Thank you so much Ktoon for beta'ing, polishing, and spotting my many wonky wording sections. Thank you also VegasGranny and Ncsupnatfan for pre-reading. You ladies rock x
Since I finished posting Can't Find My Way Home last week, I've moved the Echoes update day to Wednesdays. You get it a little early this week but it will be a week until the next update. See you all then xxx
Chapter Six
The evening after Sam had been removed from the ventilator he was taken to a step-down unit, as his required care needs weren't so intensive. A day after that, he was moved to a private room on a general ward where there was a sleeper chair for them to stay the night. Unlike in the ICU where their overnight stays were tolerated, it was encouraged in the new ward. They were all waiting for Sam to wake up imminently, and a familiar presence was known to help disoriented patients stay calm upon waking. They didn't have to leave the room so often for Sam to be attended to either. It made for a more relaxed atmosphere for them all.
Mary had eventually been able to persuade Dean to go back to the motel to sleep since Sam had been moved, and she had her nights with him alone. She preferred it that way. She knew Dean felt the same need to be there that they all did, but when she was alone, she could let down her guard a little. She still hadn't broken completely, though she knew she would at some point. Sometimes the tears came, and she let herself be weak when it was just her and Sam.
Sam looked better. His fever was completely gone now, and his lungs were clearing by the day. The main concern now, other than the fact he was still unconscious, was any possible injury to his back, and they wouldn't know if that was an issue until he was awake. They had considered doing an MRI while he was sleeping still, but the fact he was expected to wake any moment and none of them wanted him waking inside a scanner, alone, made them decide against it.
Now Mary's immediate fears for his life were gone, her concern for his heart and mind were more pressing. She had been so occupied with what they were doing to save Sam's life that what the world he woke up to would be like for him, without the woman he loved, hadn't seemed as important to her. Now she knew his waking was approaching at any moment, she worried about how he was going to suffer when he found Jessica was gone.
Dean had been thinking about it, she knew. When they had gone to the cafeteria together for dinner the day before—leaving Bobby with Sam—he'd confided his fears to her, and she hadn't known what to say to ease them for him. She had felt that kind of grief before so she knew what Sam was going to go through. She wouldn't wish it on an enemy, let alone her own son.
Meeting Elizabeth and Michael hadn't just made her see the depths of a parent's grief that she had been spared, it also made her freshly see the suffering of love and loss. Sam was going to suffer so much.
But, despite that, she wanted him to wake up. She wanted her child to be released from the horrible, still, empty immobility. She was selfish, not cruel. She just loved her sons so much that she wanted them to be with her, even if it would be hard for them. Dean needed Sam awake for his own peace of mind, and she wanted him to have that; she wanted Sam to finally be able to see her and know she was there for him, that he wasn't alone.
Bobby had gone back out to get them something to eat, as they were all sick of cafeteria food, and Dean was dozing in the more comfortable sleeper chair. Mary was sitting at Sam's bedside, holding his hand and speaking quietly to him so as not to wake Dean. She was talking about memories of him and the things she and Dean had been doing since they'd last seen him. She wanted it to be as normal for him as it could be if he was hearing her.
She had lulled herself into a kind of trance with her words and the sound of Sam's heart recorded on the monitor, but she noticed the moment it changed and her mind snapped back to full alertness.
Sam's hand twitched in hers and his heart began to beat faster.
Dean, attuned to the sounds of the room, jolted awake and said Sam's name before his eyes were even all the way open. "What's happening?" he asked, his eyes moving between Mary's face, Sam's, and the heart monitor.
Mary didn't answer for a moment, not wanting to get his hopes up, but then Sam's hand moved again and his eyes began to roll under their lids as his breaths sped.
"He's waking up!" she said excitedly. She stood and leaned over the bed, cupping Sam's face in her hands. "Sam, honey, it's okay. We're here."
She wanted her face to be the first thing he saw when waking, and when his eyes cracked open and fixed on her, she breathed a shaky laugh that sounded more like a sob.
"Hello, love," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
Sam blinked slowly, seeming only half awake.
Dean was frozen, standing on the other side of the bed, his eyes on his brother. Mary smiled encouragingly at him and said, "Talk to him."
Dean licked his lips and moved a little closer to the bed. "Hey, Sammy."
Sam tried to turn toward him, but the brace around his neck restricted the movement. His eyes widened, and his breaths came fast as the heart monitor began to race.
"Shh," Mary soothed. "You can't move too much yet. You've got a neck brace on. You had a fall. Take a deep breath for me. You can do it."
Sam's heart continued to climb, and he struggled to turn his head. Mary picked up his hand and pressed it to her chest, exaggerating her breaths so he had something to measure against. "Breathe with me," she said. "Nice and slow."
She could see Sam trying, but the panic had gripped him, and he struggled to find the rhythm.
"Come closer, Dean," she said. "Talk to him."
