Author's Note: Onward and upward to the next part...
Of course, I do not own Bones or any of its characters.
As usual, thank you to everyone who is reading/following/reviewing this. Always enjoyed and always appreciated.
Stephaniew: I think talking about himself is difficult for Sweets, and, at this point in his life, learning is just as hard. ;)
Cwgirlup: Um...quit reading my mind. ;D Without spoiling things too much, I have two words for you: Year Seven. Enough said. ;)
Fear Herself: Just goes to show, like David said earlier in this section: Sweets is still a kid under all that intellect. Kids sometimes just don't think things through. ;) Good to hear that you are working on your story.
TimeWitch16: Interesting point. When I was planning this in my mind, I thought about the direction I wanted to go in relation to what I saw in Sweets' personality. Despite a probable high level of abuse, he has several admirable qualities: empathy, intelligence, loyalty, high levels of affection, and a strong desire to help others. To me that spoke of a childhood that had a lot of love, reassurance, and intervention. However, despite all that, Sweets still seems to have some noticeable neurosis: clinginess, low self-esteem, use of manipulation, and jealousy (and not just with Daisy, check out that scene between him and Wyatt in the diner during Dwarf in the Dirt). That seems to indicate that there was a lot of setbacks in his recovery, and that his parents were not able to erase all of his issues. Thus, the up-and-down quality to his childhood. So when setting this up, I actually used the classic "stages of grief" model to plot things along: 1. Denial/Shock (Year One, Year Two) 2. Guilt/Questioning/Bargaining (Year Three, Year Five, Year Six) and so on....Granted I went a little out of order...;) Well hopefully that clears things up. Glad you are still enjoying, and I hope to get a few more chapters read today on your story. :)
Wow, another long Author's Note....onward then....
Year Five—Longing—part 3
At the dining room table, David's head shot up, and he rose to his feet from the table. He walked slowly toward the front door. 'That sounded like a scream outside,' he thought.
"What was that David?" Carolyn called from the top of the stars.
"Don't know," he said. "I'm going outside to find out if anyone needs help." He grabbed his wallet and keys and put on his shoes. He opened the door and stepped outside. For a moment, he looked back at the door, confused. 'Didn't I lock the door?'
He looked over to see Troy and Mary Harnson running over to the side of their yard. They stopped and looked down at one point, both of them gasping. Troy then turned to his wife.
"Mary, go back inside and call 911," he said. "And grab a flashlight." She nodded and quickly ran back inside the house. David sped up his pace over toward them.
"Troy, what's happening?" he said. "Is someone hurt?" David had reached the Harnson's yard and started to make his way over to him. Troy was startled by David's presence, but his expression quickly became a mix of fear and sadness.
"David…I…I'm so sorry," Troy stammered.
"What are you…?" David started, but stopped once he looked down.
There on the ground was Lance. His right arm was at an unnatural angle, and a large tree branch was tangled onto his legs. He was silent and unmoving. David's heart went to his throat.
"Lance!" he yelled. He ran over to his side; his hands trembling as he looked down at him. "Get…get this off him," David said, motioning at the branch. Troy nodded and the two of them carefully eased the branch away from Lance. They heaved it to the side, and David dropped down to the ground next to Lance.
"Lance…Lance…can you hear me, sport?" he asked. He reached over to touch his son's face, but jerked his hand away when he felt something wet. He looked down and discovered that it was blood.
At the sight of his son's blood on his hand, David Sweets lost all of his calm and control.
"Lance…Lance," he cried, shaking Lance's shoulder a bit. "Speak to me… Open your eyes…Lance." David felt tears fill his eyes, and he knew that there was very little he could do to stop them from coming out.
Mary Harnson came back out, clutching a flashlight.
"The ambulance will be here any minute," she said, handing the flashlight to Troy. "Is he all right?"
Troy turned on the flashlight and knelt down beside David and Lance. He shined the light onto Lance's prone body.
"He's out cold," Troy said as he moved the light to Lance's face. "Must have gotten the wind knocked out of him." In the faint light, Lance's face was almost white in contrast to the scarlet gash visible near his temple.
David stopped calling his son's name and began to use his fingers to very gently probe Lance's skull. Soon he found a large lump forming on the side of his head. He then lightly brushed a lock of hair away from Lance's forehead.
