When next he awoke, later that day, Rollie found that Angie was not in the room.  Instead, the face of Frank Gatti beamed back at him.

“Hey, Rollie.  How ya doing, pal?” he asked, sounding very much like Leo McCarthy.

Again, Rollie struggled to speak.  It was a little easier this time.  “An..gie?”

Francis smiled.  “She went home, finally.  I guess all she needed was to hear your lovely Australian accent to be convinced that she didn’t need to babysitting you anymore.  Mira and I have been trying to get her to go home for quite some time now.  We were starting to discuss the prison terms we would get if we bound and gagged her and carried her home by force.”

Rollie smiled.  By what she had said, he’d suspected that Angie had been spending a lot of time at the hospital, but he hadn’t guessed that she’d never gone home at all.  How long had he been there?  A week?  Two weeks?  By now, Bill must have gotten someone else to finish Double-Edged.  He couldn’t really say that he was sad about that.  Bill Harris could drive a saint to drink.  Rollie pitied the F/X company that took over the job.  He was concerned about the job with Jack Traber, though.  The producer of the upcoming White Light was a great guy who understood that it took time to create good special effects magic.  Rollie was looking forward to working on the project, a near death experience movie with an interesting twist.

Francis kept him company for a little while, then headed off back to work.  Rollie had wanted to ask him some questions, but it was still very hard to talk.  He decided to save his strength for when Angie returned.

Though he didn’t let on, he was really worried about the difficulty in talking and getting his body to move the way he wanted it to.  Mark Langford came in later that day during one of the periods where Rollie was awake and told the Aussie that he and a specialist would explain things to him tomorrow.  But the Aussie wanted Angie to tell him what had happened.  He was certain that she had held a lot back when she talked to him before.  Rollie knew that he had been shot in the chest, but he didn’t understand how that could affect his motor skills or speech.  There was also the incredible weakness that he felt, like all his strength had been drained right out of him.  He was determined that, when Angie came back, he was going to get the whole story from her.

The object of Rollie’s thoughts was, at that moment, parking her car at the loft.  She had stopped at the store first to pick up some groceries, knowing it was very unlikely that much of anything in the fridge had survived this long.  She had intended to go home to her apartment, but found herself unconsciously heading in the direction of the loft.  Angie drove alone and without a police escort.  Mira was pretty well convinced that, after all the time that had passed, she was no longer in danger.  The man killed on the set must have been the only one involved in the murder.

The detectives had hit a dead end on the case.  Whoever the man had been, he must have been very good at his job.  In fact, his only mistake seemed to be when he chose to mess with a certain Australian named Rollie Tyler.  He would have gotten away clean if it hadn’t been for that.  Angie still found herself wondering who the man’s victim had been and why he had been killed.  There was a good chance that they would never know.

As Angie entered the loft, Blue barked a greeting.  She saw him coming toward her, tail wagging.  “Hey, Blue.  How are you doing?  Did you get lonely?”  She doubted that the little robot could actually get lonely, but there had been times in the past when Blue had acted more like a living creature than the collection of wires, gears, and computer chips that he really was.  “Well, don’t you worry now.  Rollie will be back home soon.”  Bluey let out another bark and wagged his tail again.  She told him to turn on the lights.  Just to be safe, Angie checked him and the security system to see if there had been any unauthorized entries.  All clear.  Not that she had really expected anything.

Angie gave a contented sigh.  It was good to be home.  Technically speaking, the loft wasn’t really her home, not since her father’s death.  But she spent so much time there that she sometimes found herself still thinking of it as one.  Also, it was Rollie’s home.  That alone made it seem kind of like hers, too.  She really should have gone to her apartment.  But these days that she had spent at her friend’s bedside had forged a special connection between them that she did not want to break, and being here, where the feel of his presence was so strong, made it seem as if she was still physically close to him, even though he was actually miles away.

Angie tossed a huge pile of mail onto Rollie’s workstation.  A stop at the post office had been the first thing she did.  When she opened the post office box, she’d found a note from the postmaster saying that the box had become overfull and she could pick up the mail at the desk.  When she did, she was presented with a box crammed full of mail, most of which were greeting cards and letters from people whom Rollie knew.

Angie checked the Aussie’s e-mail and was shocked to see that there were two hundred and twenty-eight new messages.  She skimmed down the list, recognizing most of the names there as people from the movie industry, as well as quite a few from law enforcement officers and people whom Rollie had helped in his work with Leo McCarthy and, later, Mira Sanchez.  Angie smiled.  It was going to be wonderful giving all these letters to Rollie and showing him how many people cared about him.

As Angie continued down the list, she spied two from Lucinda and chose to print them out right away.  While they were printing, she decided to check the answering service.  As she suspected, there were dozens of calls.  It would take hours, even days to go though all the calls, letters, and cards.  It would have to wait until later.  Right now, she had the dirty job of clearing out the refrigerator.

Angie gagged as she opened the refrigerator door, having suddenly been assailed by an incredible odor of decay.  She pulled out some hamburger that had long ago turned to grey and was beginning to take on a bluish cast.  Then went the dairy products, some fur-bearing fruit, and a few other things that she could no longer identify.  After cleaning up the mess, she restocked the fridge with her purchases.  The ordinary task seemed somehow strange to her.  Her life had been so different lately.  It was going to take a little while to get used to things being back to normal.  Of course, her life wouldn’t really be back to normal until Rollie came home.

Angie had been wondering how to handle things concerning her love for Rollie.  Doctor Langford had told her that it was very unlikely that Rollie would remember anything about what had happened while he was comatose or during the first few days he was emerging from the coma.  Everything that she had told him--her love for him, how she had felt when she thought she was going to lose him, all of it--would be as if she had never spoken it.  Should she tell him again?  She had sworn that if Rollie wanted to remain just friends, she would accept that.  Should she drop all this on him now and see how he reacted or wait until he was completely recovered?  Angie admitted to herself that she was still afraid to tell him.

She still found herself wondering about the dream from time to time.  It had seemed so real, yet how could it have been anything but a dream?  Still, the thought that it might have been more than that made Angie smile.  She wanted it to have been more than a dream.  If it was, it would mean that Rollie felt the same about her as she did about him.

Angie turned her attention to the boxes of cereal.  By now, some of them might be getting stale.  She pulled out a box of Cheerios and some sheets of paper fell out from behind it.

“What’s this?”  Angie picked up the papers.  Her eyes widened when she saw what they were and that her name was on them.  The blonde sat down heavily and stared at them.  Rollie had intended to make her a full partner in the business.

“Oh, Rollie,” she whispered as she thought about the fact that he had intended to give half of the business he loved to her.

Angie straightened the papers, then put them and the cereal box back where they had been.  She wasn’t going to mention finding them.  After everything that had happened, she didn’t know if Rollie would follow through on this, but whether or not he did didn’t matter.  It made no difference if she was a partner in the business or she wasn’t.  All that really mattered was being with him.

The blonde looked over at the Christmas tree and the presents beneath it.  A moment of sadness touched her, but she pushed it away.  Today was a day of celebration.  Rollie was coming back to her.

Sighing, Angie suddenly felt unbelievably tired.  Slowly, she climbed the stairs to the bedroom.  Fighting to keep her eyes open, she made it to the bed.  Not bothering to shed her clothes, she lay down.  She could still faintly smell Rollie’s scent in the pillow.  Sighing again, this time in contentment, Angie snuggled into its softness and slipped into a deep slumber.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN -- QUESTIONS

Angie had intended to spend the day away from the hospital.  There were so many things that needed to be done.  She made it as far as noon.  Quietly stepping into the room, she saw that Rollie was awake and looking out the window.  He turned toward her and smiled.  She moved to his bedside, took his hand, and whispered, “Hi.”

Rollie looked up at her, drinking in the sight of her beautiful face.  He had been doing a lot of thinking in the hours he’d spent alone, trying to remember more of what happened to him.  He did not know if it was his persistence or if Angie’s brief explanation had unlocked a door somewhere in his mind, but he was starting to recall things.  He remembered a man aiming a gun at Angie, him diving in front of her, an explosion of pain in his chest.  There were strange memories of a cold blackness engulfing him, then of a voice full of anguish crying his name, other memories of people gathered around him, saying that he was dying, Angie crying at his bedside, begging him not to die, strange and familiar voices coming and going.  But, through it all, Angie’s presence was always there in the room, her soft voice speaking to him constantly.  There were huge gaps in the picture and things that he was unsure were reality or dreams.  Most of the memories were scrambled, mixed up.  One moment he would recall something with great clarity, then the next moment, it would slip away into the fog.  He was certain that there was something important that he should remember, but it would not come to him.  It was very frustrating, almost as frustrating as the physical helplessness he was feeling.  He wanted to be able to get out of bed, to walk around.  He wanted to feed himself, rather than have food pumped into his stomach through a tube inserted in his abdomen.  Most of all, he wanted to lift his arms up and put them around Angie.  But he couldn’t.  His body would stubbornly fight his attempts to do what he wanted it to.  Then there was the talking.  He had so much that he wanted to say, especially to Angie, but his voice did not want to cooperate.  Seeing her there beside him now gave Rollie the willpower to try again.

“Tell . . . more.  All . . . of it.”

Angie sobered at the request.  He was asking her to tell him everything about the shooting.  Was he ready?  Perhaps not, but she was not going to hide it from him any longer.  She sat down on the bed, took a deep breath, and began to recount the events that almost destroyed their lives.

“We were at the warehouse.  We’d just finished with what we were going to do that night in setting up for the gun battle and pallet gags for Double-Edged.  You were testing the detonator on the pallet cables when a man with a gun came in.  I guess he must have surprised Henry and knocked him out.  He’d come to kill me because of what I’d seen in the alley.  You managed to maneuver him right under the pallet, intending to trigger the explosives.  But he suddenly turned the gun on me.  You . . . you dove in front of me just as he fired.  The bullet hit you instead of me.  You must have hit the switch for the explosives, because they went off, and the pallet fell on him.”

Rollie’s hand slowly moved up to the bandages on his chest.  Angie saw the movement and took his other hand in hers.

“The bullet. . . .”  She paused, clearing her throat of the lump that was forming.  “The bullet hit your heart, Rollie.  You . . . you died.”  Her voice broke.  Angie’s grasp on Rollie’s hand tightened.  With great difficulty, she continued.  “But then, you came back.  You were rushed to the hospital as quickly as possible, but you lost a lot of blood.  The flow to your brain was cut off for a while.  You were in a coma for nine days.”  She cleared her throat again.  “It’s because of the loss of blood flow to your brain that you are having a hard time talking and moving.  But Doctor Langford and the specialist he called in both say that there’s a good chance you’ll have a complete recovery.”

The knowledge of how close he’d come to death and how bad his injuries were, had a profound effect on Rollie.  He had escaped death many times in the past.  But this time . . . this time, death had almost caught him.  It made him feel scared, and humble, and very grateful. ‘You were damn lucky, Rollie.  Don’t forget that,’ he told himself.

