Chapter 3

Jack looked at the letter in his hand in disbelief. Although he had read it through several times, the words still didn't have any meaning to him. Figuring that he was just too tired to think, he set the letter on the bed and went into the bathroom. Stripping quickly, he got into the shower, hoping that it would revitalize him. He started methodically scrubbing, his mind wandering, until the letter popped into his head. Finally the words made sense, and their meaning caused Jack to start shaking until he almost fell on the shower stall floor.

"Even though we're best friends, you don't know me at all.

You might see that I loved you.

I'm tired of trying, Jack.

I hurt too much..."

Jack sank to the floor as he started sobbing. How could he not have noticed that his best friend was in so much pain? As he sat there, he thought about how Eric had seemed so withdrawn the whole summer, and how Jack hadn't done anything to help. Hadn't asked him what was wrong, hadn't even told him when he started going back out with Rachel. Jack had done nothing but ignore one of the closest people to him in the whole world, and the reality was that his ignorance might cost him the life of that person.

After the crying fit left him, he rinsed off and got out of the shower. Moving quickly, he got dressed and put his things away in the bedroom. Seeing the letter next to the bed, he reached down, scooped it up and put it in his wallet. He grabbed a set of keys and headed back to the hospital.

His friends were still waiting in the ICU. All of them were in various stages of sleep, a testimony to how their night was. Jack sat down next to them and tried to go to sleep himself, but every time he closed his eyes, the contents of the letter came crashing back into his head with a vengeance. Giving up on sleep for the moment, he selected a year old 'National Enquirer' and thumbed through it, not really paying attention.

Shawn stirred and looked over at his brother. "Hey," he greeted Jack tiredly.

"Hey," Jack replied softly. "Any news?"

"Yeah. They took him off of the ventilator, so he's breathing on his own. But he still hasn't woken up. As this point, the doctors don't know if it's from the stress of the surgery or if it's something else. They're running some tests to find out."

Topanga, who had been resting her head on Cory's shoulder, straightened up and yawned. "Hi Jack, Shawn."

"Hello," they replied together.

Topanga glanced over at her sleeping husband. "He was up all night, trying to reach his parents. I think they said something to us about being out of town."

"How could this happen?" Shawn wondered aloud. "I mean, this is so unbelievable."

"I know what you mean. Jack, the doctors wanted to talk to you. They were trying to find out..." Topanga stopped and wiped tears out of her eyes. "They want to know if this wasn't an accident. But surely Eric would never do anything like that..."

Jack was silent. He assumed that everyone would know that Eric's injury was self-inflicted. But he found himself saying, "No, he wouldn't. I'll talk to them, okay?"

Since this was Jack's fault, he figured, he would carry the burden of knowing exactly what happened... alone.

Time passed. Mr and Mrs Matthews were finally contacted. They flew Eric back to County General in Philadelphia, to have him closer to home, to have him closer to where he belonged. As weeks turned into months, and Eric still showed no sign of coming out of the coma, he was moved to a facility for long-term care. The doctors still didn't know why he was under, and held out little to no hope of him emerging from the coma.

Slowly, everyone started returning to normal life again. Angela flew to Europe to be with her father. Cory, Topanga, and Shawn moved to New York. None of them mentioned the fact that Eric was supposed to be with them, but they all thought about it.

Rachel went ahead and joined the Peace Corps. Jack had pleaded with her not to go, but she had stated bluntly, "You're paying more attention to someone who might never talk, walk, do anything again... and yes, I know that he's your best friend, but we're the ones who are supposed to be in a relationship, remember? I can't play second fiddle, Jack. I just can't." And so she had walked away, leaving Jack by himself.

And that's what he was. He was in a small one-bedroom apartment in Philadelphia, alone. He was working at a local news station as a glorified gofer. Noting earth shattering, but it paid the bills. Every day after work, he would go to the nursing home where Eric was and sit with him. Some times he would tell Eric about things that happened in the course of his day. Some times he told stories about things they had done while they were in college. Some times Jack was so tired that he just would come in the room and sleep.

