"Brian, stop it," Colleen mumbled, feeling the little boy begin kicking her once again.
"Hmm," he responded as he rolled over, not yet fully awake.
"Brian Cooper," Colleen sighed, forcing her eyes open, to see the early morning sunshine stream through the bedroom window.
Momentarily disoriented, she quickly realized she was back in her old bedroom. Looking over at Brian, she felt her eyes stay open longer and longer as her body no longer fought the desire to return to sleep.
"Colleen?" Matthew saw his sister stir, already up and dressed, standing quietly in the corridor.
"I'm awake," she groaned, pushing away the quilt and pulling herself to the edge of the bed.
Padding over the familiar floorboards, Colleen arrived out into the hallway, taking a slightly envious look back at Brian. "Just like him, didn't ever stir," she rolled her eyes, turning back to Matthew, "Dr Mike awake?"
"Don't think so," Matthew shrugged.
"What time is it?" Colleen shook her head, following behind Matthew.
"After eight, but don't think they got to sleep until at least four. I'll stay here, keep an eye on Jake, you wanna go over Grace's organize some breakfast?" Matthew hinted keenly.
"You're as bad as Brian. Food, food, food," she smiled nonetheless, "Just gonna check on Dr Mike." She moved up to the last room.
The bed was turned back and empty. Colleen quickly turned around and walked back along the corridor towards Jake's room.
Matthew frowned, seeing Colleen stop outside the room where Jake was still sleeping, "You hear him overnight?" she asked, not having a single memory of the past few hours aside from the occasional kick from Brian.
"No, musta slept right through." Matthew arrived behind Colleen as she tentatively entered the room.
Cautiously making her way over to the bed, Colleen frowned, seeing the calm expression on his face, as he remained peacefully asleep.
Hovering by the bed, Colleen saw Michaela's long hair trailed over her shoulder as she slept in the rocking chair.
Drawing a breath, Colleen thought back over the previous night, still able to feel the heaviness of the shotgun in her hands and hear the echoing of the bullet she'd fired.
What if I'd killed him? I know it wasn't my fault, but I can't believe I could have ended another person's life. And what if I hadn't shot him? I coulda shot Ma.
Ma's right. Violence in any form is never the answer. I could've got Matthew or tried to find out who it was. I was just lucky that it turned out this well.
Colleen yawned, wiping her eyes wearily from the lack of sleep.
Best go get breakfast for everyone.
Colleen's gaze lingered over her mother for several moments, trying to reconcile the memories from months earlier.
No matter what, it could have been worse. It will be all right.
Colleen kept her voice low as she met Matthew back in the hallway. "Gonna go get breakfast," she whispered, receiving a quick nod.
Matthew watched his sister fix up her slightly creased blouse and skirt as she slowly descended the stairs.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Michaela squinted against the sunlight that had filled the room, gradually remembering the events of the night before. As she pushed the memory away, the more discouraging reminder of the events of the last five months hit.
Pulling herself up from the chair, she fastened the clasp at the back of her skirt and took several steps across the room.
Michaela heard Brian's footsteps in the corridor and the conversation that ensued.
"Matthew! Wait up, I wanna come!" Brian called eagerly, having only just woken up and eager to join his brother over at Loren's.
"Brian, Colleen's gettin' breakfast, you'll miss out." Matthew ruffled his brother's hair.
"No I won't; can keep watch from Mr. Bray's. Please can I come, Matthew? Be just like old times. You and me goin' to the store, then comin' home to breakfast. 'Member Ma used to make us take our boots off at the door, coz they were all muddy in the mornin' if it'd been rainin'," he chuckled.
"Yeah, and I also remember how often you used to forget!" Matthew teased, leaning over to tickle Brian.
"Yeah I, I was younger," he gasped through giggles.
Michaela smiled, enjoying the children's banter.
Able to hear the bustling from the street, people passing, horses pulling wagons, she couldn't deny that there was something comforting about being surrounded by a town full of people.
Pushing her hair back from her face, Michaela felt the fatigue cloud her mind, immediately remembering her patient and turning around.
"Dr Mike?" Matthew poked his head around the door, speaking as quietly as possible. "Brian and me goin' over to Loren's. Colleen's gettin' breakfast."
Michaela simply nodded in reply.
Matthew followed Brian, as the young boy clambered down the stairs.
