Author's note: I could not believe the overwhelming response I got to the last chapter. You guys didn't actually think I am gonna let Max and the as yet unnamed Cale child die do you? *L* Well, apparently you do. Read and find out. Warning to all shippers: This is still a Romance, but it's got Drama and Action/Adventure too; there's some angst ahead...don't say I didn't warn ya. The characters are not mine, but I think I do a better job with em than the owners do. :) Anywho, read and enjoy...AND REVIEW! I love getting em! Thanks also to everyone who emails me separately. Your interest is gratifying. Hey, Callie,...wanna be my first beta reader? You'll get advanced dibs on what happens in the stories...email me and let me know.
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One week.
That's how long it had been since Logan's world came thundering to a standstill.
Logan could vividly recall the paramedics strapping a twitching Max to the stretcher, inserting IV's and administering drugs. They had stabilized her and transported his wife to the same hospital Logan had been in after the shooting. Life and Fate were not without their twisted senses of humor. As a standard, post-Pulse policy (and, as with everything post-Pulse, it was the complete opposite of what had been before the Pulse), family members were not allowed to ride along in the rig. Logan remembered standing in the street, watching the ambulance speed away. He remembered Bling pulling his car around and driving him to the hospital. He remembered paging Original Cindy and Kendra. He remembered Max's Ob/Gyn finding him in the waiting room and giving him the news.
Logan stood there for a long tie. He could hear Kendra sniffing her nose. Bling came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Let me take you home."
"No."
Logan's voice was gruff, and thick with emotion.
"Boo," Cindy said gently, quietly, her eyes red rimmed, standing in front of Logan. "You should go home and rest."
"No!"
Logan's voice reverberated throughout the room, echoing off the glass walls and smacking him in the face. His eyes filled with tears. "I want to stay with them." His voice was like a little child's. "They need me."
Cindy understood, and nodded to Bling and Kendra; everyone knew fighting with Logan was useless, especially when it came to Max. "Okay Logan." Cindy hugged him. "I'll stop by after work tomorrow."
"Me too," Kendra murmured, touching his arm.
After the women had left, Bling hugged Logan, whispering, "It'll be okay."
"Yeah," Logan replied dismally. "You keep telling me that."
His tone sent a pang through Bling, and he reluctantly left.
Logan watched his friend leave, wishing he could believe him. But all he could believe was the empty feeling inside him. His soul felt as though it was dying. His heart was ready to break, and his shoulders sagged under an invisible pressure. Furiously, fueled by pain and anger and rage and despair, Logan spun around and slammed his fist into a wall. It hurt like hell and he released a growl. Soon that growl turned to a sob and Logan broke down and wept, sinking sorrowfully to the floor. After a time, when his tears had subsided, Logan dragged himself to his feet, wiping at his eyes. He trudged out into the brightly lit hallway and squinted, looking for the doctor. He caught her eye and she smiled sympathetically. Walking to him, she said, "Mr. Cale, would you like me to take you to her?"
Logan nodded, feeling much like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Slowly, they walked toward the room Logan felt as though he was walking to his execution. He felt like a vice was gripping his chest. Suddenly, he sagged against the wall. "I can't do this," he muttered. "God, I just can't."
The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder, "Yes you can. Take deep breaths."
Logan complied and they were once again walking. The doctor stopped in front of the last room, the largest and most private. Affluence had its advantages. She ushered him inside, and murmured, "I'll leave you alone. Come and find me when you're finished and we can make further arrangements."
Logan felt the air being sucked out of him. "Thank you doctor." He pulled the steel stool up beside her bed and took her hand in his, stroking her hair. The horror of what he saw made him want to vomit. The sight of machines and tubes running in and out of her body was ghastly. Her skin was pale and ashen; her hair limp and greasy, her lips parched. A sheen of sweat covered her face and he grabbed a cloth from the nightstand, dabbing at her face. A ventilator and a heart monitor provided the soundtrack for Logan's nightmare, hissing and beeping, reminding him that his wife was alive. He had to keep remembering that. She was alive. His heart, his soul, his purpose, was still with him. At least physically.
