It's a day like any other day. Well, that's what people say when bad things happen, right? Normal people, anyway. Jimmy Jacobs hasn't really ever been all that normal, but those seven words still end up running through his mind as action in the ring becomes action out of the ring and... well, it gets so vicious even Steve Corino ends up caught in the middle of it, punched in the face and knocked from the announcer's desk despite only being out there to support Kevin Steen, same as Jimmy.
Eddie Edwards, of course, has to do his crazy dare devil crap while Jimmy is lurking around outside and Steen's title run has flashed before all of their eyes multiple times during this match already so Jimmy does what makes sense to him in the moment and plants his feet firmly before pushing Kevin as hard as he can- it still only sends the much larger man a little ways away but it's enough, helping him to regain awareness enough to duck and grab for the ring apron for support as Edwards comes flying over the top and slams directly into Jimmy, sending him into the barricade wall back-first hard enough that all of the wind is knocked from his lungs.
That is the least of his problems, however, as he sinks down to the floor, unable to stay on his feet. It had happened so fast, he can't tell what exactly happened but he feels wrong. Taking slow, painful breaths, he can just see into the ring as Kevin slides back inside and catches an approaching Eddie, slamming him hard against the canvas before covering him. It only gets a two and the whole arena seems to pause, everyone wondering just what Kevin has to do to put him down this time.
Except that Steve is here now, restricting his vision and he loses track of the match, Corino's fingers pressing down on his jaw. There's an angry red mark on his face from where Eddie had punched him when he'd gotten too close and Jimmy's eyes go right to it, barely registering the man's words as he tries to figure out what's wrong. Finally he licks his lips, locks eyes with Steve and mutters, "I think... I can't feel my legs, Steve." That's what it is, he realizes as the softly spoken words echo in his mind. Steve is kneeling down, his knee pressed against Jimmy's bare leg and he can't feel the rough material of his slacks, the coolness of the mat beneath him, nothing.
The older man pales, ruffles his hair. "Ok, Jimmy, it's ok. Take it easy, I'll get a trainer here." Before he can finish talking, Unsettling Differences begins playing and Steve looks over his shoulder, Jimmy just able to see Kevin celebrating yet another hard-fought victory when he moves. "I'll be right back," he tells Jimmy, stepping away quickly. Jimmy feels cold as he watches Kevin and Steve talk tensely from the apron, Steen staring down at him with wide, dark eyes.
Where Steve marches off to then, Jimmy isn't sure but Kevin rolls out of the ring and drops his title belt next to Jimmy, sitting down next to him like they do this every day. His gaze is steady, calm. "Hey, what happened, Jimmy?"
"I hit the barricade back first when Edwards dived out," he chokes out, feeling weak and so scared in this moment. "I can't feel my legs." Second time of saying it is somehow worse than the first, especially when Kevin reaches out and wraps his arms around his shoulders, squeezing carefully.
"Don't worry, man, the trainers'll straighten this out. You'll be fine." His gaze doesn't waiver once and Jimmy is almost inclined to believe him, as always... except that... well, nobody really can tell that for sure, right? Before he can even decide how to answer the ROH World Champion, trainers and EMTs run out to look him over. Jim Cornette is among them but Kevin stops him at the pass, quickly to his feet and in Jim's face, a maddening smirk on his face, content to argue with him if it means he'll leave Jimmy alone while they prepare to move him. Jacobs appreciates the effort, even if he does miss Kevin's calming presence while he's worked on.
When he's finally on a stretcher, neck secure in a brace so dwarfing that he can't see around it, much less move, Kevin returns and rests a hand on his upper arm. Steve's on the other side and he knows that they're talking lowly over him, but he's drowning in uncertainty and stress and half of his body is still numb, so it doesn't really register. He falls asleep before they even leave for the hospital.
When he wakes up, Steve is there- no Kevin- and a doctor arrives quickly, settling down in a stool facing him to tell him his condition. Which, really, what is there to say? You can't feel your legs, you may never walk again, and your career may be over. Yeah, Jimmy knew the shorthand version of it from the moment he sank to the floor in that arena and couldn't get back up. But the doctor insists on explaining further, that, when he hit the steel bars comprising the barricade, he'd compressed a vertebrae in his back- there's swelling around his spine- causing the paralysis- if the swelling goes down, his condition may change, but for now- for now... for now.
For now they wait. They hope. They monitor. They put him in physical therapy as soon as possible, slow and careful at first but enough to keep his body strong. They prepare him for a life stuck in a wheelchair, just in case, the doctors insist as his hope drains away steadily. The silence between Jimmy's ears is only compounded by the lack of Kevin. "Why?" he asks, eyes squeezing shut once the doctor is gone. Why now. Why me. Why isn't Kevin here. Why. Why. Why.
