Chapter Text
They spent far too much time at hospitals.
He paced the hospital room, watching as Doctor Abbot finished up his tests. Maggie sent him a reassuring smile from her bed, wordlessly telling him that she was fine. He wanted, and needed, that to be true.
“You have a concussion,” the doctor concluded.
No surprise there.
“I see you’ve had quite a few concussions,” he continued.
That was one way of putting it. OA had lost count of how many concussions she’d had in this year alone. He didn’t know how it was medically possible for her to have avoided developing post-concussion syndrome.
“So I must imagine you’ve been told this before, but I cannot stress the importance of rest enough,” he continued. “For both your body and your brain. That means no reading, no TV, no exercise, and don’t use your body beyond what’s necessary.”
She didn’t protest.
She really must be shaken up, OA thought.
“I’ll have a nurse checking in on you every hour for the next 24 hours to make sure that-”
At that, she sat up, placing her feet on the ground: “I’m not staying here.”
It wasn’t necessarily wise of her, but since her sarin exposure, she refused to stay the night at any hospital. He didn’t blame her. She’d seen more hospital walls than anyone ever should.
The doctor stepped back, frowning. “I really think-”
“No .”
The doctor looked at him for backup, but OA shook his head. As much as he’d prefer her to stay, he wouldn’t help gang up on her. He’d grown to accept that she tended to make choices he disagreed with when it came to her well-being. Those choices were hers to make, not his.
“It’s her choice.” It shouldn’t take him saying that, but something about it made the doctor relent.
“Do you have someone who can look after you for the next few days?”
“She does,” OA confirmed.
Maggie gave him a small smile of thanks.
“I’ll grab you some care instructions, then,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
With that, Abbot left. For the first time since he’d gotten her back, it was just the two of them. He took the opportunity to sink down next to her on the bed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling him as close as he dared. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her ribs even further. She relaxed into him, resting her head against his chest.
“God, Maggie.” He didn’t know what else to say.
“I’m okay.” Her voice was quiet, weighed down by emotion and exhaustion.
You almost weren’t, he wanted to say. You were dead. He hadn’t truly let himself feel the loss at the time, overwhelmed with adrenaline and the need to get her back, but she had died. He’d lost her. For what felt like an eternity, he’d lived in a world without her in it. Now nothing was distracting him from dwelling on how he was sure his heart would’ve given out had she not come back.
"Please, don’t ever do that again," he said.
“It wasn’t exactly within my control.”
Fair enough.
She pulled back to look up at him. “I’ll try my best, though.” She sounded like she meant it.
That was all he could ask.
The weight of the day could be felt to his bone. Whilst he appreciated Scola and Dani coming over, part of him was grateful when Scola made an excuse for them to leave, knowing it meant he could get Maggie - and himself - to bed.
He bid Dani and Scola goodnight, double-checking to make sure he’d closed the door behind them. She didn’t live in a neighbourhood prone to crime, but one could never be too careful.
“Let’s get you to bed, then,” he said, walking back to her couch.
They had a long night ahead of them. He’d have to wake her every hour to assess the concussion. He tried not to think of the possibility of being unable to wake her at some point in the night.
She didn’t respond.
“Maggie?” he asked.
“Hm?”
It wasn’t the first time this evening he caught her drifting. He wasn’t sure if it was the concussion or the emotional toll of it all. Maybe it was both.
“Something on your mind?” he asked.
“I’m a little distracted, I guess.”
Understandable.
“I think I…”
He frowned. “Think you what?”
She shrugged, looking away. “I don’t know what I saw.”
He sat down. “You saw something?”
She nodded. Whatever she saw, she was hesitant to share.
He didn’t want to push. She’d tell him when she was ready.
“I hope it was something nice.”
“It was.” She turned back to look at him. “I appreciate what you did for me, inviting Dani and Scola.”
“Of course.” He knew she felt alone, frustrated with what this job took from her, but she wasn’t. She deserved to know that. “You have many people who love you, Maggie. Myself included.”
She smiled, looking down. “Now you’re being sappy,” she said.
He chuckled. “Couldn’t help it.”
Whilst Maggie wasn’t the type of person to easily verbalize her feelings, he’d learned to read her. He could spot the unshed tears glistening in her eyes and the way her shoulders relaxed. Being loved meant something to her, even though she liked to pretend it didn’t.
"Time for bed," he said changing the topic before she had the chance to become uncomfortable.
She yawned. "Sounds like a good idea."
He couldn’t agree more.
OA woke up with a sob, nearly tumbling out of his couch. Not my couch, he noted. Maggie's couch. Maggie, who was sleeping in her bed one room over, alive.
"It's just a dream," he told himself, bringing his hands up to his face to rub the exhaustion out of his eyes. "Just a dream. It's okay. She's okay." He murmured, wiping the sweat off his face. "She's okay."
He sat up, swallowing the nausea. She's okay. She's alive. She's okay. She's not dead. It was just a nightmare, though it didn't feel like 'just' anything. He could still smell the blood.
"You okay?"
He looked up at Maggie, who stood in her kitchen nursing a cup of tea, radiant and alive and not dead in his arms. That slowed his heart rate a little.
"OA?"
He was staring, and judging by the stinging in his eyes, he was still crying. And he couldn't bring himself to say a word.
She tilted her head, studying him. Her face softened, and he realized she was concerned. For him. How long had he been out? Hurriedly, he grabbed his phone. Damn it. He'd slept through two alarms.
"It's alright," she said, before he even had a chance to open his mouth. "It's, what, 10 o'clock?" 10:17 am, to be exact. "And you've been up all night just to check on me. You've done great, OA. Really. Thank you" She smiled. "Besides, I've been up since the last time you woke me," she stepped up to the couch, "It's fine. I promise."
"Oh. Good." He sniffled, wiping away some tears.
She placed a hand on his shoulder, and he relaxed into her touch. "I would've woken you, but I figured you needed some sleep." She sat down next to him. "Judging by the look on your face, I'm guessing you didn't get the rest you deserved."
"It's fine," he croaked, fighting the urge to pull her into a hug and never let go.
She moved her hand to his back, running it in soothing motions. "You don't want to talk about it?"
What was he supposed to say? That he dreamed of her dying, and that it wrecked him? ' Wrecked’ didn't even feel like a strong enough word for all this. He had no idea where to even begin.
“I know it must've been... scary for you to see me like that."
Someone else might not have picked up on her small pause before scary, but he did. It wasn't her disregarding his trauma; It was her struggling to believe she was important enough. She tended to build these walls around her heart. Even after seven years, it was hard for her to remember that she was loved. He was grateful he still had more time with her to prove how cared for she was.
“It was.” He confirmed. “I don’t know what I’d done if I…” He felt his heart speed up again at the memory. "I had a dream where I did," he admitted quietly.
She tilted her head, still rubbing his back. "I'm sorry you dreamt that, OA."
"I'm fine, Maggie." He sighed, trying to rid himself of the heartache. "It was just a bad dream." He shouldn't still be crying.
"Doesn't mean the emotions aren't real.”
He shrugged. "Yeah. I'm just… really glad you're okay."
She smiled softly. "You're not getting rid of me just yet," she assured him. “You’re stuck with me.”
At that, he managed a small smile. "No one I'd rather be stuck with."