Disclaimer: Ah yes, the last time I need to assure all of you that I don't own these people!
Author's Note: This is it! The final chapter! Warning: I wrote this from about 10:00PM-3:00AM so for anything my spellchecker or my eyes missed I am apologizing up front. I tried my hardest to make it all make sense forgive me if you get confused. Just email me with your question and I'll try to remember why I wrote such an awful mess. Oh yeah and just because I watch ER doesn't make me fluent in their hospital jargon so please be kind.
Chapter 8
Suddenly, the scene on the pier came flooding back to her. Could she have just been dreaming and been asleep the whole time? If so when had she gone to bed? No, she decided, she couldn't have been dreaming. It had all seemed way too real. She must have fallen asleep in Pacey's arms, she decided. He must have carried her up to the house. That was the most logical explanation. Then again, she thought, there didn't seem to be much room for a lot of logic these days. She threw back her covers and arose from her bed. Judging by the pool of moonlight coming through her curtains and spilling onto her bedroom floor she could tell it was late.
"What time is it?" she asked the room. She turned her head, and as if on cue, her bedside clock shouted 12:00 in big, bright, green numbers.
"Midnight!" she groaned knowing it would be hours before she would get back to sleep at this rate. "Now, what to do with myself?" She said to the darkened room. A slight rumble in her stomach answered her furiously. "Well, I suppose the kitchen would be a good place to start." She dragged herself to the door and turned the knob, stepping out into the dimly lit hallway. Out in the hallway she could see a light on in the kitchen. One of the guests must have had a little trouble sleeping, she surmised. Her stomach grumbled again, this time the pain was more constant.
"Oh all right," she whispered, hoping her stomach wasn't waking the whole house. "Or maybe they just have a stubborn stomach like mine."
She continued her journey to the kitchen, stopping short in the doorway. "What's going on here?"
*****
Where was he? Everything was painted white everywhere he looked. There was only one dark corner and something told him to stay away from that section. He could only see shapes and forms. None of them were fully developed. All he could hear were faint whispers. But he couldn't find their source. They seemed to be coming from everywhere. He wasn't sure how long he'd been in this place or even when he'd gotten there. It was all so weird; one moment he was in the car and the next . . .he was here. (Wherever here was.) At first he'd only seen white, there had been no shapes, and no whispers just . . . white. The longer he had stayed the more detailed his dimension had become. Soon he could make out faint sounds that developed into inaudible voices. The longer he lingered, the more perceptible the voices had become. Now, he was able to catch on to some of the words...love . . .miss . . .please . . .fight . . . What they meant, he had no idea, but he knew they must be important to have been so clear as opposed to the others he still couldn't make out. Soon after, the shapes and forms had appeared. Hazy at first, it seemed their clarity was trying to break through, but they were all still horribly underdeveloped. Still there was something about this place . . . the voices, the shapes. They all seemed to have strange warmth to them. Only the dark corner he had stayed away from had seemed to be giving off a cool likeness. However, as dangerous as it looked he still felt an awkward pull toward it. His curiosity began to get the better of him. Why was it so warm where he was and so cool over there?
"Surely it can't hurt to find out? Can it?"
*****
"What's going on here?" Joey half shouted half whispered to her "guest." "Pacey Witter, what on earth are you doing in my kitchen at midnight?"
Pacey looked up at his girlfriend standing in the doorway of the B&B's kitchen. He could see the mixed emotions all over her face. Part of her wanted to probably strangle him at that very moment and the other half seemed to display some sort of pleasure in seeing him there.
"Good morning Josephine." He replied breaking his previous train of thought.
She folded her arms, annoyed, over her chest and gave him a heated stare that could have melted an icicle, no probably a glacier.
"It's twelve o'clock at night Pacey." She said dryly, feeling slightly testy because he'd called her by her full name.
Pacey never broke his stupid grin. "Ah! But you see Miss Potter it is now 12:00 AM. 12:00 P.M. is not for another twelve hours now. So, technically it is morning, and thus the reason for my profound but appropriate greeting."
