I Can’t Lie You Know It’s True, It Ain’t Home Without You

She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Dewey, even as Amber and Richie had attacked them all so ferociously. When Gale had watched him wheeled out of the hospital, covered in blood, an oxygen mask over his face, she’d sworn her heart might stop. The EMT had told him he would need surgery immediately, that they’d call with any updates. But they hadn’t. Gale couldn’t figure out if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but nonetheless, she was there now. She had refused the sedatives for her wounds, impatiently rushed the nurse who stitched her back. 

As she paced to the ICU ward, Gale felt her heart thunder in her ears. With a trembling hand, she opened the door to Dewey’s room, stopping dead in her tracks at the doorway. His abdomen was covered in bandages, dark circles and grey stubble contrasting his pale skin.

“Ms. Weathers?” 

She whipped her head around, planting a hand on her chest as the doctor gave her a sympathetic look.

“If you’d like to sit down, I’ll explain his condition.” 

His voice didn’t seem to carry any ominous tones, so she let out a breath as she sat in the chair closest to Dewey’s bed. The doctor inspected and fiddled with the machine, but it was clear his heart was beating steadily.

“He’s only just gotten out of surgery, but we were able to repair most of the damage to his internal organs. We’ll probably need to do a few more procedures to be sure, but it looks like he’ll pull through.”

Gale felt the worry in her body start to fade.

“I wouldn’t expect him to wake in the next few hours and by the time he does, we’ll probably need to take him again, but you’re more than welcome to stay.”

She thanked him, and moved her chair closer to the bed. Lightly, she brushed his hand, taking care not to touch the IV needles. And Gale simply didn’t move, comforting herself in the rise and fall of his chest, in his soft inhales and exhales. He was alive, he was okay. She realised just how much she’d missed him, just how much she cared about him. Of course it wasn’t like they’d been spiteful and mean to each other since their divorce, but everything had felt subdued, like the bond between them had faded. Now, Gale felt the familiar flutter and warmth in her chest, she felt all that care and affection towards him return in full ferocity.

Sidney came and went. Other friends, both old and new, came and went. But Dewey didn’t wake. The doctors took him in twice more for surgery. But the following day, late in the afternoon, not that it was obvious given the lack of windows in the ward, Dewey’s eyes slowly batted open. Gale felt tears form again as she watched him wake.

“Hey…” She said, softly.

He mumbled something, voice a little groggy and unable to form words but when he met her gaze, he smiled weakly.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Did you get him?”

She nodded, letting out a shaky exhale.

“Them. There were two. That Richie kid and a friend of Tara’s, Amber. But they’re dead. No more Ghostface, no more of this shit.”

“For now.” He said hoarsely.

Gale glared at him. “Don’t say that. Don’t tempt fate.”

He snickered. “Who knew Gale Weathers believed in fate?”

She couldn’t help but soften her expression, shaking her head at him. “I can’t even stay mad at you right now.”

Again, she found her hand holding his, neither of them speaking, just accepting that they were both okay, that they were alive, that they were here.

“Gale, I…” He started.

“N-no. Please. I’ve been waiting to say this since I first walked in here. I…I want us to try again. I don’t want us to be apart anymore.”

“Don’t…” Dewey took in a breath. “Don’t say it because of what happened to me. We agreed that separating was the best thing to give us what we both want-”

“But don’t you see? I love my job, I love my career, but I miss my writing, I miss my friends, I miss you and what we had, more.”

He saw her teary eyes and realised just how much she meant it.

“What are you saying, Gale?”

“I’m saying that I want you back, I want our family back. I want us to do what Sidney and Mark did, just move somewhere quiet and do the things we want. I want to write more, and not just about the bad things that have happened to us, but the good, I want to write different things too. I…I just want use to be happy.”

Dewey seemed to ponder that for a moment, before letting out a quiet chuckle and smiling.

“I’d like that.”

“You would?” The corners of her mouth upturned.

“I would.”