Mending Pieces
A Roswell Alternate Universe Story
By Andrea Sinisterra
Romance/Drama
Standard Disclaimers Apply
* * *
And I don't want the world to see me
Cuz I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
"Iris"
- Goo Goo Dolls
* * *
Part 9
He had gone into a cold state of shock, the second he found out. His pager had slid to the floor, cracking against the tile in an unmistakable pulp. His cell phone still pressed to his numb ears, the voice of the strange woman, a nurse, still resounding into the empty line. Max's breath was still labored from the kiss that had been abruptly interrupted, the trembling in his limbs quieting by the comforting touch of the woman by his side.
Margaret, that was the strange woman's voice, had said that they'd been in a car crash by the ends of a loose driver who had too much to drink for one night... and Aaron was unconscious with a fracture. Isabel was deeply wounded; he had explained later to Liz, as they walked to the door, she would have to go into surgery right away. Max felt his body go into the motions, as though he were a stranger held captive in the cell of an even stranger body.
He was numb when he climbed into his car, even number when he turned the ignition. He kissed her briefly, his hand running trough her hair in one final caress, before he closed the door, and geared his car to the doom called Las Cruces General.
* * *
When he arrived at the hospital, he didn't even waste his time asking where his sister and his son were sent, he simply made his way to the ER. As he had suspected, Aaron was in there, his little son had his leg covered in gauze, bruises and cuts over his arms and face. He took the patient's chart from the slot at the end of the bed, flipping through the pages, quickly scanning. The first set of X-rays was taken already, and as he left his room, he hoped to God, they wouldn't show anything disturbing.
"'Dr. Maxwell Evans, to the nurse's station. Dr. Maxwell Evans, to the nurse's station'."
He found himself barreled with questions and instructions, orders and comments from every possible person, from every possible direction. He dumbly took the papers pertaining Isabel Evans' condition, the plastic chart wobbled slightly in his hands. OR. "I can't take over the surgery. Have Dr. Whitman take over and resident Williams assist him. Have you made calls to any other relatives? Okay, don't, I'll do them myself. Call Dr. Jacobs, and tell him to have the X-rays results done as soon as possible." He stopped, "he'll probably just need a cast... I don't want anyone besides Whitman in charge of the surgery. You can tell McNamara to pack his scalpel, cause he isn't getting anywhere near my sister with that."
He smiled briefly at the amusement in the nurses' faces. He took the folder with him, staring blankly at the pages of clinical records of Isabel Evans. Such a healthy woman. They must be making the changes right now. Whitman was a good doctor, someone to whom he could trust the life of his sister with.
Some sort of metal device, he suspected it belonged to the truck, had incrusted itself into her lower back, delivering a mortal blow to her spleen. They probably would need to remove it... he winced at the possible complications from the surgery; embolisms, hernias, bowel obstructions...
"Dr. Evans," Nurse Margaret Mitchell called for a second time, "Dr. Evans, we're going to prepare Aaron for surgery, would you like to come with us?"
Max nodded absently, following the nurse to the room where Aaron lay unconscious. A man clad in white soon followed, adjusting silver glasses firmly to his nose, his brown eyes apologetic when he saw Max.
"Evans." Dr. Fabrega shook hands with Max, then clipping the x-rays results into the light board, the fracture painfully clear, "I guess you've seen your son's file... there has been a displacement in his right tibia, I'm going to manually realign the bone, but we have to take him to surgery to internally fixate the bone fragments." And as he spoke, with plastic gloved hands, the nurse began removing the gauze and the plastic white pallet from Aaron's right leg.
"I see." Was all Max could say for a long minute, then, "is he under some anesthetic?"
Dr. Fabrega smiled, "of course. He woke the moment he came into the hospital... he was a little shaken up and very confused, so I had nurse Mitchell sedate him... just so he could rest."
There was a whimper from the unconscious boy on the bed when Dr. Fabrega twisted his leg back into the right position. "Okay, I think we're ready. Nurse Mitchell will shave his leg a little, and then we'll take him to the OR."
"Thank you." They shook hands again.
