Author's Note: Thanks, Pichon, YazminXD, and Singingsilent for reviewing chapters (a slew of yours came in last night, Pichon). It really helps to see readers' perspectives.

Maybe these two dozen, multicolored roses would give the wrong message. But Trudy and Pete were so excited about it. Her stomach hurt. She adjusted the sack on her shoulder without dropping the vase of flowers. Her arms burned from carrying so much weight through the hospital after lunch the next afternoon. Reaching his door that was half closed, she tried to juggle the vase to knock but gave up. "Jason?"

"Come in."

She stepped in, trying to see around the roses. The weight started to lift, and Jason appeared on the other side.

"I've got it. What are these?" He smiled and took them over to the table.

"Oh, thank god," she sighed and then dropped the heavy sack on the floor and rolled her shoulder.

He turned, wearing different PJs and his blue robe. His brilliant smile was worth the aching muscles. "What on earth is all this?" He walked over and bent down to brush a kiss over her lips.

She blushed, and he sat on the edge of the bed. She looked away, her heart hurting. "Trudy, Pete, and I thought you needed something to cheer your room. And I brought cards, some books from your library that Trudy says you like, and chess."

He looked surprised and smiled. "Thank you. You play chess?"

"No, but Trudy says you're really good," she forced a smile.

He burst out laughing but didn't hold his face in pain this time. "I see I'm supposed to teach you."

Getting up, she tossed aside her parka and walked over, pulling up the sleeves of her blue sweater. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much." His eye fell to her pants. "Are those new jeans?" He held out his hand.

"No, they're mine from home." She reluctantly took his hand, and he turned her in a circle.

"Very nice, Ms. Hoplin," he said, his eye not tearing away.

She smiled a little, a part of her enjoying that he enjoyed her somewhat tight jeans. Then she sat beside him on the bed. "So, Dr. Port, what would you like to do today?"

His eye shifted up to her lips. "I have no idea, Ms. Hoplin. But I was naughty last night and went to bed late." His voice was husky and low, for her ears alone.

A surprised laugh burst out. His attempt at talking dirty was so adorable and so unexpected.

"What?"

"Nothing." She tried to force a serious face.

Now he tried to choke back a laugh.

They both burst out laughing.

"Sorry," he chuckled and wrapped an arm around her. "That sounded sexier in my head."

She pulled away, got up, and stood eye level with him, her laughter fading. "Did you have trouble sleeping last night?"

He gave a one-shouldered shrug and slipped his hands into hers. "I was a little worried if you'd have nightmares last night about anything."

She frowned. "You worry about other people a bit too much." Then she looked away and said, "I think I was too tired to dream." Her stomach still hurt from being up half the night replaying their talk from yesterday. He was right that things were moving too fast. This was going to be a hard conversation.

He looked a bit worried. "Emma, whats wrong?"

She looked at him. That little wrinkle in his brow formed. "I was thinking about something else too. And I don't want you to think this has anything to do with the scars." She sat in the chair at the table near the foot of his bed.

Instead of keeping a distance like he would have a couple days ago, he walked over and pulled out the chair next to hers to sit. She must've stared because he asked, "Is this alright if I sit here?"

No. She needed the distance to keep from crying. "Yeah." Then she shifted. "This whole situation is kind of complicated. I mean the employee thing and all. Maybe things should just be professional until the work is done."

"Oh." A pang of disappointment flitted across his face. He looked down at the table for a moment. "I'm sorry. You're right, I abused my position-"

"Just stop," she begged and closed her eyes as she rushed it all out. "Stop taking the blame for something you didn't do. I think I got swept up by your kindness and then you rescuing me from the accident and Gaston." Her face burned, and she couldn't look at him. Her eyes focused on the table. "I've been pushing you into something, and I'm sorry." Now would be a good time for a nurse to swoop in. Or an act of God.

He was silent, so she dared a peek. His face portrayed no emotion. "I don't want you to be in an uncomfortable work position."

