"Mrs. Nickerson?"

Nancy was drawn, hollow-eyed, picking at a loose thread in the side seam of her jeans. Her blue eyes were slow to light with recognition, and her smile, once it appeared, was wan. "Nurse Evelyn."

"The doctor's ready to talk to you."

The smile, small as it was, vanished. "Ned?"

Nurse Evelyn looked away. Security was keeping the hospital lobby clear of reporters and cameramen, with no mean effort. The shooting the day before had arrested the attention of the Chicago media, and Officer Nickerson was already being heralded as the hero. He had been talking the gunmen down, allowing the snipers to get a shot, but before the hostage rescue team had arrived, a nervous thug had released an unprovoked bullet. Twenty minutes later, twelve officers had been injured, two dead, and all the hostage-takers motionless in pools of their own blood.

Ned's surgery took fourteen hours. The damage was on its way to being repaired; Evelyn was less sanguine about the prognosis.

Nancy stood, hugging her stomach, the cuffs of her well-worn sweatshirt pulled up over the heels of her hands despite the summer heat. Her blue eyes were rimmed in pink. "Please. They haven't told me anything for hours."

The stance was all too familiar to Evelyn, to most of the nurses in the hospital, who had all known Nancy from a child, through scraped knees and sprained ankles to concussions and hairline fractures. In the past two years, after her marriage to Ned, she had settled down. She'd still been a regular at Chicago Memorial, though. In the past eighteen months, she'd come to the hospital, suffering from three successive miscarriages. And Nurse Evelyn, and the other women who had bandaged sprains and set broken bones, had seen her speechless heartbreak, the tender care Ned took of his shattered wife.

Now Nancy was the one sitting in one of the hard plastic chairs, fidgeting with the cheap paper cups and the old faded magazines, waiting for news, terrified of what it would be. She was a minor celebrity in her own right, and Evelyn had seen a few tabloid-scum reporters tossed out on their ears the last time Nancy had been waking to find herself hollowed out, but the lure of this was irresistible. Evelyn was sure that a grainy photo of a hero's grief-stricken wife would pay handsomely.

She took Nancy's arm and drew her away from the window, noting how the younger woman shivered even in her sweatshirt, an oversized hoodie that swallowed her slender frame. Her husband's. Evelyn did a few rough calculations in her head and hoped to God that they hadn't been trying again, that Ned would come out of it in time if they had.

"He's in his office. Just, go talk to him. I'll be out here. It'll be all right."

Evelyn gave Nancy her best smile, but Nancy looked straight through it. Evelyn's gaze was the first to drop.

"For how long?"

Nancy's gaze traced the squares of fresh fuzzy gauze, the vent tubes, the IV lines. She could see the bullet trajectories and the flecks of shrapnel, could see where he had been hurt, so many times. Even with a bulletproof vest, so much damage, so much damage could be done. Had been done, to him, to the man she loved, the man who had comforted her and held her and loved her, who had sworn to her the day he graduated the police academy that he would always come home to her.

It took all she had, not to cry.

"We're not sure."

"He's... he's been in a coma before. For a little while."

She knew the doctor knew; she had filled out Ned's admission form, between sobs, with her hand shaking the entire time. The doctor nodded. Nancy looked at Ned's bare left hand, his strong jaw.

"He was okay then."

"We will let you know as soon as his condition changes. He's been through a traumatic event. His body needs time to heal."

Nancy nodded, sinking to the chair beside his bed. "Okay."

Summer passed into fall, fall into winter. The day Ned was moved to a private rehabilitation facility, his skin gone pale and slack from lack of sunlight, Nancy was beside him; one particularly quick photographer managed to snap the moment, the wife, her long red hair swept back and blowing in the crisp autumn breeze, one arm protectively over her fallen husband.

And she came to him every day she could. Sometimes she spent her days puzzling through clients' problems, to stave off the homesickness she felt when she saw his empty recliner, the empty side of the bed, but more often than not she was there. She told him how the leaves were changing, about Bess's newest plan to lose ten pounds and find a boyfriend, about George's marathons and Hannah's cakes and her father's cases; she talked and talked to him, hoping that anything would filter through to him and call him back to her.

