He was aware of noise around him, of pain, and the startling white of the lights in his face. People asked him questions, his name, his age, and he was sure he’d heard Ewan’s voice on more than one occasion telling him he was an uncle now and uncles didn’t do things like die on oil platforms. Although Ewan’s voice was welcome he still craved Finn’s lower, huskier tones but there had been no sign of him. The doctor told him he’d been hypothermic, that his radius had snapped out through his skin, that he’d lost blood and was actually lucky that they’d got him back to land and to a hospital before he died from shock. That had been at least an hour ago and since then no one had even come into his room, let alone talked to him. Right now he’d even give a smile to a nurse if it meant he wasn’t stuck here with drips in the back of his hand and his head buzzing with pain. They’d suspected a concussion from the boat deck explosion he’d rigged with the water at high pressure.
