Quick notes: This chapter took forever to write, and I'm really, really sorry about that! Writing Scarlett turned out to be a lot harder than I expected! Huge thanks goes out to Green Rainboots, without whom I would probably still be pulling my hair out at the first sentence. So, yes, thank you forever and ever.

November 13, 2010

~Hands are the heart's landscape~

Usually when Aaron wakes up, he's awake and completely aware of his surroundings the minute he opens his eyes. Not like Jackson, who takes forever to become even remotely coherent in the morning. This time when he wakes up, the only thing he's aware of is a sweet, expensive smell that's definitely perfume and definitely not his mum's perfume. Which confuses him, because why is there perfume in his room? It's making his head hurt. Of course, the fact that he's mostly bothered by it because it makes his head hurt should probably tell him something, but he's a little busy being distracted by the perfume and his pounding head to focus on things like that.

"Oh, Aaron, come on, get up, it's nearly noon," says a voice that is very familiar and very, very female. Aaron can't place it, and he doesn't feel like opening his eyes. Why should he? His head feels like it's splitting open, and whoever that girl is, her perfume is only making it worse. Why should he do anything she says? "Aaron! For heaven's sake." She sounds annoyed, but almost fondly so, and it makes him frown. Not a lot of people sound like that when they're talking to him. It's enough to make him open his eyes, blink against the bright sunlight from his windows, until her face comes into focus.

"Scarlett," he moans, rolling over on his side and hiding his face. "What're ya doin' here?" The insides of his mouth taste like molten cheese or something equally disgusting, and he smacks his lips. It doesn't go away.

"I'm trying to get you out of bed, you idiot," Scarlett answers. Now she just sounds fond, which, it's much too early for Aaron's brain to even begin attempting to process that. Or why she's there, trying to get him out of bed, when he's been out with her boyfriend for a night of getting absolutely bladdered. "Now get up. Paddy's making you both breakfast. You've got ten minutes, or I'm getting you dressed myself," Scarlett warns him, and then she pulls off her duvet and there's the sound of his door opening and closing behind her.

Aaron spends a good while plotting the many ways he can get back at her for stealing his duvet, but by the time his brain actually starts working enough for any of those plans to be at all sensible, he realizes that Scarlett said both, that Paddy's making them both breakfast, and, what? Who's the other? He hasn't—? If he's screwed up again, he doesn't think Jackson will take him back, he wouldn't deserve it, either.

He's alone. His room is empty, and he's still dressed. Well, mostly. He's got socks and his sweater on, but he seems to be missing his trousers, which would've been embarrassing if his head didn't still hurt like hell. He holds his head in his hands, clutching tightly and breathing through his nose. He feels sick all of a sudden. He really hates being hung-over.

By the time Aaron drags his sorry arse downstairs, Adam's had two aspirin and seven cups of coffee, and he still feels like rubbish. He is never getting drunk again. Ever.

Aaron looks like he's just stumbled out of bed and pulled on the first thing he found, and he's rubbing at his face and looks about as miserable as Adam feels. Which Adam doesn't think is fair, because he only feels this good because of painkillers and caffeine, and Aaron hasn't had either yet. He doesn't remember drinking more than Aaron, so the bastard must've been putting on a show. Of course, there is also a chance that Aaron simply stopped drinking sometime after two o'clock, because Adam can't remember anything after going to the third club.

He is never getting drunk again. Ever.

At least Scarlett isn't mad, he thinks. She keeps throwing him glances and biting her lower lip, like she's trying very hard not to burst out laughing. It makes Adam feel all fluttery inside, which is infinitely better than feeling like something the cat dragged in, ate and spat back out, but it doesn't make him feel quite as good as the delicious smells emanating from the stove in front of Paddy.

Aaron all but falls into the chair next to Adam's. He glares at the table, like it's offended him personally. "Next time you need someone to drink with, ask someone else. I'm never, ever getting drunk again," he mumbles, barely audible.

"Yeah, you and me both, mate," Adam answers.

There's an amused, somewhat disbelieving snort from Scarlett's direction. Aaron fixes her with a scathing glare, and Adam wants to match it, but he looks at her grinning face and it melts away. He needs to work on that. Probably. He doesn't think too much about it, because Paddy chooses that moment to put a plate with eggs and bacon and toast and sausages in front of him, and, honestly, that's a lot more important than trying to work out how to be able to glare at his girlfriend.

He's chewing away happily, lost in his own world, when Aaron says, "Oy!" in a voice that's proper annoyed. On pure instinct, Adam looks up at the sound. Paddy is holding Aaron's plate of breakfast just out of reach, and Aaron looks torn between going off on one or getting up and simply taking the plate out of Paddy's hands. "What're you playing at? Give me my breakfast, Paddy."

