Archive of Our Own

The storm hits in the afternoon, when there are already dark clouds rolling in from the West and a gentle, humid breeze blowing the wind chimes outside the house. 

Cathy isn’t surprised by the sudden change in weather. She makes a point of always being prepared for whatever may come her way, so she gathers the necessities and heads down into the basement. 

After locking the door behind herself, she checks she has food and water, and then sits down on the couch and tries to breathe through the uneasy feeling growing in her chest. It takes her less than fifteen minutes to get settled in, and though she’s used to this, having grown up in Oklahoma and raised her daughter here, it’s still frightening.

The first thing she does is check the news. She learns that an EF3 tornado has just blown through Shamrock and is heading towards Sapulpa. 

Cathy immediately messages Javi. 

She asks him to tell her what’s going on, and what their plan is (if they even have one yet), because she knows the Wranglers will likely be going live from the center of the action any minute now. It never gets any easier to see them out there, now that they’re a part of her life now too, but she opens YouTube, finds their channel, and waits.

It’s still too soon. There’s no timer tracking the minutes and seconds yet until the stream will start, so Cathy decides to use the time before the storm hits and the power will likely be cut to call Kate.

It rings and rings, and for a moment, Cathy forgets. 

She forgets that Kate isn’t here. She forgets that she doesn’t have to worry about Kate being caught in the storm, because Kate is in New York. 

So if Kate doesn’t pick up her phone, it wouldn’t mean she’s in danger. It would mean she’s busy at work, because it’s the middle of the day, and Kate doesn’t get out until five o’clock.

Cathy’s still relieved when Kate finally answers, giving her a chance to speak to her daughter. 

Cathy is prepared this time, despite the fact that having to hide out in her basement and pray she’ll make it to see the sunrise the next day never gets easier. “Kate. Kate, honey, I’m so glad you picked up —”

“Mom, I heard, Javi called me,” Kate says in a rush. “Are you okay? Are you safe?”

“Yeah, I’m safe, I’m down in the basement right now,” Cathy says. She has everything she needs. Food, water, flashlights. All she can do now is wait. “I just wanted to talk to you before we lose power.”

Kate sighs shakily. “Mom, Javi said it’s not looking good,” she says. Cathy puts her on speaker and goes to her messages; she hasn’t heard from Javi yet, but she’s glad to hear that Kate has talked to him. “The Wranglers are out there now. He said it’s getting stronger…I hate this, mom. I hate being so far away. If someone gets hurt, and I can’t be there, I don’t know what I’d do…”

As Kate speaks, Cathy hops back onto YouTube with shaky hands, and she finds it to be a small comfort that the Wranglers will be going live in five minutes. “They’ll be alright, Kate,” she says, trying to reassure herself as well, though it isn’t easy, especially since what Kate said is true. “Are you gonna watch the livestream? Maybe it’ll help you feel better if you can see what’s going on —”

“No,” Kate says. “No, I - I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Okay,” Cathy sighs. “Have you talked to Tyler?”

“Yeah. He couldn’t talk long, but he said not to worry about him,” Kate says tiredly. “He said he’ll call me when it’s over. Whenever that is.”

Cathy wishes there was more she could do, and more she could say, but she finds being quiet is easier, especially since she doesn’t know what the right thing to say is. 

Her mind is racing, and Javi still hasn’t gotten back to her. She listens to the sounds coming from Kate’s end as she opens iMessage. She finds Tyler’s name close to the top and texts him to ask him how everything is going, though, if she’s being honest, she doesn’t expect a response.

The next notification she receives is that the Wranglers’ live stream has begun. “They’re live, Kate.”

Kate hesitates, then quickly says, “I have to go, mom. Just — be careful, okay? I love you.”

Half an hour later, the power goes out. 

Cathy tries not to be overwhelmed by the fear as she grabs her flashlight and turns it on, though she’s still mostly sitting in the dark. She hasn’t had an appetite to eat yet, and she’s not sure she will tonight, as her mind has mostly been on the Wranglers.

Even watching them on Youtube and being able to see them with her own eyes isn’t comforting. It’s just — Cathy doesn’t want them out there at all. If she had it her way, she’d have them all safe in here with her. She doesn’t like seeing Tyler race head on into the storm, and she doesn’t like that he doesn’t seem afraid when he does it. 

She doesn’t want to imagine what it would do to Kate, if something were to happen to Tyler in those moments, and how she would feel, being so far away and unable to get to him.

Cathy doesn’t have any way to contact them now, though nobody was answering her texts before the power went out, anyway. 

Time seems to move differently now that she’s on her own and unable to fill the silence with the noise from the livestream. Hearing Tyler’s voice had given her some reassurance that they were okay and everything was going as well as it could, but now it’s quiet, and everything is still.

Cathy sleeps restlessly after curling up on the couch, and when she wakes up, her flashlight is standing upright, still shining up at the ceiling. Her half-full plastic water bottle is on the table where she left. Everything is the same, but everything feels different.

She sits up slowly, waking up at an even slower pace as she tries to remember what happened. The basement is intact, but the lights still haven’t come back on, and when she looks at her phone, she still can’t get a signal.

The sense of being cut off from everyone else, and like she’s missing something important, makes her stand. It’s quiet enough that she decides she’ll risk going upstairs. The tornado would have passed through Sapulpa by now, anyway. Cathy can’t help but wonder if she somehow managed to sleep straight through it.

