𝟏𝟐𝟎. 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞

A/N
I like that the final chapter is ending on an even number, I don't know why.

Also I'm not a doctor (all my knowledge coming from Grey's Anatomy) so any medical shit in this chapter is so unrealistic and definitely not true in the slightest but this is just a story. I also don't know what healthcare or hospitals are like in Morocco as I'm British, so again, this is definitely unrealistic in terms of that.

It's a very intense chapter, and it was unbelievably difficult to write because there's a lot of hospital talk that I got from the internet lol, so please bear that in mind while reading that I have no idea what I'm talking about. It was very stressful to write and you'll probably be able to tell as you read on but our wholesome lil comfort show turned into a nightmare so, naturally, this chapter was a nightmare to write.

Welcome to the final chapter . . .
It's a long one like close to 13,000 words so do enjoy (if you can)

Proceed with caution!

✩ 𝐣𝐣'𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐯

𝖥𝖮𝖴𝖱 𝖬𝖨𝖭𝖴𝖳𝖤𝖲．𝖳𝖤𝖭 𝖲𝖤𝖢𝖮𝖭𝖣𝖲．

That's how long her heart stopped for.

That's how long Pope performed CPR for.

That's how long John B held his sister's hand for, waiting for the pulse in her wrist to beat again.

That's how long Cleo drove for despite her wound, making sure we'd make it to the hospital.

That's how long Sarah begged and pleaded for her sister-in-law to wake back up.

That's how long Kiara spent looking at her best friend, her expression that of shock and upset.

That's how long Emory, for the first time ever, had nothing to say.

That's how long Rafe spent with his head in his hands, his face and feelings hard to read.

That's how long I watched the sky above, the sun seeming to hide behind the clouds.

Four minutes. Ten seconds.

For four minutes and ten seconds, Brooklyn Routledge did not have a pulse.

Her heart did not beat.

Her eyes did not open.

Her body did not wake.

Four minutes. Ten seconds.

We crashed into the hospital in those four minutes and ten seconds. Rafe ran ahead, screaming out for somebody to help as John B lifted and carried his lifeless sister in his arms. Pope, despite his best efforts, was unable to restart her heart in those four minutes and ten seconds.

Shockingly, and by some miracle, the doctors were able to bring her back long enough for her to then be wheeled away and off to surgery. We watched her go, each of us silent, staring off as she disappeared through the doors. The moment she was gone, laid out on a table without any of us around her, I fell under the weight of fear, hitting the nearest chair in the waiting room just as I was smacked in the face by a flurry of tears laced in anger and upset.

I then brought my hands up to my face, seeing nothing but red── seeing nothing but the blood of her on my hands. I've yet to wash my hands, instead choosing to sit with the reminder that I am the reason she is currently laying on an operating table she might never get off.

What if she never wakes up again?

What if I never look into the eyes I fell in love with all those years ago ever again?

What if I never get to hold her in my arms and have her hold me back?

What if she never exists again?

I'm here, completely unscathed, supposed to sit with the fact that my future wife is being operated on when it should be me that was dead for four minutes and ten seconds. It should be me on an operating table, not her.

Why did it have to be her?

Four minutes. Ten seconds.

Nobody felt a pulse for four minutes and ten seconds.

Nobody saw her eyes for four minutes and ten seconds.

Nobody saw her breathe for four minutes and ten seconds.

Nobody heard her speak for four minutes and ten seconds, her last words being "I love you, JJ", and I'm kicking myself as hard as I can because I didn't fucking say it back before she slipped away.

I'm sitting here, replaying every single word she said to me── hearing the plead in her tone as she asked me to look away, hearing the breathlessness in her voice as her body began to numb, and hearing the final whisper Brooklyn Routledge uttered before she accepted the one thing she was always afraid of.

Dying── that's what she was always scared of, even saying it to me as she was bleeding out. Not knowing what comes next, the fear of the unknown── that is what she's always feared and I made one of her biggest fears come true just because I didn't see that fucking knife.

I now have to sit with the fact that she took a stab that was supposed to kill me, and all I did was watch as my own father drove that knife into the skin of the woman I love. Had I seen that knife, I would've never, in any lifetime, let her do what she did. She fucking shoved me, not hesitating to slot into my place of being stabbed.

I'd never been more horrified when I regained my footing to find her taking a knife that was supposed to kill me. I registered the shock on Groff's face as he brought the knife out from her skin, backing away slowly as I rushed to her, catching her before she hit the ground. She cried out, her body in an unreal amount of pain, and all I could do was stare at her.

Seeing her hurt, it was like watching my life flash before my eyes without actually dying.

All I could do was stare at the woman who saved me, who sacrificed herself for me. She was willing to die for me. Hell, she did die for me for four minutes and ten seconds. Nobody should ever be willing to lose their life in order to save mine, but there she was, jumping in because she couldn't stand the thought of losing me.

But now I might lose her all because I didn't stop her from protecting me, and I won't live if she isn't existing right beside me. I refuse to accept a life where she isn't beside me. I refuse to even acknowledge a life where Brooklyn Routledge doesn't exist.

It's supposed to be us── JJ and Brooke forever. She's been in my life for eleven years, so I am not letting her slip away from me, not when we've got the rest of our lives to live together. I'm holding onto her for the rest of my life. I need that girl. I need her to keep me sane, to keep me alive. I need her more than I've ever needed anyone or anything.

I'm struggling to sit here, to just sit with the fact that she's out of reach right now, that I can't go and save her life myself. I'm sitting here while she is hopefully fighting to stay alive, to stay alive for those who need her like her brother who, since arriving at the hospital, has been anywhere but in the same room as me.

If he's mad, I'll understand. If he wants to hit me, I'll understand. If he wants to scream at me, I'll understand. Fuck, I want to scream at myself too. I want to hit myself over and over and over again for letting her down, for not saying those three words and eight letters back to her, and for not taking that knife for her.

John B isn't the only one staying away.

While I don't think anybody but John B is particularly staying clear of me, each and every one of my friends barring Emory take it upon themselves to leave the waiting room, retreating to the elevator where they take to the highest floor in this hospital── the eleventh. There, I assume, they let themselves truly take in all that's happened. There, I assume, is where they unleash their emotions on a floor where we cannot hear them, where they can be alone with their thoughts and emotions.

It's been a few hours now since Brooke was wheeled away, and every time a doctor steps through those giant fucking condescending doors, I pray to God that they're here to tell me the news that she's alive, that she'll be okay, but a miracle hasn't come just yet.

In fact, I'm scared it won't the longer I sit here.

Since Brooke left for surgery, I haven't moved, remaining completely frozen to my seat while I hold my head in my hands, knowing I should wash the blood from my hands but I also feel like I don't deserve to do such a thing. Her blood is on my hands, that's the simple truth, so I won't be washing them until she tells me to.

Gotta wake up now, Sunny, if you want these hands clean of what I let happen to you.

Emory, since getting her gunshot wound checked out alongside Cleo, hasn't left my side. Her head has remained resting against my arm, and even though she hasn't spoken a word, knowing I won't talk even if she does speak, her presence has been strangely comforting.

