Stumble Into Grace-Chapter 20
A/N Fair warning, language, lots of language.
-Angel-
I've growled at every nurse that has been in here since last night. Finally they are beginning to get the idea that I want to be left the hell alone. I have the shades on the windows drawn, the TV is off. I'm brooding. I'm damn good at it too. I should be. I've had a century or so to practice. The door to my room opens and I glare at it, ready to skewer the person coming through there.
"I thought maybe you needed something in here to brighten up your room." Buffy walks in holding a green plant, looking at cheerful as humanly possible. I want to pick her up and throw her out of the room; only I can't because I can't stand much less walk.
I growl. She sets the plant on the windowsill and jerks open the blinds. The room is flooded with bright sunlight.
I squint my eyes and throw up my arm in defense. "I wanted those shut."
"And I want them open. It's entirely to dark and depressing in here." Buffy gestures to the plant. "Besides, plants need light. That is lucky bamboo. I figured it couldn't hurt and it'd be nice to have something green in here."
"Buffy, I don't want something green in here. I want it dark, I want it quiet and I want to be left alone." I yell.
"Angel, you might be able to scare every nurse in here. You might even be able to scare the doctors. You can't scare me, so cut the bullshit, quit yelling at me and deal with my being here." Buffy gives me slayer eyes.
"What if I don't want you here?" I snarl at her.
"Then you're going to have to get off your ass and throw me out because I'm not moving." She crosses her arms over her chest and juts out one hip.
"That's not fair. You know I can't even fucking stand up!" I scream.
"Then you're going to have to live with me being in your face every day until you can." Buffy says. She sits down in a chair next to the bed and turns on the TV.
"Bitch," I mutter.
She ignores me. An orderly brings me a tray of rubbery looking eggs, some plastic bacon, triangles of cardboard toast and a cup of fruit.
"I don't want to eat." I growl.
"Sorry, Sir, I have orders to leave the tray with you." The orderly pulls the bedside table out and places the tray on it.
"I told you, I don't want to eat." I pick the tray up and throw it at the orderly. She runs out of the room crying. Buffy calmly watches some stupid talk show while all this goes on. She doesn't even comment on my outburst.
The physical therapist comes in shortly after a different orderly cleans up the mess I made. He's a big man, probably in his early thirties. He looks like he was probably a line backer in college. His red hair is shorn almost to his head. He has a wide open smile and that alone pisses me off because he's entirely too happy.
"Morning, Angel. I'm Patrick, your physical therapist." He holds out his hand for me to shake.
"I don't care who the fuck you are. Get out of my room." I growl and pointedly ignore his hand.
Buffy stands up and walks over to us. "Don't mind him. He's a little grumpy. I'm Buffy, Angel's wife." She sticks her hand out and shakes his.
I growl deep in my chest. She doesn't have to be so fucking friendly to him. He'll end up making a pass at her and I can't even fucking defend her! This is just great, he's going to try and have an affair with my wife and I can't do a damn thing about it.
"Get the hell out of my room away from my wife!" I yell.
Buffy shoots me a withering glare. I ignore it. If she can ignore my outbursts I can ignore her bitchy behavior.
"You've got an hour of physical therapy with me down in the physical therapy room. So let's get started." Patrick parks a wheelchair next to my bed. He leans over to help me out of bed and into the wheelchair.
"I can do it." I snarl.
He steps back and lets me fumble and curse until I manage to more or less fall into the wheel chair. I'll probably have a bruise on my right hip, fucking fragile human bodies. I curse under my breath as Patrick wheels me out of the room.
-Buffy-
I hold my breath, waiting until Angel is far enough down the hall that he can't hear me. Once I'm certain they've had enough time to get to the elevators, I let the breath out with a whoosh. The sobs come with it. I lie down in the middle of Angel's bed and sob. I don't want to treat him like this. I want to coddle him and baby him and take care of him. He won't let me. He can push me away all he wants though, I'm not leaving him. I'm not going to let him go through this alone. No one should have to do that. I get a hold of myself and look at the clock. I've still got forty minutes until Patrick brings Angel back to his room. I pick up the in room phone and call Willow.
As soon as she answers the phone, I lose it again. "Oh, God, Will. I don't think I can do this. He's so angry." I sob.
"That's normal, Buffy. It's the third stage of grief." Willow says.
"He totally blew past the first and second stage, Will. He likes this stage a lot." I say.
"Yeah, he's used to fighting his battles. He wants something to hit and there's nothing. He may be angry for a really long time. Hopefully he can use the anger and make it benefit him." Willow says.
"Yeah, if he doesn't kill his physical therapist for smiling at me." I mutter.
"That bad, huh?" Willow asks.
"It really is." I say with a sigh.
"Well, look at it this way. The physical therapist can run away." Willow offers.