Rollie turned his attention back to Angie.  “How . . . long . . . since. . . ?”

“It’ll be three weeks tomorrow.”

“Three . . . weeks.”  Rollie was stunned.  He’d had no idea it had been that long.  And Angie had been here almost all that time.

Angie saw the look on Rollie’s face.  “Actually, the doctors say that your progress has been extraordinarily fast, considering your injuries.  It’ll take time, Rollie.  But I’ll be here to help you in any way that I can.”

Rollie gazed into her eyes, love for her filling his soul.  “I know . . . you will.  And I’ll . . . be here . . . for you.”

The following morning, Angie sat with Rollie, waiting for the doctors to arrive.  Angie was nervous about the visit, concerned that Ridenhour might be too blunt about the odds of the Aussie having a complete recovery and how long it might take for it to happen.

Ridenhour had been consulting on another case for the past week and had not been to see Rollie during that time, but he had been kept informed of the Aussie’s progress, and Angie had talked to him on the phone once.  During that conversation, she had asked the doctor his honest opinion about the odds of a full recovery.  Though not bad, they weren’t as good as Angie had hoped, and the amount of time he had said it might take had left her feeling dispirited.

All through yesterday, Rollie had talked about how anxious he was to get out of the hospital and back to work, and Angie hadn’t had the heart to tell him that it could be a very long time before he’d be physically capable of returning to work.  She couldn’t tell him that there was a chance he might never be able to do what he did before.  She knew that Rollie was aware of what people with brain damage went through to recover, but he seemed to be convinced that he would be up on his feet and back to work in a few weeks.  Or maybe it was that he simply could not face the truth, so, instead, was denying it.

It was a little after nine when Doctor Langford and Ridenhour came in.

“Well, it’s good to see you awake, Mister Tyler,” Ridenhour said after being introduced by Mark.  “I must say that this is an extraordinary improvement over the first time I saw you.”

“So I’ve heard,” Rollie said, his speech still slow and broken, slurring on occasion.

Mark explained to Rollie what had happened to him, going into more detail than what Angie had.  The Aussie asked only a couple of questions, clearly unsettled by how close he’d come to dying.

After Mark was finished, Doctor Ridenhour began asking Rollie some questions to determine the level of the Aussie’s cognitive abilities and his memory of events prior to the shooting.  Angie could tell that the man was surprised by the fact that Rollie’s mental faculties appeared virtually unimpaired, though Angie, knowing him as well as she did, did notice that it seemed to take Rollie slightly longer to figure things out than it had before.  The Aussie’s memory of events prior to the day he was shot was perfect.  His recollection of the day of the shooting was sketchy, and he had only a vague memory of the shooting itself, which was to be expected.

Ridenhour went on to ask Rollie about his physical limitations, what he could and could not do and how long it took for his body to respond to commands his brain gave it.  After the neurologist was done, the Aussie asked the question that Angie had been dreading.

“How long is it going to take me to get back to normal?”

“There is no way to know for sure, Mister Tyler,” Ridenhour told him.  “We have every hope of you making a complete recovery, but it would be unfair not to warn you that there is a chance of some permanent impairment.”

“Permanent impairment?  You mean that I might not get back to the way I was before?”  There was a note of distress in the Aussie’s voice.

“Rollie, you have to understand the seriousness of what happened to you,” Mark said.  “The brain is a very delicate and complex organ.  When it is damaged, it’s not always possible for it to recover fully.  Now, there are thousands of cases of people with substantial brain damage, far worse than yours, making complete recoveries, but there are also many other cases where that doesn’t happen.  You just need to be prepared.”

Rollie stared down at the bedcovers, his mind trying to accept the possibility that he might never be able to walk without a cane, that his speech might stutter for the rest of his life.  What was he going to do if he could never go back to F/X?  What was he going to do if he could never stand on his own two feet before Angie and tell her he loved her in a strong, clear voice?

Rollie wasn’t even aware that his hands had tightened into fists until he felt Angie lay her hands on top of them.  He met her eyes and found them full of strength and support.  Clutching her fingers, Rollie turned his attention back to the doctors.

“How long is my rehabilitation going to take?” he asked again.

“It’s impossible to say,” the neurologist told him.  “It varies from patient to patient.”

“Give me the best and worse case scenarios,” the Aussie insisted.

Ridenhour sighed.  “Well, considering that you also have to deal with the aftereffects of a heart injury, but taking into consideration the fast progress you’ve already made, my personal guess would be a minimum of eight months.”

“Eight months?”  Rollie repeated, appalled.  “And the worst case?”

“You could have lasting effects for years.”

Angie watched Rollie’s face in concern.  She knew that the news had hit him really hard.  She was worried sick over what his reaction would be.

“I’d like to be alone for a while,” the Aussie said in a steady voice.

“Of course,” Ridenhour said.

Mark met Angie’s gaze, and she saw that he was worried, too.

“Rollie, we’ll talk more about what will be involved in your rehabilitation later, all right?” he said.

The Aussie just nodded, not looking at him.

After they’d left, Angie opened her mouth to speak, but didn’t get the chance.

“Please, Angie.  I’d like to be alone.”  His eyes did not meet hers either.  He just kept staring down at the bedcovers.

“Rollie, we need to talk about this.  That was just an educated guess by Doctor Ridenhour.  It doesn’t mean that it will really take that long.”  Nothing but silence answered her.  Hating to leave him alone like that, she got up.  “I’ll be back in an hour, okay?”  She got a faint nod from Rollie.

Angie left the room, looking back at her friend once before shutting the door.  She stood outside his room, not knowing what to do, wishing that there was something she could say to bring him comfort.

She had been standing there perhaps two or three minutes when she heard a loud noise, like several objects had just hit the floor with great force.  Angie jumped at the sound, tears instantly coming to her eyes.  She wanted to rush right in and take him into her arms, but she had a feeling that Rollie would not welcome her sympathy.  A thought came to Angie.  Maybe there was something else that would help.

Angie waited a few minutes so that Rollie wouldn’t suspect she’d been standing outside the door, then casually walked in, ignoring the water pitcher and cup that now littered the floor, their content splattered across the linoleum.

“I thought you were coming back in an hour,” Rollie said dully, his face turned away from her.

“I forgot something,” Angie told him.  She opened the little drawer beneath the table.  She started pulling things out and laying them on Rollie’s lap.  “Linda and her son visited a while back and brought some letters from the ladies in the class.  I thought you might want to read them.  On Christmas Day, Frank and Sarah brought the girls over.  They had presents for us, and I figured you might like to see them.  There’s also a card from everyone at the precinct.”

Angie finished setting the things on Rollie’s lap, then left, again saying that she’d be back in an hour.  The Aussie stared down at the stuff for a few seconds.  The first thing he picked up was the pile of letters from the women at the center, surprised that they would write something to him.  The surprise turned to amazement as he read the letters.  Every one of them held heartfelt wishes for his recovery and words about how nice they thought he was.  The letter from Teresa was especially emotional.

Next, Rollie looked at the card from the people at Midtown South.  Some of the messages made him smile while others touched him deeply.  Even VanDuran had written a message.

Rollie then looked down at the gifts.  He started with one from Bethany to Angie.  His fingers still not wanting to work right, it took a while for him to get the box open, but the effort was worth it when he saw Garfield sitting at a computer.  Angie must have loved this one.  He next opened Jessica’s present to her, smiling to see yet another cat.  The smile grew to a grin when he saw Natalie’s present to Angie.  He wished that he could have seen the look on Angie’s face when she saw the picture.

At last, Rollie turned his attention to the gifts to him.  A grin of delight lit his face when he saw the toy badge that little Bethany had given him.  His eyebrows rose in surprise when he studied the figurine from Jessica, noticing that the cat being licked by the dog looked exactly like the cat she had given to Angie.  Wondering what had been going though the little girl’s mind when she bought the gifts, Rollie opened the last present.  His throat grew tight as he read Natalie’s words, feeling an ache in his heart over the love that was in them.  He read the letter over and over again as the last traces of anger and bitterness drained away.  The thought of all the people out there who cared about him made him feel stronger.

Angie was later getting back to the hospital than she had thought she would be.  She had gone to the loft to get something, and it had taken longer than expected.  All during the time she was there, she had been worried about Rollie, hoping that the gifts and letters had made him feel better.  As she went to his room, she was still worried--until she walked in the door.  The Aussie met her gaze with a soft smile.

“Hi.  You’re late,” he said.

Angie smiled back at him.  “Yeah.  Well, it took me longer to print out all this e-mail than I thought it would.”

“What e-mail?”  Rollie looked at the box she was carrying.  “What’s that?”

“This is a box full of all the letters and Get Well cards that came for you, plus over two hundred printouts of e-mail letters from well-wishers.  What isn’t here are the several dozen phone messages that came in.”  She sat the box on his lap and opened it.

Rollie stared at the mail, his mouth hanging open.  “This is all for me?”

“It sure is.  I pulled out all the bills and junk mail.  I figured that you wouldn’t really want to see those right now.”  Angie smiled again.  “So, do you want to start reading them now or wait till later?”  The Aussie’s smile answered her question.  “Okay, then how about if we start with this one?  It’s from Luce.  She sent it a few days after you were shot.  Would you like me to read it?”

Rollie nodded.
 

Dear Rollie,

I found out what happened this morning.  I wish so much that I could be there with you, but the director and the producer of this movie won’t let me take any time off.  I’ll be thinking about you every day and praying that you will be all right.  You and Angie are the best friends I’ve ever had.  I owe you my life and so much more.  It means so very much to me to have friends like you whom I know I can count on.  You were always there when I needed you, and I want you to know that I’m here for you if you need me.

You have to get well, Rollie, because there aren’t enough good people like you around.  The world will be a darker place if you leave it.  There are so many people out here who love you and would feel an empty place in their hearts if you were gone.  So you get well, you hear me?

I will watch every day for news of you, and I’ll come visit you as soon as I can.

All my love,

Lucinda

Rollie sat silently, touched by Lucinda’s words.  She was a good friend, and he missed her.  He remembered how attracted to her he’d been when they first met.  That attraction had quickly changed to a strong friendship.  Now that Luce lived in L.A., they didn’t see each other nearly as much as they used to, and he had to admit that he missed having the enthusiastic, delightfully ambitious, impulsive, sometimes senseless, occasionally aggravating, but always feisty and quick-to-smile woman around.  He wondered what Luce would say if he told her that he was in love with Angie.  ‘She’d probably immediately blab it to every human being on the planet,’ he answered silently.

“She sent another e-mail about a week ago,” Angie told him.  She read it next.  The second letter was happy and vibrant, Lucinda having found out that Rollie was going to live and was coming out of the coma.  Angie then moved on to other letters and cards.  Rollie listened in silence, a smile coming often to his face.  Angie knew that this was doing him a lot of good.  He needed to hear how people cared about him and know that, no matter what the future brought, that would never change.

