Harry sat in the waiting room, his hands stiffly curved into fists as he waited for news. News on whether Ruth was alive or lying in the morgue. As soon as she'd got to the hospital they'd taken her into emergency surgery. They hadn't even asked if he was family. The terror and fear on his face made it clear enough that Ruth was important to him. No one was with Harry, and no one had told him what was going on with Ruth. He'd left Laura with Malcolm, simply because he couldn't introduce himself to his daughter when he was this distraught and tell her that her mother was dead. Plus according to him, the girl hadn't been able to stop talking and was getting on well with Malcolm.

Which is why it was a surprise when Malcolm walked into the hospital, clearly looking at Harry. "What? Why are you here?" he said, his voice cracking.

"You need someone to be with you," Malcolm said. "Laura's safe."

"Where is she?"

"Jo's looking after her," Malcolm said. "She took her to see the lights on the London eye. Laura couldn't look away. She's asleep right now on Jo's sofa. She's comfortable."

"Good," Harry said distractedly. "That's good." Malcolm sat down next to Harry, saying nothing. "God, I know it sounds like I don't care about her," Harry said. "I do. But I can't see her and tell her that I'm her father and her mother might be dying right now. I can't meet her like this. She'll probably hate me anyway."

"I understand," Malcolm said quietly. He was in no condition to meet his four year old daughter, everyone knew that. Which is why Jo was more than willing to look after her, telling Laura she was an old friend of her mothers. "Wash your hands."

"What?" Harry asked. Malcolm nodded downwards and Harry saw his palms were covered in Ruth's dried blood, making his hands stiff. He hadn't even noticed, and he still had blood on his shirt. "Will you…?"

"I'll wait right here," Malcolm said surely. Harry nodded and walked off, staggering, looking like he was drunk rather than emotionally drained. He waited for more than twenty minutes for Harry to return, and Malcolm guessed he was letting himself fall apart in the bathroom. When Harry came back his eyes were red rimmed from crying and he looked awful. Like he hadn't ate or slept in weeks. He sat down in silence.

"Malcolm, what if she…"

"She won't," Malcolm said.

"She was shot in the chest and the stomach," Harry said simply. "It's a miracle she was still alive when the ambulance came. "What if… she doesn't make it?"

"You will deal with that, when and if it happens," Malcolm said calmly. "But you're forgetting how strong Ruth is."

"True," Harry said. "Come on, she's been in surgery for hours."

"Which means she isn't dead," Malcolm reminded him. "If she were dead, they wouldn't still be operating on her."

"Yeah," Harry said. "Yes, you're right." So he sat there, waiting. Minute by minute, hour by hour. Until someone would bring him some news.


Harry hadn't been sleeping, but he had leaned back and stared into space, trying to save his energy when two surgeons approached him. "Just tell me she's all right," Harry said, sitting up. "I need to know she's okay. Please." Malcolm had stirred at the voices, and looked up at the surgeons who were still quiet. "No. Don't tell me… she's dead, you can't tell me that."

"She's alive," the younger one said. Harry let out his breath in pure relief. But Malcolm realised there was something they weren't telling them.

"What aren't you saying?" Malcolm asked. Harry looked at his friend and then back at the doctors. Their faces were grim.

"Okay, one of the bullets was dangerously near the aorta," the doctor started. "Obviously we had to remove it, but when we did she flat lined. We thought we'd lost her, but somehow we managed to get her heart beating again."

"That's good right?" Harry said. "Getting her back."

"Well, yes it is," the doctor said. "But her brain went without oxygen for several minutes. She is now in a coma. And… it's unlikely that she will ever recover from it."

"You're… I don't understand," Harry said, slowly, his brain not putting the dots together. "You're saying… that she isn't going to wake up?"

"Yes."

"Oh my God," Harry whispered, closing his eyes in horror. "She's… she's never going to recover?"

"There's a chance she might wake up," the doctor said. "We've done an MRI which shows minimal brain activity. It's not nothing, so there is a slim chance. But I don't want you to get your hopes up."

"Oh my God." Harry heard a roaring in his ears as the words started to permeate his brain. "I want to see her," he said, struggling to get the words to his mouth as tears filled his eyes. "I need to see her."

"Follow me." Harry did, his brain sluggishly working. He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that they were telling him she would never wake up. She would be in a coma for the rest of her life? No. Not his Ruth. Never. The doctor opened the door and Harry saw Ruth lying on her hospital bed, a tube down her throat. She looked like she was sleeping.

"Oh Ruth," Harry said, his voice breaking. She looked so small. "How can you say she's not going to wake up?" Harry said, sitting down next to her. He grabbed her hand and held it gently. She was warm to the touch. It seemed wrong that he could be told so callously that she was never going to awake, that he'd never see her smile again.

"There's always a chance," the doctor said. "I'm so sorry."

"No," Harry said softly. "You can't talk about her like that. Like she's dead and gone. She's not, she's here."

"I understand this is difficult…"

"Go away," Harry said calmly, looking at Ruth's face. "I don't need you to tell me… Just go away. Please." The doctor nodded and quietly closed the door behind him. Harry sat, alone with Ruth. There was a quiet regular beep on the machine to her right, recording her heartbeat. That was the only reassuring thing in the room.

"Come on Ruth, prove them wrong," Harry said quietly. "I know you. I know you're stronger than they believe. Wake up." Nothing. Harry kept his grip on her hand as he fell to pieces, crying over Ruth, lying simply in that small bed as if dead.

He was almost unaware of himself when the door opened, what must have been hours later. Daylight was now streaming through Ruth's window. He saw Malcolm there. "Harry, you have to go," he said quietly.

"I can't," he said, looking at Ruth's blank face. "I can't leave her."

"Laura needs you," Malcolm said. "She needs someone to care for her Harry. She needs someone to love her."

"I've never even met her," Harry said quietly. "She doesn't know I exist. And the first time I meet her and I'm going to have to tell her… tell her that her mother… isn't going to wake up? She'll hate me."

"She's four," Malcolm said. "Four year olds don't hate anyone, except other children that steal their chocolate." Harry let his mouth turn up in a slight smile.

"I don't want to leave her. What if she wakes up? Or worse, what if she dies? What if she dies and I'm not here?"

"I'll stay with her," Malcolm said. "If you want to be sure someone's with her. I'll stay with her."

"Okay," Harry said. "Call me if something changes. Anything. I need… to know."

"Of course I will," Malcolm said. Harry nodded. He leaned close to Ruth and kissed her cheek lightly.

"Don't give up," he whispered. "Fight it. But if you can't… if you're going to go, I swear I will keep Laura safe for you." He brushed a tear away from his eye and kissed her again. "I'll be back. As soon as I can be." He stood up and turned to Malcolm, who had tactfully avoided watching as he'd spoken to Ruth. "Where's Laura? Still with Jo?." Malcolm nodded. "Okay," Harry said. "I guess I have to… meet my daughter."

"I'll sit with Ruth," Malcolm said. "Go." Harry nodded and then left, feeling like his heart was literally split into two pieces.


The medical facts are completely made up for the purposes of this fic, so I apologise if they're vastly out of touch with reality. Hope you're kind enough to leave me a review, even if you hate me!