Chapter IV – What's the worst that can happen?

DAY 1

Jo wasn't sure what grabbed her attention. It had been a regular team meeting, the kind she only listened to with one ear open. Admin was never really her strong suit. In fact, she could have done without ever having to sit through a two hour meeting rehashing all of their patient's cases and treatment plans. She would much rather spend those two hours actually treating a patient. Graeme Jennings, Norwood physical center's director and Jo's boss liked to call her an idealist. Usually during her performance reviews at year end.

But something about this case had her looking up and actively listening. As Graeme explained, the guy was a transfer, a biker suffering from lower limb paralysis. Bikers were common stock in Norwood. A wrong turn, a wrong decision on the road usually had dire consequences for motorcycle enthusiasts. The ones who ended up here were ironically lucky. But what was curious about this particular case was the type of injury itself. It was an incomplete, which meant the doctors could not actually say if the paralysis was permanent. They didn't usually see those cases in Norwood. The center was renown in the West Coast for specializing in the most serious injuries. Quadriplegics, tetraplegics, severed limbs, degenerative illnesses that would ultimately result in muscle atrophy and often paralysis. Their role in their patient's rehabilitation was to return them to their highest level of functioning and unfortunately too often that meant helping patients communicate again or simply use the bathroom on their own.

But according to his file, this guy, this biker wasn't a lost cause. He had spent three weeks at Southwestern General in Sacramento after his accident receiving anti-inflammatory treatment which had significantly reduced the swelling around his spine. It was still too early to say if the injuries were reversible but with the right treatment plan, with the right therapist, there was a good chance he could regain some if not full use of his lower limbs. She straightened up on her chair and cleared her throat. "I don't get it. What is he doing here? His injuries could be handled in other facilities."

Graeme's eyes found her and he looked almost surprised to see she was actually listening. "He's been at California Pacific for the last week. He hasn't really been… cooperative."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning he is resisting treatment." He blurted out frustrated "Look folks, I'm not going to sugar coat it. He is aggressive and has threatened violence towards the staff several times. They've had to restrain him a few times. Pacific want him out and they're looking at us to take him in because we have more experience dealing with difficult cases. "

One of the therapists cackled. "Yeah, I bet they jumped at the opportunity to get rid of that one."

Another one chimed in. "Did they get a psych eval?"

Graeme wanted to be honest with his staff and let them know exactly what they were in for if they took the case. "Didn't do any good. He threatened to get the psych killed if he came near him ever again." There were a few nervous chuckles in the room before Graeme continued. "I know this isn't the easiest case but this is what we do people. It's not the first time we have to deal with an angry depressed patient."

"Doesn't mean we have to take everyone else's."

Graeme raised his hands in surrender "If no one is willing to take the case, then I guess we'll just say no. They can find him another facility. "

Jo quickly scanned the room. In addition to her and Graeme, there were eleven other therapists in the room and all of them were currently looking anywhere but at Graeme. After what they'd heard, she couldn't say she was surprised. But something about this case called out to her. Maybe it was the challenge, maybe it was because for once she wanted to make a real difference, or maybe she was just being a naïve idealist. Probably all of the above, if she was honest but that didn't stop her from speaking up. "I'll take it."

She watched as twelve bodies shifted towards her as one, eyes watching her with a mixture of surprise, horror and amusement.

Jo liked the people she worked with. Truly. They were solid, good people. But sometimes, they underestimated the hell out of her. Maybe it was her petite frame or the fact she spoke with a soft low voice, or maybe it was what most people kept calling her angelic face and her baby blond hair which made her some fragile little thing in people's mind. She was used to people making a lot of assumptions about what she could or could not handle. But it still annoyed her. "Alright guys, enough with the surprised looks. It's offending."

Graeme raised his eyebrows and asked. "Are you sure you want to take this on?"

"Positive. I mean, what's the worst that can happen?"

He shrugged in response. If she wanted the case so bad, who was he to argue with her. "Alright then. Happy Lowman is all yours."

*******SOA*******

DAY 2

Jo stood in the long corridor facing room seventy four which would be Happy Lowman's room until he left the center. She was suddenly quite nervous about it all and started to wonder if maybe she had made a mistake agreeing to take on this case. She had spent the evening last night, thinking through the appropriate treatment plan but she wouldn't actually be able to bed it down until she met the man.

