Title: Guarding Spirits
Author: Natauni
Posted: 3-25-01
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer.
Rating: PG-13ish.
Notes: This takes place long, but not too long, after Epiphany.
Part 1 (of ?)
The note was unremarkable: just a plain, white business sized envelope with the word 'Guys' scrawled across its front half…
They would have missed it altogether if Wesley hadn't decided Cordelia's desk was the best place to lay down the morning's cache of fresh donuts.
As it was, he almost -did- miss it. If it hadn't been for happenstance he'd have most likely set down his burden and gone about his day without ever noticing the message that was lying there for them. Fortunately for all concerned, though, as he settled the cardboard box on the wooden surface, he also managed to jar the keyboard, sending the small square of paper fluttering off of its precarious perch and drifting down to the floor. Sighing as he saw it slide under the desk, the twenty-something Englishman pursed his lips in exasperation and adjusted his spectacles before he set his coffee down. 'Why is it' he wondered as he sank to his knees, 'that I always manage to find myself in this position at least twice every week.'
There were days Wesley swore he was in some kind of silent war with the furniture. He never seemed to be able to get within three feet of any of the desks without stubbing his toes, or more commonly, smacking his head.
The letter meantime, had managed to wedge itself behind the far, back left leg of the desk. Sighing yet again, Wesley realized with no small amount of disgust that he was going to have to all but lie down on his stomach in order to reach it now. For a moment, he seriously considered just leaving it where it lay, or perhaps simply standing back up and moving the desk back away from the wall. Then the memory of how heavy the thing had been in the first place when they'd re-arranged the office furniture several weeks ago fluttered into his thoughts, and with a third disgusted sigh he dropped down onto his right side, scooting himself forward a few inches farther, arm outstretched as he grappled for the troublesome object.
It was at that moment Angel finally wandered down the lobby stairs, and Gunn came in for the morning, slamming the main door of the hotel loudly as he did so.
Wesley, unprepared, leapt up in shock at the sound: banging his head with a muffled curse that drew the attention of both of his friends.
"Morning Wes." Gunn's expression was blasé as he hung up his jacket on one of the coat trees and came over to the desk to get first pick of the donuts. "So why're you diggin' around under the furniture this mornin'? Showin' your electrical genius with our computer technologies again?"
Angel, meantime, was caught up in a much more -pressing- issue. "Hey where's Cordelia? Nobody's made any coffee this morning."
There is nothing in the world so inhospitable as a cranky Englishman. And Wesley was excessively so at the moment. "Have neither of you ever heard of -announcing- you enterence?! And I do not know where our fair Cordelia is this morning. I had planned on stopping by her apartment earlier and offering to take her to breakfast, but no one seemed to be there when I arrived, so I concluded she must have come into work early this morning. Wesley "was still digging around under the desk as he shared this bit of information. At last he gave a pleased cry. "There…there little bugger I've -got- you." He pulled the offending envelope out, and backed out from beneath the desk. "I got here and no one was about, though…I suspect she probably had some errands or something to run. She'll no doubt be along any moment. Or at least I certainly hope so.
"You never answered my question English." Gunn stepped back several feet, donut in hand, allowing the ex- watcher to regain his feet. He took another bite of the pastry. "So whud are yu' doin' down there diggin 'uhround under Cordy's desk…?"
Wesley scowled at the grinning man as he brushed at his knees petulantly. "For bloody sakes, Man. Don't talk with your mouth full. I swear, has your mother succeeded in teaching you absolutely nothing?"
"Children, Children." Angel still hadn't managed to get over the fact that there was no coffee. He reached out and plucked the envelope from Wesley's hand, turning it over even as the Watcher prepared to protest the removal of something he'd just worked so hard for.
The sound of tear paper could be heard, and then a moment later Angel's head shot upward. Uhm…this looks like Cordy's handwriting, guys. We probably have our answer to her location right here."
'Dear Guys….
Sorry to leave you a hit and run message here, but my plane leaves in about another forty-five minutes and I still need to get to the airport on time. I would've called but there didn't seem to be a point in waking all of you up just to tell you to go back to sleep… Anyway, I have to leave town and go up to San Diego on some emergency family business. Mom's in the hospital and they need nearest available relative there until I can manage to get a hold of my dad. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone but I'll call once I know something more specific. In the meantime I'll be at South Memorial if you need to get ahold of me. Don't worry, I've already got reservations at a local hotel there and I've got my cell, so I'll call you if I have any visions. -Delia.'
