Disclaimer: I'm sad to say that i do not own Remember the Titans, the characters, the directors, or anything associated to the movie. The wonderful world of Disney owns all that good stuff. I do own Isabelle Brooke, her family, and that Clive Henry thug...but that's about all. I unfortunately have NO relations to Ryan Hurst either...but Christmas really isn't that far away now that i think about it....YUMMY! :)

Chapter 9


Gerry squealed into the hospital parking lot and charged straight into the waiting room, with Julius hot on his trail. His immediate reaction to the news was of shock, and without another word or glance, he had turned around and jumped back into his car. Julius ran halfway down the block, trying to flag him down, after which he got into Gerry's car and accompanied him. As Gerry sped down the streets, Julius had taken a quick once over at him; his jaw was set, his limbs were tense, and both his hands were tightly clamped around the steering wheel in his death grip. He remained somewhat calm and didn't utter a word, but there was a look of fear and panic in his eyes that startled Julius to the core.
The two of them stumbled into the waiting room to see their friends, Isabelle's family, and a few other people , gathered in little huddles, offering what little comfort they could to each other. Gerry's searching eyes swept over the lobby as he trembled with anxiety, worry, and fear. He found Isabelle's mother sitting in a chair, with tears streaming down her pretty face and a handkerchief waded tightly in her hands. Coach Yoast and Sheryl sat on her other side, quietly trying to console her with a cup of tea. A man that Gerry had never seen before was seated only a chair away from Mrs. Brooke, his lips pursed tightly with distress and his limbs frozen with tension. He looked out of sorts with his bushy creased eyebrows and deep worry wrinkles carving out his tanned face. His eyes, however, portrayed no emotion as he seemed to be lost in a world of his own.
Gerry stood still and stared at the people before him, as his teammates suddenly appeared at his side; Rev, Ronnie, Petey, Louie, Blue, and Alan. Their faces were all somber, and their shoulders were all sagged, the light in their eyes from that evening's celebration had long gone, only to be replaced with the sadness of that night's incident.
"How is she? What happened?" Gerry asked shakily, his arms hanging limp at his sides. Ronnie stepped up a little and took a deep breath, trying to stabilize his emotions. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet to drown out his sniffling, as he concentrated on the checkered pattern of the tiled floor.
"She was in a car accident," he began, "Isabelle was hit by a truck on the way to meet some of us." He gestured to himself, Rev, and Louie. His voice began to waver, "W-we were inside waiting for her, when there was a commotion outside." He stopped abruptly and swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "We went outside to see what was going on, and there was her car, all banged up."
Gerry looked on, a shred of hope still dully glowing inside of him as he searched Ronnie's face for a deeper explanation. "How is she?" he repeated, his eyes lost and his voice trembling. "How is she? Is she really hurt?"
Rev nodded and coughed, roughly brushing away a stray tear, casting his eyes on the floor. He traced the tiled pattern with his shoe along with Ronnie, and didn't say anything for a moment. He knew that he would break down as soon as he opened his mouth if he didn't steady himself. Rev jammed his hands in his pockets and meekly looked up at his anguished friend. "I'm sorry, Gerry. Isabelle is in a coma."
He blinked and stumbled back a bit from the shock as he shook his head in response. The room around him tipped to the side a little and the air in the stuffy room hugged him tightly, suffocating him.
"No. No, this can't be happening!" His agonized face crumpled, but he held back his tears. Ignoring his friends' attempts to comfort him, he pushed them away and turned around only to come back to the same sad picture of Isabelle's heartbroken mother. He decided to go to her to give what little support he could muster, and he gathered enough strength to keep himself from crying. He sat next to her and gave her a hug, trying to stay positive for her. He felt a heavy weight press down on his shoulders and the room suddenly seemed to grow smaller. He stood up and began to walk away, when Coach Yoast took hold of his elbow. He looked Gerry straight in the eye and said,
"You okay, Gerry? From what I gather, you and Isabelle were close."
Gerry stood motionless when the mysterious man suddenly blew up with an explosion of anger, as he leapt from his seat and threw an accusing finger at Mrs. Brooke. Gerry jumped back in surprise and watched the man's face contort with fury and turn pink as veins protruded from his neck and forehead. His loosened tie swung wildly as his arms gestured violently.
"See, Evelyn," he shouted, "Isabelle isn't safe here! She is coming to California with me and that's it!"
Mrs. Brooke retaliated. "And what are you going to do, fly her out there while she's unconscious?! For God's sakes, John, our daughter is in a coma and she might not even wake up! Having her move with you is what's on your mind?!" She shook her head at him, her puffy eyes furious at him. "You don't care about Isabelle at all, don't you? You just want to win this stupid game that you've invented in your head of trying to gain anything and everything from this divorce! You'd rather see your only child miserable and held against her will, so you can win." She glared back at her ex-husband before storming out of the room towards the exit doors, muttering something about wanting to be alone.
Gerry turned around; with his own heavy emotions drowning him and smothering him; he couldn't take anymore drama and tension. He barreled through his friends, ignoring their attempts of comfort once again, and blindly walked down the lobby looking for Isabelle's room. He hated hospitals and for all the death and suffering it held within its walls. To think that someone dear and near to him had wound up in one of these facilities, made him hate it even more. He walked aimlessly past room after room, his mind enveloped with his thoughts when something caught his eye. There, on the clipboard hanging next to a door, was the name "Isabelle Brooke" boldly scrawled at the top.
Gerry stopped dead in his tracks and slowly approached the room. He swallowed, almost afraid to see her condition. Cautiously, he peaked into the room and then suddenly grasped onto the doorknob for support. Isabelle laid on the bed, motionless. There were tubes and machines hooked onto her body, filling the cold, hollow room with different noises and sounds.
God, please, no, he thought, this can't be happening. Not to her, not to her. The light harshly glared down on her injured frame where bandages covered the cuts and scratches all over her body, and a white sling cradled her left arm. He was dimly aware that he wasn't aloud to see her; only her immediate family, but at that point he could have cared less if the U.S. Army charged at him and ordered him to turn around; nothing was going to stop him from seeing her. He slipped into her room quietly.
Gerry felt a huge wave of different emotions crashing down on him; fear, worry, guilt. What if I never get to tell her I'm sorry for what I did? he thought remorsefully. He recalled the last thing he said to her and shuddered with shame. How could I turn her away? I'd give up being captain in a heartbeat if it'd bring her back.
He softly closed the door behind him and slowly approached her, pulling up a chair next to her still body. He tried desperately to hold back his tears as he looked up into her unconscious face. He reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face and gently touched her cheek, taking a deep breath, hoping not to break down right then and there.
"Oh, Isabelle," he whispered. "You. . . you can't be hurt. You gotta wake up—soon." He kept on fighting down the tears, as he talked to her, but watched as his words fell on deaf ears. He bent his head down and let a tear slide down his cheek. "Please, don't leave me. You've got so much ahead of you. There's so much I have to tell you. Please, Isabelle, don't give up. You can't. I need you."