*Been waiting for that romance??? Didn't I tell you it was coming?!! Well, if that's what you've been waiting for, 'cause after all, this is a Monica/Andrew fic, here it is!!*
*PROLOGUE*
"She's all yours," Doctor Parks announced, accepting the papers that Andrew had just filled out.
"Are you sure she's ready?" the angel of death asked nervously.
"Well, if you really wished, we could keep her here overnight, but I really don't see any use. It will take time for the pain to fully wear off, but there's no internal damage. Except for the bruises and permanent scars that she has, I'd say that your wife has made a miraculous improvement."
"Okay," Andrew agreed. "I'll take her." He walked into the small hospital room, only to see her looking out of the window. "Honey?" he asked quietly. She made a small jump and turned her head around to face him.
"Hey," she said. He picked up her hand and squeezed it as hard as he dared. "You come to pick me up?" the Irish angel asked, her beautiful lilt almost completely back to normal.
"I sure have." He grinned and helped her off the chair she was seated in. They said their 'good-bye's' and thank you's' to the doctors and nurses on their way out. When they stepped outside of the building, Andrew saw Monica take a huge inhale of the lustrous aroma of spring. "Isn't it wonderful?" he asked. She nodded.
"I haven't seen it like this for a long time." Suddenly she let out a squeal and winced in pain.
"You okay?" he asked her, letting her lean on him for support. She blinked a few tears back and again nodded.
"I'm fine, Andy," she told him untruthfully.
"I know you're not, sweetie," he said. He cast her a serious look. "Maybe you should stay here one more night."
"Oh, no," she cried. "Please, just take me home and I can rest in bed. I don't wish to be here anymore. I miss home."
"Home," Andrew mumbled. "We haven't been home in ages."
"No, I mean our temporary home, Andrew," she said. "But I do very much miss heaven. How long have we been on earth, anyway?"
"I don't know exactly, but longer than ever." He helped her into the rental car that they were using, then walked around the front and hopped in the driver's seat. Once he was buckled and the car was running, he glanced over at her and smiled. Her eyes were already shut and she had her head resting on the window. He reached over and touched her cheek. She slowly stirred and opened her eyes. "Here," he told her, gesturing towards him. He reached out his right arm and she hesitantly rested her head on his chest. "I love you, Angel Girl," he told her.
"I love you too, Andy," she whispered back, then fell into a peaceful sleep.
"We're here, honey," he whispered into her ear. He stroked a few strands of her auburn hair that were hanging in front of her eyes behind her ear. She slowly awoke and managed a happy, but sleepy smile. Yawning, she sat up and stretched.
"Already?"
"Yep. If you think about it, the hospital isn't too far away," he replied.
After leading her up the stairs and into the house, Andrew helped her into the living room where he carefully took off her jacket and hung it up. She again yawned and he right away knew that she needed to take a long nap to regain most of her strength. He carried her up the carpeted spiral staircase and laid her on the soft bed. He covered her with a few blankets, pulling them all the way up to her neck. Andrew planted a small kiss on her forehead and shut the light off. Before leaving the room, he looked back at her one more time and after a long time of pondering it, he finally decided to tell her the truth when she woke up. But he didn't even really know the truth.
He was glad, an hour later when the child services brought Rose and Brian to the house, asking Andrew to sign a few papers. The two fell into his embrace, thankful to be home.
The angel of death had managed a delicious meal of pasta and garlic bread for supper. Monica still hadn't waked up and that bothered him greatly. He knew she needed her rest, but it had been at least eight hours since he had put her to bed.
He slumped down on the couch and sighed.
"Oh, Father, now what do you want us to do? We've made up and we're all back home…well not really home, but what you've provided for us. How much longer do you want us to stay here?" he asked silently.
"Dad," Brian asked, creeping into the living room. Andrew smiled and opened his arms to hug his son. "Why hasn't Mom come down stairs yet? Is she sick?"
"No, son, she is resting. After the accident, she lost a lot of strength. It's time she regains it and that's through sleep," Andrew replied. Brian nodded. "Hey, bud, it's time for bed. Look at the time!"
"Oops," Brian laughed. "I love you, Dad. Good night."
"Good night," Andrew said. He reached down and kissed Brain's head. The nine-year-old ran up the stairs; Andrew could hear his footsteps into the bathroom and then into his room. "Well," he said aloud. "Guess we could turn on the old television set." He grabbed the controller and flipped the channels until he came to a western. He grinned and turned the volume up.