Steve tries, he does. Whenever ROH isn't touring, he's there, helping Jimmy as much as he can. Even when the shorter man gets angry or depressed, he ignores it and keeps a steadfast hold on his own emotions, knowing that if it was the other way around, he too would be emotionally wrought. Every time, he rests a hand on Jimmy's neck and gently kneads his skin, listening as the shaky, rapid breathing slowly calms. "You'll be ok, I promise. You'll pull through this." It's cliche and it's cheap and he wants to punch himself when he says it but Jimmy rests his head back against Steve's arm and just digests, obviously trying his hardest not to cry. Everything about him still bleeds, demands, Where is Kevin? Why isn't Kevin here? Steve wishes he knew, the world champion being even more tight lipped than normal about things following this, their phone calls tense and only revolving around ROH business. If Steve didn't know him as well as he did, he'd believe that Kevin Steen had decided to pretend that there had been no Jimmy Jacobs in his life, that the younger man hadn't gotten injured during one of his matches. That it had always been just the two of them against ROH as a whole.
After about a week and a half, Jimmy's finally about to be released from the hospital. He's going to stay with Steve for awhile, until he figures things out and feels like he can live alone safely, and has a wheelchair accessible place to stay. Steve's house thankfully has a guest room on the first floor and a stairs free front entrance, so it makes the most sense while he's still adjusting to his new life. Don't think like that, Jimmy, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Kevin's tells him calmly, as if his voice deserves to tell him anything ever again after all of this, after not showing his face for almost two weeks. You'll walk again. You just have to want it deep inside.
Of course he wants it, wanting it's never been the problem. It's all he thinks about, spending whole nights laying in bed, staring at the ceiling and stubbornly pinching and slapping his legs, desperate... demanding to feel some sort of sensation, not even blinking an eye when Steve tries to help him get dressed each morning, just to find new, dark bruises and palm prints across his upper thighs down to his knees. "You have to stop this, man," he says one day, sadness bleeding into his tone as he stares down at the twenty eight year old.
"I can't," Jimmy whispers, staring down at his worthless limbs.
Dammit, Kevin, Steve can't help but think as he helps Jimmy put shoes on, more for show than anything- Jimmy hasn't left Steve's house since he'd arrived a few days ago. Doctor appointments are coming up and Steve vows then to take the young man out around town, even if they're both just stuck in the car... anything to give him a little fresh air, maybe force some food into him. He'd even let him choose the radio station they'd listen to, anything to get that haunted look off of his face for a few minues. He's not been eating or sleeping well, obviously, his once lean body now looking nearly skin and bones, the deep, dark bruises under his eyes almost matching the ones on his legs. It had taken Steve a minute to realize that no, he hadn't started using his dark eyeliner once more- that would've been a promising development compared to this.
They eat a quiet breakfast, Steve glancing up now and again at his house guest. He hasn't said anything but he knows Jimmy has to have guessed- the weekend is nearing and with weekends come ROH tours and TV tapings, which means he has to go and leave Jimmy behind. He had set up a nurse to come in twice a day in his absence to make sure everything's going smoothly, but it still leaves many, long hours where something could go wrong. One plus being that the rehab specialist had worked nonstop with Jimmy until he had mastered transferring himself to and from the wheelchair before they even talked about releasing him from the hospital seriously, so Steve wasn't worried about that, necessarily. Just everything else.
He thinks it must be obvious what conversation is coming up because Jimmy takes his sweet time eating, finally putting the fork down after almost ten minutes from Steve finishing his own meal. As bad as his appetite still obviously is, the disappointment on Steve's face when he had barely touched his food the first day or two after leaving the hospital had left him feeling guilty and disgusted with himself- here his friend was, taking him in, trying to help him, and he couldn't even eat half of what food was put before him? And so he forces it, even when eating feels like torture and the food tastes like cardboard because he's just not in the mood to eat, only feeling a miniscule amount better when Steve seems to relax a bit with each passing meal.
"So, we need to talk," he finally says, staring across the table at a distracted Jimmy. "I-"
"Steve, man, I know. ROH tapings this weekend, you won't be around. I'll be fine," he says, trying to dismiss it like it's nothing, like he's been alone and unable to walk a thousand times before. "Don't worry."
The nearly 40 year old rolls his eyes slightly, sitting forward in his chair and trying to catch Jimmy's eye as he picks at the armrests of his wheelchair. "No, Jimmy, just listen for a minute. I hired in a nurse, she'll be by a couple times a day to check in on you, and if you need anything when she's not around, I put the neighbors' numbers in your cell phone's speed dials. If anything happens, you call me, ok? No matter what time."
"You didn't have to do that," he murmurs, still unable to look away from his chair.
"Yes, I did." Steve waits patiently, staring intensely at him, until finally he does look up. Corino smiles slightly at him, tilting his head. "Can't have anything happen to the Zombie Princess on my watch, right? Kevin'd kill me." He knows as soon as the words leave his mouth that it was a bad, bad idea, the way Jimmy's eyes grow dull and his lips pinch into an unhappy grimace.
Despite how inseparable Kevin and Jimmy had been the last few months, there hadn't been a visit... not even a phone call... since the accident. It makes no sense to Steve and he thinks if he could get ahold of Steen for longer than a minute, he'd gladly lay into the man for being a coward, but Kevin had become the expert at doing what he has to for each match or promo and then leaving. He hadn't even mentioned what had happened to Jimmy since that night, ignoring everything Kevin Kelly or Jim Cornette dared to say about it to his face.