Upstairs, it’s just as dark and eerie. A soft breeze blows outside, and there’s that familiar post-storm scent in the air. But her house is still standing. It doesn’t look like the storm was there at all. If she didn’t know better, she might have been able to convince herself that it had all been a dream. 

The wind, the dark clouds. The storm warnings. Her brief phone call with Kate. The thirty minute livestream she’d watched on YouTube.

So if everything seems okay, why does she have a bad feeling? Why does she feel like… something isn’t right?

Maybe it’s the maternal instincts inside of her, or maybe she’s just paranoid — if so, she thinks it’s reasonable enough.

She’ll never be able to fully shake off the feelings or memories from the day Addy, Praveen, and Jeb died. 

She’ll never forget Javi’s panicked phone call from the hospital that night, telling her that they’d just lost three of their friends, and Kate was hurt — hurt, and in shock. 

Cathy remembers her disbelief upon seeing her normally outgoing and talkative daughter stuck in a hospital bed and refusing to speak to anyone, even her mom. She’d had a distant look in her eyes, barely showing any recognition on her face when Cathy and Javi sat beside her.

At the very least, she knows Kate is fine. She’s never been more relieved that her daughter is states away than she is now.

With nothing else to do, Cathy gets into her car and drives. The storm continued Northeast after passing by Sapulpa, and so that’s where she’s headed. The damage isn’t particularly bad until she reaches Tulsa, though, where power lines and buildings have collapsed, and people sit injured and crying on the side of the roads.

She’s seen this plenty of times before. She should be used to it by now, but she doesn’t think she ever will be. 

Standing on the side of the road, Cathy takes out her phone. She’s surprised to see she finally has a signal — one single bar, and though the connection isn’t great, it should be enough to get a call through.

She’ll call Kate first — no, Kate is safe in New York. She can call Kate later after she makes sure all of the Wranglers are okay. She scrolls through her contacts until she finds Tyler’s name, something inside of her, maybe that maternal instinct that’s been extended onto him now that he’s an important part of her daughter’s life, urging her to call him. She should check on him, make sure he’s okay.

The longer the phone rings and Tyler doesn’t answer, the more unwell Cathy starts to feel. He has his phone on him, she knows he did. He had to have had it, if he was live-streaming. Maybe he lost it, she thinks, after the connection was lost?

It goes to voicemail, so she calls again. As it rings, she finds herself whispering to herself. “Come on, pick up, Tyler.” She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. 

They’re okay. They have to be. If Tyler wasn’t okay, Cathy doesn’t know what Kate would do. She doesn’t know what she would do either, now that she thinks about it. Not that she wants to be thinking about that, though.

“Come on,” she says just as it reaches voicemail a second time.

She calls Javi next. No answer. Then Lily. Nothing. Not even Boone picks up.

With no options left, Cathy dials Kate, who picks up immediately, and sounds breathless and distressed. “Mom! You’re okay? You’re okay, right?” Kate says. “Nobody’s calling me back — where have you been?”

“I’m alright, Kate. The storm didn’t hit Sapulpa,” Cathy starts, relieved to hear Kate’s voice. She still can’t seem to fully convince herself that Kate is safe from all of this so long as she’s in New York. As much as she wants Kate back in Oklahoma for good, she knows Kate won’t stay away from storm chasing. “My phone hasn’t had signal for hours. I just drove into Tulsa —” Cathy pauses and looks around, her chest heavy. “It’s bad, Kate. The damage.”

It reminds Cathy of El Reno, seeing the aftermath play out on the news. She also remembers thinking about how much worse it could have been had Kate not been there to stop it.

“Where is everyone?” Kate asks. “I’ve been calling Tyler, he’s not picking up. Where is he? Are you with them?”

“I don’t know, honey. I called him too, I don’t know where they are.”

“Oh my gosh,” Kate sighs, her voice breaking. “Where are they?” she says, more to herself, so Cathy doesn’t respond.

Instead, she starts walking, inspecting the damage as she goes. She’s looking for familiar faces, as well, hoping the reason none of the Wranglers are answering her phone calls is because they’re busy helping out the people affected by the storm.

“I’ll go home,” Cathy decides once she’s made it back to her car about half an hour later. Kate is still on the phone, mostly silent, but there. “I’ll wait for them there. Listen, I’m sure everything’s fine. Let’s just try not to worry, okay? Kate?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kate says halfheartedly. “Okay.”

Cathy knows it’s too late, though, to not worry. She knows Kate has been texting Tyler nonstop at this point, and Cathy can’t deny it either — she’s scared too. It’s been hours since the storm. One of them should have gotten in touch, saw her calls and texts and sent her a response.

She doesn’t need much. Even a simple thumbs up would do. She just needs confirmation that they’re all okay, because if they’re not…well, she doesn’t know what would happen.

The sky is dark and foggy back home. The silence doesn’t make Cathy feel any better than she had back in Tulsa. The sound of sirens and people talking was better in a way.

She’s well accustomed to the way the front door screeches when it opens, but it seems to catch her by surprise this time. It seems louder than usual, to a painful extent. Once inside, she kicks her shoes off and heads into the kitchen. She grabs a beer from the fridge and takes a large sip.

It’s then that she realizes it’s almost midnight. It’ll be dawn soon, but Cathy doesn’t think she’ll be able to get through the night like this. Not knowing. It’s the worst part. As the night becomes darker, the moon hiding behind the clouds, all Cathy wants is to see Javi’s face, or hear Tyler’s voice. The radio silence makes her heart sink.

