Good Lord, this one's a doozy. I loved all of the reviews on the last chapter, it brings me such joy to see people enjoying my work. Thank you a million times over. Good luck and grab your tissues. :)

I was sitting in the waiting room, tired of pacing, tired of sitting, on edge, I checked my phone again, it had gone off consistently. I had a new text, this one from Hercules. I smiled at my phone and read the message.

Hey, bud, I'm pretty sure my lovely husband has been… himself, and you probably want for nothing… except maybe to be left alone, sorry about that ;) but if you need anything you can call me.

Thanks, Herc, I'm sorry we kidnapped Lafayette. We're lucky to have you guys.

No sweat, man. I knew from the jump I was marrying John as much as you were marrying Laf. They're a packaged deal. Keep him as long as you want. I'm in LA this week, gives him something to do other than pester me.

Oh, shit, that's this week isn't it? Good luck with the shoot! You'll have to tell us about it when you get back.

Will do, hang tough, Ham.

I pocketed my phone and continued to wait, sliding deeper and deeper into the chair, now nearly a dozen cups of coffee in and too jittery to focus on anything but the clock and the hole I'd torn in my lip.

"Mr. Laurens?" a woman held a clipboard and looked around the waiting room.

I stood, and crossed the room to her, "I'm his husband."

Her eyes and lips were too big for her heart shaped face, "Mr. Laurens, your husband is out of surgery, everything went very well, the tear in the meniscus was repaired as well as some damage that we found in his ACL, we also replaced a pin that was damaged."

"Can I see him, please?" I begged.

"He's out of recovery, but we've moved him to the ICU, since the surgery was much more extensive than we anticipated and he was put under more anaesthesia to keep him under for the duration of the surgery and we're having some trouble getting him to wake up."

"Is he… in a coma or some shit?" I blinked, trying to make it make sense.

"We're not comfortable using the term coma until twelve hours post-op, but he is still under, the good news is that he's breathing on his own with healthy stats, we have every reason to believe his body is just working through the trauma. At this point it's a matter of beat the clock."

"If I suspect even an ounce of foul play so help me God, I'll shut this whole hospital down." I clenched my fists.

"Sir, I understand you're upset, we have lawyers and social workers on staff if you feel the need to discuss anything that I've talked with you about."

"No, lady, I am the lawyer," I remembered what this was about and the fight in me dissipated, "just, please let me see him."

"Right this way, sir."

I followed her through the maze of the ICU floor and to his room, she left me alone. John looked peaceful in repose. His knee was elevated on a piece of foam, the skin around the bandages stained with iodine. I pulled the chair up to his bedside and sat beside him, not noticing the woman leave. I took his bandaged hand in mine.

"Hey," I kissed his knuckles and ran my cheek over the back of his hand, he smelled like hospital, "you get to wake up now… it's over."

His heart monitor beeped steadily, his heart rate in the sixties. I followed the IV lines from his hand to the hanging bag of fluids. He didn't look right, his face too slacken, not the dopey grin he kept while he was asleep, not even the tense face when he had nightmares, just blank. I concentrated on the slow rise and fall of his chest. I rested my temple against his hip and stared up at his chest, the metronome of his slow breaths lulled me.

'He looks so hot in those silly clothes.' John was basking in the sun in a clearing in a ridiculous get up, a long blue woolen coat with dramatic golden epaulettes and shiny brass buttons adorning it, a linen cravat done up to his throat, and tan riding pants that showed off his muscular physique. I watched him take a shaky breath and stand up from the edge of a slow moving river. He untied a horse from a nearby tree and rubbed its nose, pecking a quick kiss on the animal, 'that's my John, so loving, so sweet.' He mounted the horse and rode confidently to a group of men in similar, though less dignified dress. I tried to place myself in the scene, it was like watching from an empty movie theatre. There were pops in the distance, John straightened his back and threw a fist over his head, "let's go!" he shouted to the other men as a scourge of eye-gouging red-dressed men poured over the lowlands of the river bank. More pops, gunfire, shouting in a whirl all around him. Another pop, so loud, so loud my ears rang, John's face twisted in shock as a blossom of blood blackened his white shirt, he fell from the horse. 'No! No no no no no! John!'