"I'm sorry," he mumbles, feeling horrible as Jimmy shrugs. "I don't know..."
"Who does?" the younger man asks. He's not stupid, he knows that Kevin is avoiding him. Probably has little need for an invalid friend- if they were really ever friends to begin with- but it still hurts, checking Twitter when he can't sleep and seeing that Steen has tweeted half a dozen times over the day but continues to ignore him. Watching ROH every week and seeing Steen doing this, saying that, and outright glossing over the night that had changed Jimmy's life, probably permanently. If he wasn't so damn depressed, he'd probably hate Kevin Steen about now.
But he can't. He can't even hate Eddie Edwards. It was just one of those things, a split second decision that had ended in the worst way possible. And wasn't that the true kicker in all of this, his sacrifice had saved Kevin Steen's title run, and he couldn't even get a 140 character tweet from the man? A text to ask how he's doing? Nothing?
Steve smiles sadly at him, standing from the table and rounding to Jimmy's side, where he musses his dark, unruly hair, the kid subconsciously leaning into his warmth. "I gotta go pack. I'll be out in a little bit."
"Alright." He watches him go, wondering how hard it'll be to keep from totally snapping and trashing Steve's nice house while he's gone. Two and a half days, after all, is a very long time when you have nothing to do but sit and stare from a wheelchair as life passes you by.
Upon arriving at the weekly arena for ROH, Steve is surprised to find Kevin sitting on a concrete ledge outside of the building, the title belt slung next to him. "Hey," he greets him, eyebrows raised when Kevin glances up at him.
"Hey." He does a quick glance around, and Steve's heart sinks- it's like he's looking for someone, the third person in their group- before he remembers and realization sinks in. His expression immediately turning blank, he takes a deep breath, returning his focus back to the phone in his hands. "What's going on?"
Oh, you know- same old, same old, just tryin' to keep your best friend from sliding off of the rails while you sit on this damn wall IGNORING HIM, Corino stews mentally before shaking his head, sitting next to him. "Nothing. Nothing at all." He watches Kevin out of the corner of his eye and damn, he's gotten good at reading the ROH champion in the last few months and it really looks like he wants to ask something, but can't find the words. "Jimmy's staying at my place now."
Kevin says and does nothing for a long, long time. "Is he alright?" He says it so simply, like Jimmy isn't paralyzed, isn't hurting, isn't confused. It only makes Steve feel angrier, close to snapping.
"What do you think?" Steve can't stop himself from saying, watching as Steen almost folds in on himself as he turns his attention back to the phone in his hand. He wants so badly to slap it from his hand, slap him around until he acknowledges how bad all of this really is, admit that he misses Jimmy.
He continues staring until finally Kevin stands and re-enters the arena, as if the last five minutes hadn't even happened. Something that's become status quo from him lately, Steve stews for awhile longer before storming in after him, his arms crossed over his chest. They film a promo and he has to do commentary on another of Kevin's matches and both seem to last forever; if his displeasure with the champion is obvious, well... he can't really bring himself to care.
Jimmy stares out of the window at the darkening street outside of Steve's house, sighing. He's bored. He's lonely. But mostly, he's sore and a little jittery. Wrestlers are used to high octane, nonstop living- if they stop moving, they stop fighting, and so they really never do. Who needs hours upon hours of sleep or quiet times at home when they can go from place to place, sending their bodies just a little further to the brink? Search out that little extra bit of madness, find yet another person to impress, lay their mark upon- a brief flicker of immortality in such a fickle business... He's had some of his worst times in wrestling, and some of the best, as well. It's a raw ache, how badly he misses it right now. He would love to be able to get up and kick someone's face in right now, or even pull out his trusty spike and play jack-o-lantern with someone's face...
Shaking his head in disgust at these thoughts, he roughly wheels himself away from the window and towards the bedroom Steve had set up for him. He isn't hungry, despite the groceries that Steve had made sure to stock up on before leaving, or the various delivery menus he had put in reach on the kitchen table for his perusal. He just wants to sleep. Forget. Maybe dream a much better reality than this one.
He knows he's heading down a bad path. He doesn't really care, embraces it even.
Steve and Kevin room that night at some hotel off of the highway, unimpressed by its ... amenities, but neither say a word. Usually the three of them would hole up in one room, making fun of the crappy view, the people filling the other rooms, and chasing off children from whatever game room there might be, before abusing the various game machines- it really gets bad when there were crane games, Jimmy gleefully picking out as many stuffed animals as he could. In the middle of the night, they'd sneak out and, hiding behind bushes or anything else they could find, sling the various toys out into the highway, imagining afterwards all of the tramautized children waking up in time to see Mommy or Daddy squash Teddy against their windshield.
