A few months later...

"Help me!" Ian's voice pierced through the chaos around him, filled with desperation. The air was thick with the cries of others, their pleas for assistance melding into a horrifying symphony of anguish and fear. Each sound echoed in his ears, amplifying his sense of panic. 

He attempted to shift his body, but an intense wave of pain coursed through him, radiating from every limb. It felt as though his body was made of lead, heavy and unresponsive. "Help... I can't move," he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. A grim realization settled over him: he could shout for all eternity, but he knew that no one could hear him amidst the din of chaos and destruction.

He strained to look around, his vision blurring at the edges, and spotted a crumpled piece of metal lodged precariously in the sky—part of a plane, its twisted frame a harbinger of doom, teetering on the brink of a devastating fall. The sight sent fresh terror coursing through him as he yelled again, each effort met with the suffocating weight of despair. His voice felt trapped as if the very air surrounding him conspired to silence him.

Just when hopelessness began to engulf him, he faintly heard a voice calling his name, breaking through the overwhelming noise. 

"Ian! Wake up! You're having nightmares!" Faith exclaimed, rushing into Ian's bedroom, her heart racing from the urgency in his voice. She got to his bedside just in time to see him thrashing about, the remnants of a dark dream etched across his face. She gently patted his cheek, hoping to bring him back to reality. His skin was clammy with sweat, a clear sign of the terror gripping him even in his sleep.

"Ian!" Faith raised her voice slightly, desperate to break through the fog of his nightmare. His eyes shot open, wide with shock, and he gasped for air as if he had just emerged from underwater. Panic danced in his gaze, making Faith's chest tighten with worry.

"Hey... hey... You're okay. You're home," she reassured him, her voice soft and steady, though her heart was heavy with concern. She studied his face closely, noting the way his eyes darted around the room, still trapped in the grips of his fear. Ever since his return from the hospital, where he had fought for his life after a devastating plane crash, the nights had been plagued by relentless nightmares that haunted him like ghosts.

Each dream felt vivid and raw, pulling him back to that fateful day, and Faith wished she could take away the pain that lingered in his mind. She leaned closer, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, trying to bring him comfort in the storm of his memories.

Ian lay on the bed, his breaths coming in quick, uneven gasps as he tried to regain his composure. Faith sat beside him, gently running her fingers through his tousled hair, hoping to offer some comfort. "Try to breathe slowly," she encouraged, her voice soft and soothing. "You are okay." Ian looked up at her, his eyes reflecting a mix of fear and vulnerability, and nodded slightly as he focused on calming himself.

Anxious about his condition, Faith carefully assessed him. "Are you hurt anywhere?" she asked gently, recalling the doctor's warnings that Ian wasn't completely healed yet, especially concerning his right leg. The doctor had mentioned bleakly that he might never fully regain the use of it, but there was a glimmer of hope if he committed to his physiotherapy sessions. Ian sighed, the weight of his injuries evident in his expression as he replied, "Yeah. My head and my leg."

Faith felt a pang of sympathy as she nodded in understanding. The thought of his pain made her heartache. She wanted to rise from the bed and fetch his pain medication, but just as she began to move, she felt him grasp her hand tightly. "Please don't leave me," he pleaded, his eyes searching hers for reassurance.

"I won't be long," Faith promised, trying to instil some confidence in him. "I just need to grab some water and your medications." Reluctantly, Ian released her hand, albeit with a hesitant nod. Cautiously, Faith made her way to the kitchen, her heartbeat quickening at the thought of leaving him even for a moment.

Once there, she filled a glass with cool water and retrieved the packet of medications from the cabinet, her mind racing with thoughts of Ian's health. She hurried back to his room, returning with a sense of urgency. Setting the glass and medication down gently on the nightstand, she moved closer to him.

