Thank you so much, Sherry and Paige, my beautiful betas! Note for this chapter, I'm NOT a doctor but I've unfortunately had a few surgeries.
"She says, 'Wake up, it's no use pretending'
I'll keep stealing, breathing her
Birds are leaving over autumn's ending
One of us will die inside these arms
Eyes wide open, naked as we came
One will spread our ashes around the yard.
She says, 'If I leave before you, darling
Don't you waste me in the ground'
I lay smiling like our sleeping children
One of us will die inside these arms
Eyes wide open, naked as we came
One will spread our ashes around the yard."
-Iron & Wine-
EPOV:
I open my eyes and gaze around a room I've never seen before. Everything's white and fucking befuddled. Beds appear to be lining the walls and bodies that look like blurs of blue dart around the circular room. The smell of iodoform and countless chemicals burns my nostrils, making me want to be anywhere but here. I try to sit up, but my head is fucking aching worse than any hangover I've ever had. My head falls back against the pillow and my brain feels like it's pulsing in my skull. I groan, noticing how dry my fucking mouth feels. I move my mouth around until some saliva manages to wet my tongue and cringe at the taste of disinfectant and medicine. My throat fucking aches and as my world becomes less of a blur, I realize my entire body aches as well. What the hell happened?
"Look who's awake," a strange woman says, before bending over my bed to get a better look at me.
Before I can register who the fuck she is, she helps me into a sitting position and hands me a cup of ice chips for my throat. My haze begins to lift as I suck on the ice, causing my vision to become clearer. I feel like I've woken up from a dream. An extremely bad and disturbing nightmare. I don't remember much, I sure as hell don't remember how I ended up here, but I remember finding Paul and trying my fucking hardest to save him. My eyes widen at the memory, and I sit further up in my bed, ignoring the pain that shoots from my head all the way down to my toes, and wildly look around the room for a glimpse of him.
"Sit back, Edward," the woman, who I assume is a nurse or something due to her bright blue scrubs. "Your surgery was successful, but now you've got to relax and take it easy."
My surgery? As if I'd finally woken up, I'm quickly brought back to reality and all the memories of the past few hours flood my mind. My eyes are finally open to all this shit and it's fucking horrifying. I quickly look down at my aching body, seeing that my right shoulder is wrapped up in bandages. Everything else seems to still be intact, but bruising and swelling covers large areas of my body, adding to the dull pain of my already aching muscles.
The nurse gives me a sympathetic look before quickly walking toward her desk and coming back with what looks to be a needle in her hand, and I fucking flinch. I know I'm covered in tattoos-but I fucking hate needles. How fucking ironic. Instead of poking me with it, she injects something into my IV and gives me a comforting smile.
"The fentanyl should make you feel better pretty soon," she simply says.
As soon as she finishes, I look up at her, waiting for an explanation. In terms I barely understand, she explains I'd been shot in the shoulder and shattered my clavicle. She says that I'm lucky the paramedics arrived when they did.
"You were shot in the shoulder and that severed your brachial artery. If you had arrived just minutes later you could have been in a lot of trouble. Someone must have been looking out for you," she says with a smile, I'm sure was intended to be comforting.
I snort at her words and a sharp pain shoots up my side.
"Are you ready to see your family? Once we get you settled in your room, you'll be able to see them."
I shake my head, quickly scanning the room to find Paul. Is he alive? I remember the look in his eyes before everything went black. It was so haunted, so filled with pain, that it would've taken my fucking breath away if the blood loss hadn't caused me to pass out. What if he ended his own life as soon as I wasn't there to protect him from himself?
"Paul?" I ask, not recognizing the sound of my voice. It's rough and sounds like I've smoked multiple packs of cigarettes a day for fucking decades.
The nurse's brows crease in confusion, and I know she doesn't understand who the fuck I'm referring to. I don't know if this is good news or bad. If he was in critical condition he would've been taken to this hospital as well, and the nurse would've most likely heard the name at some point during the night if he went in for surgery considering she works in the recovery room. If he hadn't been rushed to the ER for an emergency surgery there are two possibilities my drugged-up mind can come up with. The first being, he's alive and decided not to go through with it, and the second… Well, the second possibility isn't something I want to contemplate. Paul has to be fucking okay. If I did that all for nothing it'd be fucking devastating. Not because I ended up in a hospital bed because of him. Hell, I would take a bullet for him multiple times if it meant he I would be saving his life. It'd be fucking devastating because his death would mean that I've failed again. He'd be another person I couldn't fucking save. As illogical as I know that sounds, I can't deny the guilt that weighs on my heart every day. I can't ignore the voices in my head that tell me I could've done better.
"Let's get him to his room," my nurse says to another nurse.
She grabs my IV from the pole and hooks it onto my hospital bed before she wheels me out of the recovery room with the help of another nurse. The halls are fairly quiet for a trauma hospital, causing me to wonder how fucking late it is. How long was I out for? I feel like I'm going to go right back to sleep as soon as I get to my room. The nurse helps me to the bathroom, because my bladder feels like it's going to explode after all the IV fluid, before she gets me into the bed and turns on the TV mounted to the wall in front of me."
