Chapter 35

"Nicky?"

"Hmm," he grumbled. His eyelids barely flickered. He could hear noise, beeping, people talking. He just wanted to go back to sleep. It didn't hurt there.

"Come on, Nicky."

Cool fingers touched his skin. He turned his head into them. He inhaled the scent of cool, sweet sin. Michelle? No. What?

"Chelle," he mumbled, trying to wake up.

Michelle's heart thumped in her chest, relief taking some of the energy out of her. "Come on baby, wake up. Please wake up." She leaned closer, pushing his hair back off his forehead.

He opened his eyes and tried to focus. He hurt all over, his throat was so sore. He had to wake up though. Something...

"Michelle?" She was gone, taken. He had to get to her. He tried to sit up, groaning and falling backwards in pain.

"No, baby. Don't try to get up. I'm right here."

She touched him with her left hand, her right was strapped across her chest, her arm immobilized. Scott Greashaber had jammed her shoulder, tore some ligaments and broken her arm with his last ditch effort to kill her. She had a concussion, some bumps and bruises, and a few cuts to boot. But she was alive.

She'd been poked and prodded and told to go to bed like a good girl since she had gotten to the hospital. Finally, she'd had enough. She'd grabbed the doctor and threatened to shoot him or at the very least, pull him over every time she saw him for the rest of his life if he didn't let her go to Nick right now.

He'd fought her until she had gotten out of bed, a tremendous feat for someone who'd had her skull busted, and started looking for her clothes. The doctor backed down with a lot of bad bedside manners and got her this wheelchair and let Stephanie wheel her up to the fourth floor where Nick was in intensive care. She wasn't leaving until she was sure he was going to be okay.

"You're not here." His eyes were mere slits but they studied her, noting every bump, every bruise, every small scrape. "You're not here," he repeated, his voice getting weaker.

"Yeah, I am." She smiled, even though it hurt like hell. "Do you think I'd dress in this extravagant hospital gown if I was a dream?" She ran her fingers across his lips, leaned down and kissed his hand. "I missed you."

"Love you, Chelle."

His voice was so weak and hoarse, he was so pale. She had almost lost him, lost them. She twined her fingers in his hand. "I love you, Nick. Don't go too far away, okay?"

He smiled. And slid back into sleep.

He woke the next morning looking for her. Instead he was greeted by a sour faced nurse. She poked and prodded, changed bandages, moved him around and made him miserable. And completely wore him out. Then she stuck a needle full of something into his IV and everything got fuzzy.

The next time he woke, he looked for her again.

"Hey, pal."

He groaned. The fed.

"How you feeling?"

"Like I got shot." He twitched trying to get comfortable in the almost too short bed. He couldn't move much, it hurt too damn bad.

"Yeah, I hear you. Been there once myself." He rubbed his hand across the scar on his stomach. "Not a pleasant way to spend a couple of weeks. I'd rather head down south to some tropical island myself." He walked over and sat down in the chair next to the bed. Nick's eyes were starting to droop already. But he was getting stronger. It was only a couple of days, he had time.

"Michelle?" He was getting tired again. But he needed to know.

"Sleeping peacefully about two floors down. Her parents have been watching over her since we called them this morning. They asked about you too and want to come and see you as soon as you're out of ICU. She was up here last night. Do you remember?"

"I think so," he mumbled. His eyes would blink and then he would realize he forgot to open them. "She okay? Her face was all bruised, her arm?"

"She'd gotten beaten up a bit, but she'll be out of here a long time before you are. She's one hell of a scrapper. She gave better than what she got." There was a lot of admiration in his voice. It took guts to stand up and do what she did, guts, determination and courage. He was about to tell Nick so when he saw the nurse giving him dour looks from the open doorway. "Your guard dog is barking, Nick. I gotta go before she puts me in here."

"Wait, what happened? Who... who was it." He tried to stop him but the nurse came in, a big needle in her hand.

"Next time, Nick. Just sleep. All's right with your world again, buddy." He patted Nick's arm before going out, giving the gruff nurse and her big damn needle plenty of space.

The next time he woke, it was dark. He could see out the open blinds of the window next to the bed. He moved stiffly, trying to see what hurt and what didn't. Damn, everything hurt. And he was thirsty.

He could feel the needles and the tubes, some in places he didn't even want to think about. He felt as weak as a baby and cranky because of it. He hated hospitals. He hated being kept in the dark. He hated being cooped up and alone. He...

"Nicky?"

His head swiveled on the pillow. He could smell her before he saw her. She smelt of sunshine and sin, something sultry and provocative. "Michelle?"

Then he saw her. Oh, God. He didn't know how scared he was until he saw those smoky green eyes. "You okay?" He tried to clear his throat.

Michelle moved closer, a little clumsy with a big cast on her right arm. She ached all over, every bruise and cut and bump. But her heart ached worse for the sight of him, laying in that small hospital bed, pale and bandaged. "I'm fine, baby. I'm more worried about you."

He held up the hand that wasn't taped up with tubes. She took it in her own, pressed a kiss on it. "I thought you were dead, Nick." A tear slipped down her cheek.

He wiped it away with his thumb. "Don't cry, you'll make me cry and then the nurses would be mad at you."

She chuckled, smiling at him through her tears. "They already are. I, um, haven't been the most cooperative patient. I kind of bullied my way in here."

"Bullied?"

"I threatened to shoot the doctor."

He chuckled, gasping in pain. "Don't make me laugh. Hurts."

She let go of his hand and got him the glass of water that had been sitting on the tray. She held it for him, the process complicated because she only had one hand. "Doctor said you can have a little water. Just sips, okay?"

It was cold, it was wet, and it was wonderful. He wanted to drink the whole thing and almost groaned when she took it away after only a few swallows.

"You guys gonna leave me in the dark about what happened?" He yawned and took her hand again, holding it against his stomach. "You could tell me, you know. Or you could at least give me a kiss." He grouched at her.

"I could do both if you promise to rest quietly while I talk. The nurse said I can stay in here as long as you don't get too riled up." She smiled at the thought of the scene she made when told she could only have a few minutes. "I think they are a little scared of me."

"Smart people. Now tell me." He smiled. "Wait, kiss me first."

He closed his eyes as she leaned closer. Then groaned as she kissed his cheek lightly. "That's not what I want."

"The nurses said you have to behave."

"I'm gonna think you don't love me," he groused.

"Okay," she huffed, acting like it was the biggest sacrifice in her life, leaned over and touched her mouth to his. She lingered for only a few seconds, ending the kiss before either of them would have liked.