Three months. . .
It had been three months since that dreadful day. Three months since he had heard her voice. Three months since he had seen those whirlpool of her emerald green orbs. Three months since she had graced him with that heart–stopping smile of hers. Three months of merciless torture for Jordan and Emerald's family.
And through the seemingly endless course of these harrowing months, it had made him wonder if he would ever get to hear her sweet voice call his name ever again, if he would ever look into those bottomless orbs of hers and see his image reflected in them ever again, if he would ever feel her warm touch against his ever again.
The war had been won, the obstacles had been passed over, but the casualties and damage done was irreversible and too great to bear, especially for Jordan, who was ridden by overwhelming guilt. Perhaps if he had kept his unwarranted anger at bay that night at the club, they would have finished off Carl and wouldn't have had to deal with the crazy blonde at all, but now, it was too late for rectification. The damage had already been done and his Gem had been the one to bear the brunt of it all.
Standing immobile before the entrance of Emerald's ward with his left hand clutching the metal doorknob, Jordan couldn't bring himself to open the white sliding door, choosing instead to stare into the room through the transparent glass occupying a quota of the door. His eyes remained trained on her figure lying in the middle of the hospital bed.
The curtains in the room were let down, preventing sunlight, but from the little lighting in the room, Jordan could see her frail body looking small in the hospital gown, her face unbelievably pale, yet what tore him apart the most was the sight of the endotracheal tube in her nose.
Sometime during the first two months of her coma, Emerald had flatlined twice, and both times, Jordan had felt his soul abandon him at the reality of his Gem narrowly escaping death. It had only caused the guilt to eat deeper into him, until all he thought about was her—Emerald Pearce—his Gemstone, neglecting his own well-being in the process. The result of that, was the constant pain that shot through his right shoulder whenever he exerted it or attempted to lift his right arm above his head.
“Jordan.”
“Jordan?”
Too immersed in his thoughts, Jordan didn't hear someone call his name, until said person placed their hand over his resting on the doorknob. “Son?” The touch jolted Jordan, snapping him out of his thoughts as he whipped his head to the side to notice Maggie, Emerald's mom, looking at him with a sad smile. Luca stood behind her with an occupied baby carrier fastened to his torso, the same sadness in his eyes as he tenderly patted little Emmett's bum.
“What are you doing outside, dear?” Maggie asked softly, removing her hand from his so she could rub his lower back instead. “Don't you want to go in?” At her words, Jordan turned back to stare into the room, taking a moment to nod his head shakily.
Maggie gave him a reassuring pat on the back, well aware of how he was feeling. Although Emerald was her daughter, and the entire family was hurting badly, it seemed that this lover of her daughter's was hurting much worse. She had been observing Jordan since.
The night of the incident when Emerald had been transferred to the hospital they were currently at, the same one Maggie had birthed baby Emmett, the mother had broken down completely on seeing the condition of her daughter, even going as far as fainting at the gory sight of Jordan covered in grime and blood that she hadn't been certain if it was his or her daughter's.
That night, the man had been the epitome of grief, restlessness and guilt, and weeping Maggie, alongside everyone else, had watched as he'd punched the hospital wall repeatedly, not stopping even when his blood stained the white surface. Thankfully, Keelan had stepped in that day, and everyone had watched Jordan burst into tears without a care for the looks he garnered.
Maggie remembered holding him in her arms, comforting him, muttering words of reassurance when it was her own daughter fighting for her life. She recollected how he had pleaded and apologized profusely to her, blaming himself for not protecting Emerald, for not putting his own life on the line to ensure her absolute safety.
Maggie's motherly heart ached even at the memory of it all. She knew Jordan had done his very best to protect her daughter, and knowing how much love these two seemed to have for each other, she wasn't at all surprised to know that Emerald had taken bullets for Jordan. Thus, neither she nor Luca could find it in their hearts to hate the poor man, not harbouring even an iota of dislike toward him.
Jordan finally conceded, and he took languid steps into the room. Luca walked forward to stand beside his wife, wrapping his arm around her dainty shoulders as they both peered into the room, deciding to give the two some alone time. Silent tears trailed down Maggie's face, her heart hurting for the broken lover and her daughter who was battling for her life.