That was all it said. The three men exchanged looks. Angel was the one who finally took charge. "Wes get on the phone and find out exactly where this South Memorial is. I'll find out if there's another flight out there today or if we'll get there sooner in the car."
Angel wasn't the only one who had something to say though. "I'm gonna break her neck."
Gunn's statement pretty much summed it up for all of them.
************
It was amazing to see really, how little some things actually changed.
Take the food in front of her for instance. If there was one thing she should have learned in all these years, after all her various experiences with different health care facilities, was that cafeteria food was something that never changed. You were supposed to stay away from the pizza…because it only -looked- like real Italian.
Than again, she acknowledged, maybe it wasn't the quality of the food that was in question. She wasn't all that hungry anyway.
"Half the salad at least Cordelia," she told herself sternly. 'And all of the soda.' Ah yes, caffeine: not the best thing in the world for her, but after less than four hours of sleep in the past nineteen she was ready to admit any consciousness on her part would have to be purely chemically induced.
"You know you really ought to grab a bite to eat, dear." What was it about Psych ward nurses? All of them were either complete drill sergeants or the Grandmotherly type. The one in question had been the second variety. "You know there's not much you can do for awhile. Dr Millets said he'd be back again around seven pm and by then the results of the CT and other scans will be in, he'll have something more specific to tell you."
The nurses' unspoken meaning had been implicit. It was best to take the time to grab a bite to eat and maybe a nap.
Depending on both what the doctor and the messenger she's sent to find her father had to say, she honestly didn't know when she'd actually make it to her hotel to shower or get a real night's sleep.
She suspected…no, she knew it would likely be quite awhile.
Not that she would have gotten to sleep to begin with anyway.
"We can't tell you much yet, Miss Chase. We just won't be able to tell you the full extent of the damage until the results of some tests come in." She remembered the compassionate look on the Doctor's face the first time as she stood passively in the main waiting room and let him explain the slow deteriation of the situation. The man had seemed so…apologetic. As if were his fault. "I'm sorry but I have to say it really doesn't look good thus far. He'd" patted her hand ineffectually. "Maybe if she'd been found sooner… but we just don't know how long she was unconscious before the paramedics got there. So we'll have to take it slowly. Meantime I suggest you call any family in the area. It'll be good for all of you to have some support."
The words 'brain death' and 'overdose' were never spoken. They didn't have to be. Funny, how much less traumatic it seemed when you'd already done this at least four times before.
She'd told the Doctor she was the only family that was going to be available, and she never questioned whether or not the statement would be a lie.
************
The cab even smelled like her.
He didn't know if that was because they'd actually managed to find the same taxi service as she'd had, or if is was just a result of his over-active imagination. He supposed it didn't really matter either way. The past seven and a half hours had been a series of numbnesses followed by momentary instants of relief. The numbness had started when he'd first read the letter, had abated just long enough for them to find and book the noon flight out of LAX, and then returned. The others had sprung into action: Wes had gotten all the information he could about a place for them to stay, and sought directions to the hospital. Gunn had gone to both he and Wesley's apartments to grab emergency bags and stopped to get them some extra petty cash. Angel, though could think of nothing useful left to accomplish. He had packed his own bag. He'd confirmed when the flight was leaving and made a quick call to Giles in Sunnydale to see if he could give him any useful information about Cordelia's parents. The older watcher had known depressingly little.
So he'd been numb. He'd sat on the couch in the lobby, staring at criss-cross pattern askew in the floor tile and waited until it was time to leave. He might have tried to call her, but her cell phone was ringing to an answering service. Wes had said it was most likely turned off - that she'd already reached the hospital.
Best as they could tell she'd caught the five am red eye out of the city. It was after two. Now, crammed into the front sheet of a smoke-filled San Diego taxicab, he still felt cold. His mind just kept on rebooting on the same thought. Why hadn't she called? Why on earth hadn't she called him?
It was something his mind just couldn't wrap his logic around - that she'd left them a note and simply wondered off as if she'd told them she'd taken the day off to go shopping. Her mother was in the hospital, and she'd gone there alone. She hadn't called him. She hadn't called any of them. She'd simply left.
This didn't make sense. None it made sense. He watched the street signs pass, and shook his head when Wesley asked if he had any idea what he mother's first name was so they could locate her when they reached the main reception desk.