Steve smiles faintly at the memory as he pours water into the grimy bathroom sink, wincing against the chill as he splashes it against his face, taking a deep breath. He's not sure what time it is, exactly, but figures it doesn't matter either way, pulling out his cell phone. Jimmy is #2 on his speed dial and he stares at the picture he'd assigned to the younger man of the three of them smirking into the camera, Kevin's arm wrapped snugly around the shorter man's shoulders, pulling him closer as he himself leans against the ROH champ on the other side. It makes him ache, somehow, this captured image of their past when none of them knew what was coming- that this solidarity between them was temporary, would soon end.
His eyes start to sting and he sucks in a deep breath, finally pressing the send button. As it rings in, he leans over the sink, cradling the phone to his ear as he waits. He thinks Jimmy may actually be asleep for once when finally there's a soft click. "Hello?"
Steve's smile is instantaneous and full of relief, taking a second just to absorb the moment. "Hey, man. Did I wake you up?"
"No," he answers after a moment where Corino can hear fumbling from the other end. "What time is it anyway?"
He pauses awkwardly before laughing, running a hand through his partially bleached hair. "Hell if I know. I just got a minute and wanted to check in on you. Everything alright?"
"Yeah, everything's fine." The way he says it, in that tone of voice one uses when nothing is fine but talking about it is the last thing he wants to do, does little to quell Steve's anxiety about leaving him mostly alone. "How was the show tonight?"
"Oh. It's ok," he shrugs. "Did commentary, and a backstage promo... you know, the usual." They both fall silent, Steve unwilling to mention Kevin unless he knows that Jimmy wants to hear about the other man. When he doesn't volunteer or ask, Steve finds it quite easy to go along with- he doesn't blame his friend at all for not wanting to hear about the ROH champion right now. "One more event tomorrow night and then I'll be heading home. Is there anything you'll want when I'm on my way?"
"No," Jimmy says. "Thanks though." There's more rustling, Jimmy grunting quietly as he probably transfers from the bed to his chair. "Hey Steve?"
"Yeah?"
There's another lengthy pause before finally Jimmy mumbles, a little more life in his voice, "No offense but your house is kinda creepy, y'know?" He chuckles then, Steve's surprised laughter following it.
Once they get off the phone a few minutes later, he slips out of the bathroom, unsurprised to find Kevin sprawled out on the furthest bed, eyes locked on a book. He slumps onto his own bed, pulling his shoes off and preparing to crash, when the world champion clears his throat, Steve immediately freezing. "You want something, Kevin?" It's the first words he's spoken to him all evening that aren't to do with ROH and, oh God, they come out so bitter, he comes close to cringing, not sure how the combustible man across from him will respond.
"Was that Jimmy?" is all he says, barely looking up from the page he's pretending to read. At his vague nod, Kevin rolls over, facing him. The book seemingly now forgotten, he looks across at him. "Everything alright?"
"Everything's great," he answers dully. "Why wouldn't it be?" Kevin stares at him, his face pinched tight. Something about the look on his face just cracks at Steve, destroying whatever's left of his self-control that had been slowly evaporating over the last two weeks. "What do you want me to say? That he's stuck in a wheelchair because he was trying to help you, and you can't even be bothered to call him for a minute? Or that, while we're here, he's holed up in my house, alone and depressed and not sure what the future will bring for him because he can't feel his damn legs? That I'm trying to hold everything together and dammit, I don't know what the hell to do for him or how to smack sense into you because you're choosing to pretend that he doesn't even exist? Yeah, Kevin, NEVER BETTER." Almost shaking with anger at the situation and the startled look on Kevin's face, he rolls over and throws a pillow over his head, too angry to sleep but not wanting to encourage any further conversation.
The next night passes by quickly, Steve doing more subdued commentary and another tense backstage segment, just barely hanging around until the show ends. Kevin remains quiet as well, only talking to Corino when he needs to, keeping himself isolated from everyone the rest of the time. He deserves this, Steve thinks viciously, unable to even look Kevin in the eye as they pass by each other in the halls. He's in the rental and heading for the airport, not wanting to spend any more time with Steen than he absolutely needs to, as soon as the show wraps up. He'll be home before he told Jimmy he would, a red eye thankfully flying directly to Pennsylvania in a few hours. He'll rent a car and drive the rest of the way, it won't be that big of a deal. Anything to give him a few days away, get his head back on straight before he sees Kevin again.
No matter how he may feel at the moment, for now his professional livelihood is connected closely to the world champion's own career and he's not in the mood to be left swaying in the unknown, he'd had enough of that since ECW went defunct well over ten years ago.
The next few days pass by quietly, doctors and specialists agreeing that, with physical therapy keeping his body strong, Jimmy may have some chance of movement and sensation again, but for now... It's not at all what either men want to hear but they have no true choice but to accept it, falling into a routine of home, appointments, Ring of Honor responsibilities, and everything else. After that appointment, Jimmy begins looking once more for an apartment with his new requirements but Steve takes the laptop from him after awhile and rests it on a nearby desk, kneeling down in front of him.
