Disclaimer: no one mentioned belongs to me, I guarantee it.
Author's note: my apologies, this chapter's kind of short, and not very good. It's kinda filler. Stick with me, though, the next one gets better.
*Karasuma*Firestorm*
The Worst That Could Happen
Chapter Six: Thursday
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
I don't remember falling asleep. I don't know how long I slept. When I woke up, I was spread across a group of chairs, and didn't see anyone I recognized. The Gordons, the Sanchezes, my own family, all gone.
I sat up sharply, which only increased the headache I'd developed from using hard, molded plastic as a pillow. Blackness flashed in front of my eyes, but I shook my head slightly and it faded. I looked around. Nurses, orderlies, and doctors all bustled past, but none of them looked even remotely familiar in dealing with Gordo's case.
I stood up, and peered into what had been Gordo's room. Empty. Well, no, not empty...there was a person on the bed. Was it Gordo? Was he back from surgery already? How long had I been asleep?
I pranced into the room, elated with the thought that things were okay, Gordo was okay, everything was okay.
I stopped about a foot from the bed, as logic finally caught up with my brain. Gordo had been moved up to surgery. Which meant he was probably in the surgical ICU, not in here.
The person in the bed was a girl, about my age, dead to the world, lost in the unforgiving oblivion of a coma. I wondered where her family was, if she was going through this alone, poor girl. She looked so sad, so frail and lonely...I reached out and touched her hand lightly.
Then I pulled back quickly. What was I doing? I couldn't go around harassing all of the patients in the hospital. I wasn't her family. I wasn't allowed to be here. I could get kicked out of the hospital, and then I'd never get to see Gordo. A blind (albeit irrational) panic seized me, and I backed quickly out of the room, only to slam into something. Something warm and moving.
I whirled around. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I gasped. Sorry for bumping into them, sorry for being in this room, everything. I was certain it was the girl's parents, accusing eyes glaring at me, wondering why the hell I was disturbing their little girl's rest.
"Lizzie."
I had been trying to inch past them, staring at my shoes, but looked up at this. It wasn't a six-foot-tall angry father and his more petite, but equally angry wife. There was only one person, and it was Miranda. Impulsively I flung my arms around her, babbling. "Where's Gordo? Where is everyone?"
"Gordo got out of surgery a little while ago, and they moved him to the surgical ICU. Everyone else is up there now. I was supposed to stay with you and take you there when you woke up. I had to go pee," she admitted, blushing slightly.
"How...how is he? Did he make it? Is he okay?"
She averted her eyes from me, and I could feel a cold chill rushing through my body. "He's not okay, is he. Tell me. I can take it." I put on a brave semi-smile, but I think we both knew that I couldn't take it. I just prayed to anything and everything I could think of that he would be okay.
"Well, he made it out of surgery fine, they fixed him up, but he's still out cold."
"That's good, right?"
"I guess. I don't know. I mean, he's all patched up, so it's only a matter of time before he wakes up, I guess."
"Take me to him," I said. "Please."
~~~~~
The Sanchez parents, the Gordons, Mom, Dad, and Matt were all crammed into a tiny room that was holding three occupied beds. None of the people in the beds were awake, including Gordo.
"We're here," Miranda announced, and everyone turned to look at me.
I didn't see them. I just pushed through the group, or maybe they stepped aside for me, and I found my way to Gordo's bedside. I reached for his hand, a little chilly, but I could feel his pulse. I clasped it tightly in both of my own. "I'm here, Gordo," I said softly. "Sorry I'm late."
"Maybe we should give them some space," I thought I heard Mrs. Sanchez say, and I've never loved the woman as much as I did at that moment.
As the families paraded out of the room, I stared at Gordo's closed eyelids. I thought about his eyes. How blue they were, how they sparkled when he smiled, how sometimes when he was looking at you, it felt like he was looking into your soul. It felt like one big cliche, but it was true with Gordo, because he really did see you for the person you were inside. He really did see your soul.
I squeezed his hand slightly. "Gordo, please wake up. It's Lizzie. Please. Please wake up. For me?"
But I got no response. I loved him, I loved him so much, but I was no miracle worker. I hadn't been able to do anything. I hadn't been able to stop the accident, I hadn't been able to heal him, I hadn't been there when he'd woken up, I hadn't been there when he'd relapsed. I was worthless. He'd needed me, and I was never there.
I was here for him now, though.