A couple of hours into the reading, Angie was interrupted by Doctor Langford, who had come to explain Rollie’s rehabilitation to him.  The doctor ran through the program of physical and speech therapy, letting him know that, because of the damage to his heart, it would be a while before the really strenuous therapy would begin.  Until then, his therapy would be conducted there in his room and in the pool where the buoyancy of the water would reduce the level of physical exertion.  A speech-language pathologist, SLP, would be coming in that afternoon for an evaluation and to determine the best course of treatment.

“There’s something I really want to know,” Rollie said after the doctor was finished.

“What’s that?”

“When am I going to get this bloody feeding tube out of my stomach?”

A grin came to Mark’s lips.  “Would tomorrow be soon enough for you?”

A look of relief came to the Aussie’s face.  “Yes.”

“Tomorrow it is then.  But don’t expect to be put on a solid diet right away.  It’ll be a little while before that happens.”

“Anything is better than this.”

Mark gave a short laugh.  “You won’t think that after you’ve tasted the food.”

“I already have, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.  I forgot for a second that you’re a semi-regular occupant of this hospital.”

“And a few others,” Rollie added.  “Um . . . there’s something else I want to ask about, but . . .” Rollie glanced at Angie, and a faint blush came to his cheeks, “I’ll wait till another time.”

Mark’s smile widened.  “I think I know what you’re going to ask, Rollie, and I afraid that it’s going to be a while longer before we can remove that.  Right now, you don’t have the physical capacity to handle it on your own.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” the Aussie said.

After Mark had left, Angie smiled at Rollie, her eyes twinkling.  “So, what was it that you couldn’t ask while I was around?”  She already knew what it was, but just had to get some teasing in.

“Something private that you don’t really need to hear,” he answered.

“Oh, something private, huh?”  Her smile turned mischievous.  “Rollie, don’t forget that I’ve been here for the past three weeks while you were lying there senseless.  I’m pretty familiar with what you’ve been hooked up to and what tubes they have where.”

Rollie’s blush deepened.  His eyes were staring intently down at his hands, and Angie realized that he was actually upset.  Suddenly sorry that she had teased him, she gave his hand a squeeze.  “Don’t worry, Rol.  I always left the room when they took care of the private stuff.”

She saw the Aussie relax in relief.

“And I expect you to be as much of a gentleman as I was a lady if our situation is ever reversed,” Angie added.

Rollie’s eyes rose to hers.  “I don’t ever want our situation to be reversed,” he said, his voice shockingly intense.

The smile left Angie’s face.  She wanted to tell him that she would rather be the one lying there than him, but she didn’t.  Instead, she gave his hand another squeeze, hoping he knew that was how she felt.

The SLP who came in that afternoon was very positive about Rollie’s recovery, certain that, in time, he would regain full control of his voice and language skills.

That night, after Angie had left, Rollie lay in his bed looking at the photo of him and Angie.  Though he still had no clear memories of what had happened over the last three weeks, there was one thing that he did remember.  Amidst the huge, silent darkness that had surrounded him, where he’d had no sense of self, where the world beyond seemed nothing but a distant dream, there had been Angie.  Always, she seemed to be there, talking to him, touching him.  He could not really remember her words.  It was more just the sound of her voice and the feel of her presence.

That feeling of her presence was still with him whenever she was near.  Somehow, he always knew, even before the door to his room opened, that she was there.  It had never been like that between them before, and he wondered what had happened to change things.

There was one other person whose presence Rollie sensed whenever he was near, and that was Mangela.  It had been far stronger when Rollie was a child growing up with the People.  Later, it had grown more tenuous as he distanced himself from his old life.  What he was experiencing with Angie was equally as strong, if not stronger, than what he had ever felt with Mangela.

‘I wish you were here so I could ask you what this mean, Mangela,’ Rollie silently told his spiritual father.  ‘But then, you probably wouldn’t give me a straight answer anyway.’

Thinking about Mangela made Rollie’s thoughts turn to Dingo.  Angie had said nothing about his father coming to visit, which meant that Dingo probably didn’t even know what had happened.  Even as unreliable as his father was when it came to visiting, Rollie still couldn’t believe that Dingo wouldn’t come to see him if he knew about the shooting.  The way that Dingo wandered about, it could be months before he found out that his son had been shot, if he ever did.  Rollie tried not to be bitter about it.  He had accepted Dingo’s failings as a father a very long time ago.

Rollie set the picture on the table and turned off the light.  Another day was over, a day bringing him that much closer to the day he would walk out of this place and get back to his life, whatever that life would be like.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT -- RECOVERY

The next morning, the feeding tube was removed, and Rollie got his first taste of food in three weeks.  He was so happy that even the hospital food tasted good.  A little while later, the SLP came to start Rollie’s speech therapy.  By the end of the session, the Aussie was feeling a little frustrated, but the woman assured him that he’d done very well.

During Rollie’s speech therapy, Angie went to take care of some stuff in town, but returned in time accompany him on his first trip to the physical therapy pool.  On the way over, the Aussie was busy chatting with her when he saw anger abruptly flash across her face.  Puzzled, he followed her gaze to a short, stocky nurse who was coming down the hall toward them.  The nurse was reading a chart and didn’t see them.  At that moment, she glanced up.  She came to an abrupt halt.  Rollie saw anger on her face as well.  The woman’s eyes went to him, and the anger turned to shock.  Rollie looked back up at Angie to see that her expression had changed to one of smug satisfaction.  They drew up beside the nurse, and Angie stopped.

“So, Nurse Graves, as you can see, you were wrong,” Angie said.  “Maybe now you’ll stop writing people off before they’re dead.”  Without another word, she continued down the corridor, the man pushing Rollie’s wheelchair having to hurry to catch up with her.

“What was that all about?” the Aussie asked her.

“Nothing,” Angie replied.

“It didn’t sound like nothing to me.”

Angie slowed her pace. She glanced down at him.  “The evening after you were shot, that nurse came in to check on you, and while she was there, she basically told me that I should just accept the fact that you were going to die and get on with my life.”  Her anger returned as she remembered the woman’s words and callous attitude.

Rollie took hold of her hand.  “Well, she was wrong.  That’s what matters.”

Angie smiled down at him.  “Yeah, it is.”

At the pool, Rollie was carried into the water by Bruce, his physical therapist.

“Come on in, Ange.  The water’s fine,” Rollie said.

“Gee, Rol, I’d love to, but I forgot my bathing suit.”

Angie watched as Rollie went through his therapy, which, this time, mainly consisted of him moving his arms and legs around.  She could tell that the Aussie was frustrated with the difficulty he had in getting his body to do what he wanted it to, but he never said anything.  He just kept trying.  It did not take long before he grew fatigued, and Bruce called a halt.

Back in his room, Angie studied Rollie’s expression, trying to gauge his mood.  He was acting cheerful, but there was a false note to the cheerfulness.

“You okay, Rol?” she asked.

“Yep, I’m fine, though I am pretty beat.  I think I’ll get a little sleep.”

“Sure.  I’ll come back in a couple of hours, all right?”

“Okay.”

Rollie stared at the door for a few minutes after Angie had left, dropping the act he had been putting on for her sake.  He laid his head back on the pillow and closed his eyes.  It had not been easy needing someone to dress him in his swimming trunks, then back into his hospital clothes like he was a baby.  He didn’t know which was worse, that or the fact that it was so hard to control his body and that he’d grown exhausted so quickly.  Doctor Langford had said that his strength and stamina would return, as would his motor skills and muscle control, but it was so frustrating to feel this helpless.  He kept reminding himself that this was only the beginning, that things would get better in time, but the thought that he had months of rehabilitation ahead of him made things even worse.

‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Tyler,’ he chastised. ‘That isn’t your style, and it isn’t going to help you or anyone else.’

As Rollie lay in the quiet room, other thoughts came to him.  His memories of the events before he was shot had continued to improve.  He now remembered almost all of it.  Most of all, he remembered what he had done to the man who came to kill Angie.  There had been other times when something he did while helping the police resulted in the death of a criminal, but it had always been unintentional.  Even Luther Cale’s death had been an accident.  But, this time, when he maneuvered the killer underneath that pallet of bricks, he had made a conscious decision to kill someone.  He kept wondering if there was something else he could have done instead, but the truth was that there wasn’t.  The man had a gun, and all of Rollie’s skills in F/X had been useless against that.  He and Angie had been out in the open, weaponless, and there wasn’t going to be a last minute save by somebody else.  In the end, it had come down to kill or be killed.  Yet, even though he kept telling himself that and knew it to be the truth, the thought of what he’d done still bothered him.  He was glad that he hadn’t actually seen the man’s death.  It was bad enough just knowing what happened.

Rollie sighed and tried to shove his thoughts away.  He had to focus on getting well.  Several minutes later, he slipped into sleep.

The days passed.  Rollie’s sessions in the physical therapy pool grew more intensive as they saw an improvement in his physical condition and muscle control.  He finally reached the point where he could stand unsupported in the water when his body was almost completely submerged and could take small, slow steps forward.

“Well, I think we can start working on getting you walking out of the pool, Rollie,” Bruce said.

The Aussie smiled happily.  “That’s what I’ve been waiting to hear.”

The following morning, he was taken to a large room where several patients were undergoing therapy.  Bruce parked the Aussie’s wheelchair beside a set of bars that looked a lot like the parallel bars that gymnasts used.  “Okay, Rollie.  We’re going to see if we can get you on your feet,” he said.  “We’re going to take it nice and slow, though, and you tell me if you start to get dizzy, have any shortness of breath, or feel like you’re going to pass out.”  He put his arm under Rollie’s shoulders and slowly lifted him up.  The Aussie tried to carry his weight on his legs, but couldn’t.  Without the buoyancy of the water, gravity kept dragging him down, making it impossible for his weakened body to support itself.  It was necessary for Bruce to support his full weight.

“Take hold of that bar, Rollie.  Use it to steady yourself.”  The Aussie did as he was told.  “All right, I want you to move your right leg forward.”

Rollie looked down at his leg and tried to move it as he had in the pool, but it seemed ten times harder here.  After a few seconds of no success, he began to grow angry.  ‘Come on, damn you!  Move!’  As if hearing his silent shout, his foot slid forward about an inch.  Concentrating even harder, Rollie managed to get it to move a few more inches.

“Good!  That was very good, Rollie.  Now the other foot.”

Rollie succeeded in getting the other foot to move about the same distance.  Bruce then had him go back to the right foot.  With agonizing slowness, the Aussie managed to travel a few feet.  By then, he was drenched in sweat and was panting.  He was also beginning to feel dizzy and light-headed.

“Okay, that’s enough for today,” Bruce said.  “Angie, could you get the chair?”

Angie wheeled the chair up behind Rollie, and Bruce lowered him into it.  The Aussie was taken back to his room.  He’d remained silent throughout the trip back, depression crashing down on him like a thousand-pound weight.  He had not expected it to be that bad, and all his fears and dejection about the possibility of being permanently impaired were returning full force.