Joey was stewing beneath the surface, but she managed to hold her composure together. How dare he? The nerve of him insulting at twelve o'clock in the morning, as he had so eloquently put it, and in her kitchen no less! She uncrossed her arms and stomped visibly over to the refrigerator. However, she had no intention of letting him get away with his smug little remark. Not at all.
"Forgive me Mother Earth had not yet informed me of Father Time's resignation and your sudden succession to his throne." She retorted as she grabbed for a container of leftovers and set them on the counter in order to retrieve a plate from the cupboard.
She watched as the grin on Pacey's face slowly diminished leaving only a facade of instant confusion. She smiled cruelly to herself happy to have knocked Mr. Know-it-all off of his self-constructed pedestal.
"That ought to teach you to mess with me at 12:00 in the morning." She whispered just loud enough for him to hear, putting a noticeable emphasis on 'morning'.
It was Pacey's turn to be slightly perturbed. She could have just stopped at the Father Time crack, but no, she had to take it into overtime. Well two could play that game. He watched as Joey scoped the contents of the first container and slipped the lid back on in distaste. She was still smiling triumphantly but not for long. She had fired the first shot and this was war.
"Oh Jo?" He whispered to himself. "Still hungry sweetie?" He asked her aloud.
She turned around leaving her food search momentarily. "What gave you the first clue?" She announced wearily. "And what do you mean by still?"
Here it comes! Thought Pacey. He stood up from the table and prepared himself to escape through the front door before the bullets went flying.
"Oh nothing." He replied nonchalantly from the kitchen doorway. "I just thought that you might still be full . . . after eating my head for breakfast!" He made sure place as much emphasis on 'breakfast' as she had with 'morning'. He made his escape quickly not waiting around to see if his comment had registered itself. He was already sitting on the docks when he heard the hurried angry footsteps coming up behind him.
"Pacey Witter! Why you!" She stood angrily behind him wondering if she should push his smart behind into the creek. "If it hadn't been for my conscious awareness of what Bessi would have done to me-"
He blocked out the rest of her rambling, and broke into a mischievous grin. She was so beautiful when she was angry.
"Let the games begin!"
*****
"Code Blue!" The harried nurse shouted into the hallway. Instantly doctors and nurses came running from all directions in answer to her cry of distress.
They crowded around the patient.
"Pulse!"
"Under 50 doctor!"
"Temp!"
"Above normal sir!"
"Heart rate is dropping doctor!"
"Get the paddles ready! Charge to 150!"
"Paddles ready sir!"
"All right! Everybody step back! Clear!"
"Still dropping doctor!"
"Charge to 200!"
"Charging to 200 doctor! Paddles ready!"
"Clear!"
"Still dropping doctor!"
"We're not giving up! Charge to 250! And somebody call his parents!"
"Charging to 250!"
"Come on stay with us kid!"
"Paddles ready!"
"Clear!"
*****
He shrank back from the darkened area in pain. Some type of electrical field was serving as a barrier around the forbidden zone. To explore the area he would have to bypass the barrier that seemed to be getting stronger in voltage every time he ventured forward. He seemed to remember a certain phrase he often heard in his toddler days. It had something to do with a man by the name of Curiosity and how he killed a cat. Or at least, that's how he supposed it went. As long as he was in this place nothing seemed sensible anymore. But it hurt to think; therefore, it hurt to make sense. Besides, he had a strange feeling that his ability to think had landed him here in the first place. As he slowly backed away from the darkened corner, he began to hear the voices again. He hadn't heard them in the corner they had somehow disappeared. Now, they were back and sounded louder and urgent. He strained to make out a few new words as they called out to him. Come . . .stay . . .us . . . They seemed to be slightly different from the usual words he heard. All of them seemed to come from one direction. He tried to follow them, hoping that he would not only find the new words' source but also where the other words had originated from.
*****
"How is he?" Gail Leery asked frantically. She and Mitch had been sitting at the dining room table trying to force down tasteless food when they'd received a call from the hospital. They'd instantly dropped their forks in their "dinners" and rushed out the door to the hospital.
The doctor held up a calm but firm hand. "It's all right Mrs. Leery we've been able to stablelize him. Although, he did give us quite a scare for a few moments, but he's back to normal. Or at least as normal as one can be in a coma."
