So this was originally a one-shot, with a tiny bit added onto chapter one. I have been convinced to turn this into a longer thing. Thank you to my Beta E (my very own version). I am not sure how long this will be, so...
Decisions.
How can he make decisions about this? How could he possibly decide on her life? He rests his head against the window, looking out over the hospital grounds, traffic and wildlife mingling.
He wants to scream or break something.
Part of him wonders what they missed. The level of security was impressive and part of him blames them for this. How did they miss something as fundamental as a bomb? Then the rational side of him reminds him that they are only human, that all the security in the world can't protect you from the inevitable.
A machine beeps and his attention is back on her. He can't discern anything from just looking but the lack of movement from the nurse outside tells him it was routine. He scoffs at that, none of this is routine.
He sits back down and starts talking if only to fill the silence. "Babe, I called the Kids. They are on their way. It took me forever to track down Allie. I called Will too. I…" He chokes up at that, Will had sounded shattered on the phone between all the static. He's on his way but it's going to be a while. He kisses her hand, "Baby I need you to fight. I know you can hear me. I know it hurts. Please, fight!" He is used to the lack of response now; he shakes his head at that. Two days and he is already getting used to the silence.
He picks up the book the nurse found him, poetry by Oscar Wilde. He's not sure if it's helping but it gives him something to focus on. So, he reads, stopping occasionally to remind her of their past that links to the poem. He feels vaguely ridiculous, but he would jump off buildings for her.
The nurses want him to leave while they gave her a sponge bath, but he refuses. Insistent that he will do it. He's taken care of her through illness and childbirth, he will not stop now. The nurse relents at his sorrow and lets him help. He feels ashamed of his gasp and the need to retch at her injuries. It makes it all the more real and vivid to see her damaged skin. He excuses himself to the bathroom while they change her dressings. Sat on the cold floor, he cries silent tears of horror and pain.
He kisses her cheek, neck and hand once he returns, silently apologizing for his reaction and everything else. The guilt burns at his insides and he honestly doesn't know how to go forward. When the nurse returns to do OBS he asks if there is a chapel. He reluctantly leaves her, with instructions to the staff that they need to fetch him immediately if anything changes.
The chapel is almost empty when he gets there. He sits in a chair in the back corner and tries to centre his mind. He attempts to pray but the words clog his throat and all he feels is anger and desolation. He's not sure how long he sits there, alternatively staring at the ceiling and floor.
Always avoiding the cross upfront.
An older woman eventually sits down next to him and touches his hand gently. "Would you like me to pray with you?" He nods, words having long failed him. As she prays, he cries silent tears, desperately wanting to find comfort in this nightmare. Afterwards, she looks at him, turning slightly on the chair to meet his eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?" He stares at her for a while, searching for an answer. "It's fine if you don't, often there are no words." He nods and sighs at that. She hands him a card. "There is always someone available 24/7."
As she walks away, he mumbles a weak "Thank you." He pockets the card and gazes at his hands for a moment, stretching his fingers in time with the blood rushing in his ears.
The walk back to her room is slow and each step burns in his soul. He feels adrift, lost and alone in a sea of grief and pain. He doesn't know how to make this right. How to find meaning or answers. He is not even sure what he is supposed to do. He has no answers for anyone. He watches her through the glass window. She is so still, skin pale and clammy. He doesn't recognize her, and he certainly doesn't recognize the reflection he catches in the light. They have become strangers. It's never quiet here, always the sounds of machines and the quiet hum of the staff blending into a din that settles across his consciousness.
The hours pass and he watches her. If he angles his view just right, he can convince himself she is sleeping. Blake had brought him food earlier; it sits abandoned on the hospital tray. He has no appetite. He feels mildly guilty at how dismissive he had been towards Blake. He frankly hadn't even thought about her staff. He can only see her and when he closes his eyes, he sees a white flash and his world collapsing.
He must sleep at some point, a nurse gently nudging him awake. He starts badly, confusion filling him until he focuses on the room. They take her for another scan, and he sits staring at the empty spot wondering if this is a premonition of what is to come.
When they bring her back, doctors appearing soon afterwards. He doesn't want them here, not when the only news they bring is off the end.
Decisions.
More decisions to make. He has no answers. He wants her back. It's that simple and he is not sure they can ever give him that. He agrees to more surgery, more things for them to try and fix. In what is possibly a vain hope, but he can't consider that yet.
The nurse tells him it will be hours and encourages him to go eat or take a walk. "Maybe go back to the hotel, we can call you." He shakes his head at that, he can't leave her. He won't. He promised her that before and most especially now.
He finds a garden on the grounds, a cool breeze ruffling the lake where a fountain makes mist patterns in the air. He watches it until the grief consumes even his vision and all he can see is mist. He's not sure how long he sits there. He notices eventually that Blake has joined him. Sandwiches and coffee were placed between them on the bench. He nods, lacking even words right now. He forces himself to eat, even though each mouthful tastes of cardboard and defeat. His hope is floating with the mist. Blake broaches conversation, hesitating on the words like he is baiting a bear. "Stevie called, she and Jason are on their way." He barely acknowledges that. "I've arranged for a car to pick them up at the airport. They will be here later this afternoon."
He had told them not to come. Wanting to spare them this horror until….
He's not sure what, but a part of him had shuddered at their children seeing her like this. He knows he's being unfair. Selfish even.
It's all too much.
He knows they have a right to be here. To have the opportunity to say goodbye. He gasps at that thought. While the Doctors have been clear, he is not ready to face that outcome. He is not sure he ever will be. Instead, he watches the fountain and tries to think of happier times. Conjures her sparkling eyes and smirk in his mind. The way she feels in his arms. Her laugh. Her everything. He coats himself in it and lets himself drift, only for a moment. Reality is too harsh. His memories are interrupted by the shrill ringing of a phone. Blake touches his arm gently. "The surgery was successful; they are bringing her back now." He stands up at that and starts to walk, pausing by the fountain he looks at Blake properly for the first time. "Thank you. For everything. I…." Blake stands too and places a hand on his shoulder.
"Focus on Elizabeth. I will handle the rest." He nods in gratitude. He knows it's not fair, but it is taking all his energy to remain standing at this point.