While her being here won't erase the fact that Brooke is still very much being operated on, I appreciate her not leaving my side, she being the only one to not take to the eleventh floor, instead crying silently beside me as she processes the day from hell we were just dealt.

Currently, Sarah is on the eleventh floor, presumably with John B who I haven't seen, and I don't think I want to. I know he's scared, probably more afraid than the rest of us as he could very well lose the only blood family he has left. He lost his father in a similar way, and now John B may have to say goodbye to his little sister, to the person he's known since birth, to the person he grew up with, to the person he shared a birthday with, to his best friend. I think he's feeling just as guilty, if not more, for not being there with Brooke when it happened.

I'm fucking glad he wasn't there. Watching her take that knife for me was the worst thing to ever witness. To see the love of my life bleeding out right before me while I could do nothing but cry and scream out for help, it'll forever be a nightmare as I should have done more, so I'm glad John B didn't have to see it.

Though I know nothing will wash the guilt he feels as he's dealing with the fact that his last words to his sister were "Be safe", and then the next time he saw her, she was bleeding out and not breathing which, obviously, is the exact opposite of being safe, but it was my fault as I didn't protect her. I didn't keep her safe.

Being away from me might help him to wrap his mind around all this, but I also wish he'd just come down here and hit me because I think that would make me feel a slither of better because I deserve nothing more than a hit.

Pope and Cleo sit behind Emory and I, both sitting in silence much like Kiara who, instead of sitting with us, has curled herself up into a chair in the furthest corner, head in her knees. Emory tried to check on her after she was checked out but Kiara shrugged her away, head shaking vigorously as she continued to drown herself in her thoughts before she also departed to the lovely eleventh floor. Rafe is... well, I don't know where Rafe is, I'll be honest, and I haven't bothered to ask or check. For all I know, he's already ditched and is heading back home as we now don't have the crown and he doesn't care about Brooke, not really.

The elevator dings, and I bring my hands away from my face, looking to the doors that reveal a disheveled John B and Sarah, her arm wrapped securely around his. I bring my eyes off him, not wishing to meet his gaze as it's been several hours since either of us have looked at one another.

Just when I think Sarah's going to pull him to sit down and wait for the doctor to let us know about Brooke, he's brought to stand right in front of me which, naturally, catches my attention. Slowly, I avert my gaze upwards, taking in the eyes that resemble Brooke's. It seems, for the past few hours, all he's done is cry, his eyes a painful red.

Emory brings her head back from my arm, also looking to John B, likely trying to figure out if he will hit me. I swallow harshly, suspecting he wants me to stand so he can hit me.

Carefully, I lift myself up to stand before him. I hold his eyes, wishing he and Brooke didn't have the exact same colour as they're just a faint reminder of what I may never get to look at again when I see his sister. If I see his sister.

I won't cower away. I won't try to swing back. I won't even step away. I'll accept whatever he wants to throw my way whether it be harsh words or a punch. I'll accept it because I deserve it. I failed to do the one thing I promised him I'd always do── protect his sister. Instead I let her get stabbed. I let her die for four minutes and ten seconds. I let her be wheeled off into a surgery that could very well kill her.

So, whatever John B wants to throw at me, I'll take it because his little sister died for four minutes and ten seconds. He didn't feel her pulse for four minutes and ten seconds. He had to carry her into this hospital, screaming out for somebody to help while she was bleeding out. Deep down, we all know I should be the one in that operating room, not her, so he's welcome to do whatever he wants, I'll take it.

"If you wanna hit me, just──"

Suddenly and surprisingly, he crushes his body to mine, knocking the breath and words from me as he hugs me in a similar way to when Sarah and I survived the storm by some miracle. Shocked, I stand still for a moment as I assumed he had wanted to hit me, berate me for not protecting his sister. Instead, he's gone and done the exact opposite, this hug tighter than the previous ones we've shared in our eleven years of friendship.

I peer at Sarah over his shoulder, seeing the faintest smile touch her lips as I imagined she talked him into coming down here, to coming down here and facing the devastating music. For her and for everybody here who I know have gathered around us, I lift my arms, choosing to hug back as I need this warmth just as much as he does as the one person we've always unfailingly grown to protect is doing everything she can to stay alive and we can't do anything about it, we just have to sit and wait.

For so long, it's always been me, John B and Brooke. Or, in her words, it always been Dumb and Dumber and Brooke. God, I'd do fucking anything to hear her say that again. John B and Brooke were my first friends, my first real family, and losing either of them feels like losing an entire part of myself, and I imagine it feels the same for John B.

When he brings himself back, he plants a hand against my cheek, holding my face. "She's gonna be okay," he says, voice trembling as he doesn't know that for sure, but I understand needing to believe that she'll be okay. I've been trying to convince myself that, despite the severity of the wound itself, she will be okay.

I bob my head, feeling tears begin to prick at my eyelids once again. "Yeah."

"Brooklyn Routledge?"

Our attention is brought away from the other, each of us looking to the doctor who has just stepped through those giant doors I hate. John B and I are the first to move from the waiting room, going to meet the doctor. "Is she okay?"

He surveys us, eyes flickering from me and John B to the others behind us, a furrow in his brows. "Are you family?"

"Yes." In more ways than one, we are Brooke's family. While John B might be the only one blood related to her, we are also her family, blood or not. Though, for extra clarification, I choose to offer that I'm also her fiancé just in case that makes any kind of difference, not that it should. We all deserve to know her prognosis, deserve to know if she'll exist in our world again.

She better exist again. My girl fights, so if he's here to deliver news that suggests otherwise, I'm afraid somebody might have to restrain me.

"I'm her brother," John B mutters, speaking up beside me, his arms crossed over his chest. "Is she okay? Is she..." Her bites his tongue, afraid to ask the ultimate question we don't wish to hear the answer of── Is she alive?

I close my eyes, a beat of silence passing between us and the doctor before he opens his mouth, offering us the news of Brooke's condition. I feel a hand slide against my back, attempting to act as comfort, but nothing can calm me, not now. I feel tense, completely afraid of the news I'm about to be handed, and I sense John B is feeling the same.

"She suffered severe blood loss, but we were able to perform a laparotomy where we repaired most of damage to her abdomen," he explains, eyes flitting from me to John B as we simultaneously rear our heads back, lost on what he means.

"Most?"

"Because of where and how deep her wound was, I'm afraid she had irreversible damage to her left ovary," he tells, and I know what's coming before he says it. "We did manage to stop the bleeding, yes, but unfortunately, the damage was too extensive, so we had to remove both the left ovary and the left fallopian tube."

I think it's Sarah who gasps behind me, the surprise registering on each of our faces as we hadn't realised just how serious the damage had been. I mean, I know a stab wound isn't good, not in any way, but for it to be so deep that organs need to be removed is... big. It's life changing.

I'm going to murder my father, and I know for a fact that each of my friends will jump on the bandwagon.

"Removed?"

Pope sniffles, stepping up in between John B and I. "What does that mean?"

