Brannock fell off the curb on the way to the hospital but otherwise made it relatively intact. He dashed up the hallway towards Thistle's room, sweeping past several night nurses who threw expletives his way. He yelled back several variations of "sorry" and "excuse me" as he darted around all sorts of obstacles, human and not.
Dr. Yan and another, older, doctor were talking outside the room as Brannock skidded to a stop. Yan began, "Hi Danny. Thistle shows some telltale signs of waking up. We've asked Dr. Daniels"-he indicated the older physician-"to help us out. He is one of the staff neurologists". Brannock raised an eye brow. "A neurologist? Is everything okay?, he said, shaking hands with the new doctor. Daniels returned the handshake. "Pleased to meet you. It is not necessarily standard procedure, but considering the severity of her injuries as well as the length of her induced coma, we thought we'd be safe. i don't expect any complications in terms of her waking up, but we'd like to monitor her for ill effects for a few days before even thinking about rehab".
That all made sense, he thought. He had a general understanding of first aid and emergency medicine, but the brain was a mystery to him as it was to most people. Heck, the doctors would readily admit there was much they didn't know.
He peeked into the doorway and looked back at the physicians. "Can I go in?" Yan nodded, and Brannock entered the room. The lights were on but the curtains were drawn. Thistle appeared restless but was not awake yet. The fidgeting and movement were more signs of life than she had shown in the days before. Dr. Yan stepped in behind Danny, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We'll be making our rounds, and the nurses will watch over the room. Let them know if she wakes, and they'll call us". Giving his shoulder a squeeze, Yan stepped out and Brannock could hear the two men's footfalls recede up the hallway since it was fairly quiet at night in the ward.
Thistle was moaning now, but it did appear that she was startinng to wake up. She didn't look bad, considering what she'd been through, but he was nervous. He sat down, rubbing his eyes. He was so freaking tired and mentally worn out. He rested his head on his left hand, and began to doze.
"Danny?" It was Thistle.
He jumped up, heart pounding, instantly forgetting his fatigue. "I am here. . .oh my God. . .how are you feeling?". Thistle groaned, "Sore as shit. Danny, that thing. . ."-she started to sob. Damn, she probably has post traumatic stress disorder from that encounter, Brannock thought. He saw that all the time with his peers. "It's okay, sweetie. I am on its trail, and I doubt it will come back after you. And if it does, I will be ready". Fuck. He obviously had no way of knowing-would the 117 in fact return someday to finish the job? Would he follow Brannock home one more time, then later find Thistle alone-again? He shivered at the possibility. Or was it a probability? That was an even worse prospect.
Several doctors and nurses came rushing in, one nurse ushering him out into the hallway while the others did a quick check up of the patient. After what seemed like hours he was allowed back into the room. Even with an IV still in her arm and some other random tubes here and there, there was no denying that Thistle looked better. There was also no denying the multiple splints and casts she sported.
Tears filled his eyes. "God, Thistle. I've been worried sick. When I came home that night. . .I thought. . .I mean. . .". Her small hand reached up, unsteadily at first, and came to rest on his cheek. "Danny, it's okay. You should see the other guy", she managed, weakly.
Of course he laughed like crazy, and of course he also began to cry harder, tears falling freely onto her blankets and down on her hand, which he had taken in his.
"Sweetie, they are saying you have a long, long recovery ahead of you. You know I will be there every freaking step of the way, right?". She nodded, and she added "Yeah, it is gonna be major suckage, isn't it?". His turn to nod.
