She was in the hospital.
She lifted her eyelids and blinked them rapidly, trying to clear her vision. For a moment, she thought she was waking up from the coma again. She'd been dreaming about a beach. Her beach. Their beach. Since she'd woken up, she'd never dreamed about any of their places. To suddenly be thrust into that world again, and just as abruptly woken from it, well ... disorienting wasn't a strong enough word.
Am I really awake? Maybe this is the dream, and the other place is reality.
“How are you feeling?”
Adele froze at the sound of a voice. The voice. She didn't dare turn to look for fear movement would scare the dream away.
Please, please, please ...
“You had a little fainting spell,” Jones appeared in her field of vision. She stopped breathing. “And because of your past history, we felt it was best to move you into a room. Your doctor – Dr. Martin – is on his way down here.”
She stared at him. She'd crossed eternity with this man, and yet at that moment, he felt like ... a stranger. He was moving around the room with a professional air, checking the machinery running around her and reading over her medical file, not sparing her any glances at all. He was acting like she was just some ... patient.
It was almost like he didn't know her.
“I fainted,” she finally breathed. He glanced up from the file and gave her a tight smile.
He definitely looked different, that was for sure – her Jones had always been clean shaven, his hair neatly styled, his fashion sense bordering on preppy.
This Jones had what looked like two days worth of stubble on his face, and his dirty blond hair was a cute, but messy, mop on his head. He had on a pair of soft blue scrubs, with a gray thermal shirt underneath, and he was marching around in a pair of old Nike's. Everything looked well worn.
Yet there was no doubt it, it was him. The same man. The perfectly proportioned nose, the firm jaw, the full bottom lip. Peeking out at the edge of his stubble, she could even make out a tiny scar just under his ear. Funny, she'd memorized its shape long ago, but she'd never thought to ask him about it.
And the coup de grâce – those eyes. He glanced at her again and she got their full dose. Deep green whirlpools, prying into her thoughts and her soul. They didn't hold their usual warmth, there was no hidden smile in them right now, but they did look friendly and concerned, and that was good enough for her.
“I know you,” she croaked out, and he finally smiled at her.
“I suppose in a way, yes,” he agreed, but that just confused her.
“In a way?”
“We've never been formally introduced,” he told her, then he pulled up a chair and sat next to her bed. “I'm Johannes Lund, I was your nurse.”
He held out his hand and she stared at it like she didn't know what to do with it. He wanted to shake hands with her? She racked her brain, trying to remember if they'd ever shaken hands. Even during their first meeting, he'd just been so immediately comfortable with her, holding her and rocking her through her fears on the train.
He wants to shake hands and I want to crawl inside his soul.
“My nurse?” she asked. He nodded and dropped his hand to the bed's remote control, pushing buttons until the top half started to lift, raising her into a sitting position.
“Yes. About a month after you were admitted, I started working in the ICU. I would've introduced myself before, but I got a nasty virus right before you woke up and was forced to stay home. I wasn't able to come back to work for almost ten days. When I was finally allowed back to work, you'd already been released. But I was your main nurse, I was there every day with you right up until I got sick. We've spent a lot of time together, you and I,” he tried to make it sound like a joke.
Buddy, you have no idea.
“No,” she groaned, rubbing her fingertips across her forehead. “You and I, we ...”
Jones waited patiently while she tried to find the right words, but when it was obvious she was at a loss, he went on talking.
“I have a lot of experience with patients with head trauma, I worked in the neurology unit at a hospital in Denver for years,” he explained. “You're probably the most amazing case I've ever worked on, though.”
“I am?” she asked, and when he smiled this time, it finally reached his eyes. The look stole her breath a little and she fell even more in love with him.
“Sure. You were in a comatose state for about four months, then woke up one day and pretty much walked out the door. That's virtually unheard of, Ms. Reins. You're a medical marvel,” he teased.
She'd heard all this before, of course, so it didn't make her feel uncomfortable. Him referring to her as “Ms. Reins”, though, made her want to crawl out of her skin.
“Yeah. Yeah, so they tell me,” she mumbled, struggling to lift herself away from the mattress. “Look, Jones, I'm a little -”
“What did you call me?”
