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Merry Christmas, Indeed

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Summary: After an accident, Amy spends Christmas in the hospital.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > Secret LifeDemonChildeKyraFR711,7220145310 Jan 1010 Jan 10Yes
Title: Merry Christmas, Indeed

Author: Kyra

Disclaimer: I don’t own them; if I did I wouldn’t be writing fanfiction.

Summary: After an accident, Amy spends Christmas in the hospital.

Pairings: Ricky/Amy

Spoilers: None that I can think of….

Warnings: Angst, fluff…I know, totally contradictory, right?

A/N: Okay, so this is totally late. It’s my Christmas Prezzie for IceWhisper. I started like five different fics before this one actually worked for me. So, I hope you like it, Hun, sorry it’s so late.

A/N2: Also, this is all in Amy’s POV. Enjoy.


I sigh as I slowly make my way down the hall, shifting John’s weight on my hip. I nod as I pass nurses and staff that I’ve come to know; people I really wish I didn’t know. Knowing them means I’ve been here too much, far too often. But I can’t bring myself to stay away. It’s only been a little over a week, but I’ve been here for hours on end every day, sometime by myself, sometimes with John, others with Ashley, but mostly, I’m here by myself.

As I walk down the hall, I watch as the lights blink in the windows, idly taking in the decorations put up in a vain attempt to add cheer in a place where it’s nearly impossible to do so. There’s little Santas and snowmen and reindeer stuck to the windows, a small tree in the corner of most of the waiting rooms, poinsettias on the end tables, tinsel along the ceiling. It’s all pointless, though, in my opinion, at least. It’s not like anyone really enjoys them; visitors have more important things to worry about than what kind of decorations the hospital put up, and the patients in this wing aren’t conscious to enjoy them.

As I stop outside his door, I think to myself that no one should have to so much as step foot into this building at this time of year, especially on this day. Christmas Day. A day when everyone should be at home with their loved ones, opening presents, eating huge dinners, listening to carols, and laughing. No one should have to be in a depressing hospital visiting a loved one who probably doesn’t even know they’re there.

Taking a deep breath, I make my way to my usual chair, putting the large bag I’m carrying on the floor next to it before sitting down and shifting John into my lap. Leaning over to the small portable stereo on the bedside table, one that I’d brought in about a week ago when I was told that coma patients might actually be able to hear things, I flip it on and push play, Christmas music drifting softly out of the speakers.

I smile sadly as I turn back to the bed, taking in the still figure laying there. I hate seeing him like this. It’s just not natural, seeing him lying so still, he’s usually always moving in some way, usually so full of life. He looks so pale, too pale. It makes me so mad that he’s here like this and the drunk driver that hit him walked away without a scratch; it should be the other way around, Ricky doesn’t deserve this.

“Hey,” I say softly, taking his hand in one of my own. “It’s Christmas Day. I brought John with me today, and most of his presents; I thought he could open them in here with you. He opened the stuff from my parents at home, but I brought everything from us and Ashley for him to open here.”

John squirms in my lap, his little arms reaching for the bed, and I put him up there. He immediately lays down next to Ricky, cuddling up to his side, and it’s all I can do to bite back a sob.

I reach down into the bag I’d brought with me, filled with John’s presents, and pull out a red envelope. “I brought John’s Christmas card,” I say as I slide the card out of the envelope, turning the front so the picture is facing Ricky. “I took him to see Santa Claus the other day and had his picture taken, had a card made for you with the picture on the front. I swear I almost broke down when Santa asked what he wanted for Christmas and all John said was ‘Dada.’ It broke my heart, seeing him up there on Santa’s lap, and telling him in this sad little voice that all he wanted Santa to get him for Christmas was his Daddy. So, see? You have to wake up. You don’t want John to think that Santa thinks he was bad this year, do you?”

Nothing. Not even a twitch. I sigh as I squeeze his hand momentarily before reaching down and pulling a present from the bag. “John, sweetie?” John lifts his head from Ricky’s chest and looks at me for a moment, his little fist clenching in the blankets covering Ricky. “Why don’t you open your presents for Daddy?” I ask quietly and he stares for a moment before sitting up and I set the present in my hand on the bed in front of him.