"Removing these organs can result in fertility problems in her future," he explains, and I suck in a sharp breath, my chest beginning to tighten as the consequences of this surgery rear their ugly head. "The likelihood of naturally conceiving is lowered as she now only has one ovary producing the necessary hormones, but that doesn't mean it's impossible for her to conceive, it's just... harder, I'm afraid."

I can feel the fucking eyes on me as the doctor delivers the harsh blow, knowing they're looking at me because this is huge. Hearing this after we just talked about all we wanted way in the future, about how we wanted children. God, it's... shit. Don't get me wrong, children or no children, I'm loving Brooke until the day I die. I want her awake. I want her alive. It's just, sadly, I know that when she wakes up, I will have to be the one to break the news to her, to tell her that she went into surgery and had fucking organs removed that could prevent us from having children naturally.

She's young, so I don't imagine the news will go over well with her, not that it should. It's upsetting, it really is, to hear that bits of the future may not work out, and I'm afraid of likely being the one to break said news as I know it'll hurt her.

"Okay," John B utters, the silence eating at us as I process everything he's just told us, unsure what else I can say as I hadn't expected to be handed such devastating news. I really didn't expect the damage to be this severe, hoping it would just be an easy procedure and then she'd be back in my arms and she'd be okay.

"So, uh..." Emory's hand pauses on my back. "What now?"

"During surgery, we did lose her again for some time. We were able to bring her back, but with the amount of blood she lost and because her brain wasn't receiving enough oxygen for some time, I'm afraid we've had to place her on an ECMO machine until her condition stabilises and she is able to breathe on her own."

"And if she can't..." John B sniffles, holding the doctor's gaze. "...if she can't breathe on her own, then what?"

The doctor bows his head, lips forming a tight line. "We will cross that bridge when we get to it, but we're hopeful that we'll be able to wean her off the machine in due time once her oxygen levels improve."

"Will she wake up?" Cleo asks, standing behind Pope, her hand holding his.

"I'm afraid that's unclear," he states, head shaking slowly. "Right now, she's currently in a coma, and we won't know more until or... if she wakes up, I'm afraid, so the next twenty-four hours are crucial. We will be monitoring her closely."

"Okay." John B nods, bringing his arm around Sarah's shoulders. "Can we see her?"

"Very soon," he replies. "They'll be bringing her into the ICU and then you'll be allowed to visit. I'd suggest that when you do see her that you talk to her. It's said that patients in a coma can sometimes hear those who talk to them, so it could help."

"Okay. Thank you."

We're about to step away, knowing we now just need to wait a short moment before we're faced by Brooke. Just before I step back entirely, attention is brought to me. "You're the fiancé, right?" I pause, my eyes narrowing on the doctor, a little confused, but I nod regardless. "I'd like if I could speak to you alone."

I open my mouth, going to reply but John B talks. "Why? This is my sister. Whatever you're saying to him, I deserve to know."

"John B," Sarah utters, pulling at his arm.

"It's your call, but with what I'm about to tell you, I think it would be best to discuss it alone."

I look over my shoulder at my friends, contemplating having the doctor say whatever he has to say here in front of them for John B's sake, but if he only wants to talk to me, I should go, right? I mean, if it only concerns me, then I should just step away and listen to whatever he has to say.

I exhale a breath, bringing my attention back to the doctor, I nod. "Okay."

"Follow me, please."

Before any arguments can unleash between me and John B, I follow the doctor, leaving my friends and stepping into an empty room where a lonely bed sits. He shuts the door behind us before turning to me, and I feel my heart rate spike as a string of questions and scenarios cross my mind. I wipe my hands against my clothes, feeling like I'm about to be put on the spot which is something I don't like, not right now anyway.

"What's going on?" I ask, holding the scary gaze of the doctor. Okay, it's not scary, I'm just exaggerating because I'm fucking scared. "Is there more? Is she actually not okay? Will she──"

"How long had she not been breathing for when you arrived?"

"Four minutes, ten seconds," I recite for the umpteenth time today, though this is the first time I say it to an actual person, having only repeated those numbers in my head. "Why?"

"We believe, in that time, your fiancée suffered a miscarriage."

My mouth gapes, a scoff falling past my lips as I shake my head in denial, not understanding. "A-A miscarriage, like, a..."

"We believe your fiancée was pregnant."

"N-No, she wasn't. She, uh..." A new swell of emotion claws at my throat, my chest continuing to tighten and squeeze around my heart. "No."

"There was severe blood loss that suggests she suffered a miscarriage before being brought into surgery," he continues, only seeming to add to the devastation. First, I learn that my fiancée had freaking organs removed in order to save her and now I'm supposed to just believe that she was pregnant when being stabbed by my father.

"N-No. No." I step back, head shaking as I look away from the doctor, refusing to believe such a thing. Never mind my fiancée jumping in to save my life, but my pregnant fiancée jumping in to save my life── No, absolutely not. I can't just believe something like that. "No, she can't have been. No. S-She wasn't pregnant. I-I would've known if she was."

"We've sent her blood to the lab," he adds, following on despite my panicked rant. "We're waiting for the results to confirm, but we strongly believe that in the minutes she wasn't receiving enough oxygen to her brain, she was suffering a miscarriage."

"W-What would the results tell you? How would you know for sure?"

"Well, the blood results will show us if there was a sudden decline in hCG levels. If there was, that would suggest she had a miscarriage."

"No." Frustrated, I drag my hand across my face, bringing myself down to sit on the empty bed. "No. No, s-she wasn't. She..." I hold my face in my hands again, another cry lurching out of me despite me wishing to hold it in until this doctor leaves. "She can't have been."

"We suspect that if she was, the pregnancy was definitely early stages, no more than three months," he tells, speaking like that will make me feel even an ounce better.

No, it just reminds me of something she told me a couple days ago when she forgave me, when we sat and talked about our future, so fucking full of naive hope that we'd get that crown and all our wishes and dreams would come true.

I never even told her my wish. She asked me to and I never got the chance, insisting I'd tell her when she was okay, and now she may never wake up. I never got to tell her that, for eleven years, she has been my wish. Money or not, she was always my wish. Crown or not, she was always my wish. I never got to tell her. She told me hers, how she wanted each of us to be safe and loved and protected, and I never got the chance to exclaim how she is, and will always be, my wish.

I need her to wake up. I really, really need her to wake up. I need her.

I think of a key point in our conversation a few days ago while we played a shitty game of truths where she revealed a truth I hadn't expected.

"Do you remember, like, three months ago..." Her voice is in my head as I close my eyes, wishing I could hear her voice in my ear for real. "Well, we weren't exactly careful..." I swallow harshly, a lump forming in the base of my throat that threatens to choke me. "A couple weeks later, I thought I was pregnant... I took a test and everything... It came back negative."

What if she took the test too early? What if she was pregnant and it was just a false negative? I mean, she only took one test. Though, had she been pregnant, would she not have had other symptoms? Surely we would've known if she had seriously been three months along. Then again, maybe she got pregnant from us not being so careful in the hyperbaric chamber, the treehouse or the house. I don't know, but dwelling on that fact isn't important, not when I need to focus on the one who could wake up from this.

