When Fools Rush In

Chapter 19 - I'm Not Going Anywhere

"Lynda, I think we should be getting ourselves a coffee," said Lucy's father, ushering his wife in the direction of the door of the room, where Jack was standing with the nurse, "alright Jack," he greeted as they shuffled past.

Jack smiled and acknowledged Lucy's father as Lucy gazed from the bed, still trying to drink in the scene she found herself in. "There she is," she heard the nurse say, before turning on her heel back into the corridor outside where Lucy's parents had escaped to.

Lucy blinked sleep out of her eyes and swallowed, her throat feeling like cut glass. She winced as she realised grimly she had been intubated. It was all too much to take in, but there he was, shutting the door behind him and gingerly advancing to her bedside, his face ashen and his eyes tired, framed by his floppy curtains. Lucy instinctively held out her hand, her arm outstretched.

"Jack..." she murmured, "I..." she felt hot tears prick the corner of her eyes, "I..." she wasn't sure what she wanted to say to him. She knew their last words had been unfortunate, their parting an angry one. But she felt none of that now. She just wanted him back in her arms.

Jack didn't speak. He gently clasped her hand with his as he pulled up a chair from the side of the bed, sighing loudly. Lucy turned to face him, to breathe him in. Their faces were inches apart. Jack drew his face into hers, their noses touching. Lucy felt his hair tickle her eyelids.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry bab," he whispered, his voice soft and remorseful, "God I'm so glad you're awake."

Lucy felt tears trickle down her cheeks. Normally she would have been infuriated with herself for crying, but she felt so tired, almost stoned on the cocktail of drugs she had been given. 

"I can't believe you're here," she said, still resting her nose on Jack's, feeling his warm breath on her face, "please don't go."

Jack pulled her towards him and embraced her, taking care not to squeeze her too hard. Lucy wrapped her arms around him. Her whole body hurt and prickled with pain as she took care not to rip the cannula from the back of her left hand. He was solid and warm, wearing a loose white Balenciaga t-shirt that had creased where he had slept on it. She had missed his scent, a scent she couldn't describe but was him and him only. She took her right hand and cradled the back of his head, running her fingers up through his hair, rubbing his scalp. He was there, alive, with her.

"I'm not going anywhere," Jack said, still in a whisper. Lucy sensed he was trying to swallow back a lump in his throat.

They embraced for what felt like minutes, not speaking, just inhaling each other, Lucy allowing the tears she had to roll down her face and dry up. She could hear his heart beating - rhythmic, comforting. 

Her body began to ache and she slowly pulled back to rest her head back on the pillow, grabbing Jack's hand with her free one. She looked into his eyes which were now wide, unblinking. 

"How did you know I was here? What happened?" Lucy's head had filled with questions in the half hour she had been awake. Some of them she wasn't sure she wanted the answer to.

Jack exhaled, pushing his hair from his eyes and back onto his head. Immediately it flopped back into its original position.

"You know you were in a massive pile-up right?" he began.

"Yeah my parents said as much."

"Well that was on Monday afternoon...apparently they put you in a coma when you got here, and now it's Wednesday afternoon. I found out yesterday morning - word was going round the Etihad when I turned up to training...I felt sick like...I had to come and see ya."