HIRAETH ━━━━ miguel diaz.

024. be okay

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
"be okay"
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(no mercy pt. 2)

JULES WAS NUMB.

She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to talk to her mother, even after she refused to leave her side, edging on hysteria. She didn't want to talk to the police, or the nurses, or anyone. She just wanted to see Miguel, because if he wasn't okay, then neither was she.

She could barely feel the pain in her shoulder anymore... actually, she couldn't feel pain anywhere. The drugs pumping through her IV were taking effect, and her shoulder was situated into a sling so that it could heal properly. Her mother was sitting next to her, her face vacant of emotion -- and Jules realized that she was probably in just as much shock as she was. 

 "I just-" Shira's voice caught, so she shook her head. Her words cut into previous silence, mixing with the beeping of various machines, and Jules kept her gaze forward. She found it bemusing how hospitals always seemed so pristine. It was as if they were trying to convince onlookers that what happened there wasn't a battle between life and death. Jules knew you couldn't cheat death, but well... at least they could prevent it. "I don't understand why you didn't tell me that things had gotten this bad." 

 Jules didn't answer, instead finding her mind wandering to Sam. She had cut her arm pretty bad, courtesy of Tory's knuckle-spikes, and she heard the LaRusso's speaking outside of her room moments before. Her mind was hazy, and she picked at a thread on the hospital gown, sighing deeply, and feeling her heart twist painfully in her chest when she thought of Miguel. 

 "Juliana Monroe, I swear-" Shira turned to shoot her a stern look, "you have to talk to me! I am done being left in the dark about this! You expect me to just sit around all day, not knowing whether or not my daughter is fighting for her life? This could have-" 

 Her voice trailed off when Jules bowed her head. She was still quiet, but her shoulders shook as tears began to once again trail down her face. It was the second time she cried that day, and that would make it the second time since the incident with Kreese. Jules wasn't one to cry, but now she felt as if her heart had cracked along with her ribs, and all of the emotions bottled in her chest were spilling out in a scillinating array of harsh light. 

 Shira's face softened, "oh baby, I'm so sorry-" she turned to cup Jules' face with her hand, wiping away her tears with her thumb. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten mad. This has nothing to do with me, and I-" 

 "No," Jules cut her off, her voice hoarse, as she lifted up her hand to wipe at her eyes. The doctors had done their best to clean her up, but her nose was bruising and beginning to swell, along with her eye. Her skin was red from the effort it took to scrub it clean of blood, and she had various cuts littering her skin. Her eyes were red from all of the crying, and as much as she wanted to, she couldn't stop. Not until she saw Miguel. "No, Ma, I'm sorry-" she sniffed, choking back a sob. "I'm so sorry, I created this whole mess and I couldn't clean it up. And now Sam is hurt, and Miguel is-" she ducked her head again, her chest burning from her sobs -- apparently the one pain morphine couldn't mask. "This is all my fault." 

 "Hey, don't say that." 

 Startled, Jules shot her head up. It was Johnny, whose face was gaunt and his hands clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. He nodded at Shira, who immediately shot up from her seat when she saw him. "Hey," he muttered, his usual confident aura diminished as he bowed his head. "I was wondering if I could - uh - talk to Jules for a second?"

 Shira stomped over to him, her eyes blazing, and for one sickening moment; Jules thought she was going to slap him. Then, she did something even more unexpected:

 She hugged him. 

 Jules briefly thought that the drugs were making her hallucinate. Shira grabbed onto Johnny's shoulders and pulled him close, muttering so low that Jules could barely hear it:

"Thank you for teaching her how to protect herself."

And then she let him go, and without another word, turned to step outside of the door.

 Jules snorted weakly, leaning back against the pillow. "Wow. I thought she was about to rock your shit." 

 Johnny took one look at her, and his face fell. He walked over to he was standing by her bed, sitting down in the small chair pushed against the corner. He stared at her, knitting his eyebrows as she sniffled and wiped tears from her face, although she couldn't prevent more from falling. She looked away, directing her gaze at the ceiling and taking a deep breath. 

 Johnny's voice was quiet, "I'm sorry, Monroe. I'm so fucking sorry, I-" he clenched his teeth. "This was never supposed to happen. And now you're hurt, and Miguel's hurt, and it never would have happened if I had just put a stop to things before they could start." 

 "This isn't your fault, Sensei." Jules shot back, her tone still raspy. "Tory had a problem with me, not with you. She came after me, not you. This is on me."

"You can't say that," Johnny snapped, narrowing his eyes. "Besides, what does it matter now?"

Jules couldn't think of anything to say to that. He was right, wasn't he? The past had passed... there was nothing she could do to change the events that had already plagued her memories. She instead just nodded slightly, pursing her lips and leaning back on her pillow. "Have you seen Miguel?" 

 Johnny shook his head, "no." 

Jules was expecting that answer, but it still stung. "He'll be okay, right?" 

 She knew that the man wanted to say yes - wanted to console her. But he also knew that she could tell when he lied, so he just exhaled deeply. "I don't know." 

 "You know I've never prayed so much before?" Jules resumed picking at the fabric of her gown. "I have always been terrible about that, and I feel bad for praying now that I have something that I just need to go right. I hadn't prayed since my dad-" she swallowed, wiping at her eyes. "And now I feel like a hypocrite, but I still have to. I still have to believe that Miguel will be okay." 

 Johnny seemed at a loss for words, and Jules didn't necessarily blame him. She was never one to openly speak of her religion, but right now it felt like the only thing she could confide in. She felt like she had to believe that there was a higher power who could help. If she didn't she might combust. 

"But Miguel is strong," she nodded, sniffling. "Miguel is okay. I know he is. He's okay." 

 And she kept repeating that in her head; over and over again, like a mantra. As if recertifying the meaning behind the words would make things any more okay. 

A/N:

this is so short but it's just the wrap up!! season three, here we come; i can't wait!

predictions for season three?

lots of love, and before i go, i'd just like to say something:

i love seeing you guys vote, but a very low percentage of y'all comment!! i would LOVE to read your thoughts on my story, so don't be afraid to type out a message or two, it would make my day <3

love you guys!