And with this chapter I have officially surpassed my writing goal of reaching passed 76,944 words! In other words, this fic is now longer than Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, which is a huge milestone for me. Thank you all so much for reading this and leaving nice reviews! It means the world to me. Also, if you want totally look me up on tumblr under the name actingwithportals. I'd love to hear from you! Thanks again for reading, you guys are the best!
Crutchie stirred, the blanket of slumber being pulled away from his eyes. The first thing he noticed was Jack, still fast asleep next to him. His face was contorted, as if he were having a bad dream. Crutchie looked around him, noticing the light shining in through the windows. The sun had finally risen, though he had no idea what time of day it was. He put his focus back on Jack, who's eyes were moving frantically under his lids. He was having a nightmare, that was for sure. Crutchie thought about waking him, but knew that Jack could use all the rest he could get. Instead, he settled for gently stroking the side of his face, brushing away the tangle of messy hair, whispering assurances in his ear.
It didn't seem to do much good. Jack's left hand was gripping tightly at Crutchie's shirt, an occasional whimper escaping him. Crutchie wrapped his arms tightly around Jack, pulling him closer, careful not to bump his injured right hand. "Shh, it's okay," he whispered, wanting to be soothing, but finding himself feeling very discouraged in that. Nothing seemed to work, and Crutchie almost considered giving up and just waking him, when an idea occurred to himself.
Softly, he began to sing the first song that popped into his head. "Come away, come away, death. And in sad cypress, let me be laid. Fly away, fly away, breath. I am slain, I am slain, by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, prepare it. My part of death, no one so true, did share it."
His voice carried throughout the room, the song enchantingly sweet, if not eerie in tone. He continued to hum, sensing Jack easing up beside him. Crutchie closed his eyes, searching his memories for the next verse, and continued to sing.
"Not a flower, not a flower, sweet. On my black coffin, let there be strown. Not a friend, not a friend, greet. My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. A thousand, thousand, sighs to save. Lay me, O, where. Sad true lover, never find my grave, to weep there."
Jack stirred, his eyes rustling open. "What the hell was that?" he mumbled, his voice sounding groggy from sleep.
Crutchie's eyes flew open. "You'se awake?" he exclaimed.
Jack nodded. "What was you singing just now?" he asked, rubbing at his eyes with his good hand.
"It's, uh, a poem by Shakespeare," Crutchie explained. "From his play, Twelfth Night."
"It's depressing as hell," Jack stated. "But it sounded nice." He scooted closer to Crutchie, resting his head on his shoulder. "Could you keep singing?" he asked, his eyes practically begging.
Crutchie smiled. "I'll try to think of something less depressing," he said. Thinking about it for a moment, another song came to him, one that Crutchie hoped would fill Jack with happy memories.
"Seeing life from the top of the world," Crutchie sang. "Nothing needs fighting, and no one needs pity. Thanks for giving this moment to me, when just for a moment things stop. Here at the top of the world."
Jack grinned. "Hey, those aren't your lines," he said.
Crutchie laughed. "I had to sit through every rehearsal, I memorized all the songs in that show," he explained.
Jack hummed. "Sing some more?" he asked.
Crutchie thought about it, trying to think of another song. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away."
"Hey, that's not right," Jack complained. "You'se my sunshine, not the other way around."
"But every time I see you it's like the sun is coming out again," Crutchie explained.
"But that's how I feel about you," Jack argued.
Crutchie laughed. "Guess that means we'se in love, huh?"
Jack's face turned red. "You sap," he muttered.
Crutchie smiled, leaning over to kiss Jack's forehead. "You'se right, I am a sap," he said. "What are you gonna do about it?"
"If I weren't injured in the hospital I'd be tickling you so hard right now," Jack threatened.
Crutchie giggled. "Glad to know where we stand," he said.
They laid in silence, Jack reaching down to take Crutchie's hand and intertwining their fingers. He still had his head resting on Crutchie's shoulder, breathing softly beside him. For a moment, Crutchie had thought Jack had fallen back asleep, when he suddenly felt him stirring again, gripping his hand more tightly.
"Hey Crutchie?" Jack spoke up.
"Yeah?" Crutchie asked.
"You ain't mad at me, are you?" he asked, his voice sounding small.
"Course not, why would I be mad at you?" Crutchie questioned, turning his head to look down at him.
"Cause I winded up here, when I said I would be safe," Jack explained. "I got in that car when I probably shouldn't have, even though I promised you I wouldn't do nothing stupid."
Crutchie frowned. "If I'se mad at anyone it's Spot for driving," he explained. "None of this is your fault."
"I don't want to be mad at anyone," Jack confessed. "I just want to go home."
Crutchie felt his heart break a little inside. "You'll get to go home soon. Doctor said it should just be a day or two, right? That time will fly by and you'll be back home before you know it."
