she’s never been all that comfortable in hospitals -------------- doesn’t matter if she’s the one stuck in the bed itching to get the all - clear so she can leave, or if she’s the one that’s keeping watch at @graceimbrued ‘s bedside like she is now. there’s been a constant state of dread sitting in the pit of her stomach like a rock for the last several days even if the reason for it has gone and shapeshifted since the shock of seeing him run through. ( she still doesn’t remember much of the ambulance ride over; or how they ended up in one in the first place for that matter ----- her subconscious has been steadily trying it’s best to wipe out as much of the trauma as it can get away with between then and now. and she’s not all that much up for a fight to keep those images in her mind. ) sure, they’ve been in close scrapes before; seen each other bruised and broken. but never like this ---------- never to the point where she’d been convinced she was going to lose him for good.
still, the days have blurred together since then. mostly they feel like one long stretch of nothing save for the ebb and flow of feeling numb and feeling everything. there’s nothing she can do, they’ve told her time and time again, other than what she’s been doing --------- holding his hand while the machines do most of the heavy lifting when it comes to something as simple ( and something she’s previously taken for granted ) as breathing. still, she talks to him, even if the majority of the doctors tell her that while he’s in this level of unconsciousness he won’t be able to hear her ------ needing to fill the silence between doctors being paged and the constant ping of his heart monitor with something that doesn’t remind her of just how dire a situation this could really be. she’s never been much of an optimist, but for him she’s sure as hell going to try to be one now. it certainly didn’t help that everyone around them seemed to think he was a lost cause ----------- the murmured conversations between the techs on the scene, knowing glances between the doctors and nurses once he’d been wheeled in with her a few steps behind the both of them covered in his blood ----------- everyone but dean. first time in a long time she’s been thankful for his mile - wide stubborn streak. )
now the he was stable enough the plan was to pull him back slowly; give his body a chance to rid itself of the medications keeping him far away from her despite the constant feeling of his hand weighing down against hers. the worst part about it was the wait ( as if it already hadn’t been ); it could be minutes, hours, even a day before his senses would start coming back to him. she lifts her wrist and stifles back a yawn checking the time on her watch for what seems like the tenth time in the last five minutes, when she’s sure she’s felt him squeeze her hand back. whatever exhaustion had been pulling her down suddenly gets overtaken with adrenaline and the loudest her heart’s ever beaten. she squeezes his hand again; wanting to make sure it’s not her imagination getting the better of her or that damn optimism sprouting roots where it shouldn’t ------- but it happens again. it’s not a reflex, it’s a reaction; an acknowledgement. “hey, baby.”
he’s back he’s back he’s back. “there you are, sugar,” how she manages to keep her voice from wavering as she coos quietly, she’s not quite sure ----- especially since it feels like her heart’s been caught in her throat now since the moment he started to stir. she bites back a full - on grin, erring on the side of caution ( something she’s never been really good at; but the last few days have made it something she’s had to learn and learn quickly ) at least until those green eyes of his are opened for longer than just a flicker of lashes. her fingers make their way back to his forehead, lightly tracing one of the lines that forms whenever he’s bothered by something ( or as she’s seen too much of it recently, spending the last few days fighting for his life ) before they creep back up into his hairline. “i was wondering when you were going to open those eyes again.” she knows she should probably be reaching for that call button ------------- there’s a whole medical team waiting on this very thing, after all. but before the room’s swarming with scrubs and medical buzzwords and they start poking and prodding at him all over again, getting a moment to themselves doesn’t seem like too much -------------- especially knowing how close they’d come to never having it.
“i missed you, y’know,” she allows herself a little smile, hoping somehow through the fog of medications still leaving his system he’s able to spot, “missed you something awful.” which sounds odd considering she’s been camped out in this little chair next to his bed for the vast majority of the time he’s been here ---------- only allowing herself to be shoo’d out of the room when the doctors and nurses needed to run tests or check his medications. past that the furthest she’d been from him was the gloomy little grey couch against the wall in his room. ( and even then, it was rarely being used. she preferred to curl herself up here beside him, no matter how much her shoulders or back protested at the odd angles and broken sleep. she wasn’t about to miss the moment he came back into consciousness by being on the other side of the room ---------- she didn’t want him thinking he was waking up to an empty room. but now that he was awake, none of it mattered anyway. )
her fingers haven’t stopped making little lines in his hair since he started to stir, and they don’t plan on fully stopping any time soon either ( at least for as long as she’s allowed to sit here ); they only pause long enough for her to focus on gently guiding his hand - in - hers up to her lips to press a kiss against the back of his hand. saying she’s been worried about him goes without saying ----------- this isn’t the first time she’s been scared he’s going to leave her for good sooner than she’d like; even if getting old in what they do isn’t the norm. but thinking about having to carry on without him ... she’s not ready to cross that bridge until she absolutely has to. ( and even then she’ll be in seven layers of denial about it. )
