It was me in there( 9-1-1 )

Flashback

(For this scene, lets just pretend Daniels older than Maddie lol xx)

The hospital room was quiet, the kind of silence that felt oppressive, thick, and unbearable. Maddie sat in the chair beside Daniel's bed, her legs folded beneath her as if curling into herself could protect her from the inevitable. She clutched Daniel's hand tightly in her own, her knuckles white as she traced her thumb over his frail fingers.

The harsh light from the overhead fixtures reflected off the pale green walls, illuminating the hollowed-out version of her big brother that lay before her. His face, once so full of life and mischief, was sunken, his skin almost translucent. Each shallow breath he took rattled in his chest, like the last gasp of a candle's flame before it went out.

Maddie wanted to scream at the universe, at the doctors who said there was nothing more they could do, at the cruel injustice that was stealing Daniel from her. But she stayed silent, swallowing the sobs that clawed at her throat, because this wasn't about her. This was about him.

Daniel stirred slightly, his eyelids fluttering open. His once-vivid blue eyes were dulled now, clouded by exhaustion and pain. Still, when they landed on her, a faint glimmer of recognition sparked.

"Hey, Mads," he rasped, his voice so weak it was barely audible.

"Hey, Danny," she whispered back, her voice trembling. She leaned closer, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

Daniel huffed a weak laugh that turned into a cough, his chest heaving with the effort. "Like crap," he said, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles.

Maddie managed a watery smile in return, but it quickly dissolved into tears. "I hate this," she choked out. "I hate seeing you like this."

Daniel's expression softened, and he reached up with what little strength he had, his fingers brushing against her cheek. "I know," he said gently. "I hate it too. But it's okay, Maddie. It's okay."

"It's not okay," she sobbed, gripping his hand tighter. "It's not fair, Danny. You're supposed to have so much more time. You're supposed to see Evan grow up, to—" Her voice broke, and she couldn't finish the sentence.

Daniel's face grew pained—not from his illness, but from the weight of her words. He knew what she was saying, and it killed him that she was right.

"Maddie," he said softly, waiting until she met his gaze. "We don't get to choose how much time we have. We just have to make the most of it. And I've had... a good life. I've been lucky to have you."

Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head. "It's not enough," she whispered. "It'll never be enough."

Daniel's lips curved into a faint smile, and for a moment, he looked like her big brother again—the boy who used to build forts with her in the living room, who always made her laugh even when she was crying, who promised to protect her from everything.

"I need to ask you something," he said after a moment, his voice so quiet she had to lean in to hear him.

"Anything," she said quickly. "You can ask me anything."

Daniel hesitated, his brow furrowing as if trying to find the right words. His hand trembled in hers, and she squeezed it gently, offering what little comfort she could.

"It's about Evan," he said finally, his voice breaking on their little brother's name.

Maddie's heart clenched, and she nodded, tears pooling in her eyes. "What about him?"

Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, as if summoning the strength to continue. When he opened them again, they were filled with a mixture of love and sorrow.

"He's so little," Daniel said, his voice cracking. "He's not going to remember me, is he?"

Maddie let out a strangled sob, shaking her head. "Don't say that," she whispered. "Of course he'll remember you. I'll make sure he does."

Daniel smiled faintly, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears. "You're sweet, Maddie," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "But we both know how memories work. He's just a baby. He won't remember my face or my voice. He won't remember..." His words trailed off, and his shoulders shook with silent sobs.

Maddie climbed onto the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around him as best she could without disturbing the wires and tubes. She held him tightly, her own tears soaking into his hospital gown.

"I'll make sure he knows," she said fiercely. "I'll tell him everything, Danny. How much you loved him. How proud you were of him. I'll keep your memory alive. I swear it."

Daniel pulled back slightly, his watery eyes locking onto hers. "Promise me," he said, his voice trembling. "Promise me you'll tell him... tell him I loved him. That I loved him more than anything."

Maddie nodded, her heart breaking into pieces she wasn't sure could ever be put back together. "I promise," she whispered. "I promise, Danny. He'll know. He'll know how much you loved him."

Daniel's tears spilled over, and he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You're a good sister," he said softly. "The best. Evan's lucky to have you."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "We're lucky to have you. You're the best brother anyone could ever ask for."

Daniel's lips curved into a faint smile, but it quickly faded as his breathing grew shallower. Maddie panicked, gripping his hand tightly as if her touch alone could keep him here.

"Stay with me," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Please, Danny. Don't leave me. Don't leave Evan."

"I'll always be with you," Daniel whispered, his voice barely audible. "Both of you. Always."

Maddie sobbed, pressing her forehead to his. "I love you," she said, her voice shaking.

"I love you too," Daniel murmured. His hand went limp in hers, and the monitor let out a long, steady beep that seemed to echo endlessly in her ears.

Maddie let out a guttural scream, her entire body trembling as she clung to him, her tears soaking into his hospital gown.

"I'll tell him," she whispered through her sobs. "I'll tell him every day. I promise, Danny. I promise."

And as the light faded from the room, Maddie held onto him, her heart shattering into pieces that she knew would never fully heal.