Sully paused in the doorway to Michaela's room and watched Colleen busying herself—or maybe a better word would be 'fussing,' he thought fondly—around her mother's bed.  One moment she was fluffing Michaela's pillows, the next she was tucking the blankets more snugly around her mother's sleeping form.

     It moved Sully to watch Colleen give her mother such tender care.  He had always been proud of Colleen's innate nurturing quality, having witnessed it many times:  with the townspeople during the influenza epidemic; with himself when he was half-paralyzed by Rankin's beating and later when he was shot in the back trying to stop the Indian attack at the railroad; with Brian when he fell from the tree and sustained his brain injury; with Matthew when he had typhus; with Michaela when she was big with Katie, and simultaneously with Cloud Dancing after his stabbing at the reservation.

     Sully entered the room quietly.  "Hey Colleen," he said softly.  "How's your ma doin'?"

     "Hey Sully," she returned.  "It's probably too soon to see a change yet, but Andrew says she's holding her own."

     "Which is 'doctor talk' for 'he don't know'—right?" Sully asked mildly as he crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the cot adjacent to his wife's bed.

     Colleen gave him a slightly rueful smile.  "I know doctors don't always tell you everything," she admitted.  "Even Ma has trouble giving bad news sometimes, or telling a patient when she isn't sure what's wrong.  But Andrew's taking good care of Ma, Sully.  He's doing everything he can.  And if he doesn't say that much, it's probably because he doesn't want to get your hopes up before he knows for sure what's going to happen."

     "I know he worked real hard to save your ma's life," Sully assured her.  "I told him how grateful I am--for operatin' on your ma, and for what he's doin' now.

     "It's just—waitin' is the hardest," he confessed.  "But I don't need to tell you that.  Are you all right?" he added, noting her tired eyes and strained expression.  "I know how hard it must have been on you, with a three hour train ride from Denver, then helpin' Andrew with a blood transfusion on your own mother."

     Colleen nodded, looking at him reassuringly.  "I'm all right—a little lost sleep won't hurt me," she said, eerily echoing her mother.  "And I can handle helping with the transfusion.  I—I just have my hopes so pinned on this working . . . "

     "I know," her stepfather said gently.  "We all do."  His eyes regarded her with love and admiration.  "You're a good daughter, Colleen—and you're gonna be a great doctor.  Your ma would be so proud of you right now."

     He saw her eyes mist with tears.  "Thanks, Pa," she whispered.

     After a moment, Colleen pulled a handkerchief from her apron pocket.  She mopped at her eyes and blew her nose; then drew herself up, attempting to shed her feelings of melancholy and assume a  professional attitude.  "I know you want some time alone with Ma," she said.  "I'll leave so that you can have some privacy."

     "No," Sully responded.  "That is—I want to be with your ma, but you don't gotta leave.  You've hardly had any time with her at all—and the time you did have was spent helpin' Andrew try to save her life."

     "That's kind of you," Colleen said appreciatively.  "But I also know that this cot is reserved for you to get some rest—and you'll never go to sleep with me here."

     "I've waited this long—I can wait a little longer," Sully said.  "'Sides, Sgt. McKay showed up here at the clinic—he's waitin' to ask me more questions.  So it looks like I got to postpone a nap for a while longer, anyway."

     "No you don't," came Matthew's voice, as he appeared at the open door.  "I just came back to tell you that Andrew sent McKay packin'—he says he won't allow you to answer any more questions till after you rest."

     "Good for Andrew," Colleen said approvingly.

     "Yeah," Sully said, surprised once again at the young doctor's gumption.

     "That's settles it," Colleen pronounced, going over to join Matthew in the doorway.  "You lay down and sleep now, Sully—and maybe, when you wake up, Ma will wake up too."  She gave him a hopeful smile.

     "Maybe she will," Sully agreed, to reassure both Colleen and himself.

     Colleen gazed at her mother and Sully a moment longer, then impulsively she ran lightly over to Sully and hugged him.  He returned her embrace, then watched as she bent over and softly kissed her mother's forehead.  "I love you, Ma," she whispered.

     "She loves you too, Colleen," Sully said sincerely, reaching out to squeeze her hand.  "And so do I."  She gave him a tremulous smile.

     Finally, Colleen made herself walk out of the room.  Matthew reached for the doorknob.

     "Have a good rest," he said to Sully, and closed the door softly behind them both.

     Sully leaned over Michaela and searched her face.  She still showed no sign of waking, but her breathing was even and steady, and there seemed to be the slightest trace of renewed color in her cheeks.  He wondered if he was fooling himself into thinking she looked better—that he was just indulging in wishful thinking.  But no—that color hadn't been there before, and her breathing had definitely been more shallow--he was sure of it.

     For the first time, Sully felt it was safe to close his eyes for a short while, and renew his strength.  He kissed Michaela's lips—noting to himself that they were no longer cold, but reassuringly warm--and then, with a sigh, he lay back on the cot, feeling the gratifying softness of the pillow beneath his head.  His eyes closed, and within a few moments, he was finally, deeply asleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

     The first thing Sully noticed when he opened his eyes was that the light was all wrong.  The sun had traveled across the floor, and shadows hugged the corners of the room.  With a start, he realized that it was late afternoon, and he had slept nearly the entire day away.