He had arrived from Pacific a couple of hours before. She had been working with a patient but she had seen him being wheeled in by an orderly. He had looked… terrifying. She could tell he was very tall; he looked awkward, almost too big for the chair. His head was bold and adorned a tattoo she couldn't really make out from where she was standing. He'd been wearing jeans and a hoodie and held what looked like a leather jacket on his knees . But what had stricken her most was how much he conveyed simply with his face. As far form him as she had been, she could still see it. The quiet fury, the rage waiting on the surface for the right moment to explode. It had been in his dark brown eyes, in his furrowed eyebrows, in the way he clenched his jaws accentuating his high cheekbones. He was a scary presence. New patients arrived at Norwood every day but somehow as Happy Lowman was being wheeled to his room, it seemed like the whole center came to halt as if they knew better than to be in this man's way.

Jo took a deep breath and took a few steps towards the room. The door was open but she knocked anyway before letting herself in. He was lying down in bed, eyes drilling into the ceiling. He had taken off his hoodie, leaving him in a white tee shirt which hang into his body like a glove and revealed chiseled muscular arms which were covered in tattoos up to his wrists. The leather jacket she had noticed earlier which was actually more of a vest was resting on a chair. She examined it quickly, taking in the reaper sewed on the back with the words SONS OF ANARCHY, CALIFORNIA. As she went back to her inspection of him, she noticed the sheets were bunched up in his hands so hard his knuckles were almost white in stark contrast with his skin.

She knew he had heard her coming into the room but he had yet to acknowledge her presence. He hadn't moved a single muscle; he hadn't so much as glanced in her direction. He was truly ignoring her. Well, you did ask for it girl. She decided it was time for her to introduce herself. "Mr. Lowman, welcome to Norwood. I'm Jo Manning. I'm one of the head therapists. My team and I will be working with you going forward.

Her "team" consisted of Jackie Lorner, a rehabilitation nurse who was a no non-sense woman with over twenty years experience under her belt who would be in charge of coordinating Happy's daily schedule and provide him with direct care. A doctor would come twice a week but Jackie would administer medication, perform the vitals checks and care of his still healing wounds. She was qualified to provide counseling to patients, but somehow Jo didn't think there'd be much of that involved here. The second member of her team was Samson Jones, an occupational therapist with whom Jo had started her career at Norwood and who was one of her closest friends. Samson was a two hundred and forty pound giant with a marked southern accent who had played full back for Notre Dame before his career was cut short but a nasty knee injury. But as he liked to say, when God shuts a door, he opens a window and after being inspired by his rehabilitation team during his recovery, he had found his calling. His role was to teach patients self care and everything they needed to know for daily living. Jo was a physical therapist and headed the team. She would be in charge of the treatment plan for the physical part. The three of them had worked together for years and although each had an important part to play, the most important part of a patient's recovery was the patient himself and something about this guy's demeanor told Jo he wasn't about to make it easy for her.

Jo waited for him to finally say or do something to show he had actually heard her but he remained in the exact same position. The only proof the man lying in the bed was alive and well was the fact that he was blinking steadily. She took a step further into the room and she was finally able to see what was tattooed on his head. It was a snake. Charming. "Mr. Lowman?"

"What the fuck do you want?" he blurted, his voice deep and raspy.

Hum, I guess that's something. Jo thought to herself before responding"Like I said, I'm Jo Manning, I'm here to help you work on your recovery."

"Why did they bring me here?"

"You mean in Norwood? Well, I'm guessing that might have something to do with you threatening to kill your doctor and his whole family. It mayhave put a dump on his willingness to help you. So before you go ahead and threaten my family, I have to warn you that both my parents are dead and I'm an only child. So now that we got this out of the way, maybe we can concentrate on what's important here." She had intended it as a joke but it fell flat.

Again, it took a moment to get a reaction from him. "Get the fuck out." He growled.

This was not going well at all. She sighted. "Mr. Lowman…"

"I said get the fuck out."

He didn't raise his voice as he said it but there was no mistaking the finality of his tone. She wasn't going to get anywhere with him today. That much was clear. If she ever wanted to get through to him, she was going to have to take it one step at a time with him. "Tell you what. Why don't you rest today and I'll come back tomorrow."

She turned on her heels trying to control the feeling of failure she felt washing over her and walked out. As she reached the door, she heard his coarse voice. "Don't bother." She stopped and looked back at him. He still hadn't moved an inch. She wasn't even sure he had been addressing her. She exited and bumped smack into Samson. She gave him a pointed look as they moved away from the room.

