Chapter Four

… I love you…

I jolt awake. Where am I? What's going on? I hear beeping, feel a needle in my hand. I look up and see and IV tube. Then, it all starts rushing back to me. My plan, the wedding, the boat. I remember the gun, which had been planned, and the bullets that weren't supposed to be there. I remember the shock, and feel the sting of betrayal as I picture the face of the person behind it all.

I remember collapsing into the water, thinking that this was it.

And then … what? Dreams? Memories? No, not memories. They didn't happen like that. So much would have been different if they had.

I look around me and realize I'm not alone. Jack is here, slumped in a chair, his hair falling over his face. Should I wake him? I wonder. He looks so tired, but not peaceful. What is he doing here? I remember his voice, fading in and out of my dreams? Has he been talking to me? How long have I been here? How long has he been ere with me? How long since he slept?

I check the whiteboard on the hospital wall. It names a nurse and an attendant that have presumably been assigned to check on me and change my IV fluids, as well as clean my bedpan. There's a date too. I do the math. It's been nearly two weeks since the wedding.

My throat is dry, which I guess makes sense. I try to swallow and start to cough. Jack jerks awake and looks at me, stunned.

"Water." I manage to say in between coughs.

He nods and gets a disposable plastic hospital cup. He fills it with water and brings it to me. I take slow sips.

"Better?" he asks.

I nod, "What happened?" I ask. It comes out horse. Even with the water, my throat is still off from lack of use.

"You don't remember?"

"Bits and pieces."

He nods, "Well, obviously, certain aspects of your plan backfired."

I nod, unsure of what to say. Jack just watches me silently. Finally, he opens his mouth, "Should I get a doctor? Or a nurse?"

I shake me head. He probably should. People should know I'm awake. But once that happens, they'll be other people, and I won't be able to talk to him, "What are you doing here?" It's all I've wanted to ask since I saw him sitting there. He doesn't answer, "Have you been here the whole time I was …"

He shakes his head, "Just during visiting hours. And a couple other people have been in to see you. The nurses they … they don't like for you to have a lot of people crowded in here so I went off and got yogurt in the cafeteria, or something in the gift-shop."

"But you stayed in the hospital this whole time?" I ask, stunned, as I try to sit up.

Jack looks away, not letting me catch his gaze, "Well, I went home to sleep. They wouldn't let me stay-"

"What about the Stowaway?"

"I have people looking after it."

"But why would you … I don't understand?"

"I had to make sure you were okay." He says. It's almost a whisper, but I hear it.

"It's been nearly to weeks."

He looks at me, surprised, "How do you know that?"

I motion to the whiteboard. He nods, "Yeah, I uh, I guess it has."

"You stayed with me all that time?"

"Well, like I said, at night-"

"Why would you do that?" He doesn't say anything, avoiding my gaze once again, "Why would you care what happened to me?"

He shakes his head, "I don't know. I really don't know why I care. But I do." He finally looks at me, and the look in his eyes makes my breath catch in my throat, "Against my better judgment, and after everything, I care what happens to you. I care about you. I needed you to be okay."

Something flashes in my mind, "Did you talk to me?"

"What?" He looks at me, confused. It's a look I know well. I've seen it so often now in my dreams.

"While I was … comatose. Did you talk to me?"

He nods, "Everyday. Why?"

"I heard you. I mean, not all of it. What I remember, it's not fourteen days worth of you talking to me. But some of it. I thought I was dreaming." He's still watching me. I meet his eyes, "You said you couldn't lose another person you loved." He swallows, but doesn't respond, "Did I dream that?" For a long time he says nothing, does nothing, and I think maybe I just made it all up. But then he shakes his head, "You love me?" I ask, needing him to confirm it. He doesn't. He just blinks back tears.

I try to remember the things I said to him in my dreams. All the words unspoken and missed opportunities. I need to say it all to him now, before the chance slips away and I lose my nerve, "I love you too." I say, and it sounds so strange, saying something so real and true after all the lies, but I keep going, "I love you, whether you love me or not I love you. I've always loved you, with my whole heart and every part of me, when I didn't want to, when it would have made everything so much easier not to, I loved you. When you told me how you felt that night under the fireworks, I wanted to tell you everything, how much you meant to me, who I was, and how you were never for even an instant alone in how you felt. And it was because it would have ruined my plans for the Graysons, and because it would have put you in danger that I didn't, but it was more than that. It was that I was scared. I was scared of you seeing the broken, screwed up girl I had become. I was scared of you looking at me with revulsion, of everything you felt for me being washed away with the tide. I wanted you to hold onto the memory of that happy little girl, and not see what she had become."

Jack sits down beside me. I don't realize I'm crying until I feel his hand brush the tears from my cheeks. I relish his touch.

"I love you." He whispers, "I know it's not smart, and it doesn't make any sense. But I do. I can't help it. Seeing everything you've become, I still love you. More than ever before. Isn't that what real love is? Seeing somebody's scars and loving them anyway."

I chuckle, "Not scars like mine."

"Shhh." He whispers, brushing my hair with his hand, pulling me to him, "We'll figure it out."

I let him hold me, and for the first time in a long time, I feel safe. I start to drift off to sleep, and when I wake up, I'm surrounded by nurses, and doctors, and a few familiar faces looking at me with concern, but no Jack.

Was it all just another dream? Another moment that should have happened but didn't?

I look over to my bedside, full of flowers and letters, and one other thing. It's a photo that's been printed from the Internet. It's generic, and to most people, it would mean nothing, but to me, it means everything.

I let people fuss around me, focusing my eyes on that one picture of Fourth of July Fireworks.

Author's Note: I hope you liked it. At this point, we still don't know who is going to shoot Emily, so I tried to write it in a way that no matter who it is, this is still believable. I think it should be, unless the shooter is Jack, but I don't think it will be. Earlier in the season maybe, but not now. Anyway, I hope you liked this little fic. Let me know what you think. Have a good day.

Regards,

~RedTailedHawkens