HOME | DD

Description
Knockout
Chapter 3: Just Asleep

The resounding tap of a pen on paper was easily the loudest sound in the empty room, and quite frankly, it was really getting on Angie’s nerves.  She sighed, glaring at the blank spaces on her paper work that should have been filled in.  This was normally not a problem for her.  Though now, the bright white of the paper was stinging her eyes, her mind unable to rid itself of the worry that plagued it.

It was insistent, dragging her thoughts down to the earlier events of that day in intervals.  Without the will to fight it, she found her mind drifting back to that afternoon, the tap of her pen thankfully fading out as her memories replayed.

-----

As much as Angie wanted to just scribble down the numbers on the chart she managed to use enough restraint to at least make it legible.  She assumed Dr. Norman would appreciate being able to read his patient’s status.

His patient . . . this was not supposed to be his patient . . .

‘It’s okay.’ she sighed and clipped the file to the end of the patient’s bed.  ‘He should be fine now.  He should have regained consciousness.’

She took a deep breath in hopes of calming her anxiously beating heart.  She left that room and began down the hall towards room 094, vaguely mindful of the nervous ruffles her fingers were creasing into her uniform.  She would just peak in for a moment, see for herself that he was alright, and go on with her day without distraction.

She would . . .

Angie had been unaware of the breath she had been holding until she released it in a heavy sigh.  Derek had not moved an inch, not even bothered to twitch in protest as Greg examined his eyes with his sharp pen light.  She winced slightly at the ill feeling spreading through her stomach.  It had been over three hours since he had collapsed.

Why had he not woken up?

She looked up from Derek’s sleeping face upon feeling someone’s gaze fall upon her.  Her eyes widened for a brief moment as they met with Greg’s and she quickly recovered by clearing her throat, forcing herself into a professional front.  “Have there been any changes in Dr. Stiles’ condition?”

It was Greg’s turn to sigh and he did so, frowning with a mild head shake.  “None.  He’s completely unresponsive, but he doesn’t appear concuss.”  Placing the pen light in his coat, he ran a hand over his head and picked up the chart at the foot of the bed.  “Keep an eye on him for a second, okay Angie?”

“Yes, Dr. Kasal.” she said as she stepped aside to let him through.

She walked over to his bedside, her fingers still kneading anxiously into her uniform.  Again he remained motionless, breathing deeply as though he were just asleep.  The only part of him that actually stirred as his hair.  It swayed in the light breeze from the room’s air conditioning as she felt a smile tug at her lips.  Even at rest, Derek’s hair had a blatant disregard for order and stuck out in every which way.  She remembered asking him to do something about that and to give him credit, he had tried.  She has caught him combing his hair during the brief free moments they had during their shifts.  In the end, his hair proved untamable and Angie just shrugged, realizing he could not help it.  It was just a part of him.

But as the days had passed, she found herself disliking it less and less.

And as she blinked curiously at it, she felt her hand slowly reach out to stroke it.  ‘Just . . . just to get his bangs out of his eyes . . .’ she mused, scrunching her mouth as she felt his locks flow smoothly through her fingers.  She smiled timidly . . .

“Angie.”

Her fingers withdrew as though burned, coming to rest over her mouth as she gave a forced cough.  She put on a serious look in hopes that it would suppress the blush somewhat, though if Greg had noticed he did not show much interest.  “Angie, I have a new patient for you.”

“A new patient?” she asked.  The surgeon nodded and stepped towards her, handing her a file.  She took it, her glance at it brief as she looked up the moment she read the patient’s name.  “This is Dr. Stiles’ chart.”

“Exactly.” Greg said.  “Derek is a patient and I have assigned the both of us to his care.  You’ll still need to assist the other surgeons with their patients and follow up on those in post-op care, but for the time being I’d like you to see to Dr. Stiles.  Can you do that?”

“Of course, Dr. Kasal.”

“Good.  I have another patient to see to so I’ll need you to monitor his vitals and keep his chart up to date.  I have him scheduled for a CT scan in an hour if there are no changes in his condition.”

“I understand.”