But it’s not for another few hours, when the waiting and not sleeping is starting to become unbearable, that her phone vibrates. It’s five o’clock in the morning. Cathy is almost worried in a way that it’s just going to be Kate, but it’s not. It’s Javi, and Cathy is briefly overwhelmed with relief. 

But then she reads his message — At hospital come quick — and an icy chill runs down her spine.

The hospital is packed, but for a while, there’s no sign of Javi. She calls and texts him for twenty minutes before he finally gives her an answer, telling her to meet him on the fifth floor. At that, she feels some of her tension fade. If he’s the one coming to meet her, that has to mean he’s not hurt. At least, not enough to be admitted.

Cathy races to the elevator, then into the waiting room. She filters through the masses of people before she sees Javi somewhere in the middle of the chaos. He looks exhausted, and suddenly much older than he is. Cathy’s maternal instincts come alive once more, like a fire burning inside of her chest, and she runs to him.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, Cathy,” Javi reassures her, though he sounds far from okay. “I’m not hurt, just —” He stops and rubs his eyes, then drags his hands down over his face. “It’s been a long day.”

“Come sit down with me,” Cathy says, leading him to a pair of available seats. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Javi leans back and blinks at the wall ahead of him. In some way, he reminds her of Kate five years ago — silent, blank expression. It takes him a while to find the words, but Cathy waits patiently. “We almost — I thought we were gonna lose him, Cathy. I thought — it was so bad…”

Cathy thinks of Tyler immediately.

“What?” she asks.

“Tyler,” Javi finally looks at her.

Cathy shakes her head. She has a sudden strong desire to find Tyler. She wants to see his face and hear his voice to see for herself that he’s okay. She suddenly feels as though she hasn’t seen him in ages, even though it’s only been a few days.

Javi looks away and down at his hands, which are stained with blood. “There was so much blood,” he says, sounding far away.

Cathy forced herself to speak, even though she doesn’t want to know all of the details. “What happened?”

Javi composes himself, then says, “The storm was picking up. It was starting to turn into an EF5 as it approached Tulsa. The Wranglers — they were in the truck. I — I don’t know exactly what happened. I wasn’t there, but all I know is they crashed. And from what I saw of the truck, it looked like a head on collision. Most of the damage was on the driver's side. Tyler got the worst of it.”

“But he’s okay, right?” Cathy asks. “Right?”

“He has a fracture in his skull and cerebral edema,” Javi responds. “Which isn’t good because he’s had multiple head injuries in the past. They’re worried about more permanent damage this time. Brain damage. Especially since he hasn’t woken up yet.”

The fact that Tyler had been unconscious for hours after a head injury was not a good sign. It could very well indicate brain damage. But Cathy can’t think about that. She saw Tyler only a few days ago. She can easily picture him alive and well and happy, but she can’t bring herself to think about him like that, confined to a hospital bed, unconscious. It’s so far off from who the man she’s come to know.

It makes her heart hurt for Kate, and she doesn’t know if Kate even knows yet, but what is certain is that Kate will now be coming home sooner than planned. Just for all of the wrong reasons.

“Have you seen him?”

Javi nods. “Yeah.”

“Can you take me to him?” Cathy asks. “And —” She takes a deep breath, feeling a weight in her stomach. “Call Kate. If you haven’t already.”

The next couple of hours are uncertain, as Cathy sits vigil by Tyler’s bed and simultaneously wonders where Javi is.

She hasn’t received any calls from Kate, though she thought she would have already if Javi had called her by now. Cathy cheeks her phone again, for lack of anything better to do. 

It feels weird to be watching Tyler, though it’s hard not to stare with the way his face is so bruised and the gauze taped to his head is blood stained. As much as she wants to, she can’t look away for too long.

She starts to feel unwell after a while, probably from lack of sleep, water, and food. Her mouth is dry, and her bones are aching. She’s trying to stay positive — at least, she made it out of the storm unharmed; not even her house was touched — but that’s harder than she thought it would be. 

She’s always one to try to stay optimistic, and this time will be no different, but that’s hard as well when Tyler’s currently in such a bad state.

There’s no word from Kate, and Cathy wonders if she even knows yet. Or if the reason she’s not calling is because she’s busy frantically buying a plane ticket back to Oklahoma. Cathy can picture it clearly — Kate in front of her laptop, panicked as she tries to type in her information correctly. 

Cathy was the same way once, unsuccessfully typing the name of the hospital Kate was taken to into the GPS. She couldn’t get it right until she forced herself to stop and breathe before trying again.

She can’t think about Kate right now. Seeing Tyler so hurt is hard enough. 

Cathy stands and moves closer to the bed, the maternal part of her telling her to do something, to help him, try to make him feel as comfortable as possible, though she’s not even sure he can hear anything, or that he’s even aware of anything at all.

Going off of what Javi could tell her, Tyler lost consciousness as soon as the crash happened and hasn’t woken since. That means he’s been out for almost fourteen hours now, which she knows isn’t good. The realization alone makes something cold settle in her stomach.

She busies herself with adjusting the wires around him and fixing the oxygen mask on his face, even though it’s probably unnecessary. It doesn’t do much except pass a few minutes worth of time, and when she’s done and sitting back down again, it’s clear to her then that Tyler won’t be waking up today.

It’s only noon when there’s a knock on the door. Cathy’s prepared for the nurse, coming back to check in as she’s done every few hours, but she turns to see Javi, looking nervous and out of place. Of course, Cathy feels somewhat out of place as well. 

