Into This Wild Abyss

By: MusketeerAdventure

Chapter Four: Recovery seems daunting; but Clay finds brotherhood outside his circle of Bravo.


"Long is the way and hard, that out of Hell leads up to light." – John Milton


As he approached the door and saw that Mr. Swann was there to greet him, Lucas knew something was wrong.

Trying to quickly ascertain what this might be about, he scanned his memory and knew that today was the day therapy sessions with Clay Spenser would leave this room and find a new home down in the P.T. department.

Things were moving along nicely… but he had to admit, that for most, the first day out of the hospital room was the hardest. It brought up a lot of anxiety; however he was ready for the challenge.

As he got closer, Lucas studied Mr. Swann carefully and when they shook hands in greeting could feel the slight tremors radiating off him; noticed the bags under his eyes – his face wan from lack of sleep. Nodding with understanding he let go and squeezed his shoulder with reassurance.

This man was a bottomless well of encouragement and to see him handwringing with a worrisome look on his face sent immediate warning bells resonating in his ears. So he decided to play it cool and be as calm and positive as possible.

This early in therapy, it was not unusual for family members to be stressed out. Watching a loved one fight for his life and dignity was difficult. And though Mr. Swann was not technically family – his diligence and loyalty met the criteria in his book.

Spenser was a lucky man. Not many friends, in his experience, would be here day in and day out to help provide the needed push or boost of support when going through the many ups and downs of physical therapy. In this particular case, P.T. was going to be a tough journey to be sure, and a long one at that. Hard work and patience was the key; and Swanny was proving to be that much needed well of reserve.

"Rough morning?" he asked and watched with concern as Mr. Swann massaged his temples with earnest intent.

"We got him dressed", he answered, "but he has made it very clear that he's not leaving this room today."

Lucas nodded and remembered Clay's heightened anxiety level the day before when he announced a new change of venue. It was time to get this patient on his feet.

"I can't seem to get through to him that this is a good thing; that it means progress."

Lucas thought about this turn of events. Clay Spenser was a stubborn guy. He sort of knew this day was coming and felt prepared to manage this situation. Reaching for the door handle he replied, "Let me see to this Mr. Swann. You go, get yourself some coffee and relax for a bit."

When it looked like the man would protest, Lucas continued with a bit more assertion. "Go on. I've got this. There's no need to worry."

And as Mr. Swann anxiously made his way down the corridor, Lucas opened the door and let himself in.


When he heard the door opening, Clay sat up straighter… preparing himself to go round two with Swanny.

This time he wouldn't yell or throw the bed pan. That hadn't gone over so well, and he felt sorry for how that went down. Swanny had been here for him since those very first hours of lucidity. He didn't deserve his foul mood and abuses.

This time he would apologize straight off; be calm and give a reasonable response to his yammering on about how much progress he was making; how in just a few weeks after surgery, he was about to get up on his feet.

Clay wiggled his toes and winced; rubbed his thigh and gasped; bent his knees and groaned. Balling his hands into fists he sighed with exasperation. He didn't feel ready to get out of this bed; to stand or for that matter see anyone outside of this room.

Everything hurt so badly. The medication seemed only to take the edge off of his pain. It was always there, waiting just beneath the surface... an ache so deep he couldn't reach down far enough in order to massage the discomfort away. Every which way he moved took extreme effort and he was tired.

Disappointed in himself he knew why he wasn't ready. It was because he was afraid; afraid to fail. Afraid he would fall and not be able to get back up. Afraid that his life was over, that his dreams were shattered; his independence lost.

He had always prided himself on striving to be the best at everything… at out working everyone around him. It was who he was….and now? Who was he really?

What frightened him most was that he would have to change course and do…what; be … what?

Closing his eyes he could only picture himself as a SEAL; a tier one operator; a member of Bravo. Beyond that was … nothing.

