She opened her eyes, which were red-rimmed from crying. She glanced down at her clothing. She was grateful her mother had sent someone to her apartment for a change of clothes. Her favorite yellow maternity dress was ruined, stained bright red with Sly's blood.
Emily gripped the sink tightly as the memory of Sly bashing his fist into the sliding glass door assaulted her. I don't want to remember, she thought. Not if it meant another crashing wave of guilt. This is your fault, Emily. You've got to stay strong to fix it.
She brushed her hair back with her left hand before leaving the restroom.
Alan and Monica, both looking very tired and concerned, walked over to her. "There you are. Sly's doctor wants to discuss his condition," Monica said. Her parents led the way and Emily followed slowly behind them, shuffling in the house slippers she had been wearing hours before, shoes forgotten in the rush to get to the hospital. Now she wore them because her swollen, aching feet refused to fit into anything else.
A young man wearing a long white lab coat with blue scrubs underneath greeted them. "Emily, this is Doctor Underhill, Sly's surgeon," Alan said.
The doctor extended his hand. "Mrs. Eckert," he said.
"How is Sly?" she asked.
"He's resting and should be moved from recovery to a room shortly. He's done some damage to his right arm, particularly his hand and wrist. I was able to repair an artery that was cut, but I'm afraid he's severed two of the tendons in his hand. I was able to reattach them, but it will be a long recovery period, and he may never regain the full use of those fingers again," the doctor said soberly. "Also, he had some blood loss, so we transfused him with several units."
Emily nodded, even though it was hard to process all of the information.
"I also removed several shards of glass from the palm of his hand. They were driven in quite deeply."
Emily winced as she pictured Sly gripping the glass, squeezing it into his flesh.
The doctor looked at Emily sympathetically. "I'll let your parents explain the rest. I'll be back to check on Sly later."
Emily turned to her parents. "Why don't we sit down, honey?" Monica suggested.
Emily wearily sat on one of the beige couches in the small waiting area. Alan and Monica sat protectively on either side of her. Alan took Emily's hand. "Em, after tonight, frankly, we're worried about you."
Emily turned to her father. "Worried about me? What about Sly?"
"We're worried about both of you," Monica said. "Emily, we're both very concerned about Sly's mental state. This was no accident."
Emily sniffled, resisting the impulse to insist everything was fine. No more lies, she thought. "You're right," she admitted, her shoulders slumping.
"It's not just the actual injury, Emily. When he regained consciousness in the ER…" Alan began.
Emily held up her hands. "I know, Dad. I heard everything," she said, flashing back to earlier in the evening.
*-*-*-*-*-*
Emily trailed the stretcher through the General Hospital ER as fast as she possibly could. The paramedics were shouting instructions to various scurrying doctors and nurses. The stretcher came to a stop in one room with two areas for treating patients. Emily watched helplessly as one of the nurses pulled the curtain closed, shutting her out.
"Emily?" Her father's voice cut through her haze of torment and confusion.
"Dad!" she exclaimed, and went to hug him, but decided against it, considering all of the blood on her clothes.
Alan stared at her, horrified. "Emily, what happened?"
Emily pointed to the curtained area. "It's Sly, he… he had an accident. Go in there and make sure he's going to be ok."
Alan touched her on the shoulder, shaken. "But you're not hurt?"
Emily nodded, the tears spilling from her frightened brown eyes. "I'm fine. Go help Sly."
Alan left Emily and entered the area.
Emily paced back and forth for a few minutes, straining to hear the frantic conversation of the medical professionals. Then she heard a nurse say, "The patient is regaining consciousness."
Her heart leapt in her chest at the news, and she was rewarded by hearing a slight groan from Sly.
She heard her father ask gently, "How are you feeling, Sly?"
The next few moments were a jumble of confused voices and shouting.
"Oh my God, oh my God," Sly wailed.
"Are you in pain?" Emily heard Alan question.
"Stay away from me!" Sly shouted suddenly.
What is going on? Emily thought worriedly.
"Calm down, Sly. You've lost a lot of blood, and you're going to have to have surgery," another doctor said.
"No, just let me go!" Emily's heart pounded in her chest. Don't fight them, Sly, she thought.
"I said let me go!" he shouted all the louder. A metallic crash followed.
"Nurse, prepare a sedative," Alan called.
Emily wanted to run in, make them stop hurting Sly, but she knew they weren't doing that. You're the one who hurt him, she thought ruefully.
Things eventually quieted down, but Emily could hear Sly sobbing. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"
A few moments later, the curtain was pulled back, and Sly was quickly wheeled away towards the elevator. Alan and Emily were left staring after him.