"Are you going to see Jackson later?" Paddy asks, still holding the plate just out of Aaron's reach.

"I only saw him yesterday," Aaron answers. Adam sees Paddy's brown furrowing and he thinks, wrong answer. Aaron sees it too, Adam can tell in the way his shoulders slump and his jaw clenches. "Give it a rest, Paddy, I feel like shit. He won't want to see me like this anyway," Aaron says. He sounds angry, and even in the haze of his hangover, Adam gets ready to jump up, just in case. Across the table, Scarlett looks like someone who isn't quite sure what's going on, or how she should be reacting to it.

"It's not Jackson's fault you went out and got drunk last night, so he shouldn't have to pay for it," Paddy insists. It's pretty solid logic, to Adam, but even he, as Aaron's best mate, can't always understand Aaron's logic, so he doesn't think it matters. "You should be there for him. He needs all the help he can get right now." There's a short pause, and then Paddy continues, "Being in a relationship means that sometimes, you have to be do things that you don't feel like doing." He sounds uncertain as he says it, like he isn't sure how Aaron'll react, and Adam honestly thinks this is too much going on too early in the morning.

He gulps down some more coffee, just as Aaron slumps further down in his seat and looks thoughtful. Paddy hands him his breakfast, but he doesn't touch it. Adam punches his shoulder, just because he can. "I'll be thinking of you, when I'm sat under my blanket and watching telly," he smirks, and Aaron shoots him a look that could kill a lesser man. Or a man less used to being around Aaron and his death glares.

"Oh, no, you won't," Scarlett interjects cheerfully. Adam looks at her. He isn't sure what she means. She's smiling a deceptively innocent smile that Adam knows means she's up to something. "You'll be going with him," she says. "Jackson's your mate, isn't he? Besides," she shrugs her shoulders slightly and toys with a lock of hair that's gone loose from her ponytail, "I haven't been to see him yet, and I thought we might as well go today."

Adam gapes at her. Aaron punches his shoulder. "I'll be thinking of you," he quips, "when we put on 24 at the hospital and force you to watch it." Adam gapes at him. He hates 24. It's absolute rubbish, and he doesn't understand why everyone else loves it so much. Aaron knows as much, as well, and, oh. Aaron's a prat. Scarlett is giggling like mad, and Adam glances up at the ceiling and sends one last, longing thought to his sofa back at the farm. He is never getting drunk again. Ever.

Taking the bus to the hospital with two blokes who are hung-over and sulking is not Scarlett's idea of a good time. Aaron whines about the bumpy ride for a long while, saying it's messing with his head, until Adam has enough and snarks that being gay's made Aaron more, well, gay. Scarlett winces even before Aaron punches Adam's shoulder, because that's just about the worst thing anyone could say to Aaron, and when Adam punches back, Scarlett breathes a sigh of relief that the bus is stopping. Before things get too rowdy and out of control, she drags them both outside and squeezes in between them, lacing an arm through one of each of theirs and effectively keeping them apart.

Jackson eyes them strangely when they walk into his hospital room. "What's going on here?" he asks. Scarlett isn't sure what he's referring to—if it's the fact that they're all visiting him without notice, or that she's got a grip on both Adam and Aaron. From the way he's quirking an eyebrow at Aaron, she thinks it's probably the latter. She glances first at Aaron, who still looks pissed off, and then at Adam, who just looks tired. Jackson seems to notice as well, because he looks at Scarlett and asks, "Why do they both look like death?"

She lets go of them and starts pulling off her jacket. "They're hung-over," she explains.

Jackson snorts. "Suits you right," he says, looking at Aaron again. "For going out clubbing without me."

Aaron rolls his eyes. "Whatever," he says. He's softening up, as though Jackson's presence is a calming influence on him, and Scarlett hasn't been around Aaron and Jackson enough to really understand what Adam means when he says that Jackson is the best thing that's ever happened to Aaron, but she thinks maybe she understands now, seeing the way Aaron puts a hand on the railing next to Jackson's left hand and smiles down at him. "How are you?" he asks, casual and worried all at the same time. Jackson lifts his arms and picks up a book from the bedside table. He doesn't say anything, but Aaron still looks like Christmas came early. Scarlett wants to squeal a little.

"If you two get any more cutesy, I may have to start calling you ladies," Adam says cheerfully.

"And that's coming from you," Aaron retorts, and Scarlett is relieved to see all the venom gone from their jabs at each other. "You can't even go out for a night out without going off about how much you miss Scarlett."

