Emma sat backwards, straddling the leather seat of the bike, shoulder blades pressed against the handlebars. Carl was the opposite way, facing her. His hands rested on her hips, holding her steady on the currently stationary motorcycle, while she tugged gently on the color of his jacket, pulling him closer to her, still, with their lips pressed together, moving in synch with one another's.

The warm air of the impending summer surrounded them, as Emma drank in his kiss. A light breeze blew up her skirt, causing her to giggle against his lips, opening her mouth and gliding her tongue against his own.

"We should… really get… to work," Carl mumbled, in between Emma sucking and nipping at his lower lip.

"No…" Emma whined, drawing out the word, with her soft accent. "Just a few more minutes." She moved her lips to his jaw, trailing kisses down his neck, stopping to give extra attention to his pulse point.

Carl ran his hands up her back, slowly skimming his fingertips across the nape of his neck.

"Carl!" She exclaimed, her head involuntarily jerking backwards. "Don't ti-ickle me! I'm try… ing to…"

Emma let out a high pitched growl, and darted towards his neck again, but Carl leaned his head down to capture her lips with his own, in another passionate kiss they did not have time for. She laced her arms around his neck, tightening her hold on him, and closing the space between them. It was so easy for Emma to get lost in Carl—lose track of time; of where they were…

A car drove past their driveway, honking several times, causing them to pull apart.

"We really should go…" Her voice was soft, sweet, and full of regret. But they had all the time in the world. They could spend every waking moment together, if they wanted.

Carl ran a hand through her tousled, red curls. "Are you sure you don't want a ride, Ems?" He smiled, patting the small area of seat that was between them.

"No, no." She shook her head. "We'll go on a late night ride, tonight, okay? But I might be late, packing up my office. So, you come home and start dinner, or something."

"Can't wait." He leaned forward, pecking her lips. "I love you, Emma."

"I love you, too, Carl." She gave him one last, lingering kiss. "So much."

She hopped off the bike, and put his helmet on his head, typically swooning, as she watched him ride off, down the street.

XXX

Emma pulled into the school parking lot, wishing she could have accepted Carl's ride. She had gotten him the motorcycle, for his birthday, just a month back. Secretly, it had been a present for her, too. Because after the convertible, she loved the idea of riding against the wind, completely free, holding tight onto Carl, the entire way.

Her life had been carefree, like that, ever since she started dating Carl, a little over a year ago, and even more so, when five months ago, they moved in together. Her condo had not sold, yet, which made her a little nervous, but Carl didn't mind. And neither did she, as long as she was waking up next to him, every morning.

Confidently, she made her way into the building and down the hall to her office. After the morning she just had, her spirits were lifted and she was more than ready for what today had in store.

"Damn, Ms. Pillsbury! I sure wish I was that bike!" Karofsky shouted at her, from across the hall. She had been the target of the hormonal boy's taunting, ever since word of her 'hot dentist' boyfriend got around. It was pretty typical that he had been the one honking at her this morning. Lima was a small town, after all.

"I'm quite flattered, David. But careful… Wouldn't want to find yourself in detention for the summer, now would you?" she mocked. He simply grumbled, and sauntered off.

Of course, it was quite an empty threat. Emma was not about to hand out detentions on the last day of school. Besides, sitting at the school from nine until two was hardly how she wanted to spend her summer. Not when she would be busy with Carl, going canoeing, taking impromptu road trips down to Florida, or just spending the day in bed.

The last day of school was always a lovely one, but Emma simply could not wait for summer to begin.

XXX

The day went like any other, only with the elated feel of approaching freedom, along with the somber tone of goodbyes. But all Emma could do was embrace it.

As predicted, it took her about an hour after school let out for her to finally finish packing up. She had started a few days ago, and no longer felt the urge to pack her boxes based on a size, color, and alphabetical system, so it was far from terribly late.

"Okay, one more box…" she muttered to herself, lifting the one contained everything that had just been sitting on her desk.

"Need a hand?"

"Oh, Will!" Emma jumped, the contents of the box rattling, a bit. "You startled me a bit, there!" She laughed. "But, um, no, thank you. It's my last one, so… I got it." She shrugged, smiling at him, appreciatively.

She rested the box between her hip and the glass wall of her office, as to not look as if she was rushing him off, even if she was a little anxious to get to Carl, for their first evening of summer.