*-*-*-*-*-*
"Then you know why we're so worried, Em," Monica said, taking her daughter's hand. "What really happened?"
A nurse approached. "We've put Mr. Eckert in a private room."
Emily rose to her feet. "Which one?"
"734."
Emily started to walk down the hall as quickly as she could.
Monica started to go after her, but Alan gently touched her shoulder. "Let's give her a few minutes."
Monica turned around and buried herself in his arms. "Alan, what is going on?"
"I'm not sure, Monica, but I have my suspicions," he sighed, holding her tightly.
*-*-*-*-*-*
Emily stood a respectful distance while a nurse finished settling Sly in his bed. He looked to Emily when he was done. "He'll be asleep for a while, but the anesthesia should completely wear off soon."
Emily nodded as the nurse left. She moved tentatively over to Sly.
She thought he looked almost peaceful in the hospital bed. His blonde hair was tousled against the pillow. His face was absolutely motionless, and still pale from the blood loss, accentuating the very dark circles under his eyes. Her gaze drifted to his right arm. It was bandaged to nearly his elbow, and his hand and wrist were in a splint.
Emily sighed heavily as she sat in a chair to Sly's left. She reached out to his good hand, but she stopped, and eventually pulled back. She longed to touch him, but it didn't seem right. At that moment, nothing seemed right.
*-*-*-*-*-*
Just then, a whole troupe of Quartermaines came down the hospital hallway. Alan and Monica rose to greet them. "Were you able to get a hold of Jenny and Paul?" Monica asked.
Ned shook his head. "There's no answer. I suppose they're away."
"How is Emily?" AJ asked as he approached.
"Understandably shaken," Alan replied.
Edward and Lila brought up the rear. "And I'm afraid I have only more bad news," Edward said as they joined the group.
Alan moved towards Lila. "Mother, what are you doing here at this hour?"
Lila scoffed. "This is a family emergency, Alan. Did you really think I would be able to sleep when my grandchildren are in trouble?"
Edward cleared his throat. "I really think you should pay attention to me. You're going to want to hear this."
Monica sighed. "I'm not sure I want any more bad news, Edward."
"I think it may help make some sense of the recent events."
The rest of the family turned to face him.
Edward began to pace a bit. "I received a most distressing phone call tonight from one of my computer warehouse supervisors, James Newhouse."
"The ELQ warehouse where Sly works?" Ned questioned.
"Worked. Sylvester was fired today," Edward said grimly.
Monica gasped. "Why?"
Edward's expression was stony. "Apparently, he's been late to work the past few days. He was hostile when confronted with the facts, and, in the supervisor's words, eventually 'exploded.' He shoved Mr. Newhouse against the wall and started screaming at him, something to the effect of 'I'm through taking orders from you.' Several other employees had to pull Sylvester off of him. He was fired on the spot, but I've convinced Mr. Newhouse not to press assault charges."
Alan shook his head. "It just gets worse and worse."
"It might explain why he was saying 'I'm sorry' before," Monica sighed.
"But did it upset him enough to put his hand through a sliding glass door? I'm not sure," Alan said seriously.
"No, this is your fault, for letting Emily marry into the Spencer family!" Edward ranted.
"He's an Eckert," Ned began.
"Eckert, Spencer, the same flawed gene pool," Edward said, dismissing Ned's comment with a wave of his hand.
"Emily is old enough to make her own decisions, obviously. She made up her own mind to marry Sly!" Monica insisted.
As an argument ensued, Lila started to move away. AJ followed. "Where are you going, Grandmother?" he asked.
"I'd like to find Emily," she said as she wheeled down the hallway.
"Ok," AJ said, and he walked beside her, looking at the patient names near the entrance to each room. Eventually, they found it. "Sylvester Eckert, 734." He peeked in the window and saw Emily sitting by a sleeping Sly's bedside. "She's inside," he said to Lila.
"Would you mind opening the door for me, dear?" Lila asked.
AJ nodded and gently rapped on the door before opening it to let Lila in. He didn't follow, wanting to give Emily some space.
Emily looked up and saw her grandmother entering the room. "Grandmother!" she called softly.
"Don't get up, dear. I know it's hard in your condition." Lila moved closer to her grandchild. She looked to Sly. "He's not well," she sighed.
"No, he's not," Emily whispered. "Oh Grandmother, this is all my fault," she said, tearing up again.
"How, Emily? What happened?" Lila asked gently, her heart so full of love and concern for not only Emily, but Sly as well.