The doctors had determined that there would be little to no brain or organ damage since they had acted so quickly. Her seizure had been frighteningly severe, one of the worst, in Logan's estimation, she had ever had. Nurses took blood samples every six hours. Intravenously they administered drugs, saline, blood when necessary, and nutritional supplements to keep her adequately fed. They had put her in a coma to keep her seizures under control. Contacting her doctor in France, they had put her on a medication more powerful than Tryptophan, but with less side effects. To work effectively though, the medication had to be administered for a week. And the danger of another fatally severe seizure was too high.
Putting his wife in a coma was one of the most agonizing decisions Logan had ever had to make.
Just after deciding what to do about their child. Incredibly, the seizure had not affected the baby. Fetal heart tones were fine, and a thorough examination had confirmed that the baby was in surprisingly little distress. The French doctor had a theory that the pregnancy was, as they had originally suspected, altering Max's seratonin levels. However, as her pregnancy progressed, exactly how those levels were altered started to change. In her first two trimesters, the seratonin in her brain had balanced off, probably because the baby in her womb required it. Now, the baby was taking all of Max's seratonin, her own levels dipping dangerously low. Unfortunately, there were no warning signs.
Although the baby's health was not directly endangered by the seizures, there was the potential that another seizure would put Max into premature labor. Tests showed that the baby's lungs were slightly underdeveloped and a two-month premature delivery would be iffy. However, if the baby stayed inside Max's body, it would continue to sap off her seratonin, endangering her own life.
Max and Logan had discussed such a possibility of such an emergency after returning from France, in the event that it would be a choice between Max's health and that of their baby's. Max had been adamant. She wanted him to do everything to save their baby, even if it meant risking her own health.
"Max," he had asked, tears choking him. "How can you ask me to do that? I can't decide between your life or hers." They had told the doctor they wanted to be surprised, but the still kept referring to the baby as a she.
"Logan," Max had said, sitting in his lap and pulling his arms around her expanded waist. "You might have to. And if you do, I want to know that you won't risk her life to save mine." He had tried to protest but she had silenced him, placing a finger to his lips. "I'm a Chimera, remember? We can survive nearly anything. This baby might be another story. She needs all the time she can get in here so she can have a change at surviving out here." Max's gaze had bored into him. "Logan, promise me," she had said.
Now, a week after she had been admitted, for the very reasons they had discussed, Logan was dealing with his promise. Putting Max in a coma, administering the new anti-seizure drug and regular doses of magnesium sulfate to prevent further contractions, had all been so that the baby would get a better chance at survival. He had asked the doctors to wait ten days to see what effect the new medications had. If Max could pull through and her seratonin levels could restabalize, then there was to be no emergency C-section. If she couldn't, however, more decisions would have to be made.
"Why did you make me promise, Max?" Logan asked, resting his head on her shoulder. He reached out and placed his hand atop her swollen belly. "I hope you appreciate all your momma's going through for you, little one," he whispered. He kissed Max's limp fingertips, listening to the hiss of the ventilator and the steady beep of the heart monitor.
Just then, a nurse came in, pushing a cart full of needles and vials of blood. As she put the tourniquet on his beloved's arm, she told him, "Your wife is very strong, Mr. Cale."
He tried to smile, "I know." Looking at the familiar night nurse, who he saw every evening take his wife's blood and check her vitals, he said, "Please, call me Logan." He never went home, even showering at the hospital. Bling had brought him come clothes and reading materials. Logan slept in the lounge or in a cot beside her bed; that is, if he slept at all. He did not want to leave her.
"Have you been talking to her?" the nurse asked, nonchalantly drawing a vial of blood and checking her pulse.
"All the time," he replied, stroking the inside of his wife's wrist. "I don't know if she hears me though," he admitted.
