/ / /AN: Hi! This is my first Switched at Birth story. There are so few out there, and I'm hoping to pad out the archives a little for this underappreciated show . I'm not using any particular font setting to indicate signing, but when communication is between one or more deaf characters, I hope it's clear that sign language is being used by the way it's written. This fic takes place shortly after 2x11, is AU from that point on and assumes one small change – Regina has not gone to rehab yet. Please enjoy!/ / /

Bay lives in a world where dread centres on the sudden ring of a telephone in the middle of the night; a brutish blade of sound in the quiet. Terror distilled into a shrill mechanical cry and a soundwave that pierces her heart like a cruel finger. She only remembers one time in her life when the landline has rung after midnight. Her grandfather had been found dead in his apartment.

A knock at the front door, this late, would alarm her – but less so, because so many people live here now that it's bound to happen more often when someone forgets their keys. Nevertheless, that muffled sound – so welcome in daylight hours – is worrisome in the dark, and without meaning to, she always looks at her window for the bright flash of sirens, and waits for footsteps coming up the stairs which signal the return of a family member, and nothing more.

A knock on her own door, she never thought to dread. It's always been Toby, checking his cover story after sneaking out, or showing her song lyrics in a fit of inspiration and pride that carries him through to morning. Or her dad, making sure she's still in her room at all; her mom, gentle and worried, unable to sleep because of some mother's instinct that tells her Bay is upset or angry or scared. Once, when Wilke slept over because he was drunk, he'd knocked on her door and started warbling a Guitar Face song to her, until her horrified brother wrestled him away.

Nowadays, she'd expect Daphne. Although she's never actually knocked on Bay's door after midnight before, she is the one who knows the most of her secrets; has the most reason to confer in private, or confront her away from the prying eyes and ears of their family. And when this knock comes – three short, sharp bangs which come not from knocking but from pounding on a door – Bay is startled out of near-sleep and jack-knifes in her bed, eyes still focussing when the door flies open and Daphne stands in the light of the hallway. And she's not frightened.

Yet.

'What's going on?' Bay asks, and her signing stumbles a little because she's so caught off guard. In the second it takes her hands to catch up to her brain, she realizes with a sickening jolt that Daphne is radiating panic – the widened whites of her eyes are eerie in the shadows. Her hands are still moving when Daphne answers the question.

'Emmett was in an accident!' she cries. Her hands jerk the same message.

And Bay learns what fear is in the same way she imagines a person who has been totally deaf their whole lives might suddenly experience sound. It's not there – has never been there, even though you think you kind of understand it – and then it IS.

Her heart seems to explode in her chest; she stares open mouthed at Daphne, choking on her voice. A line of frost races up her back like a poisonous spider and she's consumed with a visceral need to hold Emmett's hand really, really tight and never let go and she's forced to clench her fingers over her sheets instead.

'He's in the hospital, come on!'

Melody had called Regina from the hospital, who woke Daphne, who in her frantic rush to the car had decided it was a good idea to tell Bay, despite everything, and fled up to her room. In seconds they ran out to the already-running car, Regina tense and ram-rod straight in the driver's seat – without saying anything, they both passed on the front seat and ran to opposite side-doors, jumping inside and sitting, shaking, together. Holding hands.

'What. Happened,' Bay gritted out. Her voice sounded alien.

'He sneaked out on his motorcycle,' Regina said tightly. 'He was hit by a car. Melody got a call when the emergency room nurse identified him from the school ID in his wallet.'

'And is he okay? I mean – how bad is it?'

'I don't know. Melody didn't know. She just wanted us to come.'

She realizes her voice sounds alien because she is crying. She realizes it when she tears her hand away from Daphne to cover her mouth with her hands so she doesn't cry out, and her face is wet.

The last time she saw Emmett was at school. He'd told her about Noah and Daphne. And she had accused him of being jealous, and not believed him, and after months of clinging to hope that they would be together again, he had finally told her he wasn't waiting around anymore, which was what she had thought she wanted – but she'd watched him walk away and felt... awful. She had spent so long wishing he would let up on her – just be her friend, and forget what they used to be. And now the chips had fallen and she wanted nothing more than to take it all back, because she loves him, and she knows – too late, because it is a knowledge that comes only when terrible things shake you awake – that fighting it was pointless, and being with him would have been worth everything she was afraid of.