"You're going to be ok, sport," David choked. "I'm right here."
"David, look at his arm," Troy said, moving his flashlight. David shifted his eyes to see that blood was starting to soak Lance's sleeve, and that toward the center of the stain was a bit of white poking out.
"David, what's going on?"
David, Troy and Mary looked up to see Carolyn walking toward them.
"I heard you yelling," she said as she got closer. "What is…?" Upon seeing Lance on the ground, the flashlight shining on his head, she became silent. She then ran over and dropped to her knees beside David.
"No…not my baby," she wept. "Please God… not my baby." She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. David quickly realized what she was thinking and forced her to look up at him.
"He's alive, Carolyn," he said, his voice still rough with his own tears. "He's hurt, but he's alive." Carolyn shook her head.
"No…he's not moving," she said. "And he's bleeding…" David grabbed her hand and placed it on Lance's chest.
"Feel that?" he said, insistent. "Feel him breathing? He's going to be all right." After a moment, Carolyn could feel the slight movement under her hand as Lance breathed. She took a deep breath. Her tears didn't stop, but they did lose their hysteria.
"Thank God," she whispered. She then began to stroke Lance's cheek. "David, he's so still…what happened to him?"
"Near as we can tell, he was climbing our tree and the branch he was on broke, and he fell to the ground," Troy said. "Probably hit some of the other branches on the way down."
"What? He was in a tree?" Carolyn asked, confused. "What was he doing in a tree?" David took her shoulders and turned her toward him.
"Carolyn, go back to the house," he said firmly. "Grab your purse and lock the house up. The ambulance will be here any time, and we are going with Lance to the hospital." Carolyn was still weeping and she kept looking over at her son.
"Don't worry, I'll stay with him," David told her. "Now go. Hurry." Carolyn got to her feet and stumbled back toward the house. As she left, the sound of sirens filled the street. Troy got up and waved the ambulance over to his yard. It stopped and a pair of EMTs ran over with a kit and a stretcher. Troy and Mary moved off to the side while they sat down on the ground next to David.
"What happened to him?" one of the men asked David.
"He…he fell out of that tree…we think…I wasn't here," David sniffed, still trying to regain control. The other man began to examine Lance.
"Morgan, he's completely unconscious," the second man said. "Probably a concussion." The man identified as Morgan nodded.
"Sir, are you family?" Morgan asked.
"I'm his father," David said. He watched as the second EMT began to secure Lance's neck with a brace.
"Aaron, let's get a splint on that arm," Morgan said. The second man nodded. "What's his name, sir?"
"Lance…Lance Sweets," David said his voice thick with unshed tears. He turned his head to see Carolyn running back toward them.
"Ma'am," Aaron said, holding up his hand to stop her.
"I'm his mother," Carolyn said, resuming her place beside David. "I'm not leaving him."
"S'okay, Aaron," Morgan said and turned to the Sweets. "Just give us room, ma'am." Morgan dug out a pen-like flashlight and carefully peeled back Lance's eyelid, shining the light into it. He repeated the gesture with Lance's other eye and then looked up.
"Definitely a concussion," he said. "We need to get him to a hospital." Both the Sweets nodded.
"We want to come with you," David said. "We want to stay with our son."
"That's fine," Morgan nodded. Aaron finished putting the splint on Lance's arm, and he and Morgan put Lance onto the stretcher. They were careful not to jostle him. After strapping him down, they carried him toward the ambulance with the Sweets walking close behind. After loading Lance in, Aaron went to the front to drive, while Morgan helped David and Carolyn in and then shut the doors. The ambulance then sped away.
Inside, Morgan continued to treat Lance.
"David," Carolyn said, beginning to cry again. David held her close.
"He's going to be fine," he murmured. Although at that moment, watching Lance's still form, he had a hard time believing that.
Once they arrived at the hospital, the EMTs whisked Lance away, and the Sweets were faced with a flurry of forms and questions. David left to call Doctor Colinablanca so she could fill in Lance's medical history to the staff here. In particular, about the still visable scars on his back. David then returned to help Carolyn fill out the forms.
