~~~~~*~~~~~

Clare sat on the grass in the small memorial garden at the side of the hospital building with Lynn by her side. They were both holding polystyrene cups of steaming hot coffee from the hospital cafeteria, but neither of them had yet taken a sip. Clare let out a deep sigh and glanced up at the bright blue sky above her head.

"Why is it that such terrible things happen on such beautiful days?" She asked Lynn as she closed her eyes and let the sun's rays warm her face. It was a small degree of comfort to her and she immediately felt bad for allowing herself to enjoy it. After all, it seemed wrong to be soaking up the sunshine when Libby was trapped—literally—indoors. "You know, if Lib were awake right now she'd be complaining about being cooped up inside on a lovely day like this."

Lynn looked at Clare's strained face and offered her a sympathetic smile. "She loves to be outside," she agreed.

Clare glanced down at the grass by her legs as tears began to form in her eyes, and she pulled a few blades of grass free from the soil. Avoiding Lynn's eyes, she asked the question that she hadn't yet dare utter aloud. "She's going to get through this, isn't she?"

Lynn silently reached out to pull Clare into an embrace. The gesture caused the tears that had been threatening to spill to flow down Clare's cheeks, and she soon found herself sobbing against the older woman's shoulder.

"It's okay, honey," Lynn said soothingly as she stroked Clare's hair with her hand. "Just let it all out."

"I'm supposed to be the strong one," Clare argued with a sob. "I'm the one who's supposed to hold it all together."

"And who's gonna be strong for you, Clare?" Lynn asked her as she held her tighter. "Sometimes it's okay to let go. It's better for you than trying to keep it all in."

"But my best friend is in a coma in the hospital! I shouldn't be thinking about me. She's in there and there's nothing that I can do about it. I didn't even know she'd been in an accident! She must have been so scared..."

Lynn pulled Clare closer and said nothing. She simply held Clare close and allowed her to cry it all out. She knew that there was nothing that she could say to make things any better; they'd all simply have to wait and see and hope that Libby would pull through.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Flashes of light chased each other silently across the screen on the ECG monitor beside Libby's bed. The peaks and troughs of their spiky green wakes seemed to become less frequent as Clare watched them, but there was no cause for panic.

In the past twenty–four hours she'd learned that changes in the pace of the monitor were quite normal. For her, however, the only change that she wished to see was for her friend to regain consciousness.

You got wires, goin' in / You got wires, comin' out of your skin / You got tears, makin' tracks / I got tears that are scared of the facts / Runnin' down corridors through automatic doors / Got to get to you, got to see this through / I see hope is here, in a plastic box / I've seen Christmas lights, reflect in your eyes..

At regular intervals the nurses arrived to do routine checks and note down the progress of the monitors. They were silent as they worked, and Clare could detect nothing in their faces that gave her confidence that Libby was doing okay.

After their arrival at the hospital, Clare had been asked to fill in a lot of paperwork on behalf of Libby as her next of kin. Fortunately, Libby's parents had been adamant that she get herself health insurance if she moved to the States, so Clare had no need to worry about how Libby's treatment would be paid for.

The hospital had been very kind and sympathetic to all of them, but whilst out of the earshot of the others, Clare had been politely asked to note the hospital's rules on the number of visitors in a patient’s room at one time. She'd had the uncomfortable task of having to tell her friends that from now on, only two visitors at a time would be welcomed into the ICU during set visiting hours.

Needless to say, Justin hadn't taken the news well; and his selfish attitude had rubbed Clare up the wrong way. Consequently, they'd had a big falling out. Only JC interrupting and telling them that Libby's care and well–being was the priority—and not their own selfish desires to spend time with her—had put a stop to their bickering. Once they'd calmed down, they'd managed to fairly divide the visiting times between them all so that each person got to spend time one–on–one with Libby without anyone feeling left out or hard done by.

Lynn had been an absolute rock and had somehow managed to convince Justin to head home and get some rest. How she'd done it, Clare had had no idea, but she'd been grateful for someone having being able to get through to him. Since their argument she'd found it a lot harder to talk to him without getting irate and, consequently, she'd been somewhat avoiding him since then. It wasn't that she wanted to be angry with him; it was just that with their already heightened nerves they just couldn't seem to be in the same room without winding each other up the wrong way.

You got wires, goin' in / You got wires, comin' out of your skin / There's dry blood on your wrist / Your dry blood on my fingertip / Runnin' down corridors through automatic doors / Got to get to you, got to see this through / First night of your life, curled up on your own / Lookin' at you now, you would never know...

Clare gazed miserably across at her friend as she sat alone during her visit the next morning. She couldn't believe that it was nearly forty–eight hours since she'd seen her friend conscious. It felt more like weeks.

She'd had a fitful night of sleep and had rushed out of the apartment early to get away from what had felt like a vacuum of silence. As she'd arrived at the hospital way too early for visiting hours, she'd sat in her car with the radio on full blast to stop her from thinking. Even now as she sat in Libby's hospital room she could hear the ringing in her ears from having listened to the music too loud in such a confined space.

Now that she was here, she found herself completely lost for words, despite feeling full to bursting with things that she wanted to say. It didn't seem right to speak to Libby as freely as she had only a few days before. She wasn't sure if she shouldn't hide her feelings and dark thoughts from her friend just in case they affected her recovery. How much could a person in a coma really hear and understand, anyway? At the same time, could she really sit there in silence and say nothing to the person that she usually told everything?

No. I can't. What good is me being here if I don't say anything?

Fighting the stifling silence in the room, Clare decided to simply give voice to the words that were pressing deeply on her heart.

"Why'd you go climbing, Lib?" She asked in barely more than a whisper. "I miss you." She paused and regarded Libby's face, still hoping for a reaction. Of course, she received none.

Despite the fact that she knew better, Clare still expected her friend to turn to her and speak, or laugh, or even just smirk as though the whole thing had been a big joke. Clare would scream blue murder at her, of course, but she'd still hold her tight in her arms and cry. It'd be the worst practical joke that Libby would ever have pulled, and yet Clare wished that it was the case.

"It's funny..." Clare continued as she smiled weakly, "...I've never actually told you how much you mean to me, have I? I guess we never really needed to say the words; we both just knew." She glanced at Libby's twisted and bruised arm and felt a lump rise in her throat.

"Seeing you like this had made me think about all the things we've done, and all the things we were planning to do. There was so much wasted time, wasn't there, Lib." Clare took a deep breath and fought back a sob. "Why didn't I take more time and notice things when I had the chance? If I'd have known... If someone had told me that the next time I'd see you would be like this... I'd have never let you leave, Libby."

Clare reached out and tentatively slipped the fingers of one hand into Libby's palm. She felt warm and normal to the touch, but her hand remained limp even when Clare wrapped her fingers around it.

"My heart's breaking—" Clare whispered with a trembling voice as she looked back at Libby's face once more. "—thinking about all the times you put your arms around me and said I was your best friend. You'd always find a way of secretly smiling at me when you found something funny that you knew I would laugh at too; or when I was upset, and you knew that you could make me smile. You always bought a smile to my face, Lib."

Clare sniffed and wiped her free hand across the bottom of her nose. "I need you to do something for me though, Lib. I've never asked you to do anything for me before, but I need you to open your eyes now. You can't imagine how terrible we all feel without you. We need you back so open your eyes. Please... please..."

She stared at her friend's face for a full five minutes; willing, praying and begging Libby to open her eyes. When after all that time she still didn't receive a reaction, Clare turned her eyes to the ceiling and squeezed them shut sending more tears running down her cheeks.

Please, God. Please, please, please don't take her from me. I love her too much, and she's not ready; it's not her time. Please. I won't ever ask you for anything more important than this. Don't take my friend from me.

