Someone stood in the open door of the room, his silence more compelling than the steady beep of machinery, more alarming than the agonizing pain that had tugged Rayne Sampson from the velvety darkness she'd floated in for . . .             How long?               She didn't know.            Had no sense of time passing.                She shifted, the mechanized beep jumping with her pulse.               Pain.          In her head.           Her joints.               Someone watching. Time stalling. Nothing moving. Not Rayne. Not the figure standing near the door.