Unfortunately, the Sweets had become experts in detailing information about their son. They were able to fill out everything within minutes, and now were just left with the waiting. That was always the hardest part for David and Carolyn. They hardly could be called pessimistic, but creeping in the back of their minds was always the idea of how easily Lance could be taken away from them. It was a side effect from knowing how close he had been to death when he was taken away from Andrew. In times like this, the fear found a way to move to the forefront of their minds. Neither of them said it out loud, but both of them knew that they shared it.
David and Carolyn held each other in the waiting room. It was silent since the room was empty, save for the two of them.
"David, why was Lance in that tree?" Carolyn said, finally breaking the silence. "What was he doing?"
"I don't know," David sighed, shaking his head. "He was supposed to be in his room. I didn't even see him sneak out."
"I don't know what he's thinking anymore," she sniffed. "I mean, I don't even know what I'll do when he wakes up."
"I know," David said, rubbing her arm. "Part of me wants to yell at him and ground him for life. But another part of me knows that when I see him open his eyes, I'll just want to hold him and tell him how much I love him."
"He hit his head," Carolyn said. "You…you don't think that there will…that there will be…" She couldn't say it, but David knew what she was thinking: brain damage. The idea that their playful, brilliant child could have his vast gifts taken away from him. He put his hand on Carolyn's cheek.
"Don't think about that now," he soothed. "Let's wait until he wakes up."
"But David…" David put his fingers on Carolyn's lips to stop her.
"It won't do him any good for us to worry about things like that right now," he said. "So let's wait to cross that bridge if we come to it." He pulled her into another tight embrace.
"No matter what happens, he's our son, and we will take care of him. Together." Carolyn nodded and rested against David.
They continued to sit quietly for a while until a doctor came in, holding a file.
"Mr. and Mrs. Sweets," she said. "I'm Doctor Versalle." David and Carolyn got up and walked over to her.
"How is he?" David asked, still holding his wife close to him.
"As good as can be expected," Versalle nodded. "Lance has a compound fracture to his right arm. He will have to wear a cast for several weeks."
"What about his head?" Carolyn swallowed.
"Well we did need to give him a few stitches for that cut near his temple. Fortunately, it wasn't very deep," the doctor said. "He does have a moderate concussion that we are somewhat concerned about."
"What do you mean?" David asked, growing nervous.
"Well we were able to bring him around, but we're not sure of how aware he is of his surroundings," she said. "He opened his eyes, but when we tried to get him to talk, he wouldn't speak and seemed frightened. I was hoping…Well I was going over what Doctor Colinablanca told us, and I was wondering if you two could shed some light on this."
"Lance doesn't always like being around strangers," David explained. "He's gotten better about that in the last couple years, but he still gets a little anxious at times."
"I see," Versalle nodded. "And this concussion could be making him disoriented. That would make the pain of his injuries and the lack of familiar faces rather scary for him. Well, we need to be able to assess his level of awareness, so I'll need you two to try to get him to talk."
"Actually, we were hoping you'd let us see him," David said. The doctor smiled back at them.
"Of course, follow me."
They walked down a couple of corridors and stopped at Lance's room. A nurse met them at the entrance.
"Doctor, he won't let me touch him," the nurse said, exasperated. "I keep trying to check the bandage on his head, but he won't let me near him."
"It's all right. I have his parents here," Versalle said. "Let's see if we can try again in a few minutes." Versalle and the Sweets walked into the room followed by the nurse.
Lance was lying in bed. His head was wrapped with a large, white bandage which made his hair stick up a little. A patch of red had formed on the side. His right arm was in a sling and bent at a right angle. On it was a dark blue cast. David couldn't get over how small Lance looked. Unfortunately, he could also see how scared his son was.
David and Carolyn walked over to him, and David leaned in close.
"Lance, it's Dad," he said. "Can you hear me?" Lance turned his eyes toward him, blinking rapidly. "It's ok, calm down," David soothed, reaching over to clasp Lance's shoulder. "I'm here."
"Dad?" he said in a very small voice. David smiled at him.
"It's me, sport. It's Dad." David thought he was going to start crying then and there. Lance looked over David's shoulder.
"Mom?" he said in the same questioning tone. Carolyn smiled and moved closer to him.
"I'm here, baby," she whispered. "It's all right." Lance winced.
