((Takes place following the events of My Bloody Valentine.)) __________________

15th February, 2013

The hospital room was quiet this morning. It had been a feverish night of operations, blood transfusions, explanations to the Watch. It had only been the forceful intervention of Jon that had made Piper go home to rest, to face the added strangeness of her daughter after an evening that had turned so horribly wrong. To think, in the moments before that portal had opened, her greatest fear had been that Des might stand her up!

And the revelation of Lyneth. Piper wasn't sure how she could reconcile the beautiful Fae woman who had brought Des home with the sweet child she was so familiar with. All Lynnie had been able to say was that she knew a little girl like her would never have been able to help; that she had needed to be bigger, and somehow had become so. Yet it had only been for the duration of the emergency. By the time Kaylee had arrived at the hospital, distraught at having lost the little girl in the first place, Lyneth had resumed her familiar form, refusing to go home until Piper had someone else to sit with her during the interminable wait for news.

Jon had been that someone, arriving after the curtain fell on A Doll's House to wait with Piper as they both worried over Des' condition. He might not think so, but Des seemed to have made an impression on his younger brother, enough of an impression that the anxiety at the thought of losing him was palpable. Piper was sure she had left bruises on Jon's hand as they sat together outside the ER, too frightened to let go. It was only when Des had been stabilized and settled in a private room that she would even consider the possibility of going home, and even then, Jon had to resort to threats he didn't mean to make it happen.

She hadn't slept much. Her mind kept replaying the horrifying moment when Des had stumbled into view, beaten and bloodied; when he had passed out in her arms, terrified that he was already dead. When she woke for perhaps the fourth time, she'd found Lyneth in the bed with her - familiar, tiny Lyneth - cuddled in close and crying with her. It was that, more than anything, that had convinced Piper to allow the tiny girl a day from school to hold vigil with her.

They sat together now by his bed, each acutely aware of the machines that monitored Des' continued vital signs calling their constant reassurance that he was still there, his heart was still beating. He was still alive. Lyneth was curled close on her mother's lap, barely awake, her exertions of the night before still taking their toll on her energy levels. But she didn't seem to begrudge the hand that Piper kept curled into Des', or the soft words that poured out from time to time. They always came back to the same thing.

I love you. We need you. Come back to us.

"Again?" Correy rubbed his forehead, his hand sliding slowly down his face to massage eyeballs and then squeeze the point of his chin. He was agitated, the angry flare of his blue eyes and the tone of his quiet voice were a dead giveaway. "Why?" And though the anger was slowly sliding towards sadness and disbelief, the anger was still there. "Why always a Granger?" Crumpling the note he'd received from one cousin or another, Correy left the post area for his room in the student nurse's dorm.

He needed to change from the scrubs he'd been working in, into a set of clean scrubs. The intent being that going from one hospital to another wouldn't be so difficult if he wore the same uniform. It was late; Correy had worked the swing shift. There was no moon to speak of, with thick snow clouds looming over head. The weather was threatening to break, and it was just as ominous as the look upon his face. This was supposed to be a happy time in their family, with spring on the way and all of the tiny Grangers that it promised to bring. And still, tragedy strikes, once again. As Correy tugged out of his scrubs and took his shower, he relived the moments that had led up to a very similar situation not so very long ago. They had owned the world, he and Jon. They had been incredibly, even blissfully, happy. There was nothing they couldn't do, nothing they couldn't overcome. And in the blink of an eye and the sound of a gunshot, Correy's entire world flipped upside down.

And now, it was happening again. This time it was happening to a cousin that Correy barely even knew. And even though the afternoon they'd spent together didn't end up as great as Correy had hoped, it was something that he'd never forget. Desmond was family, blood was blood. Nothing was going to stop Correy from physically seeing his cousin and offering his support. Even if Desmond couldn't or wouldn't know he was there, Correy was intent on going.

Once he was dressed and had run a comb through his hair, Correy stepped out into the night. It wasn't a far drive to the hospital, and slid the car into a parking spot under the muted orange of an incandescent light meant to keep the parking lot well lit and free from flying insects. His car was left unlocked in his hurry to get inside. His plan was to go in and blend in with the rest of the staff to gain access to Desmond's room and chart. He knew that there were often times when doctors and nurses would attempt to apply a sugar coating to help the family of the victim to swallow the medicine. Correy wanted to know the complete truth of it.

Correy was in luck. This hospital also utilized the student nurses from his school. Blending in was easy, the coloring of his scrubs and name tag easily identifiable and he had no trouble into gaining access to the computer system. Easily he found Desmond's room and the chart. And as he studied the chart he realized that there was no way to sugar coat what had happened to his cousin. Knife wound to the abdomen, the surgeries, amount of blood loss and transfused, diagnosis and prognosis. It was all there, cut and dried, just as it had been laid out to the family. For that, Correy was grateful. Now all he had to do was find Desmond's room.

The hospital was like most, with a main area and different wings shooting from the center. Following the signs and using the elevator, Correy soon found himself standing in front of his cousin's room. It was silent and the corridor was only dimly lit to ensure the least amount of distraction and stimulation. Taking a breath, he pushed the door to the room open and stepped inside. He held the door with both hands to assure a very quiet closing, with just a barely audible click as it slid closed. Then he breathed out, once again.

He turned to see his cousin, drenched in the artificial light of monitors and what streamed in from the parking lot below. He'd been in hundreds of rooms like this, over the course of his nursing training. But nothing prepared him for the onslaught of memories that came flooding back. In his mind's eye, it was Jon lying prone on the bed, hooked up to monitors and IV's that beeped a soothing, hypnotic cadence. The fear, pure agony and helplessness of watching a loved one fight for their lives and knowing there was nothing he could do came back with such a force that Correy had to sit down before his knees buckled.

He sat heavily into the thinly cushioned chair, pulling his thighs to his chest, hugging them there. Hiding the sight by burying his eyes in his knees, Correy realized what a mistake it had been to come. He wept over the injustice done to his family, his heart, his life. And when his shoulders stopped shaking, he prayed that Desmond would not suffer as Jon had. He prayed that Desmond would pull through and know that he had a family, and that he was loved.

When Correy lifted his head, the first rays of sunlight were beginning to paint the sky pink. He stretched his long limbs, cramped from sitting in one position for too long. And then he rose from the chair and slowly walked over to his cousin's bedside. Although he could easily see what the monitors were displaying, he reached to feel Desmond's breath on his fingertips, and then pressed those fingertips onto the carotid pulse. Pulling his hand back, he gently tugged the blanket that covered his cousin's body straight, and then fluffed the pillow behind his head.

"Get better, quick," he whispered with a tender smile upon his face. Leaning over, he brushed a kiss to his cousin's forehead. When he rose to his full height, he turned and walked from the room. His shoulders were a bit squarer and his posture more straight than when he entered. He reversed his earlier trek and soon found himself in the dorm room once again. Instead of stripping down, he collapsed into bed and fell into a deep sleep. It had been a long day, after all.