She moved back slightly as Dean leaned over the bed so Sam could see him. He stopped struggling against the brace, but his breaths still came too fast.
"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said in the gentle voice he usually reserved for traumatized victims on hunts. "Just breathe."
When Sam failed to settle, Dean's eyes darted to Mary. "Should I get someone?"
Mary wasn't sure whether Dean leaving would make it better or worse for Sam, but as his fingers fisted in the fabric of her shirt and his chest began to rasp, making him cough, she said, "Yes!" quickly and Dean dashed from the room.
She was worried Sam was going to choke since he couldn't move his head to clear his throat, and she rubbed his chest gently as he coughed, the same way she had when he was a baby suffering with colic.
"Someone is coming, Sammy," she said. "We've just got to make sure your neck is okay, then he can get this brace off. Take some deep breaths for me."
Sam closed his eyes and she could see him trying to master himself, but he still coughed and each gasp in made his chest rattle with congestion. She saw now that when they said his chest was clearing, it was relative to what it had been before.
She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed his palm. "I love you," she whispered. "I love you so much."
Sam began to calm, his breaths coming easier and the cough dying down, though he still looked scared.
She stroked his cheek. "That's it," she encouraged. "Nice and slow."
Sam licked his lips and seemed to be trying to say something. She leaned close to hear, but his words were indecipherable, just a breath against her cheek.
"You've had a tube down your throat," she said. "It might be hard to talk for a while. Just relax."
Sam cleared his throat and tried again. "Mom," he rasped, "where's Jess?"
Mary closed her eyes and felt tears burn. She didn't want to have to tell him, not while he was already struggling, but she knew he would accept nothing but honesty from her. He believed she was always honest with him and had been since he'd found out the truth about the world, ending the secrets about her 'job'. He had no idea she was keeping the biggest and worst secret of her guilt from him.
"I'm sorry, Sammy," she said, a tear spilling down her cheek and onto his face as she pressed her forehead to his. "She didn't…"
Sam drew a shaky breath and whispered, "She's dead?"
Mary drew back and nodded. "Yes, Sam, she's gone."
Sam nodded as much as the brace allowed and closed his eyes.
Mary stroked his cheek and said, "I'm sorry, honey. I'm so sorry."
He didn't seem to hear her. His eyes remained closed.
Mary grappled for something to say to him, trying to remember anything anyone had said to her after John had died that had helped even a little, but she knew in her heart there was nothing she could do for him. Trying to give him physical comfort was only helping her.
She looked around as the door opened, and Doctor Bates—the one that had been taking care of Sam since he moved to the ward—came in, followed by a nurse she remembered was called Tyson, and Dean.
"I hear Sam's awake," Doctor Bates said cheerfully as she approached the bed.
Mary withdrew her hands from Sam reluctantly and stepped back to allow her and Tyson clear access. She moved to stand with Dean at the end of the bed, watching Sam carefully. He had opened his eyes again, and though they were dry, there was something in them that disconcerted Mary. It wasn't pain or fear. It was almost as if he was feeling nothing at all.
"Hello, Sam. I'm Doctor Bates," she said. "I just need to run a few tests and then we can see about getting the brace off. I hear you're having trouble with it."
Sam brought a hand to his neck and touched the plastic brace. "I want it off," he whispered.
"I know, and we will remove it as soon as we can. First, I need you to do something for me." She picked up his hand and said, "Squeeze as hard as you can."
Sam's fingers tightened, and she nodded approvingly before taking a pen from her pocket and moving it across his vision.
"That's good. Can you follow the pen for me?"
Sam's eyes tracked the movement and then, at the doctor's command, he wiggled his toes, wincing slightly.
"Are you having pain?" she asked.
Sam nodded slightly. "My chest and back."
"How bad is it on a scale of one to ten?"
Sam considered a moment. "Six."
"Okay, we'll get you some more pain relief and take you for an MRI scan. If it's indicated after that, we'll remove the brace to give you some more movement."
"Thanks," Sam said quietly.
The doctor turned back to Mary and Dean and said, "If you could just give us a moment, Tyson will prepare Sam to move to radiology. The MRI will take around an hour, and we'll need to run some othertests as well. We'll need Sam for at least two hours, so if you want to get yourself something to eat or some fresh air, now's the time."
Mary looked at Sam, seeing the empty look in his eyes and hating it, as she said, "We'll be here when you get back, Sam."
"Okay," Sam said vaguely.
Mary and Dean walked from the room and stopped in the hall. Mary leaned against the wall and raked her hands over her face. "I had to tell him," she said miserably. "He asked."
Dean's brows pinched together. "About Jess?"
Mary nodded.
He looked confused. "But he was so… Do you think he understood?"
"I think so, but he didn't really react. He just seemed to close down. He didn't even cry."
"Then he didn't understand," Dean said decisively. He glanced back at the door. "Let's call Bobby and give him the good news. We can meet him downstairs. He should be back soon, and Sam probably doesn't want us watching as he's taken for his scan." When Mary failed to move, he tugged her arm and said, "Come on, Mom. Give him a little space."