His voice was sharp when he interrupted, startling her. She stopped moving and looked at him, frozen in place by his emerald stare.
“Your name?” she asked, glancing around. “That's your name, isn't it? Johannes Lund?”
“That's not what you called me.”
“Jones. I called you 'Jones' – it's short for Johannes, for you, right?”
She wouldn't have thought it possible, but his stare grew even more intense. A few more minutes and he'd probably burn a hole straight through her.
“How do you know that name?” he demanded.
“Because ... because it's your name,” she babbled.
“No one has called me that in ... jesus, longer than a year. How do you know it?” he asked. She had no clue how to respond appropriately, so she just said what came to mind first.
“You told me it,” she replied.
His jaw dropped.
“I never -”
“Ms. Reins!” a loud voice boomed through the room, cutting the tension in half. They both whipped their heads around and saw her neurologist striding across the floor. He snatched her file from Jones' lap and started flipping through it. “Glad to see you're already awake. I heard you gave the nurses quite a scare.”
“Doctor, I think she -” Jones stood up and folded his arms across his chest.
“Please, you don't understand, I need to -” she tried to stop him.
“Everything seems fine with your head, thankfully,” Dr. Martin ignored both of them as he scanned her paperwork. “Your iron counts look a little low, you have some mild anemia, and though you've gained a lot of weight since your coma, I'd like to see you put on some more. That's probably what caused the fainting spell. I'm going to schedule an appointment with a nutritionist ...”
The doctor's voice faded away as Adele's mind began to race. It hadn't been anemia or hunger causing her to faint, she knew. She frowned and started yanking at the oxygen monitor attached to her finger.
“I don't want to see a nutritionist. I want – need – to talk privately with Jones,” she insisted.
“Who?” Dr. Martin asked.
“Uh ...” Jones added in an awkward voice.
“With Jo-, er, with Nurse Lund,” she corrected herself, glancing at his ID badge.
“Ah, Nurse Lund. Took excellent care of you while you were out,” the doctor informed her.
Yes, yes he did – now if only he could remember.
“Thank you, doctor,” Jones said in a slow, calm voice. She didn't care for his tone at all – he was acting like she was some sort of wacko. “But I think Ms. Reins is a little confused, I'm worried about her. You might want to keep her for observation.”
“I know he took excellent care of me,” she snapped, hating how they were talking about her like she wasn't in the room. “I was there.”
The doctor and nurse glanced at each other, and though Adele knew getting upset was only going to make things worse, she couldn't help it. When she'd first woken up and had realized she'd probably never see Jones again, she'd thought she was in hell. This, though, was much worse, and she was not equipped to handle it.
“Yes, yes, of course you were there,” Dr. Martin agreed. “Adele, I think we should lay you back down. I've contacted your brother, I'll just call him back and tell him we're keeping you for the night.”
“I'm fine! All I want, all I need, is to talk to him!” she demanded, pointing a finger at Jones.
“Maybe it would be better if I left, I think I'm upsetting her,” he responded, then started taking slow backwards steps towards the door.
No. Adele couldn't let him get away. She'd just found him. He could walk out the door and be gone forever again. Panic settled in almost instantaneously. She hurriedly climbed out of the hospital bed and grabbed him by the arm.
“We know each other,” she spoke fast. “We saw each other every day. All the time. Everywhere.”
“Yes, I was your nurse, I did see you every day. Now if you could just do what we say right now, everything will get a lot better.”
“When has telling me what to do ever worked out for you, Jones?”
It burst out of her mouth without any forethought. She'd spent a lifetime with him, multiple lifetimes, so slipping into their old banter came naturally to her. Too naturally, it seemed. He was visibly stunned by the familiarity in her voice – and so was the doctor.
“You two have been interacting with each other outside the hospital?” Dr. Martin guessed.
“No.”
“Yes.”
They both spoke in unison, and Jones' jaw dropped at her response. The doctor noted the reaction, then seemed to make a decision.
“Right. Back in bed, Ms. Reins, I'd like to just quickly check again for a concussion,” he said, and it seemed to snap Jones out of his temporary trance. He struggled with the hold Adele had on his arm.
“I'm fine!” she insisted. “Please, just listen to me! You told me I would find you, remember? You told me this would happen.”