A/N Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed this story. Sorry for the long break between updates. Four more chapters are left! Thank you to Bellarsam Chrisjulirating for betaing this story.
Alive
Everything was dark, and everything was black. His eyelids felt heavy, as if a thick curtain were blocking out the light. How he wanted to see the sun, and how he wanted anything to take him out of the darkness that consumed him. He could not see, and he could not think. He heard voices…was it the angels opening the door of heaven? No, it could not be – pain filled his body, like a fire it consumed him. Darkness and fire…he knew where he was. With a whimper, he tried to accept his fate and face the inferno.
For two days, Maria stayed by his side, only leaving for a few hours at night to fall into an exhausted slumber. Mid-morning, on the third day since he was brought in, she heard him whimper and moan in pain. Instantly she was by his side, stroking his hand and pleading with him to wake up. He did not. Maria prayed, cried, spoke to him, made sure he was comfortable in the hope that he would respond. "Georg, its Maria, please wake up," she implored quietly. Taking his cold, limp, right hand in hers, she stroked it with a circular motion and waited for him to wake up as the sun rose higher in the sky.
Brilliant light filled the room as Georg opened his eyes. The light was warm, though the fire in his broken body still burned. His weak eyes landed on a figure in white…An angel, he thought. He felt his eyelids grow heavy and close as the angel in white spoke to him in words he could not distinguish in his state. He wanted to listen and he wanted to question the angel, but darkness once more consumed him.
For a few brief moments, Georg was awake. And though his blue eyes were filled with pain, for the first time in three days Maria was hopeful. His breathing improved and his wounds were healing.
Close to sunset, he opened his eyes once more. Maria was instantly by his side.
"Georg, Georg," she called, stroking his hand and trying to coax him to stay awake with her voice. Confusion and pain clouded his eyes. "It's me, Maria; you are in Bremerhaven, at the hospital," she explained. "You were injured and brought here."
Against his will, his eyelids grew heavy again; he so wanted to talk to her. He wanted to drink, he wanted to remove the mask that was on his face, but his arms felt like lead. He felt Maria squeeze his hand. Weakly, he squeezed back before he once again fell into the realm of darkness.
Georg woke again when it was dark. He tried to speak, but no words came out. His throat was dry and his lips were parched. He heard someone shuffle around in the darkness, and suddenly a dim light shone above his head. He felt cool water touch his lips and, like a desperate man, he gulped down the water.
"You are breathing better, so the doctor removed your oxygen mask."
His eyes searched for the source of the voice and landed on Maria's beautiful and worried face.
She wiped water from his chin. Georg wanted to tell her he did not need her help, but simply drinking sapped whatever energy he had.
"Maria…" Georg rasped.
"Yes."
"You are here," he said in disbelief.
"Yes," she shakily replied.
"I dreamt you were here." He clumsily extended his good arm towards her. She took his hand, blinking back tears. He squeezed her hand before closing his eyes.
"How long?"
"Four days, almost five."
"How bad?"
"Two gunshot wounds, a few cracked ribs, and a lot of blood loss. You must be in a lot of pain." His eyes fluttered open as she spoke.
"I've been in worse," he rasped. He tried to flash her a grin to reassure her, but it came out as a pained grimace.
"I'll give you something for it and let the doctor know your awake. Everyone has been very anxious about you."
"I'm sure they have…" He sighed as his eyes closed again.
Maria squeezed his hand once more as she rose to leave the room. "I'll go and get the doctor."
Two days later, Maria was in Georg's room before he woke. It was a sunny, April morning, and Maria lifted the window open, letting the cool fresh air in. The birds outside were chirping merrily. Maria stood by the window with her back facing Georg, breathing in the scent of the budding trees. For the first time in months, she felt herself truly smile, truly breathe freely. He was safe and alive. True, he was severely injured, but he was steadily recovering. Perhaps fate has given them another chance.
Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't notice Georg watching her from his bed. "Good morning," he said, his voice still heavy with sleep.
"Captain, you are up!" she exclaimed, startled and happy to see him awake.
"Georg," he reminded her as she blushed deeply.
In the next moment, she was by his side as he struggled to sit up.
"I'm fine," he grimaced as he leaned against his pillow. He took her assisting hand off his shoulder and placed a quick kiss on it. She blushed again, and after he was settled, she returned to bedside with a bed pan in hand.