The events of the night before replayed themselves over, as she replaited her hair. Michaela watched as Jake remained asleep; she struggled to integrate the trauma of the previous night with the reality she now saw before her.
"Jake?" she arrived by the side of the bed, gingerly touching his shoulder.
He stirred, opening his eyes quickly and letting out a groan of disorientation.
"Jake, you're in the Clinic," she spoke quietly, watching as he absorbed his surroundings.
"Clinic? Dr Mike, what," he trailed off, looking down as he felt the mild ache from his arm.
"You don't remember?" Michaela asked skeptically.
"Remember?" his voice was gruffer, "What the hell am I doin' here?" Jake felt himself become frustrated by his vulnerability.
"It's all right," she soothed, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Michaela sensed they were now in the same reality, but wanted to be sure. "Jake, can you tell me what day it is?"
He frowned, stuttering, "I was at work. Saturday?" he turned back to her, rattled by his confusion.
"It's Sunday morning, Jake. What can you tell me about yesterday evening?" Michaela prodded gently, the helpless expression on his face banishing any anger she may have felt.
Jake shook his head, genuinely trying to remember. "I weren't doin' too well, started drinkin'." He looked away, able to predict Michaela's response.
"And that's all you remember?" she clarified, keeping her voice neutral.
"That's enough, ain't it? I get into a fight or somethin' at Hank's?" Jake looked down to his arm.
Michaela shook her head slowly, at a loss for how to explain the previous night's events, preferring to change the subject, "Let me check your arm."
Carefully, she pushed the quilt aside, satisfied that there was no abnormal swelling or discharge from the wound.
Jake watched the concern on her face, as she tendered to his injury.
"You should be fine in a few days. How's the pain?" Michaela sat back on the edge of the bed, preferring to think as little as possible about the night before.
"A little sore, had worse," Jake shrugged, comforted by her presence beside him. Although uneasy about the gaps in his memory; he was used to it by now.
"Just try and get some more rest. I'll check on you again later," she stood from the bed, noticing Jake's preoccupied expression.
"Thanks Dr Mike," Jake replied quietly.
"Colleen should be bringing some breakfast up in a little while," she nodded, crossing the room to the doorway.
"Dr Mike?" he looked up hesitantly.
"Yes, Jake," she turned.
"Glad, glad you're back," he held her gaze uncomfortably.
Michaela remained by the doorway, accepting that Jake had no recollection whatsoever of his nocturnal sortie. Turning back out into the hallway, she heard his voice again.
"Dr Mike?" Jake flickered his eyes between the floorboards and her face.
"Yes, Jake?" she rested her right hand on the doorframe.
"Wanted you to know I'm real sorry about things turnin' out the way they did," he shrugged, keeping his gaze downcast.
Michaela frowned, considering the softness in his voice. "Loren said you've been having trouble sleeping. That you've been having nightmares?" she walked slowly back into the room, waiting by the bed until she gauged his reaction.
Jake followed her movements, unconsciously noticing her physical condition, yet quickly dropping his eyes back to the bed. He processed her question as she sat beside him. "Ah, yeah. Can't explain it, weren't even drinkin' at first. Only started coz the drinkin' made them seem less real," he ran his fingertips over the embroidered quilt on his chest.
"What were the nightmares about?" she enquired carefully, knowing all too well, but curious to see whether Jake would admit it.
Jake paused, not moving an inch. "You," he whispered. "It don't make no sense. For months now I been gettin' nightmares. Goin' over and over the day we found ya. That we couldn't find ya, or that we did, and we were too late," Jake lowered his eyes, appreciating that it was a sensitive topic. "And I don't know why. Only little kids gets nightmares," Jake shrugged in frustration.
Michaela sighed, reaching for his arm. "That's not true; everyone gets nightmares, Jake."
"You had 'em too?" he asked tentatively, seeing the genuine compassion on her face.
"Not the same as yours, but I've had others." Michaela was surprised at how easy it was to speak openly with Jake.
"Weren't you afraid a dyin'?" Jake asked somewhat shocked.
"No," she answered without hesitation. "There were moments I wanted to die." Michaela blinked and drew a sharp breath. "I was more afraid of what people would think, how they would treat me. Especially now. For me, the nightmares came later. Everyone deals with trauma in their own way, Jake. We just have to find out what will help you." She moved the conversation back onto a professional level.
