Chapter 6

If God's The Game You're Playing

The following two days were uneventful. The news played the same information over and over. More people turned up in the school, both dead and alive. People still didn't tell Amy much about what was going on. At least two dozen funerals were being arranged, but she wasn't sure that they all had to do with the school shooting. Teachers and more friends had stopped by, and the elevators were still crowded with people, but she wasn't sure that they were there because of the shooting, or for their own family reasons, either.

Watching Ricky slowly progress was agonizing to her. He still had a tube in his throat, though his lungs had grown stronger, and he was starting to gain more control of his movements and surface from unconsciousness, everyone still saw that it was a struggle for him to do anything besides breathe.

The doctors drummed it simply up to the fact that his injuries were too severe; that he still was at risk of multi-system failure. Everyone one of them said his chances were too low, but that only reminded Amy of the time he'd told her about when he was born.

"You were premature," she asked curiously. Her son was kicking ferociously inside of her, and these last few weeks had been incredibly uncomfortable. She was so ready for her son to be out of her by now.

Ricky nodded, shifting off his knees and onto the floor as he moved his hands on her stomach. Their budding friendship was growing gradually, but Amy insisted she wouldn't deny him contact with his son. Sure, a part of her still hated him for putting her in this position, but she'd made her choice, and she was going to have to stick with him now, for the rest of her life.

"Every doctor said I had no chance," he began, rubbing the side of her stomach gently as his son kicked Amy hard. "I was born at 11 weeks early, and every doctor said even if I survived the first few days, or even the first few weeks, I still might die. They said I was too sick. Plus I'd been exposed to drugs while my biological mother was pregnant with me, so they worried that might hinder my health. And since I was born early, I was highly susceptible to an immune deficiency disorder. That's why my lungs are so bad," he spoke softly, looking up at her briefly.

She remembered shortly after John's birth, when he'd had the option to have a full lung transplant, but decided against it because he figured it would take too much recovery time. He'd even told her he was terrified that he gave the deficiency disorder to John the first time he got sick, though Dr. Hightower insisted after checking John over that he didn't.

"I hate this," he huffed, kicking an empty box.

Amy shifted John from one shoulder to the other, trying to calm him. "It's just a cold. He'll be okay."

"You don't get it," Ricky growled. "I told you before he was born. I have an immunodeficiency disorder. Every time he sneezes, I'm terrified I've passed it on to him."

Amy raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

Ricky sighed heavily and plopped down into her rocking chair, rubbing his head, frustrated. "Its called Primary Immunodeficiency, and generally presents when a child is young, discovered by their inability to fight off sickness as normal as someone else might. I've learned to live with it, which is why I avoid getting sick, but he's just a baby, Amy…"

Amy gulped, only starting to realize the fullness of what he was telling her. "And you won't have this lung transplant why?"

Ricky rolled his eyes. "I told you why."

Sometimes she wanted to kick him for how sarcastic he could be, just because he wanted to be a pain in her ass. He didn't want to have surgery because it would require him to wait on others. She almost wished now that they could still do the surgery; then he'd be healthier, and he'd already be recovering from other things, so it wouldn't matter.

The sad truth was, the last four days had been hell. She wanted to find a remote and rewind back to Friday morning, when it was 4 AM and he was still laying in her bed, telling her he had to leave before her parents woke up. She wanted to go back to sneaking around and being proud of the fact that even though they had a son together now, they could still be "bad" together. Sure, they were domesticated now for John, but they still had their fun and their quirks.

She wanted to rewind everything.

Amy yawned wearily, stretching her arms out as far as she could. She quickly pulled them back however, when she heard an 'oomph' following the meeting of her fist into someone else's arm. She opened her eyes wide, expecting to see Ashley laying next to her, but it wasn't. Wasn't Ashley in here the night before? Didn't she fall asleep next to Amy?

"Thanks. I'll be sure to come up with some stupid reason for this on my arm later," Ricky teased softly. He was moving off the bed, yanking his jeans on ferociously.

Amy yawned again, looking at him through bleary eyes. "Wasn't Ashley in here when I fell asleep?"

Ricky shrugged. "Probably. She left when I got here around 11. I gotta go before your parents wake up though. We don't want a repeat of last week," he trailed off. He moved towards the window, opening it slowly. If he moved it just right, it wouldn't- ahah! No squeaks.

"Wait," Amy suddenly shot up in her bed, reaching over to grab the tail of his jacket.

Ricky looked back at her, confused. "What, babe? I wanna get home and get a few more hours of sleep."

"Pick us up later? Please? We haven't been able to do that in days, and I miss it," she pouted.