“All right, I’ll be back in an hour.”

Greg left, leaving Angie to look at her new . . . patient.

-----

Angie tightened her glare on the form as a soft growl poured from her.

The pound of the pen on paper had grown louder, twitching in her restless fingers and grating further on her nerves.  She rubbed her forehead with her free hand as she let out a sigh.  “C’mon, just concentrate.  You just need to fill these files out.  Just . . . stop getting distracted and do it!”

With a stiff upper lip she stabbed the end of her pen onto the forms, finally staining them with the ink.  She forced all thought onto the numbers and conditions that needed to be updated, managing to fill out one page before her mind gave out, the memories from earlier once again crashing upon her.  She conceded with a sigh, not finding it in herself to fight it and honestly, she did not care to either.

-----

“The CT scan’s clean.”

Greg and Angie watched as the resident neurologist tacked the slides from Derek’s scan onto a back lit board.  “Everything’s normal.  It’s like he’s just sleeping . . .”

“He’s completely unresponsive.” Greg argued.  “We’ve tried everything to get a reaction out of him.  Nothing’s worked.”

“Okay.  He’s in a deep sleep.”

“Not good enough.  Something’s wrong with him.  Find out what.”

“Dr. Kasal.  I realize he’s your student . . .”

“He’s a patient!” Greg snapped.  “Do your job.”

That said, Greg turned on heel with Angie following closely behind.  “Angie, secure an ultrasound machine.  We’re going to do a scan of his chest.  See if there’s anything going on with his organs.”

“Yes doctor.”

-----

The restless beat of pen on paper returned as Angie stared down the second page of the patient’s form.  The ultrasound had revealed no abnormalities.  It really was as though Derek was only sleeping . . .

‘But he’s not responding to anything.  He’s not even stirring.’

A growl quietly rumbled in her throat, growing loud as she threw her pen across the room and finally putting an end to its obnoxious rapping.  Not as though it had been doing her much good anyway.  Small as her outburst was, it had attracted the attention of Nurse Mann, who had chosen that moment to enter the nurses station.  As a nursing supervisor she was patient and understanding, though she was not about to tolerate a member of her staff inexplicitly storming past her.  “Nurse Thompson, where are you going?”

“To check on a patient.”

“And your paperwork?”

She turned on heel rigidly, scooping up the files and heading towards the door.  “I’ll finish it in his room.” she said, not stopping for a response as she left.

Night had fallen and the halls fell to a hush – or rather as close to that as a hospital could get.  Her footsteps remained swift at first, but slowly tapered off as they approached the room of her patient; room 094.  She stepped in quietly, as though she would wake him up.  If only she could . . .

It had been eight hours since he passed out and Derek had still not moved an inch.  Angie let out a sigh even in knowing what to expect upon entering the room.  She made her way over to his night stand, plopping her paperwork down and pulling up a chair.  Despite the grim lack of movement from the surgeon, just being beside him, seeing for herself that he was still alive was . . . comforting.  Though she preferred it was his voice letting her know he was still alive rather than the electrocardiogram he had been hooked up to.  But, he was alive, and that was enough to let her get back to work.  Finally at enough ease, she reached for her pen . .

. . . her pen . . .

“Oh, right.” she sighed, recalling that she had thrown her trusty writing tool across the nurse’s station.  “Great.”  She pursed her lips and lightly drummed her fingers on the files.  She really did not want to leave him, but Nurse Mann would have at least a thing or two to say if she did not complete her paperwork.  “The help desk is just down the hall.  I’ll be back in no time.” she mumbled.  She rose quietly and looked at Derek.  “Don’t go anywhere.  I’ll be back in two minutes tops.” she smiled somberly at the unconscious man, sighing as she took her leave.

-----

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

The middle aged secretary stared Angie’s outburst down with not as much as a flinch.  To add further insult to injury she chewed her gum in disgustingly loud smacks and, had it not been for the scowl on her face, the nurse would have sworn she was enjoying watching her blood boil.  “Sorry Thompson, but we need to have pens available at all times.” she grumbled in between the exaggerated chews.