"What are you doing, man?" he says, trying to wheel around him but unable to as he rests his hands on the arms of the chair, holding it in place almost better than any brake could. "I need to keep looking, find a place... I don't want to bother you any more than I already have-"
Steve shakes his head, his eyes grim but resolute. "Jimmy, you're not a bother. In fact, I've been thinking since I came back home. Why don't you just stay here? This way you won't be alone, and I can make sure you take some care of yourself... It's the only thing that makes sense, kid."
Jimmy's eyes are reluctant, his hands bunched around his jeans tightly. "I don't know."
Steve forces a smile, so many emotions on his face that it's hard for Jimmy to deduce which is which. "Listen, I want you here, alright? I've gotten used to having you here, and do you really think I'm going to kick you out? Just stay, alright. However long you want. If you start to hate it here, then sure, I'll help you find a place myself, but for now, what's the harm?" He pauses, deciding to play a little dirty. "Besides if you stay, you'll have a willing person right here to help with your exercises and getting to your appointments whenever you need." He's about to continue on with the hard sell when Jimmy sighs, holding a hand up to curtail his words.
"Fine," he finally concedes, lips twitching as Steve smiles up at him. "I'll stay for awhile. Not forever, but for awhile."
"That's all I'm asking for." Relieved, Steve stands up and clicks the laptop shut. "Come on, let's get something for breakfast now."
Jimmy nods, following him slowly. Sometimes, like this morning, it's easy to forget that he might be stuck in this chair permanently. He's so thankful to Steve for making something like that even possible after the first few days, where it had been all he could truly think about.
By the second month, he's almost used to it, his life revolving around his wheelchair and needing Steve to go anywhere, when something changes. The PT specialist, a nice woman with soft brown eyes and muted, simple makeup, presses a spoked wand along his foot and scrapes it upwards, an uncomfortable itchy feeling accompanying it. He jerks and looks up at her, something close to betrayal in his eyes. "Hey," he barks at her, not sure what he just felt and not wanting to jump to assumptions. He had had other moments of false hope, his legs twitching pointlessly or waking up to what felt like his toes were tingling just for nothing to come of it no matter how hard he had tried to recreate the moment. "What did you just do?"
She stares at him, startled. "I didn't do anything out of the ordinary, Mr. Jacobs. Did you feel something?" He nods and she scrapes the device along his heel once more, noticing it that time as his foot twitches in her hand. "Would you look at that," she smiles up at him. "What do you say? Up for some tests?"
"Yes," he grounds out, trying to keep the base hope from his voice and knowing he fails completely as her eyes soften, a warm hand resting on his shoulder as she walks past him.
"I'll go set them up. While you wait, do you want me to call Mr. Corino in?"
He tilts his head backwards over the side of the cot he's sprawled out on, pondering this as he watches her waiting his verdict. Steve should know... I just hope it doesn't end up being another fake out... "Yeah," he sighs, swallowing. "Please."
Steve looks hopeful but doesn't say much, knowing better than to risk getting Jimmy's hope up or making him angry by saying the wrong thing. They're still sitting quietly, lost in their own thoughts, when the specialist returns to wheel him out. Jimmy can't help but wonder if this'll be one of the last few times he's stuck in a wheelchair.
The tests go quickly, the Zombie Princess holding his breath through each scan, hoping beyond hope that this would be the one to show a difference- prove that he's going to be ok. When he returns to the room, Steve stands and sits closer to him, smiling half-heartedly. "It go alright?" Jimmy nods jerkily, unable to speak- if he opens his mouth, he thinks he would risk throwing up every meal he'd had the last week all over his friend. Steve smiles slightly at him, understanding, and rests a hand on his leg. Jimmy tries not to be disappointed that he can't feel that, staring ahead blankly while they wait for the results to come in.
When the specialist returns almost an hour later, she apologies for the wait, not startled by the glares fed her way. "Your results are in," she says smoothly, sitting down on a stool across the room from the other two and pushing it closer to them. "Mr. Jacobs, they're looking very promising." She smiles as both men release breaths, causing them to look deflated in their relief. "The scans of your spine show that the swelling has gone down significantly, which probably is a reason why you're getting some feeling back. We still have a long way to go, but it's promising start."
"Now what do we do?" Jimmy finally asks, looking so young in this moment that Steve almost can't believe he's 28.
"We switch up your rehab, a little. Focus a little more on strengthening your legs, keep a closer eye on the swelling in your spine. There should be more marked improvement in the feeling in your legs, but I'm warning you now: don't think that it's an instant cure. We still have a fair amount of work ahead of us." She turns to look at Steve, eyebrow raised warningly. "Keep an eye on him, he's going to feel better and better the more he can feel, but he's nowhere near ready to start walking normally. Trying to do so could hinder his recovery seriously. It's going to take time and patience. Something I get the feeling he has little of, for the latter."
Steve smiles as Jimmy looks annoyed, almost angry at her ignoring him in lieu of talking to his tag partner. "Of course, I'll make sure he's a good boy."
They return home and Jimmy stares down at his still all-but motionless legs. "Steve... do you think...?" He coughs, unable to finish his thought, seemingly unwilling to state his fervent hope in case it should jinx it.
