He never was a good patient. Even when he only had the flu, Gabriel was always restless, impatient to be well and out of bed.

If she thinks of it that way, it's more bearable.

One glass, two ice cubes, water poured three quarters of the way up: it's easy to be methodical. To be controlled. Regan settles on the edge of the bed this time when she returns, carefully avoiding his IV tube and the oxygen line.

Only a few days, but already she's grown practiced at judging when the bed needs to be raised or lowered, when he needs another pillow, how to sit to avoid jarring tubes or machines. She would hate it if she let herself think about it, so she doesn't.