“I won’t lose it.  Look, I’m right down the hall.  I just need one for a few hours at most!”

“Sorry, we need to have spares.”

“You have fifteen!” Angie said, tossing a hand at the pen cup behind the counter.  “Are you really going to lose all of them in a few hours?”

The obnoxious chewing ceased for a brief moment, though the glare the secretary ran her through with did little to calm her temper.  “Where’d yours go?” she snorted.

Angie grunted.  “I didn’t lose it.  It ran out of ink . . . this in ridiculous!”

She leaned over the counter and plucked a pen from the supply cup.  Surprise stretched the older woman’s wrinkled face for a moment before it reverted back to a scowl.  “Hey!  Who do you think you are?!”

“Relax, I’m just borrowing it.” she said as she walked away.

“I can have you written up for stealing!”

“It’s still in the hospital!” she replied, holding the pen up between her fingers.  “You’ll have it back soon.  I promise!”  Angie did not bother to look back as an unintelligible stream of high pitched curses filled the hall.  If anything it kept her back rigid as she stormed towards the corner she had come around and she took a breath of relief once she turned it again, thankful to have the unpleasant woman out of her sight.  “Whatta witch . . .”

Nurturing more than a few unpleasant thoughts of the woman, she walked back to Derek’s room as she lightly twirled the pen in her fingers.  Her footsteps were swift at first, longing to make up for wasted time, but they slowed as quiet voices gently floated down the hall, more specifically, from Derek’s room.  Her forehead creased curiously.  ‘Does he have friends visiting him? Could . . . could he be awake?’

It was possible.  The mumbles were too low for her to put a face to them, but there was definitely at least two people talking.  She moved towards the wall as her steps slowed to a crawl, leaning forward slightly.  She was not really ease dropping.  Just checking out the situation.  It would be ruder of her to interrupt, after all.  Now pressed against the wall, she pretended to read over the chart just outside the room, straining her ears to put a name to the hushed murmur from within.

“I warned him.”

Angie shot up at the voice.  “Dr. Hoffman?” she whispered.

“Dr. Hoffman, he did what he had to to save a patient.”

“And look where it’s gotten him.”

“Dr. Hoffman?!”

The exchange between the director and whom she easily recognized as Greg was startling to say the least.  Though she had not a clue as to the context of their conversation, their grim tones were more than enough to stir and uneasy flutter within her.  The thick silence that followed did not help either as she could hear the men shuffling stiffly.  That tension made the few seconds it lasted feel like several minutes, its end coming in the form of a rough exhale.

“I commend him for putting the patient’s safety above all else, but he’s far exceeded his duties as a doctor.” Hoffman muttered.

“With all due respect, are you suggesting that doctors who do everything to save a patient are going above their duty?  Is there a line of effort that we’re not supposed to cross?” Greg did not bother to hold back the hint of anger in his voice, a favor which Hoffman returned three folds.

“Derek’s situation is different!” he snapped.  “There are other avenues he could have taken.  The Healing Touch is unnecessary.  All he’s done is open himself to pain.”

Angie stood up straight at the approaching sound of footsteps.   She pressed herself to the wall as the elderly man brushed through the door and veered off down the opposing hall.  If he had noticed her, he did not give her as much as a glance of recognition.  She watched his brisk walk away, her face growing sullen as she recalled his words.

“All he’s done is open himself to pain.”

She took a hard gulp and clutched the front of her uniform.  ‘What does he mean by that?’

“There you are, Angie.”

She looked up at the voice, not at all surprised to see Greg standing in the doorway.  Any ill feelings he held regarding the conversation he just had were well hidden.  His calm and cool composure was ever present and a light smirk was on his lips.  “I had a feeling you’d be coming back here soon.  That’s your paperwork in there, isn’t it?”

“Yes.  I . . . I couldn’t concentrate in the nurse’s station.  But I’ll finish it tonight.  I just had to duck out to get a pen . . .”

