Coffee in one hand, the other grasping on to Tracy, she walked forward into the room. The steady beeping and whooshing noises cloud her mind and seem to close in upon her immediately. Tracy moves instantaneously, pulling a char out of nowhere and taking the coffee out of her hand before pushing her lightly into the seat next to the bed. The hard cracked plastic would seem uncomfortable to some, but her only focus is the mass of tubes and wires sticking out of Sam's chest. She whimpers, and reaches her hand shakily out towards him before folding back around herself. Another chair scraps across the floor as Tracy sits next to her. She wraps her hand around Andy's and takes a sip of her coffee. The scene is all too familiar to her. This is the same position they sat in after Jerry died. Andy seems to sense this too, and shifts in her chair until their arms are twisted as well as their hands. It may be uncomfortable, but Tracy thinks, different arrangement, different outcome. Losing someone you love is one of the things you wish on no one, and especially not your best friend.
The doctor comes back in to check the machines, and updates them with medical jargon they barely understand. A nurse comes in to inform them of visiting hours, and Tracy slides both hers and Andy's badge onto the table and clears her throat softly. The nurse smiles and leaves the room.
Lunchtime rolls around, but neither of them move. Around one Dov practically stomps into the room, placing leftover Chinese on the table.
"Figured you'd be here," he says plopping into the chair across the bed, "Chloe's awake. I talked to her."
"What happened?" asked Tracy, sensing Dov's hostile mood.
"That…that bastard of a husband was abusing her. Hitting her. That's why she left 27. But she never told anyone so no one knew. She woke up and freaked out when she saw he was here. They had to sedate her." He places his head in his hands, looking no better than Andy, who was still staring glassy eyed at Sam same as she was five hours ago.
"Oh my god." Tracy's voice showing horror at the situation as she thinks of small, harmless Chloe being abused.
"Frank arrested him; he's taking him back to 15. I just…I just wish she'd told me. She was so scared." With that Dov rose and exited the room, again pointing to the Chinese food on the side table.
"You should eat, "He said, and then was gone.
Tracy turned back towards Andy, placing her hand over her arm, but Andy didn't seem to feel it.
"Andy," she spoke in the same soft voice, "Andy you should eat."
"I'm not hungry." Her voice sounded out of the hollow depths of her soul, quiet but firm. She turned away from Tracy's comforting hand and pulled her knees up to her chest.
Tracy sighed as Andy pulled herself closer together, and picked up a takeout box. After eating a few pieces of the chicken inside, she silently placed the Chinese food next to Andy's untouched coffee on the table.
Her phone beeped from her side, and she checked it, sighing at the message requesting her return to 15.
"I have to go back" she said to the unmoving form of Andy, who did not respond, nor did she respond to the comforting hand on her shoulder. Sighing, Tracy got up, making a mental note to ask the nurses to check on not only Sam but her every couple of hours if they could.
…
Dov sat beside Chloe's hospital bed. Since waking up, she had been able to change into sweats and a sweatshirt, and now lay under the thick blankets looking no bigger than a child. It made Dov's insides burn to think of what she had been through. He was so wrapped up in his anger that he didn't notice the pair of brown eyes peering out at him for under the covers. When he finally noticed her staring, he tentatively reached out his hand. She took it with no hesitation, pulling him do he was next her, and shifted her weight so she was leaning on him.
"I'm not scared of you."
"I know" he answered letting out a breath, "But I don't want you to be scared of anything."
"I'm not. Not with you here."
He smiled and leaned down to kiss her forehead.
He pressed his lips to her forehead and closed his eyes. "Then you're never going to be scared again."
…
The beeping had grown steadily louder in her ears. She was pretty sure it had been so long sitting there that her heart beat was matching the beat of the machines.
Soft footsteps approached from behind her. The squeak of wheels positioned itself next to her chair.
"McNally," Oliver's voice floated up beside her as Celery sat down in a chair on the other side of his wheelchair.
She looked at him with broken eyes. He pulled her as best he could into his arms. She sat there shaking, too far past tears. Oliver stroked her hair.
Celery silently rose from her chair and crossed over behind Andy. Rubbing her back, Andy slowly stopped shaking. Kneeling beside her, Celery passed the takeout box to Andy, who slowly pulled it towards herself and began to eat. They stayed like that, Oliver holding her, Celery rubbing her back until she had finished eating.
A nurse came around, and told Oliver that he better return to his room.
Celery rose and took her position behind Oliver's wheelchair. Oliver leaned over to kiss Andy's forehead and lay a hand on hers as he was pushed from the room.
"You're some kind of miracle worker," he murmured to Celery as she led him back to his own room. Celery smiled in response.
…
Hours later, Tracy steps back into Sam's hospital room armed with more clothes and several bags filled with takeout boxes and drinks. Her eyes rove over Sam motionless in the hospital bed and land on Andy, still curled up in the same position, though thankfully, asleep. Tracy carefully places the boxes down on the table on the opposite side of the bed as Andy, as not to wake, and occupies the chair there. Twenty minutes later, Andy eyes fly open and she shuffles her chair back with a gasp.
"Nightmare?"
Andy settles her chair back next to the bed, eyeing the bag on the table. Her eyes shift so she's looking at the ground.
"Yeah."
Wordlessly, Tracy passes the takeout boxes and water over to her. Andy takes it gratefully, and demolishes the food, surprising Tracy.
"How are you feeling?"
Andy's eyes go to the ground, but then meet Tracy's holding her gaze.
"I don't know. Okay, I guess. I just- I don't know what I would do if he died, Trace, I don't know.
"Hey, He's not going to die."
"Then why hasn't he woken up yet?"
The question comes out as a shout, startling both of them.
"I'm sorry Trace, I didn't mean to shout."
"It's okay."
Before Andy can answer, another voice joins the fray.
"Maybe it's okay for you, but not for the guy with the killer headache who just got shot in the side."