When he opened his eyes, instead of Swanny standing at the foot of his bed there stood Lucas Nance, his physical therapist, with that ever present look of patience on his face. Giving him the eye, Clay knew better. The man's friendly exterior hid his relentless pursuit of his goals for him: to be on his feet; walking and independent. Those were his goals too, but right now, he just didn't have it in him.

Clay frowned; scooted his way down the bed; then flopped on his side – essentially turning his back on the man.

"Well" Lucas chuckled, "I see you've mastered that move quite well. Now you just need to swing those legs over the side; and I'll help you into the chair."

Clapping his hands in cheerleader like fashion, he continued in that irritatingly robust way, "Today is the day man. Let's get ready to rumble."

Clay clenched his teeth and felt a headache encroaching at the base of his skull. Lucas was just too upbeat; too optimistic; too dedicated. Squeezing his eyes shut, he attempted to tune the man out – fold in on himself; leave here… go back to where…

But he couldn't go back could he? He'd had to leave his safe place before the all clear was given. He had been thrown out… abandoned. Waking up to find himself here…here…here.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he found Lucas standing over him; smiling – his eyes warm and understanding.

"Would you stop being nice to me" he exclaimed, and hoped that his well-practiced, steely glare – the one that sent Swanny out the door would work its magic now.

But instead Lucas actually laughed, and sat heavily in the wheelchair next to his bed. "That's not going to work on me Spenser", Lucas pronounced, his voice filled with good humor. "Nothing you throw at me" he paused, pointing to the bed pan leaning against the far wall, "is going to make me leave this room without you today."

Clay opened his mouth to counter act the man, to say … leave me alone; I'm too tired; the pain is too much; I might fail – but could not; as Lucas interrupted his tirade before he could even get started; unwilling to hear his excuses. "I won't hear any of it Clay" he began. "You have your life and limbs; you have your right mind; you have support… and by the way Mr. Swann is a saint; and you have me – the best damn physical therapist in this hospital."

Finished with his speech, Clay watched as Lucas stood, pulled the wheelchair close to the bed and locked it down. Then said with authority, "I believe in you man."

"Now it's time to sit up."

Studying Lucas and sensing his unyielding resolve, Clay thought of Swanny who put so much faith in his recovery; of Sonny who survived the tube and never complained; of Boss who made the hard decisions and never looked back, of Bravo – his brothers, who blew up his phone every day sending messages to try and cheer him up. Surprisingly he thought of his father, whose number he blocked on his phone months ago. Who if he knew about this would probably chew him out for being such a spineless wuss.

Lowering his head to think more on this Brian came to mind, then Adam – Echo Team and countless other men and women who gave the ultimate sacrifice. What would they think of this meltdown of his? Lucas was right. He could do this. Failure was not an option; so with some effort he sat up.

Nodding, Lucas continued, "Remember how we do this; bring those legs around and sit on the side of the bed." Making his move, pain raced up his legs and pierced his thigh; but he remembered his exercises; remembered to breathe and so swung them around one leg at a time, placing his feet on the floor.

Lucas grinned and reached out his arms, "Grab hold of my shoulders", he instructed. "That's right", and bent down to embrace him… arms locked about his waist. "Now stand with me on three", he whispered in his ear, "One… two… three."

In sync Clay held on tight; leaned his weight in and felt Lucas' strength.

Legs buckling, fear bubbled up from his stomach and sweat popped out on his brow. He was going to fall. What had he been thinking? He couldn't do this. But instead of hitting the floor, Lucas held him up beneath his arms; pressed his knees with his own to shore him up and would not let go.

"I'm not going to let you fall sailor", he announced with certainty and then swung him into the waiting chair with little effort.

Unlocking the chair; placing each foot in a foot rest, Lucas bent down into his personal space. "Just trust me Clay" he said with confidence.

Clay nodded warily; pressed his lips together in determination and swiped sweat from his forehead.

Day one… he told himself… this is day one; and when they left the room, there was Swanny waiting – hands pushed down deep in his pockets; his expression relieved.


Thank you for reading. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Thanks to everyone for such a wonderful response to this!