INT. GREY SLOAN MEMORIAL - ICU ROOM – DAY

The door opens softly.

Link steps inside.

The room is dim.

Machines hum. Monitor lights blink steadily.

Jo lies in the bed.
Unconscious. Pale. Still. Breathing through a machine. 

For a moment, Link just stands there.

Seeing her like this — finally — hits him all at once.

His shoulders sag.
His breath catches.

He lowers his head, pressing his lips together, trying — failing — to hold it in.

Tears spill silently.

He takes a step closer.
Another.

He reaches the bed and stops.

Slowly, carefully, he takes her hand.

It’s warm.
That’s what breaks him.

A quiet, broken sound escapes his chest as he bends forward.

He brushes his thumb over her knuckles, over and over — grounding himself in the motion.

Then he lifts his free hand and gently smooths her hair back from her face.

His fingers linger at her temple. Her cheek.

LINK
(whispering, breaking)
Hi, my love.

His voice cracks completely.

He swallows, tries again.

LINK (CONT’D)
I was just with our babies.

A breath.

LINK (CONT’D)
(through tears)
They’re beautiful.

He nods faintly, like saying it out loud makes it real.

A beat.

LINK (CONT’D)
You did it.

A beat.

Tears fall freely now.

He pulls a chair closer and sits, keeping her hand in his.
 
LINK (CONT’D)
They’re so small.
But so strong.

A beat.

LINK (CONT’D)
Just like you.

Another beat.

LINK (CONT’D)
I didn’t name them yet. 

A flicker of a smile — small, disbelieving — gone almost as soon as it appears.

LINK (CONT’D)
I know better than that.
(soft, almost fond)
You’d never forgive me.

He exhales — shaky.

LINK (CONT’D)
So… Baby A and Baby B.
(gentler)
For now.

He squeezes her hand gently.

A beat. 

LINK (CONT’D)
They need you.

His voice lowers.

LINK (CONT’D)
I need you.

He leans closer, forehead resting against the mattress near her arm.

His shoulders shake.

LINK (CONT’D)
I can’t do this without you.

The words are barely audible now.

LINK (CONT’D)
Please…

A breath that doesn’t steady.

LINK (CONT’D)
Come back to me.

He stays there, holding her hand.

The machines keep humming.

Jo doesn’t move.

But he doesn’t let go.

FADE OUT.