Monica silently crept down the stairs, most of her strength back. She tightly gripped the banister. Her brown eyes fell upon Andrew and a smile spread across her pale face. His hair was heading every which way, and he was in his pajamas: a T-shirt and boxer shorts. She almost laughed to herself at the sight.
"Men," she giggled to herself.
She stood in the doorway of the large living room, still unseen to him. Her eyes took in the mahogany furniture and the pale wallpaper. She hadn't seen it in what seemed like forever. She casually sat down next to him. He looked up, surprised, and smiled.
"There's my girl. I was beginning to think you were hibernating," he laughed.
"So did I," she said. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and rested his chin on her head.
"Glad to see you're feeling better, Angel Girl." He felt her warm breath on his neck and realized that it was time to tell her…
"Andrew, can I switch the channel?" she asked innocently. "This kind of stuff is for guys."
"No," he gasped. "I'm watching this! I have to find out if Old Joe is going to die or if Peggy is going to be rescued. There's too much happening right now!" She smiled and reached up and ran her fingers through his blond hair. She planted a kiss on his cheek. He hardly seemed to know she was there, being caught up in the TV show.
"Oh, Andrew," she whined. "Please." She reached over to grab the remote, but he was ready. He swiped it away from her right when her fingertips touched it. Sneakily, he placed it along side of him, on the floor. She looked up at him with puppy eyes, but he was pretending to not notice her. A smirk grew on his face when she leaned over him to get it. She let out a loud shriek when she felt his fingers against her side, tickling her. "Andrew!" she cried, backing away. She batted at him, playfully hitting him on the arm. "Stop!" she breathed. He didn't.
"Why?" he asked with a grin.
"Because…" she stopped, for her voice was overcome by trying to catch a breath. She shook from laughing. Again, she made a mad dash to grab the controller. She finally got a hold of it and cradled it in her arms, trying to flip the channels in between her struggle to keep it as long as possible.
"You don't think you're going to get away with it that easily, do you?" he asked as she stopped surfing when her eyes came upon a romance movie.
"Yep!" she exclaimed proudly. He suddenly made an attempt to steal it from her and was successful. She crossed her arms and pouted. "Andrew," she mumbled. "I want to watch that!"
"I don't care, I need to find out what happens to Old Joe and Peggy!" he told her, grinning from ear to ear as she blew weak punches at his arm and shoulder. "If that's supposed to hurt, it doesn't," he told her. She once again got a hold of the remote and tried to pry it from his strong grip. He drew it up to his chest, along with her. Their gazes met and locked and their holds loosened. He pulled her closer, waiting for the perfect moment. This was it, he thought. She stared at him with her brown eyes. He drew her even more closely, if that was at all possible. Her breaths withdrew and she tensed. He leaned down and touched his lips to hers. He kissed her softly for a short moment. Suddenly the phone ring blared in their ears and Monica quickly pulled away from him. It rang for a few moments.
"Let the Brian get it upstairs," Andrew told her absentmindedly touching her cheek. He tried to pull her back, but she refused. For a long period of silence, she stared at him, mixed emotions flowing in her eyes. She was confused, angry, and so very scared. She didn't know what to do or expect-neither did he.
"No," she stuttered. "No!" She pulled out of his hold and slid off the couch. He could hear the bedroom door slam and winced. He realized that he had moved too fast. He should've told her…No, he wouldn't tell her! He just couldn't; it would be too hard and he might hurt her. He was hurting his own self. Andrew slid his back down on the seat of the couch and shut his tear filled eyes. He thought in silence for a few moments, pondering what to do next.
"Talk to her, My Child," a voice inside of his head pressed. "Tell her what you feel."
Andrew tried to ignore it, but he knew that he should do what it said.
"I hate love," he mumbled. "Oh, God, why did you give humans hearts if they were only going to get broken?" he asked. Looking up towards the ceiling, he sighed. "Fine, I'll talk to her." With that, he got up and hesitated to walk out of the living room. "God, you know what's happened, and what is happening. I guess I can trust you to know what will happen." He stopped. "It's going to be impossible to do this but…" the angel of death smiled. "Nothing is impossible with God," he muttered over and over again until finally he found himself standing at the door of their bedroom.