"Oh, okay, cool. Yeah, I just finished packing up the choir room, so it looks like we're both all set." He clapped his hands together and backed out of her doorway, towards the hall. "Have a good summer, Emma."

"Hey, Will…" she called after him. "Am I gonna see you at all, this summer? I want us to stay close friends, you know."

"Oh, yeah!" His face lit up, making her feel a little guilty. They had been through a lot in the past year, but Emma felt like they were finally in a good place. "Well, I know you'll probably be busy with Carl, and everything… So, why don't you give me a call, if you wanna get together?"

"You can count on it," she told him, smiling back.

"Alright, I'll see you around, Emma." He flashed her a wave, turning away.

"Thanks, Will. See you."

She lifted the box, again, trying to resituate herself, and grab her keys, in order to lock up. Just as she managed to get the one she needed in her hand, the phone rang.

"Um… Ugh…" She sighed, setting the box down on her desk, and picking up the phone. "Hello?" Already in summer mode, she had forgotten her typical McKinley staff greeting.

"May I speak to Emma Pillsbury?" a man's voice she did not recognize said.

"This is she…" She rattled her keys, impatiently. It was after hours, anyway. She just wanted to get home.

"I'm terribly sorry, ma'am. There's been an accident."

XXX

"I want to know what the hell is going on with my boyfriend!"

Emma rarely raised her voice or swore, but with tears streaming down her face and an aching chest, proper etiquette was the least of her concerns.

"Ma'am, could you tell me your boyfriend's name?"

"Carl! Carl Howell!" She slammed her palm against the desk. The receptionist hardly flinched, nor did she even look up from the computer screen. Surely, the woman had to deal with incidents like this very often, but all Emma could care about was making sure that her boyfriend was okay.

Because he had to be okay.

She was hardly aware of what was going on, as she was led down a hallway, towards Carl's ICU room. Her eyes were too tear-strung to even make out her surroundings and the ringing in her ears made it hard to see them.

"Ma'am? Ms. Pillsbury…?"

She wiped her eyes to find a doctor standing in front of her. Immediately, she hugged herself. They were standing a few feet away from the waiting room, down the hall from where she assumed Carl was. Feeling dizzy, it took her a few moments for the doctor to stop appearing in double. "Yes?" she peeped out, quietly.

"Ma'am, my name is Dr. Burstein. I'm terribly sorry… A car hit Carl's motorbike, on its left side. Not only was there the impact of the initial hit, but he was thrown from the bike, as well. Even with the helmet, he—."

"Tell me… my boyfriend… is alive… NOW," she growled, digging her nails into the sides of her arms.

"He's suffered massive head injury." The doctor paused, infuriating Emma, despite the man's look of compassion and sympathy. Emma did not want sympathy. Sympathy meant something was wrong. "He is alive. But we're afraid he's unconscious—in a coma."

Chills overwhelmed her entire body. He was alive. Carl was alive. "When is he gonna wake up?" she asked, in slightly more calm manner. He was alive, and that was all she needed to know. Of course he would wake up.

"We don't know…" Emma's eyes widened, as she stared at the floor tiles lying beyond both her and the doctor. His voice did not sound promising. "Unfortunately, there's just no way of predicting that, right now."

"I want to see him," she blurted, immediately. Carl was still there. He wasn't gone. She still had the one person she needed most.

"Well, you should know that Carl's state is still very—."

"Now!" she shouted, looking straight at him, raising the pitch in her voice, again.

She was led down the hall, into Carl's room. Only one nurse was still in attendance, and she exited alongside Dr. Burstein.

Carl was covered in stitches and bandages, and various limbs were wrapped up. His eyes were shut, and his face had fallen flat, the same way it did when Ohio State lost a football game. She teared up, simply at the thought, before even approaching him.

Wiping her eyes, she walked over to him, smoothing her skirt beneath her legs as she sat down in the chair next to his bed. She skimmed her fingers through his hair, silently willing his face to light up, the way it always did. Absolutely everyone who came into contact with Carl fell in love with his smile, but Emma had an appreciation for his eyes. They were the perfect shade of green, and when he smiled, they lit up more than his teeth could ever sparkle.

"Carl…?" Her voice was high-pitched, but scratchy, from the past hour of non-stop tears. "Can you hear me?" She watched him, in silence, for a few moments.

His completely unresponsive nature caused her to burst into tears. She latched onto his hand, squeezing it harder than she should any healthy person's. Her face was completely stained with makeup, but she rested her head against Carl's arm, while her shoulders shook, violently.