They’re both well aware that it should be Kate sitting beside Tyler, and she should be the one to be there when he wakes up as well. Cathy knows Tyler, but only through Kate, so being alone with him, and being with him when he’s unconscious in a hospital bed, makes her feel like she’s out of her depth, or overstepping her boundaries.

“Thanks,” Cathy says when Javi holds out a paper coffee cup for her. She takes it and holds it, but she doesn’t have the appetite to drink it, even if she could probably use the caffeine. “You can come in.”

Javi remains by the doorway, deliberately keeping his distance from the bed. “That’s alright. I — I don’t want to intrude.”

Cathy nods. “Kate…”

“I talked to her,” Javi says. “She didn’t take it well. But she’ll be on her way as soon as she can.”

“Is she okay?” Cathy asks, because she can only imagine. After Jeb, to lose Tyler would be too much for Kate to take on.

Javi shrugs. He waits another minute to add, “I just wanted to check in, but I should probably go now.”

“Wait,” Cathy says. “How are the others doing?”

“Well, they’re keeping Boone tonight at least, but he’s doing alright,” Javi responds. “Lily was just released, though. She’s waiting down the hall. I’ll take her home and help her get settled in, then, well…I don’t know what I’ll do next.”

“Lily doesn’t want to come up?”

“I don’t think she’s ready,” Javi says. “It was a lot for her, you know — seeing Tyler…she just needs some time, I think.”

Cathy nods, understanding, but it occurs to her then that the only one who’s going to be here with Tyler until Kate arrives is herself. 

When Javi leaves, and it’s just her and Tyler again, Cathy knows she can’t go anywhere. She won’t leave Tyler alone like this, and she won’t let him wake up with nobody by his side.

So Cathy stays, returning to her place at his bedside, and praying to a God she hasn’t believed in for a long time that he’ll be okay.

Can’t get a flight till 8pm tomorrow

The text comes in around three o’clock, startling Cathy from a surprisingly restful sleep. She’s still in that hard chair next to the bed, and her neck and back are sore, but she feels slightly more human after getting some rest.

Though her heart seems to sink when she reads Kate’s text, the first contact she’s had with her daughter all day. 

She hadn’t reached out sooner, knowing Javi was going to call Kate, and because she was afraid that too much urgency would only freak Kate out even more. 

It wouldn’t do any of them any good. For the time being, Tyler was stable, and he would hopefully remain that way for as long as it took Kate to make it to Oklahoma.

Cathy sends a quick response, a brief update on Tyler’s condition as well, then puts her phone down. 

Her coffee from earlier is sitting cold and forgotten on the table. It’s the middle of the day, but Cathy’s schedule is all off track now, and if there wasn’t a clock on the wall, she wouldn’t have any idea what time it actually is. 

It’s disheartening that Tyler hasn’t woken up, or even moved at all, but she shouldn’t be surprised. She doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, she heads over to the windows and opens the curtains, letting some sunlight in. 

She stands and watches the traffic, wishing all of this was a dream. She wishes Kate didn’t have to come home to this. She wishes Tyler wasn’t going through this. He’s young and healthy, and he has too many people who care about him. He shouldn’t be in this position.

She’s not sure how to feel about the fact that Kate won’t be here for over twenty-four hours now. What is Cathy going to do for all of that time, just herself and Tyler, who doesn’t even know she’s there? 

Or maybe he does, she wonders — she hopes, somehow, Tyler knows he isn’t alone.

Someone is shaking her shoulder after she falls asleep again. This time, when she opens her eyes, it’s getting dark outside. She startles and looks up to see Tyler’s nurse looking back at her.

She smiles and says something in a soft voice that doesn’t process in Cathy’s brain. Cathy ignores her and looks at Tyler, momentarily afraid of what she’ll see. But nothing has changed. He looks the same as he did before she fell asleep, whenever that was.

She allows herself to breathe, apologizing to the nurse as she stands up. “Is he okay?” she asks, needing confirmation, because now, even the rise and fall of Tyler’s chest isn’t as comforting to her as it was a few hours ago.

“He’s stable,” the nurse says. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but the first twenty-four hours are always the most critical. I’m hoping we’ll start to see some signs of improvement within the next day or so.”

Cathy nods. She looks at the clock and sees that it’s only seven o’clock — still over twenty-four hours until Kate will be there. It’s not that long, but time feels like it’s slowing down. It feels like forever.

“Visiting hours end at eight o’clock,” the nurse tells her, making Cathy look at her. “You’re welcome to come back first thing tomorrow morning, though.”

Of course, Cathy knows visiting hours are a thing, but she made a promise to herself — and to Tyler, by default, even if she hadn’t spoken it aloud — that she wouldn’t leave him alone. She’ll be here for as long as she needs to be. 

“Is there any way —”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, visiting hours end in one hour.”

“Please,” Cathy tries. “If he wakes up, someone needs to be here. My daughter would never forgive me if she found out there was nobody with him.”

The nurse smiles sadly. Somehow, she manages to look sympathetic and patronizing at the same time. “I understand. We hear this all the time,” she says. “My shift ends in an hour, but the overnight nurse will be in to check on him throughout the night. He won’t have to be alone for long —”

“What if he wakes up?” Cathy asks. “He’ll be confused. He’ll need someone familiar.”

The young nurse sighs. “Unless you’re family —”

“I am family,” Cathy decides. “My daughter would be here if she could, but for now, he has me. I can’t leave him alone. I won’t.”

“Ma’am, the hospital rules are —”

“I know what the rules are,” Cathy sighs. “But I promise you won’t even know I’m here. Please.”

