Doug and Paige

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Doug sat staring through his laptop, not really seeing the screen. He had been dozing slightly off and on, but was still existing mainly on massive quantities of Mountain Dew. Suddenly, the door opened and a tired-looking Angelo came out. Shaking Doug's shoulder, Angelo said, "Doug. *Doug*. Listen. She's awake." Doug dropped his sandwich plate from nerveless fingers and flew through the door, stopping just inside the door, looking at an awake Paige like he was afraid she was just a dream and that any minute he was going to wake up.

“Well, howdy chickpea. Do come in.” She had sat up, a blanket around her shoulders, and was smiling at him pleasantly. “I know I haven’t had a real shower in a couple of days, but the smell isn’t that bad.”

Doug stepped hesitantly toward the bed, still afraid that he was going to wake up in the chair outside the Medlab. "Paige? I..." A hand came up to his mouth, trying to stifle a sob as a lone tear slipped from his eye.

Looking suddenly very concerned, Paiged reached out a hand to him. “Hey hey, Doug. Don’t cry, I’m okay. A little bruised, but no worse for wear. You didn’t think I’d off that easy, did you?”

Doug grabbed convulsively at Paige's hand and held on for dear life as he sank to his knees by the bed, tears streaming unchecked down his face. "I was so scared..."

With soft, comforting noises, Paige squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. I never meant to frighten you. Probably should have warned you that us Guthries have this thing about staying alive.”

Doug continued to cry, his hand wrapped around Paige's. "No, it's not your fault. I just...with Jamie, and now you...and you were out for so much longer than Jamie..." Using his free hand, he dashed angrily at his tearful face. "I'm sorry. I'm such a wreck. I can't stop crying..."

“I know, chickpea, I know.” Pulling the corner of her sheets free she wiped his cheeks dry with a soft hand. “Why do I get this sneaky suspicion that you’ve not been sleeping either?”

Doug looked faintly guilty. "Because you know me too well?" He looked off into some indeterminate distance. "It's just...every time I close my eyes I'm back in that shelter, and the prof is on the radio. Sometimes it's about Jamie, sometimes it's about you. But it's always a lot worse. It's...permanent." He closes his eyes, a haunted expression on his face.

Paige nodded, understanding completely. She still remembers the three rings of the telephone call that day. “I’m not going to say that everything will always be okay, Doug. It won’t. Not only because of who we are but because life is just like that. You learn to accept it, to live with it.” She paused to give him a look; much like the one she had given Angelo only moments earlier. “Learning that is a whole lot easier if you sleep, however.”

Doug rubbed a hand through his somewhat greasy hair and through the stubble of a couple day's growth. "I just...needed to be here when you woke up. It was like I needed to be here to make sure you _did_ wake up."

“All right, all right. The point is, I’m fine. Dr. McCoy, if he ever stops pacing the hallway and comes in, can tell you so himself. You are not fine. You are exhausted and making yourself sick. Therefore, you are marching straight up to bed. Straight up as in now.”

Doug's shoulders slumped and he nodded. A dozen different impulses whirled around his head, but he finally settled for carefully hugging Paige. "I'm glad you're okay," he whispered huskily. Then he walked out, grabbing his computer on the way back to his room.