She stayed like that, not thinking about the time; not thinking about the nurses who were coming in and out to check on his heart monitor, and the countless other machines he was hooked up to. Every passing second, all she did was wait for Carl to regain his consciousness.

"Carl, you have to wake up, okay?" she said, lifting her head, looking at his face and imagining his eyes. "I need you. I know you've been trying so hard to make me stronger and better… And you have. But I need you. You're helping me be that person…" A few more tears fell from her eyes, hitting his arm. She wiped them away, softly. "What am I going to do without you?" She shook her head. "No. You have to wake up, okay?"

Carefully, she crawled onto the bed, situating herself next to him. She rest her head against his chest and draped an arm across his stomach. "I'm not leaving, until you do."

XXX

It felt wrong, being in the house without him. Not because she had ever been unwelcome, but because he had always been there with her.

As he should be.

She had stayed with him, for three days straight. She hardly slept, and when she could, it was only if she was safely tucked beneath his arm on the hospital bed. But the nursing staff finally convinced her to take a break, go home, and get some rest. She only agreed, because she wanted to feel up to focusing all her attention on Carl, again.

Emma threw her keys at the island counter, as her back slid down the door, and she drew her knees to her chest. Her entire body racked with violent sobs, until her eyes were blood shot, and she felt as if she was on the verge of passing out.

She lost track of how long she sat there. Nothing happened. Nothing changed. The only sound in the air was of her cries.

Running a hand through her greasy hair, she forced herself to stand, supporting herself with a shaky hand on the doorknob. For three days, she had been unable to leave his side; unable to care about not showering. Now, she felt absolutely repulsed.

After willing herself to take a shower, she pushed her way through the nightly routine that she had not followed in months. She had not forgotten it, though. It felt stable; secure. As she eased her way back into the structured behavior, her eyes dried and the shaking ceased. For the first time in the past several days, she had some control.

But once she turned out the light, and crawled into the big, empty bed, the feeling of hopelessness overwhelmed her, again. Once more, she lost herself in tears, burying her face into his pillow; aimlessly reaching out for his hand. She slept fitfully, for less than an hour at a time, only to be woken up by her own sobs.

Finally, she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to sleep. Because if he was not going to wake up, then she didn't want to, either.

XXX

By morning, she had completely lost track of the time. Emma did wake up, though, entirely unsure of what to do with herself. She and Carl had given up on alarm clocks, since moving in together, going off of auto-pilot during the week, and waking each other at random times, when they did not have work, ready to embrace whatever suited their fancy for that day.

Immediately, she went to take another shower—something she had not done, first thing in the morning, in months, unless Carl was joining her. The hot, steamy water instantly put her body at ease. As if this is what she was supposed to be doing, instead of running off to the beach or going out to get ice cream for breakfast.

Without Carl, none of those things made sense.

Even though it was already after eleven o' clock in the morning, she made breakfast. It was just some toast, anyway. She realized, though, that she could finish her morning routine and still be to the hospital at noon. Noon was a good time. She could visit him at noon, every day.

She would stay with him for a few hours, and then finally do the grocery shopping that should have been days ago. She would need less groceries…

She needed less of everything.

Emma sighed, gripping onto the counter, until her knuckles turned white. Their counter. Her and Carl's beautiful, marble counter. She would have to move back to the condo. The house was too big; too empty, without him.

XXX

She arrived at the hospital at exactly twelve o' clock. Last time, she had busted into the wing, an absolute mess.

No. Emma Pillsbury did not get messy.

"Ms. Pillsbury! Hi!" one of the nurses said, with a flustered tone. Emma had not wasted time learning their names. And surprisingly, they were all slightly afraid of her. But they should understand why she was behaving so neurotically, after all.

"Is he awake?" Emma asked, hopefully.

"There's been no changes… I'm really sorry."

Emma brushed past the nurse, and into Carl's room. He looked no different. No different at all. Perfect as always… but the life in him was gone. Everything that made Carl who he was had little to do with his appearance, and everything to do with his personality.

After setting her purse down on the table, she sat down next to him, holding onto his hand. She sat, silently, until the room was empty, with only just the two of them.

"Please wake up…" she whispered, the tears threatening her eyes, once again. She swallowed, hard, trying to hold herself together. She still had to make it to the grocery store, after all…

"Hey… I'm gonna stay at the condo for a little while, okay? Just until you wake up, of course." She wanted to let him know. She had gotten over the whole, 'talking to yourself' aspect, because she knew somewhere in there, Carl could hear her. He just had to.