She forgot to put on shoes. You know how sometimes when something's happening, you just know which bits are going to stick in your memory? If Emmett dies, this is what she'll remember. Her bare feet, and how they felt plodding along the grey linoleum, and how she could look straight down at them and how pale they were because Regina was leading her by the hand like a child. She'll remember Daphne in her doorway, and her bare feet, and whatever it is that Melody says when they find her.

They turn a corner, and she hears Regina breathe 'oh my God' – and she looks up. Melody is sitting in a plastic chair in a waiting room – they're in a waiting room (how did Regina know to go here?). Her head is buried in her hands.

All three of them run, and Regina shakes Melody's shoulder when they reach her. Melody moves so fast it's like she's been shocked; she sits up, and her proud, hard face is streaked with tears, and when she sees Regina she kind of gasps.

'How's Emmett?'

Regina and Daphne ask at the same time – Bay is frozen.

'He's in surgery,' Melody signs. 'He has a concussion and a fractured skull. His shoulder is dislocated, he has two broken ribs and his right leg is broken. His lung collapsed. There are signs of internal bleeding so they have to do exploratory surgery as well.'

Emmett's injuries stack up in Bay's head and a stubborn, childish voice in her head says no, no, no… but it isn't even convincing itself.

Melody visibly sags when she reaches the end of her macabre list, and without warning she kicks out angrily. 'The car that hit him was going ten miles over the speed limit.'

Bay bursts into tears.

It is loud, and ugly, but Bay doesn't even care – this is how she feels, because a body she loves was scraped along the road, battered and bleeding. The boy she is in love with is hurt. Regina's face crumples and she pulls Bay into her side with one arm, the other on Melody's shoulder. Daphne has sunk into the chair beside her, face completely white. Melody herself is wrecked, a mess of a woman, ravaged with worry, and Bay is the weak one because she can't stop crying – tears pour down her cheeks and she crosses her arms to hold her chest together and tries to stop, but she can't. Melody looks up at her and Bay looks down before she can meet her eyes. She hates herself.

Emmett.

They wait.

At some point, Regina's phone rings – it's Kathryn, wondering where the hell they all are. She steps away to take the call, and when she comes back, she says 'Kathryn's coming. She wants to be with you girls.'

And Mighty Mother Kathryn is there within twenty minutes. She bowls her way towards them, and Bay, whose brain is moving as slow as molasses, barely registers her presence before her mother slams into her and hugs her so tightly she can't breathe. Bay, who is a perfunctory hugger when it comes to her parents, holds her just as tightly, so she doesn't have to hold herself up.

'Mom…' she sobs. Because Kathryn has always been able to make everything better for Bay. She kissed scraped knees and put chamomile lotion on mosquito bites and made her soup when she was sick. She is the Fixer of the Medical Malady and a tiny part of Bay feels like her presence will help Emmett somehow, if she can make Kathryn understand how important Emmett is – just as much as Bay and Toby, and even though he's hurt her children. She wants Kathryn to forget everything Bay's ever said about being over Emmett and magically understand exactly how she's feeling – like if Emmett dies, she will actually die too.

'Oh, honey…' Kathryn whispers into her hair. And Bay can tell that she does understand what Emmett means to her – hears it in the crack in her voice, the one she gets when she is afraid for her child – because she's afraid for Bay now, and what might become of her.

But there's no solution she can offer. No mother's magic that can save Emmett just because Bay cares so much. Bay can hear that in her voice too. And even though it's not Kathryn's fault, she can't help but feel a crushing sense of disappointment. She hadn't thought she could feel any worse.

Kathryn breaks the hug – the first one to pull away for the first time in years. She holds Bay's face, and kisses her on the forehead. Bay senses Daphne approaching and sees her mother reach out for her other daughter. She steps back to let them hug.

'Is there any news? Is he still in surgery?' Kathryn asks eventually, as Daphne returns to her seat. Bay grabs her mother's hand.

'No news,' Regina answers. Melody twitches her lips in greeting to Kathryn, like she was going to force a smile and realized how false it would be.

They learn that Emmett was on Blue River Road when it happened; it was raining, and he skidded around a corner on wet asphalt and was hit by a speeding car. A combination of bad luck and bad timing. He was thrown off and hit the road, hard. The driver called an ambulance, and had already spoken to the police, who arrested him for reckless driving and endangerment.

His father and Olivia are driving in from their vacation in Colorado.

After a while, they all end up sitting in a row in the too-short plastic chairs in the waiting room. Bay has Daphne on her left side and Kathryn on her right – she holds Kathryn's hand, but it's Daphne she feels closer to in that moment. It's the same way it's always been between them. They may fight, and they may not always like each other, but when it comes down to it, they understand each other in ways nobody else can.