John opens the present in silence and I sigh once more; he’s barely made a sound since the accident, him telling Santa that he wanted ‘Dada’ for Christmas being the only thing he’s said since it happened. I’m really starting to worry about him; I have no idea what will happen to him if Ricky doesn’t wake up soon.

We slowly work through the bag of presents I brought, John opening each of them in silence, and me telling Ricky what each of them was. As soon as the last present is open and I’ve cleared the bed of toys and wrapping paper, John lays back down next to Ricky, burrowing into his side once more.

Sitting back down in my chair once more, I watch as John slowly drifts off to sleep, his grip on Ricky’s blankets never once loosening even the slightest bit. As I watch them sleep, tears gather in my eyes. We shouldn’t have to be here. It’s John’s first Christmas, we should be back at my house, watching as our son actually enjoys his first Christmas. This is supposed to be a magical time of year, full of laughter and cheer; instead it’s nothing but depressing, full of sadness and tears. I hate it.

I’m just drifting off myself when I see it. At first I think it’s my imagination, or a trick of the light, but then I see it again. Ricky’s hand moved, shifted a little from where I had placed it around John.

“Ricky?” I ask as I slowly stand up, trying not to get my hopes up, but unable to keep the hopefulness from my voice. Reaching out, I take Ricky’s hand in mine once more. “Ricky? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand.”

Nothing happens for a moment, but just as I’m about to tell myself I was mistaken and pull my hand back, I feel a slight pressure on my hand. My eyes dart down to my hand, then back to Ricky’s face and tears flood my eyes as I see Ricky’s eyes flutter for a moment before opening slowly.

“Ricky!” I exclaim happily, using all my self-restraint to keep from throwing myself at him.

“Amy?” His voice is weak and scratchy and I smile wetly as I nod. Tugging my hand from his, I reach over to the bedside table and grab the bottle of water I have sitting there, raising it to his lips and holding it as he drinks slowly.

“Hey,” I greet softly once he’s done and I’ve placed the water back on the table.

“Hey.” His eyes glance around the room and he looks confused for a moment before his gaze finds mine once more. “What happened?”

“You…you were hit by a drunk driver going home from my house,” I tell him. “It…it’s been a little over a week.”

“Christmas?” he asks softly, his eyes searching mine. “Did I miss Christmas?”

I shake my head, a watery smile on my lips as I reply. “No…No, you just made it. It’s Christmas Day.”

“Oh…” He looks down and sees John sleeping against him and lifts his hand to gently stroke a finger over John’s cheek, causing him to stir.

John stirs lightly in his sleep before blinking awake. He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on Ricky and a million watt smile lights up his face before he sits up and throws himself at Ricky, wrapping his arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. “Dada! You ’wake!”

“Yeah, little fella,” Ricky says softly, “I’m awake.”

John cuddles up against Ricky’s chest, arms still around his neck, and Ricky looks up at me, smiling slightly as he manages to scoot over a bit in the bed.

“I…I should probably get a doctor,” I say reluctantly.

Ricky shakes his head a bit. “It can wait a few minutes,” he says. “I want Christmas with my family first.”

I just smile and nod as I slide onto the bed next him, sighing softly as I lean my head on Ricky’s shoulder and feel him wrap his arm around me, the other still securely around john. “Merry Christmas,” I whisper softly.

Ricky presses a kiss to the side of my head and I feel him smile against my hair. “Merry Christmas,” he says.

John lifts his head from Ricky’s chest and looks at us with a smile. “May Kiss’mas,” he says, leaning in and kissing Ricky sloppily on the cheek before laying his head back down.

I smile once more as I tilt my head up to look at Ricky as he gazes down at John. He must feel my gaze on him because he looks up at me, returning my smile for a moment before slowly leaning in and pressing his lips against mine. I sigh softly as I return the kiss; it’s soft and gentle and only lasts a few seconds, but it’s enough to set the butterflies in my stomach to fluttering. I pull back and open my eyes, not even remembering closing them, and he’s smiling down at me. I smile back before leaning my head back on his shoulder and closing my eyes once more. I slowly drift off to sleep, Ricky’s arm around me and a smile on my face, feeling happy, and safe, and loved.

Merry Christmas, indeed.


Yay! I finally got it written! Seriously, I started like five different stories, in like three different fandoms, trying to get this done. I really like how this turned out, though. Even if the beginning is insanely depressing… Anyway, review, please?

~ Kyra

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