Hunger gnawed at him around eleven, and he remembered he had not eaten since dinner the night before. The nurse's aid, Moira, peeked in to say she was going off duty and urged him to grab a bite.
"She'll likely sleep another hour or two. Now would be your best bet." It was another twenty minutes before he forced himself to take her advice. He whisked the wilting roses into the waste can and counted himself stupid not to have thought to put them in water. He would replace them and add a few daisies to the bunch. That might cheer her a little.
Rounding the foot of her bed, he smoothed a wrinkle out of her blanket and brushed past the curtain that partitioned the room. He intended only to nod a peremptory greeting to the silent roommate, but his eyes were unconsciously drawn to her. The shock of seeing her halted him abruptly, and he had to clutch at the curtain for stability.
She had the same coloring and was about the same size as Trissa, though the fetal curl of her position made her seem much smaller. Brittle shocks of hair bristled out from beneath the bandages that encircled her skull, and tubes invaded her chafed nose and her dry, cracked lips. She struggled to breathe, and her eyes were open but unseeing through stubby, crusted lashes.
Nicholas' own chest heaving with the effort to contain his emotions as he shifted his eyes from one bed to the other, flashing images of what might have been or what could yet be for Trissa if -- Oh, God, if -- He felt his rage rising and he had to get away from there.
He fled down the hall to the service elevator, smashing his fist again and again against the call button until the doors finally slid open for him. He pushed the safety gate aside and entered. Down into the bowels of the hospital and out into the dimly lit subbasement, he followed the glowing, red exit signs, twisting and turning through the maze of pillars and corners, possibly searching for the pathway to hell. He plunged at last through a door to the outside. Sunlight splashed down the concrete retaining wall opposite him, dazing him, and the pungent odor of the overflowing garbage bins made his stomach churn in protest as he gulped in air.
He picked up a cardboard box full of jars and bottles and flung it furiously against the wall, relishing the shatter of its contents in glistening shards, wishing it were Trissa's father he could so easily smash. Or his own. Or fate. Or memory.
It was this Nicholas that so frightened Janey and Beth, this dark, mad Nicholas, driven by his rages, black in his fury, cutting a swath of insanity. Pure insanity. Not magic. No magic at all, Doreen, just insanity, nothing more.
He spent his wrath on more boxes and bags until he was knee deep in his debris and his lungs ached with the effort. Cupping his hands over his mouth and nose, he inhaled until his breathing had reached its normal rhythm, until the veil of red lifted from his eyes and he was almost Nicholas again.
He kicked aside the rubble to make a clear patch of pavement, and he sank to the ground, wedged between the wall and the garbage bin. In just a moment it would be over, a cigarette or two, a soaking in the sunshine, rationality restored by the clear light of day, darkness conquered as it always was by the dawn.
He would rest awhile, then eat, and be back with Trissa before she awoke. It would be different this time. He had saved her and for once he had found someone who needed him as much as he needed her. Almost as much.
Fool that he was, reckless dreamer that he was, he believed he could ration these episodes of craziness. He had to. He could not have Trissa if he were hopelessly and irreparably insane. And he had to have her. Hadn't he promised her he would not let go?
"Brewer? Brewer, is that you?"
Christ, it was Edmonds. And here he was, crouched in the garbage, rumpled and unkempt, looking nearly as wild as he must have last night.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Nicholas hauled himself to his feet, making a concentrated effort not to limp as he came out from behind the bin. He dropped his cigarette and ground it out under his