Steve opened the door to Shane's room and stopped short when he saw it was empty. Spinning around, he found a passing nurse and asked if she knew where Shane was. With a roll of her eyes, she motioned over her shoulder.

"See if you can talk some sense into him," the nurse muttered.

Steve followed her gaze and spotted Shane, who was leaning heavily against the nurse's station. He was wearing pajama bottoms and a robe, and grasping a stand that held some IV bags. As Steve walked closer, he saw that Shane was extremely pale and sweating profusely. Shane also was gasping for air.

"You really think this is the best way to get better?" Steve asked when he reached Shane.

Shane tried to catch his breath, which caused him to cough. He grimaced, in obvious pain, then shook his head. "I'm okay . . . Just need to keep pushing."

"You keep pushing and you're going to push yourself right back into that bed - and for a lot longer than if you listen to the docs," Steve said. He held out an arm. "Here. . . . Let me help you back."

"No." Shane gave Steve a defiant look. "I'll do it myself."

Steve had to chuckle, remembering how stubborn he had been at Donovan Manor when Shane had offered to help him from the stables to the house. The shoe's on the other foot now. Knowing it was futile to push, Steve just waited as Shane took a couple of steps, then caught him as his legs buckled.

"No arguments," Steve said. He helped Shane regain his footing and then slipped Shane's free arm around his shoulders. Putting his own arm around Shane's waist, so as not to jar his ribs, Steve helped Shane take a couple of steps toward the hospital room. When Shane made no further protest, Steve guided him the rest of the way and helped him take off his robe.

Even with the help, Shane was barely able to crawl into the bed. When he finally made it, he fell back heavily onto the pillow and gasped for breath. Steve watched as Shane closed his eyes tight and gritted his teeth, obviously trying to fight off the pain.

Worried, Steve asked, "You need me to get Marcus?"

Shane managed to shake his head. "No," he grunted. "I'm okay."

"If this is okay, dude, I'd hate to see a bad day," Steve joked. Then he remembered why Shane was in that hospital bed. Great, Johnson. Talk about being a jerk. Especially when this is your fault. Steve quickly apologized. "Sorry . . . bad joke."

"S'okay," Shane said. His voice was a little stronger and he seemed to be getting control of his breathing. "Only hurts when I walk, laugh, talk . . . and, basically anything else." He turned his head to Steve. "How are you doing?"

Steve raised an eyebrow. "You're laid up in the hospital and you're asking about me?"

"Well, I know how I'm doing," Shane said. "So, yes, I'm asking about you. Kim said you were okay. Though I don't know how Cal's shot missed you."

Steve stared at Shane in disbelief. "The shot missed me because you pushed me out of the way and put yourself into the line of fire. Don't you remember that?"

"I guess. . . ." Shane's voice trailed off. "Seems bloody stupid of me, doesn't it?"

Steve could not tell if Shane was joking or serious, but either way, he was right. It was stupid of him to nearly get himself killed, especially when it was all Steve's fault. "I'm . . . I'm sorry," he said haltingly. "If I hadn't screwed up, none of this would've happened. . . ." When Shane did not respond, Steve wondered if Shane even remembered what happened. "You probably don't remember that well. . . . I was supposed to wait for a signal from you, but I rushed in early and got caught in Cal's trap. That's why you had to save my ass - again." Steve looked down. "I know I really blew it, dude. I wish I could make it up to you. It's my-"

"Oh, for God's sake." Shane groaned. "Would you just put a sock in it?"

"What?"

Shane rolled his eyes. "You and Kayla . . . the pair of you."

Steve was unable to keep the edge out of his voice. "What about Kayla?"

"She was here the other day and going on about how it was her fault I got shot," Shane said, sounding exasperated. "Because she asked me to help you. And now I've got to hear you prattle on about how you're responsible."

"Come on, Donovan," Steve insisted. "If I hadn't gotten caught in Winter's trap, you wouldn't be here."

Shane grimaced a little as he forced himself to sit up a bit in the bed. "You know, Steve, I'm not exactly an amateur at these type of things. If I got shot, it's because I miscalculated. Probably my bloody timing."

"But what about the signal?"

"What about it?" Shane asked. "I assume if you didn't wait, you had a reason." He seemed to search his memory. "I did tell you to wait, didn't I?"

Steve nodded ruefully. "About five times. . . . But then I saw Winters heading to the back door and I knew you were probably there, trying to get Kayla and Kim out. I figured I'd distract him."

Shane pursed his lips. "So you thought we were in danger and you went in?"

"Yeah."

Wincing again, Shane leaned forward. "And what do you think I'd have done if our situations were reversed? You think I'd have done anything bloody different? So would you stop blaming yourself? Just like I told Kayla. I didn't go into that hangar because she wanted me to; I went in there because I made the decision that it was the best thing to do." Shane looked at Steve. "Just like I know that you would have come in after me if the positions were reversed."

