Author: Patrick
Title: She Didn't Get Off the Plane
AN: Sorry it's taken me so long to update and that this chapter is kind of short. We're getting close to the end here and I'm still debating between the happy ending and the sad ending. Guess we'll have to wait and see….anyway thanks for the reviews and please keep them coming!
Chapter 12
Rachel wasn't sure how long she'd been out when she awoke. With labored movements she propped herself upright in bed, eliciting a familiar pain in her stomach that she had chalked up to a mixture of spasm and starvation. She gently rubbed the haze of sleep from her eyes with the sides of her knuckles. Pulling her hands away, she blinked a few times and then gasped, discovering that her visual acuity had returned. She took her first long look at her new surroundings. The first things she saw were her hands, of which the image was both relieving and disconcerting. They'd become hauntingly thin and emaciated and the normally well-manicured fingernails were frayed and cracked at their tips. The skin on them was slightly more tanned than she'd remembered, but that could be explained by the fact that she'd been stuck outside for over a week. It also had an unpleasant sheen to it, but she blamed that on the ever-so-flattering fluorescent light that was blasting down mercilessly from its fixture on the ceiling. Traversing slightly upwards from her hands, she saw the point of a needle in her left wrist connected to an IV bag of some clear liquid. Normal saline, she hoped, momentarily fearing the worst of the substance. The skin on her arms, which had grown dirty on the island from sweat and sand, looked surprisingly smooth and fresh as if it had been washed. She then noted that her tattered travel clothes had been replaced by a faded-looking white hospital gown that sagged loosely over her thin shoulders and scooped low at the neck, scarcely concealing her breasts. Looking downward, she saw a clean-looking white sheet draped over her legs, stopping around her waist where the crook of her seated form prohibited it from covering her any further.
Everything else around her seemed like a typical hospital room. The bed upon which she was resting and its adjustable metal frame resembled the standard-hospital-issue ones she'd seen friends and relatives occupy in the past. In the rear corner of the room to her left there was a white table with four built-in drawers. To her right there was an EKG machine, IV stands, and various other little notches and tubes located near and against the back wall that, in Rachel's estimation, served some dire function that she was thankful for not needing. There were two doors in the room. The first was made of solid faux wood and was slightly ajar, but the slit between the door and the jamb was filled with darkness, so Rachel could only guess that it was a bathroom. The other door was also faux wood but had a small rectangular window along the right side above a metal latch-style doorknob. On the other side of the window, the glow of fluorescent light illuminated a few more feet of drab white wall but, from her current viewpoint, Rachel could not see anything else. Curious to see what was outside, she considered getting up and investigating but decided against it, not knowing if her body was up for the challenge and not wanting to find out the hard way. It was then that she noticed the absence of a television, which she thought to be a common appliance in hospital rooms for patients expected to have any reasonable length of residence.
"I guess I'll just have to sit here and wait," she reckoned impatiently.
Suddenly, as if in response to her thought, darkness filled the doorway window as the silhouette of a figure eclipsed the light from outside. A face materialized through the small pane of glass, causing Rachel's heart to leap when her eyes locked with the familiar deep brown ones that were looking in at her. She recognized them immediately. The knob turned for what seemed like an eternity and the latch clicked as it released, allowing the door to swing open and reveal the full visage of the man standing on the other side of it.
"You're awake!" exclaimed the visitor as he nearly ran into the room with excitement. He wrapped his arms around her and embraced her gently but fiercely at the same time. She returned the gesture, hugging him tightly and stroking his back as if to reassure herself that he was really there. After several moments, they both pulled back and exchanged grins. Rachel studied his face for a moment. Aside from the signs of happiness and relief, he didn't look well. His skin was a little pale and his eyes looked very tired as if he'd been under a tremendous amount of stress. She knew it had something to do with her, despite not wanting to feel self-absorbed. She quickly dismissed all thoughts on that matter, knowing they'd talk about it soon enough. For now, he was there and that was enough.
"J-Joey..." she managed to croak out before her emotions overwhelmed her and tears began to flow down her face.
"That's right," he replied soothingly. He pulled her back into his arms again. "Joey's here," he confirmed, kissing her tenderly on the forehead. She stayed in his arms for several more moments, crying openly and dampening his shirt.