She stayed there for three hours, never leaving his side. She didn't have much to tell him, but she reminded him how much she loved him; how much she missed and needed him.

"I'll plan to come tomorrow, okay? Same time. Just in case…" At three o' clock, she stood up, bending over to kiss his forehead. "But you're gonna wake up, Carl. You have to."

She had to keep that hope.

XXX

Life had become a routine, for Emma. Her plan to be spontaneous with Carl for the summer had gone entirely out the window. Now, she lived her life by structure, again. The only time she allowed herself to be real, or honest, or even emotional, was during those few hours a day, with him.

Each day, she slept in, praying her slumber would somehow bring her closer to Carl. But each day, she woke up, with just enough time to perform her morning routine and visit him in the hospital, at exactly noon.

They would visit for three hours, before she ran any necessary errands for the day, and returned back to her empty condo. Carl's entire nurse staff knew her routine to the tea. They knew quite a bit about her, in fact. For the past several months, they were basically the only people she came into contact with.

Except Carl.

"Hi, baby," Emma said, stroking his soft, dark hair. Once she started her routine visits, she requested that his shower took place before she arrived.

She slid her hand down his arm that was slowly beginning to lose its tone, and squeezed his own hand, tightly. Tears crept their way down her cheeks. She pressed her lips together, struggling to hold in her sobs. Looking up, focusing on the ceiling tiles, she forced all her shaking into one leg, tapping it viciously against the floor.

"I'm not going to be here at this time, tomorrow, Carl," she said, keeping her voice steady. "It's the first day of school. But I'll be here at three o' clock, okay, honey? I'll get everything done at work, so I can stay with you until six. It'll be exactly the same, I promise."

She climbed onto the small, hospital bed, and lay down beside him. Draping her arm across his midsection, she rested her head on his chest, allowing her breathing to match the steady beat of his heart monitor.

"I'm scared to go back, Carl. I'm scared, every single day I have to face without you."

XXX

Waking up early felt foreign; surreal. She'd had to set an alarm, and did not come out of sleep until the exact moment it sounded. She had forgotten what it felt like to exist at this time. She had spent those hours, searching through her dreams, for a glimpse of Carl.

Emma had fallen back into a structured life, full of pattern and routine. It had put her at ease. The only time she had felt comfortable breaking free from that, was when she was with Carl. Now, she just needed to feel safe, again.

She flattened the top layer of the hair, giving the ends of the bottom one a small curl. Last year, she had taken to flipping the ends of all her layers, or leaving them in loose curls, but she had not gotten anything more than a basic trim, in so long.

Summer had not escaped, just yet. It was still fairly warm out, even for the morning time.

Emma skimmed through her rows of sundresses, contemplating putting a cardigan over top of one of them, wearing it like she had to work, in the spring. Nothing seemed to suit her mood, however. She settled on her green pencil skirt and sweater.

That was always a safe choice.

XXX

Walking into the school, Emma was more nervous than she had been on her very first day of work. She felt paranoid, and it seemed like everyone was staring at her. She had not spent much of her summer in public, or around people, but she was still the same Emma.

Except the person she was becoming had taken ten steps back.

Rachel Berry was already waiting for her, when she reached her office. "Ms. Pillsbury, I've rank a list of my top ten colleges. Really, the bottom five is just a formality, but I like to keep my options open. I'm going to need distinct letters of recommendations for each school, which cater to their exact outlook on education."

The girl followed closely behind Emma, as she unlocked her office and made her way inside. Emma appreciated her personal space, especially whenever one of Carl's nurses would interrupt her time with him.

"I will also need very clear copies of my transcripts. Can you handle all this, Ms. Pillsbury? It's absolutely imperative to my future."

"I'll get to it, Rachel," she said, taking the forms from the senior and setting them on her desk. Of course she couldn't handle it, with everything else she had going on in her life. Time had become relative, to Emma, used only as a tool to structure her day and to think about just when Carl might come back.

"Well, I think I'm going to need everything completed by the first of September. I plan on applying early to one of my top five choices—though, I don't know how I'll ever pick just one of that—and I want to have everything else completely prepared."

Emma sighed, planning a dismissive bout of words, when she stopped to consider her options. Perhaps it would benefit her, to really throw herself into her work, this year. "I'm on it, Rachel. September 1st it is," she said, definitively.