“You did well, Rollie,” Angie said, smiling at him, though he could see the pain in her eyes.

“Yeah, right.  A one-year-old could do better,” he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.  He had not intended to say anything, but, this time, he just couldn’t hide what he was feeling.

“A one-year-old wouldn’t be recovering from a gunshot wound to the heart and brain damage from loss of blood.  You have to give it time,” Angie told him.

“Time?  How much time, Angie?  A year?  Two years?  What if I’m never back to normal?  What if I’m going to have to be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life?  I can’t do my job like that.  I can’t expect you to do all the things for me that I won’t be able to do anymore.  I could never expect you to. . . .”  ‘love me,’ he finished silently.

“Stop it!” Angie cried.  She was breathing hard, angry tears in her eyes.  “Don’t you dare do this!  You have never felt sorry for yourself in your entire life, and I am not going to let you now.  You are going to get better.  Yes, it might take a long time, but we have that time, Rollie, you and me.  You came so close to not having any more time.  You should be happy for every second that you’re alive.”

“I am, Angie.  I know how close I came, and I am happy to be alive.  I just don’t want you to be burdened with an invalid.  I want you to have a life again that isn’t all spent on me.”

Angie grabbed his face between her hands and held it with almost painful force.  “You listen to me, Rollie Tyler.  The day that you become a burden to me is the day that the sun falls out of the sky.  Don’t try pulling that noble, self-sacrificing crap on me, because I won’t have it.  This is my life, and how I choose to spend it is up to me.  I wouldn’t even have a life if it wasn’t for you.”  She released him and stepped back.  “You have never given up on anything, Rollie, and you’re not going to start now.  I won’t let you.”  She turned on her heels and stormed out the door.

The Aussie stared at the door, his mouth hanging open.  He had never seen Angie so furious.  He couldn’t believe how angry she’d gotten.  He didn’t ever want her to be that mad at him again--even though she had looked spectacularly beautiful.

Rollie lowered the bed to an almost level position and stared up at the ceiling.  Angie was right.  He had fallen victim to self-pity again, a self-pity compounded by the sorrow of what never being completely well again would mean for his life and for Angie’s.  Despite what he had said about not being able to do F/X anymore, the thought that caused the most pain was that he could never ask Angie to be with him like he wanted her to if he was going to be stuck in a wheelchair or using a walker for the rest of his life.  He still felt that way.  He wanted to be back to the way he was before he got shot, and until he was, he would not, could not, even consider telling Angie how he felt about her.  His pride would settle for nothing less.  And there was also another reason.  When he told her, he did not want her to say something she didn’t mean because she didn’t want to hurt his feelings.  He was not going to have her mind swayed by his physical condition.  He wanted to be certain that what she told him was the complete truth.

Lying in bed, Rollie made an oath that he was going to put every ounce of strength and determination he had into getting better--for himself and for Angie.

Rollie threw himself into his therapy with a vengeance, pushing himself so hard that Bruce had to tell him to take it easy.  The Aussie’s efforts were greatly rewarded as each day saw an improvement in his strength, stamina, muscle control, and motor skills.  The same improvement could be seen in his speech.  The broken sentences, stuttering, and slurring gradually disappeared through the intensive speech therapy he received every day.

According to Mark Langford, the speed at which Rollie was progressing in his rehabilitation was nothing short of miraculous.  Every time he did, the Aussie replied that he wouldn’t have come that far if it wasn’t for Angie.  She was always there during his therapy, no matter what time it was scheduled, never failing to give him the encouragement and support he needed.  He had told her once that she didn’t have to come every time.  She had just looked at him with that stubborn expression and said, “You just try to keep me away, Mister Tyler.”  He did not repeat it a second time.  He may have had some of his brain cells scrambled, but he was no dummy.

Despite his progress and Angie’s encouragement, Rollie still suffered from bouts of depression whenever he failed to meet a goal that he had set for himself.  He kept his feelings hidden from Angie, not wanting to upset her or bring her wrath back down upon him.

After one particularly bad day in therapy, he found himself again thinking that he was never going to be the way he was before.  As always, he never let a hint of what he was thinking slip.  As Angie pulled the blanket up around his waist he smiled at her and thanked her.

“I have to run some errands, Rol,” she told him.  “I’ll be back in a while, okay?”

“Sure.”  Rollie paused.  “Ange, it really isn’t necessary for you to spend so much time here.  I know that you must have a lot to do, and I’m all right alone.”  Which wasn’t really true since every time he was alone, the boredom came crashing down on him, and his inability to get up out of bed and go do things became even more unbearable.  He had always been a very active person, forever doing something, working on something, and the fact that he couldn’t now was driving him insane.

“Rollie, I like spending time here with you.  Besides, over the years, I’ve grown so accustomed to spending the better part of my days and nights in your company that anything else would seem strange.”

“Well, maybe that should change,” Rollie murmured, then wished he hadn’t.  He had not intended to say that.  It had just slipped out.  Not looking at Angie, he stared down at the bedcovers.

Angie put a finger under his chin and lifted his head until his eyes met hers.  “Why do you say that?”

The Aussie shrugged.  “I just. . . .  Never mind.  You’ll just get mad at me.”

Angie sat on the edge of the bed and looked into his eyes.  “I won’t get mad.  I promise.”

Rollie sighed.  “I just don’t want you to waste your life taking care of me and babysitting me.  You have a life outside this hospital.  You should go live it.”

A look of pain came into her eyes.  “Is that what you think I’m doing?  Babysitting you?  You think I come here every day out of some feeling of obligation or responsibility?”

“No, it’s not that.  I know you come because you care.  It’s just that I. . . .”

“What?”

“I want you to be happy, Ange, and I know that you can’t be happy spending all your time looking after me.  I’m stuck in this damn hospital, but you’re not.  You need to forget about me and go do things for you.  Please, Angie.  I just want you to go have fun and not be worrying about me all the time.  I want you to stop putting your life on hold for me.”

Tears prickled behind Angie’s eyes, but she held them back.  She took his hand and held it in both of hers.  “Rollie, I come here because I want to, because there isn’t anywhere that I’d rather be.  You have no idea how happy it makes me that I can be here with you, that you’re here for me to--” her voice caught, “to be with.  I don’t want to go out and have fun.  I don’t want to stop spending this time with you.  I am right where I want to be, here with my best friend.”

A glint of tears came to Rollie’s eyes.  Angie leaned over and pulled him close.  The Aussie held onto her tightly, burying his face in the crook of her neck.  “You’re too good for me, Ange.  I don’t deserve you,” he murmured against her.

“Yes you do, Rol,” Angie murmured back.  After a few minutes, she pulled away.  “I need to go now, but I’ll be back as soon as I can, all right?”  Rollie nodded, and she left.  As she walked down the hallway, the tears that she had been holding back started to fall.  It tore her up inside to see him like this.  It wasn’t the Rollie she’d spent her life with.  She knew that he had been feeling depressed from time to time.  He had tried to hide it from her, but she had seen it in his eyes and in the droop of his shoulders.

Angie wished that there was something she could do to make him feel better.  She knew that part of the problem was the fact that he was stuck in that bed unable to do the things that he wanted to.  A long convalescence and rehabilitation period would be hard on anyone, but especially for someone as active as Rollie had been.  If it had been her, she would have been going stark, raving mad by now.  Unfortunately, there was no way that she could smuggle him out of the hospital, and she couldn’t very well bring the entire contents of the loft into his room.  A thought came to her.  But it would be possible to bring a computer.  Though he did not have her level of experience or expertise with computers, he was still far more knowledgeable than most people.  It was he who wrote Bluey’s programming, not her, though she had added a few minor enhancements.  People tended to forget things like that and think that Rollie was a novice with computers, which was far from the truth.  Yes, maybe a computer was what Rollie needed to keep himself occupied and the depression away.

Angie’s thoughts then turned to what Rollie had said about not deserving her.  She didn’t know how he could think that.  Into her mind came the memory of the letter she had written for him the night of their first self-defense practice session.  She also remembered the feeling she’d gotten that night that he would never read it.  That had almost come true.  He had almost died not knowing how much she respected and admired the kind of person he was.  It was time that he did know.

Angie decided that her errands could wait.  There was something far more important that needed doing.

Rollie sat staring out the window, trying to keep himself from screaming out of sheer boredom.  He’d watched so much TV during these weeks in the hospital that the mere thought of turning that box on made him want to throw a bedpan right through the screen. He’d also read and reread every magazine and book Angie, Frank, and Mira had brought him.  The worse time was at night after visiting hours were over when he would lay in the darkness unable to sleep and think about the months of rehabilitation that stretched before him.  He had tried to occupy himself with planning out special effects in his mind or thinking up new gadgets and equipment, but there was just so much that he could do without being able to work on the real thing.

Rollie heard the door open and saw Angie come in.  Despite what he had told her earlier, the sight of her never failed to lift his spirits.

“Hi,” he said softly.  The Aussie noticed that she was carrying a box.  “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, just a few things that I thought might help keep you occupied.”  Angie sat the box down on the floor.  She pulled out her notebook computer and set it on the table beside the bed, then came a portable Jaz drive, several Jaz disks, a dozen or so CD-ROM program discs, and a length of telephone cable.  “I talked to someone in hospital administration, and they gave permission for me to hook the modem up to the phone line here in your room.”

Rollie gaped at the stuff sitting on the table.  A smile spread across his face. “Thank you, Angie.  I don’t know how well I’m going to be able to use this yet since my fingers still don’t do exactly what I want them to, but I’ll sure give it a try.”

Angie smiled back at him, overjoyed by the light that had come into Rollie’s eyes.  “I brought something else, too.”  She dug back into the box and pulled the last item out, watching Rollie’s smile grow even bigger.  “I thought that you might enjoy playing around with some holograms, though you have to promise me that you won’t scare the poor nurses and doctors to death by making an alien monster pop out at them from beneath the bed.”

“Aw.  Not even a little monster?”  He gave her an exaggerated pout.

“Not even a little one.”  Angie reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope.  She stared at it for a moment, then handed it to Rollie.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s a letter.  I wrote it the night that we had our first practice session.  I was going to give it to you on Christmas Eve.”

Rollie studied Angie, noticing the slight nervousness and tension within her.  His eyes went back to the letter, wondering what it said.

“I . . . I’ll come back in a little while,” Angie said.  She was simply too nervous to stay there as Rollie read the letter.

The Aussie nodded and watched her leave.  Slowly, he opened the envelope.  The paper inside looked as if it had been crumpled up, then smoothed back out again.  His heart rate increasing slightly, Rollie began to read.
 

