Time was a funny thing. One minute, Sophia was lying in a hospital bed, barely able to move, barely able to even believe she was alive, and the next, she was being discharged, clear to head back into the world.

Well, almost clear. Her doctors, Blake, half the rest of the hospital, and Dean all made it very clear that she was to take things slowly. Very slowly. She wasn't even cleared to go on a plane back to California for another two weeks.

So after two weeks in the hospital, she was trading in Mt. Sinai for the Four Seasons Hotel. Yeah. Apparently, the F.B.I. was very regretful over what happened to her and figured the least they could do was set her and Dean up in a fancy hotel. Taxpayer dollars at work.

Once she had been cleared for more visitors, Sophia had never been short of company. Carmen and Blake dropped by every day, giving her hospital gossip and providing Dean time to take short breaks. He would never admit it, but Sophia knew he appreciated being able to go and stretch his legs a little bit. He wasn't used to sitting still for so long.

Ronnie dropped by often, as well. Sophia wasn't sure how much her old boss knew, but the supervisor at least had been informed of Sophia's medical background, and apparently had been informed that Sophia had saved her life. It made for an awkward first meeting, but after Sophia insisted Ronnie had nothing to thank her for, Ronnie was a steady presence in the chaos of the hospital.

Dean had remained his ever-vigilant and attentive self. He worked with her team to figure out what she could eat, getting more and more inventive with his shopping trips so that, even with her limited diet, she always had something interesting to try. And he still remained quiet on what, exactly, his thoughts were about them. As Sophia grew stronger and stronger, and therefore able to focus on things other than her own problems, it became more frustrating and frustrating.

But the conversation never happened, and the next thing she knew, Dean was helping her into a wheelchair, ready to be wheeled out. Instead of scrubs, she wore a plain t-shirt and shorts from her own wardrobe, her hair braided practically in two pigtails behind her head. That had been Carmen's doing; thank God for her coworker's hair talents, if Carmen hadn't helped out, Sophia would have one giant mat on her head.

"Let me know how everything goes." Blake wrapped his arms around Sophia one last time and whispered in her ear. He stood up. "And take it easy. And make sure to come and visit if you're ever in New York again."

"I will." Sophia squeezed his hand. "Thanks for everything, really."

Sophia said her goodbyes to her other hospital friends, Dean patiently wheeling her across the hospital so she could hunt people down. But then there was no reason to stay, so she and Dean made their way to the black car waiting outside to take them to the bottom of Manhattan.

If Sophia had to, she would put money on the driver being a Fed, but other than giving them a brief nod, the man said nothing, only pulled away from the curb and began his battle against New York City traffic.

Sophia leaned against the window, watching the Upper West Side slowly go past. She could Dean in the reflection, his head frequently turning in her direction to check up on her.

He was worried. That was obvious. At first, it was over her actual survival, but once it became that she was healing quite well physically and the risk for complications decreased, it was her mental state that plagued him.

It worried her, too. The entire ordeal had been almost too horrible for words. But Sophia had been...fine. It made her sick to think about, yeah, and she hated that it happened, but in terms of lasting effects, so far, she hadn't seen any.

In her medical opinion, she would say she was still in some form of shock. What would happen when that shock wore off, however, well, she didn't really want to think about it.

Sophia stared up at the hotel as Dean wheeled her toward the entrance, their driver/security guard trailing behind. For a moment, she forgot everything that had happened to her in the past few weeks. Because holy shit, it was a nice hotel.

The driver picked up their keys from the front desk, a wholly streamlined process that made Sophia suspect that the hotel staff knew at least somewhat of what was going on with her. The driver handed over the plastic cards to Dean, gave the two of them another nod, and disappeared back to his car. He never spoke a word.

A bellhop followed them up with their luggage, but once the door closed behind him, a very intentional silence fell. Now, it was just the two of them.

For weeks, even though Dean had rarely left her side, there had still been a buffer of doctors and nurses, machinery and medications, between her and Dean. But now, with the hotel staff safely on the other side of the door and Mt. Sinai on the other side of Manhattan, there was nothing to ease the inevitable awkwardness between the two of them.

