NOTE: Please r&r. It's my first published funfic. Constructive critisizm greatly appreciated.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Girardis family, or any events that occured with them.
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RIGHT AFTER - by YANNIK
No pain.
That was his first thought. And then another - why should there be pain?
What happened?
He was flying. Floating. There was no other comparison he could find, to how he was feeling. He wasn't touching anything. It must have been a dream. All with that ridiculous classical music coming from someplace... He wanted to turn his head, to look around, to know where he was, what was around...
Then there were voices "Can you open your eyes? Hundred over sixty! Do you feel any pain? What happened to him? Please tell me something! Pulse hundred and ten. Step away, let paramedics work! Can you open your eyes? Kevin? Can you feel that? How much did you drink? Take him to the ER, he'd be checked. Kevin? Can you hear me? No response. Glasgow five. Let's go." Then beeping. At heart rate. "My heart?" he thought. "Must be mine? Why?" He opened his eyes. At least he tried to. There were faces, people dressed in yellow, some blood marks, voices again, that he couldn't differ. "He's waking up. Kevin can you hear me? Kevin look at me." At who? Picture dazed, faces fell into one yellow-pinkish maze. "BP's dropping! Pulse ox eighty five. Intu..." And dad's worried face. "Why does mom think he's so darn handsome?" Dad said something, but it didn't register with Kevin. His face subtly changed into one of his mom.
"Kevin? Honey?"
And again it was dad. Just looking. Then he disappeared, and Kevin could see... What was that? Squares? Was he lying or standing? He couldn't feel his body - it was funny feeling.
"Kevin?" Again he heard his mother's voice coming from the side. He wanted to turn his head, but he couldn't. Instead his mom appeared before his eyes. He wanted to say something, but could barely open his mouth. As if they were glued. "It's okay sweetheart." She turned and moved out of his sight for a moment. "You're not allowed to drink, but I will moisture your lips. Don't' worry. Easy." Something cold touched his lips and he tasted water. Yeah, that's better. He realized he was thirsty, so he sucked a little, but she took - whatever she was holding there - away.
"Ma..."
"Shhh." She placed her finger on his lips. "We'll talk later. Rest now."
He saw dad again. And he felt pain. In his neck. Must have grimaced, 'cause dad called somebody, and a woman appeared, and adjusted something at the tube hanging above Kevin. In a moment pain was gone.
No pain. Why should there be pain?
He tried to remember.
There was supposed to be a game. He was supposed to go there with Andy, but dad made them clean up the garage first. He was pretty sure they did that, but... he was confused...
"Kevin?" Dad was worried. His voice, his eyes were worried. Why?
"Phhhat..." Kevin really couldn't talk. His lips, and his tongue were dry as paper. Again he felt that cold, wet something, and sucked quickly. But dad took it away. Kevin wanted to grab him by the wrist, but couldn't move his hand... couldn't feel it... "Mo..." he whispered, and dad understood. He let him suck some more. Kevin closed his eyes.
When he opened them, there was his mother over him again. He was getting really uneasy. She wasn't looking at him however. She was talking to some gray-haired man in glasses, and white robe.
"Swelling is subsiding already. But we must wait" the man said.
Mom looked down. Deep, profound worry on her face diminished into warm smile. But her eyes remained teary.
"Kevin, honey." A hand appeared before Kevin's eyes, and he felt her stroke his forehead. That was intense. He could feel them touching his lips with that wet cloth, he could feel their hands on his hair so intensely. But he couldn't feel anything more. As if nothing touched his hands, his body, his legs... Nothing... He freaked.