Adam blushes deep red and avoids looking at her. Scarlett laughs, and Aaron looks incredibly smug. And in the middle of it all is Jackson, and Scarlett sees the way he's looking thoughtfully at Aaron and Adam insulting each other. There's something almost sad about him, and Scarlett thinks it must either be her female intuition, or it's so obvious that both Aaron and Adam should've picked up on it by now as well. When they don't, she pokes Adam in the side and says, "Go get us a cup of coffee, sweetie." Adam looks hesitant for a moment, so she adds, with a smile, "You can take Aaron with you if you want. Heaven forbid your very mature conversation should be interrupted."

"I'm not going," Aaron says.

"Go on," Jackson smiles. "I'll still be here when you get back."

It takes a few minutes of loitering at the door and more good-natured banter from both of them, but Adam and Aaron finally leave, and Scarlett pulls over a chair to sit next to Jackson's bed. Jackson looks like he's not sure what to say to her, and Scarlett realizes that the two of them haven't actually been alone together before. Or even spent much time together at all, which is a bit odd, since their boyfriends are best mates and everything. She touches Jackson's hand gently. "So, how are you doing?" she asks.

"Better, I suppose," Jackson replies. It's not really an answer, but it's enough for Scarlett. She knows what's wrong with him.

"You know you'll walk again, yeah?" she says. Jackson looks away from her, and she squeezes his hand tightly. "Aaron hasn't stopped going on about how much you've improved already. I know it sucks that you're stuck here and he's out partying with Adam, but you'll be out there with them in no time. Just wait and see."

The smile on Jackson's face is small and genuine. "I hope you're right," he says. He still sounds a little sad, and Scarlett wonders how much of a front he puts up in front of his mum and Aaron. How much he hides from them to make them happy. It makes her feel oddly protective of him. "I just—" Jackson trails off, almost as if he's just realized that he's pretty much spilling his guts to someone he doesn't even know that well. Scarlett does her best to look trustworthy. She's always thought of herself as a very trustworthy person, so she doesn't think it's that hard. "I can't help thinking that something could go wrong."

Scarlett is, by nature, a cheerful person. That's just who she is. She's not very good at serious, emotional stuff, because it always makes her feel so awkward. Whenever one of her brothers have needed cheering up—which has been often, because bad things seem to follow Jimmy and Carl around like the plague—she's always made them think about something else, made them laugh. So she doesn't really know what to say to Jackson now, except, "Tell you what? If you stop worrying so much, I'll tell you stories about Aaron from when he first arrived."

"What, back when he was all hard?" Jackson jokes.

"He wasn't that hard," Scarlett replies. She can see an interested spark in Jackson's eyes. "Did he ever tell you about the time Victoria Sugden went through the ice up at Home Farm lake?"

Physical therapy used to hurt mentally, because he was telling himself to move and he couldn't, and he could see people touching him but he couldn't feel it. It was awful and terrifying and always ended with Jackson wanting to cry and hide in his mum's warm arms or burrow into Aaron's strong chest, and he never could. He never thought it could actually hurt more than that, but it does. It really, really does, it hurts like a bloody bitch. Dr. Gilbert bends his leg and every single cell and nerve in his body screams at him to stop. Jackson bites into his lip so hard it draws blood and clutches at his sheets tightly.

Next to him, Samantha the nurse holds up a hand, and Dr. Gilbert stops. He looks at Jackson's face for a couple of minutes, and Jackson can feel something wet trickling down his cheek. He's not sure if it's tears or sweat. "Maybe that's enough for today, Mr. Walsh," he says solemnly. Jackson's given up on trying to get him to call him Jackson.

Jackson wants to tell him to keep going, because he wants to walk again, but Samantha looks so concerned that he doesn't say anything. He thinks maybe the fact that he can taste blood on his tongue means he should take a break. "Okay," he breathes out. His voice sounds weak even to his own ears. He hates it.

Dr. Gilbert takes a seat in the chair Scarlett vacated just half an hour earlier. Jackson's heart rockets into his throat. Dr. Gilbert doesn't normally stick around after their sessions, and this can only mean something bad. "Mr. Walsh," Dr. Gilbert starts, and Jackson desperately wants to run away from this conversation, "I'm not sure whether you're aware of this, but it's procedure for every patient in your situation to have a psychological consultant on as well as a physical therapist. You know, to help deal with the emotional repercussions of your accident."

Jackson is so relieved he completely forgets about any reservation he might have had towards seeing a psychologist in any other situation. Dr. Gilbert starts talking about setting up a meeting as soon as possible, and Jackson isn't sure what he replies, because he's too busy silently rejoicing that, at least for now, he still seems to be making progress. The only thing that puts a damper on his joy is the intense, aching pain he feels all over his body.

End notes: I'm not sure how happy I am about certain parts of this, but I thought I should post something to make up for having been away for almost a week longer than I said I would be. So I'm sorry if some of it sucked?