He had no clue.
She hadn't called him. She should have called him.
Her mother was in the -hospital- in San Diego. Why on earth hadn't she picked up a phone and called him?
Part 2 (of ?)
No one, including her father, had ever once told her she reminded him of her mother.
The saddest thing about that fact was that she'd never been able to say whether that omission was meant as a compliment or not.
There were certainly grounds to say such things, after all. Especially on the physical level. For while she was undeniably recognized as her father's daughter for her stubborn strength, for his 'laudable' pride, she also was unquestionably in possession of her mother's fine complexion and unforgettable face. They'd always said Cordelia Chase was a heart-rending beauty. She'd been such since the day she was born.
Margaret Chase, who'd detested the name Maggie on principle, had been the same. Even now, at forty-seven she didn't look more than a year over thirty. Even lying in a hospital bed. Her mother was so perfect…so picture perfect. She imagined that was probably what had first caught her father's eye about the woman and started the courtship between them, all those years ago.
That beauty had been what roped him in. Or at least she'd always assumed so. Anything else the woman might have been or offered was submerged under the depression and the anger by time her daughter had been old enough to want to seek it out.
She'd never been compared to her mother, and she never would be. Not in the way she looked and certainly not in the way she acted. Cordelia was 'remarkable' after all. Smart, 'whipcord' strong with the Chase constitution and the natural arrogance so many applauded in her father. She had the brains, the ambition, the breeding. She was going to do everyone proud. She had the survival instinct. She'd never break, they said.
Her mother, though, her mother was already shattered. The woman had always been so 'fragile,' they'd said. Especially after the other babies all died. She'd needed looking after. As if she were an overly dysfunctional family pet.
How many times, over all the years had she seen her going in an out of institutions: going off to get stronger? How many clinics and how many different drugs and how much apathy. She didn't know.
How many times? How many times had she been secretly grateful no one told her she was like her mother?
And how many times did a woman have to slit her wrists or pill herself unconscious before the people around her finally got a clue and just let her finally reach what she claimed to want the most. Her own right to meet her death.
"She hasn't always been like this, you know." Her Aunt Justine had been the only person she'd ever known who'd ever spoken clearly about the things the rest of her family and the staff had only whispered about. "I remember her at your age. She was a total corker. Such big dreams. Kept saying she was going to go off and join the peace core or something… Used to put our parents in absolute spasms. Oh Lord, Cor she was utterly astounding. You would have loved her."
She'd hated the stories. They made her miss the person she'd never known. It was so much easier not to imagine the person that had somehow been misplaced along the way. It helped diminish the sense of loss.
She'd never been her mother's daughter. And that was okay. It made the rare good moments all the better. They stayed locked in her memory like fragile flowers behind a plate glass of dream.
************
They hadn't known how they were going to find her, so needless to say they all just about fell over in shock when they saw her wading through the magazine shelf in the front of the gift shop. They called to her from across the lobby.
It took her a moment to register it was actually them.
"Guys." Her eyes were wide, surprised, as she turned and saw them approach. She glanced out into the building's main turn around as they made their way across the carpeted walkway, then rubbed a nervous hand back across her forehead and through her hair as if unsure how it was that they could have suddenly appeared. "How did you…what are you..."
"How could we -not.-" Wesley was already taking her hand.
Angel was a little more direct, once the others had stepped back he enfolded her in a mammoth hug, burying his nose into her hair. "You should have called." He didn't know whether he'd said it or simply -sent- the thought. Cordelia, meanwhile, simply buried her face in the leather of her coat. Her arms tightened around his waist.
He just held on. She just held on. She didn't cry though. And after a moment she stepped away. Shifting uneasily on her feet again.
"You guys didn't have to come. I mean thank you that you did but it's not like you can… She "paused uncomfortably. There just wasn't anything to say. No words to explain. "I need to get back upstairs. They'll be bringing her back soon...and the doctors will be able to tell me how much damage. Dad will want to know. He'll need to figure out whether he needs to fly in. He's in Europe, you know…he'd need to come back…"
Another pause. Another struggle to converse when so much was unexplainable. "Flowers. I was here to get flowers. Her room was so grim. I figured maybe some flowers and some magazines to give me something to do." She wondered back toward the gift shop.
