They have and Randall is glad to get out of the hospital.

"Yes, thank God!" he answered. "I can't wait to get out of this place! You know how I feel about hospitals..." he added.

You nodded in agreement. Randall had been uncomfortable in hospitals since the **** of his mother. "I know, dude. The quicker you get out of here, the faster we can get back to normal."

You winced at your words as soon as they came out of your mouth. Randall gave you a sharp glare. He didn't hold it long, though, before relaxing and sighing. "Normal?" he said with a somewhat bitter laugh. "I don't know that this will ever be 'normal'. But I'll be damned if I let this beat me. Maybe that's one good thing about Alice & Dad rejecting me - I've got to face up to this and deal with it."

You saw another flash of anger but are relieved to see Randall's spirit returing. You were afraid the trauma of this transplant plus his asshole parents might break him. But he seemed to holding up - you always admired his inner strength and were happy to see it was still there.

He continued. "Screw them! I can get by on my own!"

"Hey, man," you interrupted softly, "you're not alone in this. You've got me and my folks. Don't forget that!"

His expression softened more. "You're right, dude. You don't know how much of a relief that is." He reached over, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze. He looked you in the eyes, his gaze filled with gratitude. As you sat there silently for a few seconds, you couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable - sitting by the bedside of a pretty, pregnant women, holding her hand and staring her in the eyes. You tried to push aside the strangeness of the situation; you definitely didn't want Randall to notice your discomfort when he clearly needed you.

Breaking the silence, you said "Oh yeah, I'm going to be staying with you for a little while at your 'new' place. And even when things settle down and I go back home, Dad said I can come over as often as I want. That's something else, huh?"

You were surprised to see a blush creep up her cheeks. Randall NEVER blushed before so that throws you for a moment.

"Well..." he said, "not exactly. I kinda set that up...."

"What do you mean?" you asked, curious.

"With the counseling we went through after mom died, I got a pretty good feel for dealing with that kind of stuff," he started.

You nod again in understanding. You weren't certain how much Randall actually knew about psychology, but you always thought Randall had a knack for manipulating people. Given his easygoing nature, though, it didn't usually come up.

He continued. "Well, the doctors asked me a bunch of psych questions soon after I woke up. Pretty simple stuff, really, not much more advanced than those personality tests we took in school. Maybe they were afraid to bring in a real psychologist - didn't want to tell anyone else what really happened to me. Hell, even the nurses don't know..."

He rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I mostly said what they wanted to hear. But I did play up feeling all alone & isolated, cut off from everyone. It wasn't too hard - it's kinda the truth, after all," he said with a wry smile. "But I did exaggerate a bit. Even said outright that I could really use someone at home. It was obvious they would ask you."

"Slick, dude!" you noted, impressed with his foresight. A thought crossed your mind. "Talking about going to your apartment - what do you know about 'her'?" you asked, waving your hand at his body.

He looked a little concerned. "Not that much. The hospital had plenty of records but that's mostly superficial, you know. I hope she had a diary or something at her place I can read. She didn't have any family here, so that helps, I guess. But she probably had some friends. At least she hasn't lived her that long...."