Seal Team Fanfic

Trent- Not Her *A*

*Trigger Warning: Near Death experience*

It should have been him, he should be the one in that hospital bed. It wasn't supposed to be her, but there she lay bruised and battered. They wouldn't let him in her room just yet so he was stuck looking at her from the window in her room's door.

All the gashes that had to be stitched closed, all the burns that had been bandaged. It should have been him in that explosion, it should have been anyone just not her. Fear and anger welled up inside him, fed by the acidic bile bubbling in his stomach that made him want to throw up having to see her like that. This was the very reason why relationships within a team were supposed to be forbidden.

When the staff finally let him in her room the smell of the overly sanitized and sterileness of the hospital stung his nose. Bright overhead lights and yet the appearance of eerie shadows cast darkness around the room. It was symbolism at its finest as if some unknown was showing all that could see that see that she was walking the fine line between light and dark, alive and dead.

Dulcid tones of beeps and chirps from the machines hooked up beside her bed. The slow drip of an IV sent a stab of pain through his heart with each drip, drip, drip. He'd sat in a chair beside her bed for days refusing to move. Trent sat so long he lost feeling in his legs forcing him to pace back and forth at the foot of her bed to get the blood flowing through his limbs again.

Trent had never gone this long without hearing her voice, the sound of her laughter at his stupid jokes. Eighteen days without seeing those brilliant eyes looking up at him in adoration. Eighteen without waking up with her curled on his chest being greeted with her raspy 'mornin' baby'.

He loved it when she called him baby, babe, and hotness. All those ridiculous lovey dovie pet names that held him enthralled with her. Her love was intoxicating, addictive, often leaving him drunk on the very thought of her choosing him of all people to be with.

But right now she looked too pale, so fragile and delicate in that bed, a stark difference than usual. He didn't care for it, didn't like it, hated how broken she appeared. Tubes down her throat and up her nose. A needle in her arm, pins in her leg that was steadied in a hanging brace. It never should have happened to her.

Trent was already scarred, marked by war. One more scar, one more mark, or a broken and mangled limb wouldn't have mattered for himself, but she didn't deserve that. He knew it was a part of the job, she signed up for this life, this job. Knew the possibilities of being a SEAL. She worked for it, fought for it, proved that she was the best of the best and could hang, but he never once, ever, thought she'd be the one riding that thin line in a hospital bed because of an OP gone wrong.

He desperately needed her to wake up, to tell you how much he loved her but doctors felt her best option of survival was a medically induced coma. They reasoned her body needed that extra help, that fighting chance to heal from the trauma suffered. They couldn't even reassure him that she'd even wake up. The doctors kept telling him it was all up to her now and whatever deity she worshipped.

Trent had lost his faith many years ago but that first night she was in the hospital he prayed. He fell to his knees and he begged, pleaded that she live. Prayed so long that his knees had worn indents in the waiting room's carpeted floor. He wished, hoped, prayed, crossed his fingers, and all he could think of that she'd come back to him, that everything would be okay again.