     He felt a flush of anger—at himself, for not taking the short nap he had intended, and with Andrew and his family, for failing to rouse him.  For all he knew, Michaela could have awakened and he wouldn't have known.

     He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the cot, then leaned over to look at Michaela.  Still she slept, but she had shifted position.   Her face was turned away from him, and she lay slightly curled under the blankets, her hand pillowed beneath her cheek.  It was a position she often favored when she slept.  Her breathing was deep and even, and the hint of color he'd seen in her face that morning was now more pronounced.   She looked so natural and familiar to him as she lay there, that Sully could almost believe she would open her eyes at any moment and speak to him.

     On the heels of that thought came another:  perhaps this was a good sign.  If her sleep was natural, then maybe she had finally turned the corner and was on her way to recovery.

     How desperately Sully wanted to believe that was true!  But he needed Andrew's confirmation that he wasn't indulging in false hope.  Most of all, he needed Michaela to awaken and prove she'd come back to him.

     He gently kissed Michaela's cheek, then quietly left her room.  The ever-present guards waited in the hall—two different men from those who has been watching him previously—but to Sully they were indistinguishable from his earlier guards, and no less annoying and intrusive.

     Sully entered the main room of the clinic.  Andrew sat at Michaela's desk, making notations in a patient's file.  In another chair, sat Sgt. McKay.

     Both Andrew and McKay looked up as Sully appeared.

     "Good afternoon, Sully," said McKay.  "I told you I'd be back."

     Sully cut his eyes to McKay briefly, but didn't bother to reply.  His attention was fixed on Andrew.

     "You're awake," said Andrew.  "How are you feeling, Sully?"

     "Kinda vexed that you didn't wake me long before this, Andrew," Sully said.  "Michaela coulda waked up any time and I wouldn't have known.  How could you let me sleep so long?" he added accusingly.

     "Sully, it was all we could do to get you to rest in the first place." Andrew replied patiently.  "When I saw that you were finally getting the sleep you needed, I was hardly about to disturb you."

     "But Michaela—“

     "If Michaela had awakened, of course I would have roused you," Andrew assured him.  "But something tells me I wouldn't have had to—I think you would have known."

     Andrew's reasonable manner and surprising perceptiveness served to diffuse Sully's tension. More calmly, Sully realized that Andrew had only been looking out for his welfare—and that Michaela's young colleague sympathized with his anxiety.

     "Sorry if I was short with you," Sully said more contritely.  "I've just been waitin' a long time, Andrew."

     "I understand," Andrew said.

     "I think maybe somethin's happened, though," Sully went on, his eyes animated.  "Michaela's still sleepin', but she's layin' in a different position—like she would if she was well, sleepin' in her own bed at home.  She's breathin' more easy, and she looks like she's got some color back in her cheeks.  Does that mean the transfusion worked—that she's gettin' better?"

     "That certainly sounds promising," Andrew replied, getting to his feet and reaching for his stethoscope, which lay on the desk.  "I'll examine her right now."  Sully started to follow him, but Andrew put up his hand in a discouraging gesture.  "I'd prefer you to wait here," he said.  "I'll come back and speak to you as soon as I've finished."

     Sully sighed, but allowed Andrew to leave the room without him.

     "I hope this is good news," McKay spoke up after a moment's silence.

     "So do I," Sully answered.

     "Since we seem to be alone, with a few minutes to spare, could we speak?" McKay asked politely.  He seemed to have decided to abandon the challenging manner he'd affected earlier.

     "Matthew ain't here," Sully began reluctantly.   "But—I guess you been pretty patient.  So—what else do you want to ask me?"

     "Well, we discussed Palmer Creek, but we haven't covered the time you were missing," McKay answered.  "I would like an account of your activities after the uprising.  Just what were you doing all that time, Sully?"

* * * * * * * * * *

         "That's easy," Sully said, dropping into Michaela's chair.  He tipped it back, bracing his feet against the desk.  Folding his hands across his chest he said, "Nothin'."

     "I thought you were going to be honest with me," McKay objected.

     "I am," Sully told him.  "It's the truth.  I didn't do nothin', Sergeant—‘cause I couldn't."

     "What do you mean?" McKay asked him.

     "I mean, that till just a short time ago I couldn't even walk.  I was laid up for weeks with two broken legs, Sergeant—one of them was so bad I had to lay in a contraption called a 'fracture box' till it healed.  Fact is, after the accident gangrene set in—I nearly lost the leg altogether."

     "It sounds as if your condition was quite perilous," McKay remarked.  "Yet you look healthy and vigorous now.  You obviously made a full recovery.  Who nursed you back to health, Sully?  Or am I to believe that you treated yourself—that you went through your recovery all alone?"

     Sully studied McKay's eyes for a few seconds, mulling over his response.  Finally he came to a decision.