Cathy sees the moment the nurse softens and gives in, even if she’s reluctant to come to an agreement. Finally, she gives in, then steps around Cathy to check Tyler’s vitals. It’s awkward for a moment, but then the nurse leaves, and Cathy lets herself relax. She goes to sit down, but something stops her.

She stands beside the bed instead, watching Tyler. She doesn’t know if it’s because she’s just so tired or because she hasn’t left this room in hours, but looking at him, for the first time, doesn’t feel so bad. If she ignores the oxygen mask, the bruises, the bandage on his head, he’d look like he was just sleeping.

She tries to recall the last time she saw him face to face. It must have been a week ago when he came by to give her a birthday gift. 

Cathy remembers her surprise that day. She didn’t know Tyler knew when her birthday was, and she would never have expected him to go out of his way to get her a gift. After he left, she called Kate, who told her that she’d only mentioned Cathy’s birthday once many weeks ago.

Everything feels different and wrong now, but she has to believe that Tyler will be okay. He’ll pull through this, somehow.

Without thinking, Cathy leans down and kisses the uninjured side of Tyler’s head, unable to help the fondness she feels at that moment.

Cathy doesn’t know what makes her sit up, but something rouses her out of a half-asleep state. She looks around the room, and then outside at a pitch black sky. It’s quiet aside from the beeping monitors, but that’s when she realizes it — the heart monitor, beeping at a much faster rate than she’s ever heard it.

Frowning as she sits up, Cathy reaches for Tyler’s hand without thinking about what she’s doing. His skin is warm, almost too warm, but when she touches him, his hand tightens around hers. It’s a barely-there type of feeling, but it’s unmistakable at the same time. 

Her heart skips a beat, because part of her was prepared to come to the conclusion that her tired mind was imagining the heart monitor changing pace, and then try to go back to sleep, all the while trying to pretend she wasn’t as disappointed as she was.

But it had to be real, because she definitely isn’t imagining the feeling of Tyler squeezing her hand, whether he’s doing so intentionally or not.

“Tyler?” She moves to sit on the edge of the bed. She puts her hand on his head and brushes his hair back. She dares to feel hopeful, even though she knows being too hopeful can be a tricky thing. “Tyler? Can you hear me? I felt you squeeze my hand.” She waits, but there’s no change aside from the subtle way his hand goes slack again around hers. “Are you awake? Squeeze my hand again if you can hear me…”

She waits a long moment, holding her breath, waiting for a sign that he can hear her. Anything would do, really. She’s disappointed when nothing happens, left in darkness and silence.

She suddenly wishes Kate was with her. Kate would know what to do. Kate would know how to talk to Tyler, what to say to him. She knows him better, after all.

When Cathy thinks about it, she realizes that she really doesn’t know much about Tyler. She knows he was born and raised in Arkansas. She knows he studied meteorology in school. She knows his parents are dead, and that he was raised by his aunt and uncle — an uncle who recently died, as well.

It’s going on a year since she first met him, so she doesn’t know how she can still know so little about him, but for as much as Tyler puts on a big show for the camera, with that larger than life personality (that Cathy knows, to some extent, isn’t just for show), in real life, he’s a private person. 

He doesn’t like to talk about himself much. His childhood, his family. The only people she’s heard him talk fondly of are his aunt and uncle, and she knows his uncle's death was difficult for him.

Kate was there, though, to help him through it. She even joined him in Arkansas for the funeral.

After about ten more minutes, Cathy sits back in her chair and sighs. She’s about to start trying to convince herself that she had just imagined it all, but she knows she couldn’t have. 

She’s not confident enough to tell Kate yet, though. She can’t get her daughter’s hopes up like that.

Cathy can’t go back to sleep after that. The longer she stays awake, the harder it becomes to resist the urge to text Kate. But it’s late enough at night that she doesn’t trust her ability to think clearly, and the last thing she wants to do is text Kate in the throes of her exhaustion.

Around two o’clock in the morning, Cathy realizes that she hasn’t eaten since breakfast the day before. It was her last meal before the storm hit that afternoon, which feels like years ago now.

It doesn’t dawn on her that she’s hungry — properly hungry, in a way she usually never is — until it’s the middle of the night and the hospital cafeteria is closed. But this keeps her up too, restless as she paces back and forth. She alternates between walking and watching over Tyler for an hour before she hears her phone vibrate on the table.

When it continues vibrating, she realizes someone is calling her. She’s not surprised to see her daughter’s name on the screen. Of course Kate wouldn’t be able to sleep. Of course she would be just as scared and restless, and maybe even more so, being hundreds of miles away.

“Kate?”

Kate sighs. “Hey, mom,” she says.

Cathy grips the bed railing for support, hating how devastated her daughter sounds. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Kate admits quietly. “I wanted to hear your voice. I’m — I’m sorry I haven’t called, mom, I —”

“Honey, it’s okay,” Cathy is quick to reassure her. “You have nothing to apologize for. It’s really nice to hear your voice too.” 

In fact, Cathy didn’t realize how much she needed to hear Kate’s voice until now. It heals something inside of her, and now she finds herself longing for eight o’clock to come as fast as possible so that she’ll know Kate is on a plane and on her way back home, where she belongs.

“I miss you,” Cathy adds. “And I can’t believe you’re gonna be home again in a few hours.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, me too, mom,” Kate says, then, after a pause, she says, “Is this a bad time? I know it’s late.”

Cathy looks over at Tyler. A different sort of longing fills her chest as she studies his face, an ache to see him open his eyes, to hear his voice. She feels like it’s been forever, even though it hasn’t even been two days. “No. Of course not. I can’t sleep, anyway.”