"She does," the nurse assured him. Then she checked the heart monitor and pressed the doctor alert button above the bed.
"What's wrong?" he asked in alarm.
The nurse smiled reassuringly, "Nothing. They have ordered her taken off the respirator today." She frowned. "Weren't you informed?"
Logan scrunched his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, removing his glasses, "Maybe." He sighed, "I don't remember."
She smiled, "You look exhausted. I can try to find an empty quiet room for you to get some sleep in."
He shook his head, "No thank you. Why did you ring the buzzer?"
The nurse, whose name was Abby, began straightening the sheets. "Oh, I can do it, but the attending has to be here to supervise. Hospital policy," she explained with a shrug.
Moments later, a doctor Logan did not recognize entered and smiled at them both. "How's she doing?"
"Reps are good, heart beat strong, pulse and blood pressure are nearly normal," Abby reported. "Shall we extibate?"
The doctor nodded, "I don't see why not. Let's get her on 100% oxygen for the first six hours and see how it goes from there." The man tuned to him, "I'm sorry, I'm new to the case. And you are?"
Logan held out a tired hand, "Logan, Logan Cale."
"He's her husband," Abby said with a smile. The doctor nodded, and swept past Logan as she signaled she was ready to extibate.
"Why don't you go for a walk, get a drink, stretch your legs, while we do this," the doctor suggested.
Seeing Logan's hesitance, Abby smiled, "I'll come and find you when we've finished."
Begrudgingly, he nodded and left the room, deciding on a cup of tea, a candy bar, and a bag of French fried onions from the vending machine at the end of the hall. A few moments later, he felt a hand on his shoulder. The nurse smiled and led him back down the hall. "How long have you two known each other?" she asked cordially.
Logan smiled, "Since she was nineteen."
"My," the nurse said. "That's a long time."
"Not very, actually," he replied. "It feels like we met only yesterday."
She chuckled, "I wish all husbands were as romantic as you."
"She makes it easy to be," he told her. Then he sighed and abruptly turned violently, punching a wall. Abby cried out slightly in alarm, then signaled the security guards to back away. He rested his forehead against the cool concrete wall, banging his head lightly against it. He growled out of frustration and pain. She put a hand on his shoulder and led him back to the room. After seating him in the chair opposite Max's bed, the nurse examined his hand.
"You're lucky you didn't break it," she commented, noticing the bruise from earlier. "You're going to have one hell of a bruise, though. I'll bring you some ice and some Tylenol for the pain."
Logan did not respond. When Abby returned with the ice and medication, she found him once again beside his wife's bed, stroking her skin and her hair, speaking lovingly to her. The nurse made him swallow the Tylenol. "You know," she said quietly. "When we get the results of this blood test back, we'll be able to tell how well the new medication is working."
Logan did not reply.
Abby sighed. "Keep that ice pack on your hand until the swelling goes down," she told him, pushing the blood cart out of the room. Turning, she said, "And don't stop talking to her. Your voice might be what she needs to come out of this once we wean her off the meds. The longer she's in this..." She let her voice trail off.
He nodded, silently filling in what she had not been able to say. "The longer she's in this, the less likely it is she will come out of it." Being careful of the IV and the other tubes they had in her, he gingerly slipped into bed with her and took her in his arms. Resting his head on top of hers, he murmured, "I miss you. Come back. I need you. I want to wake up with you again. I want to fall asleep with you again. I want to kiss you again. I need to look into your eyes. I need you. You can't leave me. We haven't had enough time." The tears fell and he closed his eyes, feeling her weight in his arms. "Don't leave me all alone."
The only response he got was the steady bleep of the heart monitor. Somehow, feeling Max's chest rise and fall, hearing the steady noise, lulled Logan into a deep slumber. When he woke, it was nearly daylight. A quick glance at his watch told him it was nearly seven in the morning. He had slept for seven hours. Frantically, Logan looked down at Max. She was still unconscious. Just then, Logan realized there was someone else in the room. Looking up with a start, he saw Abby sitting in a chair across the room, reading a magazine.