Emily shook her head. "We had a really bad argument. We said some really horrible things. No, I said some really horrible things," she admitted, looking at the floor.
"And that caused the accident?" Lila asked, wanting to understand.
"This was no accident, Grandmother," Emily said softly. "I said something terrible, maybe unforgivable, and Sly lost control." She paused for a moment. "He kind of pulled his hand back, and I thought maybe he was getting ready to hit me. I think Sly thought that, too, and it destroyed him. I think he put his hand through the glass to punish himself," Emily said, the tears finally slipping down her cheeks.
"Oh Emily, this is a very serious situation," Lila said, trying to make sense out of this new information.
Emily finally looked at her grandmother. "No, please don't let this ruin your opinion of him. Sly would never hurt me. This proves it." She looked over to her husband, and the bandage on his arm. "He would rather hurt himself first, and that's what really scares me. He had very little self-esteem to begin with, but now I'm afraid it's all gone. I did this to him, and I don't think we'll ever recover from this."
Lila thought for a moment before speaking. "I think you will," she said finally.
"Why are you so sure, Grandmother?" Emily said, not really believing it.
"You're in an awfully difficult and stressful situation, and anyone would be having a difficult time of it, no matter how good a show you may put on for your family," she said knowingly, and Emily blushed, knowing that she had been trying to make her family think that she and Sly had the perfect marriage.
"But we fight so often," Emily acknowledged.
"All couples fight, dear. My, your Grandfather and I have certainly had our rows over the years. There were many times when I was sure that our marriage would not survive."
"But how did it?" Emily said, desperate for her grandmother's wisdom.
"Because in the end, we loved each other. We both believed that our marriage was something worth saving, and that we needed to work on it together. Love is stronger than pride," Lila said, her eyes shining with conviction.
"I hope you're right, Grandmother," Emily said, truly letting the words sink in.
Lila smiled. "You will get through this Emily, you and Sly. Believe in the power of your love. Find shelter in it. Let it lead you home."
*-*-*-*-*-*
The first thing he noticed was the buzzing. Was there a fly or some other insect in the room? Then the light started to filter in, eliminating the inky darkness.
Emily was grateful when Sly's eyelids finally started to flutter open. She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there, waiting for him to awaken. Now she was nervous- she just didn't know what to expect, how he was going to react.
Sly blinked several times, adjusting his eyes to the semi-bright hospital room. Then it all came back to him- what he had done to Emily and himself, awakening in the ER, fighting with the doctors, knocking over the metal tray of instruments. Even after all of that, you're still alive, he thought scornfully. Just then, his vision focused, and he saw Emily sitting at his bedside.
"Hey there," she said softly, neutrally. "How are you feeling?"
Sly observed Emily's appearance. She was in a different outfit than what she was wearing before. Her hair hung limply past her shoulders. Her eyes were red, and had dark circles underneath. She smiled, but Sly could tell she was in a tremendous amount of pain. Pain that I caused. You were going to hit her! Sly's heart pounded in his chest as panic took over. I can't hurt her again. Instinctively, he tried to get as far away as he could, but he failed to realize he was hooked up to several pieces of medical equipment. As he moved, he jostled his right arm, and a sharp pain radiated through his whole body.
Emily saw him trying to shift away, and saw him wince after he moved his arm. "You shouldn't try to move. You've had surgery on your arm, and you did a lot of damage," she said gently, trying not to overwhelm him.
Sly barely heard her. Calm down, just calm down, he thought. Sly lay still until the pain passed. You're not going anywhere. Think back. He carefully avoided Emily's gaze. You won't hurt her if you could just figure out what happened to cause this. Sly thought back to earlier in the day. The argument. You were shouting at her, fighting with her. If you don't fight with her, you'll be ok. Then it seemed another part of his mind offered a counterpoint. But how do you know that when you start talking to her, you won't have another argument? How do you know? How do you know?
Emily observed Sly, who was staring off into space. He's tired, I won't push him, she thought. She was just grateful that he was alive. "I should get the doctor, and let him know that you're awake."
Sly didn't hear her; instead, he was focused on his chaotic internal thoughts. You won't have an argument if you don't talk. You can't argue with someone who doesn't say anything. Just don't talk. He looked over to Emily. This is how you'll keep her safe. Sly decided to close his eyes. Just try to go back to sleep, he told himself.
Emily smiled sadly when Sly closed his eyes again. He's going back to sleep, she thought. That's good, he needs it. She slowly rose from her chair and walked to the door. She opened it, but turned back to look at her husband. "Find shelter in our love, Sly," she whispered. She rubbed her stomach. "I know we're all going to need it."