~~~~~*~~~~~
Justin walked into the hospital room dragging his feet, his usually sunny exterior completely altered. His eyes were red from the crying that he'd been doing, and he felt as though a huge pressure had been added to his shoulders.

He looked straight over at Libby's bed as he entered the room, still hoping against hope that she would miraculously be awake; but his stomach sank with disappointment when he saw her looking just as still and small as she'd been the last time he'd visited.

Noticing that Clare was holding one of her hands, Justin fought to urge to rush over and check that she hadn't inadvertently nudged one of the many tubes that were attached to Libby's hands, chest and face. He knew that it was probably ridiculously neurotic of him, but he didn't want anyone to have any contact with Libby without him being there to ensure that she wouldn't be harmed.

The first sight of her vulnerable and battered body had filled him with the ferocity of a lion to keep her safe against all odds. It didn't matter to him who he may, or may not, offend in the process; he wasn't going to let anyone hurt Libby again—ever.

He crossed the room in a few short strides and in as soft a voice as he could manage, he called Clare's name. It was only when he nudged her gently on the shoulder and she jumped at his touch that he realised that she'd been asleep.

"It's me," he said as she turned her head to look at him, clearly feeling disoriented.

"Is it that time already?" Clare asked as she glanced back over at Libby. Already she was feeling guilty that she'd fallen asleep, and even worse that Justin had been there to witness it.