Daphne's eyes are red rimmed, and she seems constantly on the verge of tears. Just like Bay. The five of them sit and wait for so long that Melody's silent anguish and the nervous, fearful vigilance of their two mothers – who look up every time a door opens, or footsteps sound, because they need someone to come and comfort the daughters that they for once have nothing to offer – grows unbearable, and Bay finds Daphne's eyes and without speaking, they agree.

'We're going to get and get some coffee,' Bay says, surprised at the hoarseness of her voice as it forces itself from a throat tight from stress and trying not to cry. She stands up, and Daphne quickly follows. 'Mom, Regina, you want some?'

'Yes please –'

'No, thank you.'

She turns hesitantly to Melody, and taps her gently on the shoulder. Melody looks at her. There's no contempt, like in the early days of her and Emmett's relationship, or open dislike, like after he moved out and she had no reason to pretend. There's no authority or sternness in her face, no schoolteacher mask. She's staring right at Bay, but isn't really seeing her.

'Coffee?' Bay signs. Melody shakes her head and looks down again.

She and Daphne only go as far as around the corner, and then they sit at the base of the wall, away from the women whose inaction is shocking because they've always been able to fix things before.

Bay can't stop shivering. She thinks she might be in shock. Can that happen when the person you're in love with is hurt? Can you hate it so much that your body literally starts to fight back?

'I can't believe this,' she croaks; turned towards Daphne, who reads her lips and grimaces like the words hurt her. 'I know.'

She can't stop thinking about him. About what the hell he was doing out on the road in the middle of the night. About whether he was scared when the car hit him; whether he knew what was happening; if it hurt. She wonders if he wished she was with him; she wonders if she would have been, if she'd just been brave enough to let him in again – maybe he would have invited her along.

She swipes a tear away angrily.

Maybe she would have told him it was a stupid idea and he would have listened to her, and stayed home, and not gotten hurt – but maybe she would have been there too, and a million different things she might have done could have saved him. Maybe, at the very least, she could have been with him. She would take getting hit by the car as well, for that. She keeps imagining him lying on the road, hurt and bleeding and scared, with no one but the asshole who hit him, who couldn't talk to him in a way Emmett could understand, or do anything to help at all.

She keeps thinking about how hard Emmett has tried for her – all those times he'd say something that literally stole her breath because he never hesitated to remind her that he was still in love with her. God – most guys don't say that to girls they're with, let alone ones who turn them down over and over again, even for a good reason.

She keeps thinking about how happy she was when they were together, and how it only hurt so much when he cheated on her because it was so good. How she has only been so scared for so long because being hurt was so bad. You don't stay angry for so long about someone you don't truly still love. You don't feel sick about the possibility of losing someone you don't want so bad your blood sings with it. You don't find it so hard to forgive unless you know that forgiveness, for you, doesn't mean moving on, but going back.

She keeps thinking about the million moments together where she wasn't quite as brave as she wanted to be.

Before First 'I Love You'

They hadn't seen each other for two days; Bay was working on a painting. To this day, it's one of her favourites; an abstract oil piece, all made up of little flecks of bright colour like a Mexican embroidery, carefully formed to create the impression of a face peering intently outward; she'd been painstaking about the expression, to make sure it was clear that this mystery person – wide eyed and curious – was looking through something. Out through a window, or up through water, at something totally unfamiliar and… irresistible. Like someone who lives in the core of the sun, finally getting close enough to the edge to see the dark and beautiful other.

She goes into her own world when she's painting, and she had never shared it with anyone before. Not because she didn't want to, but because it was like trying to make herself grow taller. You can't make someone understand your art unless they just… do.

You don't get lonely when you're making art; you don't realize how much time passes without talking to people, or seeing them. It's kind of like being asleep; hours seem to pass in an eye-blink for you, but for the people who want to talk to you, who miss you when you're not there – for them it's just regular, ticking-by-the-second old time. Emmett had knocked on her door just as it was getting dark, and for Bay it was like waking up from a dream, to see him stepping into her studio, smiling that heart-thumping smile, glad to see her in a way no one has ever been glad to see her before. It's the first time she has ever not resented someone interrupting her in the middle of finishing a piece. Against her will, her art-obsessed heart drops what she's doing and proclaims loyalty to Emmett. She is in so much trouble.