Dear Rollie,

I know that you’re wondering why I’m writing you a letter when I see you almost every day.  I think you know me pretty well, though, and you know that I’m not the kind of person who talks about how much I care about people or about the “mushy” stuff.  But tonight I realized that I have been unfair to you.  I’ve never told you what I think of you as a person, and that isn’t right.  Since it’s still not easy for me to talk about these things, I’ve decided to tell you in a letter.

From the day I met you, I knew that you were special.  I’d never met anyone like you.  I never told you this, but I had a huge crush on you back then.  And don’t you dare make fun of me because of that!  I think the thing that impressed me the most was how smart you were, yet you didn’t seem to know it.  You may not believe it, Rollie, but you really are a genius.  And if you get a swelled head from me telling you that, I will personally take it upon myself to drill a hole in that head and let the air out.

But there’s more to you than your brains.  You have a heart too, and it is such a good one.  You care about people, and you put yourself though so much to help them.  You know that I don’t like how you constantly risk your neck to help the police, but I want to say that I was wrong when I accused you of doing it mainly because you liked the risk.  That is a part of it, but I realize that you also do it because you want to help people.

You have more courage than anyone I’ve ever met.  It never ceases to amaze me.  And you never give up.  No matter how impossible something seems to be, you just keep trying.  I still wish that you wouldn’t keep jumping up to help the cops or the feds every time they call, but I’m learning to live with it.  I guess I’m going to have to since it looks like you’re just going to keep right on doing it no matter what I say.

Though you can drive me absolutely up the wall and you are a real jerk sometimes, you are a fun person to be with most of the time.  I love how you can goof around and make fun of yourself.  I hate guys who are so hung up on their appearance that they would never be caught dead hamming it up like you do.  You’re the kind of person who almost never thinks about how you look or whether or not you’re ‘cool’.  That’s a pretty rare quality in guys these days.

I sometimes wish that you would grow up and act your age, but I guess you wouldn’t be as much fun then, would you.  Actually, I take it back.  Though your tendency to act like a fourteen-year-old with an overdeveloped sense of adventure and an underdeveloped level of common sense can be as irritating as hell, I’d never want to see you lose that part of you that loves to parachute off the top of buildings or play silly tricks on Francis--or dress up in a football uniform just to make me laugh.

I want to thank you for how you’ve been there for me, especially during this time that I’ve needed you the most.  I’m glad that you’re my friend, Rollie, and I wouldn’t trade that friendship for anything in the world.  I want you to know that I will always be here for you whenever you need me.

Love,

Angie

By the time he reached the end of the letter, tears were flowing down Rollie’s cheeks.  His chest felt tight from the emotions that were filling him.  Angie had written this to him.  The fact that it had been written before he was shot made it mean even more to him.  She had never told him these things before, and it was not until this moment that he realized how very much he’d wanted to hear them from her.  Of all the people on Earth, it was her opinion of him that mattered the most.  It was her respect and approval that he most craved.  It was even more important to him than that of his father.

As Rollie put the letter back in the envelope, he noticed a second slip of paper.  Pulling it out, he realized that this letter had been written recently.
 

Dear Rollie,

When you were shot, the odds were so much against you that I think most of the doctors and nurses were certain that you wouldn’t make it.  But you fooled them all.  You showed them how strong you really are.  Again, you refused to give up, even in the face of almost insurmountable odds.

Every day, I watch you struggle through your therapy, and I know how much it must hurt, both physically and emotionally, yet you never complain.  You never stop fighting to get better.  You just keep at it, no matter how hard it gets.

I am so proud of you, Rollie.  Don’t ever forget that.

Rollie put the second letter back in the envelope, his throat aching.  He had to find her right now.  He had to tell her how much these letters meant to him.  Rollie pulled the bedcovers back.  Slowly, he propped himself up and dragged his legs off the bed.  The wheelchair was sitting at the end of the bed.  He was reaching for it when the door opened and Angie came in.

“Rollie, what are you. . . .”  The words died on her lips as Rollie looked up at her, and she saw something infinitely warm and bright fill his eyes.  She recognized it for what it was: love.  What kind of love she did not know, but there could be no doubt that’s what it was.  Without a word, she closed the distance between them.  Rollie instantly pulled her into his arms.  They clung to each other tightly, neither having words to speak.  Seconds, then minutes passed.

It was Rollie who finally pulled slightly away.  He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.  He closed his eyes and rested his brow against hers.  “Thank you, Angie.  You will never know how much those words meant to me.”

Angie lifted her head and looked at him.  “I should have written that letter a long time ago.  I should have told you those things face to face.  I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

“No, Angie.  Please don’t apologize.  You have nothing to apologize for.”  He took her hands.  “Angie, I’ve also never told you what I think of you as a person, at least not in a long, long time, and I. . . .”  His voice drifted off helplessly, not knowing how to put into words what he felt.

“Rollie, you don’t have to say anything.  I know how hard it is, believe me.  Besides, you’ve already told me in so many ways a lot of what you feel.  I don’t need to hear any more.”  Angie got up and went to the computer.  “How about if we get this set up and connected.”

Rollie wanted to say something more, but Angie kept her back turned toward him.  He watched her as she put a splitter on the phone jack and plugged the modem into it, then connected the Jaz drive to the computer.

“I put a lot of the projects that we’ve been working on onto the internal hard drive, and there’s more on these Jaz disks.  You’ll have plenty to keep you busy. This will be a good opportunity to improve your CGI skills.”

“Why should I when I’ve already got the best in the business working with me?” Rollie asked quietly.  He had, of course, always wanted to improve his computer skills, but his need to tell Angie how very much he respected her talent made him say what he did.

Angie paused, a warm glow filling her heart.  Those words, so softly and earnestly spoken, made her want to turn around and kiss him, which was the reason why she had stopped Rollie from saying anything earlier.  She was afraid that with him telling her face to face his thoughts about her she would not be able to prevent herself from blurting out how much she loved him.

“Thank you,” she murmured.  Then she shot him a quick smile.  “However, just because you have the ‘best in the business’ working with you doesn’t mean you can’t learn a thing or two.”

Rollie grinned at her comment.

“Okay, get back in the bed.  You shouldn’t be sitting up like that anyway.”

“Yes, boss,” Rollie said with mock meekness.  With Angie’s help, he put his legs on the bed and leaned back against the pillows.  She then placed the computer on his lap.  The Jaz drive remained on the table, which she moved closer to the bed.  Rollie turned the computer on and watched it boot up.  He noticed Angie glancing at her watch.  “Do you need to go do something?”

“Well, I put off my errands to get this stuff.”

“Why don’t you go now?  I’ll be fine.  I’ve got lots to keep me busy now.  In fact, why don’t you call a friend and go to dinner or something.  You’ve had your dinner here with me every day, and it’s time that you went out instead.  It’s bad enough that I have to suffer the hospital food.  There’s no need for you to.”  He held up his hand when Angie opened her mouth to object.  “Angie, please.  I insist.  It would make me happy.  You do want to make me happy, don’t you?”

Angie sighed heavily.  “That’s not fair, Rol.  How am I supposed to say no when you put it like that?”

The Aussie grinned slyly.  “Why do you think I said it that way?”

Angie punched him lightly in the arm.  “All right, but I’m not going to call someone.  I’ll just get something simple for myself.”  She kissed him on the cheek.  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

As she headed for the door, a spark of mischief lit inside Rollie.  “Hey, Angie?  Did you really have a crush on me when you were a kid?”

Angie froze with her hand on the door handle.  She groaned inwardly. ‘I just knew I was going to regret telling him that.’  Slowly, she turned around to look at him.  Rollie’s face was completely serious, but there was a telltale glint of laughter in his eyes.

“Yes, I did, Rollie.  I had a crush on you.  I was just a dumb kid, a really dumb kid.”

“Aw, Angie.  You weren’t dumb.  You were a smart kid.”  Rollie’s mouth twitched.  “So, was it a really big crush?  Did you dream about marrying me, and having kids, and all that?”

Angie groaned again, this time out loud.  “You’re going to torment me for the rest of my life about this, aren’t you.”

“Of course I am.”  A smile finally popped out on his face.  “So, did your pulse speed up when you saw me?  Did you fantasize about kissing--” The slamming of the door behind Angie silenced him.

With a big grin on his face, Rollie picked up the phone.  First, he dialed Mira’s number, but she wasn’t home.  He then got another number from the operator and dialed it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Joyce.  This is Rollie.  I’m glad I got you home.”

“Rollie.  So nice to hear from you.  How are you feeling?”

“I’m good, getting better every day.  I was wondering if you’re going to be free tonight.”

“I don’t have anything planned.  Why?”

“I’d like you to call Angie and ask her to go to dinner with you.  She’s been doing almost nothing but spend time at this hospital ever since I ended up here, and I want her to go out and have some fun for a change.  I finally managed to get her to agree to have something besides a dinner of hospital food with me, and I think that if you called her, she would go out with you.”

“I’d be happy to call her, Rollie, and it will be nice getting together with her,” Joyce said, a smile in her voice.

“Great.  But, whatever you do, don’t let on that I called you.  I really don’t want a longer stay in this hospital than what I’m already going to have.”

Joyce chuckled.  “It’ll be our little secret, Rollie.”

The Aussie had a satisfied smile on his face as he hung up the phone.  He hoped that Angie had a really good time tonight.

Rollie looked down at the computer.  What should he do first?  Probably something simple to exercise his fingers.  As he had told Angie, he still had a little trouble controlling them, though he was a lot better than he had been at first.

He stared at the screen and thought back to the letter Angie had written and immediately knew what he was going to do first.  Rollie opened up the text editing program and began to type.

Angie smiled as she saw Joyce sitting at the table.  She had been pleasantly surprised when her friend called to ask if she was free for dinner.  It would be nice to just sit and chat with her for a while, though a twinge of guilt over the fact that Rollie would be eating alone in his hospital room tonight did mar her happiness.

The moment she sat down, the talking began, only breaking off to order their meals, then, after the food arrived, to snatch bites off their plates from time to time.  As was only natural, the main topic of discussion was Rollie and how he was doing in therapy.  Joyce was delighted to hear about his progress and promised to come by and visit him soon.

Angie grew serious when Joyce asked how he was doing emotionally.  “He’s good most of the time, but this is really hard on him.  It frustrates him that he can’t move around on his own or do things that most of us take for granted.  Rollie has always been so full of energy.  He’s always on the go or busy working on some project or brainchild of his.  And, now, he’s stuck in that hospital room almost twenty-four hours a day.”

“Has he been getting depressed?” Joyce asked, her voice soft and full of concern.

“Yeah, and that’s not like him.  He’s been doing incredibly well in therapy.  The doctors and therapists are all amazed at the rate of his progress.  But, sometimes, he has a bad day where he just can’t do as much or when he fails in some exercise that he’s given, and that’s when I can see the depression come on.  He never says a word about it, but I can tell.  Today was really bad, the worse day he’s had in quite a while.  He started talking about not wanting me to waste my life on him.  It was horrible hearing him say things like that.  I let him know that he could never be a waste of my time.  I brought him a computer and other things to work on, to keep him busy.  I think he’s going to be all right now.  I hope he is.  It tears me apart to see him so down.  The funny thing is, he insisted that I go out to eat tonight and have a good time.  He wanted me to call a friend for dinner.  I was going to eat alone, but then you called and. . . .”  A sneaking suspicion crept into Angie’s mind.  “Joyce, was this dinner invitation your idea or did Rollie call you?”