I panted and sat up with a start, John was still sleeping in his hospital bed, in a gown, not some silly, kind of sexy, military get up. His lips looked more chapped than they had earlier, the clock on the wall revealed that three hours had passed. I straightened my glasses and wiped my face with trembling hands, shaken by the dream. I re-tied my ponytail and rummaged in the bag we'd taken for the lip balm he always kept in the side pocket and smoothed some over his lips.

"You ready to wake up?" I traced the freckles over the bridge of his nose, anticipating the crinkle of his features that he always made when I did that. Nothing.

"Okay, John, but, you really need to get up now."

I checked my phone, a deluge of missed texts and calls. I updated Lafayette and Eliza and Martha and leaned back over the bed, pressing my forehead to John's hip, placing his heavy hand on the back of my neck, his skin was so cool and clammy. I sighed and worked my lip against my teeth.

"Eliza, what are you doing here?" I sat at my desk, low lit from only the lamp, she held an envelope. She put a hand on my shoulder. "There's a letter from South Carolina." I made a face at her, "that's weird, John wouldn't write me a letter, he's just on vacation." I chuckled and brushed her off, turning back to my writing. "It's from his sister," she told me, something off in her voice. "Hmm, okay, go ahead and read it to me?" I flipped to a new page in the notebook and continued writing. "John Laurens was fatally killed in an accident, he's buried here until you can send for his remains, he leaves behind his husband and child-" I cut her off and tilted my head, "what? That doesn't make any sense." She held my cheek, "Alexander, are you alright?" I pushed her hand away, "he's not…"

Again, I roused, was he dead, where were we? Nothing made sense. I stared at him in the hospital bed, still sleeping as consciousness took over and reminded me of where we were and what had happened. Another two hours had passed, five down, seven to go. I scooted the chair back loudly, the scrape on the linoleum made a ricocheting sound through the quiet, dark room. I paced back and forth around the bed.

"Wake up, John. I'm going to go get some coffee. It would be great if you were awake when I got back."

I called Lafayette as I made my way toward the coffee machine in the waiting room, I could barely hear him over Philip in the background, "is that my daddy? Can I talk to my daddy?"

Lafayette held the phone away, "just a minute, it's your papi, just let grown ups talk for a second."

Philip's exasperated huff in the background made me smile, Lafayette was back on the line, "hi, sorry. Is he awake?"

"Still nothing." I sighed, filling my cup.

"Merde." Lafayette sighed.

Philip gasped in the background, "bad word!"

"He knows French, Laf." I chuckled.

"Shit. I mean, ugh, gah, uh, da, uh, mon dieu." Lafayette was flustered, it was endearing.

"It's fine, he lives with me, he's heard it before."

"Should we come up?"

"No, not yet, I don't want Philip to see him like this, not until… not if he doesn't have to."

"Okay, say the word."

"I will. Can I talk to him?"

"Of course. Mon petit, your papa would like to speak with you." He shuffled the phone.

"Hi papi!"

"Hi hijo. How was school."

"It was pretty good, we learned about the colour wheel and mixing colours, but I said, 'I already know all of this, 'cause my daddy's an artist,'"

"That's pretty cool, my smart boy. I miss you."

"I miss you, papi, when can I come see daddy?"

I let out a breath, "well, hijo, your daddy is so so tired today, because he had to have surgery, they fixed his knee."

"Fixed it all better? Now it won't say, 'pop pop pop pop!'?" The sound reminded me of the gunfire in my dream and I shook the thought loose.

"Well, it's probably still going to make that noise. That noise just says, 'hey, there used to be an ouchy here.'"

"Like your 'pop pop' wrists?"

"Mhm, just like that."

"Well, can you tell daddy to wake up? 'Cause I really want to see him."

"I'll do what I can, hijo. I love you."

"I love you, too, papi."

"Be super good, okay?"

"I will." He handed the phone back to Lafayette.

"I'll call you." I told him and we hung up.

When I got back to John's room he was still sleeping, I stared at Philip's dinosaur on the bedside table, it stared back at me in cold plastic.

"Alright, John. That's enough. This is just getting silly." I rolled my eyes and stared at him.