They bought her her flowers. Her magazines. Wesley and Gunn confirmed the floor they were bringing her mom to from the woman at reception and Angel held her hand as they all stood and waited for the elevator.
She didn't cry. They didn't speak.
The hospital elevator made an eerily loud sounding ding as the doors slid shut.
He kept on holding her hand.
Part 3 (of ?)
************
(Severe anxst warning
For Tricia... Thank you for being willing to talk about this to make this one possible. I hope this story does justice and doesn't belittle some very real pain in some very real lives.
)
************
It was funny - ridiculous really - but he'd somehow never imagined that she could have actual parents. This woman was a ghost or a shadow or a myth. She looked young enough to have been an older sister or younger aunt…
At the best she looked to be on the early, or maybe late side of her thirties.
Well okay maybe not. Closer examination proved that her long hair, much like her daughter's, could drive away the appearance of years at first glance. But still. She certainly wasn't like he would have imagined a mother would be. Not Cordelia's mother at least. Her face still hadn't aged as much as he might have expected, and she seemed too slight. She didn't look warm or even distinguished. She didn't have the Cordelia charisma. She looked so tired. She was so eerily familiar.
It was Cordelia's face greeting them: a little older and more lined yes but still Cordelia's face. The Chases' apparently aged at rate defiant of most realms of conventionality - at least on the maternal side. And the image was so shocking. Harkening back to the Neuro-Psych ward all the way down to the bright pink hospital gown. It made him shudder.
She looked as if she were just outside of her mid-to-late thirties. And yet her knew she had to be at least a time and half that- probably adding a decade. Cordelia had been a late child in the marriage hadn't she? At least that's what he thought he'd once heard. Where did he remember hearing that? He didn't know.
It was like that time in the hospital after Vocah. He didn't like the associations. He didn't like the spiders crawling up his spine.
So he stood there awkwardly. Shifty and restless and not sure what to do with himself. The hospital room was too small. He'd always thought all hospital rooms were, to be honest, probably in part because every time he was in one the unsettling feeling of immortality always seemed to settle in. Hospitals weren't a place for Vampires: they set him on edge. For a vampire there was no heart to beat or organs to repair or body to heal…the demon could take care of itself. He didn't like to think about how he was different, and yet this place spoke of a scope of life that was desperately fragile where he was near invulnerable. He couldn't handle the dichotomy.
The chair had been too small as well. He'd given it to Wesley in exchange for a place by Cordelia as she sat on the edge of her mother's bed. He looked at the woman and the daughter again before clearing his throat. "She looks like you." 'Could you have sounded any more tacky?!'
Cordelia only gave him a strange smile for the words. "Actually, Angel, I think it's supposed to be the other way around."
************
They were here.
She didn't know why that surprised her, but somehow it did.
She supposed it was to be expected. After all, if she'd been the one reading the type of message she'd left for them on her desk and not the one writing it, she'd have no doubt caught the first available flight to San Francisco too. And she'd have chewed them out when she found them for leaving her behind. At least the others hadn't decided to go there yet. They'd all been very supportive… she'd have never been able to afford those fancier flowers.
She didn't know what to do with them or say to them though.
She didn't feel much of anything at all. She wondered if maybe she should start to get a little concerned about that.
"She looks like you." Angel's voice is uncomfortable when he finally speaks. It almost makes her smile. He's so twitchy…hasn't stayed still for more than a few seconds at a time. He'd never liked hospitals. She knows he'd rather be just about anywhere. Not that she could get him to leave.
"I think it's the other way around actually." The jibe comes mostly on instinct. If he'd been alive she suspected she probably would have just made him blush.
"Can we get you anything Cordy?" Gunn's voice is soft. It has to be the third…no maybe forth time that the man has said that in the past twenty minutes. She hasn't decided if he hasn't heard or doesn't believe any of her other answers. Wesley, meanwhile, simply sits and chews his bottom lip as he stares at the bed. She wonders what he's thinking. There's a look in his eyes at the moment: like he's been in this room before. She'd ask, but her mother's hands are starting to feel cold again, so instead she tucks them carefully back under the blankets.
"I'm fine thanks, Gunn. Really. I ate before you came in. Behind her, Angel shifts again and without thought she leans back against his chest - reaching back for his arms as he instinctively wraps them around her. "We just have to wait. The Doctor just needs to finish with his patient down the hall. The Nurse said he'd be here any minute."
He'd be here and she'd know what she was going to have to do then.