Ricky couldn't help but smirk. "I'll try." He stepped back from the window and pushed her back down on the bed, kissing her lips softly. "Get some more sleep. John should be out at least until 7 now. I love you."

Amy blushed. "I love you too."

As soon as he turned back to the window, she rolled over in her covers, snuggling into his scent on her pillow and closed her eyes, letting sleep overcome her again as she blocked out the sounds of the window closing, and the obvious sound of someone shimmying down the side of the house.

"Why did I ask you to come that morning," she asked herself softly, though no one really heard her. He was still to out of it and everyone else was off getting dinner. She still wouldn't barely eat a thing. She needed to know he was okay first.

The clock chimed above Ricky's bed and she looked up, seeing that it was now 7 PM. George had insisted they'd all be back at 6:30, but there had been a major pileup on the highway, so Amy wasn't expecting any miracles. Paige had told her that the news was estimating at least an hour of backed up traffic because of cleanup and investigation, not to mention rerouting traffic.

She jumped, her focus suddenly changing when she heard a sound like choking; Ricky moved only slightly, but enough to catch her attention. She jumped up, hitting the call button immediately. His eyes fluttered only slightly, before it happened again.

Dr. Nosh walked in the room, smiling lightly at Amy. "What's seems to be the problem?"

"H-he sounds like he's choking," Amy spat out quickly. The sound terrified her more than anything. What if he couldn't breathe?

Dr. Nosh moved the hospital gown down on Ricky's chest and listened to his breaths. After a few minutes, he nodded and removed his stethoscope from his ears, wrapping it around his neck again. "The news appears to be good. He's starting to breathe more on his own. If things continue to progress this way, then tomorrow or Thursday, we should be to pull the tube out. Right now we're most worried that he be able to breathe and that he's taking in an adequate air supply. Without the tube, he'd likely go into multi-system failure."

Amy nodded. "I know. You guys have been telling us this for the last three days. Honestly, I'm sick of hearing it."

Ricky's eyes fluttered again, only a little more this time, though they still didn't open. Dr. Noth took notice to this and pulled a light from his pocket. He turned the light on and lifted Ricky's left eyelid, flashing the light past his pupil several times. He repeated the same movement with his right eye.

"There's some reaction. He may be starting to react more to surroundings. Page me if he wakes up," Dr. Noth spoke softly, putting his light back into his pocket. He checked the IV bag and then turned away, walking out of the room.

Amy exhaled, though there was a sense of melancholy in it. "What are we becoming, Ricky?" She only spoke it loud enough for herself to hear it, but it seemed as if he heard her anyway. The sound he emitted was soft, almost strangled, but she heard it anyway. Tears burned her eyes and she stood, pushing her wheelchair back so she didn't trip on it. She was grateful to not be on restriction to her room now, because she needed to get out of this room.

As she stood there, she thought about leaning down and kissing him, but it just seemed worthless. It wasn't like he could kiss her back. She moved around the bed and walked over to the door, opening it. As she stared back at him, she had to fight the urge just to convince herself to do this. They couldn't become codependent. She needed to have her own life.

She walked out of the room and down the hall, and stared into the visiting room. It was empty, other than the furniture, some vending machines, and a computer. She had intended to go inside and sit down; take some time to rest without being with Ricky, but now all she could do was stand there. Every time she closed her eyes, she remembered more from what had happened. It felt like an unrelenting nightmare, repeating over and over in her brain, but more vivid than that. It was like all the sounds were heightened and burning in her brain. She wished it was just that; a nightmare. Unfortunately, she was living it.

She thought back to the last time she was standing in front of a room like this. John had just been born and some family from her dad's side had come from out of town to see the baby. Everything else had been happier then. She had been smiling. There had been only good to look forward to. Now it just felt like everything was crashing down like fine china, onto the floor and shattering.

She opened the door to the room and walked in, and stood there. She didn't dare sit down; sitting down meant she was comfortable being in there; being away from Ricky. She wasn't comfortable. She was losing her mind.

She walked over to the computer, done and tired of not knowing what other people knew outside of the building. Maybe if she read about what was going on in the world, she would feel a little better about her current situation.

Amy wasted no time getting onto the local new station's website. The page splashed up with updates and articles about the school shooting. She clicked one link and waited patiently as the headline loaded before she began to read.

Three Dozen Dead; Still No News

Three dozen students and two teachers are known about at this moment to have been killed in the shooting that took place on Friday. Little information is being given on the condition of those survivors in the hospital.

Most curiously, everyone is still searching for information on the two teenagers whose escape was caught on camera by multiple stations. At this time, their names still have not been released to the press, although sources close to friends of the students claim that they are alive.