Mary rubbed at the tears that had dried on her cheeks and walked with Dean to the elevators. He stayed close to her as they rode downstairs, as if he knew she needed him close, and only moved away when they reached the ground floor and stepped into the lobby.
She was feeling strangely torn. Sam was awake, and that made her feel like she could breathe properly for the first time in days, but his reaction and what she knew was coming for him made her happiness feel less real.
Dean pulled out his phone, but Bobby was already walking towards them, his eyebrows drawing together and his lips pressing into a line of worry when he saw them.
He increased his pace and said, "Sam?"
"He's awake," Mary said, a wide smiled breaking over her face and her eyes beginning to burn again. "They've taken him for an MRI."
Bobby breathed out in a gust. "Oh, thank god. How is he?"
Mary had no idea how to explain how Sam was. She wasn't even sure she knew herself. He'd seemed so different after she told him Jessica was dead. Sam always felt everything so openly. He never hid an emotion, be it happiness, sadness or anger. He shared everything. He was like John in that. Dean was more like Mary; he was able to hide what he was feeling when he needed to. Sam never seemed to feel that need.
"He wanted the brace off," Dean said when it became obvious Mary wasn't going to answer.
"It's probably uncomfortable," Bobby said. "But what about the rest? Does he know about Jess?"
"He asked me, and I told him," Mary admitted, the pain of that moment very real to her again. "But maybe he didn't understand. He didn't really react."
Bobby looked startled. "Not at all?"
"Not really. He just closed his eyes. The doctor came in then, so he was distracted."
"He wouldn't be distracted from that kind of pain," Bobby said. "He can't understand." As a woman skirted around them with a sigh, he lifted the paper sack in his hand and said, "Let's get somewhere we can talk. I've got sandwiches here."
They walked together across the lobby to the area where other groups of people were seated on cushioned chairs, some of them looked tense, as if waiting for news, and others exhausted. They found a quiet corner and sat down together.
Bobby handed out long, wrapped sandwiches and cans of coke, but Mary and Dean both held theirs on their laps, making no movement to eat.
"He's going to be confused," Bobby said. "It's natural. Coma patients are usually a little slow when they wake up."
"I know that," Mary reminded him. "But he woke up unusually fast. He was stressed about the brace, but he was tracking and talking pretty quick." She drew in a deep breath to calm her thoughts. "It's got to be shock. He doesn't understand yet."
"What's going to happen when he does?" Dean asked.
Bobby shrugged. "It's different for everyone. But the Sam we know, the way he always is, it's going to be rough to see. He's not going to be hiding it."
"I don't want him to," Mary stated firmly. "We need to know how he feels so we can help him."
"We'll see it," Bobby said confidently. "And he'll let us know what to do. Sam always does."
Feeling slightly comforted, Mary nodded and squeezed Dean's hand. "We'll all be able to help him."
Dean sighed, still looking doubtful. "I sure hope so."
Mary understood. This was new territory for them all, having to see Sam go through this, but she and Bobby had felt it themselves and could relate in a unique way compared to how Dean would see and feel it. When Dean had lost John, he had grieved in a different way. He'd been confused, and it had taken time for him to understand that what Mary meant when she said his father was gone was that he could never come back. His small world had been torn apart, but it'd happened to him slower than it had to Mary and Bobby with their losses. They had known the finality of death straight away.
But Dean had been amazing so far. He'd dealt with what was happening and comforted Mary as much as he'd been able through his own fear and sadness. She was so proud of him for how he'd handled it, and she knew he was going to continue to make her proud as they helped Sam through it.
She touched his face and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Dean," she said seriously.
Dean's looked puzzled. "I know. I love you, too, Mom."
"I mean it," Mary said. "And I'm proud of you. You've been strong throughout all this."
"I don't feel strong," Dean admitted. "I felt useless back there. I still do."
"You're not," Bobby said. "We don't know how the next few weeks are going to go for any of us. All we know is that Sam is going to need us, and I'm not worried about how you're going to handle that. I've seen it already. You've made us both proud."
Dean ducked his head, looking pleased. Mary was always open in her affection for her sons; she made sure they knew how much she loved them and how proud she was of them, but Bobby was more reticent. Praise from him was valued by Sam and Dean even more, as it was rarely given and therefore more precious.
Mary thought Bobby had said exactly what Dean needed to hear, and it would help him with what was coming. Sam wasn't just going to need her and Bobby. He needed Dean, too, perhaps even more, as he looked up to his brother and relied on him in a different way to how he needed them.
She had a feeling Dean was the one that was going to see the most of what Sam was going to feel for the next weeks and months, and Dean was going to rise to the challenge as he always did.
Her son was a good man.
So… Sam is awake and things are about to get a little more complicated. It was easier to write him sleeping than what he will be like now he's awake.
Until next time…
Clowns or Midgets xxx