Steve had no idea how to respond. He had expected Shane to be pissed off and to blame Steve for what had happened. But Steve also knew Shane was right. Steve would have gone in after Shane if the positions were reversed. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and shrugged. "Maybe you're right . . . but I'm still sorry this happened."

"Now that, I can agree with," Shane said. "But what matters is that Kim and Kayla are safe and Winters can't hurt anyone ever again."

Steve nodded. Changing the subject, he asked. "So how are you really doing?"

Shane sat back and took a short breath. "Okay, I suppose. I'll be glad when I can get out of this bloody hospital and get back to normal - or whatever normal is going to be from now on." A small, humorless smile crossed his face. "You'll think this is foolish, but do you know what I keep thinking?"

Steve shook his head. "No. What?"

"I keep thinking that there's no way now that I'll ever be able to go back to being a ISA field operative." Shane shook his head. "Stupid, I know. Like I had any semblance of a future with the ISA as it was."

Steve looked away. He still felt responsible for Shane's arrest, and knew the ISA had been a major part of Shane's life for years. Having that torn away couldn't be easy, even if Steve thought Shane was better off without the ISA messing with his life.

"Do you remember the day we rescued you from Alamain's compound?" Shane's question interrupted Steve's thoughts. "When was it? Not even three months ago. . . ."

"Of course." Steve could hardly forget that day, though he wondered where Shane was going with his questions.

Shane glanced up at the ceiling. "I don't know if I ever told you this . . . but to avoid detection, the Blackhawks dropped us five miles from the compound. It was over 100 degrees and we had on 25 pounds of body armor . . . but, damned if I didn't keep up with them. Five miles of running through a desert with a bunch of Green Berets." He closed his eyes momentarily, then sighed. "Just a couple months ago; now I can barely make it to the bathroom 10 feet away."

Steve understood how Shane felt. He remembered how hard it had been when he was recovering at Donovan Manor. Steve had hated feeling weak and dependent on others. Trying to sound encouraging, he said, "You're going to get stronger. Come on, dude. You know you'll get better."

Shane responded with a short nod. "I know. And it's funny, really. I know it sounds like I'm obsessing over the ISA, but that's not really even it. It's more habit, really, to measure myself like that. And there's so much that's more important than the ISA." Then he gave Steve a knowing look. "Do you remember when you said that to me - 'some things are more important than the ISA'?"

Steve had to search his memory, but could not place it. Hell, Steve had thought that plenty of times. He just did not remember when he said it to Shane.

"With Jericho." Shane answered the question for Steve. "When we were in that cave, debating whether to trade Jericho for Marcus. You said, 'some things are more important than the ISA.'" Shane fell silent for a minute. "That's something I remembered the night Tarrington showed me that picture of you in Alamain's camp and I had to decide whether to take the mission. 'Some things are more important than the ISA.' I think these last few months have really taught me to believe that."

Steve was confused. This was about the last thing he had ever expected to hear from Shane. "Are you okay, dude? This doesn't sound like you. Maybe you've got your pain meds too high."

Shane chuckled, then grimaced in pain. "Don't . . . don't make me laugh." He took a moment to recover, before he looked back at Steve. "I'm serious. If not for the past few months, I'd have probably spent the rest of my life jumping whenever the ISA called and what's really important - my family - would have always come second." Shane shook his head. "Bloody hell, if not for the past few months, I'm not even sure what kind of family I would've ever had. It certainly wouldn't have had Kim in it . . . and I'd have probably never found out the truth about Jeannie."

"So. . . . What? Getting shot and almost killed is a good thing now?" Steve shook his head in disbelief. "You really do need to cut back on those meds."

"Fine. Go ahead and keep making jokes." Shane said that with a touch of amusement. "I know what I'm saying. Anyway, it took me a long time to figure things out. But I did and I've got a lot to make up for, especially with Jeannie."

Steve raised his hands. "You don't have anything to make up to her. She's just a baby. She's going to know her papa."

"At some point, probably," Shane said slowly. "I still have the charges against me."

Steve wondered if Shane knew about the hatchet job the ISA had done on him by planting the story that he had been working with Winters. Forget that, he told himself. You've got more important things to discuss.

"Actually. . . ." Steve took a slow breath. "That's actually why I'm here."

There was no way Steve could miss the way Shane's eyes narrowed, but there also was no way Steve could back off from telling Shane what he planned.

"Part of the reason I'm here is that I wanted to tell you I'm heading to Georgia to talk to Deakins," Steve said. "I'm going to find him and I'm going to make sure he comes to Salem to clear your name."