Looking for trouble | Vol. 2 | Jamie Bower fanfiction

25 | Resurrection

A/N: Sorry about the short and unedited chapter, but I decided to answer the question you're all asking, "Did Sam survive?"

Jamie

Could Sam's heart just -for the love of god - stop failing? While my brother's heart is currently still, my own is trying beat its way out of my chest. I pace in front of his room rapidly, trying, to no avail, to calm the fear taking root in my veins. I run my hands though my hair, which is already a complete mess.

My parents are sitting on a chair, my father holding my mother, their faces otherwise emotionless, other than the heart-breaking pain in their gleaming eyes.

"The doctors are doing the best they can," my father says in a low voice. He is talking to my mother, but it sound like he is mostly trying to reassure himself.

Feeling like I have to do something I whip out my phone from my back pocket, where I go to message and directly to Skye's name.

'Sam's heart gave out again.' I write. I need to tell someone. I need to tell someone who isn't here by my side. I could tell a couple thousand on twitter, but some things I preferred to keep private.

Cautiously, my mother stretch out her hand towards me, silently pleading me to take it. My pacing must be driving her nuts.

I grasp it. Then I sit down and hold her, or she holds me. I have no idea. My feet quickly start tapping the linoleum floor. My heart is still trying to outdo itself.

No one stops me. I guess they understand.

"Mr and Mrs Bower?" A nurse says, she has just come out of Sam room.

"Yes," my mother replies, as her head snap up to meet her. I feel hot all over, and not the good kind of hot.

"He is alive," she says, I can see the relief in even her eyes. The liberation which floods my body is so overwhelming; I might just have passed out right then and there. The tension had been so high; I could feel the blood flood back into my tingling limbs.

"Is he alright?" my father asks.

"Yes, he is alright, but he is still out," she informs us, "Unfortunately, we still don't know how long the coma will last. His body will decide, when to wake up."

We all just nod, watching all the doctors clearing out of Sam's room, hauling an electric heart starter with them.

I take a deep breath, I instantly feel a lot better. I must have been hyperventilating.

The nurse looks pitifully at us before she leaves.

Still shaking slightly I get up from the chair, unwrapping myself from my mother. I go to the door, opening it slowly, peering into the room. It's quite and the steady beeping has returned.

Everything's the same, my brother's unmoving body, the drawn curtains, the feeling of dreed clouding the room. Everything.

I go to the bed, taking his fragile hand in mine. His fingertips still rough due to years of playing guitar. Like mine.

"Don't you dare leave me," I threaten him. He doesn't react what so ever. That little bastard.

My parents have followed me into the room, my mother appearing besides me, my father on the opposite side of the bed.

The silence is deafening. We all stare at his stagnant body.

Nothing happened. All is the same.

The same.

The same.

The same.

Movement. In one fluid motion he pulls his hand from my grasp and places it on top of his own stomach.