The Mac were in the midst of soundcheck, the early afternoon sun streaming through the stage windows. Stevie and Christine were twirling and laughing across the stage, letting loose during a break, the carefree energy of the moment filling the air. But fate intervened—Christine misstepped and tumbled.
In an instant, John, ever alert, handed his bass to Lindsey and dashed toward her. His hand landed gently on her shoulder, his concern immediate. "Christine, are you okay?"
Christine, tears welling, tried to mask her fear with a smile. "My leg... it really hurts from the fall... but I think I'm okay." Her voice quivered.
"Maybe we should go to the hospital," John suggested softly, though his hand never left her shoulder.
"No, I'm fine," she insisted, though her eyes betrayed her pain.
John's brow furrowed. "Can you walk?"
Christine gingerly allowed him to help her stand, wincing as her leg bore weight. "Ahh! No... it really hurts!" she gasped, her voice thick with discomfort. "John... it's—ugh—it's so painful..."
Without hesitation, John scooped her into his arms, mindful of her anxiety and taking a moment to guide her through steadying breaths. "Breathe, Christine, just with me. In... and out... slow..."
Once calm, he declared, "We're going to urgent care. Let's get you checked."
At the care facility, John remained by her side, soothing and steady. "I'm here for you," he whispered. "Anything you need, Christine."
X-rays confirmed a broken leg—nothing unfixable—and the tension in their shoulders eased. Christine, ever wry, managed a small joke. "Looks like I'm not a spring chicken anymore." John's smile softened, his gaze lingering on her.
Back at the venue, he suggested she rest backstage, but Christine, determined, insisted on performing. They arranged a long piano bench for her to sit on, John carefully placing it center stage. When she needed her accordion, he brought the bench forward and set up her instrument. A voice from the crowd asked what had happened. Stevie quickly reassured, "Christine just had a little mishap during soundcheck—she'll be fine!" Christine, with a teasing glance to Stevie, added over the mic, "Stephanie Nicks!" Stevie grinned nervously and clarified, "Dancing around got a little wild, but she's okay!"
After the gig, John and Christine rode to the hotel. In her room, he helped her settle onto the bed, propping a pillow under her injured leg. "Are you hungry? I could order room service," he asked gently.
Christine's eyes lit up, a small smile breaking through her exhaustion. "I'm starving... fish and chips, if you don't mind."
John chuckled warmly. "Anything you want, you got it," and called in the order. Once the food arrived, he helped her get comfortable, fluffing pillows and ensuring she was properly supported. They ate together, quiet companionship in the room, until Christine murmured, "Tea... could you... please, John?"
He smiled, preparing the tea with honey just as she liked it. Christine sipped slowly, letting out a contented sigh. "Thanks, John."
He watched her yawn, exhaustion evident, and gently took the empty cup. "You've had quite a day," he said, voice thick with concern. Christine nodded, letting the fatigue wash over her.
As she mentioned her day, John helped her up for a quick bathroom visit, offering support with her crutches. "Need some help?" he asked gently. Christine hesitated, then nodded, allowing him to guide her safely.
Back in the room, he assisted her to bed again. "Do you need help getting changed?" he offered.
Christine laughed softly, shaking her head. "I was messing with you, Johnny."