Mitch sighed wearily. "No change then?"
The doctor smiled at them sadly. "I'm afraid not Mr. Leery. Unfortunately the paddles are only capable of jump-starting the heart . . .not the soul.
"Can we see him?" Gail choked out slightly shaken by the doctor's previous comment.
Realizing her sudden error the doctor quickly apologized. She motioned them down the hallway and into Dawson's hospital room. "Forgive me Mrs. Leery. I had no intention of being so frank. I sincerely hope and pray that your son makes it through this, and I am doing everything I possibly can help his recovery along."
"It's all right doctor." Gail smiled slightly. "It's just that . . . when I look at my son lying there in that bed I can't help but wonder how someone so full of life could be so lifeless."
"I know that feeling all to well Mrs. Leery. Unfortunately, there comes a point in my profession in which not even my best medical texts can heal. Instead, the healing is left up to the patient."
The Leery's glanced at each other. Neither one was able to speak. Finally, Mitch cleared his throat. "So what you're saying is-," He paused. The doctor looked on sympathetically.
"What I'm saying Mr. Leery, is that my staff and I have done all we can to treat your son's physical wounds but--."
"But what doctor?" Gail said quietly stroking her son's head.
"It's up to your son to decide if-,"
"He's ready to heal on the inside. That's what you were going to say wasn't it." Gail looked pointedly at the doctor.
"Well, yes, something like that. You see, it's not Dawson's body that's in trouble any more. It's his soul. Unless you can reach his soul . . .I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do."
That doctor reached for the pager that had suddenly begun vibrating against her hip. "I'm afraid I have to answer this page, but I'll be back to check on him later. Just, try your best to reach him."
"How do we do that?" Mitch asked finally.
The doctor smiled. "Simple, talk to him." She left the room closing the door behind her softly.
Gail sat down in the chair at her son's bedside. Mitch sat on the other side. Each parent took a hand and surveyed their son sadly.
It was Gail who spoke first. "Dawson? Hi, honey. It's mom and dad. We just want you to know that we are right her with you honey. We know you're probably scared and you feel a little lonely right now, but we want you to know that we are not going anywhere and we are going to see you through this all the way."
"Your mother and I want to apologize for not letting you in on our relationship plans. We realize now that it wasn't fair of us to just spring something like that on you." He paused to brush away a tear. "Dawson I . . .you're mother and I want you to know that we are truly sorry. We're sorry for not putting you first on our life agendas. From now on I am going to always keep my ears and eyes open for you and if you ever need to talk or just want someone to listen my door is always open."
"The same goes for me honey. We love you so much. You are our son Dawson, our pride and joy, the miracle that I held for the first time sixteen years ago. You are the best thing to have ever happened to us."
"And we want you to remain that way." Mitch finished.
"Please come back to us Dawson." She wiped furiously at her tears. "We can't lose you. We can't-," She paused.
Mitch lowered his head trying to avoid the pain he could see in his ex-wife's eyes.
"We can't lose our little boy. Please baby fight for me. Fight for your father. Fight for yourself." That had been the last straw. She was unable to hold back the flood any longer. Tears coursed down her face as she held tight to her son's hands. She didn't care how impossible it seemed or was, if she couldn't help heal his soul than she was going to squeeze every ounce of hers into him. If she had to live soul less, than so be it, but she was not about to let her son die . . . not on her watch.
*****
As he followed the voices he noticed they became stronger and louder. New words were circling his head but this time they combined themselves with the older ones. Instead of just three simple words he could hear phrases. "We love you . . . We miss you . . .Please fight for us . . .Stay with us kid!. . . Fight for yourself . . ."
The last phrase echoed in his mind torturously. His world began to spin out of control. Suddenly, it all came back to him in one flash. His parents were back together he thought. He'd driven to Pacey's house with a mind full of confusion and questions. Afterwards, he'd visited Joey . . . He'd kissed her on her forehead. His parents!. . . Pacey! . . .Joey!. . .the pain! . . ."If I could just turn up the volume." Too much pain! . . .I've lost control . . .traffic or the pole!. . . I chose the pole, this is going to hurt! . . .Blackness!!!!!!!!!