Her friend didn’t have to say a word.  The guilt was written all over her face.

“Why that sneak,” Angie growled.  “I should have known that he’d do something like this.  Well, he’ll be hearing about this in the morning.”

“Angie, please don’t.  Rollie only did it because he loves you and wants you to have some fun.  You do know that he loves you, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know,” Angie said, smiling gently.

“But you still don’t know how he loves you.”

“I. . . .”  Angie let out a sigh.  “No.  I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve wanted to ask him and tell him about how I feel, but I always chicken out.  He’s gone through so much lately, and I don’t want to add any new heartache or stress.”

“Angie, why on Earth do you think that telling him you’re in love with him would cause him heartache?”

“Because if he doesn’t feel the same way, he would feel bad that he couldn’t return my feelings.”

Joyce sighed in exasperation.  “How are you ever going to know how he feels if you don’t ask, if you don’t tell him how you feel?”

“I’ll tell him.  When the time is right.  I’m just not ready yet.”

“Don’t forget, Angie, that you came that close,” she held her fingertips about an eighth of an inch apart, “to never having the chance to tell him how you feel.  We so often make the mistake of thinking that we have all the time in the world to tell the people we love how we feel, but, just like that,” she snapped her fingers, “the time can disappear, and we’re left with nothing but the pain and guilt of knowing that our loved one died never having heard the words.”

Angie stared at the tablecloth.  In her heart, she knew that Joyce was right, but the fear of telling Rollie how she felt was still so strong.  It really would be best to wait until after he was out of the hospital, then she could sit down with him and tell him the truth.

The rest of the evening was more subdued, with both Angie and Joyce moving the conversation onto other topics.  It was nearly ten by the time Angie got home.  She checked her e-mail and was surprised to see a message from Rollie.  She sat before the computer and began to read.
 

Dear Angie,

Since you wouldn’t let me say these things to you in person, I decided to take a lesson from you and write you a letter.

You told me that from the moment you met me, you knew I was special.  Well, I knew the same thing when I met you.  You were so full of fire and spunk.  You weren’t afraid of anything and didn’t hesitate to state what was on your mind.  Yet you were so generous and caring, and so very smart.  You were the most amazing little girl I’d ever met.  That didn’t change as you grew older.  You’re still amazing.

I am in awe of your strength and courage, of how, no matter what horrible things happen to you, you don’t let it defeat you.  If your mother was half the woman you are, she must have been an incredible person.  I wish that I’d had the privilege of knowing her.

I watch the magic that you can perform on a computer, and I know that you are far too good to be working with me and this tiny little company, but, at the same time, I don’t ever want you to leave.  Without you, there would be no Tyler F/X.  The truth is that I wouldn’t really want there to be.  I don’t ever want there to come a day when you aren’t a part of my work and my life.

I have to admit that you can drive me up the wall sometimes, too.  Your continual teasing every time I went out on a date or got interested in a woman could be bloody irritating, and so could your wisecracks about how much older I am than you.  I still can’t understand how quick you are to believe in all that alien and ghost stuff, and I probably never will.  But, despite all of that, I wouldn’t change a thing about you.

In these weeks since I was shot, you have been so wonderful.  Every day, you make things better just by being here.  I don’t think I would have made it if it hadn’t been for you.

I know that I can be a jerk sometimes, and I want to thank you for putting up with me.  I am so grateful that you’re my friend.  It’s the most important thing in the world to me.

Love,

Rollie

Angie wiped the tears from her face and put on her coat.  She knew that it was after visiting hours, but, somehow, she had to see Rollie.

At the hospital, Angie walked down the corridor purposefully, hoping that no one would ask what she was doing there.  Fortunately, the section of the hospital that Rollie was in now was far less manned than the ICU was.

She passed a couple of people, but neither of them did more than glance at her.  When she reached Rollie’s room, she checked to see if anyone was watching, then slipped inside.  Rollie was in the bed fast asleep, the computer on his lap.

Trying not to wake him, Angie removed the computer, saved what he had been working on--which appeared to be a holographic image--and turned the computer off.  She then sat on the edge of the bed and just watched him sleep.

She was amazed at how much their relationship had changed since Loubar tried to destroy their lives.  The grief, fear, and pain that they’d gone through had brought them closer together than they’d been since she was a child.  It had opened doorways between them, allowed them to say things that had remained unspoken for far too many years.  Angie knew that they would never be able to completely go back to the way things were before, and she was glad of that.  She liked feeling this close to him, and she liked knowing that he needed her just as much as she needed him.  She had never known how good it could feel to be needed by someone, to know that just her being with him made him feel better.  It was a wonderful feeling.

Angie pulled the covers out from under Rollie’s arms, then tucked them around him.  She then placed a light kiss on his forehead and slipped silently out of the room.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE -- VISITORS

As Angie approached Rollie’s room the following morning, she heard the sound of children laughing and thought that Frank and Sarah must have brought the kids to see him.  But when she opened the door, the sight that greeted her eyes made her mouth drop open, then turn up in a smile.  Two children, a boy and a girl, were playing together, laughing happily.  They then took hold of each other’s hands and ran off--right through the wall.

Just then, Rollie saw her.  A bright smile lit his face.  “Hey, Ange.  See?  No monsters.”  He reached down and switched off the holographic projector.  “You should have seen the look on Nancy's face when she came in a little while ago.”

“I bet it was a sight,” Angie said, picturing the expression Rollie’s SLP must have had.  Putting down the bag she’d brought, Angie walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him.  He returned the hug wordlessly.  She drew slightly away and softly kissed his cheek.  “Thank you,” she whispered.

Rollie gazed into her eyes and nodded, knowing what she was thanking him for.  In that moment, the desire to tell her he loved her was so strong that the words seemed to be burning through his tongue.  His gaze into her eyes deepened and his heart rate increased.  Just three words, that’s all it would take.  But then, the decision he’d made yesterday came back to him.  No, he couldn’t, not yet, not until he was out of this hospital bed, not until he could stand before her without aid and tell her.

Angie’s breath caught in her throat.  For a moment, she saw something in Rollie’s eyes, the same warm light that she’d seen yesterday after Rollie had read her letters.  But then, he drew away and his eyes left hers.

“So, what’s in the bag?” he asked.

Angie hesitated for an instant, then got up and fetched the bag.  Rollie grinned when he saw the contents.  “Hey!  Pajamas!”

“Yeah.  Those hospital things that you’re wearing are pretty dreadful. These don’t really look like pajamas.  They’re more like a thin jogging suit.”

“This is great, Angie.  Thanks.”

“I got three pairs so that you’d have clean ones to wear while the others are being washed.”  She looked at the computer.  “So, besides holograms, what other mischief have you been up to?”

“Well, I’ve started working on a little project, but I’m going to need some stuff from Mira to do it.”

“Mira?  What kind of project is this?” Angie asked, puzzled.

“I want to recreate the face of the guy who shot me.”

“Why?  They already have a sketch of him from my description.  They couldn’t find anything on him.”

“I just think it’s strange that someone who was obviously a pro at what he did, doesn’t have any kind of record or was ever under suspicion for a crime.  I have some ideas, and I want to see if I’m right.”

Angie studied his face, seeing the passion there.  She didn’t know what Rollie hoped to accomplish from this, but what did it matter?  He was getting back to his old self again, and she wasn’t about to try stopping him if this would make him happy.

“Okay.  What do you need from Mira?”

“Well, there’s a forensics program that was created a few years ago that enables someone to recreate what a person looked like from just the skull by using guidelines that were developed on skin and muscle thickness of the human face.  That’s the first thing I need.”

“Yeah, but what good will it do you without pictures of the guy’s head?  You’d need three-dimensional images of it, and from what Mira said, the skull was pretty badly crushed.”  She looked at the expression on the Aussie’s face.  “Don’t tell me.  You want the photos taken at the scene and by the coroner.”

“Actually, I’m hoping for something else.  Do you know if the body has been buried?”

“No, I don’t.  The case hasn’t been closed, and Mira is still hoping to somehow get an I.D. on the guy, so I guess there is a chance that the body is still at the morgue.  Why?”

“Well, for me to do this right, I’m going to need images of all the pieces of the skull without any skin on it so that I can accurately reassemble it.”

“Rollie, are you saying that you want them to strip the skin from the skull?”  She knew that it was an easy enough thing to do.  A little sodium hydroxide would dissolve the flesh right off.  It was often used to clean the flesh from skeletons.  The question was, would Mira be able to get permission to have it done?  She repeated her thoughts to Rollie.

“All she can do is try,” he said.  “If she tells them that this might allow them to get an I.D. on the guy and close the case, she should be able to get permission.  I’ll call and ask her.  If we get a green light, they’ll have to take digital photos of the skull and bone fragments from all angles so I can create a three-dimensional image.”

Rollie called Mira and told her what he wanted to do.  She asked the same question that Angie did and was given the same answer.  She told the Aussie that the body had been buried, but that she’d work on getting it exhumed, though it might take a bit of talking.

Angie stayed for a couple of hours, then went back to the loft to work on a CGI for Double-Edged that she had started before the shooting.  The F/X company that had taken over for them said that they’d be happy to let her finish it and anything else she’d gotten started on.  She told Rollie that she’d be back that afternoon.

Rollie spent the rest of the morning and the early afternoon working on the computer.  The continual typing on the keyboard and using the touch pad was helping tremendously in the coordination of his fingers.

It was shortly after lunch when he heard the door open and saw Doctor Ridenhour come in.

“Hello, Mister Tyler.  You’re looking well.”

“A lot better than when I saw you last,” Rollie responded, a little surprised to see the man.  He had not seen Ridenhour in quite a while.

“So I understand.  I’ve been keeping abreast of your case, and I must say that your progress is extraordinary.  I have never seen anyone come so far so quickly.  I would like to ask you a few questions, if I may.”

“Sure.”

The doctor settled on the chair beside the bed.  “Do you practice meditation, yoga, or other similar disciplines?”

The Aussie let out a laugh.  “No.  I’m not into that kind of stuff.”

“Interesting.  I understand that you spent a great deal of time with the aborigines of Australia when you were a child.”

Rollie frowned.  “Yeah, I did, but what does that have to do with anything?”  He was beginning to feel a little ill at ease.  He also wanted to know how Ridenhour had found out about Rollie’s time with the People.

“Were you told about the incident that happened a few days after you were shot?”

The Aussie shook his head.

