Because even though fifteen years have passed, I would recognize her in a heartbeat. Her brown hair is cut short as it had always been, and her face is that same pixie face. I remember Konner used to tease her and call her Tinkerbell because she always looked like a little pixie. Delicate, yet what a spitfire! In fact, she reminded me a lot of my grandmother in that regard.

I silently go to stand next to her bed and stare for several moments at the IV bags, the small bandages on her face, arms and hands and the catheter pouch hanging down at the side of the bed. So familiar and so haunting.

"Elaine?" I whisper. "Elaine, are you awake?"

There is no response. The life sign indicators tell me her pulse and breathing rates are steady, but she doesn't move a muscle. This must have been what I was like right after I'd had my first surgery. Out cold and immobile. I see a chair over in the corner and I move it to the side of her bed. I sit down and take her small hand in mind. It feels so cold and lifeless and without warning my mind flashes backwards and I see my father picking up my cold and lifeless hand as he kept vigil at my bedside.

I can see his lips moving, but I can't hear what it is he's saying, nor can I remember. But he's talking to me with my hand held in both of his, and for the first time I realize he's crying. There are tears streaming down his face and before that even registers, the words coming from his mouth stream into my mind, like my subconscious is finally opening up and allowing me to hear them. And words are starting to come out of my mouth as well, as I grasp Elaine's hand with both of mine.

"Do you remember when you used to come over in the Spring? Remember those two swallows who insisted upon building their nest right on top of the light over our back door? As soon as they got their eggs laid, they'd start dive-bombing us and you always used to run away with your hands over your head because you thought for sure they'd get you."

I find myself smiling as the good memories start to flow.

"And that squirrel, remember he used to live in that huge oak tree behind our house? You'd come over with dried-up corn and sit on the edge of the sandbox forever waiting for him to climb down and come near you. You called him Crackers, and he got more and more comfortable with you until finally you had him eating the corn right out of your hand. Do you remember that summer, Elaine?"

I look at her face and wonder if she can hear me.

"Or how about that time you tried using our leaf blower? That last fall before you moved, and you ended up on your back in the middle of a pile of leaves with the leaf blower sending them up like a geyser. Remember how mad Grandma got?"

I lower my forehead until it's touching my hands, which still hold hers. I can see in my mind's eye, my father doing the same thing.

"God, and that winter when the six of us froze our asses off on the snowmobiles? I remember you hanging on so tight I couldn't breathe, and we stayed out on those things all day without any lunch or anything until finally we got back right when the sun was setting. I'm surprised none of us got frostbite. Oh, your dad was so mad, Elaine, he'd been calling my dad for an hour trying to find you. We sure got in trouble for that day, but we had so much fun. Remember that?"

I look up at the life sign indicators again as the picture of my father fades from my mind, as though the transmission I'd been getting has been severed. I sigh and wonder how my father did it, spending all those hours next to me, all that time just watching someone who couldn't respond. Well, I realize, however he did it then, now it's my turn to do it. When I look back down at her face, I think Elaine looks pretty peaceful. Her face doesn't seem to be contorted with pain and she almost looks like she's got a small smile.

I jump when someone touches my shoulder. I turn around and see it's a nurse, and the name tag tells me it's the very nurse I spoke to over the vidphone.

"You must be Gordon Tracy," she says with a smile, noting how I'm holding Elaine's hand. I just nod. "Glad to see you made it. It's about time someone's here for her."

As Alicia goes about changing the IV bags, I frown. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, she hasn't had a single visitor in the two days she's been here. The doctor said that from what the police can figure, she lived alone and has no family."

Then her dad was dead. "What about friends?" I ask.

Alicia shrugged. "Don't know. If she has any, they haven't been here yet." She finishes with the IV bag, then moves to take Elaine's blood pressure and temperature. I watch, silently remembering that routine. Every two hours the nurse would come in with that machine to take my temperature and blood pressure.

After she's done, Alicia goes about the business of putting things away and generally tidying the room. "It's really too bad about her dog, too. I guess that was the closest thing she had to family."

"Her dog?"

Alicia turns to look at me. "You're her fiancée and you don't know about her dog?"

"Oh!" I respond, nodding. "Of course I know about her dog. But...what happened to it?"

"It was killed instantly in the hit-and-run. It was just a little dog, from what I hear. I'm not surprised it didn't survive. We didn't even expect Elaine to."

"I don't want to hear any more of that," I say, probably with a bit more venom in my voice than I intend. "She will live."

Alicia is definitely taken aback. "O-Of course she will, Mr. Tracy, I didn't mean to—"

"Never mind," I say in defeat, turning back to face Elaine. "It's not you, I'm just...you know." Alicia nods. "Has she regained consciousness yet?"

"No," Alicia replies. "Not yet." I just sit there, not really knowing what to do. "If you need anything, just use the call button." And with that, she leaves the room.

Jesus, why did I just bite Alicia's head off? And then just like that, I knew why. I was my father all over again, only years later and with a different patient.

"We don't expect him to live past the next twelve hours."

"The hell he won't!"

I have to smile. I guess I have a lot more of my dad's genes than I thought.