“So that’s what Wendy was yelling about.” Greg chuckled.  “I’ll have to talk to her supervisor again.  This isn’t the first time she’s gotten worked up over something so little.  She should know better.  Patients are trying to sleep.”

“Yeah . . .” Angie laughed quietly, watching as Greg walked passed her to speak with the witch’s supervisor no doubt.  Though a more vengeful part of her did not want to prolong getting Wendy in trouble, she was compelled to stop the surgeon for the sake of the thought gnawing on her mind.  “Dr. Kasal?”

“Yes?”

She crossed her arms, pursing her lips as she moved her gaze to the occupied hospital bed.  “Is . . . is he in pain?”

Greg sighed softly and placed his hands in his pockets as he turned to face her fully.  His eyes also lingered to where their patient rested as he rolled the words on his tongue, ending the silence only when he found the ones that tasted the least bitter.

“No Angie.  He’s just asleep.”

An uneasy silence hung between them, lasting only a second as Greg quickly excused himself.  Angie briefly watched his retreat as she entered the room and made way towards the bedside.  Part of her expected Derek would give no reaction to her approach, and another part berated her for holding that expectation.  ‘He’ll be okay!’ her mind repeated.  ‘He’s just . . .’

Her feet grew heavy as she reached his bedside.  The encouraging mantra was quickly becoming anything but, though the tranquility of night allowed her to appreciate the deep breaths he took.  At least with the stars filtering through the window it seemed natural – as though he really were just resting for the evening.  A soft laugh escaped her as the blue tinted moonlight cast a faint aura on his bangs, which were still frayed in disorder.  “This hair of yours . . . it has a personality of its own, doesn’t it?” she said.

Her hand reached out to touch it again and she made no effort to deter her fingers.  They rested gently on his forehead at first, stroking his warm skin before running through his locks.  Something about the soft texture of his hair abated her worry, ever so slightly, and drew a sigh from her lips.  For that moment, she allowed her eyes to stare unfocused at his moon washed pillow.  The fretful thoughts in her mind hushed, taking the beeps from the heart monitor with them.

And against her better knowledge, she allowed herself to pretend that he was just asleep.

Description
Knockout
Chapter 3: Just Asleep

The resounding tap of a pen on paper was easily the loudest sound in the empty room, and quite frankly, it was really getting on Angie’s nerves.  She sighed, glaring at the blank spaces on her paper work that should have been filled in.  This was normally not a problem for her.  Though now, the bright white of the paper was stinging her eyes, her mind unable to rid itself of the worry that plagued it.

It was insistent, dragging her thoughts down to the earlier events of that day in intervals.  Without the will to fight it, she found her mind drifting back to that afternoon, the tap of her pen thankfully fading out as her memories replayed.

-----

As much as Angie wanted to just scribble down the numbers on the chart she managed to use enough restraint to at least make it legible.  She assumed Dr. Norman would appreciate being able to read his patient’s status.

His patient . . . this was not supposed to be his patient . . .

‘It’s okay.’ she sighed and clipped the file to the end of the patient’s bed.  ‘He should be fine now.  He should have regained consciousness.’

She took a deep breath in hopes of calming her anxiously beating heart.  She left that room and began down the hall towards room 094, vaguely mindful of the nervous ruffles her fingers were creasing into her uniform.  She would just peak in for a moment, see for herself that he was alright, and go on with her day without distraction.

She would . . .

Angie had been unaware of the breath she had been holding until she released it in a heavy sigh.  Derek had not moved an inch, not even bothered to twitch in protest as Greg examined his eyes with his sharp pen light.  She winced slightly at the ill feeling spreading through her stomach.  It had been over three hours since he had collapsed.

Why had he not woken up?

She looked up from Derek’s sleeping face upon feeling someone’s gaze fall upon her.  Her eyes widened for a brief moment as they met with Greg’s and she quickly recovered by clearing her throat, forcing herself into a professional front.  “Have there been any changes in Dr. Stiles’ condition?”

It was Greg’s turn to sigh and he did so, frowning with a mild head shake.  “None.  He’s completely unresponsive, but he doesn’t appear concuss.”  Placing the pen light in his coat, he ran a hand over his head and picked up the chart at the foot of the bed.  “Keep an eye on him for a second, okay Angie?”

