A.N. Ok, when I said undeterminable, I really didn't mean it to be this long. A month and a bit was considerably longer than intended, but everything kind of crept up on me at once, y'know? Anyway, a massive thanks to Anna, the anonymous reviewer for chapter nine, and to bookworm2009, Strawberry-Swirls, ilovemichaelandmia, lizziec1993, and dontforget2remember, who I really hope read the other chapters before the review…Anyway, a huge thanks to you lot for spurring me on to continue this!

A little note in forewarning, there is a not-so-small jibe at British politics in here, sorry if it offends anyone.


Mia leaned against the wall, her eyes closed and her head tilted towards the ceiling, just praying to whomever was out there. "Please, just let him live," she whispered. From her position, she could still hear the machines beeping, and the doctors talking in low voices. And then she heard the door. She opened her eyes as the doctor walked up to her, and time seemed to slow down. She sank onto the chair, almost hearing in her head what she expected him to say. And then he spoke.

"Ms Thermopolis. Your Majesty," he asked, or rather spoke.

"Yes?"

"Mr Moscovitz is going to be fine for the moment. We have had to place him in a comatose status, but if he makes it through the next three days, he should be okay. When he wakes up though…well, we don't know. It could happen in three hours, three days, three months, three years, or never at all. Although he will be wholly unconscious, he may still be able to hear you, so by all means talk to him, play his favourite music, try anything. I'm sorry," he said, and Mia let out a giddy breath. 'He's not dead,' was her only thought.


Mia let herself back into the room where Michael lay. He was surrounded by machines, and tubes. He barely even looked like Michael any more. There was a big tube in his mouth, doing his breathing for him. A ventilator, maybe? There were more in his hands, everywhere it seemed. The monitor was measuring a heartbeat, beep-beep-beeping away. Mia turned away, she couldn't look. He was so still, he could be dead-he certainly looked it. But he wasn't and he needed her. So she wiped away her tears, and sat herself in the chair next to the bed, holding his hand and talking to him about what had happened after he left.

At 9.52 by Mia's watch, the door burst open to reveal a red-faced, crying girl with shoulder length brown hair. She was slim, dressed in simple jeans and a t-shirt, and Mia was sure she recognised her.

"Mike…" she heard the girl sob, and it hit her. This was Lilly.

"Lilly?" she asked, almost before she could stop herself.

"M-Mia?" she asked in reply. Mia nodded once.

"How long have you been here?"

"Since he was brought in, pretty much. The docs fill you in?"

"Yeah," replied Lilly, sniffing.

"God, Lilly, it's been too long. Way too long."

"I know. We didn't exactly part on the best of terms, did we?"

"You hated my guts and I'd stopped caring," Mia replied, with a half laugh.

"I never really hated you, not really. To be honest, I was jealous. To me, it seemed like I was worthless because JP liked you better than me. So I gave up on JP, but I couldn't forgive you. I see now that it was stupid, but I couldn't bring myself to apologise. I tried to find you last year, but Ronnie said you'd moved, and she didn't know where. Your parents wouldn't tell me-not that I blame them, and I never did find your grandma."

"She went back to Genovia," Mia replied. "I bought a flat downtown, got myself a job. I guess you didn't ask Tina."

"I did. She wouldn't tell me."

"I see. Lilly, I don't blame you for the stuff you said-well, I do, but I have long since forgiven you. You always were mean out of spite, and for no other reason. Very like Lana Weinberger."

"Lana Weinberger?"

"Blame the shrink," Mia replied.

"Fair enough. Whenever the world goes wrong, blame the shrink who started the chain reaction!"

"If it weren't for shrinks, Gordon Brown wouldn't've corrupted the UK," Mia added, a subtle jibe at the current state of British politics. Lilly laughed.


"Do you reckon he's gonna be okay?" Lilly asked, an hour or so later.

"I don't know," replied Mia with a slight yawn. "I really don't know."

"Mia, you look shockingly awful. Why don't you go home, have a shower and catch some sleep. I'll ring you if anything happens."

"No. I'm not leaving him two days after he turns up again."

"I'm gonna go get a hotel. I've just had a six hour drive, I can't concentrate." She reached into her bag for a pen and paper, and scribbled something on it. "My number. If anything happens, call me." And then she was gone.


The next four days passed in a bit of a hazy blur. Mia barely moved from Michael's bedside, ignoring Lilly's attempts to get her to go find a hotel room. She barely ate, barely slept, almost to the point of making herself ill.

It was dark outside, and silent now. There were only two lights on in the ward-the one in here and one in the nurse's station. The nurses walked round hourly, just to check that everyone was okay and not dead or something. Mia leaned forwards, and tentatively held Michael's hand. Lilly had gone back to her hotel room-she couldn't just sit for days. Mia began to talk to Michael in a soft, low voice, about her mom, Mr G and Rocky, how they'd been since he left.

When she finished speaking, she squeezed his hand, just before she stood to head to the bathrooms. But something caught her by surprise, and that was that she felt the smallest amount of pressure on her own hand. She squeezed again, and received a slightly harder squeeze in reply. "My God, Michael?" she murmured, barely daring to believe it. Surely he wasn't awake-she was just dreaming or something. But then she heard him stir, and knew she wasn't.

"Thank the gods!" she whispered, and leaned over to grab her phone.

--

She dialled Lilly's number, and the phone was answered on the first ring.

"Mia?"

"Lilly. I think he's gonna be ok, he's waking up!"

"I'm coming!" And with that, she hung up, and Mia left the room. Quietly, she padded up to the nurses' station, and gently tapped on the door.

"'Scuse me, I think Michael might be waking up," Mia whispered to the nurse who had appeared in the doorway. She turned and signalled to another nurse, and they walked quickly but silently across the ward to the little room that Michael lay in.


Michael's visitors were only allowed in one at a time, as he was still very weak and could fall back at any time. Mia had told Lilly to go in first, and she spent a couple of hours in there. Then she came out, and told Mia that Michael was asking for her.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he replied, his voice very weak from lack of usage.

"How're you feeling?"

"Stupid question," he replied, a hint of a weak smile on his face.

"Yeah," she replied, and they fell into a slightly awkward silence. About fifteen minutes elapsed like this, and then Michael spoke again.

"Mia, can I ask you something?"

"Course!"

"Okay. Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo, known to most as Mia, will you marry me?"

Mia's jaw just about hit the ground in shock.

"Yes!" she said, a stunned expression of happiness lighting up her face.

"It's not quite as romantic as I'd hoped, I'm sorry," he replied. "Look in my bag, there's a black box in there." Mia found the box and opened it.

"It's beautiful!"


A.N. Okay, I'm going no further with this chapter. It's mammoth enough already. Please review it!