Again, I'll have to break this news to her too, and I don't imagine it'll go well, especially paired with the fact that she may never get to carry her own children. It's devastating, it really fucking is, but I'm holding out hope that she will wake up, that I'll get to hold her again and sit with her eyes on me as I break said news.

I need her. I need her so fucking badly, it kills. If she was here, I know we'd be able to help each other feel better. We'd be able to handle it. I can't do this shit alone.

"Okay." I swallow thickly, heaving out a heavy breath. "Can you... Can you..."

"Yes." Well, at least he sees that I obviously need a second to myself. "Oh, uh..." Before he steps away, he pushes his hand into his pocket, retrieving two gold rings. He places them in my hand, tipping his head. "I'll be back shortly to let you know when you can visit her. I'm very sorry."

When he leaves, the door shutting behind him, I close my fist around the two rings that should be on Brooke's finger right now, and the tears hit me like a truck. Loud, heartbreaking sobs seeming to surface after so many hours of trying to hold myself together, of trying to keep myself sane without her presence.

Except, now I'm faced with one of my greatest fears── being alone, and it's my fault I'm in this situation, living in a world where Brooke is not currently existing, where she's struggling to breathe. I don't deserve to be sitting here, crying for a woman who put her life on the line in order to protect me when it should always be me protecting her.

I not only endangered her, I endangered a baby we knew nothing about. I endangered our future, and now I will be living with the constant reminder that I let her down, that I let her suffer, that I let one of her biggest fears come true.

I unclench my fist, looking to the rings, tracing my finger over the engraved B on the ring that once belonged to her mother. Tears fall, hitting my palm and the gold, and I focus on what her face looked like when I did propose, when I got down on one knee, fully intent on making her my wife in the future. There was so much shared joy between us on the night of the crash out when I proposed, both of us needing a moment of happiness in a world that was fighting against us.

I want nothing more than to call her my wife, but now I may never get that chance, and it fucking pains me to even think such a thing as there's still a chance she will make it.

The door creaks open slowly, but I don't bring my eyes to whoever is stepping into the room as part of me knows who it is. Instead, I stay where I am, staring at the two rings in my hand, wondering if I'll ever get the chance to slide these onto her finger and have her know.

Will I ever get the chance to watch her walk down the aisle to me?

Will I ever get the chance to kiss her at the alter?

Will I ever get the chance to call her mine forever?

Will I ever get the chance to give her my last name?

Will I ever get the chance to be her husband?

"JJ." A hand slides against my shoulder, the presence sitting beside me now. "Hey." Another cry unleashes just as I fall once again, this time protected by the arms of my sister who, since getting checked out, has not left my side, even now. No, instead she wraps her good arm around me, holding me to her.

Her hand runs up and down my back soothingly. "I know a perfect place to go."

I'm brought to the eleventh floor.

──────────────────────────

𝖬𝖸 𝖦𝖨𝖱𝖫 𝖨𝖲 𝖥𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖳𝖨𝖭𝖦．𝖨 𝖪𝖭𝖮𝖶 𝖲𝖧𝖤 𝖨𝖲．

She's fought her entire life, for both herself and for us. I know she's in there, doing everything possible to fight, and if she continues to do so, those eyes will blink open in no time, and brown will meet blue. I will get to look into the eyes I've been calling home since the day we met.

My hand is clasped around hers, my lips grazing her knuckles as I talk softly, hoping she can hear me like the doctor thought. "You're gonna be okay, baby." With my eyes remaining closed, I exhale a small breath, hoping to refrain from breaking down again. "You're fighting, Sunny, I know you are. You're gonna wake up for us, Sunshine. You need to wake up for us."

John B holds her other hand, eyes holding her face, seeing a reflection of himself in the girl lying on this bed. This is his sister, and while we all see her as who she is now, he's seeing flashes of her as a little girl, as that girl he helped raise into who she is now. To see her in a similar state to their father who we all watched die, it's got to be scaring him, that much I know.

As well as John B, the rest of our friends are joined in the room, each of them standing around her bed, solemn expressions on their faces as we look to our friend. She's hooked up to a scary looking machine called an ECMO which is supposed to be helping her oxygen levels.

I struggled at first to look at her, all of us did. We all felt nothing but guilt, especially me as I believe it should be me lying in this bed, hanging on for my life. Now, though, we can't seem to take our eyes off her, now feeling intense fear as those eyes may remain closed forever.

But I'm holding hope, I really am, needing to believe that she's going to fight and fight and fight until she's waking up with a clean bill of health.

I need to believe she's fighting.

She has to be fighting. She can't leave this world. She can't leave us.

Until her condition stabilises and she's able to be come off the machine, we're in for another long waiting game, though I'm prepared to sit here and watch her, refusing to sleep until brown meets blue like it's supposed to.

None of us have explicitly spoken to one another, not since the doctor left after instructing us to talk to her, insisting that patients in a coma can sometimes hear those who talk to them. I hope that's true as I have a lot to say, as does everybody else. If we speak to her, it may help.

Also, I haven't told anyone what the doctor told me earlier before we were brought to see Brooke, only telling Emory who brought me to the eleventh floor where she let me cry. Despite the confused looks on everybody's faces that begged to ask questions, nobody, not even John B, has questioned me yet. I'm glad nobody has asked as I'm not even sure I should talk about it, feeling like it's not my place.

When she wakes, she and I can discuss it and then decide. That's what's best, I think. I just need her to wake up and help me decide if that really is the best option.

"W-Who, uh..." Kiara inhales sharply, pulling her eyes off her best friend, struggling to look to her when she's in this state. "One of us should talk to her... like the doctor suggested. Right?"

Emory nods slowly, chugging a cup of water, looking both exhausted and dehydrated. "Yeah."

"Should we, like, all talk to her at once or──"

"What, like in unison?"

"Like creepy twins?"

"Well, she is a twin," Emory chimes, shrugging one shoulder. "Do some creepy monotone voice, that'll wake her."

John B shakes his head, lips tugging upwards in a much needed smile. "Yeah, that won't freak her out or anything. You hear that, B? We're gonna talk in unison," he says creepily.

"Okay. It was just a suggestion," Pope says defensively, crossing his arms. "I just meant should we all say something to her or, like, do it one at a time?"

"One at a time, right? Give everybody space and just let one person talk to her at once."

Sarah nods slowly. "Y-Yeah, that would be better than the whole creepy unison thing."

"I didn't say in unison, I just──"

"Okay, so who's going first?" Emory asks, eyes flitting around the room to see who is brave enough to display all their feelings in a room where one can't respond, where their words may be heard through the ears of the one attempting to fight for her life. Who goes first in that kind of situation?

I mean, don't get me wrong, I have a lot to say, though I am afraid it will struggle to come out when I'm completely alone and away from everybody else in the room. I'm afraid I'll get too emotional, that I'll struggle to help in potentially waking her, but I do have a lot to say, firstly wanting to profess that I love her, that I'm so fucking sorry this happened to her.

I know that each and every person in this room wants to say something, each of us loving Brooke in our own way, so if I don't go first, that's fine, but I don't know if I can leave her side.

Truthfully, I don't want to leave her side.