Beeping that he subconsciously heard all the time slowed rapidly, and he felt darkness creep over him. He got scared. No, not scared - terrified! "Mom!" He tried to scream, but he knew, that nothing escaped his mouth. He wasn't even able to open them. "Mom, please!" he thought. That was all he could do. He felt a hand touching his face. "Kevin! Kevin, open your eyes. Kevin, can you hear me? Open your eyes!" male voice demanded. Kevin struggled. Struggled really heard. He felt tears streaming down his temples, but he couldn't open his eyes. He just couldn't! "Kevin! Try! I know you can hear me - you must open your eyes." Okay. Again. Another try. He saw three faces above him, one of them upside-down. None of them familiar.
"Mom..." he whispered. That was an effort.
"She's right there" someone said, but Kevin couldn't see anymore. He could only listen.
"Kevin, sweetheart!" his mom was pleading. Crying. She touched his fingers very delicately, and then she stroked his face again. "Kevin, please... Look at me."
He tried, tried really hard, and managed to open his eyes for a moment yet. Just to meet her gaze. Her eyes welling up. He managed a weak smile, and fell into darkness. Just before that, he realized that beeping was at normal rate again.
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Soft, very soft, featherlike touch on his palm, woke him up. Who was that? He still couldn't turn his head.
"Mo..." he tried to whisper, but his lips weren't listening to him yet.
"Kevin?" Indeed it was mom. She raised before him. "Baby?" her eyes were weary, her hair tight up in the back. He saw her sometimes in the morning, or in the evening, not wearing any make up. She wasn't wearing any now. "Do you need?... me to moisture your lips?"
"Ye..."
Why the touch of the wet cloth was so intense, and the touch on his hand was barely registable. And what about all the rest?...
"Touch my hand" he whispered. Or so he thought. But mom understood.
She gazed him fearfully for a moment, and touched him lightly.
"Harder." There wasn't much difference. "Harder."
"Later honey." She touched his forehead again and that he felt.
"What's happening?" He asked looking into her eyes. Not really wanting to know the answer.
"Later honey."
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Later they did some neurological tests. Many neurological tests. They were poking at his neck, and his hands. And somewhere else too, but he couldn't feel that. Then they moved him to another room, and Joan and Luke started visiting him. Mom, dad, Joan, Luke. Mom, dad, Joan, Luke. And so on. Faces. Voices. Then they made him get up. Actually they got him up, cause he didn't make any move at all. And as he realized he was being seated - he fainted. But they came again the next day, and the next one, and the next. And he wasn't fainting anymore. For a long while he couldn't move his hands, but they told him about those exercises, and he tried them. He tried really hard. The hardest he could. Mom was there almost all the time. And he never saw her cry - save for that one time earlier, when he fell into darkness. He tried not to remember what freaked him at first. He tried not to think at all. But it was impossible, was it?
"Mom?"
"Yes, honey?"
"How long..." he hesitated "have I been here?"
"Uh... It will be three weeks soon."
"Three weeks..."
They both remained silent for a while. She waited for him to speak. So he spoke. He had to... finally ask that... right?
"What happened?"
"You had an accident" she said very, very softly.
An accident. People have accidents, and then... sometimes... Pictures run through his head: people in dark glasses, and with white canes; people on crutches; people in wheelchairs. He felt cold sweat on his forehead. And large, really large lump in his throat.
"Kevin?"
He didn't really hear her. Clenched his palms in fists and released them. Couple of times. Clenched and released. Then he rose his hands so he could see them. He could see them move the way he wanted. Yes, he could.
Then he tried, he really tried to move his legs. He really tried. Really.
"Kevin..."
He heard someone sobbing, and it took him a moment to realize he heard himself. He was crying.
"Kevin."
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Next days were undistinguishable. He didn't speak to anyone, he even stopped making exercises for his hands. What for? But the reality was coming to him more and more clear, as his recovery progressed. Recovery! That was supposed to be recovery?
"Will I walk again?" he asked the doctor finally, during one of the visits. That needed to be said once in for all. Clearly.
"I'm sorry. Your back was fractured in three places, and..."
"I don't need that. Just simple yes or no. Will I walk?"
"No."
No. Loud and clear.
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