A/N: Today's your lucky day! Enjoy the chapter :)

~~~ Riley's Point of View~~~ Chapter Ten: Hold My Hand

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" I asked, brushing a stray strand of hair out of Maya's eyes.

"No, I'm not, and I know I'm not," she said, narrowing her eyes determinedly. "But I have to do this. I can 't be stuck in this tiny hospital room for much longer." She sighed as her gaze flicked towards the wheelchair parked next to her bed. "I wish I could just recover faster, the I wouldn't have to be confined to that thing."

I shook my head, exasperated. "You're never going to get over this wheelchair thing, are you?" she shook her head. "Until your legs heal, you won't be able to walk. When that time comes, you won't need a wheelchair," I said carefully, making sure to say when. Not if. When. She was going to be fine... right?

About a month and a half had passed since the accident, and gradually, Maya was getting better and better. Her left arm and both of her legs were broken, but she had gotten lucky. No major organs had been harmed. With lots of rest, she was expected to make a full recovery, with the exception of her legs, which the doctors were still uncertain of.

Now Maya was sitting up, squeezing my hand with the non-broken one. Her cast-covered legs were swung over the side of the bed, her toes touching the floor, waiting to be released.

"Hey, Riley?" she asked, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She opened them again, and blinked at me, her blue eyes brimming with tears. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," I nodded, sure that I knew where this was going to lead. She didn't actually think she was going to be okay. She was scared, and she had every right to be. "You can ask me anything."

"Anything? Anything at all?" she asked, hope alight in her eyes.

"Anything," I said firmly.

She looked down. "Riles, I'm scared. What if I don't recover? What if I never walk again and I'm confined to this wheelchair my whole life?"

I stroked her hair with my free hand. "Maya," I said softly, trying to sound gentle. "Stop thinking like that. You are going to recover, you are going to walk again. You will not be stuck in a wheelchair your whole life. Do you understand me?"

"But how do you know that, Riley?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but then the cold, hard truth hit me like a ton of bricks, and my mouth snapped shut. I couldn't prove how I knew this because...

I didn't know.

I couldn't fix this. If there was one thing in the world that I couldn't help with my 'twisted need to fix things' as Maya would call it, it was this. There was absolutely nothing that I could do to reassure her. I couldn't make promises if I couldn't keep them.

The thought of not being able to help killed me.

I hated it.

Before either of us could do or say anything, my parents walked in, followed by a pair of doctors. After running one last X-ray, the doctors assisted Maya into the wheelchair. Papers were signed, and soon, she was free to go.

"Are you ready, Maya?" Mom asked.

"Of course I'm ready," Maya said without hesitation. "Why wouldn't I be?" she glanced in my direction, her eyes wide. Realizing that she was acting suspicious, she let out a forced laugh. "I've been ready since I got into this mess."

Mom eyed her for a second. She turned to Dad, a worried look on her face. As if we couldn't see her, she mouthed 'You handle this, Cory.'

Dad froze for a second. He smiled awkwardly down at Maya, who patiently waited to leave, tapping her fingers against the armrest. He took a deep breath, taking her hand into his. His face gained a serious look.

"Look, Maya," he said gently. "Are you sure you're ready? Because if you're not-"

"I'm ready," Maya said firmly, stopping him from continuing with the rambling he would have no doubt started. "As ready as I'll ever be."

...

We wheeled her through the hospital. The elevator was just down the hall from us when her grip on my hand tightened considerably. Throughout the elevator ride, we were silent.

The closer we got to the doors, the tighter she squeezed. She swallowed hard as Mom opened the door.

Maya's grip loosened up as we pushed her outside. She gazed around in amazement, the look of excitement on her face the equivalent of a child's in a candy store.

"It's so... bright!" she cried, squinting into the sunlight. "I almost forgot how it feels to be ou- Eek!"

Her squeal made me jump a bit. I opened my mouth to question her when I followed her gaze.

She was staring at the cars passing by on the road. Her muscles tensed and her grip on my hand was tighter than it was before. Her fingers began to tremble, and her eyes gained a faraway look to them.

She tried to say something, but her voice seemed to not want to work. "That-that.." was all she managed to say, and even that came out at a hoarse whisper.

"Maya, sweetie, it's okay," Mom soothed, stroking her back in an attempt to calm her down.

"I want my mom," she whimpered softly. Tears streamed down her face.

My heart shattered into a million pieces. This wasn't the Maya I knew.

I had talked to Katy. She had told me about what Maya told her. Their relationship had definitely improved a lot in the past month and a half.

Katy had plead with her boss, gotten down on her knees to beg for him to let her off of work so she could be there when Maya was released. But if she went, she'd get fired, and she couldn't afford for that to happen.

"I know you do, and you'll see her soon, I promise," I told her softly. She blinked up at me, her ocean blue eyes brimming with tears. She took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut and loosening her grip on my hand.

"I'm going to be okay," she whispered under her breath. "I'm gonna be okay..." she opened her eyes, a determined look on her face. "I'm okay," she said firmly.

"Are you sure?" I asked her. She smiled at me, and for a moment it was as if she were still the same old Maya I knew.

"I'm always okay, Riles," Maya told me. "What makes you think that I wouldn't be?" she flashed me a grin. I shook my head, deciding it was best that I didn't answer that.

"Yeah, whatever," I told her, smiling. My best friend was back to her old self. At least for now.