Jack sighed. "Maybe I'll just sleep the whole time," he mused.
"How's your head feeling?" Crutchie asked.
"Still hurts," Jack answered. "It feels like the minute I sit up I'll pass out or something."
"Well, you don't have to sit up anytime soon," Crutchie assured him. "Just keep resting, alright?"
Jack nodded. "Yes, mom," he said.
The rest time only lasted for a few minutes before a knock was heard at the door and a nurse came in, all smiles and offering them good mornings. Jack immediately tried to sit up but the nurse assured him that he could lay still, she just needed to come and get his vitals. She asked him a few standard questions, what was his name, what year it was, who was the current president, all of which Jack answered correctly (though begrudgingly on his name, having to use his given one). He asked how much longer he would have to stay, and the nurse answered that it was up to the doctor, and he would be by to see him soon. Though Jack felt that soon for doctors was a different type of soon than soon for him.
Only a few moments after the nurse left there was another knock on the door, and Jack and Crutchie both hoped that it was the doctor. Instead, in walked Davey, followed by Spot. Jack's face lit up, and he tried sitting up again, this time with no nurse to tell him no. He felt his head swim, but Crutchie was right there, helping to keep him oriented.
"You look like hell," Davey commented, taking a seat in the chair by his bed.
"You don't look too hot yourself," Jack said, noting the dark circles under Davey's eyes.
"Didn't sleep much last night," Davey admitted. "Or, this morning, rather."
"What time is it, anyways?" Jack asked, looking around for a clock.
"A little after eight in the morning," Davey answered. "We just got discharged."
"Lucky you," Jack said bitterly. "They'se gonna try and keep me another day or two I think."
"You probably need it," Davey told him. "You didn't wake up for quite a few hours. That can't be a good sign."
"I feel fine, now," Jack argued. "Just a little nauseous is all."
"That's not a good thing," Davey said. "You have a moderate TBI. You know that can be serious, right?"
Jack waved his hand. "I'se got a thick skull, I'se alright."
Davey sighed. "Just, listen to the doctor and do as he says, okay?" he asked. "You don't need to go getting yourself in more trouble just because you were stubborn."
Jack groaned. "You sound like my mom," he complained.
Davey's eyes softened. "Jack, you do remember that your mom's-"
"Yeah, I know," Jack snapped. "Geez, I didn't hit my head that hard. It was just an expression."
"Well, good to see you're doing well enough to be snappy," Davey commented.
Jack didn't respond to that, instead looking behind him towards Spot, who was standing idly by the door. "And, how are you?" he asked, noting the bandage on his forehead.
Spot gave him an exasperated look. "You'se asking me that?" he questioned, sounding curt.
"Is that a problem or something?" Jack asked, confused.
Spot sighed. "You'se the one with a brain injury, we should be asking you that," he told him stiffly.
"I already said, I'se fine," Jack answered. "And what about you? Looks to me like you got an injury, yourself."
"I'se fine," Spot answered shortly.
Jack looked down at Davey. "And you?" he asked.
Davey shrugged. "Just a concussion, nothing serious," he explained. "We got off easy."
Jack nodded. "Guess luck was on our side, huh?"
Davey nodded. "Though it could have been avoided in the first place," he muttered.
"Oh, come on, Davey; we both got in the car," Jack argued. "If anything, it's all of our faults."
Davey shook his head. "Don't do that," he said. "Don't try and shift the blame away from where it needs to be."
"Well, if you two hadn't been arguing, maybe we wouldn't have wrecked in the first place," Jack pointed out.
"I wouldn't have been arguing if Spot hadn't given me a reason to argue," Davey snapped.
"Maybe you two could learn a thing and not argue now?" Crutchie mumbled. "Since it ended so well last time."
Neither Jack nor Davey had a response for that, both immediately going quiet.
The room felt charged, as if there were still a million words to be spoken that no one was prepared to utter. Crutchie felt as if he were invading somehow, and almost got up to excuse himself when Spot soddenly spoke up.
"Jack," he said quietly, looking up to make eye contact with him.
Jack looked up, meeting his eyes. "Yeah, Spot?" he asked.
"I'se . . . so sorry," he said. "To both of you."
"Sorry doesn't fix it," Davey mumbled.
"What do you want me to do?" Spot demanded. "Tell me, and I'll do it."
Davey got up from his seat, marching over to Spot and getting in his face. "I want you to mean it," he said. "I want you to mean it more than you've meant anything in your life. I want you to not only apologize to us, but to Crutchie, and Race and Katherine, and my family, and anyone else who's lives you would have affected if any of us had died this morning. I want you to never drink again, or drive above the speed limit if you ever get your license back. I want you to understand what you've done and realize how wrong you were to try and get in that car to drive. I don't care that you weren't fully intoxicated; you knew your personal limits and you broke them. I want you to never forget that for as long as you live, do you understand me?"