"But what I don't understand is, you're fine. I mean, we rescued you. So why doesn't my brain remember that? Why does it keep goin' over and over this stuff?" Jake sat up awkwardly.
"Well, the only explanation I've found, is that the mind remembers what we're afraid of, and if we can't solve it whilst we're awake; it tries to solve the fear during sleep." Michaela spoke confidently.
"So how do I make 'em stop?" he answered in a dejected tone.
"You must stop drinking. Alcohol effects sleep, it's probably making the nightmares worse. It might have helped at the start, but it isn't any more. It's making you hallucinate; see and hear things that aren't real. You've been having blackouts again. Jake, you could have been killed last night," she heard her voice become more direct with each word.
"Dr Mike, what happened?" Jake's eyes widened, unnerved by the absence of memory.
Unsure of just how much to disclose, Michaela clasped her hands in her lap, as she reluctantly turned her gaze back to Jake. "You came out to the homestead last night. Very late. We didn't know it was you, Jake." she sighed, knowing she had to tell him the truth. "Colleen shot you," she stated simply, more interested at that moment in Jake's reaction.
He remained silent, repeating her words over in his head, trying to salvage some memory. A gunshot. He could hear a gunshot. Symbolically glancing down towards his arm, Jake swallowed. "I can't remember," he spoke in a timid voice.
"It's all right," Michaela reassured, seeing the helplessness on Jake's face.
"I musta had a nightmare. While you were away, Loren said I came over the Mercantile in the dead of night. Wantin' to go out and check on ya. Dr Mike what's wrong with me? I don't even remember!" Jake's voice became more distressed which each sentence.
"Jake, it's going to be all right," Michaela's voice strengthened, knowing that she had absolutely no way of controlling him should he become more agitated.
"Dr Mike, I'm sorry. I musta scared ya all somethin' shockin'. I'm sorry. Ya gotta help me," he pleaded, reaching instinctively for her wrist.
Michaela winced, managing to pull her sprained wrist from Jake's grasp, "I will, Jake," she drew a pained breath, protectively resting her left arm against her stomach, "But you have to promise me that you won't touch another drop of alcohol." She watched as her words registered in his mind.
"But what if I can't sleep," he trailed off, feeling the hopelessness return.
"I'll give you something to take if it becomes intolerable, but no alcohol Jake," Michaela voiced sternly. "It's only making it harder in the long run."
"All right," he muttered glibly, starting to feel guilt seep across his chest. "I'm really sorry, Dr Mike," he repeated slowly.
She sighed wearily, "I know, Jake. I promise you, we're going to get you through this."
Jake nodded, albeit less confidently, both looking towards the door at the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Loren watched from behind the counter as Brian eyed the assortment of candy. "Little early in the day to be thinkin' a candy, ain't it boy?" he gruffed, not managing to get back to sleep after the previous night's events.
"Guess so," Brian shrugged, having hoped it would have brightened him up.
"Anything else ya needed, Matthew?" Loren began adding up the items Matthew had placed on the counter.
"Two bags a grain, thanks Mr. Bray," Matthew muttered.
"Right." Loren fetched the bags, his back protesting as he lifted the first bag up to the counter. "Aw," he sighed, "terrible thing old age, son."
"Here, I'll," Matthew tried to reach for the second bag, Loren brushing him off immediately.
"Nah, nah, I ain't givin' in to it just yet," he heaved the second bag up, walking back around the counter to adjust the total.
"Dr Mike's over at the clinic with Jake. Maybe ya oughta let her take a look at your back?" Matthew suggested.
"Didn't say it was that bad. Always gets like this 'round this time of year," Loren repeated the calculation, his discomfort growing.
"What, early fall?" Matthew replied automatically, only then realizing his comment was a little disrespectful.
"Watch it son," Loren groused.
"Sorry," he shrugged.
"That's four dollars twenty," Loren huffed, dropping the pencil to the countertop.
"Just meant, ain't sure when Dr Mike's gonna be back in town. If your back's troublin' ya, probably best take care of it now," Matthew handed Loren the money.
Loren placed the money into the black tin, a worried expression on his face. "What, she ain't comin' back to work?"
Matthew shrugged, checking that Brian was out of earshot. "Sure doesn't look like it, not after Monday. I was surprised she even agreed to bring Jake into town."
