow to hanging limp beyond my fingertips. I slid them back up before anyone else could see otherwise as I circled around to the waiting room.

I took a seat near the back left corner of the room, staying distant from the others. On the right of me was an open seat, where I placed my purse, and on the left was a coffee table that separated the row of chairs I was in. A small plastic plant was placed on the table along with a stack of various magazines. I took one of the magazines and opened it to a random page in my lap; but yet I couldn't read a single word. My mind continued to wander – where's Artie? How's the surgery going? When will he be out? Will he be okay? After ten minutes, I gave up, put the magazine back, and sat back against my chair.

Instead, I began to observe the people around me. Across the room from me was a young Indian man with coarse curly hair reading a thick and well-loved book. A couple seats over from him was a pale and tired looking woman with a baby sized car seat in her lap. Her left leg bounced, but it looked more out of nervousness than to keep the baby calm. Down the row from me was a slouched elderly man that coughed mercilessly every ten or fifteen minutes. People come to hospitals because they're sick, giving life, or dying. Was Artie in a special category of his own? I hoped so, for he was healthy as a horse and incapable of baring a child.

"Tina?"

I scanned the body before me as I picked up my head. It was a woman in salmon pink scrubs with a stethoscope around her neck – I had seen her before, she was one of Artie's nurses. In each of her hands was a paper coffee mug with a plastic lid.

"Hi, I'm Lisa…Artie's one of my patients, we've met before," she said cheerfully.

"I-I remember," I softly responded.

"He asked me to check up on you as I prepped him for surgery," she said. "Coffee?"

"Thank you," I said, taking the warm cup out of her outstretched hand. I inhaled the aroma and let it sink inside me.

"He probably won't be out for another five hours. Even then it'll take a while for the anesthesia to wear off, and they'll probably want to run some tests after he's awake. You should go home and get some rest, Tina."

"I can't – I promised I'd be there when he wakes up," I said, taking a sip of the hot liquid.

"We can call you-"

I shook my head, "thank you…Lisa, but we live far away; I'd rather just stay here. I can't risk it."

"Are you sure? You look awfully tired."

"I'll be alright, but thank you again…for the coffee too."

The nurse nodded sympathetically before returning to her work. I already hurt Artie once that day and I'd never forgive myself if I broke this promise too – especially if something went wrong.

With over five hours to spare, I began to think about what to expect as a result from the surgery. It was experimental, so even the doctors couldn't say for certain. Their hope was that the procedure would successfully give sensory and motion back to Artie's legs. However, the possibilities were endless. The surgery could leave him further paralyzed from a faulty incision, or only restore a fraction of what he lost. Maybe nothing would happen. Maybe I'd lose him. Either way, I knew there would be a long road ahead. Even if the surgery was 100% successful, Artie wouldn't be able to jump out of bed and start walking around. It'd take a lot of physical therapy to regain muscle loss and to teach him how to walk again.

While waiting, I must have had fallen asleep because there was a gap between what I last remembered and a soft voice calling my name and shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes, and crouched down at my level was Dr. Miller. She looked the same as when she was walking down the hall alongside Artie, which helped me get out of my post-midday nap delusion.

"I-Is he awake?" I sleepily asked.

"No, no, he just got out of surgery."

"Dr. Millar, will he be alright?" I asked, sitting up.

"We won't know his condition until he's awake, but there were no complications and Dr. Chang tells me that surgery went smoothly."

"C-Can I see him?" I nervously asked.

"He won't be awake for a couple hours, Tina."

"I know…I just want to sit with him," I said. "Plus I – promised him that I'd be there when he wakes up."

She took a second to ponder before smiling, "alright, Tina. Follow me."

After gathering my belongings, I followed Dr. Miller down the familiar route to Artie's room. Honestly, I wasn't sure what to expect, but I hoped under sedition – it just looked like he was sleeping. Dr. Millar stayed uncomfortably quiet all the way up and it made me feel nervous…like there was something she wasn't telling me.

"Someone will check up on him in an hour," she said, stopping at Artie's door. I nodded and she held open door for me.

With a smile of gratitude, I cautiously walked into the room and let the door shut behind me before I dared to look forward. There he was. Artie was laid on his right side so that he was facing me and the pulse meter was back to singing its same old song. A clear plastic mask covered his mouth and nose, and a tube extended from the mask to a machine on the opposite side of his bed. The machines movements corresponded with the up and down motion of Artie's chest – it was breathing for him. I bit my lip and took a step closer to the bed. He was laid on top of the covers, was dressed in a new gown, and the cap that concealed his thick and overgrown hair was gone. I sat down on the edge of his bed inches away from his abdomen, being very careful not to disturb his placement.

"Hey there, handsome," I said, cupping his prickly cheek in my hand.

Lisa was the one to check up on Artie at the hour mark Dr. Miller had mentioned. The ventilator had been a precaution on account of the heavy sedative, but she removed it because he was breathing easily on his own on account of the drugs wearing off. Another half an hour went by before Artie began to regain consciousness. I had brought out my book to pass the time, and while I was reading, I felt a gentle tap at my right thigh. I jumped slightly, looked down, and followed the skinny white arm up to a sleepy looking face.

"Artie," I smiled.

"Hey baby," he slurred, keeping his eyes half way shut.

I giggled at his half-conscious state and put down my book to touch his face. Artie leaned his cheek into my hand and brushed his lips against the inside of my palm for a discreet kiss. A smile drew across my face and before I knew it, he blinked himself back asleep. I took my hand away and picked up my book again to make the wait for his full conscious state less tedious. A huge weight was taken off of my shoulders.

Dr. Miller came back for another visit and I had told her that Artie woke up for a minute. She wanted to start poking and prodding him right away, but I told her that I'd come find her the second he woke up again – I may have lied a bit.

I kept reading until a whole hand glided up my thigh. Taking my nose out of my book, I smiled and looked down at him. Artie's beautiful eyes were fully open, but he squinted on account of being nearsighted. On the table next to his bed I exchanged my close to finished book for his glasses, and slid them onto his nose. The corners of his mouth pressed up weekly against his cheeks.

"Hi," I softly said.

Artie blinked slowly, "hey."

"I'm really supposed to get your doctor but-"

"No, stay," he cutely begged, reaching his hand across my lap to hold onto my wrist. "I'll stay awake, I promise."

"Your arms still work," I cheerfully muttered to myself. "Okay, I'll stay a little bit."

"W-what was the first thing you said?"

"Nothing," I said, shaking my head with a smile. "How do you feel?"

"My back stings a bit, but it's not excruciating…I'm also a little dizzy."

I nodded and shifted the wrist he held onto so that I could intertwine our fingers. A question about his condition burned in the back of my mind, and as I ran my thumb back and forth over his hand, I thought about how to word it correctly.

"Do you…feel anything – new?" I asked, avoiding direct eye contact.

"I-I don't know," he answered.

"Can I touch you?"

"Go for it."

Turning slightly at the waist, I faced the lower part of his body. His pale and bone thin legs were scattered across the length of the bed. Biting my lip, I placed my hand firmly above his knee. "C-can you feel me?"

"I think so…I don't know, Tee."

I personally thought it was obvious if you could feel something or not. Either he could feel me and didn't know what he was supposed to feel or he was imagining that he could feel me because he wanted to so badly. I looked down at his leg – there was only one way to find out. Between two fingers, I grasped a fine and light brown hair before quickly pulling my hand away. Artie's whole leg twitched and I smiled widely.

"Tina, what was that for! I'm out of surgery two hours and-"

"Artie!"

"What?"

"You can feel."