Spot nodded. "I understand," he said quietly. "I screwed up. I thought I was okay, but I wasn't. I should have never risked your lives like that, or anyone else's, for that matter," he paused, looking square at Davey. "I know you expect better of me; I'se sorry for letting you down." He looked over at Jack. "I'se sorry for what happened, Jack. It should have been me who got the worst of it, not you, especially since it was supposed to be your night." He now looked at Crutchie. "And I'se sorry for giving you something to worry about. You didn't deserve that. None of you did. I'se just . . . I don't know what else to say. I'se sorry."
"It's okay, Spot," Jack said. "I'se not mad with you. Just, don't do it again, okay?"
Spot nodded. "Never," he agreed. He looked back at Davey, who was still staring him down hard. "Well?" he asked. "What else can I do to make it up to you? Please, just tell me. I'll do anything."
Davey didn't immediately answer, the gears turning in his head. Crutchie could have sworn he was going to set off on him again, but instead did the unexpected and pulled Spot into a hug.
"I'm just glad we aren't dead," Davey muttered, holding back angry tears that threatened to escape at any moment. "Don't you dare do anything so stupid again, you hear me?"
Spot just stood there, shocked. Awkwardly, he patted Davey on the back, not knowing what else to do and not entirely comfortable with being hugged so tightly. "Whatever you say," he said, his own voice feeling strained.
Crutchie smiled, glad to see that things could finally be looking up. It didn't mean there still wouldn't be struggles in the future, he could only imagine the amount of trouble Spot was going to be in as soon as he left the hospital, but knowing that they all still had each other's backs made facing that seem a lot less scary. He was sure Spot felt the same way.
Davey broke away, straightening up his shirt and trying to hide the small sniffle that escaped him. "Anyways," he said. "Chances are you're going to be fired, so just be prepared for that, okay?"
Spot nodded. "I figured as much," he admitted.
"Maybe you could put in a good word for him to the owner?" Jack offered. "He's our best guy at the shop; we can't lose him."
Davey shrugged. "I may be the manager, but my opinion only holds so much weight. I'll do what I can, but I make no promises. You just need to prepare for the worst. Besides, it's probably going to depend on what happens in court. For now, you'll most likely get fired, or at least suspended. Until you hear from a judge, though, your status for coming back could be up in the air."
Spot nodded. "I understand," he said.
Davey returned to his seat, Spot moving from his place by the door and taking a seat as well on the foot of Jack's bed. For a while, they all talked and joked like nothing had happened, forgetting for a brief moment the nightmare that had occurred only hours before. It was nice, and it gave Crutchie hope that over time everything would be alright again. They were going to be okay, even amidst all of this.
Before long, a nurse returned to the room, bringing Jack some breakfast. It was hard to get him to eat, Jack complaining that the very sight of food made him feel sick. Eventually, they got him to get down some yogurt and a banana, but shortly after Jack complained of feeling nauseous, and promptly had to be helped to the bathroom to empty the contents of his stomach. This worried all of them, and Davey decided to get up and find out when the doctor was going to be back to see him. They decided it was best for Jack to lay back down and try and get some more sleep, since he was still complaining of a headache. Jack complied without argument, settling into the bed and almost immediately falling back asleep.
Davey returned to the room, looking exasperated. "Nurses say it could be anywhere from now to another hour or two," he complained. "They sure do take their sweet time here."
"It's like this at every hospital," Crutchie explained. "It's usually because doctors have several other patients to see and work to sort through. He'll be here as soon as he can."
Davey sat back down in his chair. "I wish it were sooner," he grumbled.
"Hey, what happened to Race and Kath and your family, anyways?" Crutchie asked.
"Think they all went downstairs to get some breakfast," Davey answered. "Said they wanted to give us some time to talk to Jack, anyways. Thinking about it now, I should probably go find them," he added, getting back up from his seat.
"I'll go with you," Spot said, getting up as well.
Davey nodded. "We'll be back soon, okay?" he said. "Text us if anything happens."
Crutchie nodded. "Will do," he said.
Davey and Spot left the room, leaving Crutchie alone with Jack once again. He lied back down, resting his head on the pillow next to Jack's and watching as he slept. He seemed to sleep more peacefully now, his eyes perfectly still under their lids, and his breathing completely even. Crutchie smiled, though worry still filled him. He hoped Jack would recover soon and get to leave this place. It was bad enough he didn't have the use of his right hand for who knew how long, but to also have a brain injury was terrifying, to say the least. He hoped it wouldn't have any lasting effects, even though the doctor did warn them that it would be possible. But he supposed he shouldn't complain too much; Jack and the others were all alive, and that was the most important thing. Anything else they could work through, together.
It wasn't going to be easy, but it would be worth it.