"Let me help you sit up," she offered, supporting his back as he leaned against her for stability. Faith lifted the glass to his lips, watching as he took small sips, grateful for the refreshing relief it provided. After he drained the water, she handed him the medications, watching intently as he swallowed the pills with a grimace before downing the last bit of water.

Faith took the empty glass from him and placed it back on the nightstand, her heart swelling with a mixture of love and concern for Ian's recovery. She could feel the intensity of the moment—the stillness of the room around them, the weight of their journey ahead—and she was determined to be there every step of the way.  

Faith gently helped Ian lie back on the bed, ensuring he was comfortable. "Try to get some sleep," she advised softly, her voice carrying an undertone of concern. As she turned to head back to her bedroom, she heard Ian's voice, a quiet plea that caught her off guard. 

"Stay with me," he requested, a hint of vulnerability lacing his words. Faith paused, glancing back at him. Since their conversation a few months prior about the awkwardness of their first kiss, things between them had shifted. Ian had begun to withdraw, building an emotional wall that made her feel isolated. Whenever he had to travel for work, he never asked her for help with August, silently communicating that he didn't want to burden her. It was clear to Faith that the kiss had left a mark on him; when she had confessed to having someone else and labelled their moment as a mistake, she sensed that it had hurt him deeply. 

Despite her efforts to reach out, Ian always seemed to dodge the conversation, crafting excuses to keep his distance. So, when he asked her to stay, it stirred up a mix of hope and trepidation within her. 

"Are you sure?" she inquired, wanting to be certain that he genuinely wanted her there beside him. 

"Yeah. Please..." His response was barely above a whisper, but the desperation embedded in his voice was unmistakable. Feeling a swell of empathy, Faith nodded, setting aside her uncertainties. She climbed onto the empty side of the bed, careful not to jostle him too much.

"You have a physio session tomorrow, so you need to get some rest," she reminded him gently, settling in next to him. The sheets were cool against her skin, and she could feel the tension emanating from him even in the stillness.

Ian nodded, but she could see the fatigue etched on his face. He was grappling with pain that came not only from his physical condition but also from the emotional toll of everything between them. The physiotherapy sessions had become a source of agony, yet he couldn't bring himself to voice his exhaustion—both mental and physical. 

As he closed his eyes, Faith could see the flicker of defeat passing over his features. She lay there quietly, allowing the room to fill with the soft sounds of their breathing, hoping that maybe tonight would be different, that perhaps they could bridge the gap that had grown so wide between them. With a deep sigh, Ian slowly drifted off to sleep, surrendering to the solace of the darkened room and the presence of the one person he had been trying so hard to keep at arm's length.

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The next morning, Ian awoke to the faint sound of birds chirping outside the window, but when he turned his head, he realized that Faith was no longer beside him. A sense of loss washed over him momentarily, but he quickly reasoned that she must have already risen to prepare breakfast. The bright morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft patterns on the floor, but all he could think of was the emptiness next to him. 

August was currently staying with his parents, allowing Ian some space to heal, though he questioned whether true healing was possible after everything he had experienced. The doctors were urging him to see a psychiatrist, hoping to help him confront and process his trauma. Deep down, Ian understood that he was far from "fine." However, the thought of sharing his innermost fears and wounds felt insurmountable. The world around him often felt like a minefield; attacks of panic could strike at any moment. He recalled a particularly harrowing day when Faith had found him spiralling into a panic attack at the sound of a plate shattering on the floor. It had taken her nearly half an hour of gentle reassurance and calming presence to pull him back from the edge of his despair.

"Hey, Ian. You're awake," Faith's voice broke through his racing thoughts, bringing him back to reality. He blinked, momentarily disoriented before focusing on her warm smile.

"Yeah. I am awake," he replied, managing a small smile in return, though it felt fragile.

"How's your head? Still hurting?" she asked, her tone laced with concern as she stepped further into the room, the aroma of breakfast wafting in from the kitchen, offering a hint of normalcy.