*
Angel returns looking very tired. He's quiet and sullen. He actually lets Patrick help him into the bed. I walk over and perch myself on the edge of the bed. I take Angel's hand in mine. He doesn't pull away from me, but he doesn't encourage me either.
"How did it go?" I ask.
"He did really well. He doesn't think so, but for his first time, it was good. I'll be back at the same time tomorrow. It's not going to happen over night, but if we keep working we'll see progress." Patrick says.
"Thank you for not killing him." I say sweetly.
Patrick chuckles. "Most people have to warm up to me. I'll see you tomorrow Angel, Mrs. Summers." Patrick nodded and walked out of the room.
"You sure you don't want to go with him and see if he needs a dinner date?" Angel grumbles. He still sounds tired. He's just trying not to show it.
"Nope, I have a dinner date right here." I say.
Angel just grumbles and closes his eyes. He still hasn't pulled his hand away so I snuggle up next to his right side. I lay my head on his shoulder and wrap my arm around his waist. Almost reluctantly, like he's not over being mad at me, he puts his arm around me. Soon he has me cuddled up to him and his face is buried in the crown of my head. I'm tired. I didn't sleep much the night before. I close my eyes and drift off to the sound of his heart beat.
-Angel-
I've been paralyzed for a month now. I've been going to physical therapy for three weeks. I don't think it's getting any better. Patrick, the asshole, does. I think he's just afraid he'll lose his fucking job if he doesn't act like I'm making progress. Progress my ass; I can't even feel the fucking pins the doctor sticks in my toes twice a week, and to make things even better they are sending me home today. Buffy acts like it's a huge deal. Where does it really matter where I am? It's not like I could walk around and enjoy the view or anything. She's bustling around the room right now, gathering things up and talking a mile a minute acting like she's so happy that I'm going home.
"Buffy, you don't have to go back to the apartment with me. The asshole gave me a whole list of nurses I could hire to take care of me." She knows The asshole is my name for Patrick.
"I know I don't have to, Angel. I wouldn't be anywhere else." She says.
"Yeah right, like you want to be stuck in an apartment with a fucking cripple." I growl. "You need to be with someone who can-"
"So help me God if you utter the words into the light I will slap the holy shit out of you." Buffy says turning her slayer eyes back on me.
"It's true, Buffy. Hell, the doctor doesn't even know if I can get a fucking erection! Did you know that? Did you know I might have problems getting it up? Oh I can take Viagra, that will probably help he says. I have the fucking body of a 27 year old man and I might have to take Viagra! Isn't that exciting? Is that how you want to spend the rest of your life?" I yell at her.
Buffy pulls her mouth into a straight line, tucking her lips between her teeth. Her eyes jump with anger. She's trying really hard not to beat the shit out of me. When she finally speaks her voice is very tight, very controlled. "Angel, I want my life to be with you. I don't care about what you can't do or can't give me because what I get from lying in your arms, listening to your heart beat is more then anyone has ever been able to give me. I spent a long time trying to get over you. Hell sometimes I think I've spent my entire life trying to get over you. I'm never getting over you. It is never over between us. It never will be. I love you and we're going to deal with this together, for the rest of our lives."
When she gets like this I know it's pointless to argue with her. I'm not talking to Buffy, I'm talking to the Slayer and I might as well be talking to a fortress for all the good it will do me. I don't say anything. I just turn my head and look out the window. It's a cold gray day; at least it suits my mood.
Dr. Fultan walks in the room. He's got a clipboard full of papers Buffy and I will have to sign.
"Are you ready to go home, Mr. Summers?" Dr. Fultan asks.
"Does it matter?" I respond.
The doctor clears his throat and smiles at Buffy. I think he's still pissed at the clipboard I threw at him last week. I hit him too. I would have hit his forehead but he's pretty quick and threw his forearm up to block it.
"Mrs. Summers, I think we've gone over most of the information already but I just want to go over a couple more things. There should be a prescription of muscle relaxers down in the pharmacy for Angel if he gets muscle spasms. He has to be here for therapy every day. Patrick has discussed that with you, I'm sure. Also I wanted to make sure you had hired a part time nurse at least to help you."
"No, I'll be taking care of Angel myself." Buffy says.
"Mrs. Summers, I think your underestimating the amount of care Angel is going to need. He's a big man, there's no way you can possibly take care of him yourself." Dr. Fultan says.
Buffy smiles sweetly at him. Sometimes I forget that other people perceive her for exactly what she looks like, a tiny, fragile blond. "I'm stronger then I look." She says.
The doctor shakes his head and looks down at the papers on his clipboard. "Alright, but if you need someone, I've included a list of excellent care service providers with your paperwork. I'm sure they can make someone available immediately should you change your mind." The doctor hands me the clipboard and his pen. "Angel, if you'll just sign there where I've put the x's."
