Opening his eyes, he glanced around the colorless hospital room, noted the IV trailing to the shunt in his arm, the dotted yellow line on the monitor beeping steadily as it showed his heart rate, and finally Jane, who was standing with her back to him at the window, as she had much of yesterday. This had hardly been the joyous homecoming they'd anticipated. "Hey," he said, his voice cracking. Jane turned but didn't approach the bed. "How'd you sleep?" He winced because the simple act of clearing his throat brought pain. It radiated from his wound down the left side of his body. "Better than you, apparently." She offered him a feeble smile. "They didn't give me any morphine." "I'll ask for some Valium, if you want." Her smile became more of a grimace. "I don't think it would help with what's really bothering me." He knew what was bothering her. It bothered him, too. They'd lost far too much, and the suffering had gone on for far too long. "We'll reclaim our lives. This is just a temporary setback." She nodded but hardly seemed convinced.
