the recovery project [2]

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fiona

this time when she wakes up, it is calm, and she senses the presence of more than one individual in her room. her parents, two nurses, a doctor, and elijah all surround her, staring at her as if she is a showcase at a museum.

"why the fuck did you sedate me?" she curses, and her parents wince at the foul language. "why did you put me back under? all i wanted to do was to see what was going on!"

"fiona," the doctor, presumably doctor bowers, is next to her, setting a clipboard down. "do you remember what happened to you three weeks ago?"

she racks her brain for memories. "three weeks ago... no. there was an accident last night, but nothing else."

"last night?" he asks. "can you tell me what happened?"

"i was driving elijah home," she says, the pain in her skull returning. "we were arguing, and then everything just crashed. i don't remember..."

her mom is crying— why? "fiona, you ran over a bad pothole and spiraled out of control. you hit a tree from the passenger side. you got a terrible concussion."

"so?"

"you've been in a coma for the past three weeks, miss letkum."

what? how is this possible? she... it was just last night...

elijah is sitting by her side, staring solemnly at the ground, even though she knows he can't see anything.

"you can leave tomorrow night, your vitals are doing well, but if anything changes, contact us immediately. with your concussion, you may be suffering memory loss or confusion, or you might also be struggling to concentrate. if you struggle to sleep or sleep too much, please let me know, same to if you are constantly nauseous or vomiting. unfortunately, you will be extremely sensitive to sound, and often be tired until you recover..."

she zones out, her gaze fixated upon elijah's arm in a cast. his jaw is clenched tightly, and he repeatedly opens and closes his hand.

"can i be alone with elijah?" she blurts, looking away from her parents' hurt and appalled faces. "please."

everyone leaves, and he sits there, face expressionless.

"i did this," she whispers, fingers running along his cast, voice cracking as she speaks. "i hurt you because of my stupidity, and i—"

"shut up."

she does.

it is minutes before he speaks again, voice hushed, but she can sense the anger behind each word. "you're so terrified of everyone leaving you, but then you... i thought you left me. do you have any idea what it was like, to come here every day and find out that your body was still lying here like a fucking corpse and there wasn't a damn thing i could do about it?"

"i'm sorry," she says, tears rolling down her cheeks. "i never meant to cause you any harm."

as if finally sensing her state, he reaches out to her, fingers stumbling a little to find her cheeks so he can wipe them. "truth? i'm scared to lose you too— no, i'm fucking terrified to lose you. but i'd rather lose you in a breakup than... than like this."

"i never should have said everything i did," she says, guilt taking a hold of her like a panic attack. "i'm sorry—"

he shakes his head with raised hand. "don't apologize. it wasn't your fault. what happened was an accident, yeah?"

"but—"

"fiona."

"okay."

elijah scoots his chair closer to the bed and rests his head in her lap. like a reflex, she instinctively runs her fingers through his hair. his hands wrap around hers; comforting, warm, safe.

"codail, mo taisce," he murmurs, tracing shapes on her palm.

"what language is that?" she mumbles with a yawn.

"irish," he says, smiling. "it means 'sleep, my treasure.' my great great grandparents taught it to my great grandparents even after they immigrated to america, who taught it to my grandparents, who taught it to my parents, who taught it to me."

"i love you," she says so quietly under breath, consciousness leaving her as fast as a wave hits the shore.