"Eavesdropping now?"

"Saw him come in earlier. They weren't kidding at Pacific. Thought you might need some back up."

"I was fine, but thanks."

"Yeah, from what I heard, it went really well."

She rolled her eyes. "I wasn't exactly expecting a warm and fuzzy hug." She truly hadn't. She hadn't expected to be kicked out of there so unceremoniously but she had known it wasn't going to be easy. The visit had been about sizing him up and deciding how much of a challenge he was going to be. She had to establish a rapport, understand how to handle him before she could even begin to think about sharing her treatment plan with him which was why she had gone in the room on her own.

"We can still say no, Jo. Send him back to his family. Let them deal with it."

He was riling her, and they both knew it. "I'm not giving up Sam. For once, we have a chance to make a real difference."

"And here I was, thinking we did that every day." He smirked.

"You know what I mean. He could walk again."

"You realise the chances of that happening are very slim."

She stopped walking and grabbed his arm. "But there's still a chance."

"Not if he keeps refusing treatment."

"I'll get to him Samson. I just need a little time."

"Man's got a fucking snake tattooed on his head. He's bad ass, sister. Not sure that's the kind of guy you want to get to."

"He doesn't scare me."

"Maybe he should. Look I get it Jo, you want to help, you want to make a difference or whatever. All I'm saying is you can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved. "

She felt a smile creep up her face and wriggled her eyebrows at him. "Oh Samson, he wants to be saved. He just doesn't know it yet."

*******SOA*******

DAY 5

Stubborn, rude, backwards, macho asshole! Jo punched the bag and it went flying only to come back towards her with the same speed. She was so angry… no actually she was furious. Happy Lowman had been at Norwood for four days and she hadn't made any progress with him. Every day without a fault, she would walk into his room and every day without a fault he would be kicking her out within minutes. He hadn't been out of his room since he'd arrived. He was refusing the food, refusing to participate in any of the group activities and of course he was also refusing any physical therapy. The only people who had been able to come within two feet of him were the orderlies who helped him with the bathroom and hygiene and her nurse Jackie. Jo wasn't sure what his problem was but she knew she was losing her patience and had to use a lot of self control not to deviate from the professional and pleasant side she usually found so easy to keep, which was why she had found refuge in the gym and was currently exacting revenge on a punching bag.

She had taken up kickboxing about a year ago. In addition to her daily five miles routine, it helped her to keep in shape but she had quickly realised that it was also a great outlet for her frustrations. As she punched the bag again, she heard the door to the gym open and watched Samson make his way towards her, nonchalantly holding his work bag over his shoulder. He had been the one who introduced her to this old, smelly gym located barely five minutes from the center and she had fell in love with it.

"You know, most people go out on a Saturday night, get drunk, have fun maybe get some freak on."

"Really? How long have you known me?"

"Good point." he threw his bag to the floor as he steadied the punching bag which was still flying sideways. "Heard what happened today."

Of course he did. Only fast thing in Norwood was the speed at which gossip travelled.

*******SOA*******

Saturdays at the center was family day. Jo had decided she'd give Happy some breathing room today after trying to get through to him for four days. She also had to admit that she was curious to see if anyone would visit him. Normally, families are an important part of the patient recovery but this wasn't anything but a normal case. Aside from the fact that he was part of a motorcycle club and the circumstances of his accident, she didn't know a single thing about him, so she wasn't sure what to expect.

She had been in the break room reading an article when she'd heard the deafening roar of motorcycles. She'd walked to the window and watched as six bikers dismounted their perfectly lined bikes. She wasn't sure what she'd expected but that was definitely not it. As they made their way to the front doors of the center, she noticed the questioning looks on departing families and couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of it all.

A couple of hours later, after saying goodbye to one of her patient's mother, she'd found herself looking over the bay windows to the park that bordered the center. Happy was sitting in his chair while the other bikers surrounded him. She noted that he was wearing his vest which she has since learned was called a cut. She had learned a lot about motorcycle clubs in the last few days, after spending several evenings browsing the internet and researching. She wasn't sure why she did it but since he wasn't talking to her, she had no other resort to try and understand where he came from. As she observed from afar, she also noticed he looked much more relaxed that he had been since he had been there. His shoulders weren't as tense. He wasn't talking, he wasn't smiling, but he looked… at ease.