Loren shook his head with a frown, "That's too bad, son. I can tell ya now, ain't anyone that bothered anymore. All the women just sayin' how sorry they feel for her, and the men know enough to keep their mouth's shut." Loren was so involved in the conversation he didn't see Dorothy arrive by his side.
"If I didn't know better, Loren Bray, it'd sound to me like you were gossipin'," she raised an eyebrow suspiciously.
"Aw, woman. Ain't gossipin', just chattin'," Loren defended.
"Oh, I'll keep that answer in mind the next time you go accusin' me, shall I? Morning Matthew. How'd things go overnight?" Dorothy's wry smile melted into concern.
"All right, Miss Dorothy. Everyone slept right through." He nodded.
"That's good to hear. Here, I'll help you with that, wanna come check on ya ma," Dorothy collected several items from the countertop, as Matthew called Brian over.
"Thanks, Mr. Bray," Matthew nodded, "Brian, we're leavin'!" he called.
"Take care, son." Loren muttered, rubbing his aching back.
"Such a shame about what happened last night." Dorothy glanced over towards Matthew as the three arrived onto the porch.
"Hmm, Jake's lucky he's already bedridden," Matthew grumbled.
Dorothy tilted her head, not having expected such anger in Matthew's response.
"Miss Dorothy, can I take that?" Brian reached for the tin of lard she held precariously in one arm.
"Thank-you, sweetheart," Dorothy smiled, as they walked over towards the Clinic.
"Hey, Colleen's got breakfast!" Brian announced, seeing the ajar Clinic door.
Matthew and Dorothy watched wearily at the boy's exuberance as he raced ahead.
"That child," she smiled as they all made their way inside.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Timothy remained by the entrance to the Church, having spoken with each member of the congregation in turn as they filed out of the church.
Taking several steps down to the path below, Timothy glanced around the mingling families, preparing for the weekly picnic.
"Oh, afternoon Loren," Timothy smiled, pausing when he saw the dismayed expression on the older man's face. "Everything all right?"
"Was wonderin' if I could have a chat to you in private," Loren gestured towards the church behind them.
"Of course," Timothy nodded, leading the way slowly.
Timothy closed the narrow wooden doors, following Loren to a pew near the back of the church.
"Is something bothering you, Loren?" Timothy folded his arms, settling himself into a corner of the hard, wooden bench.
"Got a few things on me mind. Wanted to talk 'em over with someone I trusted." The older man rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Well, I'll do my best, Loren." The Reverend cleared his throat, watching as Loren struggled to put his concern into words. "What is it, Loren?" he prompted gently.
"Just, tryin' to make sense outa everything. Ever since Dr Mike come back, been feelin' strange about it," Loren trailed off.
"Strange about what?" Timothy leaned forwards, intrigued.
"Aw, you know." Loren shrugged. "Seems like everything's changed."
"It's been a shock to everyone, Loren. I've had more than my fair share of concerned townspeople dropping by." Timothy admitted, hoping it would put Loren at ease.
"Then I ain't the only one feelin' uncomfortable about it?" he squirmed.
"No," Timothy sighed.
"Least that's somethin'. Was feelin' guilty. Dorothy and all the women can just brush it aside and move on. Seems like they ain't thinkin' it through. But I can't. Makes my stomach turn just rememberin'."
Timothy shook his head, "Remembering?"
Loren looked away, his voice lowering, "Day we found her. Never thought a somethin' like this happenin'."
The Reverend sighed. "None of us did, Loren. Not even Dr Mike."
"If we'd gone out sooner, kept searchin' that night, then maybe," Loren voiced hoarsely.
"I know," he agreed.
"It's a waste a time talkin' to Dorothy. She just wants to move on. But I can't. Can't stop thinkin' about this baby. Ever since Dorothy told me, keep thinkin' about it. Seein' it. Wonderin' what we coulda done different." Loren sighed.
"I don't honestly believe you could have done anything to change this." Timothy looked up, not expecting Loren to interrupt him so forcefully.
"Sure we coulda. Coulda kept searching that night. If we'd a just found her earlier, before, then none a this would be happenin'." Loren shook his head, "Maybe I'm bein' too judgmental, but what kind of life is the poor thing gonna have? And Dr Mike. She ain't ever gonna be able to forget. Ain't ever gonna be able to move on."