Before any of us can speak and offer our hand to going first in convincing Brooke to open her eyes and breathe on her own, Kiara's phone begins to vibrate in her pocket. "Sorry, I'll just..." She pauses, pulling her phone from her pocket, checking to see who could possibly be calling. She rears her head back, eyebrows pulled together. "Uh, Sarah, i-it says it's you who's calling me."

Sarah moves away from John B's side, going to look at Kiara's phone. "What? How?"

"I don't know, I..." Kiara answers, shaking her head as she brings her phone up to her ear. "Hello?" We look to her, just as confused as Sarah as Sarah's phone is back at the house so whoever is calling is back in our house. Could it be a cop? If so, why? Who could be calling?

Kiara's mouth then gapes, eyes flitting to me as she brings the phone away from her ear. "JJ, it's Matilda."

I snap my head back to Brooke, wishing she wasn't in this state for Matilda. Obviously, she didn't know that she wouldn't be able to take a call when it eventually came through from Matilda. Sadly, the call just had to come through when Brooke's in this condition, when Matilda shouldn't have to bear witness to Brooke in this state, not when she holds hope of Brooke coming home and saving her.

I lower my head, swallowing harshly as there is no way I can sit and talk to Matilda like it's a normal day, like Brooke and I are fine when that is the opposite of what we are. "I-I can't. I──"

"Guess we know who's talking first," Emory speaks, leaning against the wall, arms coming to cross over her chest.

"N-No," I snap, shaking my head. "I-I can't make a kid... I can't make Matilda talk to her, not when she can't even reply. No. T-That── I-I can't..."

"JJ." I look towards John B who sits on the other side of Brooke's bed, his hand still tucked into his sister's. "Brooke loves that kid, we all know that. She needs to know what's going on, and if Brooke really can hear us, you know she'll wanna hear from Matilda."

Oh, I know Brooke will want to hear from Matilda, that's not the problem. I just don't want to frighten this kid who is all alone in our house. I don't want to worry her. Scaring her is the last thing I want, but if I allow her to talk to a body that can't respond in any way, I'm afraid of how she'll react.

Brooke loves her and has done since the minute she met her. From the moment Matilda was introduced to our lives, she's been this ray of pure sunshine, making each of us feel like a kid every time we got to hang out with her. Fuck, I love the kid, so to put her in such a position when she's so faraway, unable to do anything but sit alone in a house and wait for us to come home, makes me feel fucking sick.

Matilda's already lost so much── her mother, her grandmother, her home. That kid can't go through anymore losses, especially the loss of Brooke.

"Who's Matilda?" I hear Rafe ask as the phone is held out to me, insisting that I take control of the conversation now.

"Their kid," Emory replies, eyes honed on me as I take the phone from Kiara, inhaling sharply as I bring the phone to my ear, needing to hold it together for her.

The minute the phone is at my ear, Matilda's voice is in my ear, light and timid. "JJ?"

I close my eyes, leaning my forehead into Brooke's hand. "H-Hey, Tills." I squeeze my eyes, already feeling the emotional gnawing feeling in my throat and I've barely uttered a word.

"What's going on?"

I open my eyes, finding John B tilting his head in a nod, instructing me to say something── to explain what's going on, and when I look to Brooke's face, I think for a moment about what she would want me to do. Is she in there, listening in on me, screaming at me to not say a word? Or is she agreeing with her brother on me needing to explain to Matilda what's going on?

"JJ?"

"Yeah," I exhale, swallowing the emotion. "Uh, kid, look, there, uh..." I squeeze at Brooke's hand, trying to keep myself balanced.

"We should leave," Kiara whispers, slipping her hand into Emory's, and I offer her a nod, finding that this might be easier if there wasn't everybody's eyes on me.

One by one they leave, even John B who leaves a kiss to his sister's forehead before he steps out with his wife and our friends. The door is closed behind them, and the minute it is, I feel a lone tear slip down my cheek, the weight of what I'm about to tell Matilda pressing down harshly.

"Brooke was hurt, Matilda."

There's a pause, a moment where I half expect her to hang up, to refuse to hear anymore, but then she's talking again. "B-By that man?" I know who she's talking about── the man who hurt Brooke, who drove Matilda out of the house and called DCS, also known as my father.

"Yeah, kid, but, um..." I hold Brooke's hand tighter, wishing she'd squeeze back and let me know if I'm doing the right thing. "She's gonna be okay, alright? She's not going anywhere. She's going to be fine, I promise." I think I'm saying this more to myself than to her, and I know making promises is risky, but I need to as the last thing I want to do is frighten this kid.

"Really?"

"Really," I reply, attempting to sound confident. "She's sleeping right now but she's going to be okay, I promise you. She's going to be coming right back home to you, alright?"

I hear some shuffling on the other end before her voice registers again. "Can I talk to her?"

I nod, sniffling. "Y-Yeah," I say, exhaling another heavy breath as I'm sort of relieved she will be braving the first talk. "I know she'd love to hear your voice."

"Can she really hear me?"

"The doctor thinks so," I explain, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. "We all think so, so we're going to take it in turns talking to her, and you are about to be the first. Is that okay?"

"I-I think so," she replies, voice remaining shy. "I hope she can hear me."

"I hope so too, kid." I bring the phone back from my ear, going to place it on speaker. "Okay, you're on speaker now, so when you're ready to talk, she's right here listening to you."

"Okay."

I go to take Brooke's hand in two hands, the phone sitting on the pillow right beside her ear, on speaker for when Matilda decides to speak. I know my friends are just outside, some of them even looking through the window, but I don't look to them, staying focused on the two girls here with me right now── Brooke and Matilda.

"Hey, Brooke," she begins, and I bite my tongue, not realising just how hard this is going to be. I'm afraid I'll fall apart because I know Brooke loves this kid, so much so that she begged me to take care of her just as she was dying. In her final moments, Matilda was on her mind as she swore to her that she'd come home, that she'd fix everything and save her from having to run away. To have Matilda be the first one to talk to Brooke is going to be fucking hard, and I'm barely holding it together as it is.

"You said to watch the sun but it's, uh, raining, and I-I think it's because you're... because you're not here and you're..." She falls silent, not finishing her sentence but she doesn't need to.

I find it fitting that it's raining back home, the sun seeming to know that it can't come out without Brooke's presence. It's... poetic, almost. In fact, the sun isn't even shining here in Morocco, once again acting as a symbol to the girl I've been calling Sunshine for years. Truthfully, it seems she is the cause for the sun, and we hadn't even realised it.

"I got your message," she continues, voice wobbling ever so slightly. "And I love you too."

My mouth gapes, eyes holding Brooke's face as I can't believe she actually said it. Despite not knowing her for that long, Brooke didn't fail to tell this kid how she feels, being completely honest with her, and I admire that, praying to God that Brooke can hear Matilda saying it back to her for the first time.

"It's weird," she adds, feeling strong enough to continue. "I-I've not known you for that long but I-I love you in... in a... in a..." I wipe at my eyes, feeling the tears that were clinging on begin to fall, feeling something strange in my chest that I haven't felt before. "I love you in the way I love my mom. I-I told her about you, about how I-I want to love you like I love her, about how I want to stay with you and everybody else because I love being in your family. I-I feel safe with you, with everybody."