"I think I put you in one." She bit her lip.

His gaze shifted away for a moment. "No, but I want you to say what you want and not worry about what I think."

She looked away. He was the type who would try to spare a woman's feelings, just like how he'd broken off the engagement to spare his fiance the guilt of doing it. He'd said it loud and clear yesterday that things were going too fast, and just now he hadn't denied that she'd pushed him into this. Now was the chance for him to slam the brakes, to gradually slip out. But he would only take it if he thought she wanted it. She'd dragged him this far, hoping he'd see things weren't as scary as he feared, hoping maybe he'd feel the security with her that she felt with him. But it wasn't there for him, and he would let himself get in deeper and deeper in hopes of the woman breaking it off instead of risking breaking her heart. He'd sacrificed for her so many times; it was far past time to be as selfless for him. "I think things need to be professional," she whispered, her voice threatening to crack.

A nurse walked in. "Time for a dressing change. Then the doctor will be by in a couple hours for the spinal tap."

She got up and pretended not to see him reach for her hand to stop her. He needed this space. No matter how much her heart cracked a little more with every beat, she'd give this to him. Maybe they could still be friends. It was a lie she needed to tell herself, just like she'd had to go through the motions of bringing flowers and games this morning. She needed to hold onto him just a little bit longer, even if it was as fake as their hospital marriage.

The halls were quiet yet, so she wandered and tried to build a solid wall around her heart so it wouldn't break every time he'd walk into a room. She couldn't be angry because he had a valid point. And she couldn't be hurt because he'd admitted yesterday that he didn't love her. That had been a painful pill to swallow, but she'd done it. And it not's like they were really dating or anything. One kiss didn't constitute a promise. She'd been so head-over-heels happy yesterday, and he'd probably been flattered, so reality hadn't set in. Leaning her back against a wall, she covered her face. Oh god, she'd been so stupid, practically throwing herself at him. Dropping her hands, she stared up at the ceiling. Things would be so awkward now. He'd probably leave her alone in the study. There was probably someone in town she could rent a room from. If Pete drove, there'd be no running into Jason. If she started early and stayed a little late, she could probably get done a few weeks early. And cry over her broken heart. The noise of quick, long strides down the hall made her turn her head to the left.

He approached, somehow not looking any less powerful in a robe, hospital slippers, and large bandage covering half his face and neck than he'd looked in a suit and black mask.

Someone brought a med cart out from a room on his right just as he crossed, completely blindsiding his blind side. He grabbed his ribs and caught himself, and the candystripper apologized profusely.

"No, it's alright. I'm fine," he said, rubbing his ribs. His eye returned to her, fiercely determined.

Delicious shivers ran up her spine as he resumed heading straight for her, looking like a man whom Hell itself couldn't stop.

He stopped inches away and leaned his hands against the wall on each side of her shoulders. Looking down, his eye pierced her.

Her heart thundered wildly. Heat pooled in her belly. Sweet heaven, he seemed even larger and more powerful this close. Simply being this close, she could taste him. She swallowed hard.

"This doesn't have to do with my face?" His voice rumbled low and deep in his chest.

Her knees weakened at he sound of his deep voice. "No," she whispered, having to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.

"Do I frighten you?"

"No." Oh god, his breath brought back memories of that erotic kiss yesterday.

"Then why are you pushing me away?" he growled.

She couldn't look away or lie anymore. Tears stung behind her eyes. "Because this isn't what you want," she whispered.

He shoved away from the wall and cursed, walking in a circle with a frustrated look in his eye. "Like hell you're not what I want," he growled and looked directly at her. In two quick strides, he captured her mouth with his, cupping a hand behind her head as he pushed her against the wall. His tongue plunged into her mouth, hungry and demanding. Even though his body pressed her against the wall, his arm slipped around her and jerked her closer to him.

