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 and Coach got off the elevator on the surgical floor. It was quieter than the Emergency Room, but was much more like a hospital than the birth center, especially in its smell. Tim felt himself practically dragging his feet as he walked in.

The waiting room was lined with couches and comfortable chairs and had a television in the corner. Except for a woman sitting at the desk, the place was empty. Tim went over to her.

"Can you tell me if Billy Riggins is out of surgery yet?" he asked.

The woman typed something into the computer and the clicked the mouse a few times, mumbling to herself as she worked. "Looks like they've just moved him to the recovery room. I expect the doctor will be looking for you soon to let you know how it went."

Tim thanked her and then he and Coach sat down by the television, which was showing a football game. Add a couple of beers and this could almost feel like a regular Sunday afternoon, thought Tim. Except, of course, that it wasn't.

He caught Coach looking at him a couple of times, the muscle in his jaw twitching like he wanted to say something. But they sat in comfortable silence until the doctor came. Coach turned off the television. The doctor sat down.

"We removed the spleen without complications. Long term, the prognosis is extremely favorable, although it does increase his susceptibility to infections, particularly of a bacterial nature."

Tim blinked. "So he's okay?"

"He is. He's been moved from recovery to the post-surgical suite, so one of you can go in and sit with him, if you'd like." The doctor stood up.

Tim looked at Coach Taylor. "You don't have to wait out here."

"I know. But what are the chances of the ladies letting me watch football in peace down there?" asked Coach as he turned the TV back on.

Tim followed the doctor through a set of swinging doors and then was directed down a hallway to room 712. Tim walked into the room slowly, watching as a nurse hung up an IV bag and then picked up a chart and started to make notes.

"Hi, Tim," she said with a blinding smile. She was pretty, tall and thin with short blonde hair and big, brown eyes.

Tim was saved by her name tag. "Hi, Cassie."

Tim wasn't trying to be rude, but he didn't know what else to say to her. He sat down on the chair next to the bed and looked at Billy. He hoped his brother would open his eyes soon, but at the same time, he dreaded the conversation they would need to have when he did. Cassie drifted out of the room.

He didn't know how long he sat there, watching Billy and trying to think about nothing. Because if he thought about anything, he was sure he'd start to cry. The worst part was that he didn't even know what he would be crying about. Mindy, he supposed, but it was more than just Mindy being gone. He knew how this news was going to effect his brother.

"Timmy," said Billy in a hoarse voice.

Tim stood up and tried to smile at his brother, but couldn't. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I was hit by a truck, funny enough, so I suppose I feel exactly like I'm supposed to."

"The doctor said you're fine, surgery was good."

"Where's Mindy?"

Tim looked down, trying to find the words and courage to break his brother's heart. But his pause and reluctance were enough.

"No." Billy's face crumpled and he turned away. Tim put his hand on Billy's shoulder, feeling helpless.

"I'm sorry, Billy."

He looked at a spot on the pillow near Billy's head because he just couldn't watch him cry Tim took a deep breath and looked around the room, locating a tissue box on the nightstand behind him. He pulled out a few tissues and handed them to Billy.

"Shit, Timmy. What about the kids?"

"They're fine, Billy. The babysitter is with them. Al called her and asked her to stay on longer. I don't know what Al said to her, but I know she didn't tell her anything was wrong because she didn't want to scare her or have the kids find out before we knew what was going on."

"But what....how am I going to tell them?"

Tim raked a hand through his hair and sighed. "I don't know."

"And how long am I going to be in here?" Billy had stopped crying, but he still wouldn't look at Tim.

"Four or five days, the doctor said."

"No way. Screw that. I want to go home now, be with my kids." Billy struggled to sit up, but the sudden movement caused pain.

"Billy, look, you have to stay here and get stronger. I'll bring the older kids here, they'll see you're okay and you can, or we can, tell them about Mindy. OK?"

Billy nodded. "Give me a couple of hours."

Tim sat down. "Sure, Billy. No problem."

"Timmy, I think I need to be alone. Can you....Shit, I didn't even ask you – is Al all right?"

Tim nodded, feeling guilty that his wife was fine and Billy's was dead and if he hadn't called because he was scared about Al, then Mindy would still be alive.

"Billy, I am so sorry. I called you...and then this happened. It's my fault." Tim's voice as low and rough.

"Were you driving the truck?"

Tim looked confused. "No."

"Yeah, and you weren't driving our car either. So, it's not your fault. Not even close."

"But..."

"No....Look, I just want to be alone for awhile."

Tim put his hands on his hips. "No way, Billy. I can stay with you for awhile. Mrs. Coach is with Al, so she doesn't need me."

"Timmy, please. Do this for me. Leave me alone and then bring Amber and TJ at 7. No, make it 7.30 so Jack will be in bed already, you won't get any problems from him. Okay?"

"You're just going to tell me to leave until I finally leave, aren't you?" Tim sighed.

"Yeah. So go. Please. Make this easier on both of us."

"Okay." Tim held his hands up in a gesture of surrender and walked out of the room.