'Hi,' he mouths, waving at her, walking over. He's a bit nervous. 'I hope you don't mind me coming over.'

'Of course not,' she grins, wiping her paint covered hands on a cloth. 'I missed you.'

She doesn't know when she got to the place where she misses him after two days apart, but it's true – she missed him. And his smile gets wider and she can see that he missed her too; that he came over even though he gets the art thing, that it's jarring to be disturbed, that after all, it was only a couple of days – he missed her. And God – being missed is the best feeling.

He stands off to the side of her painting, and gestures to it, eyebrows raised – May I? And Bay nods yes before she realizes what she's doing – that it's unfinished and imperfect – and her mouth goes dry when he moves around to stand in front of it. She expected a serious expression, contemplative – but the second he sees it his mouth falls open and he looks at her and – he's impressed. She beams.

'Bay, this is amazing,' he tells her. 'I can't believe you did this.'

'Really?' she asks – glad for once that he can't hear her voice, because it's squeaky. 'You think?'

'I do,' he grins. 'Wow. You're going to be so famous.'

She laughs. 'I live in hope.'

He gives her this look – like she's ridiculous to even doubt it, and he takes two steps towards her and kisses her, hands on her waist. And Bay is undone – Emmett is a great kisser on any day, but every now and then he will kiss her suddenly and it is in equal parts like being hit over the head and… like kissing. She reaches up and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him against her body, biting his lip, and he makes this great noise about it, and she shivers because she can do that to him. He smells of motor oil and grass; it's the sexiest thing she's ever heard of; she scrapes her fingers through his hair. She steps back and he follows her until her back hits a wall, hard; they break apart for a moment to breathe and he presses his lips against her collarbone, kissing his way up her neck – she laughs when it tickles and he thuds his forehead against her shoulder – he straightens up, amused, and signs 'You're not supposed to laugh.' But he's laughing too.

'I can't help it!'

He raises his eyebrows. 'You just like laughing at me.'

'Well, yes,' she admits, and snickers at his fake-affronted face. 'But also, I'm ticklish.'

'Sure.'

She pretends to be offended at his scepticism, and gets an idea.

'You just try and keep a straight face, then.'

She leans in and kisses his neck, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip; pressing her body against his. She feels him tense and smiles into his skin; she kisses higher and his hands go to her waist, holding her hard; she licks him and he laughs – she pulls back triumphantly.

'You cheated,' he signs.

'All is fair in love and war,' she shrugs, and shadows fall in his eyes – not like a nightfall, but like a door closing on two people in a room alone together, cutting out everything but the only thing that matters. His gaze pierces her, and Bay has nowhere to hide, her face an inch from his. She can hear her heart pounding – or maybe it's his. She hears his breath quicken. And though those eyes are sharp as glass, his expression is so soft. Raw. He won't pretend not to understand what she might be saying, because he wants it – she can feel that, in the ache of his hands on her, and in his picking up that one word in an otherwise innocuous phrase. In the look of him. He wants her to say it. He's hoping she might mean it. Fiercely.

And the words sit on her goddamn tongue. She thinks she does love him. It frightens her that he is always on her side; that he helped her try to find her father before they even knew each other, because he doesn't hang out with hearing people – so what did he see in her that was so different, and what if he was wrong? He chose her over Daphne – and nobody has ever done that before, ever – ever. So what if he changes his mind? What if she pisses him off, like she pisses off everyone, and he betrays her? She doesn't understand how his smile makes her smile, and how his language excites her, and how talking about art with him makes colours brighter and ideas a thousand times more real. How he can make her laugh with a gesture and make her head go quiet with a single expression. She feels like her body is more than a body when he touches her; even when he's almost touching her; even when she's just thinking about him touching her. And the idea of this ever being over is literally, physically painful.

'That's Frank Farleigh,' she whispers. She fingerspells it, even though they're so close he can probably tell her words from the feel of her breath, because she needs him to know that just because she can't say it doesn't mean she doesn't feel it, and sign language for her, like speaking is for him, is a kind of 'I Love You' in itself. Not as good as the real thing. But the best she has, for now – until she's a little surer, and doesn't fear that saying it will end in heartbreak.

Confusion registers before disappointment – he looks at her questioningly.

'All is fair in love and war,' she says. 'Frank Farleigh said that.'