Knowing him well enough to guess what's on the tip of his tongue, Steve rests a hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles against his tense muscles there. "I think so, Jimmy. I do." Kneeling over so they're eye to eye, he smiles. "You're gonna be just fine." The kid looks so wrecked, like he wants to hope but is almost scared to, that Steve's chest throbs a bit just to look at him. "C'mon, what do you want to eat?"
Days turn into weeks and the progress is slow but there's some, Steve observing quietly from the doorway as Jimmy is helped to his feet once more and the specialist supports him, watching closely as he clings to a bar, sweating profusely despite not doing a whole lot. It's obvious how hard he's straining to even move an inch and all Steve can do is watch, repeat over and over Come on, Jimmy, you can do it, move. Move... Move!
Finally he takes a step and Steve's face cracks into a brilliant smile even as his body almost folds in on itself and the specialist has to help him back over to the wheelchair, just that little bit of progress enough to exhaust him, wear down muscles that haven't been used regularly for much too long. The Zombie Princess is sweaty and breathless as Steve rounds his chair to look at him, and it's one of the best things he's seen since this whole nightmare began. They grin at each other, Corino's hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "Well, look at that, I may have my tag partner back before the end of the year after all."
He squeezes his arm slightly and laughs as Jimmy huffs at him. "Try the end of the month," he says haughtily.
Ha, give him one good work out and he suddenly gets all these hefty expectations," Steve teases him gently. "But seriously, Jimmy. Congratulations. I can't wait to see the look on..." He hesitates, spotting a gleam of something in Jimmy's eyes that he doesn't necessarily like, powering through it anyway. "... Jim Cornette's old face. He's going to hate this so much."
Looking relieved, Jacobs grins slightly. "Tell me about it. He's going to hate having SCUM back under thumb." His expression growing more guarded, he takes a deep breath and shrugs. "Let's get out of here."
"You got it."
The next few days pass by with Steve helping Jimmy where he can, supporting him as he tests his own stamina out, fighting to take one step after the other. He never gets too far, barely managing two or three steps at a time, but it's a start. Steve reminds him whenever he starts to look frustrated to take it easy, that he's going to need to let his body readjust to being able to walk around once more, get stronger.
That weekend, Steve has more ROH responsibilities to handle, growing a little more secure in leaving Jimmy behind this time. "One thing," he says before going to the car to begin his path to the next taping.
"Yeah?" Jimmy asks, staring down at his legs as he pictures getting up and going outside, taking in the fall weather steadily overwhelming Pennsylvania. "What?"
"I doubt I can do much to stop you from trying to walk while I'm gone." He swallows, not even wanting to imagine coming home to find the kid on the floor, helpless and possibly injured worse. "I just ask one thing- do so with your phone nearby and please, be careful and don't overdo it, huh? I will have the neighbors check in on you, if you don't answer the phone when I call. And kid?" Despite looking annoyed at the nickname, Jimmy waves him on. "When I call and you do answer, tell me the truth of what's going on. I don't need to come home to some nasty surprise."
Jimmy sighs, shifting awkwardly in the wheelchair. He can't wait to say goodbye to the thing. "I know, Steve. I'll be careful."
He tries, he does. And he manages, really. He has a couple of scary moments over the weekend when his legs start to buckle under him but he makes sure to be close to the couch whenever he does try to walk by himself, easily enough to flop over and catch his breath on before transferring to his wheelchair where he rests for a bit, gears up for another try. He manages three steps in a row after a few tries, somewhere between disgusted that that seems good and yet relieved to slowly be making progress.
Steve still isn't talking that much to Kevin, trying not to be charmed by the ROH champion's at times self-effacing attitude or responding to his easy humor, but when the larger man finally says something about Jimmy Jacobs during one of his promos- Steve isn't even sure what he says, barely paying attention, but just hearing his name is enough to entice the former ECW champion-, for the first time in months, he snaps. Just barely holding it in while they're in the ring, in front of the cameras, he lets loose on him as soon as they're out of the audience's sight, fixing a hard glare on him. "So you're ok with not talking about Jimmy for months, and now you're pretending like you care?"
Kevin's cocksure smirk fading from his face as easily as it'd appeared, he glares back at Steve. "I do care about him."
"Aw yeah, we can tell. Do you know he used to refuse to let go of his phone, even when he was in bed, in case you'd call? All he wanted was to hear once from you, that would've made his whole recovery period a whole hell of a lot easier. But no, you show up on TV week in and week out, and you tweet almost daily, but do you bother even sending him an email? Hell no. You let him drift in the wind, as if he'd never even existed. As if SCUM hadn't ever been a thing!" Steve's face reddening with anger, he pushes him against the wall, not bothered in the slightest by the differences in their size, and snarls at him. "That guy, he's been at my house for months now and I've watched him work his ass off to try to walk again, and you can't even place a simple damn phone call to-"
"It's my fault," Kevin finally mutters.