I growl and start signing. My signature is more of a scrawl then anything. I actually do sign it Angel Summers, because I like the idea of playing house with Buffy while it lasts. I hand the clipboard back to him when I'm done.
"Alright, you are free to go then. I know you bought a wheel chair, someone should be bringing it up here shortly and I will see you in a week." He smiles and leaves without waiting for any response from us. Buffy shuts the door behind him. She gets my clothes out of the cheap armoire in the room. I surrender to the humiliation of having her dress me, because really my other choice is to have The Asshole help me.
An orderly, a new one since I think I've thrown something or yelled at all the others, brings the wheelchair in. He parks it next to the bed and puts on the brake. Buffy stands close but she doesn't crowd me. I'm still a little awkward due to my broken left arm, the cast comes off in a couple of weeks, but I can now manage to get into the wheelchair with some semblance of grace.
The orderly pushes me through the hospital to the front entrance where Willow is waiting with Oz's van. Buffy follows behind us carrying my lucky bamboo and some other crap I somehow accumulated while I was there. Why the fuck does anyone think people in the hospital need balloons and flowers and plants and every other sort of crap they can clutter up a room with? The orderly parks the wheelchair in front of the van. Buffy hands the plants and other crap to Willow. She and the orderly put me in the van. I have never been so fucking humiliated in my life. I'm worse then an infant, at least they look cute.
I sit in the back and grumble and growl while Willow and Buffy try to cheer me up. I don't want to be cheered up. This is worse then when Cordy used to try to pull me out of brood mode. They are both chattering up in the front seat like this is some cause for celebration. I scowl and stare out the window.
Willow parks the van and I sit by and wait while Buffy gets the wheelchair out. With her help, a lot of her help, I manage to get into the wheelchair without mishap. The doorman greets us like he sees me in a wheelchair everyday. Buffy must have warned him a head of time. Why the hell couldn't they lock me in some dark basement and just leave me the hell alone?
We get to the apartment and I'm half afraid Buffy has planned some sort of welcome home party. I really can't handle people right now, certainly not people pretending to be happy. I'm thankful when the apartment is cool, quiet and empty. Buffy tells Willow goodbye and thanks for all her help. I grunt something that might pass as a thanks. Buffy shuts and locks the door behind Willow and turns to me.
"So what now?"
That's the 64 million dollar question isn't it?
A/N Fair warning, language, lots of language.
-Angel-
I've growled at every nurse that has been in here since last night. Finally they are beginning to get the idea that I want to be left the hell alone. I have the shades on the windows drawn, the TV is off. I'm brooding. I'm damn good at it too. I should be. I've had a century or so to practice. The door to my room opens and I glare at it, ready to skewer the person coming through there.
"I thought maybe you needed something in here to brighten up your room." Buffy walks in holding a green plant, looking at cheerful as humanly possible. I want to pick her up and throw her out of the room; only I can't because I can't stand much less walk.
I growl. She sets the plant on the windowsill and jerks open the blinds. The room is flooded with bright sunlight.
I squint my eyes and throw up my arm in defense. "I wanted those shut."
"And I want them open. It's entirely to dark and depressing in here." Buffy gestures to the plant. "Besides, plants need light. That is lucky bamboo. I figured it couldn't hurt and it'd be nice to have something green in here."
"Buffy, I don't want something green in here. I want it dark, I want it quiet and I want to be left alone." I yell.
"Angel, you might be able to scare every nurse in here. You might even be able to scare the doctors. You can't scare me, so cut the bullshit, quit yelling at me and deal with my being here." Buffy gives me slayer eyes.
"What if I don't want you here?" I snarl at her.
"Then you're going to have to get off your ass and throw me out because I'm not moving." She crosses her arms over her chest and juts out one hip.
"That's not fair. You know I can't even fucking stand up!" I scream.
"Then you're going to have to live with me being in your face every day until you can." Buffy says. She sits down in a chair next to the bed and turns on the TV.
"Bitch," I mutter.
She ignores me. An orderly brings me a tray of rubbery looking eggs, some plastic bacon, triangles of cardboard toast and a cup of fruit.
"I don't want to eat." I growl.
"Sorry, Sir, I have orders to leave the tray with you." The orderly pulls the bedside table out and places the tray on it.
"I told you, I don't want to eat." I pick the tray up and throw it at the orderly. She runs out of the room crying. Buffy calmly watches some stupid talk show while all this goes on. She doesn't even comment on my outburst.
The physical therapist comes in shortly after a different orderly cleans up the mess I made. He's a big man, probably in his early thirties. He looks like he was probably a line backer in college. His red hair is shorn almost to his head. He has a wide open smile and that alone pisses me off because he's entirely too happy.
"Morning, Angel. I'm Patrick, your physical therapist." He holds out his hand for me to shake.
"I don't care who the fuck you are. Get out of my room." I growl and pointedly ignore his hand.