She gasped, both shocked and aroused. He kissed with so much power and passion there was no noticing he had any physical disability. Returning his kiss with just as much desire, she wrapped her arms around his chest and held fistfuls of his robe at his back. His arousal pressed against her hip, unable to be hidden under his soft flannel pants and terrycloth robe. His emotions and passion were so intense she couldn't catch her breath. Heat rushed between her thighs and her breasts tightened. Oh god, how could he awaken desire like this without touching?

He turned her without breaking the kiss, backed her up into an empty patient room, and kicked the door shut. Then he captured her hands and pinned them above her head, leaning the length of his hard body against her. She gasped and instinctively bucked against his pelvis pressing between her legs. He moaned deep in his chest and ran his tongue over her bottom lip before his kisses traveled down her neck. His lips and tongue suckled the frantic pulse at her throat.

Her breasts heaved, tantalizing even more as they came into contact with his muscled chest with each breath. The hardening tips of her breasts against her bra heightened arousal. Her eyes rolled back in ecstasy, and her mouth fell open as her body tensed and raised her onto her toes. His fingers interlaced with hers above her head as her back slowly arched, pressing her hips against his, harder and harder as she climbed past the point of no return.

His chest heaved. "Oh, yes," he panted, and his hips instinctively jerked. "Emma," he breathed and his hands tightened in hers as he pulled back from the edge.

Beautiful fireworks exploded behind her closed eyes, and he captured her whimpers in his mouth. His own pants mingled with hers. Those gentle hands slid down to wrap around her as she came back to earth.

He trembled slightly and looked at her through a half-hooded eye. "Don't tell me I don't want this." His fingers stroked her cheek. "I need a woman who isn't afraid to push my limits. I thought it'd take months to work up the courage to show you this side of my face, but within weeks I'm kissing you in daylight. I gave up thinking any woman would want to be in the same room as me, yet you want to touch me. You make me want to try. I'm meant to be alone forever; show me the impossible, Emma," he whispered. Then he kissed her, slow and soft this time.

"No! That's cheating!" she laughed on the bed where they played Slap Jack on the bed tray a bit later.

"You've gotta be faster." He shook his head with a smile and scooped up his cards.

She got up on her haunches, still laughing. "You're almost a foot taller and can reach the cards better."

"Oh, sure. Good excuse. Ready?" He held a card, ready to flip.

She met his eye and smiled. "I'm going to whoop you."

"Oh, are you smack talkin' me?" His eyebrow cocked, with a twinkle in his eye.

Bursting out laughing again, she wiped tears from her eyes. Who knew Mr. Formality was such a hoot?

He flipped a jack. Her hand darted down, and his stopped mid-air. "Oh, come on! You can't let me win now," she laughed and swiped the card.

"I didn't! I'm just not going to slap you," he frowned.

"Well, you don't gotta slam all your weight down and crush me. It's called controlling your strength." She half rolled her eyes. He took chivalry a hint too far.

"Oh, controlling my strength, Miss Sassy Pants?" He grinned and pushed aside the table. Then he reached for her.

Electricity shot zipped through her. He was going to pull her down for a kiss. Maybe on top of that perfectly chisled body. Heat rushed between her legs. She smiled, ready to see if his kisses were always better than the last one.

A nurse and doctor came in. Jason's smile dropped dead in an instant.

Her smile faded seeing him so solemn. It must be awful being so familiar with pain, and it tugged her heartstrings to see his eye cloud over every time staff entered the room, which was frequent being in ICU.

"Let's get the spinal tap over with, Mr. Port," the nurse said.

She got up as the nurse and doctor got things ready. "I'll be right outside," she promised and kissed his cheek.

He caught her hand. Stress faded his eye to gray. "Would you stay?" he whispered.

She frowned. He looked more upset than usual. "Of course. Is everything alright?" she asked quietly.

Rubbing his forehead, he looked not too far from tears. "I can't do this anymore, Emma."