XXX

Emma cautiously pulled out the containers separating the contents of her lunch. She found herself in a rather uncomfortable situation, sharing a round table with Will Schuester and Henri St. Pierre.

She was not ready for this. She was not in any condition for it.

"So, Emma…" Will asked in some tone that she could not exactly describe in her head. "How was your summer? I never heard from you."

"Oh, it was, um… Just… Fine," she stammered, nervously. She had forgotten about Will, entirely, over the summer, let alone taken the time to come up with some sort of explanation.

"I see," he said, nodding. "I thought you were planning to spend some time in Florida? I expected more of a tan." He chucked, in what seemed like an attempt to be sincere, or friendly.

"No, that never happened. I just… didn't really have the time for it." Of course, she had all the time in the world, but she never intended to go without Carl.

She never so much as left Carl.

"Oh okay. Yeah, you just look different, in general…" Will looked thoughtful, for a minute, then shook his head. "I don't know."

"Yeah," Henri piped up. "You got pretty hot, last year. My sober self was pretty aware of that transformation." Emma glared, slightly. "Sorry…"

"She still looks great," Will claimed. "But seriously, Emma. The lunch containers, too. You haven't been like this, since—. Hey, how is Carl doing?"

Emma froze, eyes widening as she focused in on the table, refusing to look up. She should have anticipated questions, or something. Literally everyone at the school, besides maybe the freshman, knew about her and Carl.

"He's, um… He's not… He's actually…" She stopped, unable to choke out anymore words, without the accompaniment of tears. And the last thing she wanted was to have a breakdown over this, at work.

"Oh… Oh, Emma, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…" He reached out to pat her hand, but she quickly pulled it away and starting putting her lunch back in its bag.

She knew he was assuming that he had broken up with her, and she had spent the summer mending a broken heart. She would rather let him formulate his own explanation, because it was easier than her attempting to explain the truth.

"No, it's okay. But you know what, I've got a lot of work today. College stuff… I think I'm going to get going. I'll see you guys around…" She sauntered off, as quickly as possible, thankful that the hallway was an empty witness to her tears.

XXX

School got out at two thirty, giving Emma exactly fifteen minutes, before she would need to leave, in order to get to the hospital on time. She decided to start looking at the forms for Rachel, to keep herself occupied, during that time. But within the first five minutes, she found herself growing anxious, unable to stop looking at the clock, anticipating a visit that would be even more hopeless than the last.

For the first time, outside of the privacy of the hospital room, or during the nighttime, while in her bed, Emma gave in, and allowed herself to cry.

Resting her elbows on her desk, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed, violently and loudly. She stayed like that, until she heard a knock and snapped her head up.

"Hey, Emma… I just wanted to say I'm so sorry—. Emma? You're crying…" He grabbed the other chair, and quickly moved it, to sit beside her. "Emma, you are still amaz—."

"Carl didn't break up with me, Will!" she shrieked. She had not behaved this way, since Carl was first admitted to the hospital. But going back to work had forced her outside of her routine that had been keeping her so stable, all this time. All she wanted was that security back.

"What… What happened, Emma? You can tell me…" Hesitantly, he placed a hand on her shoulder, but this time, she didn't pull away. She just sat there, fighting through the sobs, while he watched her, closely.

She attempted to steady her breathe, combating with her racing heartbeat. She had not told anyone, or barely even talked to anyone, the entire summer. She had not wanted to make it real. But now, she just wanted to make it go away.

"There was an accident… He got… hit… while on his motorcycle. Carl's been in a coma, all summer," she said, trying to keep her voice calm. But as soon as she tried to speak, again, it was back to a shrill, shaky cry. "He's never waking up, Will!"

He wrapped his arms around her and she instantly settled into his embrace. She cried violently, against his comforting shoulder. She had not admitted what she knew was true to anyone, before—not even herself.

Will just held her, gently stroking her arm, and whispering to her that it would be okay; that everything would be alright.

But it wouldn't… She glanced at the clock. Two fourty-six. "I should… I have to…"

"Shhh…" he whispered, rocking her, securely. She needed to go to Carl, but at this point, the idea terrified her.

Wrapping her arms around Will's neck, she held him, tight, because for the first time, since the accident, she finally felt safe, again.

A/N: I know it's a lot, but that was only the prologue! I hope you guys will stick with this! It's going to be a long, interesting journey.

Feel free to tell me what you think! I hope you guys enjoyed, and I can't wait to update. :)