One day, after many months of just talking, Jack tried something different. He had seen a special on television about coma patients being able to sense touch. He came into the room and gave Eric a rubber duckie. "Remember how you loved your ducks? I brought you this to keep you company." He touched the duck to Eric's face. "When I come back, I'll bring something else."

He lightly touched Eric's hand, noting how it felt like he was about to get up any minute.

As he sat down, prepared to talk to Eric as usual, a nurse came into the room.

"What just happened in here?" she demanded.

"Nothing! I just came in here, and I gave him a duck..." Jack babbled.

"His vital signs just shot up. Whatever you just did, do it again. He could come out of the coma!" Heartened, Jack went back to Eric's bedside and touched Eric's hand again.

"Hey, buddy, it's time to come back and join the land of the living." A low moan emitted from the bed. The nurse ran out of the room, calling for the doctor.

After that, things happened quickly. Mr and Mrs Matthews were called and arrived just in time to see Eric open his eyes. As he began to show signs of recognizing people and things around him, Cory and Topanga, along with Shawn, got back. Everyone was rejoicing. Rachel even sent a letter saying how much she missed everyone.

There were some side affects to Eric's long-term ordeal. He had some right-side weakness, due to the surgery. And he didn't remember the month that the gang had spent in New Jersey. The last thing he remembered was the graduation from college.

"Don't worry about it. The doctor said that it could come back," Jack suggested helpfully.

"I just hate that there's a period of my life that I'll never get back," Eric said. At the moment, they were in Jack's apartment, where Eric was staying temporarily. "But that's the last time that we were all together, and you won't even tell me about it!"

"The doctor said that it could be detrimental. He thinks that you're blocking the memory on purpose."

"I know. I was there, remember?" Eric sighed and started walking around the small living room. Jack watched him carefully, feeling his heart twist with every little hitch in Eric's step.

"Well, why don't we do something? Maybe run up to the house we stayed at? Maybe looking at the house will help jog your memory."

"Anything's better than just sitting around," Eric mused. He started for the door, with Jack close behind him.

The car ride was different than the ones they usually took. Before the accident, Eric would fiddle with the radio, sing along badly, ask Jack random questions, and generally make the time in the car zoom by. Today he just stared out of the window. The few attempts that Jack made to hold a conversation were rebuffed.

After around three hours, Jack pulled up in front of the house. There were cars in front of it; Jack assumed that the owners were back from wherever they'd been.

"Um, this is it. The downstairs was really decrepit, but our bedrooms were nice. We didn't stay here a lot, though, we went to New York, which is where we spent most of our time, just hanging out."

Eric unconsciously rubbed his right arm. "Is this where I broke my arm?"

"No, we were at Central Park, rollerblading, and Rachel bumped into you."

"Why don't I remember any of that?" Eric asked softly. Jack was about to answer when he realized that Eric was just voicing his thoughts.

"Well, I guess I'm ready to go. Sorry this didn't help." Eric looked mildly disappointed.

"That's okay. It was a long shot, anyway. You hungry? There's this place that serves the best hot dogs. You really liked them when we were here."

"Okay." Eric resumed his gazing out the window.

After they got their food, Jack hit the road again. This time, he turned on the radio. A familiar song came blasting out. "Open your heart to me, baby. I hold the lock, you hold the key."

"I like this song," Jack commented. "But did you see the video? Weirdness."

"Was that the one where she was like in a peep show?" Eric asked, turning to face Jack.

"Yeah. And then she goes off dancing with the boy at the end."

"But aren't all of her videos... different? I mean, you don't turn on one of her videos expecting the same old, same old."

"Remember 'Justify My Love'?" Jack laughed at the memory. "Someone brought that video to school and we all watched it. Our teacher was so mad when she realized what it was!"

"Remember the video where the person robs someone, gets drunk, and does all this stuff? And then at the end, you find out that it's a girl?"

"Yeah. That was a cool video, though."

"So, what's your favourite video?"

"Old ones. 'Video Killed the Radio Star', 'Money for Nothing', 'Pop Music', all those ones that used to be on when I came home from school."