"Hey," she said, putting down her magazine. "I wondered when you were gonna wake up."
He grinned slightly and slid reluctantly out of the bed, stretching the kinks out of his body. "Guess I was exhausted, huh?" He looked curiously at her, "What are you still doing here?"
Abby stood, unable to keep the grin off her face, "I just wanted to tell you, we got the results of Max's latest blood work back."
Logan's heart stopped. "And?" He gulped back the dryness in his throat.
"She's responding well to the new medication." Abby smiled when she saw a relieved look of shock spread across his features. "We are going to start weaning her tomorrow. With any luck, you wife will wake up in a couple days. After that, she'll just need to take a couple of pills, some seratonin supplements, and get lots of rest, and both she and your baby will be fine."
Logan staggered slightly. She reached out and gently sat him in a chair. "Thank you," he murmured.
"Just doing my job," she replied. Then she gathered her things and left the room.
When the shock had worn off, Logan found his cell phone and began making the excited calls.
"Bling? Good news, Max is going to be okay."
"Cindy, I just talked to a nurse. Max is gonna wake up soon. She's responding to treatment."
"Walter, let me talk to Kendra. I don't wanna know what she's doing or what position she's in, I just want to talk to her. Kendra? Hey, it's Logan. No, everything is fine. I just got the news. Max is going to be fine."
And true to Logan's promise, she was. One day, as Logan waited in anticipation, clutching her hand, Max had opened her eyes.
When she opened them, or at least tried to, she found that her eyelids would not respond. She tried several more times before they complied. She immediately squeezed them shut again when bright lights assaulted her eyes. Gingerly, she opened them again, taking in her surroundings. She was in a white room, in an uncomfortable bed with stiff sheets and a thin blanket. She heard the steady beat of a heart monitor and felt a pinch in her hand. Looking down she saw she was filled with IV's and various other insundry tubes. Her hand brushed against something warm. She looked down again and found the head of her lover resting against her side. He appeared to be in a troubled sleep, and had evidently slumped over in the chair he had pulled up beside her bed. She tried to speak his name, but no sound came out; instead a sharp pain ran through her throat and she began to panic. Taking a deep breath, which was made deeper by the fact she had an oxygen tube up her nose, Max calmed herself and decided she would handle one thing at a time.
Gingerly, Max stroked Logan's handsome face, feeling the rough stubble on his cheek. She ran her hand through his hair, massaging her fingers at the base of his neck, running her nails over his scalp, which she knew would send chills through him. He awoke with a start and bolted up in his chair, his eyes wide at what he saw.
She smiled at him.
He choked on his tears and took her face in his hands, covering it with kisses. His tears dampened her face and she held him to her as best she could, trying to soothe him. "I thought I'd lost you," he whispered.
Max smiled and kissed his cheek. Then, realization ran through her and the panic began to set in. She forced her voice to work and croaked, "Logan, the baby, is it-?"
"Everything's fine love," he assured her. "The baby was never in any danger, strangely enough. It was you we were worried about."
"Can I have some water?" she asked. He got it for her. After she had quenched her parched throat, Max asked, "What happened?"
Logan sighed, "They think the baby was sapping all your seratonin and it made you have a major seizure. We had to put you in a coma for the new meds to work. You've been out for about nine days."
Max's eyes widened when she discovered she'd lost over a week of her life.
Seeing her distress, Logan quickly moved to calm her, "Don't worry Max, honey, you didn't miss much." He chuckled. "I think everything on TV's been repeats anyway."
That made Max smile. Eventually, Logan managed to pull himself away and find a doctor.
Smiling contently, Max shut her eyes to rest them. She placed a hand on her stomach and thanked God that she and her baby were going to be all right. "Logan looks so tired," she thought. "I bet he got hardly any sleep this entire time." As she rested her eyes, max suddenly felt a presence enter the room. Her spider senses went into overdrive and her eyes shot open.