The pain, stress, fear, prying eyes...she couldn't imagine being in his shoes, plus the fact of having the medical knowledge to know exactly what's coming and what all could go wrong. Pulling his hand down, she held it in hers and looked into his eye. "You can. Jason, this is practically a walk in the park compared to things you've gone through. And the surgery is over, the fever is gone, you can probably go home in a few days...the hardest part is done." She stroked his cheek. "In five minutes, this will be done too."

He let out a shakey breath. "I know I seem like such a coward," he said quietly without looking at her.

She caught his chin and turned his head to meet her eyes. "No. I promise you that I wouldn't have had the guts to go through twenty four surgeries. Don't ever think I don't admire your strength."

A sad smile lifted his lips. His shoulders slowly squared, and the confidence eased back into his eye. He looked ready to carry his next burden. It broke her heart there was one, and many more lined up and waiting for the rest of his life.

"Alright, shirt off," the doctor said.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed facing the window and stood to shed his robe. Then he started unbuttoning the nightshirt.

She diverted her eyes to keep from seeing his shoulder.

"Just do it before I think about it too much," he said quietly.

Looking at him, she raised an eyebrow in question if he was serious.

He jerked his shirt off and sat on the edge of the bed, as if a little angry and a little afraid. The nurse reconnected the IV. He leaned his elbows on his knees and steepled his hands under his chin. He watched her intently as the nurse started scrubbing his back.

She stepped over to his other side and cocked her head. From under the bandage on his neck to half-way down his pectoral muscle and then over to his shoulder was the burn. His skin looked like a red, slightly bumpy, shiny spiderweb. She'd expected bubbled, pitted, very disfigured skin. "This is what you're worried about?" she asked quietly so the staff wouldn't overhear and wonder why his wife hadn't seen him shirtless.

He just watched, turning his head to see her in his blind spot.

She frowned severely and looked from his eye to his shoulder to his eye. "I don't understand what's so terrible. Is it worse in direct sunlight or something?"

The man blinked. And then he frowned.

"Alright, you'll feel a pinch," the doctor said.

She pulled over the chair and sat in it backwards so they could easily see each other. "We can talk about it after," she whispered and folded her arms over the back of the seat. "So, I'm quite curious where this date will take place," she smiled and took his hand when his brow furrowed in discomfort for a moment.

"Um..." He blinked, seemingly trying to shift gears. "I was wondering about a movie or the opera..."

"Tell me if you have any tingling or pain," the doctor cut in.

He didn't seem to be in pain. She bit her lip and mulled over his choices. Both were dark places. Knowing him, the opera was probably a private box seat. He'd probably be most comfortable there. "I've never been to an opera. Is it really in Italian?"

His attention seemed to focus on her. "It is. Do you speak it?"

"Ugh, no. I took Spanish in high school, but I wasn't one of those people for whom it came easily."

"That's alright. The songs and acting portray the emotion so well that very few who speak Italian are at the opera."

"Do you speak it?"

"Decent enough."

She smiled. "That's a modest man's answer. What other languages?"

"Spanish, French, German, and a little Dutch." He just said it, not seeming proud or embarrassed.

Her eyebrows rose. "Well, damn. And I was proud of reaching eight-year-old Spanish grammar."

He almost laughed but stopped himself.

"Hold still," the doctor commanded.

"Sorry." Her hand flew over her mouth. Nothing like paralyzing him for a joke. She leaned over to see if they were almost done. The blood rushed to her feet.

"Head down," Jason ordered. She turned sideways in the chair and dropped her head between her knees, panting to get air. "Deep breaths. Slow down."

"Do you feel alright?" Her voice sounded distant and black spots colored her vision.

"You're the one who's going to hit the floor."

She blinked hard, and her vision returned. The nurse was bent down and feeling her pulse in her wrist.

"Alright, lie down, Mr. Port," the doctor said

"Are you alright, Emma?" Jason sounded worried.

She nodded and slowly lifted her head. "I'm okay." He laid on his back in bed when the nurse and doctor left.

"Can you come lie down? You're still pale. I can't get up for a bit." He held out his hand. "Climb over me. It's better you faint on me than the floor."

