In The Clear | ✓

13 | the breakfast club

Jensen woke up groggy. And afraid. She didn't recognize her surroundings at first. When she did, she didn't want to recognize it. In fact, she didn't want to be there. Period. End of sentence. Jensen wanted to get the fuck out of the hospital.

            Her neck ached from sitting up while she slept, entire body aching from the stress of the day before. Jensen probably could've slept the entire day if given the option. Even when she'd been told not to stress, Jensen couldn't help but wonder about press. They were supposed to go back to it that day. Had anyone said Jensen would not be there?

            God. Jensen hated that Tina's voice telling her to take care of herself played through her head.

            Attempting to distract herself, Jensen looked around. Five things could see. Focused on her breathing. She would not be having another panic attack that day. Her eyes landed on Scott asleep on the chair beside her bed, which she checked off as something she could see. Darting away for a moment, Jensen's head snapped back to where Scott was.

            Wait.

            No.

            That wasn't Scott.

            Scott didn't have short hair. Or white skin. An earring. Scott didn't have stubble, Scott had a full beard. Scott wore button-ups, mainly. Not shirts with Save Ferris across the chest. And Scott didn't have lips Jensen would recognize practically anywhere because she'd spent the last almost six years of her life staring at them while they talked. Mouthed the lines to Rocky. Kissed them. Watched them pull into a smile that could melt her heart any day of the week.

            "Miles?" Jensen wished she didn't sound so hoarse, feel so drowsy.

            Immediately waking up, Miles jerked up from where his head had been resting against the back of the chair. He looked around quickly before his eyes landed on Jensen.

            "Rhodes," Miles said, voice low, almost a whisper. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

            "Are you real?" Jensen asked. "I'm not making this up?"

            Miles leaned forward and took her hand. Thumb stroked the back. "I'm here."

            Jensen drew a sharp breath in. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

            "I'm sorry for falling asleep."

            "How long did it take to get here?" Jensen leaned her head back in her pillow.

            "How are you feeling?"

            "Please?"

            Miles sighed softly. "About nine hours. Non-stop. I barely had a carry on. Forty-five minute cab." He shifted so his chair was closer, leaning back and keeping his hold of Jensen's hand. She felt him squeeze tighter. "How are you feeling?"

            "I'm fine. I—" Jensen ran a hand down her face. "—it was a headache. Mostly."

            "A headache that landed you in the hospital."

            "It was a bad headache."

            "Tina said you were trying to downplay it yesterday... The other day... I don't know what day it is right now," Miles said, looking up at her. "Please don't downplay it to me."

            Jensen pressed her lips together. "I had a really bad headache. Lasted a couple days. We had our day off and while Scott and I were walking around, it felt like labour. For a second I thought it might be. They said it might be dehydration. It probably was."