“Yes, Dr. Kasal.” she said as she stepped aside to let him through.

She walked over to his bedside, her fingers still kneading anxiously into her uniform.  Again he remained motionless, breathing deeply as though he were just asleep.  The only part of him that actually stirred as his hair.  It swayed in the light breeze from the room’s air conditioning as she felt a smile tug at her lips.  Even at rest, Derek’s hair had a blatant disregard for order and stuck out in every which way.  She remembered asking him to do something about that and to give him credit, he had tried.  She has caught him combing his hair during the brief free moments they had during their shifts.  In the end, his hair proved untamable and Angie just shrugged, realizing he could not help it.  It was just a part of him.

But as the days had passed, she found herself disliking it less and less.

And as she blinked curiously at it, she felt her hand slowly reach out to stroke it.  ‘Just . . . just to get his bangs out of his eyes . . .’ she mused, scrunching her mouth as she felt his locks flow smoothly through her fingers.  She smiled timidly . . .

“Angie.”

Her fingers withdrew as though burned, coming to rest over her mouth as she gave a forced cough.  She put on a serious look in hopes that it would suppress the blush somewhat, though if Greg had noticed he did not show much interest.  “Angie, I have a new patient for you.”

“A new patient?” she asked.  The surgeon nodded and stepped towards her, handing her a file.  She took it, her glance at it brief as she looked up the moment she read the patient’s name.  “This is Dr. Stiles’ chart.”

“Exactly.” Greg said.  “Derek is a patient and I have assigned the both of us to his care.  You’ll still need to assist the other surgeons with their patients and follow up on those in post-op care, but for the time being I’d like you to see to Dr. Stiles.  Can you do that?”

“Of course, Dr. Kasal.”

“Good.  I have another patient to see to so I’ll need you to monitor his vitals and keep his chart up to date.  I have him scheduled for a CT scan in an hour if there are no changes in his condition.”

“I understand.”

“All right, I’ll be back in an hour.”

Greg left, leaving Angie to look at her new . . . patient.

-----

Angie tightened her glare on the form as a soft growl poured from her.

The pound of the pen on paper had grown louder, twitching in her restless fingers and grating further on her nerves.  She rubbed her forehead with her free hand as she let out a sigh.  “C’mon, just concentrate.  You just need to fill these files out.  Just . . . stop getting distracted and do it!”

With a stiff upper lip she stabbed the end of her pen onto the forms, finally staining them with the ink.  She forced all thought onto the numbers and conditions that needed to be updated, managing to fill out one page before her mind gave out, the memories from earlier once again crashing upon her.  She conceded with a sigh, not finding it in herself to fight it and honestly, she did not care to either.

-----

“The CT scan’s clean.”

Greg and Angie watched as the resident neurologist tacked the slides from Derek’s scan onto a back lit board.  “Everything’s normal.  It’s like he’s just sleeping . . .”

“He’s completely unresponsive.” Greg argued.  “We’ve tried everything to get a reaction out of him.  Nothing’s worked.”

“Okay.  He’s in a deep sleep.”

“Not good enough.  Something’s wrong with him.  Find out what.”

“Dr. Kasal.  I realize he’s your student . . .”

“He’s a patient!” Greg snapped.  “Do your job.”

That said, Greg turned on heel with Angie following closely behind.  “Angie, secure an ultrasound machine.  We’re going to do a scan of his chest.  See if there’s anything going on with his organs.”

“Yes doctor.”

-----

The restless beat of pen on paper returned as Angie stared down the second page of the patient’s form.  The ultrasound had revealed no abnormalities.  It really was as though Derek was only sleeping . . .

‘But he’s not responding to anything.  He’s not even stirring.’

A growl quietly rumbled in her throat, growing loud as she threw her pen across the room and finally putting an end to its obnoxious rapping.  Not as though it had been doing her much good anyway.  Small as her outburst was, it had attracted the attention of Nurse Mann, who had chosen that moment to enter the nurses station.  As a nursing supervisor she was patient and understanding, though she was not about to tolerate a member of her staff inexplicitly storming past her.  “Nurse Thompson, where are you going?”

