"Is there someone I can call for you?" Her voice slid through him like her fingers through his hair and it took a minute for Eli to realize she'd spoken.
"What?" It was too hard to talk, too hard to pay attention.
"Someone to call? A friend? Relative? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?"
Eli's eyes snapped open at the last. Did she think he was gay? Might be better if she did, but the possibility bothered him. "Don't live here now."
"What about where you do live? Is there somebody who'll worry?"
He wanted to laugh at that idea, but it hurt too much. "Nobody."
"Well." Marilyn traced a feathersoft touch across his eyebrow. "I guess I'll have to take care of all the worrying."
Pete would worry, if he knew. So would old Fitz, so it was probably a good thing they didn't know. He didn't want them to know. Teresa would only worry about how it might affect her, which was not at all. He'd got her away safe before going back to warn Flash off, and she'd stay safe as long as she stayed where he put her. If she left there--that was on her own head.
At least Pete was out of it for good now. Fitz would look after the kid. Eli didn't have anyone he needed to worry about but himself. It felt kind of nice to know that somebody else was too.
"Excuse me, Mr. Court?" A plump middle-aged woman put her head through the door. "I'm with admitting. I just need to see about getting some information for our records, get you to sign a few things--"
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Marilyn said. "How do you expect him to sign anything? His arms are broken."
"'S okay." Eli caught her hand with his good one. "Relax, Marilyn." He pointed at the jacket in her hands. "My wallet. In front."
"Do you have your insurance card, Mr. Court?" the clerk asked, edging closer to him and away from Marilyn who fumbled through the pockets of his leather coat.
"No. No insurance." Eli took the wallet when Marilyn found it, but couldn't open it one-handed, left-handed. He gave it back to her.
"I do," Marilyn said. "I have insurance."
"No." Eli pointed at the wallet. "I'll pay. Cash." He pointed again, emphatically, when Marilyn just stared at him. "I'll pay."
Marilyn opened it as if she feared snakes might jump out and bite her, her eyes widening at the size of his bankroll. She pulled it out of the slot.
"How much?" He took the bills, ready to count them out.
"Oh no, Mr. Court." The clerk flushed red. "We can't do that here. Hospital rules. You can take care of that when you're discharged. If I could just have your driver's license? I'll make a copy and get your information off that."
Eli handed the money back to Marilyn. He had several thousand there, but he wasn't any too sure it would be enough for this bill. Still, it seemed to satisfy the clerk. He pointed at his license in its plastic window. Fingers trembling, Marilyn put the cash away and got out the license. The clerk vanished. Eli waited for Marilyn's explosion.
"Are you crazy?" She took a few steps away, whirled and came back, shaking the wallet at him. "Carrying this much cash? Those guys were trying to rob you, weren't they?"
He blinked at her. "Thought you'd want to know if I was a drug dealer or something."
She froze and blinked back. "Are you?"
Then she shook her head. "No. You're no dealer. Dealers don't run alone. They have bodyguards to keep from getting beat up and robbed. They don't rescue middle-aged women from muggers and they carry drugs to sell, which I know you don't have because I've already been through your pockets."
Eli let the tension run out of him, still shocked by her reaction. Not "where did you get the money," but "carrying so much cash will get you hurt." Who was this woman?
"If they'd wanted to rob me," he said, pronouncing the words carefully, "they'd have the money."
"They just wanted to hurt you, didn't they?" Marilyn's hand hovered over his face, close enough he could feel its warmth, but not touching.
Eli was startled to see tears in her eyes. She was crying. Over him?
With his good hand, he brushed his fingers across the back of her hand and pressed it to his cheek. It didn't hurt any more than he was already hurting, and suddenly he needed her touch, needed to feel her hand against his skin.
The door rattled with the admissions clerk's return and Marilyn sprang back, jerking her hand away. She jostled Eli's bruised face and he couldn't stop the gasp. But he was willing to pay the price. He'd had her touch. She'd given him her tears. No one had ever shed a single tear for him. Ever.
Marilyn took the license and slid it back in place. He could tell she was wiping away tears, though she had her back to him.
"You okay?" Eli asked when the clerk was gone. He wanted to get up, go to her.
"Fine." She turned around, smiling, but the tears' traces still showed.
"Want to leave?" He had to let her go if that was what she wanted. He'd made her cry.
"No." Marilyn swiped the back of her hand across a cheek. "That is, unless--are you sure there isn't someone I should call?"
"No one." He held his hand out to her and she took it, letting him draw her close. When she stood next to the bed, he reached up, moving slow and easy in case she didn't want it. She went still while Eli stroked his thumb beneath her eyes, wiping away the faint remaining dampness.
"Did you get it illegally?" she asked. "The money? Are the police looking for you?"
"No," he said, drawing back again. "There's no