"You know they brought him a bottle of whiskey? Guess that's a biker's version to the latest best seller."

Jo looked over to see Jackie standing by her side. She was one of the only ones who had been able to approach Happy even if she admitted he wasn't much of a talker. But as it happened, Jackie liked to do the talking so it worked.

"How do you…"

"Clarisse confiscated it." Clarisse was the hospital receptionist and she was not a woman to be tampered with. Jo had no problem picturing her giving the bikers the evil eye while she took the bottle. "It's almost five. You're going to tell them it's time for them to leave or you want me to do it?"

"I'll go."

A few minutes later, gathering up her courage she had made her way towards the bikers. As they'd noticed her walking to them, they'd suddenly straightened up, twelve pair of eyes flying to her. In fact, the only one who wasn't looking at her was of course, Happy. She could even swear she'd seen his shoulders tense again as she approached.

She felt like a wounded gazelle crawling into a lion's den as she felt their eyes on her, perusing her body as if it was on sale and they weren't even being discreet about it. It made her glad the scrubs were nothing if not unflattering. Somehow, she still found the ability to move towards them.

"Hello gentlemen, I'm sorry to be a spoilt sport but visiting hours are almost over. If you want to make your way out, I'll take Happy back to his room."

"I wish she was taking me back to my room, brother." She heard one of them say. He had eerie blue eyes which contrasted with his dark curly hair. She wasn't sure if he'd meant for her to hear but they all chuckled at that.

A blond one with a killer smile and hypnotic blue eyed and seemed younger than the rest admonished them. "Boys, behave." He took a few steps towards her grinning. "Don't mind him darlin', he's got self control issues, we'll be right out"

She had been about to object to what seemed to be a term of endearment for them but in the end she decided to let it go. Instead, she just smiled and moved back a few steps giving them space to say goodbye. She watched as one by one, the man hugged Happy each whispering words of encouragements to him before walking away. As the last of them, a tall muscular one with blond spiky hair and a tattoo on his neck walked by her with a goodbye nod, Jo made her way to Happy. Instead of wheeling him back to his room, she thought she'd take the opportunity to try and talk to him outside of the remit of room seventy four. Obviously, she should have known better.

*******SOA*******

"Yeah? Did you also hear about him calling me a nosy bitch who should know her place before asking me to get the fuck out of his face?"

Samson tried hard to suppress a chuckle but not hard enough. She shoved him playfully. "That is NOT funny, Samson. He's such a dick! He is so… frustrating. Most of the guys we deal with would kill for a chance to walk again! Kill! He has it and he's just too stubborn to do anything about it."

Samson knew her enough to know that sometimes she needed to vent her frustrations. It was why he'd known he'd found her here. He just nodded in agreement "I know."

"I should just give up now and let him be."

Again, he nodded his agreement. "You probably should."

She let out a long sigh and sat on a nearby bench. "Except I can't. I still want to help him Samson. Even if he is being an asshole about it. I just, I'm lost. I really don't know what to do. I mean I have dealt with difficult patients before but he's just not giving me any in."

It was true. Dealing with difficult patients, patients who were resisting treatment was part of their job. A big part of it. Those people came with no idea of how they fit in the world anymore. Their whole life had changed in the blink of an eye and they had to learn how to do everything again. Easy was not part of the vocabulary around here. Jo knew difficult, she did difficult. But those were also patients with whom she could use traditional methods; group and individual counseling, therapy and anti-anxiolytics usually did wonders. But that wasn't going to work with a pissed off biker who looked about to murder someone at anytime.

He sat next to her making the bench move slightly and turned to her with the smile of someone in the know. "I know of no higher fortitude than stubbornness in the face of overwhelming odds."

Jo gave him a sassy look as she removed the straps from her hands revealing bruised knuckles from banging on the bag. She stretched out her fingers several times, wincing at the pain. "Was that supposed to inspire me or something?"

"It's a quote." He explained.

"I figured. It's also vague and not helpful at all. "

He shrugged. "It's just something our coach used to tell us before a difficult game."

"Please tell me you're not expecting me to use quotes to motivate a violent biker with anger issues."

"Actually the quote is for you. You got this Jo"

"I do?" she asked in a playful tone.

"You've done it hundreds of times before. You just got to find a way to make him listen. Sometimes it's not in the method, sometimes it's in the delivery."