“Well, there was a rather unusual change in your EEG.  Since then, I have been keeping a close eye on your case,” the neurologist told him.  “You fascinate me, Mister Tyler.  If you were one of my test subjects, I would have a better explanation for the speed of your recovery, but since you’re not, I’d like to find out what is responsible for it.”

“Test subjects?”

“Yes.  I run a project where people with brain injuries and other traumatic injuries learn to speed healing through the use of certain mental and physical disciplines, such as meditation, that tap into the subconscious mind.  I’ve had good success with it, but nothing on the level that you are displaying.  I would like to run some tests, put you in a deep trance state through the use of hypnosis and measure your brainwave patterns.”

The more Ridenhour talked, the more nervous Rollie got.  This was not something he wanted to delve into.  “I’m sorry, Doctor Ridenhour, but I’ll have to refuse.  I really don’t want to get involved in anything like that.  All I want to do is continue with my rehabilitation and get out of this hospital.”

“Mister Tyler, this could be invaluable research into helping people recover from traumatic injuries to the brain and other parts of the body.”

“Doctor, I’m doing as well as I am because I’m fighting damn hard to get better and because I have people who care about me giving me lots of support.  There’s nothing more to it than that.  However, even if there was something to what you’re suggesting, I doubt that anything you learned from me would be able to help somebody else.”

“Why do you say that?”

Rollie shook his head.  “I’m sorry, but this is very personal and something I’m not willing to talk about.  Thank you for showing such an interest in my case, but I still have to refuse.”

At that moment, he sensed that Angie was near.  His eyes turned to the door.  Ridenhour followed his gaze.  A few seconds later, Angie walked in.  Rollie saw a look of surprise, then extreme curiosity flit across the neurologist’s face as he turned back to the Aussie.

“Thank you for stopping by, Doctor,” Rollie said in a tone of dismissal.

“I really wish you would reconsider, Mister Tyler,” Ridenhour said as he got up.

“I’m afraid that isn’t going to happen.  I’m sorry.”

The man frowned.  “Very well, then.  If you do change your mind, please give me a call.”  He handed the Aussie a business card, then left.  Angie watched him leave.

“He didn’t look very happy.  What was that all about?” she asked.

“He wanted to run some tests to see how my brain ticked, and I said no.”

“Is it something that would have helped you?”

“No, I think that he mainly wanted to do it to help himself.”

“Huh?”

“I just got the feeling that he was a little more interested in furthering his career and satisfying his curiosity than in actually helping other people.  I don’t know.  Maybe I’m misjudging him.”  Rollie pushed the doctor and the reason for his visit out of his mind.  “I want you to take a look at something.”  He picked up the computer and brought up a complex set of schematics.

“What’s this?” Angie asked.

“It’s something that I’ve had banging around inside my head for a long time now, but I never had the time to devote to it.  Do you remember when we sniffed out those Meth labs to catch those drug dealers?”

“How could I forget?”

“Well, this is sort of a variation on that.  It’ll be portable and have a much more sensitive ‘nose’.  It’ll be programmable to detect just about anything from drugs to a particular brand of perfume.”

“What would you use it for?”

“I don’t know.  Something might come up where we could use it.”

“The way our lives are, I don’t doubt it,” Angie commented.

Just then, the phone rang.  Rollie answered it.  It was Francis.

“Hey, Rollie.  How are you?”

“I’m good, as good as I can be stuck in this hospital.  What’s up?”

“Are you up for some company?”

“Sure.  That would be great.”

“That’s good because Sarah and I can’t stand the girls’ begging anymore.  They have been bugging us forever to bring them to see you.”

A smile spread across Rollie’s face.  “I’d love to see the girls.  My physical therapy should be finished by three.  Any time after that is fine.”

“Great.  We’ll see you about 3:30.”

His happiness over seeing the kids made his physical therapy session that afternoon fly by.  Shortly before they were due to arrive, Rollie shooed Angie out of his room so that he could change into the pajamas she had gotten him.  The fact that he could now dress himself was a thing of great delight to him, even if it did take a lot longer than it would an able-bodied person.

“You can come in now,” Rollie called.

Angie entered and looked him over.  “Very nice, Rol.  You might as well be stylish while sitting on your butt in bed.”

“But, of course, my dear.  A gentleman must always look his best,” the Aussie responded in a stuffy English accent.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Frank came in.  He opened the door wider to reveal three little girls whose eyes opened wide with joy when they saw Rollie sitting up in bed smiling at them.

“Uncle Rollie!  Uncle Rollie!” they cried.  They ran across the room and launched themselves onto the bed, their little arms all going around the Aussie at the same time.

“Hey!  There’s my little kookaburras,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

Angie smiled at Rollie’s pet name for the girls.  He’d called them that almost from the first time he met them, saying it was because they were always laughing and giggling.

“We were so worried about you, Uncle Rollie,” Natalie said.  “You were really sick when we came on Christmas.”

“You were sleeping like Sleeping Beauty, but you didn’t wake up when Aunt Angie kissed you,” Jessica told him.

Rollie’s eyebrows rose dramatically.  “Aunt Angie kissed me?”  His gaze went to the blonde.

‘Oh no,’ Angie groaned silently.  ‘This is my worse nightmare coming true.’

“Uh huh.  Right on the mouth.  But it still didn’t work.”

“Really.  Well, I’ll have to hear more about this later.”  The Aussie’s eyes were dancing with merriment, promising decades of torment for Angie.

“Did you like our presents?” Natalie asked.

“Yes, I did, very, very much.  They were some of the best presents I’ve ever gotten.  I’m going to keep them forever.”

The girls beamed at him.

“Are you all better, Uncle Rollie?” Bethany asked.

“No, not yet, but I’m getting better every day, and you visiting me makes me feel even better.”

The children snuggled against him.

While Rollie chatted with Sarah and the girls, Frank went out into the corridor with Angie.

“Rollie’s looking really good, Angie,” the detective commented.  “A lot better than the last time I was here.”

“Yeah, he is.  I brought in a computer and other stuff for him to work on, and it’s really helping.  He’s keeping busy.”

“What do the doctors say about how much longer he’s going to be here?”

“They have no idea.  He’s gone far beyond the point they thought he’d be at this early in his therapy.  All they can say is that it’s going to be a lot sooner than originally believed.”

“I bet that makes Rollie happy.”

“Oh, yeah.  He is getting a major case of cabin fever being stuck in this hospital.”

“Mira told me that Rollie wants to recreate the face of the guy who shot him.  What’s that all about?” Frank asked.

“I’m not sure.  He won’t tell me everything.  Frankly, I don’t care.  I’m just happy to see the old Rollie back.”  Angie’s eyes went to the door of the Aussie’s room.  “I really missed him.”

“So did I, and so did Mira.”  The detective paused.  He looked at her as if he was searching for words.  “Um, how are things with you and Rollie?”

“They’re good, Frank.  Actually, they’re great.  With all that’s happened, we’re closer now than we have been in years.  You know what they say about tragedy.  It can either bring you closer together or tear you apart.  Well, it brought us closer together.”

A happy smile came to Frank’s face.  “That’s great to hear.”

Angie and Francis went back into Rollie’s room.  The Gattis stayed for a couple of hours, the girls firmly planted on the Aussie’s bed the entire time.  Frank and Sarah had to just about drag them out of the room when it came time to leave.  They promised to bring the girls back soon.

After they were gone, the room seemed unnaturally quiet.  It didn’t stay that way for long.

“So, Angie, about that kiss,” Rollie said, his eyes sparkling.

Angie eyebrows lowered threateningly.  “Rollie, I swear that if you tease me about that I will personally sew your lips shut with teeny tiny little stitches and no anesthetic.  Jessica was convinced that you would wake up if I kissed you, and she and Bethany were very unhappy that I wouldn’t try, so I did it just to satisfy them and show them that it wouldn’t work.  End of story.”

“Ah, so I was Sleeping Beauty and you were the handsome prince.  They kind of got things backwards, didn’t they?”

“Since when are you a handsome prince?”

“Angie, you wound me.”

“I will if you don’t leave me alone about this.”

Rollie chuckled.  “Okay, I’ll be nice . . . for now.”  Silently, he was wishing that he’d been awake to enjoy the kiss.

“Gee, thanks, Rol.  That’s big of you,” Angie said sarcastically.

At dinnertime, Rollie convinced Angie to go get a hamburger for dinner rather than something from the hospital cafeteria again.  She got it and ate it in his room while Rollie had his dinner.  Throughout the meal, the Aussie kept glancing at the burger longingly, making Angie feel incredibly guilty.  After about the one hundred and tenth time, Angie sighed loudly.

“Okay, that’s it.  I can’t take this anymore.  Tomorrow I’m going to ask Mark if it would kill you to have something besides hospital food.”

“He’ll probably say that if I even breathe the aroma of non-hospital food too deeply I’ll drop dead.”  He paused.  “It might be worth it.”

After dinner, they talked a while, hopping from subject to subject.  A thought kept coming into Rollie’s mind, something that he had been wanting to ask Angie about for days, but hadn’t had the courage to.

The doctors had told him that he would probably never remember anything of what happened to him, but he had remembered some things.  They had then said that he shouldn’t expect anything more.  But Rollie was still remembering, and some of what he remembered kind of scared him.  He was experiencing memories of the moment he ‘died’.  They were nothing like the descriptions that some had given of their own near death experiences.  There had been no bright tunnel, no visions of departed loved ones.  He had not seen his own body as if floating above it, none of the usual stuff that people described.  What he did remember was feeling himself falling into a well of blackness.  Terrified, he had looked up and seen Angie.  She was crying out in anguish, her voice a terrible thing to hear.  With all his might, he had fought to climb out of that hole, to come back to her.  Then, he had sensed something that terrified him even more.  He had sensed Angie wish to die.  The thought of her dying gave him the strength to call out to her and fight his way back to the surface.  Rollie did not understand how he could have these memories.  His heart and respiration had stopped.  By the definition of many, he had been well and truly dead.

Then there were memories of other things.  He recalled bits and pieces of the doctors working on him in the ER, but nothing was really clear.  His memories of Angie being with him, talking to him, were stronger now, but he could still only recall fragments of what she said, the shadows of the coma’s darkness still hiding things from him.  There was a single, very strong memory, though.  He recalled having the feeling of falling again, then of being brought back up.  Afterwards, he had heard Angie’s voice.  She was crying, praying for him not to die.  Her anguish had torn at him so deeply that things had cleared for a moment.  He had called out to her, begging her not to cry.  He had tried to touch her somehow, to let her know that he wasn’t going to leave her.  After that, there was more darkness and long periods of complete nothingness of which he had no memories at all.  Then came the days when the darkness lightened, when he started to become aware of things that were happening around him.  Those were the days when he was coming out of the coma.

Rollie wanted to tell Angie about the memories, but he didn’t know what she would say.  Would she say that what he remembered was true or that it had never happened?  She was the only one who could confirm or deny these things.  Did he want to know if they were true?  Yes, he did.  He had to know, one way or the other.  In that moment, Rollie made up his mind.