"It's getting better. Thanks for last night," he said, appreciating her unwavering support without fully understanding how to articulate the weight of his gratitude. Faith simply nodded, a knowing look in her eyes.

"Come on... Let's get you into the shower. We can't be late for the doctor's appointment." Her voice was steady and encouraging as she wheeled the chair closer, her movements efficient and practised.

With a soft sigh, Ian nodded, allowing her to assist him into the wheelchair. He felt a swirl of mixed emotions as he sat there — comfort in her presence and guilt that she was so deeply involved in his care. A nagging thought tugged at him; he couldn't help but wonder if Faith's boyfriend resented the time she dedicated to nursing him back to some semblance of normalcy. Did he understand the depth of Ian's struggle, or was he just another weight on Faith's shoulders? 

As he readied himself for the challenges of the day ahead, he felt a fleeting desire to scream for her to leave him be, to let her live her life unburdened by his pain. Yet, he also craved her support, that familiar warmth that made the world seem a little less daunting. The internal conflict raged on, but for now, he focused on taking it one moment at a time.

Once Ian had finished taking his bath, the air was filled with a faint scent of soap and warmth. Faith stepped into the small, softly lit bathroom, her movements gentle as she carefully pushed the wheelchair back into the cozy confines of their shared room. The rays of morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow that reminded her of better days. Faith then paused outside the room, taking a deep breath as she gave Ian the privacy he needed to dress. 

"Are you done?" she called out, her voice filled with a blend of curiosity and concern. When no response came, she felt a wave of anxiety wash over her and quickly entered the room. There he was, already dressed but seemingly distant, lost in a place she couldn't reach.

"Ian?" She called his name softly as she knelt in front of him, her heart pounding as she looked into his eyes. They seemed to be staring past her, filled with a look of fear and confusion—a gaze that didn't belong to the man she loved.

"Ian... whatever you see right now, it wasn't real. Okay? You are okay. You are home now," Faith reassured him, her voice steady yet trembling with emotion. She could see beads of sweat forming on his forehead, glistening under the lights, a clear indication of his distress.

"Ian... can you hear me?" she pleaded, cradling his face tenderly between her palms, trying to anchor him to the present moment. 

"The plane is crashing..." he murmured, terror lacing his words. The haunting repetition of his fears echoed in the air between them. 

"No, Ian. You are here now. At home. With me," she insisted, her heart aching with each word as she fought against the anguish etched on his face. It was painful to witness the level of fear consuming him, the helplessness that had taken hold.

"Listen to my voice. Please..." Faith's voice turned desperate, almost pleading, as she fought back her tears. She reached out, holding his hand tightly in hers, hoping the warmth of her grip might reach through the haze clouding his mind. 

"You are safe now at home. I am here with you. Feel this?" she said softly, squeezing his hand firmly. Slowly, she sensed a change—the tension in his body began to ease slightly, and with a deep, shuddering breath, he started to come back to reality. 

"I am here," Faith repeated, a whisper of light returning to her voice. Ian finally nodded his head softly, the recognition flickering in his eyes. She lifted her hand to touch his cheek, the gentle caress meant to reassure him further.

"Maybe I can call your doctor and tell him that you aren't feeling well for the session today," Faith suggested, gauging his response. Ian simply nodded again, the weight of his discomfort evident. The thought of facing physiotherapy felt monumental to him in that moment.

"Okay. But still, you need to eat your breakfast," Faith said gently, a small smile breaking through her concern. Ian continued to watch her as she stood up, gathering her resolve before turning to leave the room. There was a quiet determination about her, a promise that she would always be there to help him through his darkest moments.

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Later in the afternoon, Faith made her way to Ian's bedroom, her heart heavy with concern. She hesitated at the door, noticing the shadows cast by the fading sunlight filtering through the window. His mood had been noticeably off that day, an unsettling heaviness that hung in the air, making her reluctant to disturb him. 

