Holy Ground

Part 7

Andy's P.O.V.

"Hi, someone called me and said I had to get to the hospital. Did something happen? Is my wife okay?" The woman behind the counter smiled patiently at me, but it was a trained smile. I didn't have the time or the patience for that.

"Calm down, sir. Tell me your wife's name and then I can direct you to the doctor or her room." The scene reminded me too much of my first arrival, the one where I was certain I would be told I'd lost everything. It was impossible to stop the anxiety from rising, and I could feel it, climbing my throat and threatening to suffocate me, as I spilled my last name to her.

I tried not to lose it as she checked a few documents with all the calm in this world, like nothing of importance was happening, like my heart wasn't beating out of control. After what felt like too long, she finally addressed me again.

"There's no indication of Mrs. Barber's doctor asking for you... And the nurse who's taking care of her is on her day off." I blinked a few times, trying to process her words and failing.

"What does that mean?" I hated the way she looked at me, with pity and understanding. I was tired of being seen like that, a broken man with a broken wife amidst the shattered pieces of what used to be my life.

"It means your wife isn't going through any serious risk. I'll try to get in touch with Nurse Jane and see what that call was about. In the meantime, would you like to see Mrs. Barber?" That was a difficult question. Of course I did want to see her, that wasn't the hard part about it. The problem was... should I?

She never tried to reach out ever since I drove her back to this hospital that morning, almost a week ago. I managed to get some answers about how she was thanks to said Nurse Jane and her doctor, but I didn't try to talk to her ever since.

I didn't know what to say. I knew what I wanted to say, of course. The entire truth. I wanted to teach her about the beautiful love story she'd starred by my side, but most of all, I wanted her to believe in me.

And I didn't think that was possible with the way things were left between us.

I'd barely slept ever since that morning. The good thing about giving her some distance was that I was able to spend some time with our son, something I'd failed to do ever since his birth.

It wasn't his fault, but he was born from the same accident that almost took his mother's life. I couldn't look at him and not think of her. I couldn't look at him and not remember how wrong everything was, and how much worse it could have been.

But now he was all I had. And I feared this was what my life would be like, if Y/N never decided to give me another chance. So I decided to face my own trauma instead of running from it.

Today was the first time since Y/N left that I had to call the nanny to take care of him again. I spent the last five days with him at all times, trying to learn how to be a parent, trying to feel close to someone I'd decided to shut off before even giving a chance.

He didn't deserve this father who wasn't there. That wasn't the father I wanted to be, anyway. And so I focused on giving him all I had - all of my attention, all of my care, all of my love. I had nothing but time, and I had a lot of it to compensate for.

To be honest, the part of me that still believed Y/N would recover her memory kept reminding me that she would never forgive me for those months of parental bonding I missed. But it wasn't my fault either.

It didn't feel right to cherish our son when she wasn't able to do the same.

"Mr. Barber?" The voice of the nurse from before broke me out of my thoughts, and I blinked a few times in an effort to fully concentrate in the present again. "Would you like to see her?"

Despite everything, I knew the answer I would give.

"Yes." Of course. "Yes, I want to see her."

I followed the dutiful nurse down the path I knew all too well, not having it in me to explain to her how her guidance wasn't necessary. I roamed these halls every night in my sleep and every morning until she left my house. I feared their white apathy would be ingrained in my brain cells for the rest of my life.

"There you go. I'll leave you two alone." It was silent when I joined her in the room she'd been living in ever since she got out of the coma. And still, she didn't seem to hear my arrival - not the door opening and closing behind her, not the sound of my steps resonating through the almost empty room. She looked hypnotized by nothing at all, hand absentmindedly playing with her necklace as she stared at the wall.

"Hey." The word startled her, and her head whipped around to look at me, her eyes wide, but with no trace of anger.

"Andy?" I couldn't figure out why, but the way she said my name sent shivers down my spine. She'd said it before, ever since she woke up - countless times. She said it in bed that night, and it still didn't seem this sweet.

Perhaps the absence had made me more appreciative of it.

"Yeah." I was scared of moving any closer to her, or saying anything that might provoke her anger. I knew she had the time to think about what had happened, but I had no idea how she felt about it all now.

"I don't mean to impose, I just... Someone from the hospital called me, I thought maybe something had happened to you. I'm glad you're alright." She nodded, a small smile on her face as silence fell between us again.

I'd grown to loathe the absence of sound in the time after the accident. At first, it was from the need to hear the beeps that reminded me she was alive. Then it was for its power to feed into my deepest fears and anxieties, my desperate concern of possibly losing her. And now, it was from the expectation that suspicion had become reality - she really didn't want anything to do with me anymore.

"I can leave, if you want," I offered, silently praying she wouldn't take me up on it even as I waved towards the door. Much to my delight and surprise, her eyes widened and she reached out for my hand, as if stopping me from moving.

"No! No, don't go." And so we stood there, staring at each other, not knowing what to do until she asked, "Would you like to sit?"

I followed her to the small sofa in the room, still confused about what was happening. Each second that went by highlighted the differences in our situation, but I still couldn't see it clearly.

Just what was going on here?

She still held my hand as we sat next to each other, absentmindedly stroking it, her gaze on our laps. It felt just familiar enough to have hope rekindling inside my heart, burning bright inside of it to illuminate my entire being.

"Y/N..." I started, and when her eyes met mine, I unconsciously licked my lips in an effort to keep talking. "Were you the one who called for me?" In the time that she took to answer, the truth was already there, staring back at me. Her hands played with the necklace and when a smile began to form, I threw my arms around her, pulling her to my lap.

"Oh my God." She giggled against the crook of my neck, and it was like my heart stopped and I started living again, somehow. "It's you," I commented, cradling her face so I could look her in the eye. "It's really you."

My voice was so thick with emotion I could barely recognize it, but it didn't take long until words were replaced by the language of desperate kisses, her hands fisting my shirt as I buried my fingers on her locks.

"What... How much do you remember?" I had to ask when I finally accepted that I needed to let us breathe, leaving her lips to rub our noses together delicately, our foreheadheads glued as I struggled not to lose control.

"There are still gaps," she confessed, seemingly as unwilling to part from me as I was. "But I remember enough. I know you're my husband and I know that was our son, and I want to go home, Andy. Please, take me home."

And there it was, the feeling of wholeness, the lack of craving I never thought I'd have again. It was impossible to keep myself from crying then, but as my shirt became soaked, I knew I wasn't the only one battling with emotions and dealing with them in the form of tears.

"Of course, darling. Let's go home." And running my hand over her cheek, brushing her tears away, I invited, "Let's go meet our son."