* * *
Eventually, Max Evans gathered enough courage to call his family and tell them what was happening. He had told his father everything, grateful that it wasn't his mother who answered the phone. He told the stony Phillip not to bother rushing to the hospital right away, it was useless, since Isabel and Aaron both were going to be deeply unconscious from the load of Demerol they were supplied. He didn't elaborate over their conditions, not wanting to arouse any fear or anxiety in his father.
Isabel's condition had stabled considerably, it had taken close to six hours of surgery and two more in recovery, where she regained consciousness, if only for a few minutes. The surgery went smoothly, and Isabel had responded well to the epidural. But Max was still worried over the complications that may arise. In fact, Dr. Whitman, to whom he had spoken shortly after the surgery was through, had said that there was likely the possibility of that occurring, so he was going to keep monitoring her for a few days.
Aaron's surgery was a success. The kid was wide-awake; his leg heavily wrapped in a gauze-soft cast and propped up in traction. They would have to schedule for physical therapy, after approximately two to three weeks of recovery.
Max was seated on the bed, listening to his son babble about the operation and how cool it was, "you know, Dad, I always wanted to know how it felt to have a cast..." His blue eyes dropped to his leg, "I thought they were going to be more solid."
Max chuckled lightly at the disappointment in his son's voice, "it's just for a while. They are going to wait for your wound to heal a little, so they can remove the stitches. Then they'll cast your leg."
"Will you be the first one to sign it?"
"Of course."
Both their heads swung at the new entrance. Dr. Fabrega made his way to Aaron's bed, a penlight in hand. "Hey there, scout. I'm Dr. Samuel Fabrega, I'll be monitoring your condition while you're here... How're you feeling?" At the same time, he directed the light to Aaron's eyes, searching the irises and corneas for any irregularities. Satisfied, he pulled back.
"Great! Will you sign my cast, too? How long do I have to wait for my new HARD cast?"
Samuel chuckled, "a few weeks. Joan will help you with your physical therapy. I would like you to start with minor movements. I don't want you losing your muscle tones from lying too long in bed."
"Do I get to be in a wheelchair?" Aaron asked excitedly.
"Only to take you to Joan's 'headquarters'."
A nurse burst into the room, breathing hard from running, as she called frantically, "Dr. Fabrega, myocardial infarction, patient 192!"
"Excuse me." Samuel said, and rushed out of the room.
"What's a microcardial infraction, Dad?"
"Myocardial infarction. It means heart attack." Max ruffled Aaron's hair when he saw his smile fade, "I'm sure it's nothing."
"Dad," Aaron started, his voice low, "it wasn't Aunt Isabel's fault."
"I know that, son."
"She's pretty bad, isn't she?" The boy's eyes filled up with tears, "she's not going to die, is she?"
Max grasped Aaron's hand in his, squeezing it comfortingly, "no, she's not. Everything's going to work out just fine, you'll see." At this point, Max didn't know who he was comforting, the boy in the bed, or himself. Standing up, "why don't you rest... you should be resting; you just got out of surgery. Just get some sleep. I'll be here when you wake up." Max kissed his son's forehead and exited the room, exhaling heavily.
"Hey."
Max looked up at the sound of the voice, a smile appearing in his tired face, "hey yourself."
Liz smiled, hugging him around the waist gently, leading them to a chair in the waiting room, "how is he?"
Max exhaled deeply, tilting his head back, relaxing in his seat, "he's fine. Just had a fracture in his leg... he's rather excited about it, though."
Liz laughed softly, "I'm glad. I suppose he's excited about the whole signed cast thing."
"Yeah."
"And," she hesitated, not sure how to approach, "how's Isabel?"
Max's breath halted altogether, "she made it out of surgery. There might be complications and she's still unconscious. They had to take out her spleen... was lacerated by some sort of metal during the accident."
"She's going to be alright."
"I know."
There was a moment of silence, as they sat there, tenderly comforting each other with their breaths and their thoughts. A whisper of solitude swept upon them, the gravity of the situation present, even though they tried to avoid confronting the truth of the situation.
Finally Max broke the silence, his eyes intent on hers, "where's Paige?"
Liz smiled, "with my mother. She really doesn't like hospitals. She'll be staying there for a while."
"Yeah. You know... you really don't have to stay here. I can handle--"
"Hey. It's all right. I want to be here."
To be continued...
Chapter 10: Forgiveness