A piece inspired by a friend, and delving into what could have been. This isn't meant to line up the events following The Blackgaard Chronicles, but departs. I apologize in advance for any typos or factual mistakes, I edited this as I wrote this and will probably re upload it sometime in the future if I remember to. Constructive criticism or any questions are appreciated, flaming is not. Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or Adventures in Odyssey itself. :(
EDIT: 3/10/18
Now, onto the story! I hope you enjoy!
Recovery was a slow process, Richard learned. During his time in the hospital, he heard the clichés over and over again, in the mornings when it was still instinctive to start up from the bed, and whenever someone had decided he was depressed.
"It's a marathon, not a sprint." The nurses spoke gently, and other variants of the same idea.
"One step at a time, hon. One day at a time." Doctor Morton reminded him.
"You don't want to undo your progress, Richard." The last one was said by Eugene, from his awkward perch on the edge of the cheap plastic chair provided, nearing the end of the former conman's stay. Richard frowned and continued to lean to the right, stretching out his unbroken arm as he sat on the bed.
"Of course not, Melstner, but I think I'm fine doing this. I don't want to get stiff, after all."
"How long will it be?" Eugene asked after a moment.
"Till' I'm let out of this place?" Richard clarified, and the other man nodded. "Release is slated for tomorrow morning." Not surprisingly, Eugene winced at his word choice.
"Richard…." He begun, but just then, Jack Allen appeared in the door, smiling brightly.
"Good morning Richard, Eugene. Uh, Eugene, may we have some privacy please?"
"Certainly!" He sprung up, and held up a hand awkwardly, as if to wave.
"See you around, multsey."
"Alright then." With sagging shoulders, Jack watched Eugene leave before settling in where Eugene had been, resting his chin upon the tips of his fingers. Richard instinctively inched back.
"How'd you like to stay with Jason and I?" Jack asked after a moment.
"Well, I'm already pretty well acquainted with the people who run the Odyssey Motel." Ridchard plastered a wide smile onto his face for effect.
"You're not acquainted well with us?" It was cold in the room, Richard rationalized, as he lifted the thin hospital blanket into his lap and focused on wrapping it around his arms, not looking at Jack.
"I can manage." Said Richard.
"Probably. But I'm pretty sure the Doctors don't want you to be alone."
"They wouldn't know." Richard mumbled, founding himself getting impatient. His emotions were closer to surface now in the wake of the accident, and while it had been getting better, it was still hard to put on an masked expression.
"Just for a few days, then we can figure out how to get you back on your feet. That's what you want, right?" Jack wasn't offering an opening, though.
"Just for a few days."
When the nurse had left him alone that night, he lay awake on his uninjured side, staring out at the window and fantasizing about slipping out and disappearing from town. It was only a fantasy, since he couldn't have attempted that with a broken arm, two fractured ribs, and a head that still ached.
Did he want to leave Odyssey behind, permanently? Where would he end up otherwise? He didn't belong in this town anyway after what he'd done.
In a sense, he would rather not do anything than have to feel shame, and regret, and the anxiety that came with starting over.
As soon as he was allowed the next morning, Richard was changing out of the striped hospital gown and into the clothes he was wearing when he came in. Until Jason came in. He froze for a second, then tossed a drawstring bag towards Richard.
"Jack thought you might to wear something different." Hanging back, he shrugged, and Richard realized he was waiting for a response.
"Oh. Thanks." He added as much enthusiasm as he could, turning away to hide the bruises along his side.
"Uh." Jason bit his lip, patted the doorframe. "Holler if you need anything."
Only a few minutes later, Connie was messing with the dial on the radio, Eugene was reading off the discharge papers, Jack was driving, and Richard was pillowed against the side of the car with his eyes closed.
"Miss Kendall, would you please stop that?"
"Stop what?"
"I doubt Richard finds the proof of your indecisiveness to be stimulating in the least." Eugene retorted. The music turned off for a second, and someone breathed a sigh of relief. Though he wanted to laugh at the use of the word stimulating, Richard found the silence a little stiffening. He braved their attention and pried his eyes open.
"It's fine, really." He said, and Jack glanced towards him in the rearview mirror, eyebrows knitted together. "Nice to have something other than squeaky carts and fussy patients to listen to." After hesitating for a second, Connie flicked it on, although this time, lowering the volume.
It was more chaotic than probably intended, and in the end Richard found himself in the guest room. Jack had brought in a stack of books to read, in the case where he would be up to it, and Jason had cleared out the stately old dresser of its belongings.
"I'm not going to be here long." Richard said. Jason only shrugged.
"It was time this got done anyways." Richard suddenly felt self conscious standing in the Whittaker's house, living there as an invalid.
"Do you like Robert Louis Stevenson?" Jack was asking, his face obscured by something he was reading.
"Huh?" Richard said.
"Robert Louis Stevenson?"
"The one who wrote about Pirates? A true renaissance man." Richard nodded, and Jack quirked a smile. After a moment, the doorbell rang below and Jason was quick to respond.