"No," Georg firmly stated with a horrified look in his face when he noticed the object she was holding. Having been no stranger to injuries, he knew exactly what was to happen next.
"You need to; the doctor removed the cathedar last night."
"I do not need to go," he muttered, his pale face growing red.
"Georg –"
"Well I don't," he said, stubbornly reminding her of one of his children.
"Your bladder is full; you need to empty it."
"I'll walk, then."
"You are too weak."
"I'm not."
"I'm a nurse, Georg. I do this dozens of times each day."
He muttered something under his breath; Maria was unsure if she heard something about being a nun.
"Georg, please, this is my work."
Not looking at her, he finally nodded and relented. When task was done, Maria left him alone for a few minutes. When she returned with a tray of liquids for him to eat, she found him sitting up, his face flaming red and his eyes closed. Quietly, she placed the food beside his bed and let him continue to pretend to sleep.
She stifled a sigh; feeding him would to wait. Perhaps helping him recover would be harder than she thought
"Stop pestering me," Georg sighed, his patience wearing thin. "I am not a child."
"You are sure acting like one," Maria retorted, which earned her a glare from him that she matched.
They had spent the last fifteen minutes quarreling over his food, which he refused eat. "For the hundredth time, I am not hungry, if you can even consider calling this food," Georg said, eyeing the juice and jello on his tray with contempt.
"Your body has not eaten in seven days, and you suffered abdominal injuries. So until you can digest properly, you can't progress to solids."
"Like a baby…will I be given a diaper or isn't a bed pan humiliating enough?" he replied with a huff, reminding her of the bed pan fiasco of earlier.
"I haven't decided yet," Maria replied, trying to keep a straight face as her anger at him melted. He really was behaving like one of his children.
"Are you like this with all of your patients?"
"Just the ones I care about."
He muttered a string of phrases in Italian she could not understand, but they certainly sounded unsavory. He was, after all, fluent in many languages from his travels around the world. But she knew she had won this argument.
She started to lift the jello. "I can manage a damn spoon," he growled.
"Yes, sir" Maria replied coolly, handing him the jello and spoon. The curse he let slip felt like a slap.
She watched him as he ate and drank. He was still very weak, and his hand-eye coordination was off from the pain medication, but he stubbornly managed feeding himself with his uninjured hand.
"I'll clean up, and them you should rest," Maria said, removing his tray. His eyes closed as she cleaned his tray, and she imagined he was tired after spending most of the day arguing with her. She also knew that rest was not going to come easy for him over the next few days, as the doctor was slowly easing him off his pain medication.
Taking a wet cloth, she wiped his face and neck clean. She checked his injuries and re-bandaged his shoulder and chest. After dressing his battered body in a new gown, she helped him lie down. While earlier he stubbornly argued with her, he was now quiet and resigned, and his body was surprisingly limp as she worked. The fact that he did not fight her worried her.
"Georg," she said softly when she finished. "Are you alright?"
"No – yes...I'm fine," he said quietly, with his eyes still closed tight.
Carefully, Maria sat on the edge of his bed. She grasped his hand and gently rubbed it in soft smoothing circles, wordlessly prodding him to continue talking.
"I'm sorry for being difficult. I hate this…I always did…" He replied flatly.
"Everybody does," she said gently. "It's hard for anyone to depend on others for basic things."
She watched a muscle in his jaw work furiously as he tried to control his emotions. She shifted closer to him and, with her free hand, she stroked his cheek, mindful of the bruises there.
At her touch, his eyes finally opened and met hers. His blue-grey eyes were almost white as tears were threatening to fall, while her blue-greens were filled with compassion and love.
"Are you like this with all of your patients?" he asked again in a wavering voice.
"No…just the ones I love," she said, running a gentle hand over his growing stubble.
Georg nodded and tried to laugh, his body shaking as his laughter turned to sobs.
Maria shifted even closer, and embraced his trembling body as he sobbed. Her face centimeters from his, she boldly kissed him on the lips.
"You're alive, Georg," she said, overcome with emotion. "Seven days ago, you almost died." They kissed again. "I almost lost you." A stronger kiss. "Your children almost lost you. But you're here – alive."
"Alive," he croaked.
"Yes…alive."
"Alive."
They kissed once more, and Maria held him till she felt his exhausted body grow limp as sleep finally overcame him.
