Eighteen Again: The CEO's Wife was a Delinquent

The hospital is busy tonight.

Granted, Adrian thinks as he strides in, the hospital is always busy. But on this evening in particular, all the beds are full - the ER nurses are running to and fro, frantic.

He wonders how many people were caught in the crossfire tonight. He wonders if there is any life that has been lost - any life that he could have saved, perhaps, if he were smarter or faster, more infallible.

"Excuse me, may I...?"

Adrian tried to ask a nurse, but he was brushed off in favor of another patient. They had already texted Asher, Irish and Charles earlier - none have replied.

Now, he fears the worst.

"Edward..." he called and turned around.

"Have you received anything yet?"

Edward checks the phone and shakes his head. Adrian frowns, his heart constricting in his chest.

"President Millicent!"

Then, there's a hand popping out from somewhere beyond them - beyond the crowd of nurses. He takes a glimpse of a certain someone, hope surging through him, and he pushes forward through the swarm of people.

"Dr. Gilmore..." he breathed, happy to see him. 

"Cassidy. Where's my wife?"

Gilmore beams at him - a tired grin yet glad nonetheless. Adrian felt himself go still as he went on to say, "She's stable now. Comatose but stable."

Something surges within him then - relief and gratitude, of course, but it's something more vigorous, more vibrant. It was like it was only then that he realized he felt dead this whole time. Right now, though, he felt alive again. 

"Can we see her?"

"Of course. Follow me."

Gilmore gestures, moving through the crowd. He leads them up the hospital - up and up, and as they move, there are less and less people. Moments later, they come across an empty hall.

Adrian draws his coat tighter around himself, and together with Edward, he follows Gilmore to a door. 

"She's in there..." he told them.

"So are the others. That Asher, Ma'am Irish, Sir Charles. She is recuperating well enough. I'm thinking she'll be comatosed for two weeks at least. We're just hoping she'll wake up in time for New Year's. It wouldn't do to start the year without her."

Adrian let out a breath, nodding gratefully. Gilmore returned his nod before taking his leave.

He stands in front of the nondescript wooden door for a moment, his hand brushing over the handle - his hesitance obvious in his stature. Edward notices this and places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Go in, Adrian..." he urged softly.

"Cassidy will want you to be there. I'll just wait for you here."

Edward smiles down at him - a brotherly smile. It is the implied normalcy of this smile that strikes Adrian the question, 'What part of my life has ever been normal?'

None of it.

Whatever thought he has in his mind is temporarily whisked away when Edward opens the door for him.

Beyond him is a vast expanse of space. Hospital rooms have gotten bigger over the years, it seems. In this one, there is a leather lounge set at the corner.

Bryan is seated on it, his back hunched. On his shoulder, Aira is resting - sleeping soundly, her face slightly disturbed but overall peaceful. Charles and Anthony sit by their side in silence.

Meanwhile, Irish stands in the corner, talking with Asher. He has shred his overcoat and is standing merely in his shirt and pants, exposed somehow. Adrian briefly realizes that she is trying to console him.

The hospital bed is situated in front of the lounge set - right in the middle of the room. The only light source flicked on is the one above it, so the white lights shine harshly on his unconscious wife's pale skin, highlighting the IV drip attached to her hand, and reflecting the oxygen mask endowed on her face.

'Too much smoke inhalation?' Adrian wondered grimly.

He takes a step forward.

Everyone in the room observes him in silence. He wonders how they think he will react. So far, he keeps his composure well enough, his shoes brushing smoothly against the tiles, yet suddenly, he feels so cold. He stops by the edge of the bed - by Cassidy's feet.

Adrian looks to Charles and Bryan. Then, to Asher. 

Breathes in. Prepares.

"How is she?" Adrian asked - his voice was so soft and so fragile that it sounded as if he was the one whose body was breaking.

"Comatose, they said..." Bryan said gruffly.

"But responsive. They said she'll pull through."

"And she will..." Charles added, firm but quiet.

"They said she'll be unconscious for a while, but she can respond to stimuli. Nothing we've tried has gotten her to respond, though."

"Which is why we've been waiting for you..." Asher chimed in, looking up at him - some form of desperation in his eyes.

"I don't normally believe in those soap opera bullshit, but if there's one thing I believe in right now, it's that you can confirm that for us."

"H-Huh? Why me?"

Adrian may have asked that.

But he should already know the answer - he knows he should. Still, a part of him fears that nothing in Cassidy will recognize him now just like two years ago when she lost her memories, for the thoughts and the intents swimming around in his head.

But he knows.

He'll still do anything.

It's alright if she forgets again as long as she's alive.

"That's because..." Asher continued, and this surprised Adrian a great deal.

"She loves you."

The statement is stark - a borrowed confession, like a father's consent.

He gulps, wondering why he's so unsure. His hands are shaking, his limbs trembling. He takes a step closer to her, brushing his fingers against hers.

Adrian can hear the collective intake of breaths - this is a precious, delicate moment.

"Cassidy," he called, his voice low and shaky.

Her fingers are cold - cold like she's already gone, and with everything in him, he wishes her fingers can be warm again. He tries calling her name once more, louder this time. His fingers curl around hers - stronger now.

"You're so reckless..." Adrian began to say, gaining momentum.

"You rushed in there without warning when you didn't have to - all because of what they've done. You always think you know what's best, but when you did what you did, I don't think you were thinking at all."

Everyone there must think him strange, saying something like this. But he just wants her to move - to give him a sign, and there's only one way to know for sure.

"You're so bold sometimes, and you rush into things. You're headstrong. You're stubborn..." he muttered, grinning weakly, and maybe, there were tears in his eyes, now, threatening to fall.

"And because you're so stubborn, you looked at me - with all my flaws, scars and sins. You told me you'd stay. You said you'd stay, Cassidy."

His voice cracked. He barely registers his tears dripping down his face and onto her lifeless hands.

"You told me you weren't going anywhere anymore. I want you to prove it to me now. I want you to show me you meant it because I know you did. Please, you have to show me."

His front crumbles then, his walls crashing down. He feels like he's merely a boy at that moment, pleading for her life.

"Show me you'll stay because you love me..." Adrian sobbed with his head hung low, his soul exposed, his heart finally allowed to grieve - to beg with everything he's got.

"But more importantly, because I love you, too."

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