Dawson's eyes fluttered open slowly. He could hear machines, and talking, and crying. He struggled to turn his head. Who was crying and why? Where was he? Oh yeah he'd crashed his car. He must be in the hospital. He struggled to focus on his surroundings while simultaneously checking for all limbs and body members. Through one half focused eye he could see his right leg propped up in an overhanging sling. He wiggled the toes on his left foot until he was satisfied that the other leg was on the bed under the sheets and still attached. Next, came his arms. He was slightly alarmed when he couldn't feel them. By that time his eyes had begun adjusting to the dim room and he was able to make out hazy forms of his parents. One was on each side and each one had . . . He closed his eyes in silent thanks to see his arms still attached. He still couldn't feel them though. He guessed that was due to his parent's attachment to them.
He tried to say something, but it only came out in a frustrated sigh. It was, however, enough to get his parents attention. The two of them suddenly looked up from their thoughts and when they saw him staring at them they yelped with joy neglecting to let go of his arms that had already gone quite numb.
Finally he was able to lick his lips. They felt dry and cracked beneath his slightly moist tongue but it was enough. He managed to smile slightly at his parents who had been squeezing his hands and wiping away tears since the moment since the moment they found out he was awake.
"Mom, Dad?" He whispered weakly.
"Oh, Dawson!" His mother cried. "You came back to us. Thank God!"
His father was grinning from ear to ear with tears of joy in his eyes. "Hey, what happened buddy?" He asked softly.
Forgetting that his parents had now officially squeezed all the remaining life out of his hands he pondered his father's question. By that time the doctor had arrived in the room and he was informed that his friends were being informed of his recovery at that very moment. Dawson scanned the room blearily. He knew they wanted an answer some sort of closure. The truth was he wasn't too sure of what had happened either. Finally, he took a deep breath and answered his father in the best way he knew how.
Epilogue
Joey Potter sat on the pier with her boyfriend Pacey gazing over at the Leery's home. After their "war of the wits" they'd settled down to watch the sunrise. Joey had questioned Pacey on his whereabouts the last evening before she'd found him in her kitchen. He'd told her that he'd gone to visit Dawson in the hospital after a real wake up call from his overbearing but beautiful girlfriend. Of course he'd received a good tongue lashing after that which had started "War of the Wits II" but he had to admit it was he who'd thrown the first punch.
They heard the screen door fly open and hurried footsteps behind them. In seconds Bessi Potter appeared panting and grasping the receiving end of a cordless phone.
"Joey! Pacey! Good news! It's Dawson! He's awake!"
Pacey stood up smiling incredulously. Joey felt tears sting her eyes and for the first time in days, they were tears of joy.
Pacey was determined to get answers. "What happened? Did they say what brought him around?"
Bessi shook her head. "NO, they think it has a lot to do with all of his visitors and of course his family. They did say that what seemed to cause the crash was a painful headache. It distracted him and he took his hands off the wheel-,"
Joey interrupted her. "Placing them back on the wheel with only enough time to choose between crashing into oncoming traffic or a pole. I guess we know which one he chose."
"Wow! What are the odds of that happening?" Pacey asked confused.
"I don't know Pace it does all seem a little far fetched. But nothing these past few days was completely normal either."
"So they're saying some kind of head trauma caused his head trauma which caused ours?"
Joey laughed at his statement. It sounded completely ridiculous but at the same time disturbingly accurate. She thought back over the past few days. They had all experienced a great shock and a lot of pain while Dawson was in a coma. However she couldn't help but consider that the experience had given them all something to think about. She was sure the Leerys had reassessed their relationship with each other and their son. She and Pacey had re-evaluated their relationship as well as she had re-examined her relationship with Dawson. So when it all came down to hit. Pacey was right. She gave him a slightly annoyed smile. She hated that.
**********************************************************
The End
Well folks, it's over. Pat yourselves on the back; you lived through one of my stories. I hope I didn't disappoint you too much. What can I say I tried and besides it was fun!! Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers who kept this story alive and kicking even in times when I thought I should just give it up. Thanks again to all my reviewers. I'll see you after vacation.
