Please Try Again//ONC 2024

15. The End

An uncomfortable weight pressed heavily on my stomach, and as I shifted to alleviate it, a searing pain shot through my back, jolting me awake with a gasp. Blinking against the harsh brightness of the room, I found myself surrounded by blinding white walls instead of the familiar grayness.

Turning away from the overwhelming whiteness, I spotted Robert's sleeping form, his head resting on my belly. His firm yet gentle grip captured one of my hands with both of his. Unable to resist the urge, I reached out with my free hand to run my fingers through his tousled hair.

A tube snaked from my arm, limiting my movement slightly, but I managed to stroke his hair enough to gain comfort despite my disorientation.

My soft touch alerted Robert, and he jerked awake.

With a sense of disbelief, he whispered my name, "Nicole," as though he was uncertain if I was a figment of his imagination or lying awake right before him. His tone was hushed, as if he didn't want to startle me or perhaps feared that I would disappear if he spoke too loudly.

"Robert," I answered, then realized my lips were parched. Robert didn't wait for me to say anything else. He leaned over and kissed me on the head.

"You're awake. Let me get your parents. They just went home to shower and change." He looked at his watch and frowned. "They should be back any minute. I didn't realize I fell asleep for so long."

"My parents, they're okay. Is Dad okay?" I reached out for his hand, panic overriding the pain the movement caused.

"He's fine," Robert assured me as he gently pushed me back onto the bed. "He had a mild concussion, but otherwise, they both fared better than you.

"What happened?" I asked, still holding his hand, not letting him leave.

"You were shot. My team got there in time, but he grabbed a gun from somewhere. His aim was off, thank goodness, so it hit you on the outside of the right shoulder but missed most of the major muscles."

I repeated, "My right shoulder," and then lifted my arm as if holding a paintbrush, but a sharp pain shot through me, and I had to drop my hand. Tears welled in my eyes as I realized how difficult it would be to hold a paintbrush. "I'm right-handed."

"I know, Nicky. But as soon as you're ready, we'll make sure you get the best physical therapists," Robert promised, his warm hand resting gently on my head. He brushed a strand of hair away from my forehead, and I felt a sense of comfort wash over me. Despite my anxiety and worry, the simple automatic gesture made me feel safe and secure. But before I could fully relax, guilt punched my chest. I placed my left hand on my belly, feeling selfish and ineffective, and Robert's eyes followed my movement.

"Beth told the doctors when you went into surgery," Robert laid his hand over mine. "Why didn't you tell me, Nicky?"

"You left right after I found out. I was going to tell you when you got back. Is it gone?" Tears streamed down my face as I thought of my ineptitude at protecting the young life in me.

"No, Nicky, it's still there. They just don't know if it will survive," Robert comforted me as he perched himself delicately on the bed and took hold of my other hand, careful not to disturb my arm. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to keep it. I didn't know if you were happy about it."

"I am happy, are you?" Anticipation of his answer overwhelmed any other thought. Without him, would I be able to raise this child alone?

"Nicky, you are the most important thing to me, but, of course, I want our child to live," Robert promised.

"Child?" Mom asked as she entered the room. Dad came in behind her and rushed to my side to kiss me, but Mom stood at the door, frowning. "So you are keeping it?"