To her unexpected horror, Max gasped when she saw who was standing in her doorway. The person was disfigured, with a semi-burnt face. Still, despite the scars, the identity of her visitor was unmistakable.
"Lydecker."
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See? I told you I wouldn't let them die! Bet I surprised you with Lydecker though, huh? LOL. I'll try to post the next chapter next week.
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One week.
That's how long it had been since Logan's world came thundering to a standstill.
Logan could vividly recall the paramedics strapping a twitching Max to the stretcher, inserting IV's and administering drugs. They had stabilized her and transported his wife to the same hospital Logan had been in after the shooting. Life and Fate were not without their twisted senses of humor. As a standard, post-Pulse policy (and, as with everything post-Pulse, it was the complete opposite of what had been before the Pulse), family members were not allowed to ride along in the rig. Logan remembered standing in the street, watching the ambulance speed away. He remembered Bling pulling his car around and driving him to the hospital. He remembered paging Original Cindy and Kendra. He remembered Max's Ob/Gyn finding him in the waiting room and giving him the news.
Logan stood there for a long tie. He could hear Kendra sniffing her nose. Bling came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Let me take you home."
"No."
Logan's voice was gruff, and thick with emotion.
"Boo," Cindy said gently, quietly, her eyes red rimmed, standing in front of Logan. "You should go home and rest."
"No!"
Logan's voice reverberated throughout the room, echoing off the glass walls and smacking him in the face. His eyes filled with tears. "I want to stay with them." His voice was like a little child's. "They need me."
Cindy understood, and nodded to Bling and Kendra; everyone knew fighting with Logan was useless, especially when it came to Max. "Okay Logan." Cindy hugged him. "I'll stop by after work tomorrow."
"Me too," Kendra murmured, touching his arm.
After the women had left, Bling hugged Logan, whispering, "It'll be okay."
"Yeah," Logan replied dismally. "You keep telling me that."
His tone sent a pang through Bling, and he reluctantly left.
Logan watched his friend leave, wishing he could believe him. But all he could believe was the empty feeling inside him. His soul felt as though it was dying. His heart was ready to break, and his shoulders sagged under an invisible pressure. Furiously, fueled by pain and anger and rage and despair, Logan spun around and slammed his fist into a wall. It hurt like hell and he released a growl. Soon that growl turned to a sob and Logan broke down and wept, sinking sorrowfully to the floor. After a time, when his tears had subsided, Logan dragged himself to his feet, wiping at his eyes. He trudged out into the brightly lit hallway and squinted, looking for the doctor. He caught her eye and she smiled sympathetically. Walking to him, she said, "Mr. Cale, would you like me to take you to her?"
Logan nodded, feeling much like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Slowly, they walked toward the room Logan felt as though he was walking to his execution. He felt like a vice was gripping his chest. Suddenly, he sagged against the wall. "I can't do this," he muttered. "God, I just can't."
The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder, "Yes you can. Take deep breaths."
Logan complied and they were once again walking. The doctor stopped in front of the last room, the largest and most private. Affluence had its advantages. She ushered him inside, and murmured, "I'll leave you alone. Come and find me when you're finished and we can make further arrangements."
Logan felt the air being sucked out of him. "Thank you doctor." He pulled the steel stool up beside her bed and took her hand in his, stroking her hair. The horror of what he saw made him want to vomit. The sight of machines and tubes running in and out of her body was ghastly. Her skin was pale and ashen; her hair limp and greasy, her lips parched. A sheen of sweat covered her face and he grabbed a cloth from the nightstand, dabbing at her face. A ventilator and a heart monitor provided the soundtrack for Logan's nightmare, hissing and beeping, reminding him that his wife was alive. He had to keep remembering that. She was alive. His heart, his soul, his purpose, was still with him. At least physically.