And then, one afternoon in early February, Nancy came in with her messenger bag, unwinding her scarf, and saw the doctor standing over Ned's bed. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Mrs. Nickerson?"

Nancy nodded quickly, wiping her wet cheek impatiently. "How is he? Is he okay?"

The doctor nodded and smiled. "He's been trying to come out of it," the man said. "Now that you're here, though..."

Nancy nodded, reaching for her husband's hand, stroking her thumb over his fingers. They had given her his wedding band after they had taken it off for the surgery; she wore it on a long chain around her neck, and it rested over her heart as she gazed into his face. "Hey baby," she whispered, bringing her other hand up to stroke his cheek. "It's okay, Ned. It's okay. Come back to me, sweetheart."

Her heart was in her throat when he slowly began to stir; the monitor in the corner chirped every time his own gave a beat, and she felt another tear slip down her cheek with every moment he stayed asleep.

Then his eyelashes fluttered, and Nancy bit back a sob, her eyes swimming. She had missed him so much, so so much. She had missed looking into his gorgeous brown eyes, and as soon as he opened them, she began to cry in earnest.

"Nancy... Nancy," he whispered weakly, blinking up at her. "Sweetheart..."

"Hey," she told him with a smile, stroking his cheek. "Welcome back."

His brow creased. "What happened," he murmured.

The doctor stepped in as Nancy squeezed his hand and felt him return the grip. "Mr. Nickerson—I'm Dr. Raines. You've been in a coma for the past seven months, following a hostage situation. Do you remember any of that?"

Ned shook his head slowly. "No," he whispered. "Hostage...?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Ned swallowed, and Nancy reached for the pitcher beside his bed, offering him some water, slipping her hand back into his as he sipped. "Going to the lake," he said finally, his voice still weak. "July fourth."

"So you might have lost that week," the doctor said, making a notation on his chart. "Okay. I'll be right back."

Nancy wiped her cheeks as Ned turned his gaze back to her. "Hey sweetheart," he whispered, and she smiled at him. "It's okay."

"It is now," she whispered, and took his hand, guiding it to rest on the curve of her belly. Ned tipped his head up, his eyes widening, and she saw them gleam with tears.

"Oh my God," Ned whispered. "We did it? It's... it's real?"

She nodded slowly, moving his hand so he could feel their child kick against the side of her belly, and Ned gasped, a tear streaking down his cheek. "It's real, sweetheart," she whispered. "She's real."

Ned tightened his grip on her and she came to him willingly, nestling her face against his neck, just breathing him in. Both of their faces were wet with tears. "Oh my God," he whispered again. "How—how long?"

"Since July fourth," she whispered. "I was so afraid you were going to miss it, baby. It was so hard..."

"Oh, Nan," Ned said softly, slipping his arms around her. "Oh my God, I can't believe it..."

She kissed his neck softly. "You swore you'd always come home," she whispered against his skin. "And I've been waiting seven months to take you home... Don't ever do this to me again." She pulled back to look into his eyes. "Please."

He cupped her cheek in his palm, shaking his head. "I swear," he said hoarsely. "I swear I won't, baby. I love you so much."

She blinked and sent another pair of tears down her cheeks. "And I love you," she whispered.

"I can't believe it," he whispered. "Oh, Nan, I can't believe it." His hand drifted down her belly again, and she smiled when the baby kicked in response. "It's real."

She nodded, and their gazes stayed locked even as she heard the doctor come back in. "It's real," she whispered. "Now you just have to get better so you can meet her in a couple of months, baby."

"If you'll just give us a few minutes, Mrs. Nickerson," the doctor said quietly behind her.

Nancy nodded, squeezing Ned's hand again, then reached for her necklace, sliding it over her head. She slipped the band back onto his finger, then bent over him, her hair drifting over his cheek as she brushed her lips against his.

"Come back to me," she whispered. "Tell them to let you out of here soon so you can come home to me."

He laced his fingers in her hair, drawing her back down to him for another soft kiss. "I swear I will."