“Mom,” Kate’s voice breaks when she speaks. She’s quiet for another long moment before she says, “How is he?”

Cathy hates that Kate sounds afraid to ask, likely afraid of what the answer will be. There’s no way to sugarcoat it, though, and there would be no point, because Kate will see for herself when she gets to the hospital tonight.

“Just be honest with me, mom,” Kate says. “Please. I — I feel like I’m losing my mind…not knowing. And I can’t be there with him…I hate this.”

“He’s strong, Kate,” Cathy says as she looks down at Tyler’s hand. She reaches out and grabs it, keeping her fingers on his pulse.

Kate sighs. “Mom —”

“I’m serious, Kate, he really is,” Cathy says. “He’s — he’s in rough shape, but he’s hanging in there. He…listen, Kate, I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up, but I should tell you…” Cathy trails off, hoping she won’t regret this. But she thinks that Kate would want to know either way. “I felt him squeeze my hand earlier. I don’t know if he was really even awake or not, but I felt it, and I know it wasn’t just in my head.”

The next thing Cathy hears is Kate’s breath hitching through the phone. “I just wanna be there,” she says. “I just…I miss him so much.”

“He misses you, too, honey. I know he’ll be so happy to see you when he wakes up.”

“What if he doesn’t, though? What if he doesn’t —”

“We can’t think about that, Kate,” Cathy says. “Okay? It wasn’t too long ago that I was holding his hand, and I felt him squeeze mine. I know he did. And that’s a good sign, honey. Believe me.”

They stay on the phone for a while after that, sitting in comfortable silence for the most part. Cathy doesn’t end the call until she calls Kate’s name a few times and gets no response. She assumes Kate was finally (hopefully) able to fall asleep.

By five o’clock, she doesn’t see any point in trying to sleep. It’ll only mess up her schedule even more, and leave her feeling even more out of sorts than she already does. The nurse will be back soon, anyway, as she pops in every hour to check Tyler’s vitals.

As she goes back to watching Tyler, she notices something different about him. His face. A slight furrow between his brows. It’s barely there, barely noticeable at all, but since she’s been watching him for so many hours now, she does notice it.

Hope flickers inside of her, and it’s almost painful. But Cathy can’t not have hope. When it comes down to it, she can’t help herself, despite the disappointment it has also so often brought her to.

She takes her spot on the bed again, pressing the back of her hand to Tyler’s forehead. He’s warm, maybe even feverish. Something’s wrong, echoes in her mind as she moves his hair back so she can see his face. 

As her fingers brush over his head, she sees his brows twitch, furrowing deeper, as though he’s in pain. She doesn’t have it in her at the moment to be concerned about that. Not right away, anyway. All she can focus on is the fact that he’s moving, even if it is just his eyebrows, whether he knows what he’s doing or not.

Despite how she feels inside, she forces herself to stay calm. The last thing she wants to do is freak him out as soon as he opens his eyes. “Tyler. Hey, Tyler…it’s me, Cathy. Can you hear me?” She grabs his hand. “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me. I’m right here.”

It happens slowly right in front of her eyes, the moment Tyler starts reacting to the sound of her voice, or her touch. He frowns when she says his name. He jerks his head away when she touches his face. And when she squeezes his hand, he clenches his fingers tightly around hers, though Cathy suspects this is a reaction to the discomfort he’s feeling more than it is a response to her telling him to squeeze her hand if he can hear her.

Still, it’s something, and that’s all that matters. It gives her all the confirmation she needs, enough to press the call button on the side of the bed, which brings the nurse into the room within minutes.

“He’s waking up,” Cathy says. “He’s starting to wake up.”

Cathy is forced to take a step back as the nurse looks over Tyler and his vitals again. 

But she doesn’t need any more proof than that, because the fact that Tyler is conscious again is visible all over his face, in the lines of pain around his eyes, the way he’s breathing rapidly, like he can’t catch his breath.

“You can sit with him,” the nurse says. “Hold his hand and talk to him. Let him know you’re there. The doctor will be in shortly.”

As the nurse leaves, Cathy feels shaky as she sits down. She swallows forcefully through the sudden rush of emotion, perhaps relief, and blinks the tears out of her eyes.

“You’re alright,” she whispers, convinced that Tyler can hear her now. “I know it hurts. Just hang in there.”

It feels like she blinks, and then before she knows it, she’s looking back into a familiar pair of blue eyes. In reality, though, it takes an hour for Tyler to finally open his eyes, and when he does, he’s, as she expected, confused and disoriented.

His eyes are glassy and unfocused as he blinks at her face. He gazes tiredly around the room, his eyes not quite settling on anything in particular. When Cathy sees this, she panics and calls back the doctor, who tells her it’s normal, it’ll take some time for him to wake up fully.

It’s more subtle this time — due to her not wanting to have to call the doctor back into the room for every little thing — but she feels a rush of anxiety when Tyler’s eyes slip closed again. 

She knows he’s tired and that he needs to rest as much as he can, but some selfish part of her wants to keep him awake if not only for her own sake. She tells herself that he’s slept enough, and then feels badly for thinking like that.

It’s ten o’clock that morning, the sun high and too bright in the sky, when she knows he’s actually fallen asleep again. At least, he’s really just sleeping this time.

Cathy can’t help but keep a grip on his hand as she sits down and grabs her phone. She hasn’t looked at it since she talked to Kate last night, and she sees multiple missed calls and messages. None from Kate, though.