She took his hand and sat on the edge of the bed for a moment. Then she climbed over his legs and laid down on his left side.

"Not one for blood?" He wrapped his arm around her and wiped her damp brow.

"It was a huge needle, and they took so much fluid. Did it hurt?"

"The local anesthetic burned a little, but that's it." He rubbed her arm. "It's alright."

She released a shaky breath. "Jason?"

"Hm?"

"I wish I would've been there when you got hurt," she whispered and stroked his bare chest, the sprinkling of chest hair tickling her fingertips. "I probably would have passed out every five minutes, but you must've been so scared. Were you alone?"

His chest rose and fell with a deep sigh. "My dad passed years before, and my mom not long before the accident. I had recently moved to California, so I didn't know many people."

"And then your fiance abandoned you," she whispered with tears in her eyes.

"It's in the past, Emma." He sounded so at peace with it.

"Do your scars usually hurt anymore?"

"No. The nerves are damaged, so there's not much feeling. Why are you so worried about this?"

Leaning up on her elbow to look down at him, she sniffled, "You seem so strong like you can handle anything. It's so easy to forget that you hurt and get scared too."

"Shhh, it's alright." He brushed away her tears. "You've never been in the hospital besides for your concussion, have you?"

She shook her head. "I was so scared I cried, and they didn't even do anything to me and I didn't hurt."

"I don't like being here, and I have highs and lows when I can't take it anymore, but some of the fear fades being desensitized to it. In the past four years, I've spent eighteen months in the hospital. I was terrified for the first couple surgeries, but they become less scary. I'm sorry, did I scare you that I got upset for the tap?" He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear."

"Do you feel like that the whole time you're here?" she countered.

He sighed and looked so remorseful. "No. It tends to be every few days that it just all gets overwhelming. Emergency surgery didn't bother me, but the tap did, in this case. If they wanted to do two more taps tonight, it wouldn't bother me because I already hit my stress peak for awhile. This is an extreme hospitalization, Emma. You're never going to have to be in the hospital for anything like this. Don't let this scare you."

With a shake of her head, she pressed her lips together to hold back the tears. "No, stop thinking about me. I'm trying to ask how scared you really are."

Pulling her back down, he kissed her head. "I think you're scaring yourself. Having you here helps so much, Emma." He held her tight.

At dinner, they brought him soup.

He looked at the tray the male nurse set before him in bed and then glanced at her in embarrassment. "I need solids," he said quietly to the nurse, as if humiliated. It hurt to hear him speak like that.

"The doctor ordered liquids because you're nauseous from the spinal tap headache," the nurse said.

He didn't say anything, but just stared down at the bowl. His poor stomach growled.

He was embarrassed. She turned to the nurse from her seat on the bed near his hip. The soup was too thick for a straw, if that'd even help him. "There are physical reasons why he needs solids." One look at his bandaged face seemed pretty self-explanatory.

"I'll have to call the doctor to get a different order put in." The nurse looked reluctant.

"Alright," she said. "We'll wait."

When the nurse left, he pushed the tray away. "I can't take you out for dinners." He sounded so disgusted.

She frowned. "We don't need to." Then she smiled and leaned a hand on his leg. "We can cook together in that wonderfully big kitchen of yours. Your dining table is long. If we sit at opposite ends with candlelight, I won't see you eating."

That won a soft smile from him. His stomach growled again. "Sorry," he blushed.

She stood. "I'm going to get you food. What do you want?"

"Emma, they'll bring something."

She got up and grabbed her purse. "Yeah, in two hours. Tell me. Chicken? Ham...?"

He looked a bit embarrassed. "Anything that needs to be cut up. And several napkins."

Her heart ached. Why did everything have to remind him of being different? "That wasn't my question," she said softly.

He held her eyes. "That's the answer you need to know," he replied quietly.