"It's out of our hands, Loren," The Reverend dismissed.
"Aw, just wish there were somethin' we could do. Ain't her fault. I'd blame us. I'd blame Sully before I'd blame her," Loren muttered.
"There's only one person to blame for all of this, Loren," Timothy reflected in a quiet tone.
Loren scoffed, "Don't even know which one of them it was. All I know is, we killed 'em all."
"Sorry Loren, I'm probably not providing you with much solace." Timothy sighed.
"Weren't expectin' any." Loren rose slowly to his feet.
"At least Michaela has done the right thing, seeing the pregnancy through." Timothy followed Loren towards the door of the church, unaware of the significant information he'd just imparted.
Loren frowned, "But what's gonna happen to the kid? It's just gonna end up in one of those orphanages. What a waste."
"We'll see." Timothy opened the door, both watching the dozens of children still playing in the meadow.
"That's what worries me. Everyone'll see," Loren tsked lightly.
Timothy reflected on his late-night conversation with Olive several weeks ago. "I wished there'd been some way to spare everyone such pain."
"Well, ain't there ways around it? Dr Mike didn't have to go through with this did she?" Loren stuffed his hands into his pockets, fighting his discomfort with the entire conversation.
"It's a sin, Loren. Not to mention dangerous and illegal." Timothy took a step back into the church, casting his gaze down towards the floor as he walked.
"And you're tellin' me this kid existing at all ain't a bigger sin? Ain't God meant to stop things like this happenin'?" Loren shrugged, thinking back over the day of the auction nearly four months ago.
"Who are we to question His plans?" Timothy arrived by the lectern, reaching slowly for the gold-leafed bible.
"I, ah, wouldn't say anything like that to Dr Mike if I were you," Loren warned, clearing his throat.
"We don't know what the Almighty foresees. Perhaps some good is meant to come of this," the Reverend sighed.
"Keep readin'," Loren tapped the edge of the book lightly, before wearily making his way to the back of the church.
Timothy slowly looked up from the book in his right hand, watching as the older man left the church without another word.
Glancing back down to the fine print, Timothy read the passage quietly to himself:
Romans 8:18 I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
"Mornin' Robert E." Sully leaned over the top of the fence, watching the Blacksmith finish shoeing a horse.
"Sully, good to see ya," Robert E. looked up, a smile broadening on his face as he patted the horse.
"Ya busy?" Sully moved around beside the workbench, pulling the tomahawk from his belt.
"Not really, couple a shoes to fit," Robert E. chuckled, "still can't get used to ya without that mane, Sully. Suits ya though." He reached for the tomahawk on the workbench.
"Hardly think about it anymore; just another stage in life, I guess. Was out with Cloud Dancing, guess I ain't been practicing too much, lately. Missed the stump, sheared the blade right off," Sully explained, as Robert E. inspected the damage.
"You ain't kiddin'." Robert E. chuckled, "Take me an hour or so," the blacksmith glanced over to the Clinic, "Been buzzin' 'round here this mornin' after all the excitement over night," he continued, as he began dismantling the tomahawk.
"Yeah?" Sully shrugged.
"Grace and I didn't budge an inch. Heard about it over breakfast though. Good thing Jake's gonna be all right," Robert E. sighed.
"What happened?" Sully wasn't sure he wanted to know, having heard the rumors about Jake's drinking.
"You ain't heard?" Robert E. failed to conceal his surprise.
"No, but nothin' would surprise me when you put Jake Slicker together with too many drinks," Sully leaned back against the fence, wanting to change the subject.
"Ah, Sully, this might," Robert E. placed the tomahawk back on the bench, clearing his throat. "Bearin' in mind I only got this from Grace, after Dorothy told her this mornin'. Jake went out to Dr Mike's, real early this mornin'. Broke into the homestead. Apparently, Colleen shot him," Robert E. saw the panic flash across Sully's face, before he pushed himself from the fence, and broke into a run, Wolf trailing behind him.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
"He gonna be all right, Ma?" Colleen nibbled disinterestedly on a slice of toast.
"Jake will be absolutely fine. It wasn't your fault," Michaela tried once again to reassure the young girl, Colleen having been consumed by guilt all morning.
"What ya botherin' about him for, anyway? Ain't worth it," Matthew looked up, having been pacing slowly around the small recovery room, after declining breakfast.