I was here and I wasn't about to leave until he got to walk out with me.
Author's note: my apologies, this chapter's kind of short, and not very good. It's kinda filler. Stick with me, though, the next one gets better.
*Karasuma*Firestorm*
The Worst That Could Happen
Chapter Six: Thursday
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
I don't remember falling asleep. I don't know how long I slept. When I woke up, I was spread across a group of chairs, and didn't see anyone I recognized. The Gordons, the Sanchezes, my own family, all gone.
I sat up sharply, which only increased the headache I'd developed from using hard, molded plastic as a pillow. Blackness flashed in front of my eyes, but I shook my head slightly and it faded. I looked around. Nurses, orderlies, and doctors all bustled past, but none of them looked even remotely familiar in dealing with Gordo's case.
I stood up, and peered into what had been Gordo's room. Empty. Well, no, not empty...there was a person on the bed. Was it Gordo? Was he back from surgery already? How long had I been asleep?
I pranced into the room, elated with the thought that things were okay, Gordo was okay, everything was okay.
I stopped about a foot from the bed, as logic finally caught up with my brain. Gordo had been moved up to surgery. Which meant he was probably in the surgical ICU, not in here.
The person in the bed was a girl, about my age, dead to the world, lost in the unforgiving oblivion of a coma. I wondered where her family was, if she was going through this alone, poor girl. She looked so sad, so frail and lonely...I reached out and touched her hand lightly.
Then I pulled back quickly. What was I doing? I couldn't go around harassing all of the patients in the hospital. I wasn't her family. I wasn't allowed to be here. I could get kicked out of the hospital, and then I'd never get to see Gordo. A blind (albeit irrational) panic seized me, and I backed quickly out of the room, only to slam into something. Something warm and moving.
I whirled around. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I gasped. Sorry for bumping into them, sorry for being in this room, everything. I was certain it was the girl's parents, accusing eyes glaring at me, wondering why the hell I was disturbing their little girl's rest.
"Lizzie."
I had been trying to inch past them, staring at my shoes, but looked up at this. It wasn't a six-foot-tall angry father and his more petite, but equally angry wife. There was only one person, and it was Miranda. Impulsively I flung my arms around her, babbling. "Where's Gordo? Where is everyone?"
"Gordo got out of surgery a little while ago, and they moved him to the surgical ICU. Everyone else is up there now. I was supposed to stay with you and take you there when you woke up. I had to go pee," she admitted, blushing slightly.
"How...how is he? Did he make it? Is he okay?"
She averted her eyes from me, and I could feel a cold chill rushing through my body. "He's not okay, is he. Tell me. I can take it." I put on a brave semi-smile, but I think we both knew that I couldn't take it. I just prayed to anything and everything I could think of that he would be okay.
"Well, he made it out of surgery fine, they fixed him up, but he's still out cold."
"That's good, right?"
"I guess. I don't know. I mean, he's all patched up, so it's only a matter of time before he wakes up, I guess."
"Take me to him," I said. "Please."
~~~~~
The Sanchez parents, the Gordons, Mom, Dad, and Matt were all crammed into a tiny room that was holding three occupied beds. None of the people in the beds were awake, including Gordo.
"We're here," Miranda announced, and everyone turned to look at me.
I didn't see them. I just pushed through the group, or maybe they stepped aside for me, and I found my way to Gordo's bedside. I reached for his hand, a little chilly, but I could feel his pulse. I clasped it tightly in both of my own. "I'm here, Gordo," I said softly. "Sorry I'm late."
"Maybe we should give them some space," I thought I heard Mrs. Sanchez say, and I've never loved the woman as much as I did at that moment.
As the families paraded out of the room, I stared at Gordo's closed eyelids. I thought about his eyes. How blue they were, how they sparkled when he smiled, how sometimes when he was looking at you, it felt like he was looking into your soul. It felt like one big cliche, but it was true with Gordo, because he really did see you for the person you were inside. He really did see your soul.
I squeezed his hand slightly. "Gordo, please wake up. It's Lizzie. Please. Please wake up. For me?"
But I got no response. I loved him, I loved him so much, but I was no miracle worker. I hadn't been able to do anything. I hadn't been able to stop the accident, I hadn't been able to heal him, I hadn't been there when he'd woken up, I hadn't been there when he'd relapsed. I was worthless. He'd needed me, and I was never there.
I was here for him now, though.
I was here and I wasn't about to leave until he got to walk out with me.