************
She'd found herself some family. He was relieved. The nurse, when he'd first talked to her over the phone had said the girl was alone. That she'd claimed she was all there was except for a single other relative who was apparently out of country. He hated those types of cases: hated having to give the kind of news he would have to without having a support system when the truth finally sunk in. And to have someone so young - to have to talk to a child about a parent without a cousin or uncle or even just a friend there - he didn't want to do it. She needed more than a kind stranger.
There were choices that were going to have to be made here soon. Unfair choices. Choices no one in their right mind should have to make alone in an empty room after hearing his kind of news from a polite, if sympathetic medical professional. She'd need someone to hold onto her.
He really hated this part of his job. He took a deep breath. "Miss Chase." He nodded to the others as he shook the young woman's extended hand. Then tried to figure out where he was supposed to begin.
"Miss Chase I'm afraid…"
"She finally did it, didn't she? Irrecoverable brain damage?"
The words practically shattered the room.
************
How was it that those words could come so candidly out of her mouth? All four of the men who'd heard them stopped and stared at her gapingly for several seconds before finally snapping their mouths shut. Angel, who'd still been holding her up until the Doctor walked through the doorway stepped forward again, reaching out for her instinctively. Only to find she pulled away from his touch. "Well I'm right, aren't I?" Her eyes were clear and so was her voice. Her shoulders were straight. For the expression on her face she might as well have been inquiring as to whether the cafeteria was still serving pasta for supper. And yet she knew. She knew the truth undeniably. There was no room for pleasantries.
The Doctor sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Miss Chase. The damage was already done when she was found. Total brain death as far as we can tell. There was nothing we could do."
They waited for the crack: for the whimper or the tears. Instead she shook her head and smiled involuntarily. Turned to the woman on the bed, stroking the hair off her forehead and then burying her face in her neck.
"Got the last word, huh?" They almost couldn't hear her whisper. "I knew…I knew it was gonna come down to this. Finally got the last word." The hand that had been limp against the covers was finally wrapped in a tight grip, and Cordelia's face was sleek with tears as she laid it down on her mother's chest. "You didn't bother to even call or write me a good-bye this time. Whatever happened to making a 'proper exit,' huh Mom?"
Finally, finally the tears came hard and hot. "Damn it Mama. Daddy's gonna be so pissed at you."
Part 4 (of ?)
He didn't know what to do with the panic that came from waking up in the main bedroom all alone.
Well okay, not exactly alone, he acknowledged to himself wryly as his eyes adjusted to the low lights. After all, Wesley was still passed out across the foot of the king sized mattress they'd been sitting on earlier, while Gunn slumbered on the floor between the dresser and the room's now halfway open window. Both men, like him, had wandered in sometime during the night before. Grief is much like a stone in a pond: it has a lot of undetectable ripples... Some you couldn't see at first and some that were hidden. Each man no doubt had felt his own shares of memories and thoughts, and yet not one felt the need to try and dominate. A circle of friends had formed where there was no vying for lead or for right to comfort. They wrapped themselves around her.
And as for Cordelia? She seemed to be rocking back and forth between rational, numb and totally uncomprehending. The young seer had responded to their clumsy attempts at solace in varying degrees: there were times they doubted she was even aware of their presences - and other times she'd grabbed on and refused to let go. They'd let her take the lead in it.
They'd done what they could to help. 'What they could' included securing decent overnight lodgings. The address she's provided when they'd gotten into the cab had been atrocious. Angel had never even let her out of the front seat.
She'd let them cancel her reservation at the run down inn and locate a hotel with a suite big enough for all of them. She hadn't once brought up the issue of what this was going to do to their budget. They'd exchanged steadily deepening frowns.
Once inside the spacious penthouse rooms, they'd made a weak attempt at feeding her. Gunn had pushed her gently toward a hot shower and they'd tucked her into bed before retreating to the living room to plan for the morning as her door sat propped open. The first nightmare came about forty minutes after the lights went out for the night: they wouldn't have heard her if Angel's hearing hadn't been so good. He'd ended up on top of her covers as she spooned up against him - desperate for the strength of contact. Staring at the wall, but never shedding a conscious tear.