"Thanks—," I say, looking for her name badge.
"Debbie," she quickly answers, before giving me a kind smile. "I'll get your family and tell them it's finally time for them to come back. They've been out there for a while."
My heart drops at the thought of my family worrying for me. I can't imagine how hard this has been on Bella, she always worries about me enough as it is, now that she actually has something to worry about I can't imagine how heartbroken and worried she must be. Once I know they're here waiting for me, they're all I want to see. I just want to see Bella's face and hold Charlie in my arms. I just want to know that everyone is okay.
I don't have to wait long, before my whole family comes rushing into my room, with the nurse diligently following behind them. As soon as I see the look on Bella's face, I fucking breakdown in front of my family. I've got no idea what I look like, but judging by their faces, it must be horrible.
"Oh, Edward!" Bella cries, rushing toward me with our teary-eyed son in her arms.
As soon as she gets close enough to touch me, she stops and stares at my wounds with pity and disbelief burning in her eyes. Don't cry for me, angel. Everything's okay now, and we're together. I'd been so blindsided by rage and the painful burn of betrayal, that I hadn't put my family first like I needed to. I could've died tonight and Charlie would've lost another father. I can't take a risk like that again. The fucked-up part of it all is, I don't even know the outcome yet. I don't even know if my risk was worth it in the end.
I hold out my freshly bandaged hand, and urge Bella forward, wanting desperately to feel her warm body wrapped around mine. A sob escapes her lips before she sits carefully on the hospital bed at my side and wraps one of her arms around me, while the other arm holds our crying son safely in her lap.
"Da da?" Charlie sobs, uncontrollably. "Da da!"
I give Bella a kiss on the cheek, enjoying the way her soft skin feels under my busted lip, before asking for Charlie to be set onto my lap, and hugging him as tight as my bandages will allow. As I'm holding him, I look at my parents, who are quietly talking to the nurse. Mom's in tears and Dad has his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders, his entire body tense as he listens to the nurse. What the fuck is she saying to them? Is it about Paul?
"Da da!" Charlie whines again, begging for my attention.
"It's okay, buddy. Daddy's here. I got you, Charlie."
I carefully bounce him on my lap with the little strength I have left. He smiles for a moment, before he sees the bandage on my shoulder and curiously points, his eyes wide and filling with fresh tears. I kiss his forehead, wanting to assure him that I'm not leaving him, that I'm alright.
"Daddy got a boo boo, buddy," I try to explain to him.
He crawls across my lap until his face is right next to my bandages, and then he gives the bandage a quick kiss before looking up at me as if he were expecting a change. He's trying to kiss it to make it better, like I've done with him so many times before. Fuck, that thought makes me feel really sappy. It's the cutest thing I've ever fucking seen.
"Boo boo, da da?" He asks, pointing toward my shoulder.
Honestly, my shoulder's so fucking numb, I forgot it was even hurt. It's tender when I move it, but as long as I stay perfectly still and let the drugs do their work, I don't feel any pain. However, Charlie's concern does make my heart feel a lot better at least. It's rotting in turmoil and my son is doing his best to pull me out of it.
"Thanks, buddy. Daddy feels a lot better."
"Boo boo, no! Da Da!"
I laugh at his babbling and instantly realize my mistake as a sharp pain shoots up my side.
"Want me to take him?" Bella softly asks, as she runs her hand through my hair.
Her touch feels so fucking good. With her at my side and Charlie in my arms, I feel like I'm slowly coming down from the rage fueled high I was on, and drifting back to where I was before I found out the life-altering news. Slowly, I remember the man I had worked so hard to become in these past few months.
"I got him, Bella. I love holding him," I say quietly, allowing Charlie to make himself comfortable in my lap.
The nurse gives me a small, comforting smile before leaving the room to give me some time alone with my family. My parents walk to my hospital bed and crowd around me. Their looks varying from sadness, anger and pity. My father is rigid and his face is tight and calculating. I wonder what he knows that I don't. I open my mouth to speak, but my father waves his hand dismissively, obviously not ready to talk, before taking a seat at my bedside. Mom gives me a watery smile, before sitting down next to him, placing her hand in his. I watch as my dad runs his hand roughly over his face, something I always do when I'm nervous. He leans back in his chair and gives me an evaluating once-over, before he sadly shakes his head and looks away.
"Is Paul—," I trail off, because the question sounds too horrible to utter out loud. "Is he okay?" I manage.
Agony washes over my dad's face, before anger takes over and he stares back at me. "He's fine," he says in a clipped tone. "Do you remember what happened?"
Where the fuck do I begin? How much does my dad already know? Do I tell him all about the horrible shit I saw? Should I tell him that Paul confessed everything to me before he attempted to shoot himself in the head? I sit in silence, trying to read my dad's face, hoping it will give me some hint as to what to do. However, his face is completely fucking blank, as if he were too afraid to show any emotion at the moment.
"What do you know?" I finally ask.
"I know he shot you," he answers quietly, his eyes blazing with anger.
"Is that it?" I press.