I love that each of us have made Matilda feel part of the family, that we've made her feel like an honorary Pogue── Poguelet, if you will. I love that she feels welcomed, that she feels safe and loved in our protection as it's very rare to feel such a thing in our group. I want her to always feel like that, especially when we return.

"If you really meant wanting to save me, wanting to fix everything so I don't have to run anymore..." She pauses, a silence passing between us for a second. "...then you need to wake up, Brooke. I-I don't want you to just be in the sun because I don't think it'll ever shine again if you don't wake up, so you need to wake up. I miss you. I really, really miss you."

If Brooke can hear her, I know she's screaming that she misses her too, that she loves her in a similar way to how Matilda loves her── loving her in the way a mother should love a daughter.

"But..." she follows on. "You did say that if something were to happen that you'd want me to do something for you..." I look to the phone, hearing more shuffling. "I'm going to do what you asked, but that doesn't mean you can just stay asleep, okay? You pinkie promised me, and you can't go back on that, so please come home."

There's more movement on the other end before she speaks again, this time saying my name. Reaching for the phone, I bring it closer to me, keeping it on speaker so I can keep on holding Brooke's hand with two hands. "What's going on? What did you say you'd do if something happened?"

"There's a letter," is all she says, and I know exactly what she fucking means before she has to explain, and that gnawing feeling only worsens.

"No," I push out.

"She wanted you to know where it is, JJ. I-I'm just doing what she asked."

"You're not reading me that letter, not..." That letter Matilda is likely holding is supposed to be what Brooke reads to me on our wedding night before it's followed by my words that are also hidden in our bedroom where I suspect Matilda is right now.

"I think it might help," she says, speaking so gently that it's hard to be upset with her when she's just fulfilling what Brooke asked of her in that message.

"No. I-It's supposed to be──"

"For your wedding day, I know." I can hear the frown in her voice, imagining her staring down at the ink on the page. "She hid it under the bed in a shoebox with a photo she drew of you from the night you proposed," she tells, and I bite back a smile, tears continuing to form at my eyelids. "JJ, is she really going to be okay?"

"Yeah," I cry, holding back on sobbing for the sake of the girl who can't do anything but sit and listen. Exhaling another heavy breath, my chest still taut, I realise what I should do because maybe Matilda is right. Maybe I will feel an ounce better. Maybe I'll feel so much worse, I don't know, but I know I don't want to hang up this phone and I know Matilda wants to stay here, existing in a world she's not physically present in.

"Hey, kid." She hums softly in response, acknowledging me. "Read me the letter."

"Really? But what about──"

"We'll get married, I know we will, but you're right. She wouldn't have asked you to tell me where that letter is unless she also wanted it to be read, and there's nobody I trust more to read that letter other than you, so..." I push out a breath, lips grazing Brooke's knuckles as I hold the face that may never look at me again. "I want you to read the letter to me, and when you're done... I need you to go to the foot of the bed, and look down at the floor. Two floorboards away from the bed, you'll see a paint stain from where Brooke dropped a shi── lot of paint. Bend down, pull at it, and you'll see a letter from me to her in there."

"Under the floorboard? Really? That's so cheesy," she jabs, and I scoff.

"I think letters are just cheesy, aren't they?"

"Hey, why is the ink in blue?" she asks, and another wave hits me square in the chest as I remember why we wrote in blue inked pens.

"It's our something blue," I tell, and that's all I need to say. There's another beat of silence, so instead of waiting to hear what she has to say, I move on. "Okay. Are you ready?"

"Are you sure you want me to read it?"

"Brooke would want you to read it, Tills, so read it to me, and read good, kid."

"I'm only six," she mutters, and I find myself smiling, and it's all because of a kid we've grown to love. She might only be six but she's one of the brightest people I've ever known, having the same intellect as Pope.

"Come on, Tills. Get to reading."

"Okay."

Closing my eyes, I hold onto Brooke, trying to imagine her being the one to say the words Matilda is about to say through the phone as I will be marrying this girl, mark my words.

"Dear JJ," she begins. "I don't know why I suggested writing a letter. Honestly, it's quite a stupid idea given that neither of us are very good at speaking let alone writing. I think we skipped too many English classes in school, but whatever. We enjoyed school in our own way... There's a winky face after that."

I huff out a laugh, knowing the reason why there's a winky face concerning school but I refuse to let that be known to a six years old.

"Anyway, as this was my silly idea, let me start by saying that I bet our wedding was beautiful," she continues, speaking confidently and easily, seeming to suppress her own emotions. "I bet you looked handsome. Gorgeous. Pretty. You can pull off a suit, I know you can, so I just know you probably looked better than me at the alter."

I shake my head, knowing that could never be true. While I don't know what she'll wear on our wedding day, I know she's going to look perfect, like a freaking angel.

"God, marrying you is like the biggest reward I've ever been given," she speaks. "I'm so lucky."

"I'm the lucky one," I mutter, kissing her hand, eyes still squeezed shut.

"I hope our wedding was nice enough. I hope nobody got too drunk and ruined it. I hope my dress remained white, that it didn't get an accidental stain on it from the super expensive meal I'm sure we managed to have. I hope our cake tasted good too, and I hope we kept it all to ourselves and are now about to devour it in bed before we crash out."

I'll make a note to make sure we keep our cake all to ourselves on the night of our wedding.

"Can you believe it? You and me─ married. Wow. Every dream and wish I ever had when I was younger is coming true in the form of you, and I'm just so lucky."

"You and me both, Sunny."

"Eleven years, JJ, that's how long I've loved you. Through everything, I've adored you, and I can't wait to do it for the rest of our lives."

I picture Brooke smiling widely, her eyes holding mine as she reads this letter with such certainty, with such power. From now until forever, I'll just be watching her in complete awe, bewildered by the fact that this girl even chose to love me.

"Anyway, the point of this letter is to talk about what we see for ourselves in ten years so I'll move on from the sappy stuff for now, and move on to business... First, I see us with a big house. Not too big that it's showy and too Kooky, but a house big enough to show off our accomplishments, to show people that despite being raised the way we were, we earned everything we fought for and now we're here, celebrating with a big house that has a koi pond and a marble statue of yourself."

I shake my head, grinning.

"Yes, honey, I remember that statue."

"Damn right you did," I mutter, kissing her hand once again, knowing I'm both crying out of fear for her and because of how much I love her.

"Just like I'm sure you can remember promising me to have a room dedicated to my art," she continues, and I nod along, knowing I made that promise a long while ago, but we know just about everything about the other. "Well, if we're going to have a big house, I'd like several rooms dedicated to my art, and I'm sure you can make that happen, beautiful."

"I can do that," I say, speaking low, but I think Matilda can hear me.

"Also, in ten years, I'm sure we would've traveled  to most, if not all, of the world. I'm sure we've got white pins everywhere like Australia, China, Tokyo, Denmark, Sweden, Spain. Oh, I hope we go to Vatican City too just for the hell of it."

