Author's notes: The delay in updating is due to a mixture of Uni exams and other minor life stresses. This chapter was a complete pain to write, it just wouldn't come out, but it all finally fell into place. I'd like to take this oppurtunity to say I never meant for this story to last this long, it's like some incredible juggernaut that's grown completely out of my control. I am so grateful for the reaction it has recieved, because I never thought it would be well-recieved at all. This chapter is a continuation of the last, but I will have to move on to other characters soon (and any suggestions are very much appreciated)
Chapter 22: "Leap Of Faith"
Jing-Mei Chen, M.D
I tried writing it down, tried to express in words the epiphany I'd had whilst falling into seeming oblivion, but the sentences didn't come out meaning what I had intended them to. As I crumpled the umpteenth sheet of paper and catapulted it across the room, I made a decision. If I was going to say all this, I was going to say it face to face. He deserved that at least. I wasn't a coward, not anymore, how could I be?
The walk back was the longest of my life. I passed by the street on which County used to stand, just for the sake of it, and got on the EL to Northwestern. I avoided looking at the rubble, aware of just how many memories it would awaken that I didn't need clouding my judgement.
It was midday on a busy June afternoon in a city that, though still reeling, had virtually returned to normal amidst the agony of the inquest into Valentines Day. The streets buzzed with workers out for painfully short lunch breaks, hurrying. I wasn't hurrying anywhere. I was doing this my way.
Before I knew where I was I was standing outside the door that led into his temporary prison. I squared my shoulders, and prepared to walk into a brick wall. I couldn't see a way round it.
I opened the room door, and instantly turned away. I had never seen his scars before, not the worst of them, those usually hidden from sight. I looked down on my own hands and knew how pathetic they were, especially the newly gashed and bandaged right hand.
There wasn't a sound in the room, and I wasn't sure if he'd noticed me standing there. I could have turned round and left, walked away again. My breath caught in my throat and disturbed the silence irrevocably.
"Hi,"
I half-whispered nervously. The nurse, changing dressings on the most recent graft, turned to leave on a signal from him. I couldn't hear what he'd said. I caught her shoulder as she left.
"Is there anything I can…? I mean, can I…?"
I wasn't sure how to word what I wanted to ask, but she seemed to understand anyway. She nodded wordlessly and left us, alone again in the heavy silence.
"I know my hands aren't much good anymore, but I could probably manage…"
I gestured to the dressings, not sure I was strong enough, but for the first time willing to try.
"Do you mind?"
Still, he said nothing. I clenched and released my fists a couple of times to restore what movement I had left in my fingers, waiting for his assent. I wouldn't do this unless he told me it was ok. It would be as much of a leap of faith for him as it was a test for my strength. I couldn't meet his gaze, so kept my eyes just slightly off centre. In those few seconds of silence, for it couldn't be much more than that, he was never known for his patience, I wound myself so tightly I knew I'd eventually snap.
"If you want…"
He spoke eventually.
I worked silently, too aware of my own clumsiness to try and fall over my words at the same time. My fingers wouldn't grip anything the way I commanded them. I struggled on, but I knew the job I was doing would be efficiently redone the minute I left. I couldn't even feel the material of the dressing, though I knew from memory its texture. I had effectively lost my sense of touch, and I hadn't been scared about what that meant to my life until now. Suddenly, I missed all those things I'd taken for granted before because I knew they wouldn't be the same again because a memory can never replace a sensation.
"I'm sorry,"
I said, sitting back down, stupidly trying not to cry, not to be pathetic. I'd come here strong, and this was just frustration. Childish frustration. The doctors had said I'd never practice medicine again, and I wouldn't. But I'd had the guts to try, which looking at my pathetic form in the mirror last night, I wouldn't have thought possible.
"I had something to prove I guess."
"I think you proved it,"
Somehow, those words silenced the voice inside me, the one telling me to apologise. I felt his hand over mine, unable to hide the sharp intake of breath it caused. I hadn't drawn my hand back as I should have. Through my fingers, I could feel his breathing. I remembered when I'd prayed so hard for him to breathe, alone in that dark fire-ravaged ruin, close to my own death, knowing that if he died I'd never be able to live with myself. I remembered the promises I made that day and in the three weeks that followed, the deals I made with God to allow him to pull through. And against all odds, here he was, still real, still breathing.