Author's Note: This is it! The final chapter! Warning: I wrote this from about 10:00PM-3:00AM so for anything my spellchecker or my eyes missed I am apologizing up front. I tried my hardest to make it all make sense forgive me if you get confused. Just email me with your question and I'll try to remember why I wrote such an awful mess. Oh yeah and just because I watch ER doesn't make me fluent in their hospital jargon so please be kind.
Chapter 8
Suddenly, the scene on the pier came flooding back to her. Could she have just been dreaming and been asleep the whole time? If so when had she gone to bed? No, she decided, she couldn't have been dreaming. It had all seemed way too real. She must have fallen asleep in Pacey's arms, she decided. He must have carried her up to the house. That was the most logical explanation. Then again, she thought, there didn't seem to be much room for a lot of logic these days. She threw back her covers and arose from her bed. Judging by the pool of moonlight coming through her curtains and spilling onto her bedroom floor she could tell it was late.
"What time is it?" she asked the room. She turned her head, and as if on cue, her bedside clock shouted 12:00 in big, bright, green numbers.
"Midnight!" she groaned knowing it would be hours before she would get back to sleep at this rate. "Now, what to do with myself?" She said to the darkened room. A slight rumble in her stomach answered her furiously. "Well, I suppose the kitchen would be a good place to start." She dragged herself to the door and turned the knob, stepping out into the dimly lit hallway. Out in the hallway she could see a light on in the kitchen. One of the guests must have had a little trouble sleeping, she surmised. Her stomach grumbled again, this time the pain was more constant.
"Oh all right," she whispered, hoping her stomach wasn't waking the whole house. "Or maybe they just have a stubborn stomach like mine."
She continued her journey to the kitchen, stopping short in the doorway. "What's going on here?"
*****
Where was he? Everything was painted white everywhere he looked. There was only one dark corner and something told him to stay away from that section. He could only see shapes and forms. None of them were fully developed. All he could hear were faint whispers. But he couldn't find their source. They seemed to be coming from everywhere. He wasn't sure how long he'd been in this place or even when he'd gotten there. It was all so weird; one moment he was in the car and the next . . .he was here. (Wherever here was.) At first he'd only seen white, there had been no shapes, and no whispers just . . . white. The longer he had stayed the more detailed his dimension had become. Soon he could make out faint sounds that developed into inaudible voices. The longer he lingered, the more perceptible the voices had become. Now, he was able to catch on to some of the words...love . . .miss . . .please . . .fight . . . What they meant, he had no idea, but he knew they must be important to have been so clear as opposed to the others he still couldn't make out. Soon after, the shapes and forms had appeared. Hazy at first, it seemed their clarity was trying to break through, but they were all still horribly underdeveloped. Still there was something about this place . . . the voices, the shapes. They all seemed to have strange warmth to them. Only the dark corner he had stayed away from had seemed to be giving off a cool likeness. However, as dangerous as it looked he still felt an awkward pull toward it. His curiosity began to get the better of him. Why was it so warm where he was and so cool over there?
"Surely it can't hurt to find out? Can it?"
*****
"What's going on here?" Joey half shouted half whispered to her "guest." "Pacey Witter, what on earth are you doing in my kitchen at midnight?"
Pacey looked up at his girlfriend standing in the doorway of the B&B's kitchen. He could see the mixed emotions all over her face. Part of her wanted to probably strangle him at that very moment and the other half seemed to display some sort of pleasure in seeing him there.
"Good morning Josephine." He replied breaking his previous train of thought.
She folded her arms, annoyed, over her chest and gave him a heated stare that could have melted an icicle, no probably a glacier.
"It's twelve o'clock at night Pacey." She said dryly, feeling slightly testy because he'd called her by her full name.
Pacey never broke his stupid grin. "Ah! But you see Miss Potter it is now 12:00 AM. 12:00 P.M. is not for another twelve hours now. So, technically it is morning, and thus the reason for my profound but appropriate greeting."