"Yeah, Jamie's outside to take you home," Justin said as his own eyes wandered over to Libby's face.

Clare stood up out of the seat and offered him a weak smile. "Thanks. I'll see you later, I guess." Before leaving she leaned over Libby's body and kissed her softly on the forehead. Justin bit down hard on his tongue to stop himself from protesting. He knew that it would only make him look like a jerk, and would probably be the catalyst for another showdown between him and Clare.

"I'll see you later, Lib. Keep strong, okay?"

As tears formed in her eyes, Clare forced herself to walk away and leave Libby alone with Justin. He watched her leave the room and felt an ache develop in the pit of his stomach at how forlorn she looked. He wanted so badly to say something to comfort her, but he literally had no words. He knew that there was nothing that anyone could say to him to make him feel better, and that the same would be true for Clare.

Only Libby had the power to do that.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Once she had gone, Justin sat in Clare's vacant seat and looked solemnly across at Libby. He could barely recognise her in the still, motionless woman in front of him. He couldn't remember a time when she hadn't had a smile for him; even when he was doing everything in his power to irritate the hell out of her. She never seemed to be able to stop smiling, even when he knew that he'd gotten under her skin and she wanted to punch him. She didn't have a smile for him tonight, though.

With despair, he realised that it could be a long time—if ever—before he saw her lovely smile once again.

Where do we go from here? / This isn't where we intended to be / We had it all, you believed in me / I believed in you / Certainties disappear / What do we do for our dreams to survive? / How do we keep all our passions alive? / As we used to do?'

They had become so close in the last few months. Hell, only a few days ago he'd finally decided to admit his feelings for her. How different things might have been had his plans worked out. If only...

He could hardly believe that he'd already made it through forty–eight hours without her. It had felt more like forty–eight years. And he couldn't bare thinking about how he'd cope if she stayed in the coma for days... weeks... months.

He angrily pushed aside the thought that she might never recover. He wouldn't even allow himself to consider the possibility. She wouldn't, because she couldn't. He couldn't allow her to leave him. He needed her too much.

He pushed the thought from his head as soon as the idea of her never recovering flashed through his mind. He wouldn't allow himself to even consider the thought of her dying. She wouldn't, because she couldn't. He couldn't allow her to leave him; he needed her too much.

'Deep in my heart I'm concealing / Things that I'm longing to say / Scared to confess what I'm feeling / Frightened you'll slip away / You must love me / You must love me...

Any success that he might have in the future would be nothing to him without having Libby in his life. It didn't even matter to him if they continued balancing on the brink of a relationship for years to come; all that mattered to him in that moment was that she survive. He would never ask anything else of her again—or take another moment of their time together for granted—if she came back to him.

Why are you at my side? / How can I be any use to you now? / Give me a chance and I'll let you see how / Nothing has changed / Deep in my heart I'm concealing / Things that I'm longing to say / Scared to confess what I'm feeling / Frightened you'll slip away...

"Okay, Snipes," Justin said as he leaned forward to balance his elbows on his knees and peered intensely at her face. "You've had your fun. Please, wake up now." He sat and waited for her to open her eyes and look at him. "You always were a joker, Lib. But it ain't funny no more, open your eyes."

He glanced down at her hand as it lay flat and still against the mattress, expecting any second to see it twitch and flex as she came to.

"Come on... You've only banged your arm and legs up a little. Stop milking it, you're not really that hurt."

The clicking and whirring of the machines was the only sound as they continued to do their job of maintaining her breathing and monitoring her vitals. Justin watched her face for another long minute as the reality once again began to sink in. He was wrong. She was, in fact, very badly hurt. He placed his head in his hands and began to cry once again.

You must love me / You must love me...

~~~~~*~~~~~

As he sat in the hard chair, Justin let his imagination fill in the spaces in his head that were screaming out for Libby.

He could still picture the furious expression that she'd had on her face that night on the beach when he'd sent her flying over his shoulder into the ocean. And the way she'd screamed and play lunged at him as he'd fallen backwards onto her bed with soaking wet clothes on. Even the time she'd chased him three times around the perimeter of the Compound swimming pool after he'd threatened to reveal her guilty crush—Ricky Martin—to the rest of *NSYNC.

Her personality had changed completely from the shy, quiet young girl he'd met almost two years ago into the mouthy, bossy and vivacious young woman he'd come to love.

He had so many memories of their time together but it still didn't seem enough. A lifetime of memories with her would never be enough. Although he'd always secretly known it he was certain now; he loved her. And there was nothing that would be able to convince him otherwise. He only hoped that one day he'd get a chance to tell her.

~~~~~*~~~~~