Chapter 302: Daddy, Wake Up

I was ushered to a corner of the room, watching in horror as they worked to stabilize him. The monitor flatlined for seven agonizing seconds before stuttering back to life.

The next forty-eight hours blurred together. James hovered between life and death, his body fighting against extraordinary odds. Twice more his heart stopped. Twice more they brought him back.

"He's stubborn," David told me on the third morning, dark circles under his eyes matching my own. "Death keeps trying to take him, but he's not cooperating." He squeezed my shoulder. "That's a good sign."

When David finally announced James had stabilized enough to cautiously upgrade his condition, my legs gave out. I sank to the floor of the ICU hallway and sobbed—the first tears I'd allowed myself since this nightmare began.

***

Five days later, I sat in my kitchen, mechanically preparing dinner. Theo had recovered quickly, though he jumped at sudden noises and refused to discuss what happened during his captivity. Harper's physical wounds were healing, but she remained locked in silence, communicating only through nods or head shakes. The child psychologist David recommended, Dr. Rachel Bennett, diagnosed Harper with severe post-traumatic stress disorder.

That night, tucking Theo into bed, I noticed a corner of glossy paper peeking from beneath his pillow. When I gently tugged at it, several photos of James slid out.

Theo's face flushed red. "Marcus gave them to me," he confessed, fingers twisting his bedsheet. "He said if I kept them close, I wouldn't have nightmares. Because James is protecting me."

My throat tightened. "Sweetheart, would you like to visit the hospital with me tomorrow?"

Theo's body instantly curled inward, his face contorting with fear. "Mom, I don't want more shots. The hospital reminds me of the bad man."

I stroked his hair. "No shots, I promise. You're all better now. I thought we could visit James."

"James?" His eyes brightened momentarily before darkening again. "But what if he hates me?"

"Hates you? Why would he hate you?"

Theo's lower lip trembled. "If Harper and I hadn't been taken by the bad man, James wouldn't be hurt."

"Oh, baby." I gathered him into my arms. "James loves you and Harper more than anything in this world. He'd face a thousand bad men to keep you safe." I hesitated, then decided he deserved the truth. "The doctors say James might be able to hear us even though he can't open his eyes yet. Your voice might help him get better faster."

Theo pulled back, considering this with solemn intensity. "So if I talk to him, he might wake up sooner?"

I nodded. "Would you come with me tomorrow? Maybe call him Daddy? Tell him we're all waiting for him?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he scrambled out of bed and hurried to his toy chest, digging through action figures until he found what he was looking for—an Optimus Prime transformer, carefully preserved in near-perfect condition.

"I'll bring him this," Theo announced, cradling the toy. "You said it was his favorite hero when he was little like me."

After lights-out, I paused outside his door, hearing Theo's small voice practicing in the darkness: "James... no, Daddy... I'm waiting for you to come home..."

***

The next morning, Theo clutched his backpack all the way to the hospital, knuckles white around the straps. When we entered James's room, he froze in the doorway, eyes widening at the sight of tubes and machines.

"Mom," he whispered, voice quavering, "is James going to stay asleep forever like in movies?"

I crouched to his level. "No, sweetheart. James is very strong. He's fighting hard to wake up and see you."

Theo nodded but remained rooted by the door, fingers nervously picking at his shirt hem. Each time David adjusted an IV or checked a monitor, Theo held his breath, watching with intense concentration.

"Why don't you show James what you brought him?" I suggested gently. "He can hear you, even if he can't answer."

Theo approached the bed with small, hesitant steps. He carefully extracted the transformer from his backpack.

"Um... James, this is Optimus Prime," he began softly. "He's my favorite. Mom says you liked him too when you were my age..."

Tears suddenly welled in his eyes. "I want him to protect you, like you protected me and Harper. Mom says you got hurt saving us."

He carefully placed the toy beside James's pillow. "He can turn into a truck or a robot. If you get scared, you can hold him. I... I hold him when I'm scared sometimes."

As Theo continued explaining the toy's features, his voice grew stronger, more natural. He climbed onto a chair to get closer to James's ear.

"You have to get better soon," he urged. "My legs are already healed. Mom says you'll teach me chess and take me to see real robot competitions."

He tentatively touched James's fingertips. "I know you're not a liar. You're my..." He paused, glanced at me, then whispered, "You're my daddy."

The room fell silent except for Theo repeating "daddy" with increasing confidence, as if testing how the word felt in his mouth. Tears streamed down my face as I watched this brave little boy reclaiming the father he'd been denied.

"Each time he says it, there's a slight change in his vitals," David murmured beside me. "James is responding."

Before we left, Theo insisted on kissing James's cheek. "Daddy, me and Harper are waiting for you. I'll take care of Mom and Harper until you come home."

David walked us to the elevator. "Don't lose hope," he told me. "He's in much better shape than after the yacht explosion. Back then, he was alone. Now he's got you and these amazing kids calling him 'Daddy.' He won't want to miss that for long."

***

My father's visits to the hospital grew more frequent as days passed. One afternoon, I overheard him speaking to James when he thought no one was listening.

"Listen here, you stubborn ass," Liam grumbled, "it's time to wake up. If you dare abandon my daughter and grandchildren again, I'll never forgive you. You hear me? When you wake up, you're marrying my daughter properly. You still owe her a wedding."

He turned and spotted me in the doorway, immediately switching gears. "Any updates from the doctors? What did they say?"

"His vitals are getting stronger," I replied, hiding a smile. "David thinks he'll wake up soon."

"Good, good." He cleared his throat. "Not that I was worried."

"Really? Then why do you visit every day?"

"Just bored at home," he insisted.

"Sure. That's why you practically camp out here overnight."

He huffed, heading for the door. "Call me when he wakes up."

"I thought you didn't care?"

"I don't! But I need to come yell at him for scaring us all half to death!"

After a week of little progress with Harper, Dr. Bennett suggested a new approach.

"Let's bring her to see James," she proposed.

I frowned. "But James is unconscious. Won't seeing him like that traumatize her more?"

"We've tried everything else," Dr. Bennett replied. "Sometimes a shock is what breaks through. Her trauma is tied to seeing James injured while protecting her. Seeing him healing might help her process what happened."

Reluctantly, I agreed to try.

Getting Harper to the hospital proved nearly impossible. She refused to leave the apartment, becoming hysterical when I tried to put her in the car. Dr. Bennett explained it was a linked trauma response—the car reminded her of the kidnapping.

"We'll wait until she's sleeping," I decided.