This wasn’t the first time Tyree had woken up in a hospital bed, but it was certainly the first time he had woken up with no idea of what day of the week it was, or why he was in so much pain. Sure, he’d been under heavy medication to help his body heal, but the pain from the inevitable stitches was still very real to him. He’d asked Shona to leave the room for a bit–begging her to actually go feed herself, promising he would be alright in the time she was gone–and after a good five minutes of trying to convince her through a rough, raspy voice, she finally left begrudgingly. Letting out a shaky breath, he wanted to roll his eyes as the oxygen tube in his nose got in the way. He knew it was mandatory, though. He knew that the pain in his chest, this heaviness, it was not going to go away quickly. But he had done a good thing, an incredible thing, by saving Whitney. And as he laid there in the hospital bed, dark brown eyes staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t help but think that it was worth it. He’d been able to fight for his own life. It might have been a struggle, but after a week of being unconscious he was finally awake. In pain, yes. With a hoarse voice, yes. But he wasn’t dying, and that was what mattered the most. Hearing someone enter his room he glanced up, a dazed look on his face. “Hey.” He whispered, trying to sit up properly to greet the person, only to find that he couldn’t quite gather the strength to do that.