The question was echoed by the head nurse at the front desk of the ICU, a stern martinet with iron-grey hair and a no-nonsense attitude.

“She is in a coma, Miss Wainwright. And according to Dr. Marafi's notes, quite unlikely to recover consciousness anytime soon. Why would a woman in a coma require a private room? They're expensive as hell and hard to come by, even in a hospital this large.

“Besides," she said, a hint of steel entering her voice. "You're not a member of her family or a Legal guardian. You have no right to be making any requests.”

In her mind, Althea sighed. ~This one's not going to budge, dear one.~ Rachel could almost hear Althea frown. ~I don't like doing this.

But when it comes time to restore me to my body , I can't have a bunch of people interrupting us and wondering what the hell we are doing. I need a room to myself and a door that bolts shut.~

Rachel caught and held the nurse's eyes. In response to Althea's silent guidance, she allowed her voice to deepen, becoming almost hypnotic.

“Come on. What's the harm? The woman's insurance can pay for it. And if they won't, she can. She's rich as old King Midas. Why not have the hospital make a Little money for a change? As hard as all of you work, you deserve it. And I know it would make her happy to have a room to herself. And isn't this what you got into nursing for?" she wheedled.

“To help sick people get better?"

The faded blue eyes blinked confusedly.

“Well, maybe..." she said.

Rachel smiled brightly. "Well, then it's settled! I'll have these two helpful young people give your folks a hand," she said, indicating

Maria and Alex.

“Thank you so much," she finished, taking the older woman's hand and shaking it firmly.

In just a handful of minutes, Althea's body was moved to a larger room.

Technically, it was not private, as it did have another bed, but the head nurse gave a somewhat bleary-voiced guarantee that no other patients would share the space with Althea. She sat down contentedly by her friend as efficient nurses set up the equipment which monitored her health and kept her fed.

She took up her hand, her fingers playing over the too-pale skin.

Unlike the form Althea showed in her glade, this body showed the signs of the trauma it had lived through. The skin was more sallow, an effect of days without sunshine. Her face was thinner, the hair losing its golden luster. The lids that covered her eyes seemed parchment-thin, almost bruised.

And despite it all, she was still heart-stoppingly gorgeous. Her throat grew dry with desire as she drank in the sculpted bones of her face.

The urge, no, the need to take her in her arms, to make love to her until they were both sticky and sated, was almost overwhelming. Her nostrils flared with the faint, indefinable scent of her musk.

“She's very beautiful, isn't she, senora?" Maria said softly as the last nurse bustled cheerfully out of the room, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. She drifted over to stand beside her, looking down at Althea.

“You must care for her very much."

Rachel fought against a flood-tide of jealousy, bitter as gall, at the thought of another person finding Althea attractive. Ashamed of her own reaction, she took a deep breath to forestall a sharp reply. In her mind, she could sense amusement as Althea watched her struggle.

“Yes, she is. And yes, I do. I hope that someday soon you will have the chance to meet her," she said. "In a very real way, she is the reason why we are all so much happier now than we were a few weeks ago.”

“Seriously?” Alex asked. He joined Maria at the bedside. "She convinced you to...to..."

“To stop being an insufferable tight-ass who was making her family miserable?" she finished, raising her eyebrows. "Yes. She did. The first time I took her advice was a few weeks ago, when I came home after that traffic accident. You were telling me about Othello. I was just about piss on your parade again, when I heard her voice in my head." She smiled at Althea's mental snort.