Joey was stewing beneath the surface, but she managed to hold her composure together. How dare he? The nerve of him insulting at twelve o'clock in the morning, as he had so eloquently put it, and in her kitchen no less! She uncrossed her arms and stomped visibly over to the refrigerator. However, she had no intention of letting him get away with his smug little remark. Not at all.
"Forgive me Mother Earth had not yet informed me of Father Time's resignation and your sudden succession to his throne." She retorted as she grabbed for a container of leftovers and set them on the counter in order to retrieve a plate from the cupboard.
She watched as the grin on Pacey's face slowly diminished leaving only a facade of instant confusion. She smiled cruelly to herself happy to have knocked Mr. Know-it-all off of his self-constructed pedestal.
"That ought to teach you to mess with me at 12:00 in the morning." She whispered just loud enough for him to hear, putting a noticeable emphasis on 'morning'.
It was Pacey's turn to be slightly perturbed. She could have just stopped at the Father Time crack, but no, she had to take it into overtime. Well two could play that game. He watched as Joey scoped the contents of the first container and slipped the lid back on in distaste. She was still smiling triumphantly but not for long. She had fired the first shot and this was war.
"Oh Jo?" He whispered to himself. "Still hungry sweetie?" He asked her aloud.
She turned around leaving her food search momentarily. "What gave you the first clue?" She announced wearily. "And what do you mean by still?"
Here it comes! Thought Pacey. He stood up from the table and prepared himself to escape through the front door before the bullets went flying.
"Oh nothing." He replied nonchalantly from the kitchen doorway. "I just thought that you might still be full . . . after eating my head for breakfast!" He made sure place as much emphasis on 'breakfast' as she had with 'morning'. He made his escape quickly not waiting around to see if his comment had registered itself. He was already sitting on the docks when he heard the hurried angry footsteps coming up behind him.
"Pacey Witter! Why you!" She stood angrily behind him wondering if she should push his smart behind into the creek. "If it hadn't been for my conscious awareness of what Bessi would have done to me-"
He blocked out the rest of her rambling, and broke into a mischievous grin. She was so beautiful when she was angry.
"Let the games begin!"
*****
"Code Blue!" The harried nurse shouted into the hallway. Instantly doctors and nurses came running from all directions in answer to her cry of distress.
They crowded around the patient.
"Pulse!"
"Under 50 doctor!"
"Temp!"
"Above normal sir!"
"Heart rate is dropping doctor!"
"Get the paddles ready! Charge to 150!"
"Paddles ready sir!"
"All right! Everybody step back! Clear!"
"Still dropping doctor!"
"Charge to 200!"
"Charging to 200 doctor! Paddles ready!"
"Clear!"
"Still dropping doctor!"
"We're not giving up! Charge to 250! And somebody call his parents!"
"Charging to 250!"
"Come on stay with us kid!"
"Paddles ready!"
"Clear!"
*****
He shrank back from the darkened area in pain. Some type of electrical field was serving as a barrier around the forbidden zone. To explore the area he would have to bypass the barrier that seemed to be getting stronger in voltage every time he ventured forward. He seemed to remember a certain phrase he often heard in his toddler days. It had something to do with a man by the name of Curiosity and how he killed a cat. Or at least, that's how he supposed it went. As long as he was in this place nothing seemed sensible anymore. But it hurt to think; therefore, it hurt to make sense. Besides, he had a strange feeling that his ability to think had landed him here in the first place. As he slowly backed away from the darkened corner, he began to hear the voices again. He hadn't heard them in the corner they had somehow disappeared. Now, they were back and sounded louder and urgent. He strained to make out a few new words as they called out to him. Come . . .stay . . .us . . . They seemed to be slightly different from the usual words he heard. All of them seemed to come from one direction. He tried to follow them, hoping that he would not only find the new words' source but also where the other words had originated from.
*****
"How is he?" Gail Leery asked frantically. She and Mitch had been sitting at the dining room table trying to force down tasteless food when they'd received a call from the hospital. They'd instantly dropped their forks in their "dinners" and rushed out the door to the hospital.
The doctor held up a calm but firm hand. "It's all right Mrs. Leery we've been able to stablelize him. Although, he did give us quite a scare for a few moments, but he's back to normal. Or at least as normal as one can be in a coma."