“To check on a patient.”

“And your paperwork?”

She turned on heel rigidly, scooping up the files and heading towards the door.  “I’ll finish it in his room.” she said, not stopping for a response as she left.

Night had fallen and the halls fell to a hush – or rather as close to that as a hospital could get.  Her footsteps remained swift at first, but slowly tapered off as they approached the room of her patient; room 094.  She stepped in quietly, as though she would wake him up.  If only she could . . .

It had been eight hours since he passed out and Derek had still not moved an inch.  Angie let out a sigh even in knowing what to expect upon entering the room.  She made her way over to his night stand, plopping her paperwork down and pulling up a chair.  Despite the grim lack of movement from the surgeon, just being beside him, seeing for herself that he was still alive was . . . comforting.  Though she preferred it was his voice letting her know he was still alive rather than the electrocardiogram he had been hooked up to.  But, he was alive, and that was enough to let her get back to work.  Finally at enough ease, she reached for her pen . .

. . . her pen . . .

“Oh, right.” she sighed, recalling that she had thrown her trusty writing tool across the nurse’s station.  “Great.”  She pursed her lips and lightly drummed her fingers on the files.  She really did not want to leave him, but Nurse Mann would have at least a thing or two to say if she did not complete her paperwork.  “The help desk is just down the hall.  I’ll be back in no time.” she mumbled.  She rose quietly and looked at Derek.  “Don’t go anywhere.  I’ll be back in two minutes tops.” she smiled somberly at the unconscious man, sighing as she took her leave.

-----

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

The middle aged secretary stared Angie’s outburst down with not as much as a flinch.  To add further insult to injury she chewed her gum in disgustingly loud smacks and, had it not been for the scowl on her face, the nurse would have sworn she was enjoying watching her blood boil.  “Sorry Thompson, but we need to have pens available at all times.” she grumbled in between the exaggerated chews.

“I won’t lose it.  Look, I’m right down the hall.  I just need one for a few hours at most!”

“Sorry, we need to have spares.”

“You have fifteen!” Angie said, tossing a hand at the pen cup behind the counter.  “Are you really going to lose all of them in a few hours?”

The obnoxious chewing ceased for a brief moment, though the glare the secretary ran her through with did little to calm her temper.  “Where’d yours go?” she snorted.

Angie grunted.  “I didn’t lose it.  It ran out of ink . . . this in ridiculous!”

She leaned over the counter and plucked a pen from the supply cup.  Surprise stretched the older woman’s wrinkled face for a moment before it reverted back to a scowl.  “Hey!  Who do you think you are?!”

“Relax, I’m just borrowing it.” she said as she walked away.

“I can have you written up for stealing!”

“It’s still in the hospital!” she replied, holding the pen up between her fingers.  “You’ll have it back soon.  I promise!”  Angie did not bother to look back as an unintelligible stream of high pitched curses filled the hall.  If anything it kept her back rigid as she stormed towards the corner she had come around and she took a breath of relief once she turned it again, thankful to have the unpleasant woman out of her sight.  “Whatta witch . . .”

Nurturing more than a few unpleasant thoughts of the woman, she walked back to Derek’s room as she lightly twirled the pen in her fingers.  Her footsteps were swift at first, longing to make up for wasted time, but they slowed as quiet voices gently floated down the hall, more specifically, from Derek’s room.  Her forehead creased curiously.  ‘Does he have friends visiting him? Could . . . could he be awake?’

It was possible.  The mumbles were too low for her to put a face to them, but there was definitely at least two people talking.  She moved towards the wall as her steps slowed to a crawl, leaning forward slightly.  She was not really ease dropping.  Just checking out the situation.  It would be ruder of her to interrupt, after all.  Now pressed against the wall, she pretended to read over the chart just outside the room, straining her ears to put a name to the hushed murmur from within.

“I warned him.”

