A/n Okay so I just finished The One and a vicious little plot bunny decided to pop into my head and tell me not to sleep. So I wrote this, suck it plot bunny. It takes place in the second book. I wanted more America whump and I wanted to see Maxon react to that. I hope you enjoy it, please review. I know its different from most things I write but I really worked hard on this.

I saw the rebels before I heard them, that was an odd occurrence, most of the time the alarms sounded. But this time they had found a way into the palace. I looked for the signs of Southern rebels, praying to god that it was the northerners but no such luck. I looked at one of them carrying a gun, ripe with blood splatters, Gun shots fired everywhere. I was frozen but something deep inside me, an ache told me to fight, willed my legs to move. I ran, I pumped my legs harder and harder, all through the palace, my legs burned, my chest heaved, my vision was becoming spotty, I was losing endurance. But still I ran, I ran until I ran into something, hard. I flew backwards, the person I had flung into still holding their ground. I willed the dizziness to go way and regained my vision finding myself staring into a gun. It was a Southerner; he smiled wickedly, the dazzling smile fazing me for a bit. I wanted to scream but he held me there, his blue eyes locking onto mine. I shook my head, he was charming and he knew it, using it against me to his own advantage. I stood up, trying to catch him off guard but he swung the pistol around, landing a blow to the side of my head. Fireworks exploded in my vision and I cried out. Not wanting to feel the harsh ground catch me but, fortunately, I was long gone before I hit the ground, before Aspen took out the rebel and before Maxon turned the corner, looking for me.

"America." A voice pleaded, it was deep and familiar, like rich honey on a homemade biscuit

I wanted to touch the person who had that voice, I wanted to sing to them to make them feel special. But a part of me knew that I already had sung to that person, that I did know him. Him? Hmm, maybe my brain was working in my own part. I tried to talk, tried to tell them that I was okay, that all I needed was for them to keep talking. For their voice to flow over me, healing my headache, healing the burning that I felt behind my eyes. Instead, I groaned, which was enough for the person because the continued.

"America, please, open your eyes." It cried, shaking my arm, only to let it go limp again.

I sighed, I didn't know who was talking but I didn't want them to sound so sad. I turned over only to have my heart burst into dazzling flavors of pain. I whimpered and suddenly there were hands on me, soothing me, running up and down my back. A beeping close to my heart beeped faster, more frantically and I wanted it to stop. Any fight in me that I had to try and see the man behind the soothing voice was gone, and once again I let the soothing tide of unconsciousness pull me away.

I sucked in a deep breath and blinked open my eyes, shooting up in the bed. The rebels were here, they were by me, I had been running. I was confused, I had been in the palace hallway, brilliant drapes surrounding massive windows and elegant stairs close enough for me to reach. That last memory did not match with the white walls and cotton sheets. Didn't match to the heart monitor and the mask fitted over my face. I sighed, my brain finally deciding to fill me in on the events, on the pistol whipping. The curtain flung back suddenly and I whimpered, sinking into my sheets and preparing myself to find my prediction wrong, that the rebels really were still in the place. But it was just Maxon, he was reading and I sat up straighter. He looked older than before, his golden locks ruffled and messy and brown bags filled the space under his equally brown eyes. He was sadly smiling at the book and I couldn't help but wonder what he was reading that made him happy and sad.

"Maxon?" I asked, my voice muffled under the mask.

He started, dropping the book and looking at me, frightened. I was afraid he was going to run away, realize that he had accidently walked to the hospital wing. But he just ran over to me and flung his muscular arms around my shoulders. I sucked in a breath, it was down to the Elite now and he had spent a lot of time with Kriss. I had wondered more than once if he had forgotten about me, that he didn't care about me. But when he pulled back, I knew that his heart ached, that he had a desire to want me, to need me and that he loved me. I knew because I felt it pull at my heart too. It wasn't like with Aspen, we fell in love like being shot. Quick and surprising, but after it happens, you know that you will be in pain of you ever leave them, and when they do you don't know what to do. But with Maxon it was a slow burn, a fire building and building until it could withstand stormy arguments, icy tones, and full sized tears.

"You're awake." He whispered, almost as if he was afraid that I would break if he talked to loud.

"I am." I smiled, letting the brightness of it shine through the oxygen mask I had failed to remove.

"I was so afraid, America. You… you almost died. I missed you; it hurt me to see you hurt. And when you crumpled to the ground, I thought you did die. You had a seizure; it was almost too hard for me to carry you to the safe room." He blurted, tears filling his milky amber eyes.

"I'm so sorry Maxon." I apologized, not that it was my fault, but I felt bad that he had to witness that, that he had to see me like that. "I didn't know that we made it to the safe room." I admitted.

"I know you were still unconscious even after you stopped convulsing. I think you horrified the other girls too." He said, his eyes haunted, remembering the horrible hours stuck in the safe room most likely.

"How long?" I croaked out.

"A week, the doctors were losing hope that you would ever wake up." He went into that impossibly quiet voice again.

"When did you come and plead for me to wake up?" I asked, horrified at the answer but yet knew that I had to find out.

"That was 2 days ago, when they told me that you were holding your own but still in a coma. I thought it had worked. You know you are such a tease sometimes." He smiled, the mood lifting just at the fact that conscious or not I was the same impossibly stubborn, and tauntingly different redhead he had met that first day.

"Maxon?" I giggled.

"Yes." He responded moving closer, his mouth so close to my ear his breath felt like a thousand hummingbirds.

"I love you." I admitted, knowing that now was the moment that I had to say it.

"I love you too." He replied, pulling the mask off and kissing me deeply. I smiled through the kiss, knowing that here or not, and conscious or not, he would always love me and I would always love him.

A/N Did you like it? Please review. BTW I was totally Team Maxon the entire series. Never wavered.