SKYFALL, Johnny Kavanagh

Here to stay

Maeve's Point of View

We stopped just outside the door.
Gibsie didn't speak right away.
Neither did I.

He ran a hand down his face, rubbed the back of his neck, then gave me a look that somehow managed to be both exhausted and gentle.
"He's been asking for you." He said finally. "Well. Not in so many words. But he keeps looking at the door like he's waiting for someone. And I know it's not me."

I stared at the handle.
My fingers twitched like they wanted something to hold.

Gibsie shifted, one shoulder resting against the wall. "He's not great, Maeve."

I nodded.

"I mean it. This isn't a graze. It's bad. And he's trying to be brave about it, but he's hurting." He glanced at me. "And if he sees you upset, he'll pretend he's not."

"I'm not here to make it worse."

"I know. Just..." He sighed. "Don't treat him like he's broken, alright? He's scared shitless of that."

I swallowed. "Neither of us are doing a great job of pretending we're fine these days."

He gave me a small, crooked smile. "Yeah. Well. That's why you're good for each other."

I didn't say anything.

Gibsie pushed away from the wall. "I'll give you some time."

"Okay."

He took two steps, then turned. "And Maeve?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad it's you."

I nodded again, even though my throat was too tight to speak.

Then he left.
And I opened the door.

The physio room was warm. Quiet. The kind of quiet that only comes after noise.
There was a faint hum from the heating unit, a low mechanical buzz from the lights overhead, but nothing else.

No shouting.
No boots.
No chaos.

Just Johnny.

He was lying on the narrow bed, propped slightly upright against a stack of pillows, his bare chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths.
His right leg was stretched out and wrapped in layers of gauze, blood already seeping through the top dressing.

His face was pale.
Too pale.
And his jaw was clenched like he was trying to hold something together from the inside.

He looked up the second I stepped in.
Didn't say anything.

I didn't stop to think.
Didn't ask if I could.
I just crossed the room, dropped to my knees beside him, and wrapped my arms around his waist like I needed the feel of his ribs under my palms to believe he was still alive.

He inhaled sharply – not from pain, I don't think – but from surprise.

And then, slowly, one arm came up to rest over my shoulders.
Light.
Careful.

"Hey." His voice was scratchy. "You're going to soak the bandages."

I let out a wet laugh against his skin. "You scared the shit out of me, you absolute idiot."

He chuckled weakly. "Sorry."

"You collapsed." I pulled back just enough to look at him. "You passed out on the pitch."

"I know." He grimaced. "Kind of hard to forget."

I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. "You didn't move. You just – went down. And you didn't move."

"I'm okay."

"You're not."

"No." He agreed softly. "I'm not."

I bit my lip. "What's the damage?"

He blew out a breath. "They're taking me for surgery tonight."

I blinked hard. "Tonight?"

He nodded. "Soon as the ambulance gets here."

I leaned back slightly, searching his face. "Are you scared?"

He hesitated. "Yeah. A bit."

I squeezed his hand. "You're in pain?"

He nodded. "A lot."

"Want me to distract you?"

He gave a tiny smile. "Only if it doesn't involve singing."

I mock-gasped. "How dare you. My musical talents are legendary."

He chuckled, then winced. His hand tightened in mine.

I shifted closer. "Okay, fine. No singing. How about weird confessions?"

He raised a brow. "That depends."

"I used to steal spoons from my aunt's kitchen and hide them in my schoolbag. Don't know why. Just felt like it."

"That explains a lot."

"I once told Joey I had a pet owl named Jeremy and made him leave crackers on the windowsill for three weeks."

"Did he?"

"Of course. I had him trained."

He let out another soft laugh, then hissed and dropped his head back. "Keep going. Please."

I bit my lip. "I once tried to pierce my ear with a safety pin. Shannon caught me halfway through and made me soak it in disinfectant for three days."

"That sounds horrifying."

"It was. The hole closed up the next week anyway."

We went quiet again.

His hand didn't let go of mine.

"You didn't have to come." He said eventually, voice low.

I looked at him. "Of course I did."

I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to his shoulder. "Don't scare me like that again, okay?"

"No promises." He whispered.

I laughed through my nose. "You're the worst."

"Yeah." His voice dipped. "But you stayed."

"I'm not going anywhere."