The doctors had determined that there would be little to no brain or organ damage since they had acted so quickly. Her seizure had been frighteningly severe, one of the worst, in Logan's estimation, she had ever had. Nurses took blood samples every six hours. Intravenously they administered drugs, saline, blood when necessary, and nutritional supplements to keep her adequately fed. They had put her in a coma to keep her seizures under control. Contacting her doctor in France, they had put her on a medication more powerful than Tryptophan, but with less side effects. To work effectively though, the medication had to be administered for a week. And the danger of another fatally severe seizure was too high.
Putting his wife in a coma was one of the most agonizing decisions Logan had ever had to make.
Just after deciding what to do about their child. Incredibly, the seizure had not affected the baby. Fetal heart tones were fine, and a thorough examination had confirmed that the baby was in surprisingly little distress. The French doctor had a theory that the pregnancy was, as they had originally suspected, altering Max's seratonin levels. However, as her pregnancy progressed, exactly how those levels were altered started to change. In her first two trimesters, the seratonin in her brain had balanced off, probably because the baby in her womb required it. Now, the baby was taking all of Max's seratonin, her own levels dipping dangerously low. Unfortunately, there were no warning signs.
Although the baby's health was not directly endangered by the seizures, there was the potential that another seizure would put Max into premature labor. Tests showed that the baby's lungs were slightly underdeveloped and a two-month premature delivery would be iffy. However, if the baby stayed inside Max's body, it would continue to sap off her seratonin, endangering her own life.
Max and Logan had discussed such a possibility of such an emergency after returning from France, in the event that it would be a choice between Max's health and that of their baby's. Max had been adamant. She wanted him to do everything to save their baby, even if it meant risking her own health.
"Max," he had asked, tears choking him. "How can you ask me to do that? I can't decide between your life or hers." They had told the doctor they wanted to be surprised, but the still kept referring to the baby as a she.
"Logan," Max had said, sitting in his lap and pulling his arms around her expanded waist. "You might have to. And if you do, I want to know that you won't risk her life to save mine." He had tried to protest but she had silenced him, placing a finger to his lips. "I'm a Chimera, remember? We can survive nearly anything. This baby might be another story. She needs all the time she can get in here so she can have a change at surviving out here." Max's gaze had bored into him. "Logan, promise me," she had said.
Now, a week after she had been admitted, for the very reasons they had discussed, Logan was dealing with his promise. Putting Max in a coma, administering the new anti-seizure drug and regular doses of magnesium sulfate to prevent further contractions, had all been so that the baby would get a better chance at survival. He had asked the doctors to wait ten days to see what effect the new medications had. If Max could pull through and her seratonin levels could restabalize, then there was to be no emergency C-section. If she couldn't, however, more decisions would have to be made.
"Why did you make me promise, Max?" Logan asked, resting his head on her shoulder. He reached out and placed his hand atop her swollen belly. "I hope you appreciate all your momma's going through for you, little one," he whispered. He kissed Max's limp fingertips, listening to the hiss of the ventilator and the steady beep of the heart monitor.
Just then, a nurse came in, pushing a cart full of needles and vials of blood. As she put the tourniquet on his beloved's arm, she told him, "Your wife is very strong, Mr. Cale."
He tried to smile, "I know." Looking at the familiar night nurse, who he saw every evening take his wife's blood and check her vitals, he said, "Please, call me Logan." He never went home, even showering at the hospital. Bling had brought him come clothes and reading materials. Logan slept in the lounge or in a cot beside her bed; that is, if he slept at all. He did not want to leave her.
"Have you been talking to her?" the nurse asked, nonchalantly drawing a vial of blood and checking her pulse.
"All the time," he replied, stroking the inside of his wife's wrist. "I don't know if she hears me though," he admitted.
"She does," the nurse assured him. Then she checked the heart monitor and pressed the doctor alert button above the bed.
"What's wrong?" he asked in alarm.
The nurse smiled reassuringly, "Nothing. They have ordered her taken off the respirator today." She frowned. "Weren't you informed?"
Logan scrunched his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, removing his glasses, "Maybe." He sighed, "I don't remember."