As Elaine's supposed fiancée, the hospital sets me up with a second bed that folds out from her room's couch so I can stay the nights with her. I had already called my father and reported Elaine's condition. He'd said to keep him posted. But I'm not really able to sleep much, so finally I just take the chair next to her bed again. Every two hours the nurse comes and goes. Every minute passes with Elaine still lying there unmoving, her eyes unblinking.

I do a lot of thinking over the next couple of days. I put the engagement ring in a drawer in the room; I'm relieved that I hadn't needed to use it. I keep vigil over Elaine but every minute of every hour is the same, and I find myself struggling to maintain patience. I talk to her doctors who come around every morning. I talk to all her nurses. And I talk to Elaine. Although her back injury isn't comparable to mine, it is severe enough that Elaine will suffer much the same as I did during rehabilitation. And that saddens me.

I wouldn't wish what I went through on my worst enemy, let alone an old school friend. But I remember Elaine as being strong-willed. If anyone can pull through this, it's her, of that I'm certain. I just don't envy the endless hours of pain and agony she'll have to endure once she wakes up. I wish that I could take it all away and make her whole again without all of that. But then again, that wouldn't be fair to her either, because she wouldn't have the experience.

If it did nothing else, what I went through taught me a lot. About myself, about my family, about the world and about my place in it. What right do I have to gyp Elaine out of that? Kyrano once said to me that each person has to learn from their own experiences. I guess all I can do is be here for her, if she wants me.

With no change three days later, I decide I need to get out into the cold Midwestern winter and get some fresh air. It's Christmas Eve and the hospital is decorated for the holiday. I find no joy in it, though, my spirit weighed down by Elaine's unchanging condition. I talk to Dad again through my wrist comm. Everything's okay back at Base, there's only been one rescue and my absence didn't hurt the outcome. Good to know, but I think he can tell I almost don't care.

Well, that's not right, I mean, of course I care, but your perspective on things changes depending on where you are and what you're doing. Right now I'm begging the powers that be to wake Elaine up, and I'm spending hours upon hours at her bedside talking to her. If I were back home on the island doing routine things like maintenance on the 'birds or paperwork or something like that, I'd have gone on the rescue and cared a lot about it. Here I am a member of International Rescue and there's one person who used to be one of my best friends that I may not be able to save. It's pretty humbling.

I just don't understand why she hasn't regained consciousness yet. It only took me three days to wake up and Elaine's already on Day 4. What if she doesn'twake up? Doctors said there wasn't enough trauma to her head to put her into a coma, but what if that's what happened? What if I sit here for a month and nothing changes? Then I feel something I haven't felt in a very long time: a snowflake. It lands on my nose and I look up to find it's snowing. It looks to be a white Christmas here in Kansas City and I feel my spirits start to rise again.

She will wake up, I tell myself as I look up into the cloud-covered sky. She will.

I stand there for God knows how long, enjoying the falling snow before I head back into the hospital. It's Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve and nobody's come to see Elaine the entire time she's been here. Christmas Eve and I know what's going on back on Tracy Island. I sigh, but my gut tells me it's right for me to be here in Kansas right now. I spot the gift shop off to the right and decide to just go in and take a look. Maybe I can find something to make Elaine's room a little more Christmas-y.

There are the typical flowers that are always in gift shops. But they're just regular. There are a few Christmas decorations around, but nothing that really catches my eye. And then I see it. It's sitting there on the counter, not far from the register. A miniature Christmas tree in a pot. It's completely decorated and lit and I immediately know that's the thing I have to buy. In short order, I find myself carrying it across the hospital lobby and into the elevator.

My spirits have completely risen by this time. This little Christmas tree is exactly the cheering up that room needs. And for the rest of Christmas Eve, I'm going to tell Elaine stories about Christmas. Christmases from when we knew each other and Christmases with my family. I have to keep talking to her, the way Dad kept talking to me. Somehow, his voice got through to me, wherever it was I was floating while I was unconscious. And somehow, I have to get my voice through to Elaine.

Two nurses, Alicia and Faustino, and two orderlies I don't know are working at changing Elaine's bed sheets and moving her to her side to prevent body sores from forming. I enter quietly and stay out of the way, moving to the opposite side of her bed and placing the small live tree on an end table that sits next to the small couch there along the wall. I easily find an electrical outlet and plug the tree in. Faustino and Alicia smile when they see the multicolored lights and I smile right back at them.

There is a tradition in the Tracy family, or maybe I should say it's more of a belief. Christmas isn't just about caroling or gifts or babes in mangers or wise men. Christmas isn't just about a big star in the sky or sending cards to everyone or giving bonuses to all our employees. My family sees Christmas as a time of renewal. I don't really know how that tradition got started. Maybe Grandpa and Grandma started it, maybe their parents before them. Or maybe it was just something my dad and mom did. Come to think of it, it sounds an awful lot like something my mother would've believed from what Scott's told me about her.

A time of renewal. Christmas is almost magical when you're sitting there in the dark, the only light coming from the twinkling lights on the tree. The gifts lying beneath it all brightly colored and beautifully wrapped. The star way up high. The beauty of freshly fallen snow. These are the things my father has taught us to appreciate about Christmas. Well, I was going to continue that tradition here with Elaine. Maybe Christmas really is magical. My family's always been able to make it seem that way. And if it is, maybe Elaine will wake up tonight or tomorrow. And if she does, she'll have a tree at least. And freshly fallen snow outside.