"You don't have to check on me every minute, Faith. I'm not crazy enough to take that step," Ian replied, his gaze fixed on the view outside—a world that seemed so distant from him now. Even without turning to look at her, he could tell she was standing there, worry etched in her posture.

"Please don't talk like that. I never think you're crazy. I just want to see if you need anything," Faith responded, her voice gentle yet firm, tinged with an urgency she couldn't hide. She recognized the coldness in his tone, a harsh echo of the way he used to sound when he lost Hope, the only light in his life for so long.

"You shouldn't waste your time on me," Ian said, the words coming out almost like a resignation. "You should go live your life. I don't want to be the reason your boyfriend leaves you." His eyes continued to stare out into the distance as if searching for something hopeful on the horizon that never came.

Faith's heart ached at his words. "Why do you even care so much about me?" Ian blurted out, his voice trembling. "I don't want to be another mistake in your life." It shocked her to hear those words come from Ian, revealing the deep-seated fears he harboured. Did he genuinely believe he was a burden to her?

"I care for you because you're the father to my nephew, Ian," she said, trying to keep her emotions in check. "August needs his father to heal, to be strong so he can spend time with him like he used to." As she spoke, uncertainty gripped her. Was that a good enough answer? Would it resonate with Ian?

"Please, don't push me away now," Faith pleaded, her eyes pleading with him to see the truth. "I can't have you giving up on yourself." Ian's expression fell, and he let out a heavy sigh, his spirit visibly slumping under the weight of despair.

"Just go and live your life," he said, his words heavy with defeat. "Be happy with your man. I've already given up. I can never be okay again. You heard what the doctor said—there's barely a chance for me to walk again." He sighed deeply, and Faith felt an ache in her chest as tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision.

"How can I be happy with the man I love if he has already given up on himself?" she asked, her voice breaking with raw emotion. Ian turned his head slightly at her words, surprise flickering across his features as he processed the gravity of her question. At that moment, a fragile silence hung between them, filled with unspoken fears and lingering hope.

Faith sniffled softly, the sound echoing in the quiet room as she took in a deep, trembling breath. Wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks, she glanced up to see Ian's wheelchair slowly turning to face her. His expression was a mix of confusion and hope, and he searched her eyes for clarity.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he were afraid of the answer. "You love me?" The question hung in the air, heavy with longing.

She nodded, her heart racing as she met his gaze. "Yeah, I do," she replied, her voice steadying despite the quaver of emotion beneath it. "That's why I don't mind staying by your side. Our first kiss... it wasn't a mistake. I was just overwhelmed by my feelings and burdened by guilt towards Hope." 

Taking a breath, Faith leaned closer, closing the gap between them, her eyes pleading. "I don't know how to express all of this, but please... don't give up on us. I can't bear the thought of losing you too." As if seeking connection, she knelt beside him, her hands cradling his, their touch electric against the storm of emotions swirling around them.

Ian looked at her, and his grip tightened around her hands, a flicker of desperation in his eyes. "I love you too," he admitted, the words laced with pain. "But I can't do this anymore. I've tried so hard, but each time, I just end up disappointing myself. I can't shake the feeling that I'm not enough."

Faith gently caressed his cheek with her thumb, her heart aching for him. "It's okay," she reassured him with a soft smile that didn't quite mask her worry. "I'm here with you. You don't have to push yourself so hard. Rest when you need to. Healing takes time, and you know that better than anyone."

He listened, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit as her words wrapped around him like a comforting embrace. "Just promise me that you won't ever give up," she continued, her voice steadying with conviction. "Do this for Auggie. For me. For us. I know Auggie can't wait to play with his father again." 

Ian nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his eyes. Faith was right; he couldn't give up now. His son still needed him, and now that he understood the depth of Faith's love, he knew he had to be strong—not just for Auggie, but for her too. The realization filled him with a glimmer of hope, igniting a spark within him to fight through the darkness that had clouded his heart for so long.