Simon felt lightheaded as he lifted himself from the couch in the coldness of the hospital room. It had been a few days now since everything had happened, and in that time this room had basically become his new home. He stretched as he sat up, feeling his back pop as he did so. He winced slightly, unexpecting it. He knew that the couch was stiff, but he didn't realize the possible toll it was taking on him. He made a mental note to make the hospital staff aware of how much more beneficial it would be to family members if they got proper furniture.
He stretched some more as he stood up, casting a glance over at Wren. She laid still with her head bandaged as the medical devices around droned on, filling the silent air with mechanical whirring and the occasional beeps. She still hadn't woken up, and with that, he hadn't left the room once. He wasn't going to leave her with the chance that she would wake up alone. He silently made his way over to her as he grabbed his jacket, slipping it on with ease. Part of him really wanted to go home to get a change of clothes, to get out of the same clothes he had been wearing for days now, but he just simply wasn't going to leave for anything. Perhaps Fletcher could bring a change of clothes the next time he visited.
Simon stopped in front of her as he dug one of his hands into his pocket. If he wanted some new clothes, he was probably going to have to tell Fletcher now. He briefly touched her face, taking in her presence. Her face was cold, no doubt from the room, but it made him nervous regardless. It wasn't that long ago she was on the brink of death. He slowly pulled his phone out as he kept his focus on Wren, finally throwing a glance at it.
He was met with perhaps the most missed calls he had ever seen. It was Fletcher. He stepped away from Wren with his attention now on the phone. 10 missed calls. What was going on? That many calls couldn't have been good. He noticed that voicemails were also left, but he ignored them and went straight to calling him back instead. He listened closely as the dial tone rang out in the silence of the room.
Fletcher groaned as his phone buzzed on his bedside table. It had been a restless night full of fitful bouts of sleep. The few times he had finally drifted off, his mind had been plagued with horrible dreams and by the time the sun had started to rise, he felt like he hadn't slept a wink. He'd only finally begun to sink into a proper sleep when the sound of his phone cut through his precious moments of peace. He did his best to ignore it but it persisted, unwilling to let him slip away. With another small groan he forced his heavy lids open slightly, blinking the bleariness away as best he could. He pushed himself up and peered begrudgingly over his shoulder at the stupid electronic box that dared wake him. That's when he saw the caller ID.
Simon!
He rolled over and slid clumsily out of bed, his blankets falling at his feet, and stumbled over to his bedside table, rubbing his eyes as they tried to adjust to the bright morning sun. He reached his phone and picked it up to answer the call.
"Simon?" He asked, lifting it to his ear. He tried to conceal the weariness in his voice but to no avail.
"Fletcher, are you okay?" Simon was quick to greet. He noticed that he sounded off and not like his usual bubbly self.
Fletcher felt the dread of the night prior all start to crash down on him again. He did his best to keep his voice steady as he tried to explain. "Simon, e-everything's a mess!" he said. "Jennifer called the cops and they took him away and I—I don't know what to do! I can't find Jesse anywhere, I've looked high and low. I know you're in the hospital with Wren right now but I didn't know where else to turn—" His voice was rising in panic as he spoke.
"Breathe," Simon said steadily. "You can't tell me what's properly happening unless you breathe." He moved himself back to the couch, not wanting to chance Wren hearing what was going on. "Now, from the top. Jennifer."