Mitch sighed wearily. "No change then?"
The doctor smiled at them sadly. "I'm afraid not Mr. Leery. Unfortunately the paddles are only capable of jump-starting the heart . . .not the soul.
"Can we see him?" Gail choked out slightly shaken by the doctor's previous comment.
Realizing her sudden error the doctor quickly apologized. She motioned them down the hallway and into Dawson's hospital room. "Forgive me Mrs. Leery. I had no intention of being so frank. I sincerely hope and pray that your son makes it through this, and I am doing everything I possibly can help his recovery along."
"It's all right doctor." Gail smiled slightly. "It's just that . . . when I look at my son lying there in that bed I can't help but wonder how someone so full of life could be so lifeless."
"I know that feeling all to well Mrs. Leery. Unfortunately, there comes a point in my profession in which not even my best medical texts can heal. Instead, the healing is left up to the patient."
The Leery's glanced at each other. Neither one was able to speak. Finally, Mitch cleared his throat. "So what you're saying is-," He paused. The doctor looked on sympathetically.
"What I'm saying Mr. Leery, is that my staff and I have done all we can to treat your son's physical wounds but--."
"But what doctor?" Gail said quietly stroking her son's head.
"It's up to your son to decide if-,"
"He's ready to heal on the inside. That's what you were going to say wasn't it." Gail looked pointedly at the doctor.
"Well, yes, something like that. You see, it's not Dawson's body that's in trouble any more. It's his soul. Unless you can reach his soul . . .I'm afraid there's nothing more I can do."
That doctor reached for the pager that had suddenly begun vibrating against her hip. "I'm afraid I have to answer this page, but I'll be back to check on him later. Just, try your best to reach him."
"How do we do that?" Mitch asked finally.
The doctor smiled. "Simple, talk to him." She left the room closing the door behind her softly.
Gail sat down in the chair at her son's bedside. Mitch sat on the other side. Each parent took a hand and surveyed their son sadly.
It was Gail who spoke first. "Dawson? Hi, honey. It's mom and dad. We just want you to know that we are right her with you honey. We know you're probably scared and you feel a little lonely right now, but we want you to know that we are not going anywhere and we are going to see you through this all the way."
"Your mother and I want to apologize for not letting you in on our relationship plans. We realize now that it wasn't fair of us to just spring something like that on you." He paused to brush away a tear. "Dawson I . . .you're mother and I want you to know that we are truly sorry. We're sorry for not putting you first on our life agendas. From now on I am going to always keep my ears and eyes open for you and if you ever need to talk or just want someone to listen my door is always open."
"The same goes for me honey. We love you so much. You are our son Dawson, our pride and joy, the miracle that I held for the first time sixteen years ago. You are the best thing to have ever happened to us."
"And we want you to remain that way." Mitch finished.
"Please come back to us Dawson." She wiped furiously at her tears. "We can't lose you. We can't-," She paused.
Mitch lowered his head trying to avoid the pain he could see in his ex-wife's eyes.
"We can't lose our little boy. Please baby fight for me. Fight for your father. Fight for yourself." That had been the last straw. She was unable to hold back the flood any longer. Tears coursed down her face as she held tight to her son's hands. She didn't care how impossible it seemed or was, if she couldn't help heal his soul than she was going to squeeze every ounce of hers into him. If she had to live soul less, than so be it, but she was not about to let her son die . . . not on her watch.
*****
As he followed the voices he noticed they became stronger and louder. New words were circling his head but this time they combined themselves with the older ones. Instead of just three simple words he could hear phrases. "We love you . . . We miss you . . .Please fight for us . . .Stay with us kid!. . . Fight for yourself . . ."
The last phrase echoed in his mind torturously. His world began to spin out of control. Suddenly, it all came back to him in one flash. His parents were back together he thought. He'd driven to Pacey's house with a mind full of confusion and questions. Afterwards, he'd visited Joey . . . He'd kissed her on her forehead. His parents!. . . Pacey! . . .Joey!. . .the pain! . . ."If I could just turn up the volume." Too much pain! . . .I've lost control . . .traffic or the pole!. . . I chose the pole, this is going to hurt! . . .Blackness!!!!!!!!!