"Damn straight-" Steve says, before realizing what exactly Kevin had just said, coming to a sudden stop in both his verbal and physical barrage. "Wait. What?"
"You heard me. This is all my fault." He stares at Steve, his eyes dark and so exhausted and bitter that it shocks the oldest member of SCUM. "If he hadn't been trying to help during my match, if I'd watched out for him more, if I... if I had gotten out of the way on my own..."
He looks so frustrated, so oddly young considering that he's the world-traveled Kevin Steen, holding three different world titles at once from three different federations, having seen so much more than most guys his age already, that Steve finds himself reconsidering what he'd felt and thought the past few months. Finds himself in the unbelievable position of wanting to comfort Kevin, though he's not sure he understands. "Is that why you were distancing yourself from Jimmy? Because you feel responsible?"
"I know it doesn't make sense."
"Damn right it doesn't make sense!" Steve's anger rebuilds at this and he has to hold himself back not to lose it on Kevin, his jaw held tightly. "All you succeeded at doing is making him feel worse. He doesn't need your guilt, or your self-recriminations. You know what he needed this whole time?" At Steen's negative headshake, Steve stares at him solemnly. "He needed you. Not me. Not Jim Cornette gladhanding him to try to keep him from suing. He needed... his best friend."
Kevin looks even worse at this, his breath coming out shaky and harsh. "I'm an idiot."
"Of course you are." Steve sighs, his hatred for the man before him leaking out of him with that one, weighty exhale. "But I know how you can fix this."
Jimmy closes his eyes, listening as a car pulls up outside. Steve's home, he thinks to himself, staring down at his legs with a pensive frown. "It's time," he mumbles. His attempts at walking the last couple of days had come with some varied results, his strength still embarassingly low, but he knows that it will grow. Like the amount of steps he could walk had with repetitive work. Now he could walk the few steps from the edge of the couch to the door, which really is no more than five or six, but still. It's progress. Progress he can handle. Progress he can build on. Considering only a couple of months ago, it had been hesitantly commented that, worst case scenario, he might never walk again, he could definitely work with this.
Awkwardly standing, he braces himself against the couch for a moment before, sucking in a deep breath, he takes a slow step and another, and one more. He's almost at the door, hoping that Steve gives him another minute to unlock it for him, wanting to surprise him by standing and actually supporting himself without looking like he's about to topple over, but his legs are starting to give out and... Not yet, not yet, he thinks desperately, trying to piece together what's left of his stamina. "Hurry up, Steve," he mumbles, just now within reach of the doorknob. Gripping it, he waits until the footsteps pause behind the screen door and he closes his eyes.
Finally he hears the aged thing squeak like it always does and he takes his chance, pulling the front door open and, gripping the handle tightly in some hope that it'll support him long enough for his surprise to be observed, looks up, expecting Steve to be standing before him with a shocked look on his face. Instead Jimmy's the one in shock as he comes face to face with Kevin Steen, his hands slipping from the door with a loud click as the knob snaps back into place. He shakes his head, forgetting briefly how weak he really still is, trying to take a step backward and failing. His strength gone, he starts to fall, feels himself going down, but can do nothing to stop it.
Even so, gravity fails as arms wrap around him, supports him. Rough facial hair is scraping against his forehead and he shudders, eyes wide at how close he'd come to risking his recovery with this moment of stupidity. More overwhelming than that shock, however, is the fact that Kevin Steen is now inside of Steve's house right now, holding onto him protectively and breathing heavily. When the buzzing in his ears fades away, he realizes that the larger man is murmuring, "You're ok, you're ok. I gotcha, Jimmy" against his hair repeatedly, sounding so normal, like the last few months hadn't happened, that it almost breaks his heart.
A few moments later, Steve rushes into the house, looking worried as he finds Kevin supporting a pale, sweaty Jimmy, but he takes one look at the scene, overhears what Kevin is mumbling, and relaxes a very little. He slowly backs up and opts to stay in the doorway, giving them space but nearby in case Jimmy needs or wants him. His presence somehow helps, calms Jimmy, who looks at the couch next to them. "Kevin," he mumbles into the larger man's shoulder. "Can you... can you help me over to the couch?"
Steen, pausing in his murmurs, nods, looking sheepish as he realizes that he's been standing in the middle of the living room, hugging Jimmy for the last few minutes. "Yeah, sure." Keeping a secure grip on him, he eases him over the few feet to the couch and settles him down on the cushions. "Is... are you ok?"
"Yeah," he mumbles, staring at his hands. He feels awkward, more than he ever had in the past. This, here, now, being with Kevin... it eats at him. Why, why. Why is he here now, what is going on... His lips pressed tightly together, he glances up to find Steen staring at him, his eyes earnest and deep. "What- why are you..." He's not even sure what he wants to ask, why he can't just spit the words out, how things have gotten to this level between them where he can't even say a sentence to his one-time best friend.
