Rain Check?

~90~

Chris POV

My heart skips a beat at what I fear was a phantom touch of her finger moving against my palm. I sit, with baited breath, and wait for any other indication that it wasn't a dream. My eyes stare intently at our hands as I move one of my own off the top of hers in order to get a better look. Others around me continue conversing as far as I know, but I don't pay any attention to them, keeping my gaze transfixed on the delicate fingers that rest in the palm of my hand.

'Come on, baby. Come on,' I think to myself as I will her to wake up. Personally I don't care that the doctor said it could take hours or even a full day. I know my girl and I know she's a fighter, her body won't rebel against her.

I feel the soft pad of her finger tip graze my palm, stronger than a slight twitch. I exhale a small laugh through my nose, causing everyone to turn towards me, my eyes still watching her fingers as though they're the most interesting thing in the world.

"What?" Leigh Ann asks me, smiling back as my chuckle gets a little louder.

"What are you thinking about, Chris?" my own mother chimes in, taking a step closer.

"I think," I begin, but pause as I now feel her thumb and forefinger squeeze my hand ever so slightly, "she's coming around."

Startled, her mother leans down over Dempsey's body, putting her face right in front of her daughters, holding her face in the palms of her hands. "Demi, baby? Are you there? Wake up sweetie, wake up."

I don't release her hand, wanting to feel every little twitch and caress as if they're the first touches we ever shared, burning each one into my brain as to never take the feeling of her warmth for granted again.

The smallest hum falls from Dempsey's lips, making my heart beat faster as the women in the room burst into tears at the tiny sound. My own mother moving to the opposite side of the bed from me while Conor stands at the end of the bed, her hands holding Demi's feet over the covers.

Her eyes start to flutter, slowly behind her lids before they open to slits, a groan escaping her mouth before the smallest and quietest word "bright" comes from her mouth. Conor flips the lights off, only the smallest light coming from the bathroom leaving the room darker for her tired eyes.

"Demi? Sweetie?" her mother's voice ragged, exhausted over the last few days events.

Slowly her eyes open, a bit wider than before as she takes in her mother's face before her. "Ma?" Leigh Ann begins crying harder, kissing her daughter's forehead over and over again.

I silently breathe my own sense of relief, lifting her hand to my lips, placing gentle kisses all around her hand, knuckles and finally her palm. "Tickles," the word a bit louder than the previous two.

"Oh sorry, baby," her mother says, backing up from her daughter.

"No, hand," she whispers quietly as Leigh Ann moves back, revealing myself still knelt down by her bedside, her hand still against my lips. "Hi," she says, her voice breaking from one simple word as she takes note of me.

I manage to choke out the word, "Hi," in response before my own dam breaks, water streaming down my cheeks only to be caught in my beard. I drop my head towards her bed, resting my forehead on her hand as I let myself finally relax, knowing that she's here with me again.

An hour passes as the nurse helps Demi come around a bit more, giving her a sip of water here and there, helping her sit up just a little more at a time by moving the angle of the bed. By the time the doctor comes in the rest of us are back on pins and needles having kept our questioning to a bare minimum, never once asking her about what she remembers or her pain, nor has she offered up any comments herself.