Javi has reached out, though, saying, how is he doing? Boone will be released today. And Lily says she wants to go and see Tyler now if that’s okay.

Cathy sighs. It’s just Javi, and of course, Lily and Boone are Tyler’s closest and oldest friends, but Cathy feels nervous, in a way she can’t explain, to let anyone else into the room, which has started to feel like a bubble that they’ve been in, where her job here is to keep Tyler safe.

It’s the same protective instinct she feels with Kate, bringing Cathy way back to when her daughter was a little girl; bringing her back to five years ago, when that same little girl was traumatized and silent in a hospital bed, fresh stitches going up her thigh, her eyes wide and distant, her face pale.

He’s awake, she says to Javi. 

She knows it’ll take him by surprise, but at the same time, she just wants to get it out there and be done with it. And she’ll leave it to Javi to tell the others. 

But he hasn’t come around fully yet. Lily can come up and sit with him though.

Javi calls immediately, but Cathy sits and lets it ring.

At noon, with Lily sitting on the edge of the bed with a broken arm and five fractured ribs, unusually quiet, Tyler’s temperature, which the nurses had been keeping an eye on, suddenly climbs higher. He’s sweaty and flushed, mumbling incoherently, flinching every time Cathy touches him.

“He’s alright, honey,” she says absently to Lily, who’s sitting behind her now. She looks so young. She looks like a terrified kid. “He just has a fever. He’ll be fine. I’m gonna call the nurse in.”

“I should go,” Lily whispers.

“No, stay,” Cathy says. “It’s nothing to worry about,” she says, even though she’s not so sure about that.

Tyler didn’t have a fever a few hours ago, but there’s no denying that he does now. He’s hot to the touch, and noticeably more agitated and restless than before as well.

Cathy does her best to comfort him — shushing him, brushing his hair with her fingers, talking to him, letting him know Kate is on her way — but it doesn’t seem like she’s getting through to him. When he opens his eyes, she can tell that he’s not present, though she doesn’t really know where he is at the moment.

The nurse comes in and administers some sort of medication into Tyler’s bloodstream. She takes his temperature, writes something in her notepad, then leaves. It all happens so quickly, it’s almost as if she was never there at all.

Things go downhill quickly from there. 

There’s no time to prepare for when Tyler starts seizing. There’s nothing she can do to stop it from happening. 

Cathy is breathless as she presses the call button on the bed, but the nurses are already running inside before the word seizure ever comes to her mind.

Cathy knows she needs to eat, but there’s some integral part of her that won’t allow herself to take care of her own needs, not until she knows that Tyler is okay. Which he’s not. Not now, anyway.

Once the seizure ends and the nurses surround the bed, Cathy disappears into the bathroom. She kneels in front of the toilet, thinking she might be sick, but nothing comes up. She’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not, but then, she hasn’t eaten in almost two days, so she’s not sure she even has anything inside of her to throw up.

She stands and splashes cold water on her face, only emerging from the bathroom once it’s quieted down outside. Tyler’s doctor steps back from the group to meet her.

“We’re going to take him down for an MRI to see if the swelling in his brain has gone down at all,” she explains. “That’s the most likely cause of the seizure, however, we’ll need to run more tests to rule everything out.”

Uneasily, Cathy glances over at Tyler. He’s resting now, though she doesn’t feel comforted by this. What she really wants is to see him awake, and hear him speak. She wants to see him look into her eyes and recognize her, not just stare at her blankly, like he’s looking straight through her.

She stays back as they take him. It hits her immediately that this is the first time she’s been apart from Tyler since the night of the storm. She hasn’t left his side at all since then, but now, she doesn’t know what to do.

She’s only alone for so long, though, before there’s a knock at the door. It opens, and Javi stands there nervously, looking just as uncertain as he did the last time he was here.

He looks to the side, then steps inside and shuts the door behind him. “Lily told me,” he says. He sounds out of breath. “Is he okay? Where — where is he?”

“They took him for an MRI,” Cathy leans back into the couch, sore and weak all over. “It came out of nowhere, Javi.”

Slowly, Javi sits beside her on the couch. “How long did it last?”

“About a minute,” Cathy says. “The doctor thinks the swelling caused it.”

Javi nods, but he’s silent, not sure what to say. He sighs and closes his eyes, looking exhausted as he shakes his head. “But he’s okay, right?”

“We’ll see,” Cathy says, but she knows that for Kate’s sake, all she wants is for this situation to turn around. She doesn’t believe in miracles, but she at least hopes that by the time Kate arrives tonight, Tyler will be more aware and lucid. “When he gets back. We’ll see how he’s doing.”

Javi isn’t comforted by this. 

Unable to sit still, despite being so tired, Cathy gets up and anxiously paces the room.

He’s okay

Waiting for the fever to break

Kate will likely be driving to the airport soon. She may be packing last minute items into her bag, preparing to close up her apartment indefinitely, unsure how long she’ll need to be away.

Meanwhile, Cathy is running on adrenaline, caffeine, and nerves. She can’t sit still, can hardly even think straight. The only thing keeping her grounded at the moment is Tyler, and the reality that he needs her right now.

She’s about to put her phone down when she sees the gray circle with the thumbs up in the center of it appear on her message, letting her know Kate saw her message.

Cathy stares at her phone for a while, and when she looks up, remembering where she is, she’s taken aback to see Tyler awake and looking back at her already. He seems calm. He doesn’t look like he’s in pain. As Cathy stands to move over to the bed, his eyes track her movements.