"Matthew," Michaela chided, seeing the confused look on Brian's face.
"Dr Mike, how can you defend him?" Matthew exclaimed, his anger threatening to boil over.
"It wasn't his fault, Matthew," she insisted, taking a sip of tea.
"Since when do you let someone use alcohol as an excuse?" he frowned, lowering his voice as he sat on a chair at the end of the bed.
"It's not an excuse. Jake's not well at the moment. Besides, no one was hurt," Michaela knew she was fighting an uphill battle by the cold expression on her son's face.
"They coulda been," Matthew trailed off, looking to his younger siblings protectively.
"Jake got shot. He got hurt." Brian reminded everyone.
"Dr Mike, what's wrong with him?" Colleen looked up, her voice soft.
She sighed, glancing unappetizingly down at the bowl of oatmeal. "I may as well tell you all the truth – but it needs to stay between us, for Jake's sake. Brian?" she looked over to the little boy with a raised eyebrow.
"It's private, I know Ma," he nodded confidently.
"Jake's been very distressed lately," Michaela began, proceeding to inform the children of her discussion with Jake that morning.
~.~
X.O.X
~.~
Dorothy sat quietly by Jake's bedside, having watched him sleep peacefully for over twenty minutes.
"Hmm," he stirred, opening in eyes, momentarily disoriented.
"Jake, it's all right," she spoke, leaning forwards in the chair.
"D-Dorothy?" he frowned, slowly recognizing her. He sighed, remembering where he was, and why.
"Oh, Jake, what on earth has gotten into you?" she sighed unable to hide her disappointment.
He shook his head, picking up on the harshness in her voice. "Didn't mean it; didn't know what I was doin'," he defended quietly.
"Honestly, what kind of an excuse is that? You're a grown man. How could you be so selfish? Ain't you ever think about anyone 'sides yourself?" She rose to her feet, having wanted nothing more than an explanation from the moment she'd offered to sit with him.
"Told ya, I don't remember. Dr Mike understands," he answered in a hollow voice.
"Sometimes I think Michaela is too understanding for her own good. Why of all the thoughtless things I've ever seen you do; breakin' into someone's home in the dead of night. Musta frightened them all somethin' fierce," she thought back over her conversation with Michaela from much earlier that morning.
"Didn't mean to," he repeated helplessly, "what do you want me to say?"
"Oh, there ain't nothin' you can say, Jake. I just can't believe, after everything Michaela's been through, you'd go and do something as selfish as this. Never mind the fact that waking up to a stranger in your home is going to terrify any woman; she coulda been seriously hurt. Coulda lost the baby, all thanks to you," Dorothy scolded, keeping her voice just low enough so as not to draw attention from the next room.
"What are ya talking about?" Jake swallowed, not sure whether there was more he couldn't remember, or if Dorothy was just using it to make him feel more guilty.
"You don't even remember, do you?" she scoffed in astonishment. "What'd you do, Jake?" she narrowed her eyes, "Michaela was so desperate to get away from you, she ended up on the floor, sprained her wrist real bad," Dorothy felt the protectiveness rise in her chest.
"Oh God," Jake muttered, desperately searching the depths of his memory, "Dorothy, I, I don't know. She seemed fine this morning," Jake reasoned, Dorothy interceding in a fierce, skeptical tone.
"Well of course she did, she's your Doctor, Jake. And one thing Michaela is, is professional." Dorothy drew a calming breath, pushing away the memories of when her son had been in this same room less than a year earlier.
Jake felt his head move slowly from side to side, having no recollection of the night before, aside from the sound of the gunshot ringing in his ears.
"You think long and hard." Dorothy crossed her arms, moving swiftly towards the door.
Arriving out into the corridor, Dorothy startled at the heavy footsteps on the stairs. Seeing the figure arrive on the landing, she saw the direct look in Sully's eyes.
"Dorothy, what's happened?" Sully struggled to catch his breath, Wolf determinedly at his side, having insisted on following Sully inside.
"Sully, everything's fine. They're just upstairs having breakfast," she gestured to the last recovery room at the opposite end of the corridor.
"But what happened?" he repeated, his breathing forced.
Dorothy was about to answer, realizing she didn't know all that much. "Speak to Michaela. She's the only one who knows for sure."
Dorothy shook her head helplessly, watching Wolf trail dutifully behind him.