The only family I have Left.

Chapter 27

The days seemed to melt into one another, and still, Gracie remained in her silent prison. Though her mind was alert, her body refused to cooperate, locked in a state of immobility that felt like an eternity. But each time Lily's voice reached her, or Fred's presence filled the room, she felt a flicker of life. They kept coming, kept hoping, and so Gracie kept fighting, no matter how faint the struggle became.

Fred had returned to the hospital wing later that afternoon, his face drawn and weary. His steps were slower now, his usual energy tempered by the worry that had taken root in his heart. Gracie could hear the soft thud of his boots on the stone floor as he entered, and the familiar, comforting sound of his voice filled the space.

"I'll be here for a while, Gracie," Fred said softly, as he always did. "I know it's been hard, but you've got this. You always do." His tone was lighter than it had been earlier, as if he were trying to mask the exhaustion with a semblance of his old self. "I'll tell you about the new joke we've been working on. It's going to be brilliant when it's finished—just you wait." He chuckled to himself, but it was a hollow sound, a reflection of the sadness that lingered in his eyes.

Gracie wished she could lift her hand to reach for him, to let him know she could hear him, but her fingers remained still, the weight of the world pressing down on them. Still, she held on to his words. Fred's voice was a lifeline, a connection to the world she longed to return to.

Hours passed, and the room quieted. Lily, after spending hours by Gracie's side, had gone to rest for a moment, leaving Fred alone in the hospital wing with her. He sat by her bedside, his hand loosely resting over hers, the warmth of his touch sending waves of comfort through her mind.

Gracie's heart thudded louder in her chest, a frantic beat she couldn't escape. She couldn't hold on forever. She couldn't wait much longer. But she had to—had to hold on for him. For all of them.

Then, like a spark igniting a flame, something shifted inside her. It was so faint, so small, that for a moment, Fred didn't notice. But Gracie felt it: a rush of energy, a weak pulse, a whisper of life. Her fingers twitched.

Fred's head snapped up at the sensation. "Gracie?" His voice was tentative, as if he weren't sure if he had imagined it. He leaned forward, his heart pounding in his chest. "Did you...?"

He was met with silence. But Fred wasn't one to give up easily. His voice grew more insistent, more urgent. "Please, Gracie, if you can hear me, please, just show me. Squeeze my hand. Just a little."

The tension in the room thickened as Fred held his breath, his eyes never leaving Gracie's face. He willed her to respond, praying that somehow, she could hear him, feel him.

And then, against the stillness, it happened.

Gracie's fingers moved again, but this time it wasn't just a twitch. It was a squeeze. Weak, frail, but unmistakable.

Fred gasped, a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding spilling from him. His fingers tightened around her hand, his voice trembling with relief. "Gracie! You—did you—"

Gracie's body felt heavy, like a weight she could not shake, but the spark of life inside her grew brighter. She wanted to speak, to say I'm here, I'm still here with you, but it was all beyond her reach.

But then, in a faint, almost inaudible breath, Gracie managed it again. "M-m... Ma..."

The sound was so soft, so fragile, that Fred wasn't sure if he had imagined it. But his heart leaped in his chest. He leaned in closer, his voice raw with emotion. "Did you say it again, Gracie? Did you say Mama?" His fingers brushed her hair back from her face, and the weight of his joy and relief overwhelmed him. "I knew you were still here. I knew it."

Gracie's chest rose and fell, shallow breaths escaping her lips. Each inhale felt like an effort, but she clung to the strength in Fred's voice, in his presence. Though she could not open her eyes, could not speak, there was something about the sound of his words that anchored her.

Fred didn't leave her side. Not for hours. Not for days. He sat there, talking to her, telling her everything that had happened, telling her about the shop, the latest pranks they had been working on, the jokes that only Gracie would understand. He spoke about her friends, about Lily's unwavering hope, about James and their family. And every day, when he thought she couldn't hear him, he told her that he loved her, and that they were all waiting for her to come back.

And, deep within the silence, Gracie listened.

As the days turned into weeks, something shifted inside Gracie. The spark of life that had first appeared, weak and flickering, began to grow. It wasn't fast, and it wasn't certain, but the connection between her and the world outside began to feel less distant. Fred's voice, Lily's presence, the soft hum of the world around her—all of it felt closer, as if the walls of her unconscious mind were slowly starting to crack.

Her body still remained unyielding, but inside, there was something else. Something that felt like hope.

In the quiet of the room, Fred's voice filled the space, steady and comforting. "We're all here for you, Gracie. Don't give up on us. We won't give up on you."

And Gracie clung to that promise, with every ounce of strength she had left.