"Please tell me that isn't something else your coach used to tell you."

"Maybe" he cackled. "Listen you should go home and get some ice on those hands of yours. Tomorrow is another day."

"If you say so."

"Now I am going to go get my freak on. " He stood up, making a small dance move . "Sure you don't want to join?"

She couldn't suppress a laugh. "Another time maybe."

She watched him leave with a smile on her face. She loved Samson. He was always there to help when she was feeling down. And lately that had been happening a lot, she though with a sigh. She needed to take a shower, clear her head and look at this with a new perspective. Maybe after downing a bottle of wine. As she stood to leave, she found herself thinking back to what Samson had told her about the delivery and she felt the beginning of an idea form in her mind.

A few minutes later, she was walking back into Norwood. She went straight for the reception hoping Clarisse was gone home for the day which would mean she had been replaced by Vin, the night shift who was much more malleable than Clarisse.

She bent over the counter, flashing him her best smile. "Hey Vin. Still have that bottle of whiskey Clarisse confiscated today?"

He threw her a suspicious look. "Maybe. Why?"

"I need it."

"You know I can't let you bring it in here."

"Come on Vin, I promise you that no one will find out."

"What am I supposed to tell Clarisse if she asks where it's gone?"

"Shrug and pretend you don't know?" He gave her a look and she tried a smile again. "Please Vin, I'll owe you one."

He sighed and opened a file cabinet behind him before handing the bottle over. "You better remember that next time I need a favor."

"You got it" she replied before hurrying down the hallway. As she reached Happy's room, she took a few seconds to watch him as he absent mindedly flicked through channels with the remote.

"Come on girl you can do this." She whispered to herself before knocking onto his door with one hand as she kept her other hand, the one holding the bottle in her back.

He turned around startled and as soon as he spotted her, his dark brown eyes drilled into her as he turned the TV off. He growled. "Jesus Fucking Christ, you don't give up do you? Don't you have a man waiting for you at home? Kids? A fuckin' dog?

"Nope, it's just me." She grinned. "Come on, Happy just hear me out, alright? I know you want to be left alone and that's fine. I'm not here to talk about your treatment or your recovery. I just thought you could use some company. She raised her hand showing off the bottle in her hand.

"That the bottle my brothers brought with them?"

That was probably the first sentence he said to her that didn't incorporate the word fuck or one of its synonym. If that wasn't progress, she didn't know what was.

"As a matter of fact, it is. I figured we could share it."

"I ain't the sharing type."

"No shit."

He threw her a look as if he was surprised to hear her swear. She flashed him a knowing smile and took another step in the room. "Look I'll make you a deal, you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to. We can just… sit in silence. Or watch TV. Or maybe I can tell you about me. Wathever you want. Best case scenario you actually have a good time and realise I'm not so bad after all, worst case scenario you get to drink some of the good stuff and then I'll leave."

He didn't answer but he didn't ask her to leave either which she took as a good sign. She opened the bottle and looked around for a glass. She spotted an empty one on his bedside table and poured some of the amber liquid before having it over to him. He begrudgingly took it while she pulled a chair and sat next to him. She watched him take the glass to his mouth and smell the whiskey before downing it in one go. She took the bottle to her mouth and took a swig before she poured him another glass.

"What happened to your hands?"

It took her a second to register he was actually talking to her. Looking down at her knuckles, she let out a self derisive laugh. "Working out my frustration on a bag."

"You box?"

"He says with a surprised tone." she scoffed. "Yes, actually, I do. Kickboxing to be exact."

"If you're bruising, you ain't doing it right."

"Thanks for the insight." she retorted. "Like I said, I was working out my frustrations; I wasn't exactly paying attention to the technique."

And then they were silent again but somehow for the first time since she had met him, Jo didn't think it was such a bad thing. And that was due to the fact that she'd noticed that his shoulders weren't tense anymore. Small victories and all. It wasn't much but she thought it was a start.

*******SOA*******

Well, this is it folks, I had to cut the flashbacks here but There will be more as the story moves forward notably with Happy's pov. I re-wrote the last scene several times as I was trying to stay true to Happy's character I would love to read feedback about it so please don't be shy!

I also apologise for the delay in posting this but life is very busy at the moment but to everyone reading my other stories as well, I will try my very best to post a new chapter on each of them this week.

And finally the quote that Samson recites is from Louis Nizer