“Angie, there’s something that I have to talk to you about,” he said quietly.

Angie looked at the expression on Rollie’s face and knew this was something serious.  Her heart rate sped up.  Could it be that he was going to say something about them, about the future of their relationship?

“What is it?”

“I’m . . . I’m remembering things, from when I was shot and from the coma.  Angie, I think I remember dying.”

Angie’s face lost color.  “My God.”

“It’s not clear.  It’s mainly feelings, sensations.  I remember coldness, darkness, falling into this black, endless pit.  I remember . . . you.  I heard you crying.  I felt you--” Rollie halted, unable to say what he was going to.  “I also remember things from later on in the hospital, you being with me, talking to me.  I think I remember dying again and being brought back.  You were there, praying that I wouldn’t die.  I can’t remember the whole thing.  It’s like a big jigsaw puzzle with most of the pieces missing, and those that I do have, I’m not sure where they fit.”

Angie sat staring at Rollie, an incredulous look on her features.  “They said the chances were great that you wouldn’t remember anything.”

“Are you saying that what I remember is right?  It really happened?”

Angie’s gaze dropped from his for a moment, then returned.  “Yes,” she said.  “A few hours after you came out of surgery, you went into cardiac arrest again.  Mark brought you back.  Afterwards, I . . . I was so afraid that you were going to die.  I prayed that you wouldn’t.”  She searched the Aussie’s eyes.  “What else do you remember?”

“Not much, really.  I know that you were here with me almost all the time and that there were others who came to visit, too.  I can’t remember any details, and most of what I heard during that time is just a big blur in my head.  Was . . . there something in particular?”

“No, I was just curious about how much you remembered, that’s all.” ‘You coward!  You had your chance and you blew it!’  Angie was furious at herself and more than a little guilty at not being truthful with Rollie.

“Oh.  Well, there really isn’t much more.”  Rollie was feeling more than a little disappointed.  He had hoped, perhaps against hope, that Angie would tell him that she had declared her love for him as he lay in the coma and that she wanted him to know again how she felt.

Angie watched Rollie’s face, wondering if she should tell him about hearing him in her mind.  He had said nothing about talking to her.  Perhaps it had been her imagination after all.  Then there was the dream.  If, somehow, Rollie had shared that dream, would he tell her about it?

Angie stayed until the end of visiting hours.  On the drive home, her mind was full of what Rollie had revealed to her.  What if he remembered more?  What if, someday, he remembered her telling him that she loved him?  Part of her hoped that he didn’t, not wanting him to find out that way, but the other part could not help but think that if he did, it would finally be over and done with, and she wouldn’t have to battle with her fear of telling him anymore.

She knew that, eventually, she would have to tell him, that there would come a time when she would no longer be able to hide it.  Maybe that day would be tomorrow.  Anything was possible.
 

CHAPTER THIRTY -- JEALOUSY

The next day, Angie asked Mark about Rollie being allowed to eat something besides hospital food.  The doctor promised to have the dietitian write up a list of what the Aussie was allowed to eat.  He let her know that hamburgers and pizza would definitely not be on the list.

That afternoon, when Rollie went for his physical therapy, there was someone with Bruce waiting for him.

“Rollie, this is Stacey,” the therapist said.  “Now that you are to the point where you can walk without my support, she will be taking over your therapy.”

The woman shook Rollie’s hand with a warm smile.  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Mister Tyler.  I’ve been watching you for a while now during your therapy, and I’ve been hearing a lot about your extraordinary progress.  I’m glad that I’ll be helping you the rest of the way to complete independence.”

Rollie returned her smile.  “Thanks, Stacey, and please call me Rollie.”  He gestured toward Angie.  “This is Angie.”

Stacey smiled again, nodding at her.  “Hello.  I’ve seen you with Rollie whenever he’s here.  I think it’s great that you do that.  Many relatives don’t have the willingness to be there for the therapy sessions.  It’s often too hard for them to watch.”

“Rollie and I aren’t related.  We’re friends.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  I thought that you were his wife or perhaps his fiancée.”

An odd look came to Rollie’s face for an instant, then it was gone.  “No, Angie and I are friends and coworkers.”

“Oh.”  Stacey smiled brightly.  “Well, that makes it even more admirable that you would be here for him.”  She turned back to the Aussie.  “Well, shall we get started?”

Throughout Rollie’s therapy, Angie watched Stacey.  She was tall, shapely, and very pretty, with long blond hair and blue eyes--and she was making Angie extremely jealous.  The worse part was that she was actually nice and had intelligence.  She was the kind of girl whom Rollie could get seriously interested in.  Angie was heartily wishing that Bruce could have continued the Aussie’s therapy.

“That Stacey seems pretty nice,” Angie commented casually when they were back in Rollie’s room.

“Yeah, she is,” the Aussie agreed with a smile.

Just then, Mark Langford walked in accompanied by a young doctor whom Rollie had never seen before.

“Hello, Rollie, Angie.  This is Doctor Evan Grant.  He’s a medical student who’s considering going into neurology.  I showed him your case history, and he really wanted to meet you.”

Doctor Grant stepped forward and gave Rollie’s hand a hearty shake.  “It’s great to meet you, Mister Tyler.  I’m really interested in your case.”  His eyes went to Angie, and the smile on his face grew even warmer.  “Hi.”  He shook her hand as well, holding it just a little longer than the Aussie thought was necessary.  “Angie, is it?”

Angie smiled and nodded.  “Angie Ramirez.  So, you’re a medical student?”

“Sure am, and I’m at the point where I need to make up my mind what field I’m going to go into.  I’ve always been interested in the workings of the human brain, so I’m thinking that neurology is the way for me to go.”

Rollie studied the young doctor.  Tall and well-muscled with red hair and hazel eyes, he had the kind of looks that made women go gaga.  The Aussie decided that he did not like the way that Doctor Grant was looking at Angie one little bit.

The doctor finally turned back to Rollie and began asking him some questions.  Rollie put a rein on his jealousy and answered them as best as he could.  He was very happy when Evan Grant and Mark turned to leave.  The happiness was short-lived, though, when the medical student said that he would be continuing his interest in Rollie’s case and would see him again soon.

“Well, he seems nice,” Angie said.

“Yeah, real nice,” Rollie muttered.

That evening, neither Rollie nor Angie talked much, despite the fact that the Aussie was eating something that hadn’t come from the hospital kitchen for the first time in what seemed like a hundred years.  He kept thinking about the handsome Doctor Grant and how he and Angie had smiled at each other.  Intelligent, good-looking, with a promising career ahead of him, he was the kind of guy whom Angie could really get interested in.  Rollie just hoped that he would turn out to be a jerk.

Such was not the case.  Over the next couple of days, Doctor Grant came by several times to say hi to Rollie and Angie and to talk to Rollie about his case.  He turned out to be warm, funny, and not stuck on himself.  He also loved rock climbing and had minored in computer science in college.  Evan and Angie were getting along terrifically.  Occasionally, the young doctor caught Angie outside Rollie’s room, and the Aussie would listen to them as they talked and laughed.  Every time Rollie saw or heard them together, he felt a deep, aching pain inside his heart.  How could he possibly compete with someone like Evan Grant?  The guy was perfect for Angie.  They shared a lot of interests, and Evan was the same age as she was.

Instead of adversely affecting his therapy, Rollie’s gloom over Evan Grant made him push himself even harder.  He was determined that if the young doctor was going to steal Angie away from him, it wouldn’t be while the Aussie was lying in a hospital bed.

Angie watched Rollie as he struggled through his therapy.  They hadn’t been talking nearly as much these last few days as they were before.  Though he still always greeted her with a smile whenever she came to visit him, the Aussie often seemed distracted, and she had caught an almost melancholy expression on his face every once in a while.

Just about the only time that Rollie seemed to be totally focused on what he was doing was during his therapy sessions.  He was getting along very well with his new therapist.  Stacey was a very likeable girl who seemed to share a lot of the same interests as he did.  Angie’s jealousy over her grew every time she saw them together.  It was obvious that the woman liked the Aussie a great deal.  Whether or not he liked her in the same way was something that Angie couldn’t tell, which was strange since she could usually tell when Rollie was interested in a woman.  Maybe her jealousy was blinding her to it.

There was one other time that Rollie seemed to be completely focused on what he was doing, and that was when he was working on his computer project.  Mira had gotten the okay to get Rollie what he needed.  Dozens of pictures had been taken of the killer’s skull, and the Aussie had devoted himself to recreating what the man had looked like.  Angie had given him some pointers on how to do things, but she mostly let him work on his own.  She realized that Rollie needed to do this for himself.

Finally, the day came that Rollie looked at his work and decided that it was finished.  It had taken him a lot longer than Angie could have done it, and the results weren’t as smooth as hers would have been, but it was good enough.

Rollie studied the face of the man who had nearly cost him his life.  Just then, Angie walked in.  She looked at the digital image and frowned.  “But, he looks different.  That isn’t the same man we saw at the warehouse.  There are similarities in the jaw line and the eyes, but this man’s face is thinner and his nose is smaller.  He also looks a little younger.  What’s the accuracy level on this software?”

“It’s pretty high, actually.”

“Then why. . . .”  She looked at Rollie, who was smiling.  “Oh!  A mask.  He was wearing a mask.”

“No, not a mask, but he did have some latex on his cheeks and nose, just enough to alter his appearance so that, if anyone saw him, the description they gave would be wrong.”

“But how did you know?  And why didn’t the coroner discover this?”

“Well, as for the coroner, they didn’t really have a reason to examine the man’s head that closely.  It was pretty obvious that his brains were scrambled eggs, and the mess that was made of his face hid the existence of the latex.  As for how I knew, well, I didn’t really know for sure.  It was just a suspicion.  It was probably our experience with Loubar that made me think of it.”

“What now?” Angie asked.  “Give this to Mira?”

The Aussie nodded.  “Hopefully, they’ll come up with something this time.”

Mira sent out copies of the digital rendering to anyone who might have information.  She hoped that they would hear something within a few days.  In the meantime, Rollie worked on other computer projects and continued his physical therapy, pushing himself to the point where Stacey had to call a halt on more than one occasion.

One morning, Rollie was sitting before the window in the wheelchair, when he felt Angie approaching the room.  Then he heard the voice of Doctor Grant just outside his door.

“Hi, Angie.  How are you today?”

“I’m great.  What about you?”

“Overworked as usual.  The curse of being a medical student.  Um . . . I’m going to be off tonight, and I was wondering if you’d like to go out for dinner.  I know it’s short notice, but my schedule suddenly changed.”

Rollie did not hear Angie’s reply.  They had apparently moved away from the door.  Actually feeling physically ill, Rollie waited for Angie to come in.  It seemed to take forever.  When she finally did, there was a big smile on her face.

“Hi, Rol.”

“Hi.  How are you?”  It was a struggle to keep all trace of his emotions out