He forced the air back into his lungs as he saw the room begin to spin. Grabbing the chair again, for stability as much as anything else, he collapsed into it. Had he heard her wrong? No, he realized, as the air in the room seemed to disappear again. She'd said our daughter.

"Kelly," he shook her shoulders, forcing himself to be gentle-reminding himself to be calm for her-even as adrenaline seemed to overtake his body.

Answers. He needed answers-answers only she could give him. Why hadn't she called? How could she keep her from him? The questions seemed overwhelming. He'd missed so much of her life already. He'd lost so much time. What if?

Shaking his head, he stood up quickly, taking her hand before leaning down to gently kiss her forehead. "I'm going to see her...I'm going to tell her that her Mom is okay. Don't you make a liar out of me."

The frenzy of activity had calmed somewhat as he glanced back into the room. A nurse he hadn't seen before stepped out.

She smiled at him. "You can go in now if you want. They'll be moving her soon."

"How old," he paused, clearing his throat and taking a breath to steady himself before attempting the question again. "How old is she?"

"Four," the nurse responded, staring back into the room with a smile. "A little thing, but quite the fighter."

She got that from her mother, Joey thought. "What's her name?". Even as he said it, his heart broke again. She was his daughter and he didn't even know her name.

"Joanna," she smiled, "but the files say they call her Joey".

"Joey." His throat felt thick as he struggled to maintain his composure. His daughter..his namesake...his little girl...their little girl. He didn't even know her and he already loved her with his whole heart.

No matter how many different people he'd prayed for, no matter how many different families he'd comforted, nothing compared to the feeling that swept over him as he stood in that room. So many times he'd watched patients, he'd stood in the doorways listening to the sounds of machines as they monitored every vital function of a person, but tonight he was watching his daughter.

There were so many wires and lines running from every possible direction that he hesitated to even touch her tiny hand for fear he would send one of the many machines into beeping hysteria. He fought the urge to reach out and wrap his arms around her. All he wanted to do was to hold her close to him, to promise her that she'd be ok, to tell her that he didn't know, that he never knew, that if he had known, he would have been there….for both of them. But he couldn't.

The questions about why he didn't know swirled in his mind, but he didn't allow his thoughts to focus on them. Right now what mattered…the only thing that mattered was that his daughter…his family…had to be ok.

Carefully he reached down, swallowing hard as he brushed the hair away from her small face. Blood was streaked throughout the shiny blonde hair and he felt tears sting at his eyes as he noticed for the first time how much she reminded him of Kelly.

Her tiny hand felt lost in his as he grasped it gently. Words seemed to escape him. What do you say to a four year old child that has no idea who you are and is suddenly one of the most important people in the world to you?

He shook his head, feeling the tears already falling down his face. "You don't know me," he whispered, touching her small hand to the side of his face, "but I know your Mommy. She's okay and you will be too because you're strong…just like she is."

The door opened behind him and he turned.

"I'm sorry, but they're ready to move her now." The nurse hesitated at the door, waiting on Joey to move away from the bed. She'd only known Joey for a few weeks, but she could tell how connected he was to this patient and she didn't want to interrupt.

"I'll be back as soon as they get you settled ok?" Joey closed his eyes tightly, dreading the feeling of her little hand slipping from his. He never even knew she was a part of his life and now he was being forced to watch her being wheeled away.

The two most important people in his world were in hospital beds fighting for their lives. The job he did every day was one where he brought comfort and yet he could find none for himself. As he stood in the hallway and watched the bed wheel away from him, he looked up towards the ceiling.

"I tell everyone else to ask you for help," he whispered. "Now I'm asking for myself."

"I never realized they were so loud," Joey whispered sadly, peering over at the clock on the wall and looking up at the nurse as she glanced down at the clipboard and took note of Kelly's most recent numbers.

With his job, he often came into these rooms. He sat beside the family members, held their hands, and prayed with them, but he never had to stay. He never had to sit there hour after hour and wait for news.

He'd never listened to the incessant ticking of those clocks. The minutes seemed to drag by as he sat by Kelly's bed. Occasionally one of the machines would beep and he'd straighten in the small, uncomfortable chair—his anxiety heightened by worry and a lack of sleep.

The nurses had given him the same speech that he so often gave to others. 'Go home. Get some sleep. We'll call you if anything changes.'

But he couldn't. He couldn't stand the thought of leaving her…of walking away from her or his daughter not for one more moment. Part of him was afraid that if he left, even just to go get a cup of coffee that they might be gone when he got back.

"Any change?" he asked hopefully as he watched the nurse check the IVs again.

She smiled sadly at him shaking his head. "She's holding her own. Her vitals are steady." She could tell the news wasn't what he wanted to hear and she reached out, touching his shoulder. "It's good news. She's a lot more stable than she was when she was brought in."

Joey nodded. This was true and he knew it, but she still wasn't awake. She still couldn't talk to him. She still couldn't give the answers he so desperately wanted.

"That's because of you, you know," the nurse said quietly.

Joey shook his head. "No…you don't know her. She's tough as nails." A smile spread across his face as he thought back on the many times he'd gone against Kelly. He'd lost every time. When she decided to do something, she did it…no matter what happened…no matter who was in her way.

"Believe me," he continued, "She doesn't need me."

The machine beside him beeped again and the nurse turned to check it. Joey couldn't see anything but the green eyes that finally stared back at him. "Kelly," he breathed, as he took her hand in his.