     "I'd be makin' fools of us both if I tried to make you believe that," he said.  "No Sergeant—I wasn't alone—at least not after the first few days.  I *did* manage to reset the leg, but I was in a bad way, and gettin' worse.  Then—Michaela  found me, half-dead from infection and exposure.  She saved my life."

     "Why don't you start at the beginning, and tell me everything that happened?" suggested McKay.

     Sully lowered his feet to the floor and leaned forward across the desk, pinning McKay with a sober look.  "If I tell you the truth, I want your promise that you'll keep Michaela out of it.," he stated.  "What she did for me, she did out of love, and because she's bound by her oath as a doctor to treat anyone who's hurt or sick.  Fact is, she'd do the same for you, if it came right down to it.  She don't deserve to be punished for doin' what she was born to do."

     McKay sighed.  He removed his cap, and ran his finger around the inside of the scarf tied around his neck.  The day had been unseasonably warm, and it was close here in the clinic.  He could feel tiny beads of sweat blooming at his hairline, and his neckerchief felt damp against his skin.

     "Sully, you keep expecting me to make deals with you, when you're in no position to be asking for any favors," he protested mildly.  "And you also seem to think I am the last authority where your case is concerned—that I have total discretion to decide your fate—or that of Dr. Quinn."

     "I don't see anyone else here," said Sully.

     "Be that as it may, I am responsible to my superiors, and they would not look kindly on me allowing you special privileges.  I'm guilty of seriously bending the law just by agreeing to let you stay here at the clinic, instead of insisting you be locked up in the jail.  If I were to further compound my guilt by failing to investigate your wife's complicity in your actions—“

     "But that's just the point!" Sully exclaimed.  "All Michaela did was treat my injuries.  She didn't know NOTHIN' about any plans I had to go to Palmer Creek, or anythin' I did after I got there.  I deliberately kept her in the dark, to protect her.  I didn't want her implicated in any way."

     "I accept that she was ignorant of your actions before the fact," McKay replied.  "But after?  Clearly she hid you and protected you while you were recovering, and blatantly lied to me and this town about you being dead.  Even if I promised not to divulge her part in harboring you while you were a fugitive, there is no way you could convince a court of law that you were alone all those weeks, and managed to recover from your life-threatening injuries without her help.

     "Sully—the truth is I have no desire to see Dr. Quinn suffer any more than she already has.  But there's only so much I can do.  If I am asked to give testimony on the stand about what I know, I've got to tell the truth—or risk committing perjury.  At the very least, I could be charged with contempt."

     "Only if I admit to being hurt and laid up all that time," Sully said.  "If I claim that I was hidin' up in the hills, stayin' away till I thought it was safe to come back, there's no one who can prove otherwise—includin' you.   You can say whatever you want, but I'll just deny it.  That would keep Michaela out of it, and take you off the hook."

     "You love your wife very much," McKay stated softly.  "You must, to go to such lengths to protect her."

     "Yeah, I do," Sully said quietly.  "With all my heart.  And I'm askin' you to help me to help her.  I don't know how all this is gonna turn out, but I'm ready to accept whatever punishment the army sees fit to give me—as long as my wife and my family are safe."

     Sully folded his hands on the desktop and looked at McKay expectantly.  "So what do you say, Sergeant?  Do we have a deal?"

     "Sully," came Andrew's voice, startling them both.  They had been so intent on their conversation, neither had noticed the young doctor enter the room.

     "Andrew!" said Sully, instinctively rising to his feet.  "How is she?"  His eyes were nakedly vulnerable in his pale face.

     For the first time since this nightmare had begun, Andrew's face wore a smile.

     "You were right," he confirmed.  "Michaela's condition is definitely improving.  Her blood pressure and respiration are within normal range.  She should be coming around any time now."

     Sully nearly staggered on his feet as a tide of relief washed over him.  For a moment, he was incapable of speech.  Then, swallowing hard over the lump in his throat, he ventured, "You're sure?"

     "I'm sure," Andrew stated, coming over to lay a hand on his shoulder.  "She's going to be all right."

     Sully's eyes closed briefly as he silently whispered his thanks to the spirits.  Then, giving Andrew a look of gratitude, he said haltingly, "Andrew, I—I don't know how to thank you—“

     "There's no need," Andrew interrupted him.  "I'm just as glad as you are that Michaela is better.  But I suggest you go to her now, if you want to be there when she wakes up."  He grinned at Sully again.

     A look of joy lit Sully's eyes, and spread across his face.  He started to move toward the recovery room door, but then hesitated and looked back at McKay.

     "Go ahead," McKay said to him.  "And congratulations.  I truly mean that."

     "Thanks," Sully said sincerely.

     "And Sully—the matter we were discussing?" McKay added.  Sully waited.  "The answer is yes—we have a deal.  We'll talk more later.  In the meantime, please give Dr. Quinn my best wishes."

     "I'll do that," Sully pledged.  He looked at McKay for a moment, then came back across the room and stuck out his hand.  McKay accepted it, and they shook silently.  Sully gave McKay a nod of respect, then disappeared through the door, to welcome his beloved Michaela back to the land of the living.