A/N: Written for the drabble meme at the puckrachel community on LJ.
Prompt:
"You can't do that."
"Watch me."
It's the phone call that changes everything. It's the phone call that leaves his heart racing like it's going to beat right out of his chest and fear ripping through him, fighting for dominance over the adrenaline that has him grabbing his keys and racing out of the house.
It had been six months; six months of silence, six months since she'd walked out the door with her suitcase in tow, six months since he'd fucked up royally. It all started with a fight, it was the worst fight they'd ever had, but it clearly wasn't about anything that fucking important because he can't even remember why they were fighting but he damn well can remember the hell he's been living in for months.
But right now he doesn't care, she's hurt and he wasn't there to protect her, and that's what's killing him. It's the longest 22 minutes of his life, that drive to the hospital and all he can think about is all the things they haven't done together. He can't lose her, not before they've really lived, not before she's really lived.
Because getting a call at 11:06 PM saying that your wife has been in a car accident and is in surgery is by far the worst feeling in the world.
He gets to the hospital in a far worse temper than when he left the house. Because really, how could she walk away? How could she spend the last six months pretending they'd never said those vows? If she survives, I'm going to smother her with a pillow, he thinks as all the anger and betrayal of the last half of a year wash over him.
And then he's falling apart, because she has to survive, it can't be finished for them already. He slides down the wall just inside the emergency room doors, swiping angrily at his face and trying desperately to fight back the tears.
He manages to pull himself together when the surgeon tells him that Rachel is through surgery and while she's not completely out of the woods yet, the surgery was a success, and that they stopped the bleeding.
While he's sitting in her room, waiting for her to wake up he finds himself thinking back to that night six months earlier. He's still kicking himself, because they were just having a stupid fight probably over something ridiculous like him eating in the living room, but he was the one that walked out first. He left and went to the closest bar and drank himself into a stupor. By the time he had been sober enough to go home it had been the morning, and Rachel was waiting on the front step, two large suitcases and her purse sitting next to her.
"I'm done, Noah," were the only words she spoke before packing her things into her Hybrid and driving away.
The whole stupid thing was his fault and he's so fucking angry with himself for making her walk away, and with her for walking away that he doesn't notice her open her eyes slowly.
"Noah?" she whispers hoarsely. He grabs the plastic cup of water and lifts the straw to her lips. She gulps it down quickly, licking her lips slowly when he pulls away to place the cup on the table next to her. And fuck, she's so hot and gorgeous and he was so worried about her.
She doesn't understand why he's here. Sure they were still marries, and she's missed him every day since she walked away, but she left for valid reasons. They were fighting all the time, over trivial things, and she'd reached her breaking point. She appreciated his obvious concern, but she didn't want him here, because then she just might forgive him, and she's just not ready to do that yet.
He spends the entire day at her bedside, making sure she's not in any pain and helping her drink water and being generally amazing and she can feel her resolve wavering.
It's only when a nurse comes in that night to tell him that visiting hours are over and suggests he heads home that she remembers how pig-headed and stubborn he can be.
"That is my wife, in the hospital after a major surgery, and you're telling me to leave? he yells, She's my wife, and I'm staying, deal with it"
"You can't do that", she shouts, louder than she planned.
He just smirks, quirking his eyebrow in that smug way she hates, and God, he could be so annoying (and endearingly loyal).
"Watch me," he replies as he sits back down in the chair next to her hospital bed and crosses his arms.
The nurse leaves the room with an annoyed look on her face and Rachel turns to look at Noah, who's expression has changed from stubborn to worried. He's gnawing on his lower lip and rubbing his palm across the back of his neck the way he does when he's anxious.
"She's probably gone to get security – "
"Look Rach, I'm sorry – "
She looked at him with an amused smile on her still scarily pale face and gestured for him to continue. He hated giving these embarrassing speeches, but he just wanted her back, they were supposed to be together.
"I'm sorry, I really am. I'm sorry for all the stupid habits I have that upset you, and I'm sorry that I can't change them. But you're my wife and I love you and we're not supposed to be like this. And I know, I know I screwed up by staying out all night drinking, I regret it more than I can say, but did you really have to walk away? Did you have to ignore me for six months? We could have, should have worked this out right away."
He wrings his hands together in his lap, more nervous than he's been since he was chasing after her back in college. Fuck this feeling sucks.
He knows he's got her though, when she gives him a teary smile and grabs his hand while she whispers, "I'm sorry, too."