Angie shot up at the voice.  “Dr. Hoffman?” she whispered.

“Dr. Hoffman, he did what he had to to save a patient.”

“And look where it’s gotten him.”

“Dr. Hoffman?!”

The exchange between the director and whom she easily recognized as Greg was startling to say the least.  Though she had not a clue as to the context of their conversation, their grim tones were more than enough to stir and uneasy flutter within her.  The thick silence that followed did not help either as she could hear the men shuffling stiffly.  That tension made the few seconds it lasted feel like several minutes, its end coming in the form of a rough exhale.

“I commend him for putting the patient’s safety above all else, but he’s far exceeded his duties as a doctor.” Hoffman muttered.

“With all due respect, are you suggesting that doctors who do everything to save a patient are going above their duty?  Is there a line of effort that we’re not supposed to cross?” Greg did not bother to hold back the hint of anger in his voice, a favor which Hoffman returned three folds.

“Derek’s situation is different!” he snapped.  “There are other avenues he could have taken.  The Healing Touch is unnecessary.  All he’s done is open himself to pain.”

Angie stood up straight at the approaching sound of footsteps.   She pressed herself to the wall as the elderly man brushed through the door and veered off down the opposing hall.  If he had noticed her, he did not give her as much as a glance of recognition.  She watched his brisk walk away, her face growing sullen as she recalled his words.

“All he’s done is open himself to pain.”

She took a hard gulp and clutched the front of her uniform.  ‘What does he mean by that?’

“There you are, Angie.”

She looked up at the voice, not at all surprised to see Greg standing in the doorway.  Any ill feelings he held regarding the conversation he just had were well hidden.  His calm and cool composure was ever present and a light smirk was on his lips.  “I had a feeling you’d be coming back here soon.  That’s your paperwork in there, isn’t it?”

“Yes.  I . . . I couldn’t concentrate in the nurse’s station.  But I’ll finish it tonight.  I just had to duck out to get a pen . . .”

“So that’s what Wendy was yelling about.” Greg chuckled.  “I’ll have to talk to her supervisor again.  This isn’t the first time she’s gotten worked up over something so little.  She should know better.  Patients are trying to sleep.”

“Yeah . . .” Angie laughed quietly, watching as Greg walked passed her to speak with the witch’s supervisor no doubt.  Though a more vengeful part of her did not want to prolong getting Wendy in trouble, she was compelled to stop the surgeon for the sake of the thought gnawing on her mind.  “Dr. Kasal?”

“Yes?”

She crossed her arms, pursing her lips as she moved her gaze to the occupied hospital bed.  “Is . . . is he in pain?”

Greg sighed softly and placed his hands in his pockets as he turned to face her fully.  His eyes also lingered to where their patient rested as he rolled the words on his tongue, ending the silence only when he found the ones that tasted the least bitter.

“No Angie.  He’s just asleep.”

An uneasy silence hung between them, lasting only a second as Greg quickly excused himself.  Angie briefly watched his retreat as she entered the room and made way towards the bedside.  Part of her expected Derek would give no reaction to her approach, and another part berated her for holding that expectation.  ‘He’ll be okay!’ her mind repeated.  ‘He’s just . . .’

Her feet grew heavy as she reached his bedside.  The encouraging mantra was quickly becoming anything but, though the tranquility of night allowed her to appreciate the deep breaths he took.  At least with the stars filtering through the window it seemed natural – as though he really were just resting for the evening.  A soft laugh escaped her as the blue tinted moonlight cast a faint aura on his bangs, which were still frayed in disorder.  “This hair of yours . . . it has a personality of its own, doesn’t it?” she said.

Her hand reached out to touch it again and she made no effort to deter her fingers.  They rested gently on his forehead at first, stroking his warm skin before running through his locks.  Something about the soft texture of his hair abated her worry, ever so slightly, and drew a sigh from her lips.  For that moment, she allowed her eyes to stare unfocused at his moon washed pillow.  The fretful thoughts in her mind hushed, taking the beeps from the heart monitor with them.

And against her better knowledge, she allowed herself to pretend that he was just asleep.