She looked around the cafeteria. Apples would probably be hard to open his mouth enough to eat without cutting them up. A banana would probably work. She set that on the tray. The chicken sandwich looked too tall for him, but the grilled cheese might work. But some people didn't like grilled cheese. She wandered down the line. Steak. Men loved steak. But that might be too hearty for feeling nauseous. Ugh, this was complicated.

"Can't make up your mind?"

She looked to the right to see Tom. "Hi," she smiled. "What's good for an upset stomach besides soup?"

He frowned. "Are you stressed?"

"No, it's not for me."

He cracked a smile. "You're not supposed to sneak food to patients. It's charted what they eat and how much."

"They messed up supper, and he's hungry." She looked at the salad. No, sometimes she had trouble fitting large pieces of lettuce in her own mouth. "Oh! Grilled chicken strips, please," she told the server. Then she took the tray over to the drinks. Milk? Juice? Water? Maybe juice would sit with him okay.

"Are you going to eat?"

"I'll come back down in a bit," she said and dug out money.

He set down his apple and followed her to the checkout. "How's your friend doing? Looks like he had something pretty serious."

"He's doing much better, thanks." She wasn't about to divulge Jason's secrets. She smiled. It felt good to know some of his secrets and help protect them. She paid.

"Are you going to be here much longer?" He followed her to the elevator and stepped on, hitting the button for her.

Hm. He must be going the same way. "I hope not," she smiled. She felt something brush her lower back. Nope, that was her bottom now. Her heart raced. She jerked away just as the elevator doors opened, and he held it for her with a polite smile. Had she imagined it? She stepped out and he did too.

"I'm sure you're glad. And having to stay with someone in the hospital is draining."

They reached Jason's door. She peeked in to see him lying down. His head must be hurting. Then she turned to Tom, who stood really close. She backed up. No, she hadn't imagined him touching her. Her heart beat faster. "Thanks for walking me back." Go away. That creepy feeling crawled up in her gut.

"Sure. We could grab supper. My treat."

"Oh, I'm okay. Thanks." She turned to go in and almost plowed into Jason. His hair looked a bit rumpled, but it didn't detract from the fierce look in his eye.

"Is everything alright?" He was curt and didn't look away from Tom.

"Yeah, he's just going," she said.

He nodded at Jason in acknowledgement and then looked at her. "I can at least walk you down."

"No." She took a step back closer to Jason until her back touched his chest.

"Are you sure? You gotta eat."

She opened her mouth, but Jason cut in. "The lady gave her answer."

The tension shot up fifty notches as the men glared at each other.

"Goodnight, Tom," she said quickly and tried to push back against Jason to back him up. He didn't budge.

"I'm just asking if he wants an escort."

"And she answered. Three times." He looked angry. "I don't want to see you here again unless she invites you."

"Is this guy nice to you?" Tom pointed a finger at Jason. Either he had guts or was stupid to insult a man as large and angry looking as Jason. "Let's go until he cools off." He reached for her, but she pressed back against Jason. Hard.

Jason's hand wrapped around Tom's wrist like a vice before Tom touched her. "Get out," he snarled and took a step closer, putting himself between her and Tom.

Tom looked a bit nervous and jerked his hand away. "Asshole," he muttered and walked away.

Jason closed the door and turned. He took the tray from her shaking hands and set it down. Then he wrapped his arms around her.

"He brushed his hand over my backside in the elevator," she whispered. Tears threatened.

"You're not going through the hospital alone anymore. As soon as I'm better, I'm teaching you how to fight off someone even larger than me."

The sweet man sacrificed his dignity for supper. He had to remove the part of the bandage that covered his mouth. They shared his dinner in the dim moonlight, and she sat on his good side while they ate side by side. She kept up the conversation to help distract him, and pretended not to notice him having to constantly wipe his mouth and go through a pile of napkins. He didn't offer much conversation, seemingly focused on getting done as fast as possible.

"Thank you, Jason," she said quietly when he still worked on his first chicken strip and she was finishing her second.

"Of course, sweetheart," he said softly.