"Just try Hodgins. Please. For me." Angela's voice was pleading. She didn't even try to hide the fear in her voice any more.

I find it hard to look her in the eye. Her eyes are always filled with unfallen tears. Or sometimes they are trickling down her cheek. I find myself staring at them. Shiny, clear orbs. They get dragged out of shape as they are pulled down her face by gravity. They reach the curve of her jaw and sometimes they just cling there, unwilling to let go and drop. But they always do.

"Jack?"

Her voice broke through my thoughts.

"I can't Angie. You know I can't. I've tried. You've seen. I can't" My voice sounds whiney. I hate that. Sometimes I don't have control over that either.

I can feel her staring at me. Big dark brown eyes. Almost black. In the right light, they are like a mirror. I can see myself in them. Not today though. Her tears are distorting my image. But I kind of like it. That's how I feel. Distorted.

The PT guys are standing either side of me, holding me by my upper arms. Their fingers are digging into my biceps as they hold me up. Trying to make me stand. But, as usual, my body is refusing to comply. These things that used to be my legs are useless logs of flesh and bone with no inner strength.

The swelling in my spine, caused by the explosion that Aubrey and I were caught in, really did a number on me. The specialists keep telling me that they are hopeful that this won't be permanent. I nod and smile. Well, it's more like a grimace. A smile. A true smile, would require some sort of emotion. I don't have much of that left in me. All I seem to have now is a black hole. I don't really feel much of anything these days. And that scares Angie to death. She sees that I'm not the man she married. She doesn't know who I am any more.

Hell, I don't know who I am any more.

"I'm going to have to go and pick up Michael Vincent from Brennan's." she says.

"OK"

"Do you want to see him today? I can drive back with him. He really misses you Jack." her voice trails off, waiting for some response.

I managed a shrug. But it isn't enough. It's never enough.

"Jack! I asked you if you want to see your son. He misses his Dad!"

I force myself to look at her "I don't know what you want me to say. If you want to drive all the way there and then back, I can't stop you."

It's not what she wants to hear, but I don't know what else to say. At some point I have to see him. I guess I want to. He is my son. I just.

"Are you sure he will be able to handle this? Me?" My hands were supposed to point to my legs, but they just dropped down by the wheels of the monstrosity I was perched in.

"Jack. Sweetie. He won't care about the chair, OK? I've told him that for now. For now, you need it. Until your legs get better." Her voice stumbled over that last sentence. I think I smiled.

"OK"

She kisses my cheek. Then my forehead. She hasn't kissed me on the lips since I woke up. She kisses me like she kisses Michael Vincent. I guess she thinks I'm acting like a child, so she's going to treat me like one. I don't like it. I want her to kiss me like my wife. Like a woman. I want her tongue in my mouth. I want to see if I can. If my body. I want. I want to feel like a man.

"Daddy!"

My sons arms wrap around me. It feels good. I wasn't sure I wanted him here. But now I'm glad. I look up and see her standing by the door. She's smiling. And crying, again. She turns to leave.

"Angie? Where are you going?"

"I'm giving you some time with your son. Talk to him Hodgins. Just talk to your boy."

I feel my heart start to beat hard in my chest. Without hesitation, my arms wrap around the small boy. I pull him close and lift him up onto my lap and hold him. I just hold him.

"So will you have to ride around in this chair forever Dad? Can you take me to school in it? That would be so cool. Nobody else has a dad in a wheelchair."

His high voice chattering away. A series of hypothetical situations we might find ourselves in when I come home.

When I go home. I haven't actually even considered that. Home. I tried to picture home. It really isn't set up for me. This. The chair. I feel my head shaking from side to side.

"I'm not sure when I'll be able to come home Michael Vincent. It might be a while yet."

He frowns at me. God he looks like his mother. So much like her. "Mom said the Doctors said you could come home in a week or two. That's not that long. "

"Well. We'll see."

He jumps off my lap and looks down at me, his hands are gripping the arms of the chair "Mom said we will have to change stuff at home. She had some man come over and he was measuring the doors. And I'm going to move into a different room so you can have mine."

"What? No! Why are you changing rooms" This isn't right. What man forces their child out of their bedroom?

"It's fine Dad. I'm going to move into the attic room upstairs. It's great! I have so much room up there. Mom said I can set it up any way I want. And my Scalextric car track can be set up all the time! No more packing it up! That is so cool!"

His face is glowing. His eyes sparkling. He's happy. I'm pretty sure he's more excited about moving rooms than me coming home. Can't say I blame him. I'm not exactly going to be fun Dad any more. And how the hell is Angie going to cope. God, I hope she's not thinking of quitting her job to stay home and look after me? I couldn't bear it. I'll. I'll admit myself to an institution rather than have that happen.

"Don't you want to come home Dad? You look sad" His voice bringing me back to the conversation.

I hug him. He needs to be hugged. "Sure I do. I'm just not sure I'm ready son. But I'll see what the doctors say. I'll let them decide when I'm able to come home. Why is Mom measuring the doors?"

Of course I know why. She's going to have them widened. She knows that a wheelchair won't fit through them easily. And Michael Vincent's bedroom is big. Bigger than our bedroom. Her bedroom now. Does this mean she isn't going to share a bed with me? Am I not man enough for her anymore? Am I even a man? I don't even know. Nothing has moved. Not even a little. Not even when they gave me those magazines. Nothing. I can't even control when I urinate. They say that might come back. But until then, I have to wear these stupid diapers. Either that, or they will insert a catheter. God I hope I don't have to have that. Then again. It would be easier than having someone changing me like a baby. God I hate this so much. I hate it. I hate it.

"I hate it"

"Dad?"

He looks scared.

"Nothing."

Thankfully, she comes through the door at that moment.

"Hi guys. Are you having a nice visit?"

I have to ask her. "So. You're having the house remodelled?"

Her face just flushed. Guess she didn't want to tell me yet.

"Well. I have to start preparing for when you come home sweetie. The doors. Well, they're way to narrow for. They need widening. And I'm moving our bed into Michael Vincent's old room. I know we agreed that we wanted him to have the bigger room, but it's not going to work now. And he loves the idea of living up in the attic."

I'm trying not to sound argumentative. "Isn't he a little young to be sleeping on the floor above us?"

She's smiling. Her arms are around me. "He's plenty old enough. It's not the next block. It's upstairs. And we'll be together. I'm going to have our room converted into a physiotherapy room for you. I've ordered some exercise equipment, so your therapist can come to you, rather than you having to come here to the hospital" Her lips are pressing against mine. Her lips. Finally. I open my mouth slightly. I want to taste her. And she's gone.

"I'm really excited about it Jack. It's going to be wonderful. We'll be together. Like a proper family again. I'm moving some things around. I've ordered a new sofa. A smaller one to make room for your. For you to get around easily."

She can't say it. "For my wheelchair. It's OK to say it Angie. We both better get used to it. I'm going to be in it for a long time. Maybe forever"

"Don't!"

Her arms are around me again, her face pressed into my neck. I hold her close to me.

"Don't say that Jack. Not out loud. You don't know that"

I need to breathe. She's holding me so tight. I have to gently push her off me.

"We need to consider it. It's a possibility. I'm not saying I'm resigned to it" I am. "I'm just saying, let's not live in denial about this."

Her head is shaking. Her mouth is opening and closing.

"It's OK Angie."

"No. It's not"

She's crying again.

I can't deal.

She's right. It's really not OK.