"How are you doing?" Ben asked, sitting down by Carey.
"Distraught." She replied absently, staring at the white walls.
"He'll be okay, Mumford." He gave her an uneasy smile, forcing it. "He's a fighter, you know he can take it."
Carey seemed distracted by what Ben had called her, it was something Marcus always had when he was teasing her, which happened to be always, that's how he was. It wasn't in him not to make a joke and not to tease his wife in the most loving manner possible. "If he's willing he'll fight. He is stubborn as Hell." Carey murmured, still gazing on absently.
"Of course he's willing to fight, Carey. Look, he's got you as a wife and his baby daughter and the band. There's no way he'd give all that up, he's got so much now. You know that." He set his hand on her shoulder and she looked at him, her brown puffy eyes staring in his before she merely nodded, lost in thought and deprived of hope. She thought back to earlier when she'd seen him last. He was his usual chipper self, sneaking little kisses from her between feeding Ellie a spoonful of peas. Somehow he was the only one who could get her to eat them without force. She absolutely adored him and quickly became a complete daddy's girl. She did everything he did, and it was even better that Marcus had become such an amazing father. Carey had admittedly had some doubts, as his partying lifestyle gave allowance for, but since she was born Marcus had changed incredibly. Carey saw more of that soft quiet and loving side than the loud and exuberant one he usually had. She had to admit she liked the reserved side more, as that was when he was more openly affectionate and sweet to her. And he was amazing with Ellie. Just last week she'd caught him laying on his back and bouncing her on his belly. It was the cutest thing she'd seen all day, she remembered. He was so sweet and kind and gentle with her. She'd never seen him get rowdy with his baby girl close to him. She looked down at her daughter, wondering if she'd ever see her father again. The thought was excruciating, and she quickly thought of something different, something happier, but the longer they went on waiting, the longer the thought of him being gone filled her brain.
Benji, still sitting next to her, was also now reflecting on all his years with Marcus. His favourite memory still was when they were eight and Marcus had planned for them to play cowboys and Indians all day. He'd even gone to the extent to make a teepee out of a few sticks and a towel he'd found. It was incredibly fun, Ben recalled, the most of all of their days. Marcus of course had to be the brave cowboy, saving the girl (which was their dog at the time) from Ben, the evil Indian mastermind. He remembered Marcus getting in trouble for digging a hole for his non existent well. Marcus was always like that, childish and fun and imaginative. Ben couldn't think about what would happen if he lost that inspiration and fun loving spark Marcus carried around with him everywhere.
Ted and Winston returned from the cafeteria with coffee in their hands. Besides the consuming worry of their friend, the caffeine was the only thing keeping them awake. They took their seats next to Carey, Winston letting out a long sigh. "He's been in there for fucking ever." He muttered, messing with the hem of his shirt. He too wasn't in the mood to make any real conversation, too busy thinking about the first time he'd met Marcus, and their drunken Shania Twain karaoke. Ted ran his fingers through his blonde curls, remembering seeing Marcus throw up in that plant. He didn't know why that was the memory that he thought of when Marcus came to mind, but it was hilarious, he thought. Marcus was always one to give it a hundred percent, even when he was in no condition to give more than fifty. He'd always admired that about the lad, his persistence.
After what seemed like millenniums had passed, a nurse walked into the dark and cold hallway, standing in front of the group of tired and worried sick friends. She waited for them to stop thinking about the aspects of Marcus they loved before speaking. "Mr. Mumford has been post op for about three hours now and the anaesthetic is wearing off. He's awake and stable, although he's in a critical amount of pain. He fractured two ribs, suffered severe lacerations on his side, and multiple contusions are on his body. Immediate family can see him now."
Carey stood up, pulling Ellie up out of her car seat where she was sleeping. She followed the nurse back to the room, afraid of what her husband would look like. She held her daughter close, using her to calm herself down. They entered the room as Carey's frantic heartbeat stopped and her blood ran cold. He looked as awful as she'd imagined, but seeing the actual version of him so pitifully fragile and pale was still a shock. She'd imagined the bruises and bandages, but to see him so helpless broke her spirit. His face was a ghostly white, signifying the blood he lost. The bandage covering his side was massive, worrying Carey to an extent that was not possibly healthy. He was awake, and his face brightened ever so slightly when he saw her, tears soon filling his eyes. His scraped fingers stretched towards her, and she moved on heavy feet.
"Marcus, love." She sat by his bedside, tears welling up, "God. Marcus." She whispered as they began to fall. Painfully, Marcus reached his hand up to her cheek, wiping the tears away. "Shh, noodle. S'okay." He breathed, words barely audible as it was all he could do to lift his hand and look at her. She set her hand over his, sniffling obnoxiously, "I thought you wouldn't be here, still. Jesus Christ, darling. You look terrible." She set Ellie in the crook of his arm, where he wasn't hurt. He smiled down at his little girl, holding her as best he could.
"Most of it's on your other side, right?"
He nodded, smiling a little up at her. "S'okay. Hurts, but." He dismissed it with a wave of his hand, refocusing on his daughter.
"She could tell something was wrong with you, Marcus." Carey told him, brushing her fingers down his bruised forearm. He lifted a questioning eyebrow at her, eyes heavy but still willing to stay awake for her.
"She just stared up at me with those eyes of yours, not giggling and squealing like she normally is. God, I would have killed for one of her loud squeals around the seventh hour. The silence was unbearable, although I'm sure it hasn't been much better for you." She brought his slightly swollen hand to her lips, kissing his ring. "I thought I gave you specific instructions to be careful."
"I was careful, noodle." His large fingers slid between hers, and they tried hard to squeeze hers, but the bruising hurt, and his strength was diminishing.
She smiled gently at him, rubbing his bloody knuckles. "Hey, love, I know you're tired. How about you get some much needed rest and I'll come by tomorrow with some colouring books for you. I know you're actually five and you like them more than Ellie."
"Stay." He murmured simply, staring at her pleadingly. She needed sleep, but she couldn't leave him, not in this state. She nodded, kissing his forehead.
"Okay, baby. I'll just go get her car seat and bag and I'll tell everyone to go home." He nodded, trying to press into her cheek without hurting himself. He watched her run off, before looking down at his beautiful baby girl, who'd such a hold on him. He whispered softly, hugging her close to his undamaged side, "Hey, little peanut. I'm glad you came by to see me. I missed you so much when I was in that other room. The doctors aren't as calming as you are, even though they try to be." He smirked a little, the only sign of his real self since he'd been t-boned by that truck driver. Carey returned with their daughter's things, setting them down and taking her place at the head of his bed.
"Care, c'mere." He said softly, pointing to small space next to him.
"I can't fit there, silly." She brushed her fingers through his hair before taking Ellie and setting her down in the seat, draping a blanket over her. She then laid her head on the bed, arms curling around his large one. The heart monitor was the most comforting thing she'd had all day, and she let out a heavy sigh.
"God, you're a moron. A bloody fucking moron that should have listened to his wifey, but I still love you." She kissed his bicep gently, "I love you a lot, Marcus Mumford. So you better get well soon, idiot, cause your family needs you."
"Awh, love. I'm lots better now that you're here." Marcus smiled tiredly but teasingly at her. "'M still gonna be here for many years to annoy the shit out of you."
"Promise, you dumb fuck?" She raised her pinky finger.
He raised his hand, linking his finger with hers and giving it a shake. "I promise, twerp."
A/N: well it's been a while. You guys forgot about this story. Well guess what. So did I. If you've any suggestions (please I'm unimaginative) comment xx