"John, come on, my love. Your son is asking about you. Our baby wants you." I sat back down and took his hand.

I watched him in silence until the five hour mark and stood up to continue my pacing, lecturing him about anything that popped into my head, mostly building a legal case against the hospital.

Four more hours to go.

"Fuck you, then." I waved a hand in his direction and crossed my arms.

"How dare you? How dare you, Jack! You make me love you, you fix me, we have a good life, we have Philip. So how dare you?"

I paced to the other side of his bed and gripped the handrails, peering down over him, small and fragile, "fuck you, John. Fuck you," my breath caught and tears rained down my face, I pawed at my face with my sleeve, "fuck you... I love you. Don't fucking do this. Please, please... I love you. I need you, querido. Te necesito... Te necesito."

I sniffled and crossed his bed again to take my seat, "please, please, mi vida, please."

I pulled my glasses off and wiped my face.

Three hours to go.

I took his hand in both of mine and bent over his bed, "God, please. Just let me keep him. I need him. Our boy needs him. Not for me. I know I don't deserve him, I don't deserve this life, I know I've failed time and time again, but for Philip. Please, God, for him. Amen?" I'd forgotten how to pray, and wasn't sure if I said it out loud, almost sure that my prayers would be met with indifference.

Two hours to go.

I stood over him, twisting the curls that framed his face, running my fingers over the shell of his ear, down the angle of his jaw, across his collarbones, craving all of the beautiful places on his body. Wanting to hold him… even more wanting to be held by him. I saw his eyes dance beneath their lids saw his fingers twitch.

"John?"

He rasped and cleared his throat, "Alex?" His eyes refused to open.

"I'm here, John. I'm here."

"My… my mom's not here, right?"

"No amante, she isn't."

"Mmm, right, she's… she's dead," he cleared his throat, his voice was so raw, his tongue poked out to wet his lips, "I dreamt about her… she loved you." There was the grin, dopey, happy, my John.

"I don't know about that. I had some weird fucking dreams, too… all about you." I felt tears build behind my eyes.

He showed all his teeth in a wide grin, his dry lips getting stuck on them, his eyes finally fluttered open, "jeez, Alex, why are you so obsessed with me?" He poked his tongue back out at me.

"You ass," I drug my thumb across his lip and he pecked a kiss on the digit, "you scared me."

"All good in the hood," his eyes narrowed, more memory coming back, "can I walk?"

"Far as I know. You haven't tried it or anything, too busy making your husband lose his fucking mind, but they said it went well."

He nodded and winced, "hurts."

"Yeah, I bet, it was a lot worse than they thought."

He blew out a breath and squinted his eyes shut, "this sucks. My stomach feels super great by the way." He blew out another breath.

"I know, I know, shh," I held his head against me, "I'll get the nurse. Your night nurse is actually decent, checked on you a few times."

"Is it late?"

"Yeah, it's like two in the morning."

"Pip's asleep." He remarked.

"Hope so. You'll see him tomorrow, he was asking about you."

He nodded and swallowed before another slow exhale, I got the nurse and went back to his side while she went to retrieve his drugs.

"Have you eaten?" John asked me, Christ, almost in a coma and immediately he's taking care of me. I smiled at the thought, meant he was okay.

"Yesterday, had… breakfast? Yeah, that sounds about right."

"Go home, snuggle our baby, eat, take a shower, sleep in our big bed, I'm okay."

"I don't want to leave you."

He cleared his throat, "I'm just gonna sleep, sounds like you've watched me do enough of that today. You creeper." He smirked, his breathing more laboured as the pain settled back in.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, and you know, if you get a wild hair, you can send me some dirty pictures of you waiting in our bed for me.."

"You don't even know where your phone is, it's probably dead."

"I'm just saying." He whispered.

"I like morphine John, he's fun." I kissed his head.

"You'll be here tomorrow?" He asked.

"Bright and early, we can come before Pip goes to school."

"He has the, um, the science fair next week, you need to bring um, damn, I don't remember, I'm sorry, he needs something for it."

"I'll slip a twenty in his backpack, let his teacher figure it out."

John grinned and the nurse returned with a new bag of morphine. I kissed his dry lips and sighed peacefully - with a hint of exhaustion - as I crossed into the night air.