It had been 35 hours and she still hasn't woken up. All that time, Derek hadn't left her side. He looked tired, simply because he was tired but he was too scared to leave. Dark shadows were cast over his face as he sat slouched over in his chair. It wasn't the most comfortable one - a plastic seat with metal armrests that were way too hard to offer anyone a chance to relax in it - but Tom had occupied the only sofa in the room.

The soft humming of the machines dulled his senses while the constant beeping of the monitor kept his mind alert. He hasn't slept since they arrived. Too great was the fear of not knowing what would happen next, and when it would happen. It could've been a matter of seconds or hours or days. No one knew. But still she hasn't woken up.

Derek had lost track of time. He didn't know whether it was day or night, morning or evening, light or dark outside. The room had a small window on the side but they'd kept the curtain shut. He guessed that that was what she'd have wanted. Engulfed in the darkness, her fragile body seemed less exposed to the eyes of those who came to visit her. He knew how much she hated to look weak in front of others.

Not many people knew about it; they hadn't told anyone in the cast since information and rumors would have gotten out of hand too quickly. It was easier to keep everyone in the dark to avoid unnecessary questions and risks of leaks to the public. Bombshell has had enough bad headlines. When they'd arrived, he had texted Eileen, who told Tom, who then told Julia. She was the first one to visit, crying, asking whether there was anything she could do. Both Derek and Tom had shook their heads. Then came Eileen, who stared at the girl with a concerned look on her face, mixed with a little flash of pity in her eyes.

What a tragic waste of talent.

That had been 6 hours ago and the room had been quiet ever since. Tom and Derek didn't say a word to each other and it seemed like the air around them got heavier by the minute. Tom had just texted Julia their status. Nothing new. She still hasn't woken up. When he looked up from his phone screen, he noticed how Derek's head hung just a little lower than before and how his eyes were dangerously close to fluttering shut. Tom hadn't seen him this vulnerable in a long time.

With a sigh he put his phone away. "Derek, I'm going to get us coffee," Tom said as he stood up from his spot on the sofa. It wasn't a question since he knew he wouldn't get an answer. Derek lifted his head just enough to look at him. His eyes displayed the smallest hint of gratitude while he gave a curt nod.

Tom silently closed the door behind him and walked down the hallway. It was completely deserted, so it had been nighttime after all. There was a coffee vending machine in the next building about 15 minutes away but it would've been worth it. Their love for coffee was about the only thing that him and Derek had in common. Besides their love for Ivy of course.

Derek didn't think that it would have been possible but without Tom the room seemed even emptier and… He tried to think of the right word. Dead. Derek never had been one to beat around the bush; he described things the way they were and said exactly what he thought, which was probably why there were so few people who were able to tolerate him. Not everyone can live with the truth, especially when it's cold and brutally honest.

For a moment he paused his inner trail of thoughts so he could hear whether the monitor was still beeping. He had grown so accustomed to it that he had to concentrate to make out the sound. But there it was - he noticed with a relieved sigh - just as slow and steady as it had been the past hours.

He hadn't given up hope yet, but he was holding on by barely a thread. Things could be worse, he tried to tell himself.
She's still alive. She hasn't woken up yet, but she's still alive.

"Why did you do it?" Derek quietly muttered to himself as he ran a hand over his face. It was frustrating him how he couldn't understand her or figure out the situation. She seemed fine. Upset at times, but nothing that could have possibly led up to this. Now he wondered how much she had been hiding and not telling him.

Work had always come first in their relationship. He thought that she understood that and felt the same. He thought she understood that Karen and Rebecca needed his attention because he was their director. He didn't think that she would need it too because she was his… He still hadn't figure that part out yet. Whatever their status had been, it was hardly something that could be defined.

Derek stood up from his chair but had to pause for a minute since his legs were unwilling to move at first after being seated for so long. He slowly walked towards her bed, each step echoing through the silence of the almost empty room. She looked so small and fragile lying in that large hospital bed, surrounded by machines and tubes. His hand reached up to brush over her face; it still was as soft as he had remembered. As he grabbed her lifeless hand he wondered how he didn't notice the changes. Were there any changes? She had been more distant, yes. Keeping their relationship solely on a professional level. They'd barely talked the past few days leading up to this. Should he have seen that as a sign?

Thoughts kept swirling in Derek's head as his thumb slowly brushed over her hand. He thought he had seen it slightly twitch and move before but after staring at it for hours and hours, he was convinced that delusions had taken over reality. No one else had seen it.

He felt the slightest movement responding to his fingertips. Stop Derek, you're imagining things. He didn't dare to get his hopes up again. The first hours after she had been admitted were looking rather positive. They'd pumped the drugs out of her stomach and she seemed to have stabilized. She should have woken up after a few hours. A few turned into 10, 12, 24. A day had passed. Still nothing. 24 turned into 30, then 35. Still nothing. The doctors said her condition remained the same.

They said that all they could do now is wait and see. Tom had to hold him back then, in order for him not to punch the poor nurse delivering the news. They had been waiting. Counting the minutes to no end but nothing was happening. He'd wondered when they would turn off the machines. 48 hours? 62 hours? A week?

Derek was tired. So incredibly tired. His thoughts were barely cohesive for it seemed like his brain had shut down a long time ago. All he wanted was for her to wake up. And sleep. He wanted nothing more than that. His fogged mind could hardly process the actions of his body. He felt himself kneeling on the floor next to her bed, his hand never leaving hers. His chin was resting on the mattress as his eyes fluttered shut and he finally allowed darkness to swallow him up.