She quickly grew bored, rolling her eyes as she went back to the main page and scrolled through the list of names of the deceased. She knew several people; one senior, who had helped her a few times in band while she was pregnant. He'd been nice to her, but when she started crushing on him, he insisted all he wanted to be was friends. She hadn't talked to him much after that.

Most of the dead students were girls, and somehow that didn't surprise her. A few were cheerleaders, but some were girls in the band that she knew. One of the girls on the list, she'd even come to know personally. They'd hung out a few times while Amy was a freshman, but a lot more after John was born. It turned out that the girl's older sister had been a teen mother, so she was used to a scream baby at all hours of the night. She only prayed that that was the only funeral she'd be attending.

Amy scrolled down the page some more before she clicked on something titled "In Development".

Though little is being said about the two unnamed students who exited Grant High School on Friday with Det. Ruben Enriquez, WXXI claims to have an exclusive interview coming later this week.

She rolled her eyes again and clicked out of the browser, leaning back in the chair. Why the hell were people spreading these lies when she hadn't even heard the mention of having an interview with a TV station. Further more, why did people even care about what had happened to them? It's not like they were the first school shooting that had ever happened.

The door opened behind her and she sat up, turning around, only to see Ashley standing there, panting. "I ran up. Its pouring again outside and everyone's soaked."

Amy nodded, standing from the chair she was sitting in. "Did anyone get hurt," she asked quickly.

"No," Ashley raised an eyebrow at her. "Why would they be?"

Amy shrugged. "I dunno. Just making sure."

Ashley stepped around her and sat down at the computer. "I'm gonna check my email. The doctor said Ricky's coming around more."

Amy nodded. "I know. He was starting to try and open his eyes and trying to breathe on his own when I left the room," she spoke softly.

Ashley shrugged. "Oh. Well I think he meant that he's awake."

Amy's eyes went wide and she turned quickly, rushing out of the room without another word. She dashed down the hall, walking into the open room, only to be stopped by her mother and father blocking the doorway.

"You need to wait a few minutes," her mother spoke softly. "He's panicking. He doesn't understand why he there's a tube in his throat."

Amy's shoulders slumped and she sighed heavily, trying to see past her father. She could hear him trying to make noise, as well as his parents voices, trying to calm him. She pushed forcibly past her father, only to yelp as her IV line and caught on something, inevitably pulling it from the tape holding it down, out of her skin.

Dr. Noth looked up to see Amy holding her hand to her chest, wincing more at the pain of the IV being pulled out, than the blood seeping past her fingers. Her father stepped forward and pulled her hand back, placing a napkin over it. "I'll get a bandaid and a nurse to restart the IV. You sit tight."

Amy groaned, plopping down in a chair while her father held the napkin firmly against her hand. She wasn't bleeding too much, but the removal of the IV had hardly been professional, so it was better to be safe, rather than sorry.

"How did it pull out anyway," Amy grumbled as she finished pulling off the tape on her hand.

"I wasn't watching where I was walking and I accidentally stepped on it," Anne admitted as she shifted Robbie from one side to the other.

Amy thought to say something, but she couldn't really blame her mother. She'd done a lot of klutzy things with John after he was born. Hell, she still did a lot of klutzy things.

Dr. Noth returned a minute later with a nurse who began the preparations of a new IV line. Once she had it set up, she took Amy's other hand and administered a new IV before she attached the IV tubing to it and let the drip begin.

When it dawned on her that Ricky had seen this entire ordeal, guilt washed over Amy in waves. He'd already been freaking out, and now she was scaring the hell out of him because she couldn't watch where she was going? She mentally kicked herself, turing her attention to him.

"I've missed you," she muttered softly, moving the wheelchair closer to him. She took his hand in hers, though it required her to reach halfway across his body, she didn't care.

Ricky smiled, or at least he tried; between the ventilator tube going into his mouth and the tape holding it down, it wasn't an easy feat. He still wasn't sure he fully understood what was going on with his own body, but he'd been in this position before; one of the few times his father had found him in foster care before going to prison. He preferred to not think about that.

After a minute, Amy looked up at him again, this time reaching up to brush her fingers against his cheek. He rested his head wearily against her hand, clearly comforted by the feeling. "I said yes. I'll marry you."

Though the tape over his mouth kept Ricky from giving her a real smile, he didn't have to. The tears gleaming in his eyes were enough to tell her that he was just as happy as she was. She brushed one of them away and stood slightly, leaning over the bed to kiss the corner of his mouth before she settled back in her chair.

It would be another long couple of days, but she was pretty sure that after what they'd just survived, together she and Ricky could survive just about anything together.