Chapter Two-Hundred and Ninety-One

Vernon smiled as John flipped through a few channels, holding up the VCR player and a few tapes. "Thought you might like to watch some Star Wars."

John wheezed a laugh, a tired smile gracing his cracked lips. "Thanks… Richey…" He winced, pressing a hand over his chest as the infection bounced like a water balloon in his lungs. "I was getting sick of the dumbass cartoons and news."

Vernon chuckled, standing on a chair to set the VCR up with the tv. "You'll just have to ask for help changing the tapes out, and switching it between channels." He popped a tape into the player, settling into the recliner and watching the film with him.

John tugged at the brace around his neck, his long fingers quickly finding the clasps and undoing them before Vernon could stand from his chair. "I feel like I can't breathe with it on."

Vernon shook his head, watching John's chest heave with labored breaths. "You can't breathe either way."

"It feels like it's choking me then." John slowly moved his head to the side, ignoring the pain and stiffness from not moving his neck of so long. "I'm so sick of just laying here."

Vernon nodded, gently moving the blankets around John's body, being careful of the IVs, leads, catheter, and many other hoses and wires attached to the kid's body. "Well, maybe we can work something out to let you move around a little."

John rasped a laugh, a crooked smile spreading over his lips. "Sounds good."

Andy held Claire close as she cried into his chest. He knew that seeing John in the hospital was hard enough for her, and now that Jessica had ripped John's nickname jacket to shreds, he was worried that if John didn't recover soon, that she might go insane. "Hey, why don't we go see him?" He asked, aching to see his friend.

"No… I can't see him right now." She sobbed, tucking her knees between their bodies like John always let her do when she was scared. "I don't want to tell him."

Andy pressed his lips into a thin line, remembering how John had called out for Claire in his sleep when he was still drugged up from having his lungs drained. "He wants you Claire." He stated, almost able to hear John's raspy broken cries for her. "He needs to know that you're fighting for him —that you believe he can pull through." He thought back to what Vernon had told him after he'd returned from the hospital, about John having plummeted when he'd waited for hours for Claire to show up, how he'd practically given up fighting. "He's unconscious again. He needs you."

Claire looked up at him, her eyes swollen and red from the tears. "He needs to get out of that damn bed!" She croaked, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "If Ryan keeps him there, unable to move, he'll die in that bed if he can't move." She knew that John was naturally antsy, and that he hated sitting still for long periods of time. He'd gotten better since they'd repaired his bad leg, but he still fussed and squirmed when he couldn't move. She had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with a moving target is harder to hit, but she was never quite sure of all that happened in his past —though she did know that he was affected by it every day of his life and would be for some time. "He needs to get out and do something. Even if he just stands up to pee." Despite the fact that she hated to think of what might happen if John did move, she hated the idea of seeing him so miserable if he didn't move. "Just something."

Thomas paused at her door, holding up a shiny silver band in his fingers. "Maybe try this for a start."

Claire gasped, rushing to her father and taking the ring from him. "You found it!" She traced her fingertip over the engraving on the inside, the words 'My Protector' carved into the metal. "You found his ring."

"Leon had it. And since he's gonna be spending the next twenty years in prison, he didn't need it anymore." He smirked, slipping the ring onto Claire's thumb and letting her rush off to see John and replace the ring in its rightful home on John's hand.