I'll take her wherever she wants to go, money or not. We'll see the entire world. Fuck, we'll sleep on park benches together just to make it work, but I don't care about that, only wanting to see the whole world with her.

"I hope we rode the waves wherever we could. Well, I hope you rode waves and I watched beautifully from the sidelines as your adoring fan and wife. Woah, I'm your wife now. Crazy, huh? Mrs. Brooklyn Maybank. Such a honour, I tell you."

She often falls down a rabbit hole when she talks. I just didn't think it was possible to do so when writing, but here we are, both Matilda and I trying to laugh through the cracks as this letter is read aloud.

"Oh, of course, I hope you're taking me to Paris for our honeymoon. We have to see Paris. We've gotta go to that Eiffel Tower and─"

"Skip to the end of the Paris paragraph," I tell Matilda quickly, knowing already what's about to come as there's been one or two comments in this letter already that Matilda's had a questioning tone for. Having her read about what Paris symbolises is enough to scar a child for life.

"Uh, there's three paragraphs about Paris..."

"Skip them, Tills, alright? Please."

"Okay, weirdo." There's a beat of silence as she tries to find where she needs to start up again, and I just hope she didn't subconsciously read the Paris paragraphs accidentally because that will take a lot of explaining when she's far too young to have such a conversation. Birds and the bees and all the shit, I don't know. Too young, right?

"Ten years," she speaks, finding her place. "You know, that's a long time. Don't we get some kind of plaque for getting to ten years or is that just something I made up? I don't know but I expect diamonds for our tenth. Actually, every ten years we should just give each other diamonds as gifts. That'll be crazy fun." I make another note to get her diamonds for every ten year milestone if it's even possible to do so. Whatever. I'll pull a diamond heist just for her. "I sound so spoiled and I'm not even rich as I'm writing this."

I breathe out another laugh, feeling like a weight is being lifted the more I hear her voice in my ear, imagining it's her talking to me instead of Matilda. It's almost like she's right beside me, talking in my ear, but I know that when I open my eyes, she'll just be laying in this bed, struggling to breathe.

"Anyway, in ten years, on top of the house that we're going to have with a pool, by the way. I forgot to add that earlier..." I recall her telling me about this pool that we're apparently only having for our future dog, Monty, so I don't really get the point but if my girl wants a pool, my girl will get a pool. "I imagine us with kids─ two boys, one girl. I'm scared I'll have twins so that may change, I don't know, but I'm definitely wanting to make some Maybank children because raising a kid that's just like you will be so rewarding."

I swallow harshly, knowing that we may never have children the natural way. With the news that I was dealt today, not only have we potentially lost a child── the blood results not back just yet to reveal that truth── we've also potentially lost a part of our future that we wanted.

All because of my father. All because of a man that was very obviously jealous that I had more to my life than some crown.

I need him dead. I need him to be tortured, suffering in the way he made Brooke suffer, in the way he's making each of us suffer right now. I need him gone forever.

"On top of having our own rugrats, there's somebody else who I imagine being in our lives too," she carries on, and I know what's going to be said before it's said. "Now, as I write this, I know we've only known her for a short amount of time and that she's new in our lives, but I know that if we don't do something one day, DCS will take her, and I can't let that happen. I just can't."

I squeeze her hand tighter this time, suspecting that she's had an idea all this time, only wanting to declare it on the night of our wedding. Now, I'm sitting here, hearing the words from the girl that Brooke has wrote about, wondering if she knows just how important she is to our lives.

"I imagine, in ten years time, this little girl who is currently sleeping in our bed will be living under our roof..." Matilda falls silent for a moment, and I suspect she's gone and read ahead without realising.

"Tills? You okay?"

"She wants to adopt me," she gasps, a level of surprise in her tone that's mixed with the very obvious emotion clinging at her. I smile, leaning my forehead into Brooke's hand, sensing that that was her plan all this time── to adopt Matilda, to save her from having to run from DCS. "I-If you're okay with it, that is."

"Is that something you want?" I ask.

"I-I think so. I-I don't want to leave you and Brooke. I like... I like being here," she speaks, sounding so uncertain, like she's almost afraid to admit it. "Can you really do it? Adopt me?"

"It'll take some time," I say, only imagining it won't be a smooth process given that we're literally wanted by the cops back home. "But, yeah, we want you in our family. You deserve to be in it, Brooke knows that."

Matilda sniffles, and I wish I could give her some kind of hug, assure her that all is going to be okay, that we've got her. I wish we weren't just speaking on the phone, that we could have a conversation in person. It sucks. It really, really sucks.

"There's a little more," she says, diverting her attention back to the letter.

"Okay. Go on."

"Thank you for loving me. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for marrying me. Thank you for being my husband. Thank you for being my entire world. Thank you for just being you. Thank you. I have loved you since I was eight years old, and I will continue to love you until my dying breath."

My eyes blink open slowly, going straight to her face, silently wishing that she'd just wake up by some miracle right now, that I'd be looking into her eyes but they remain closed. That breath she took before she fell into my arms earlier cannot be her last, I won't let it.

"Who am I kidding? I'm loving you in the afterlife, J," she reads, and that's when the tears hit harder than they have all day. "Your Sunshine, always and forever."

I shake my head vigorously, hand gripping hers tighter as I stare at her through blurred vision, the tears falling freely. "Please wake up, Brooke. Please, I-I can't..." I sob, unaware of what I was holding back until now. "Please wake up."

"She's gonna wake up," Matilda says, her voice so soft, so delicate, so unaware of what's going on and how serious the situation is. "She will, JJ."

"I-I can't do life without her," I say, dragging my fingertips down her arm soothingly. "I-I can't."

"Then talk to her," Matilda encourages, tone still timid. "I've sent you a picture of what I think you should read."

Sniffling, I wipe a hand across my face before tapping the message I just received from Sarah── Matilda. It reveals two images of the letter Matilda found in the floorboard that is addressed to Brooke from me.

"You gonna stay on the phone?" I ask, though I already know the answer. I know this kid won't hang up unless she has to.

"Obviously."

I wipe at my face again, needing to rid the tears so I can focus on the screen, so I can read this letter. "Hey, Tills."

She makes a small noise in response. "Yeah?"

"Brooke's not the only one who loves you, kid."

"And Brooke's not the only one I love."

"We'll get home to you, okay, I promise."

"I know," she replies, and I think I hear a hint of hope that we'll both fulfil our promise of getting back to her. "JJ, before you talk, can I say one more thing to her?"

I nod slowly. "Of course."

I move the phone back to where it was before, right by Brooke's ear, and Matilda begins to speak again. "Your name means broken land which, I know, is a bit boring─ really boring compared to my name so I came up with my own."

I have no idea what this kid is talking about, no idea what this name thing means, but I figure it's a thing she and Brooke share.

"To me, your name means strong and loyal and kind and protective and... sunny," she says, speaking so softly, and I smile, loving that Matilda also views Brooke as Sunshine. "It means you don't give up. It means you fight and fight and fight to do the right thing, and the right thing to do now is to wake up and be with your friends. I won't go anywhere. I'll still be here when you come home, waiting for the sun..."