She smiled, "You look exhausted. I can try to find an empty quiet room for you to get some sleep in."
He shook his head, "No thank you. Why did you ring the buzzer?"
The nurse, whose name was Abby, began straightening the sheets. "Oh, I can do it, but the attending has to be here to supervise. Hospital policy," she explained with a shrug.
Moments later, a doctor Logan did not recognize entered and smiled at them both. "How's she doing?"
"Reps are good, heart beat strong, pulse and blood pressure are nearly normal," Abby reported. "Shall we extibate?"
The doctor nodded, "I don't see why not. Let's get her on 100% oxygen for the first six hours and see how it goes from there." The man tuned to him, "I'm sorry, I'm new to the case. And you are?"
Logan held out a tired hand, "Logan, Logan Cale."
"He's her husband," Abby said with a smile. The doctor nodded, and swept past Logan as she signaled she was ready to extibate.
"Why don't you go for a walk, get a drink, stretch your legs, while we do this," the doctor suggested.
Seeing Logan's hesitance, Abby smiled, "I'll come and find you when we've finished."
Begrudgingly, he nodded and left the room, deciding on a cup of tea, a candy bar, and a bag of French fried onions from the vending machine at the end of the hall. A few moments later, he felt a hand on his shoulder. The nurse smiled and led him back down the hall. "How long have you two known each other?" she asked cordially.
Logan smiled, "Since she was nineteen."
"My," the nurse said. "That's a long time."
"Not very, actually," he replied. "It feels like we met only yesterday."
She chuckled, "I wish all husbands were as romantic as you."
"She makes it easy to be," he told her. Then he sighed and abruptly turned violently, punching a wall. Abby cried out slightly in alarm, then signaled the security guards to back away. He rested his forehead against the cool concrete wall, banging his head lightly against it. He growled out of frustration and pain. She put a hand on his shoulder and led him back to the room. After seating him in the chair opposite Max's bed, the nurse examined his hand.
"You're lucky you didn't break it," she commented, noticing the bruise from earlier. "You're going to have one hell of a bruise, though. I'll bring you some ice and some Tylenol for the pain."
Logan did not respond. When Abby returned with the ice and medication, she found him once again beside his wife's bed, stroking her skin and her hair, speaking lovingly to her. The nurse made him swallow the Tylenol. "You know," she said quietly. "When we get the results of this blood test back, we'll be able to tell how well the new medication is working."
Logan did not reply.
Abby sighed. "Keep that ice pack on your hand until the swelling goes down," she told him, pushing the blood cart out of the room. Turning, she said, "And don't stop talking to her. Your voice might be what she needs to come out of this once we wean her off the meds. The longer she's in this..." She let her voice trail off.
He nodded, silently filling in what she had not been able to say. "The longer she's in this, the less likely it is she will come out of it." Being careful of the IV and the other tubes they had in her, he gingerly slipped into bed with her and took her in his arms. Resting his head on top of hers, he murmured, "I miss you. Come back. I need you. I want to wake up with you again. I want to fall asleep with you again. I want to kiss you again. I need to look into your eyes. I need you. You can't leave me. We haven't had enough time." The tears fell and he closed his eyes, feeling her weight in his arms. "Don't leave me all alone."
The only response he got was the steady bleep of the heart monitor. Somehow, feeling Max's chest rise and fall, hearing the steady noise, lulled Logan into a deep slumber. When he woke, it was nearly daylight. A quick glance at his watch told him it was nearly seven in the morning. He had slept for seven hours. Frantically, Logan looked down at Max. She was still unconscious. Just then, Logan realized there was someone else in the room. Looking up with a start, he saw Abby sitting in a chair across the room, reading a magazine.
"Hey," she said, putting down her magazine. "I wondered when you were gonna wake up."
He grinned slightly and slid reluctantly out of the bed, stretching the kinks out of his body. "Guess I was exhausted, huh?" He looked curiously at her, "What are you still doing here?"