"Head hurts," he said weakly. He tried to shift in bed, but was hampered by the cast. "My arm…"
"Lance, you're in the hospital," David explained. "You fell out of a tree, and now the doctor needs you to answer her questions so she can see if you're all right. Ok?" David continued to rub Lance's shoulder and was relieved to see the fear dissipating from his face.
"Are you and Mom staying?" Lance asked, his eyes begging.
"Of course we are," David said, pulling up a chair to sit beside him. Carolyn moved to the other side the bed and pulled a chair over to sit there. The doctor walked over to the bed.
"Hello Lance. I'm Doctor Versalle," she said. "First of all I need to ask how you are feeling."
"Hurt…"Lance said rolling his eyes around the room. "My arm hurts and my head…can't think…"
"Can you tell me your name? Your full name?"
"Lance David Sweets," he answered, rubbing his eyes.
"How old are you?"
"I'm ten." Lance looked over at David, who smiled at him.
"You're doing just fine, sport."
"Do you know who he is?" Versalle asked, pointing at David.
"He's my dad, David Stephen Sweets."
"And her?" Versalle pointed to the other side of the bed.
"My mom, Carolyn Michelle Sweets."
"He seems coherent," Versalle nodded. "Of course we will have to do additional tests to check for any brain damage." David noticed that Carolyn's eyes were tearing up again. He nudged Lance's shoulder, making him turn toward him.
"Hey Lance, explain to Doctor Versalle Freud's theory of the psyche," he said. Lance furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
"Why?" he asked.
"Just do it," David sighed.
"Mr. Sweets, don't you think that question is a little beyond…?"
"Freud believed that the psyche existed in three parts," Lance said. "The id, which is your base wants, the superego, which is sort of like your conscience, and the ego, which balances the two." Versalle and the nurse goggled at him.
"What the…?" the nurse started.
"Good job, sport," David said after seeing Carolyn's relieved expression. He then looked over at Versalle. "I think his brain is working just fine."
"Well that's…very good Lance," the doctor said. She walked over and tried to get a closer look at the bandage on Lance's head, but he flinched away from her.
"Lance, baby, let her check your head," Carolyn said. Lance gave a slight nod, and the doctor was able to look closer at the bandage, running her fingers along the edges. Lance then moaned, and Versalle noticed that he had developed a rather greenish look.
"Lance, are you all right?" Carolyn asked. The doctor reached down on the floor for a bedpan.
"I…I'm going to…"
Fortunately the doctor had the bedpan already sitting in Lance's lap while he vomited. When he was done, he lay back against his pillows.
"Feel better now?" Versalle asked while handing the bedpan off to the nurse, who left the room with it.
"It hurts," Lance mumbled. "I want to go home."
"I'll get you something for the pain," Versalle said, heading for the door. "You go ahead and get some rest." David and Carolyn got up and began to follow the doctor.
"Don't go," Lance whined.
"It's all right," Carolyn said. "We'll be right back."
"Please stay," he pleaded. "I…Please…"
Carolyn felt her heart ache. After all the worrying she had gone through, she couldn't walk away from the pleading in Lance's voice. She went back to her chair and sat down.
"All right, baby. I'll stay," she said. She looked up and shared a nod of understanding with David.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," David told them.
Out in the hallway, Versalle turned to David.
"Well he should be all right, but I'd like to keep him for a day or two," she said. "Just to run a couple tests and to make sure that there will be no complications. Although from what I've seen, I doubt there will be any."
"All right," David nodded.
"By the way, how…how did you know he could answer that?" she asked.
"Lance has an IQ of 148 and rising," David said with a hint of pride in his voice. "Plus he's recently been interested in reading high school psychology textbooks."
"Wow…I see," Versalle said. "Now I understand why you were worried about the head injury. But don't worry; I don't think there will be any cognitive effects. The concussion is moderate, thus why he vomited, and his other injuries are giving him some pain, so I'll have the nurse give him a very mild painkiller to help with that.
"Thank you Doctor."
"Now, I'll let the two of you stay tonight since your presence seems to keep him calm, but we will need to wake him up every couple of hours to check on that concussion. So expect a long night."
"Doctor, to be honest, I don't know if I could sleep tonight," David mused, rubbing his eyes.
"I understand," she said. "I'll let you get back to your son. He seems to need you." David watched as she turned and walked down the hall.
'He may need me, but how much does he trust me?' he wondered.