"I…I had this all planned,"
I kept my eyes downcast, but still tripped over my words. His free hand went to my face, and slowly tilted my head up. When I met his gaze, what I had come to say didn't matter, because I sensed that somehow he already knew. And with three simple words, he proceeded to seal our fate.
"You came back,"
Chapter 22: "Leap Of Faith"
Jing-Mei Chen, M.D
I tried writing it down, tried to express in words the epiphany I'd had whilst falling into seeming oblivion, but the sentences didn't come out meaning what I had intended them to. As I crumpled the umpteenth sheet of paper and catapulted it across the room, I made a decision. If I was going to say all this, I was going to say it face to face. He deserved that at least. I wasn't a coward, not anymore, how could I be?
The walk back was the longest of my life. I passed by the street on which County used to stand, just for the sake of it, and got on the EL to Northwestern. I avoided looking at the rubble, aware of just how many memories it would awaken that I didn't need clouding my judgement.
It was midday on a busy June afternoon in a city that, though still reeling, had virtually returned to normal amidst the agony of the inquest into Valentines Day. The streets buzzed with workers out for painfully short lunch breaks, hurrying. I wasn't hurrying anywhere. I was doing this my way.
Before I knew where I was I was standing outside the door that led into his temporary prison. I squared my shoulders, and prepared to walk into a brick wall. I couldn't see a way round it.
I opened the room door, and instantly turned away. I had never seen his scars before, not the worst of them, those usually hidden from sight. I looked down on my own hands and knew how pathetic they were, especially the newly gashed and bandaged right hand.
There wasn't a sound in the room, and I wasn't sure if he'd noticed me standing there. I could have turned round and left, walked away again. My breath caught in my throat and disturbed the silence irrevocably.
"Hi,"
I half-whispered nervously. The nurse, changing dressings on the most recent graft, turned to leave on a signal from him. I couldn't hear what he'd said. I caught her shoulder as she left.
"Is there anything I can…? I mean, can I…?"
I wasn't sure how to word what I wanted to ask, but she seemed to understand anyway. She nodded wordlessly and left us, alone again in the heavy silence.
"I know my hands aren't much good anymore, but I could probably manage…"
I gestured to the dressings, not sure I was strong enough, but for the first time willing to try.
"Do you mind?"
Still, he said nothing. I clenched and released my fists a couple of times to restore what movement I had left in my fingers, waiting for his assent. I wouldn't do this unless he told me it was ok. It would be as much of a leap of faith for him as it was a test for my strength. I couldn't meet his gaze, so kept my eyes just slightly off centre. In those few seconds of silence, for it couldn't be much more than that, he was never known for his patience, I wound myself so tightly I knew I'd eventually snap.
"If you want…"
He spoke eventually.
I worked silently, too aware of my own clumsiness to try and fall over my words at the same time. My fingers wouldn't grip anything the way I commanded them. I struggled on, but I knew the job I was doing would be efficiently redone the minute I left. I couldn't even feel the material of the dressing, though I knew from memory its texture. I had effectively lost my sense of touch, and I hadn't been scared about what that meant to my life until now. Suddenly, I missed all those things I'd taken for granted before because I knew they wouldn't be the same again because a memory can never replace a sensation.
"I'm sorry,"
I said, sitting back down, stupidly trying not to cry, not to be pathetic. I'd come here strong, and this was just frustration. Childish frustration. The doctors had said I'd never practice medicine again, and I wouldn't. But I'd had the guts to try, which looking at my pathetic form in the mirror last night, I wouldn't have thought possible.
"I had something to prove I guess."
"I think you proved it,"
Somehow, those words silenced the voice inside me, the one telling me to apologise. I felt his hand over mine, unable to hide the sharp intake of breath it caused. I hadn't drawn my hand back as I should have. Through my fingers, I could feel his breathing. I remembered when I'd prayed so hard for him to breathe, alone in that dark fire-ravaged ruin, close to my own death, knowing that if he died I'd never be able to live with myself. I remembered the promises I made that day and in the three weeks that followed, the deals I made with God to allow him to pull through. And against all odds, here he was, still real, still breathing.
"I…I had this all planned,"
I kept my eyes downcast, but still tripped over my words. His free hand went to my face, and slowly tilted my head up. When I met his gaze, what I had come to say didn't matter, because I sensed that somehow he already knew. And with three simple words, he proceeded to seal our fate.
"You came back,"