Andrew leaned up against the nurse’s station watching. They moved quickly and efficiently adjusting dials and trying to get Frank to respond. The desk nurse came by with a small cup of water and handed it to Andrew. The older woman smiled, the blinged out chain on her glasses swaying back and forth.
“You might as well go back to the waiting room. He’s not going to be able to talk for a while.” She used that smooth, comforting voice they all used when people were dying, regardless if it was the ER here or in the MASH tent on the battlefield.
Andrew shook his head and headed out to where he wanted to grab hold of Ian and cry, but couldn’t and wouldn’t. 4