And God – he gets it. He lets himself have a second to be crushed – she can tell – and then he just smiles at her. He doesn't say it, even though she suspects strongly in that moment that he does love her – he can't, because it would be a tactic to try and get her to change her mind and say it back. She recognizes that, in hindsight. He had refrained from saying it then because she wasn't ready – but they both kind of knew. And that's why, a few weeks later, when he asks if they will ever fall out of love, he says it like it's a given that they currently are.

Daphne taps her on the shoulder, and Bay turns her head.

'Do you know what he was doing out there?' Daphne signs, her expression carefully neutral. Bay gives her an incredulous expression, but she just raises her eyebrows, like – Yeah, I know how things are between you. But still, if anyone would know…

'No. I thought you might.'

She's envious of Daphne, that she's still someone Emmett might have told, or even invited. She'd thought maybe Daphne just hadn't wanted to say in front of the adults.

'I have no idea. I don't understand. He is a safe driver. This shouldn't have happened.'

They both fall into silence.

'I was mean to him the last time we spoke –'

'Don't,' Daphne snaps, her movements sharp. 'Don't go there.'

'I'm sorry,' Bay says, and she's furious at how shaky her voice is. Her fist circles 'sorry' on her chest and she keeps it there. 'I – what if –'

'He's going to be fine,' Daphne insists.

Technically, Bay is still mad at Daphne. She 'connected' with Noah when he was going out with Bay – and despite what everyone seems to think, losing Noah did matter to her. Okay, so she didn't like him as much as she pretended to, but he was on her side. He was someone with no baggage. He represented a new start. And then he went and got himself tangled up with Daphne, who let him, and suddenly he's Baggage City.

Selfishly, he had also been someone to hide behind. And losing him meant being out on a ledge.

But that's not the reason she's so angry – will probably still be angry, in the aftermath of all this, if Emmett's okay and she has the energy to feel anything at all. It's because Daphne let her think she'd found a home at Carlton and tried to rip it away. They are not okay.

But she is glad to have Daphne now, and she hopes Daphne is glad to have her. They take a minute – one more minute to hide from the women who need them to be strong, and to be strong for them – and then they go back to the chairs and wait some more.

It was roughly two in the morning when Daphne woke her up. It is 4:38 when a tall, white haired man in green scrubs comes out and approaches Emmett's people. Melody sees him the second he emerges from behind a far-off door down the corridor and bursts out of her chair, wild-eyed – Bay knows before she looks that this has to be the doctor, that this has to be news, and she stands up as fast as she can make herself, because her very bones are resisting the move towards someone who could tell her the thing that could shatter her forever. Her heart drums in her head, like it was cut out of her chest and put there. It shakes her vision. She feels her mother's fingers clinging to her wrist – to hold her up, to hold her back, she doesn't know. She stares at the doctor's face, tearing it apart with her eyes for some indication of… anything. But he looks only at Melody.

'Mrs Bledsoe, I'm Dr Jovey,' he says. He speaks slowly and deliberately, and Bay realizes someone has told him that Melody is deaf. 'I operated on your son –'

'How is he?' Melody snaps, her voice like lightning – Bay jumps at the sound of it. That rarely heard voice.

Dr Jovey glances around at the other people crowding around him, and clearly deduces that since Melody hasn't sent them away, she wants them to be here for this.

'The surgery went very well,' he said – and he even manages the hint of a smile.

Bay laughs. A blade of sound in the relieved murmurs of everyone else. The others are too busy listening to the doctor talk to look at her like the crazy person she is, and she hears as through water the man talking about the lack of internal bleeding, and how they've set his leg and realigned his shoulder, and how he's been taken to recovery, and he's expected to be totally fine – but Bay keeps laughing, and she's crying again, and she realizes she's not the only one. She and Melody laugh as the others listen. Melody can't hear her, but she can see her, and when she looks around at her son's loved ones to share her joy she sees Bay laughing just like she is and reaches out and grabs her hand.

'He's okay,' she half-screams, and Bay is so happy that she jumps forward and hugs her.

He's okay.

/ / / AN: This is the first chapter of a short story; a subsequent chapter or two are still to come. Things to be included are Emmett's perspective of certain things; what he was doing out on his motorcycle; and what happens when he wakes up.

I really do think Bay is just scared to trust Emmett again in the way she used to – I don't think she loves him even a bit less, and I really think she just needs something to shock her awake and make her take a risk. Bay is a lot more open about her feelings for Emmett in her head than she is outside of it.

I would love some feedback! Do you think everyone's in character? Is there anything you'd like to see Bay or Emmett's thoughts on? Please review with any comments you have about the story, and thank you for reading!