“Tyler,” she starts. “Hey. Are you with me? Can you hear me?”

Before she can stop him, Tyler reaches up and pulls the oxygen mask down, letting it rest on his chest. “Yeah,” he finally says, even smiling a little bit. “Hey, Ms. Carter.”

“Hey? That’s all you have to say after everything you’ve put me through?” Cathy rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. How could she not be?

“What?” Tyler frowns. “What did I do? I’m the one lying in a hospital bed.”

Sighing, Cathy takes a good look at him. Though he’s still bruised and swollen, and his voice sounds weak and exhausted, she can tell he’s alert now, and aware. “How do you feel?” she asks. “I’m serious. This is serious. No joking around.”

Tyler looks off to the side somewhere, then back at her. “Not good,” he answers honestly. “This hurts. Everything hurts.”

“Do you know what’s happening?”

Tyler shakes his head.

“How much do you remember?”

His silence is more than enough for her to fill in the blanks herself, but she waits for him to answer, anyway. “I don’t…nothing, really. What — what happened?” Then, something flashes through his eyes, and the heart monitor speeds up. “Where is everyone? Are they okay? Is Kate —”

“Hey, hey,” Cathy gently lowers his head back onto the bed. She leaves her hand on his shoulder. “Everyone is fine. Kate’s in New York, but she’s flying back tonight. She’ll be here in a few hours.”

She gives him a few seconds to take this in, then goes on.

“There was a storm a few days ago. It started as an EF3, then turned into an EF5. You and the guys all went out chasing…but there was an accident. There was…debris flying everywhere. From what Lily told us, you had to swerve out of the way, but you could barely see and you were driving too fast. You lost control of the truck and it rolled down a hill, or an embankment, or something. It was a — it was a bad crash. You’re all lucky to be here.”

Tyler nods, taking it all in stride, as he always does. “They’re okay, though?”

“Lily and Boone were the only ones in the truck,” Cathy says. “They’re both hurt, but they’re okay. They were both released already.”

“And Javi? He’s okay too, right?”

Cathy smiles fondly. “He’s alright too. It’s just you we’re all worried about, here.”

“Why is that?” Tyler asks, sounding genuinely curious.

Cathy is sure, then, that he really doesn’t remember anything. “Your head. You got a skull fracture and swelling in your brain. The doctors are worried you could have possibly gotten more permanent brain damage.”

Even though he’s obviously exhausted, Tyler keeps himself awake to respond. “Yeah, they always told me, one more head injury and I might not be so lucky, you know?” He looks thoughtful for a moment, then he says, “Is it bad?”

“We’ve just been waiting for you to wake up,” Cathy says. “I don’t want to worry you. The fact that you’re up and talking with me now is a good sign. The doctors will be glad to see that.”

“Hmm,” Tyler hums, closing his eyes. “Right.”

Cathy doesn’t say anything else. It’s a conversation they can have at a better time. She lets him fall back asleep, and she can’t help but think that the fact that he doesn’t ask about Kate again proves just how exhausted he really is.

The sun setting again makes Cathy realize just how long the last twenty-four hours have been.

Feeling comfortable enough with Tyler’s condition, though, she finally lets herself eat and drink and get some proper sleep. She wants to be ready for when Kate arrives, which should be in about three or four hours.

Tyler wakes again at eight o’clock, just when Kate texts that she’s getting on the plane. He wakes up more out of it than before, still feverish, still very tired. She doesn’t think he fully knows what he’s saying, but he complains about his head, about the pressure around his skull, about the noise, and the lights, and whatever else is bothering him.

So Cathy pulls the curtains shut, turns all of the lights off. She gives him cold water to drink, then rests his head back on the pillow and tries to help him fall asleep.

He says that he’s too warm to sleep, so she wets a few paper towels with cool water and brushes them over his face, careful of his bruises, and then over his neck. 

She can tell, though, that he’s still uncomfortable and in pain, and she fears that there’s little she can do to help him right now.

It goes on like that for a while. Tyler eventually stops talking and lays awake, shifting restlessly, turning his head from side to side. Cathy tries to talk to him, to distract him, but he seems to like the quiet better, so she sits with him and holds his hand.

He falls asleep again soon after, his eyes too heavy to keep open, and it’s not long after that that the door to the room opens. It’s Kate, standing there with her bags hanging off her shoulders, her eyes frantic and wide, breathing deeply, as though she just ran the entire way here.

They embrace. But it’s brief.

Kate pulls away and goes straight to Tyler, and Cathy knows then that nothing could keep the two of them apart for too long. 

Cathy watches from the doorway as Kate crawls onto the bed. She brushes her finger over Tyler’s bruised face gently, then kisses his hair. She just sits for a while and watches him, then she starts waking him up.

It’s been touch and go all day, so Cathy isn’t sure what to expect when Tyler opens his eyes, but she’s glad to see immediate recognition in Tyler’s eyes when he looks up at Kate. 

If anything, he seems in disbelief, like he can’t believe she’s real, that she’s in the same room as him for the first time in months. Cathy recalls that they haven’t seen each other face to face since they both went to Arkansas for Tyler’s uncle’s funeral.

For a moment, despite the circumstances, Cathy sees both of them look happier than she’s seen them in months. That’s when she knows Kate will be okay, and though Tyler may have a challenging few months ahead of him, he won’t have to face any of it alone.

And now that Kate is here, Cathy decides she feels okay to take a step back. So she gathers her things and slips out of the room quietly, knowing that Tyler will be in good hands with Kate.