Dawson's eyes fluttered open slowly. He could hear machines, and talking, and crying. He struggled to turn his head. Who was crying and why? Where was he? Oh yeah he'd crashed his car. He must be in the hospital. He struggled to focus on his surroundings while simultaneously checking for all limbs and body members. Through one half focused eye he could see his right leg propped up in an overhanging sling. He wiggled the toes on his left foot until he was satisfied that the other leg was on the bed under the sheets and still attached. Next, came his arms. He was slightly alarmed when he couldn't feel them. By that time his eyes had begun adjusting to the dim room and he was able to make out hazy forms of his parents. One was on each side and each one had . . . He closed his eyes in silent thanks to see his arms still attached. He still couldn't feel them though. He guessed that was due to his parent's attachment to them.
He tried to say something, but it only came out in a frustrated sigh. It was, however, enough to get his parents attention. The two of them suddenly looked up from their thoughts and when they saw him staring at them they yelped with joy neglecting to let go of his arms that had already gone quite numb.
Finally he was able to lick his lips. They felt dry and cracked beneath his slightly moist tongue but it was enough. He managed to smile slightly at his parents who had been squeezing his hands and wiping away tears since the moment since the moment they found out he was awake.
"Mom, Dad?" He whispered weakly.
"Oh, Dawson!" His mother cried. "You came back to us. Thank God!"
His father was grinning from ear to ear with tears of joy in his eyes. "Hey, what happened buddy?" He asked softly.
Forgetting that his parents had now officially squeezed all the remaining life out of his hands he pondered his father's question. By that time the doctor had arrived in the room and he was informed that his friends were being informed of his recovery at that very moment. Dawson scanned the room blearily. He knew they wanted an answer some sort of closure. The truth was he wasn't too sure of what had happened either. Finally, he took a deep breath and answered his father in the best way he knew how.
Epilogue
Joey Potter sat on the pier with her boyfriend Pacey gazing over at the Leery's home. After their "war of the wits" they'd settled down to watch the sunrise. Joey had questioned Pacey on his whereabouts the last evening before she'd found him in her kitchen. He'd told her that he'd gone to visit Dawson in the hospital after a real wake up call from his overbearing but beautiful girlfriend. Of course he'd received a good tongue lashing after that which had started "War of the Wits II" but he had to admit it was he who'd thrown the first punch.
They heard the screen door fly open and hurried footsteps behind them. In seconds Bessi Potter appeared panting and grasping the receiving end of a cordless phone.
"Joey! Pacey! Good news! It's Dawson! He's awake!"
Pacey stood up smiling incredulously. Joey felt tears sting her eyes and for the first time in days, they were tears of joy.
Pacey was determined to get answers. "What happened? Did they say what brought him around?"
Bessi shook her head. "NO, they think it has a lot to do with all of his visitors and of course his family. They did say that what seemed to cause the crash was a painful headache. It distracted him and he took his hands off the wheel-,"
Joey interrupted her. "Placing them back on the wheel with only enough time to choose between crashing into oncoming traffic or a pole. I guess we know which one he chose."
"Wow! What are the odds of that happening?" Pacey asked confused.
"I don't know Pace it does all seem a little far fetched. But nothing these past few days was completely normal either."
"So they're saying some kind of head trauma caused his head trauma which caused ours?"
Joey laughed at his statement. It sounded completely ridiculous but at the same time disturbingly accurate. She thought back over the past few days. They had all experienced a great shock and a lot of pain while Dawson was in a coma. However she couldn't help but consider that the experience had given them all something to think about. She was sure the Leerys had reassessed their relationship with each other and their son. She and Pacey had re-evaluated their relationship as well as she had re-examined her relationship with Dawson. So when it all came down to hit. Pacey was right. She gave him a slightly annoyed smile. She hated that.
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The End
Well folks, it's over. Pat yourselves on the back; you lived through one of my stories. I hope I didn't disappoint you too much. What can I say I tried and besides it was fun!! Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers who kept this story alive and kicking even in times when I thought I should just give it up. Thanks again to all my reviewers. I'll see you after vacation.