And more than that, the room had two beds. It wouldn't have made sense to have a room with only one, but Sophia hadn't even thought about it until she saw it, and the gap between the two gaped as wide as the Grand Canyon. She had never slept with Dean without actually sleeping with him.

Dean cleared his throat. "Is there, uh, is there anything you want to do right now?" he asked her. "Eat, sleep..."

"Shower." The word fell from her mouth without hesitation. In reality, she wanted to just fucking talk to him, but that desire remained locked up, at least for the time being. And getting clean, washing off all the smells and textures of the hospital, came at a very close second.

Dean nodded and started toward the bathroom, but Sophia stopped him. "I can do it," she said. "Just, can you grab me something to change into?"

He nodded and picked up one of her bags, setting it down on one of the beds. The one closest to the bathroom and farthest from the door. She had no doubt in her mind that that was intentional. He dug through her clothes, but then paused.

"You had this?" He lifted out the L.A.F.D. shirt, his gaze slowly dragging from it to her.

Sophia didn't know why her face burned, but it did. She nodded.

He handed it to her along with a pair of shorts and underwear. "Let me know if you need anything else," he said, his voice oddly hilted.

Sophia nodded and was grateful to wheel into the bathroom just to dodge the awkwardness.

She almost cried. Not because of her and Dean, but because of the bathroom. It was gorgeous, her eyes drawn immediately to the freestanding tub, separate from the glass, standing shower. God, she wished she could just sink into the embrace of warm water and bath salts, but she could soak her wound for a while. A shower would have to do.

The hotel staff had left a chair in the shower. The Feds must have put that in their special instructions.

It was the first time she had really used her legs in ages. It was only a few steps from her chair to the shower, but her muscles screamed and her step was jerky. Nothing like needing to learn how to walk again.

It wasn't a bath, but finally getting to clean herself was heavenly. The shampoo and soap provided smelled so fresh and clean, and the stream of water allowed Sophia to finally feel like she, and not the hospital, was washing off the grime of what had happened to her.

Sophia swallowed back tears. This was not the time to confront everything that happened. This was the time for her to clean up.

She paused before putting on the L.A.F.D. shirt. Dean had handed it to her, yes, but how would react when he saw her in it?

Sophia shook her head. Enough of that. He could deal. And she wanted to wear the shirt, feel the softness and familiarity of it. And maybe, if she was lucky, it would spark the conversation that she was so desperate to have.

Dean had apparently been busy when she was showering. A cart of food sat in the middle of the hotel room, more plates than Sophia figured they would be able to eat in one sitting.

"I didn't know what you would want, so I just ordered a bunch of stuff," Dean explained as Sophia came rolling out, his eyes flickering to her shirt just for a moment. "And they're fast. Scary fast."

"Not your typical room service, no," Sophia agreed. "Or maybe the Feds just told them to keep everything soft on hand and ready to go at a moment's notice."

And it really wasn't typical room service. Not that Sophia frequented ordering in when she stayed at hotels, but the food was better than most food she had eaten at nice restaurants. Certainly, a step up from hospital food.

Other than occasionally commenting on how good a dish was, they ate in silence. Sophia wondered if Dean was as desperate as she was to talk, but maybe couldn't find the words. Or maybe he was still waiting for her to set the pace and talk to him. But all of this waiting was just making her miserable.

The thing about being in a hospital for two straight weeks? Sleep never came in long stretches. Nurses were always in and out, so neither she nor Dean had gotten a good night's rest in forever. As the sun went down, earlier than Sophia was used to now that summer was ending, they both had drooping eyes and big yawns.

"Dean, we really need to talk in the morning." Sophia refused to go another day with this awkwardness between them. They were out of the hospital, she was going to be fine, so there was no need to torture themselves any longer.

He gave her a long look and then nodded. "I know," he said. "But you need to get some rest, now, Sophia."

"So do you."

He didn't argue that. He helped her up onto her bed, gently placing the covers over her as she sank into the soft bed with a sigh. It was the most comfortable she had been in weeks, and with the warmth of the covers, it felt like she could fall asleep for a week.

"Good night, Sophia," Dean whispered. She heard him getting into his own bed, and then the click of the lights turning off.

Sophia's eyes shot open at the sudden onslaught of darkness, all thoughts of comfort and sleep erased from her mind in an instant.

Things pretty much went straight to shit from there.