As she watched Jordan lean toward a comatose Emerald to press a kiss on her forehead, Maggie could only hope and pray that her daughter wouldn't stop fighting, if not for her sake or for Luca's, if not for Armani whose usual gaiety had been shadowed by guilt for not protecting her older sister, if not for her best friends—Logan and Oriana, and if not for little Emmett who would very much love to know and play with his eldest sister, if not for any of their sakes, then for the man sitting beside her hospital bed.
The man whose heart bled even more with each passing day she spent unconscious. The man whose soul was further sinking with each faint and slow beep of the heart monitor. For the man who loved her more than his own being.
Maggie prayed and hoped that these two would heal together, heal each other.
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Keelan sat in a chair off to the corner of the examination room, his eyes trained on his friend who sat completely still on the little bed, having his hands once again, checked by a male nurse who looked seconds away from shitting himself.
After all, his friend was the J.K.; everyone knew him and the male nurse's cowering figure wasn't anything new to them, but right now, his friend didn't seem to care about it—scratch that—he didn't seem to care about anything as he stared off into space. He didn't blink, didn't make a twitch, not even when the nurse clumsily spilled antiseptic on his thigh, face as white as paper as he stuttered endless apologies, evidently sweating bullets.
Out of pity, Keelan dismissed the poor boy, calling for another nurse before looking back at his friend's unblinking, immobile state.
Another month and a half had gone by, Emerald had coded once again, hopes were hanging on very thin threads, and lastly, Jordan had only a smidgen of sanity left. Keelan thought back to the scene that had occurred only over half an hour ago.
Jordan had wordlessly got up from his seat in the hallway across Emerald's room, where he had chosen to stay after refusing to enter her room. He had beelined for the restroom down the hall, but when he had stayed there longer than necessary, Keelan had grown slightly worried, so he went to check up on him only to meet his best friend's bare fists embedded in the huge, now shattered, mirror hanging on one wall of the restroom.
Shocked since this was quickly becoming a regular thing with him since the incident, Keelan had embraced his best friend, who was now a shell of his former self, his chest tight as Jordan wept against him while muttering the words, “she's dying. She's leaving me behind,” repeatedly like a broken record. Fast forward to a few minutes later, and another male nurse, who looked older and more in control of his emotions, walked into the room, acknowledging both men with curt nods before focusing on the task at hand.
Silence hung heavily in the room with only the exception of soft clinks from the tweezers the nurse used in plucking glass shards from Jordan's bloody knuckles. The man continued his work and moments after, he was done, both of Jordan's hands encased in bandages.
The nurse turned to face Keelan. “He's re-fractured his phalanxes from the hit, so I had to use little casts to hold the fingers upright while the bones heal. He'll have to come in every week to have them checked until they're done healing. Also, I'd advise he doesn't exert them or try to form a fist anytime soon.”
Keelan nodded, shooting Jordan's left arm, which was in a cast of its own, a look. He said to the nurse, “Do you think perhaps you could help us check out his arm to see if it's healing properly?”
The male nurse nodded, and he had just taken a step toward Jordan when a loud voice echoed through the halls, bouncing off the walls. “Jordan!” Rapid footsteps approached and the door was suddenly swung open, the force making it hit the wall and jolting everyone, even Jordan, as a panting Carol rushed into the room, eyes wide, cheeks flushed and wet with tears but a contrasting face-splitting grin on her face.
“J! She's awake!” she yelled, not caring about her brother's injury as she held his shoulders and shook him. “Emerald is finally awake!” Carol might as well be a town crier.
Shock painted Jordan's face as he stared into Carol's eyes, his own eyes wide and glistening with tears, and his mouth agape. “W-what?” he stuttered incoherently, still in shock, however, Carol was happy to re-inform him.
“Emerald is awake and she is asking for you! What are you still wai—” Jordan didn't stay to hear the end of his sister's sentence as he hastily stumbled out the door. He need not be told thrice that his Gem had lived, that she had fought and won for her, for him, for them.
For the first time in months, Jordan's soul returned to him; he was revitalized, and to his Gem, he ran.
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