Her voice cracks, and I feel a piece of my heart go with it as she parts with her final words. "I love you, and I'm really glad I met you, Brooke."

I bring the phone back to me, knowing I'll be taking the lead in speaking now that Matilda has said all she needs to say. "I know she's glad to have met you, kid. I'm glad to have met you."

"Stop stalling," she jabs, and I can hear the emotion in her tone as she attempts to move us on. "It's your turn."

"Yeah, yeah. Stay quiet, alright?"

"I'm always quiet." She's literally the loudest person barring Emory that I've had to deal with.

"Okay. I can do this," I say to myself, looking down at the screen where Matilda has taken pictures of the letter I wrote. "Can I do this?"

"I thought you told me to be quiet."

"Okay. I-I wasn't talking to──"

"But you just asked── Why did you ask a question?"

"I was speaking to myself, kid."

"Oh." She clears her throat. "Don't do that."

"I'm literally about to do it."

"No. You're literally about to talk to Brooke and she can hear you, so you're not talking to yourself, idiot."

"All this hostility, Tills." I shake my head, zooming in on the image, preparing myself for something that is going to hurt, especially given that she can't respond, not in any kind of way, but Matilda thinks she can hear, and I'm going to go and believe it. "Okay, now be quiet. I've got this."

"Wake her up, JJ. Please."

"You got it."

Focusing entirely on Brooke, I keep my hand in hers, my other holding the phone so I can read my letter, though it may be improvised due to the poor timing of it all. I inhale a careful breath, exhaling through my nose, and then I just let myself talk.

"Hi, Sunshine. I-I, uh, I don't know if you heard── I hope you did, but Matilda read out your letter, I hope that's okay. If it's not, blame her. Um..." Tears are already begin to collect at my eyelids again, but I really want to try and get through this before I let myself fall. "I thought I'd read you my letter to make up for me hearing yours. I-I know we said we'd wait till the wedding, I know that, but I really needed that. I really needed to hear it, and I think you need to hear mine so you c-can wake up... I need you to wake up because you are making the wedding. I know you said you didn't think you would, but I know you're in there fighting to stay alive because not a single part of you is ready to leave, not when we have unfinished business."

I clear my throat, bringing my eyes off her for a money to look at the letter on my phone. "Okay. Letter." I nod firmly, knowing I need to do this as if there's a chance she can hear, I want her to know exactly how I feel. "To, Sunny..." I begin, unsuspecting emotion clawing at my throat. "I hate writing. I don't really get it. I'm not good at speaking let alone writing, but this was your idea, and I'd do just about anything you ask of me. I'm weak like that, but I don't care. I just love you."

I recall sitting across from her as we wrote our letters, in complete awe of her, knowing then and there that I already wanted to propose as I asked her brother on the way back from South America. I knew then, and I know now, that Brooklyn Routledge would be my wife one day.

"Right now, saying this out loud, we should be standing together on the night of our wedding, you as beautiful as ever── looking like the sun personified in that dress I know I'm going to──" I pause, remembering there's a child on the line, so I move past that point quickly, choosing to say that when she opens her eyes. "You're beautiful, and everyday, I just look at you and I can't quite believe that you're mine, but I'm going to spend the rest of my life worshipping the ground you walk on, baby."

For eleven years, I'm pretty sure I've been worshipping the ground she walks on without even realising, but I'll now do it forever and ever as I continue to talk, voice wobbling slightly. "As for where we'll be in ten years, I'm not sure, but I know we'll be together. I know we'll be happy, wherever we are. Maybe we're going to be in another country. Maybe we'll go and live in Paris, having loved it so much after the honeymoon we're absolutely going on. I can see us living in Paris, can't you? It would be fun."

JJ and Brooke take on Paris── that's what I want.

"I don't care where we are, I just care that I'm with you. I always want to be with you, have done since we were eight years old and I saw you from across the classroom, doodling on the table instead of paying attention. Eight year old me is so screaming for joy right now, I just know it." I exhale a laugh, tears breaking free as I take in her face, in complete admiration.

"By the time we reach ten years, you and me will be twenty-nine, going on thirty which is crazy to think about, it really is," I say, realising right now that we've not even reached fucking twenty and she's hanging on for her damn life. How is that fair? "So, in those ten years, not only do I imagine us travelling, I imagine that we would've had some kind of kid along the way..."

Like the doctor said, there is a chance, but even if we don't naturally have our own kids, adoption is an option── like what we're supposedly doing for Matilda will help. It breaks my heart, it does, to know that she could've been carrying our child, and now it's been taken from us all because of a fucking man I should've never given the time of day. I'm annoyed at myself.

He's a dead man, that I can promise.

I exhale a heavy breath, choosing to skip past the paragraphs about having kids, knowing well enough that I can't talk about it as I feel sick. I feel really, really sick with this constant reminder of what I've lost all because of Groff.

"You're my best friend," I continue, focusing on a happier part in the letter. "You're my girl. One day you'll be my wife. More importantly, though, you're my Sunshine── always have been, always will be. Wherever we end up, know that I will forever be grateful for you because you chose to love me. You chose to care for me in a way nobody else does. You chose to be mine."

I must've done something right in my life because I got her.

"You say you've loved me since you were eight, but I've loved you since I was eight, Sunny, I just wasn't always aware of it, and I'm sorry about that, but I'll make up for being stupid by loving you for the rest of our lives, baby." I press a kiss to her knuckles, dropping the phone on the bed. "Yours forever, J."

I reach into my pocket, bringing out the two gold rings I was handed by the doctor earlier. I slide the rings back onto their rightful finger, looking to them for the longest moment, wishing she knew what I was doing.

"I need you to fight, Sunshine. I need you to wake up for me. I need you to wake up for everybody. We need you. I need you. I can't do this without you, I really can't. I-If you go, I── No. No, you're not going. You can't go. I need you, Brooke, you have no idea how much. I am so sorry that it's you, that it's you lying in this bed. It should be me. It should've never been you, Sunshine."

I move my thumb over the rings on her finger, kissing the spot again. "I'm so fucking sorry." Holding her hand, I lift myself up carefully, sliding closer. "I love you, Sunshine."

I lean down, sealing a kiss to her forehead.

I bring myself back slowly, going to lower myself back to my seat when I feel something── not something internal like in my chest or my heart, but I feel something real at my fingertips. I sniffle, blinking a few times to rid the tears glossing my eyes, and I look to our hands, feeling that sensation once again.

Squeezing. Touching. Brooke.

She's squeezing my fingers.

"Brooke?" I look to her, frantic. "Hey, hey. Brooke. A-Are you waking up?" I use my other hand to touch her face, moving my thumb across her cheekbone. "Baby? Hey, hey, Brooke. I'm here. I'm right here. Matilda, I-I think she's──"

Her monitor starts beeping rapidly.

John B, followed by several nurses, burst through the door, rushing towards Brooke immediately. "Brooke?" I'm pushed away from her, one nurse going to grab the defibrillator. "B-Brooke, what──"

"What's going on?" John B asks, just as panicked.

"Guys!" Kiara shrieks, also rushing into the room, hands holding the frame. "Emory just collapsed."

𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 . . .