My dad's face tightens and his eyes fill with tears he tries desperately to reign in. Fuck, he knows. I wonder how he found out.
"Where is he now?" I ask.
"He's in jail," my dad spits out, before he takes a deep breath to get control of himself. "He turned himself in after he called for an ambulance for you."
So, he's not a complete fucking coward after all. The nurse's words come back to me. If I'd gotten her mere minutes later, I could've been dead. With my shoulder shot and my artery severed, I would've bled out if Paul hadn't called for help. His guilt for the death of my brother must have been consuming him if he was okay with throwing everything in his life away to do the right thing and turn himself in. Apparently, he didn't want to be a fucking coward anymore. He didn't want to have another death on his conscious. Instead of running away from his problems, he gave me a fighting chance.
We both wanted to overcome our demons, we both wanted to leave the past behind us. I thought it'd be easier to leave the darkness behind. We both thought that some AA meetings and therapy sessions would fix us. However, we weren't completely consumed by the darkness then, it's like we were just walking on a fucking tightrope above it, taunting it and waiting for it to consume us. That's what made relapsing so fucking horrifying, because deep down we must have both knew it to be possible. We never truly overcame anything; therefore, our past wasn't as far as we had thought it to be.
We had to walk into the darkness together. Hand and hand, with blood, sweat, and tears, we faced our personal demons so they couldn't consume us. Those terrifying moments with a loaded gun between us had me seeing my entire life flash before my eyes. In my haze, I saw Seth's smiling face in the back of my mind, I saw the faces of Bella, Charlie, and our entire family. I saw the faces of my future children, I saw the images of my future life. In that darkest moment of my life, I realized I had everything to live for. I no longer fear myself, because after the horrors of tonight, I know there's no going back to my old life.
"Do you know about Seth and Kate?" I ask my dad, who is growing increasingly defeated at my side.
My heart goes out to him. He's spent his night in the hospital waiting for his only living son to get out of emergency surgery, and he's found out the details of Seth and Kate's death all in the same night. As I rock Charlie slowly in my arms, I watch my dad as his strong demeanor changes and he crumbles before my eyes.
"This is the same hospital your brother died in," he tells me with a shaky voice. His hand is shaking in front of his mouth, as if he was waiting to suppress the sobs that threatened to escape at any moment. "We were waiting for you to get out of surgery for such a long time and then when you were in the recovery room. It took you hours to wake up. We were all so afraid."
Mom wraps her arms around his shoulder and presses her cheek against his head, which is bowed down so I can't look at his face.
"Dad, I didn't mean to put you through this all over again," I say, having a hard time watching my dad, who's always been a role model to me, breakdown in front of me. "I wasn't thinking about anything. I got this horrible feeling and I knew I had to see Paul," I rasp out, my voice still hoarse from the tube that was shoved down my throat during surgery. "I thought he was going to skip town or something. When I got there, he had a gun on his lap and this terrible blank look on his face. Dad, I had to stop him. I wasn't here to save me brother"—I stop speaking for a moment to suppress my sob— "I wasn't there to save Seth, so I knew I had to save Paul. Or at least I knew I had to try, Dad. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if he died too."
"You were in no way responsible for your brother's death, Edward." Dad shakes his head and gives me a look filled with pity. "You're always so hard on yourself. That's why I never hauled your ass growing up like I used to for Seth," he says with a sad, reminiscent chuckle.
"I've just felt so guilty," I say quietly.
"You used to wish it were you," my dad says, looking me dead in the eye.
I want to look away, but his gaze seems to lock with mine. "I could tell. As soon as you got back to Washington and began taking care of Charlie, I could tell."
I hear a quiet gasp at my side, and break eye contact with him long enough to look at Bella. She doesn't seem shocked, apparently my tendency for self-loathing isn't news to her, but she cries for me anyway. Seeing her like this causes my own eyes to fill with tears, even though I feel as if I've cried enough during the last 24 hours. I try to give her a look that shows how much I love her, silently telling her that I'd never think about offing myself, now that my past is finally behind me.
"I did feel really guilty for being alive," I admit, turning back toward my dad. "I used to think that Seth had everything to live for and it was fucking terrible that he had to be the one to go. I'd been worthless for so long, I'd could've disappeared and you and Seth would've been the only people who would've really miss me," I tell my dad, who looks fucking angry as he listens to my words.
"I'm sorry," I quietly state. "That's just the way I've always felt up until recently."
"What changed that?" He asks, his face tense as he's trying to contain himself.
"Charlie and Bella," I answer without hesitation. "I have a family of my own now. They've been such a fucking blessing, without their love I honestly don't know where I'd be in my life."
A/N: You like what I did there at the end . Quick note, I know when you wake up from surgery in the recovery room they give you a bedpan, but I really didn't want to write about Edward using a bedpan. I used one before and it was awkward. Although, after receiving a ton of IV fluid, I have to say it was not as embarrassing as I thought it would be, but still…
Also, today is my birthday and since you guys have been so amazing when it comes to reviewing, I decided to go to sleep a little later just so I could publish this for you guys! So, feel free to review! Like usual, I'm dying to hear what you have to say!
Only two chapters left! Until next time…