"That's probably Tom, I'll let him in." When Jason left, Richard was struck with the need to fill the silence.
"Thanks for sending Jason to bring those clothes by."
"What clothes?'
"This morning, when I was packing up."
"I didn't ask him to do anything." Jack said, just as Tom gave a light rap on the outer wall.
"G'morning you two. Richard! You certinaly look better than the last time I saw you." He chuckled nervously. Jack found it continent to check on the amount of milk in the fridge.
The weathered looking farmer was there to apologize, again. Richard tried his best to be polite, to be receiving, but exhaustion soon had him rubbing at his face and found Tom to start shuffling his feet.
"I better get back to the farm now."
"Sorry, didn't mean to keep you so long." Richard said.
"You didn't. It's fine."
"Well...uh. Have a good afternoon, then. I'll try an' see you tomorrow. If you don't mind." Tom added hastily. Richard only raised his shoulders in what was intended to be a shrug.
During the following days, Jack and Jason alternated between working at Whit's End and staying home. Occasionally Connie, Eugene, even Tom would drop by. Life consisted of patience and weariness, and Richard spent a lot of time wondering why they were putting up with him. On the first Sunday, he could barely get out of bed, with his side raging.
"I'll get the pain medication." Jason slipped from the room, Jack wondered out loud if he had fallen in the night.
"I don't think so." Richard gasped. This was embarrassing.
"Hmm." Jack brought his hand up to his face, in concentration. "Do you mind...if I take a look under the bandages?"
"Be my guest." There really wasn't another option, he figured, and as the pain intensified he reached out, clamping his mouth shut. Underneath the clean white linen, his skin was flushed pink. Jack said a quick prayer under his breath.
"Looks like an infection of some sort?" Richard grimaced. "Were there any scrapes or lacerations you received in the fall? Richard?"
"A few, I guess."
"Jason?!"
They ended up taking him to the Emergency Room, Jack demanding he be seen in a civil, repectful manner only Jack could manage. Surprisingly, the doctors were quick to offer up a proposed solution and sound advice before asking whether or not he'd like to be admitted.
"No." Richard said fiercly. "I'll be fine." Jack looked dubious.
"Are you sure? Think of your health."
"Listen, I don't think I can stand being here any longer than I already have been. I'm not in any immediate danger."
"That is true." Doctor Morton said, and Richard was about to hop off the examination table when she continued. "You're still in recovery mind, and I can tell you haven't been sleeping well. If your symptoms do worsen, I want you back here. Is that understood?"
He woke periodically. The first several times, Richard was sleeping soundly, and then around the break of dawn he was startled awake. Jack stood, his back complaining loudly, wincing a bit as his bare feet touched the cold floor. Slowly, he turned the corner, and had to squint in the dim light the bathroom light gave. All the blankets in the guest bed had been shoved to one side of the bed, and a pillow lay on the floor.
And Richard, the perpetrator of it all. Tangled in the sheets, one hand gripping at his hair, he lay trembling.
Jack stepped forward, cautiously, and squatted besides the younger man.
"Richard. Richard, come on now, wake up lad." He said in urgency, watching Richard's face in the pale light, a small moan escaped his lips. "Richard. Richard!"
"Please." The man whispered, moving his hand downward and across his eyes. "Please don't send me back." Jack was stunned. Was Richard talking about...the Campbell County Detention College? Was that it?
"Richard, no one's sending you back. Okay?" He rested his hand on Richard's forehead and instantly felt warmth radiating.
"Sorry." Jack breathed deeply, taking time to asses Richard's state. He hoped the delirum was only caused by his fever and not a relapse. Belatadly, he heard a noise in the hall.
"Jason? Is that you?" After waiting a minute, Jack stood up, only to have Richard take hold of his arm with greater strength than could be expected. "Richard, Richard."
"Please." Richard said. Jack slowly wrenched himself from his grip, if rather reluctantly, to retrieve a bowl and cold bottle of water from the kitchen. He spent the next few minutes attempting to cool Richard down, while having a one way conversation.. When it was apparent he was wasn't waking up easily, Jack flicked a switch on the lamp, and went in search of a thermometer.
Although he sprinted back moments later hearing the sound of glass shattering.
"Richard!" He had sitten up, and the bowl Jack brought in lay in dozens of small pieces on the carpeted floor. He looked at Jack, dazed.
"...Happened?"
"It's okay. You're running a fever."
"The glass...I-I'm sorry. Sorry for e-everything" He coughed out. Jack shook his head and bent to begin cleaning.
"Jason!?"
Not long after, the two had swept up the mess and straightened the bed sheets when a yawn escaped Jason.
"Why don't you go to bed?" Jack had said softly, and after arguing with him a bit, Jason finally relented, probably because he worried he was adding chaos. Though for whatever reason, Jack knew he needed the rest. Satisfied with that matter, he turned back to Richard, shivering violently, his knees drawn to his chest.
"Just go on." He breathed. "Don't waste your time here."
