Annndd we have Cammie(: sort of... OH well ahah there's only two more chapters left till it's over and trust me...those are just like fluffy zammie to the max... just letting you know...if you're good i'll upload the next one tomorrow :P or today who knows ;) anyways Read. Enjoy. Review.

One Year from the Incident

It's been a week since they said that Cammie woke up. I've been trying to get inside to see her but every time I enter the hospital floor a nurse or a doctor shoos me out. They haven't even given me a reason as to why I can't see her. They said that her burns healed nicely and she would be one hundred percent okay in the next month or so. They're going to release her in a couple of days, but I want to see her before then. I can't think of a reason why they wouldn't want me to see her if she was perfectly fine. Was it them who didn't want me to see her or her who didn't want to see me?

Now, I could have broken into the hospital using any of my various breaking-and-entering specialties but breaking into a hospital for my own gain didn't settle right in my stomach. But, then again, neither did not being able to see my wife after she's been comatose for a year. As much as I wanted to see Cammie, breaking into a hospital didn't seem right. It was also a CIA hospital so the security was sure to be top notch.

Bex came home yesterday after another failed attempt at seeing Cammie. If she wasn't broken before, she definitely is now. After waiting long, sorrowful, heart-wrenching months for Cammie to wake up, Cammie doesn't even want to see her.

"Of all the god-damned ungrateful people." She mumbled. Her line of obscenities continued after that, cursing Cammie and herself for not just storming in there and yelling at Cammie herself. Grant tried to calm his wife down, but nothing seemed to be working. A couple of months ago, Bex and Grant announced that they were going to have a kid. I don't know when they found time to get that done seeing as they were hardly ever together, but I was happy for them.

Since then, I had visions of a small boy running around in the front yard of Cammie and my house. He had my eyes but Cammie's hair. He constantly tripped over his own feet and cried when he scrapped his knee. Cammie would rush over to him with a band-aid and smooth back his hair and told him that nothing could ever hurt him if we were with him. She told him that we would always be with him. I would watch from the window, both of them unaware of it, and love every second of it.

But that dream was shattered long ago. And now, because of this, we may never get another chance at it happening. Cammie didn't want to see me or any of her friends. For months I've missed her and watched her heal and talked to her in her coma. I've been there the whole way and I can't imagine what would possess her not to want to see me.

"Bex." I said suddenly snapping my head to the left. She stopped her rant and turned to me with a glare. "Stop it. None of us are happy about this and quite honestly you're not helping."

"Hey man," Grant said in a warning tone. "That's my wife you're talking to. Now I know that you're going through some pretty tough shit right now but we're going through the same thing."

"No. You're not Grant." I barked back. "Like you said, 'that's my wife you're talking to.' You're wife is here and with child. Mine is in a hospital and doesn't even want to see me. At least you can go into bed knowing that she'll be there lying next to you. Every night I go home to a cold bed. I sleep in a cold bed. And I wake up in a cold bed. None of you guys understand what it's like to have the one thing you love reject you over and over."

"Grant knows." Bex attempted to joke, reminding us of our days at Gallagher when Bex continually blew Grant off.

"Not the time sweetheart." Grant said.

"Definitely not the time." I mumbled angrily.

"Go to sleep dude. You need your rest." Grant said pulling me out of my chair.

"Why. It's not like I have anyone to look good for." Looking in the mirror to my left I realized how to heart I had taken that statement. My hair was now limp and lifeless against my now pale face. Before the accident, I had always had a nice tan because of my constant running and workouts outside. I don't think I've been outside since the incident besides the times I was dragged into ally-ways to get beaten up in my drunken days. My eyes were a dull green rather than the emerald Cammie had always told me was my best feature (despite my fantastic physique). As I changed into my pajamas, I noticed how much weight I had lost. I used to be well defined in the stomach and chest area, but now I was so thin my ribs began to show through. My arms had turned to twigs and my legs looked like toothpicks ready to crack. The stress had caused me to break out on my face leaving me with more zits that I had ever had, even in my height of puberty. I hadn't smirked in months.

I haven't checked in with the agency in weeks. I think they believe I'm dead. I may as well be. I miss her. It's just getting harder too, you'd think with time the pain would ease away but it doesn't. When I'm alone in the silence I hear the beep beep of her heart monitor, even if I'm not at the hospital. It's the only thing that keeps me sane, even if, at times, it's not real. I pull the covers of Grant and Bex's guest bed over myself attempting to warm up. They stayed cold though. I hear the subtle beep beep beep beep in the background of my mind, but just as I drifted into a deep sleep I heard the flat line: beeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. I need to see Cammie.