And that had been all there was to it. Pure exhaustion and pure pain, both so singular and sharp that even if he'd had to breathe probably wouldn't have been able to. After watching at the door momentarily, Wesley disappeared from view for several minutes only to reappear again with a bottle of whiskey and a set of glasses between his hands. Gunn had come in with sandwiches and coffee after about a half hour after that. Together the four had eaten, drunk and talked about the fact that none of them had ever crossed the Golden Gate bridge. The hours had passed. They'd discussed the childhood trips they'd taken and played a game of poker with the pretzels from the mini-bar set up for collateral. Cordelia had finally fallen back asleep about two o-clock in the morning after the sixth hand of vicious game of five-card stud. She'd been curled up against him.
She wasn't on the bed any longer. That thought brought him awake and upright the minute his eyes opened. His hand went to his chest where her warm weight had been pressing down against his shoulder, and his eyes scanned the dark room as he spoke her name. "Cordy? The words "were a low whisper and he pushed himself to his feet when he received no answer.
"Coredelia?" He moved toward the living room, wincing as his eyes adjusted to the brighter light. There was no sign of her there or in any of the other bedrooms, though. Had she wandered off somewhere?
He was about to go back and wake up the boys as well when he finally noticed the open patio door.
************
San Francisco was really quite beautiful at night.
Funny, really, that she'd never noticed that before. The magic of an illuminated city, she meant. After all, she'd lived and worked in after-dark Los Angeles for almost two and a half years now, and yet at no point during that time had she ever noticed at home what she was so clearly seeing now. Some people said the city went to hell at night - to her view it was fairly blazing instead. She couldn't take her eyes of it. A dim part of her warned that it was getting much to cold to be out here without even a coat or a pair of shoes, but she couldn't seem to drag herself away from the metal railing. It was beautiful, so very very beautiful… She liked the feeling of peace. Peace was such a welcome friend.
"Hey! Hey you're gonna freeze to death out here dressed like that."
A woolen cloth was draped unceremoniously across her goose-bump covered shoulders. She didn't take her eyes from the view in front of her. "It's really beautiful out here in the middle of the night."
Angel didn't reply, just tightened the fabric around her neck before pulling her back against him.
She only faintly missed his heartbeat.
************
He wasn't sure whether it was numbness or just truth he was hearing in her voice, and either way he supposed it didn't really matter, so he just busied himself with tightening the wrap around her body before he pulled her back into strong embrace. "You had me worried there for a moment… woke up and thought you'd flown the coup on us or something."
Her eyes met his for a moment before turning back to the panorama in front of her, and he saw the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.
"Started feeling kind of cramped actually…tell Wesley he's a horrible hog with the covers. She gav"e a little laugh. He slid his hands down toward hers. He frowned at the coolness when he found them.
."It's awfully cold to be out here in a t-shirt and boxers without even socks, you know. He frow"ned as he rubbed at her arms. "And look at this, you're colder than -I- normally am. Maybe we should go back inside?" He tried to steer her toward the glass doors leading to the living room but she resisted, still leaning against the wide railing. It was several seconds before she spoke again.
"No...I want to stay. Look at it out there Angel, I mean sure I've seen stuff like it before but I've never really noticed."
She glanced back at him and he allowed his chin to rest against his shoulder, looking where she pointed. "You know when I was a kid Mom used to say she'd take me to the planetarium to see the real stars someday, but this is almost as good. I mean is it just me or does everything seem to twinkle? It practically vibrates."
The statement started him a little. It was the first direct reference she'd made to her mom since they'd left the hospital, and the pain-free melancholy on in her expression heartened him.
"Yeah." He forced himself not to squeeze her any tighter and instead continued rubbing his hands up and down, promoting friction as he reflected a moment and then replied. "It is quite a show with vampire vision. All cities glow when you've got my eyes. Light in general does actually… you just have to look real hard to see it. It's one of the few thing I really like about being this way."
She tilted her head quizzically. He gave her a bashful smile. Squeezing his hand beneath the blanket she leaned back against his chest even father to peer up directly at the sky. "I wonder if Daddy can see the stars wherever he is now."
The logical part of him said if the man was in Europe it was highly unlikely since it would already be past down, but that wasn't going to be of any use to her. Instead the moment had passed, and his initial concerns were stubbornly resurfacing. "Are you ready to go back inside now? You're gonna be an ice cube if you stay out here much longer. We can always talk inside"
She considered a moment then nodded and allowed him to turn her toward inside.. "Yeah, I think I could use some fresh, burn-hot coffee before I head back to the hospital, anyway."