"Aren't those a little older than you?"

"Yeah, they are. But still good ones."

Jack was suddenly struck by the thought that this was the longest conversation that he and Eric had had since he had woken up. Not wanting to end it, he asked Eric, "So, what's your favourite?"

"All the gangsta rap in the early 90's. Their videos were so bad, they were good. And the metal bands. Especially the power ballads."

"Power ballads! I had forgotten about those. I used to love the real sad ones."

"What about all of the pop singers? Tiffany and Debbie Gibson and all of those."

"Liked them too, but I think they weren't geared to me."

"What was your first clue? Electric Youth?"

"Evil, evil." Eric laughed aloud. "Seriously, I used to have a crush on Tiffany. All that red hair."

"Remind me to grab some dye when we get home," Jack said before he could stop himself. Hearing himself say that, he mentally cursed. 'Way to go, Hunter. Make him close back up.'

Instead of being upset, Eric shot him a strange look and continued, "But I thought Debbie was too goody-goody."

"Based on what? She didn't seem to have any discernable personality as far as I could see."

Eric shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe it was the hair."

Jack started laughing. "You are a nut!"

They pulled up in front of Jack's apartment complex. "You know what? I missed this," Eric mused.

Jack was struck by a sense of deja vu. "Yeah, us just fooling around."

Eric flashed him a smile. "Well, I feel a lot better. We should go on pointless road trips more often."

"Definitely. Look, I have to go pick something from the store. Will you be all right by yourself?"

"Sure thing. Could you get me some batteries?"

"Okay. See you in a few." Jack watched as Eric slowly walked into the apartment building. Once he was inside, Jack peeled off and thought hard as he drove.

A fact he was trying to avoid was now staring him in the face. When Eric was in the coma, Jack had realized how much he cared for him. When Eric had woken up with no memory of the letter that he left Jack, he realized exactly what he was feeling for Eric.

"I love him," he whispered, even though there was no one in the car to hear him. "I love him and can't tell him." He thought about how Eric had said in the letter that love was like a pain inside. It was ironic that Jack was now experiencing the exact same pain.

He went to the store and got the batteries for Eric, and then drove back to the apartment. When he entered the room, he noted the silence. He found Eric lying down in the bedroom. He appeared to be having a nightmare.

"No... no, no, no," he moaned softly.

Jack knelt on the bed and started shaking Eric. "Wake up, wake up!"

"It hurts..." Eric sat up, panting and sweating. "Jack, what are you doing here?"

"You were dreaming, and I was trying to wake you up," he explained. "Do you remember what you were dreaming about?"

"Um, no," Eric started. "Wait. I was dreaming about our vacation. I remembered seeing the inside of the house. And breaking my arm. And... seeing you. And Rachel."

"I wanted to tell you how sorry I was about that," Jack said. "You're my best friend..."

"Jack," Eric interrupted. "I... I know about the letter."

"You do?" Jack was at a loss for words.

"Yeah. I didn't really mean to go through with it," Eric said rapidly. "I just felt so low. Once I realized what I'd done, I went back to the hospital that I had got my arm set and told them that I didn't feel well. And... that's all I remember."

"I... I still have it. The letter." Jack pulled out his wallet and showed him the neatly folded paper. "I was really scared, Eric. I thought I was going to lose you." Sudden tears sprang into his eyes. "You are my best friend. It took almost losing you to show me how much you mean to me." He tore his eyes off of the bedspread that he had been staring at and looked into Eric's eyes. "When you were under all those months, all I could think about was how much I wanted you to wake up so that I could tell you what you mean to me."

"What are you saying?" Eric whispered.

"Eric... I love you. Have for a long time now."

Eric shook his head in denial. "No, you can't. You love Rachel."

"Rachel and I broke up a long time ago. Even she noticed that she was second in my heart."

"Am I dreaming?" Eric sounded like a little boy.

"No, you're not." Jack smiled as he touched Eric's hand softly. "Will you believe me?"

"I'm trying..."

And they both knew that they would try together.

END

(Thanks again Craig! You're the best!)