Abby stood, unable to keep the grin off her face, "I just wanted to tell you, we got the results of Max's latest blood work back."
Logan's heart stopped. "And?" He gulped back the dryness in his throat.
"She's responding well to the new medication." Abby smiled when she saw a relieved look of shock spread across his features. "We are going to start weaning her tomorrow. With any luck, you wife will wake up in a couple days. After that, she'll just need to take a couple of pills, some seratonin supplements, and get lots of rest, and both she and your baby will be fine."
Logan staggered slightly. She reached out and gently sat him in a chair. "Thank you," he murmured.
"Just doing my job," she replied. Then she gathered her things and left the room.
When the shock had worn off, Logan found his cell phone and began making the excited calls.
"Bling? Good news, Max is going to be okay."
"Cindy, I just talked to a nurse. Max is gonna wake up soon. She's responding to treatment."
"Walter, let me talk to Kendra. I don't wanna know what she's doing or what position she's in, I just want to talk to her. Kendra? Hey, it's Logan. No, everything is fine. I just got the news. Max is going to be fine."
And true to Logan's promise, she was. One day, as Logan waited in anticipation, clutching her hand, Max had opened her eyes.
When she opened them, or at least tried to, she found that her eyelids would not respond. She tried several more times before they complied. She immediately squeezed them shut again when bright lights assaulted her eyes. Gingerly, she opened them again, taking in her surroundings. She was in a white room, in an uncomfortable bed with stiff sheets and a thin blanket. She heard the steady beat of a heart monitor and felt a pinch in her hand. Looking down she saw she was filled with IV's and various other insundry tubes. Her hand brushed against something warm. She looked down again and found the head of her lover resting against her side. He appeared to be in a troubled sleep, and had evidently slumped over in the chair he had pulled up beside her bed. She tried to speak his name, but no sound came out; instead a sharp pain ran through her throat and she began to panic. Taking a deep breath, which was made deeper by the fact she had an oxygen tube up her nose, Max calmed herself and decided she would handle one thing at a time.
Gingerly, Max stroked Logan's handsome face, feeling the rough stubble on his cheek. She ran her hand through his hair, massaging her fingers at the base of his neck, running her nails over his scalp, which she knew would send chills through him. He awoke with a start and bolted up in his chair, his eyes wide at what he saw.
She smiled at him.
He choked on his tears and took her face in his hands, covering it with kisses. His tears dampened her face and she held him to her as best she could, trying to soothe him. "I thought I'd lost you," he whispered.
Max smiled and kissed his cheek. Then, realization ran through her and the panic began to set in. She forced her voice to work and croaked, "Logan, the baby, is it-?"
"Everything's fine love," he assured her. "The baby was never in any danger, strangely enough. It was you we were worried about."
"Can I have some water?" she asked. He got it for her. After she had quenched her parched throat, Max asked, "What happened?"
Logan sighed, "They think the baby was sapping all your seratonin and it made you have a major seizure. We had to put you in a coma for the new meds to work. You've been out for about nine days."
Max's eyes widened when she discovered she'd lost over a week of her life.
Seeing her distress, Logan quickly moved to calm her, "Don't worry Max, honey, you didn't miss much." He chuckled. "I think everything on TV's been repeats anyway."
That made Max smile. Eventually, Logan managed to pull himself away and find a doctor.
Smiling contently, Max shut her eyes to rest them. She placed a hand on her stomach and thanked God that she and her baby were going to be all right. "Logan looks so tired," she thought. "I bet he got hardly any sleep this entire time." As she rested her eyes, max suddenly felt a presence enter the room. Her spider senses went into overdrive and her eyes shot open.
To her unexpected horror, Max gasped when she saw who was standing in her doorway. The person was disfigured, with a semi-burnt face. Still, despite the scars, the identity of her visitor was unmistakable.
"Lydecker."
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See? I told you I wouldn't let them die! Bet I surprised you with Lydecker though, huh? LOL. I'll try to post the next chapter next week.