Kevin, for some reason, seems to understand the problem, resting a hand on Jimmy's shoulder, squeezing companionably. "Take it easy, Jimmy. Let me do the talking, huh?" Overwhelmed by it all, the Zombie Princess nods, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Neither pay attention to Steve, though they can sense him lurking around by the door, making sure Steen doesn't do something stupid to make this all worse for his younger tag partner. "I, um. I am so sorry," he finally says, his voice cracking slightly. When Jimmy looks up, shocked, he takes a deep breath, holding a hand up to stop whatever he may try saying at this. "I felt-... feel responsible for your injury. It is a piss poor excuse, I know, and doesn't make sense at all about why I've been avoiding you for the past few months, but it is what it is and someone more knowledgeable than I am pointed out that I was only hurting you even more by acting like this."
Both men look over at the third member of SCUM, a small smile appearing on Jimmy's face as he takes in the almost sheepish look on Steve's face, before Kevin continues to talk, each word seeming like a relief to him; Jimmy can't help but wonder how long exactly he'd been wanting to say these things and been unable to bring himself to. "So here I am, and, um. I'd like to help you continue to get on your feet... and um, maybe even resume SCUM once you're cleared to return to ROH. If you want me to, that is."
The decision is a hard one to come to terms on. On one hand, Kevin had been distancing himself from Jimmy for months, through the worst of his injury, only bothering to return to his life once he was starting to walk again, but... There's no lie that he and, to a slightly lesser extent, Steve had both been miserable without the third member of their group the past few months. Glancing uncertainly from Kevin to Steve, Jimmy takes a deep breath. I have to decide this for myself, he thinks vaguely, shifting gingerly. Not for Steve, not for Kevin. For my own sake. He looks up and smiles faintly, batting his eyes at Kevin in the overexaggerated fashion that only he could get away with. "I could never deny you anything, Kev," he teases, chuckling as the ROH champion's whole face lights up.
"You mean it? We're ok?"
Jimmy examines the hesitant relief in his eyes, the smile on his lips. He had learned a long time ago that everyone makes mistakes and, if he could've been given second, third, fourth chances, then who was he to refuse the same thing from Kevin, who, despite being one of the most tenacious men Jimmy had ever met, is still merely human and as prone to moments of weakness as the next guy? He finally smiles too, nodding. "Yeah. We're good." Kevin releases a breath so deep that Jimmy wonders for a moment if he'd been holding it since that horrible night when he'd hit that guard rail and everything had changed, throwing his arms around him and pulling him into a thorough bear hug, the kind that Jimmy had missed more than he'd realized. He laughs waveringly and looks over at Steve, who is still giving them space. "Steve... Get over here," he chokes out, gasping for breath when Kevin sheepishly releases him, settling on resting an arm across his shoulders like he used to do so often.
Steve laughs as Kevin apologizes again, joining them and sitting on the other side of Jimmy, throwing one of his arms around the younger man as well. He grins as his two closest friends sandwich him in between them, feeling better than he has in a really long time. He's not sure how long the rest of his recovery will take, but he's sure with both Steve and Kevin helping him, it'll go by in the blink of an eye.
Once he's able to stand and support his own weight for lengthier periods of time, mostly only keeping a cane around because he kind of thinks it makes him look sharp, color coordinating his jackets with each one, he resumes accompanying Kevin to ringside, amused to watch his friend's antics and catching bits of Steve on commentary when he gets close enough. It's one step closer to regaining his own wrestling career but he's content for now, the three of them traveling together once more, doing most everything as a group as it should've always been. He holds no bitterness towards Kevin, who had gone out of his way to help his recovery along after that night in Steve's house, even now taking time out of all of his responsibilities to help with the most recent set of exercises the rehab specialist had suggested for him.
He is a little nervous being out here, Steve keeping a close eye on him even through his commentary duties, especially since it's a rematch against Eddie Edwards. Even so, he keeps steady and does his very best not to show just how unsettled he really is, especially when the American Dragon looks down at him with a sneer. Kevin takes offense to this, however, and pulls him away roughly, screaming right in his face before clocking him solidly in the jaw. Jimmy swallows and watches the rest of the match, staying close to Steve for some of it, until the action gets too rough, Kevin blinded by whatever lingering anger he has towards his opponent that he's getting sloppy, risking a disqualification.
The referee is reprimanding Kevin when Jimmy inches closer to the ring, using his cane to trip a wandering Eddie who immediately turns to glare at him, heading for the ropes to confront him. Thankfully Kevin brushes off the referee, grabbing his rival and glancing over at Jimmy, who nods at him, hoping that he understands he's fine and just to focus on the match. He seems to catch on, headbutting Eddie before solidly getting back into the action, not losing an inch again.
Once Kevin wins, Jimmy rolls into the ring to celebrate with him as he had many a time in the past, grinning so hard that it almost hurts as the larger man rests his arm on his shoulder, muttering something to him that he just barely hears over the roar of the crowd. Even so, he guesses by the movement of the man's lips: "Welcome back, Jimmy."
It had been a long road, and he wasn't sure he'd ever make it this far, but he's so glad to be back home, where he belongs, with SCUM. His eyes gleaming with pleasure, he leans against the ROH champion and grins. "Thanks, Kevin."