"What?"
"Richard." Jack seemed to understand. He set a warm hand down on Richard's shoulder. "You don't have to do anything to earn our forgiveness. Trust, yes, and you have already found it."
"Have I?" He asked softly, his eyes burning.
"You risked your life to save Lucy, and warn us all of Blackgaard's plans." Jack said seriously, smiling gently. Richard suddenly felt embarrassed to be sitting there, starting to cry. He waited for an interruption.
And still was waiting when Jack reached forward and enveloped, even if his breath was hitching in his chest, and his face was damp.
Three days later he had graduated to sleeping on the couch in the living room, if only because of his own stubborn volition.
On the fourth day he finally took a step out into the yard, where Jason was raking up leaves, wearing a thick brown jacket to ward off the wind.
"Hey man." He grinned. "You must be feeling better."
"A lot better actually, thanks. Do you need any help with that?" Richard said, gesturing towards the messy pile.
"Nah, I think I got it."
"Is there anything I can do? Maybe tidy up the kitchen or help Eugene with -"
"The kitchen isn't tidy?" Richard fell silent, remembering seeing Jason work in there that morning. Suddenly a strong breeze swept in and shook up Jason's pile. He made a face.
"This is criminal." He muttered. "Hey, you want a drink? It's the perfect weather."
"Whatever you say." Richard said, and Jason dashed into the house to return minutes later with two cold amber bottles, before sitting on the step and holding one out to Richard, who regarded it carefully. "Never took you as the drinking type."
"It's Root Beer."
"Ah. Thanks." After a moment he slowly moved besides Jason, his left leg sprawled out onto the grass. The two sat in silence for a while, then Jason looked away.
"How are you doing?"
"As well as can be expected. Or something like that." He took a swig. "Thanks for...everything else too."
"I really didn't do anything. It was more Jack's doing. He's good like that." Jason said, nodding. For a moment he chewed on his lip.
"I wish Mr. Whittaker was here." Richard said softly. Jason patted him on the back.
"You and me both, man, but honestly..."
"Boys? I have a pizza almost ready to come out of the oven. You two hungry?" Jack was asking through the window. Richard nodded.
"Thanks Mr. Allen, we'll be up in a second. Jace?"
"I've done some things I'm not proud of myself, is all I wanted to say, and Jack has a way of reminding me I've been redeemed."
"Hm. That's a concept."
"It's rosemary." A salty, savory smell awoke Richard to two distinguishable voices.
"Hmm. I thought so."
"That doesn't answer my question." Richard cracked open an eye, and after rubbing at his eyelids, was able to see clearly.
"Oops, I think I woke him up." Jason said from not too far.
"It could be the light."
"Pretty sure it was that sweet aroma." Richard contributed to the conversation, swallowing to soothe his dry throat.
"Richard!" Said Jason brightly. "Top of the morning to you!"
Quickly, Richard shifted onto his side to get a view of the kitchen. Leaning against the counter, Jason was flipping a pale yellow disc over a frying pan, and wearing a wrinkled sweatshirt.
"Did I miss something?"
"Only Jason setting the smoke alarm off." Teased Jack.
"You mean the smoke alarm malfunctioned."
"Call it what you will." Jack shook his head, though there was a fondness in his grey eyes. "Are you hungry Richard?"
They only had a few moments to eat together before Jack and Richard left, and those were spent skirting the nature of the situation, it seemed. Richard wondered if the two were doing it unintentionally, or in hopes of lightening the mood. He had been far too quiet last night, thinking about what Jason said.
"You want another omelette?" Jason asked, Jack had vanished from the room. Richard glanced down at the last bit of food on his plate.
"I...no, thank you." With a shrug, the other man responded by saying something Richard didn't catch, and gathering the dishes in the crook of his arm.
"You okay?"'
"Yeah. I need to go straighten up...before…" He was still having a hard time finishing his sentences, but Jason nodded anyways.
Richard wandered off until he was standing in front of the bathroom mirror.
They had cut his hair too short. It had become shaggy and oily when he was in a coma, but now it was cropped above his ears and it made him look younger. His face was narrower, and eyes sunken in his skull. Up until this point he had avoided mirrors, and now since once again he was offering himself to the world he couldn't afford to. Jack was taking him around town, to look for any businesses that were hiring.
"You ready?" Richard froze, not hearing Jack approach. Was he ready? He glanced at his silver tie and straightened it unnecessarily, in a roundabout way of avoiding eye contact. "Richard?"
"What if...they're not?" Ready. Jack let out a deep breath.
"I can talk with them if you want."
"No!" Richard said in exclamation, then regretted it. "I got to prove myself."
"You can try. But you don't need to. What else would you do anyways? I can't push you to do anything, heaven knows that. But you shouldn't worry about redeeming yourself after what happened. More importantly, Jesus is the only one who can redeem us, who can save us, if we let him." Richard was quiet for a minute.
"Mr. Allen?"
Thank you for anyone who took the time to read this. :) I'd love to know what you thought.