Buffy stands up and walks over to us. "Don't mind him. He's a little grumpy. I'm Buffy, Angel's wife." She sticks her hand out and shakes his.
I growl deep in my chest. She doesn't have to be so fucking friendly to him. He'll end up making a pass at her and I can't even fucking defend her! This is just great, he's going to try and have an affair with my wife and I can't do a damn thing about it.
"Get the hell out of my room away from my wife!" I yell.
Buffy shoots me a withering glare. I ignore it. If she can ignore my outbursts I can ignore her bitchy behavior.
"You've got an hour of physical therapy with me down in the physical therapy room. So let's get started." Patrick parks a wheelchair next to my bed. He leans over to help me out of bed and into the wheelchair.
"I can do it." I snarl.
He steps back and lets me fumble and curse until I manage to more or less fall into the wheel chair. I'll probably have a bruise on my right hip, fucking fragile human bodies. I curse under my breath as Patrick wheels me out of the room.
-Buffy-
I hold my breath, waiting until Angel is far enough down the hall that he can't hear me. Once I'm certain they've had enough time to get to the elevators, I let the breath out with a whoosh. The sobs come with it. I lie down in the middle of Angel's bed and sob. I don't want to treat him like this. I want to coddle him and baby him and take care of him. He won't let me. He can push me away all he wants though, I'm not leaving him. I'm not going to let him go through this alone. No one should have to do that. I get a hold of myself and look at the clock. I've still got forty minutes until Patrick brings Angel back to his room. I pick up the in room phone and call Willow.
As soon as she answers the phone, I lose it again. "Oh, God, Will. I don't think I can do this. He's so angry." I sob.
"That's normal, Buffy. It's the third stage of grief." Willow says.
"He totally blew past the first and second stage, Will. He likes this stage a lot." I say.
"Yeah, he's used to fighting his battles. He wants something to hit and there's nothing. He may be angry for a really long time. Hopefully he can use the anger and make it benefit him." Willow says.
"Yeah, if he doesn't kill his physical therapist for smiling at me." I mutter.
"That bad, huh?" Willow asks.
"It really is." I say with a sigh.
"Well, look at it this way. The physical therapist can run away." Willow offers.
*
Angel returns looking very tired. He's quiet and sullen. He actually lets Patrick help him into the bed. I walk over and perch myself on the edge of the bed. I take Angel's hand in mine. He doesn't pull away from me, but he doesn't encourage me either.
"How did it go?" I ask.
"He did really well. He doesn't think so, but for his first time, it was good. I'll be back at the same time tomorrow. It's not going to happen over night, but if we keep working we'll see progress." Patrick says.
"Thank you for not killing him." I say sweetly.
Patrick chuckles. "Most people have to warm up to me. I'll see you tomorrow Angel, Mrs. Summers." Patrick nodded and walked out of the room.
"You sure you don't want to go with him and see if he needs a dinner date?" Angel grumbles. He still sounds tired. He's just trying not to show it.
"Nope, I have a dinner date right here." I say.
Angel just grumbles and closes his eyes. He still hasn't pulled his hand away so I snuggle up next to his right side. I lay my head on his shoulder and wrap my arm around his waist. Almost reluctantly, like he's not over being mad at me, he puts his arm around me. Soon he has me cuddled up to him and his face is buried in the crown of my head. I'm tired. I didn't sleep much the night before. I close my eyes and drift off to the sound of his heart beat.
-Angel-
I've been paralyzed for a month now. I've been going to physical therapy for three weeks. I don't think it's getting any better. Patrick, the asshole, does. I think he's just afraid he'll lose his fucking job if he doesn't act like I'm making progress. Progress my ass; I can't even feel the fucking pins the doctor sticks in my toes twice a week, and to make things even better they are sending me home today. Buffy acts like it's a huge deal. Where does it really matter where I am? It's not like I could walk around and enjoy the view or anything. She's bustling around the room right now, gathering things up and talking a mile a minute acting like she's so happy that I'm going home.
"Buffy, you don't have to go back to the apartment with me. The asshole gave me a whole list of nurses I could hire to take care of me." She knows The asshole is my name for Patrick.
"I know I don't have to, Angel. I wouldn't be anywhere else." She says.
"Yeah right, like you want to be stuck in an apartment with a fucking cripple." I growl. "You need to be with someone who can-"
"So help me God if you utter the words into the light I will slap the holy shit out of you." Buffy says turning her slayer eyes back on me.
"It's true, Buffy. Hell, the doctor doesn't even know if I can get a fucking erection! Did you know that? Did you know I might have problems getting it up? Oh I can take Viagra, that will probably help he says. I have the fucking body of a 27 year old man and I might have to take Viagra! Isn't that exciting? Is that how you want to spend the rest of your life?" I yell at her.
Buffy pulls her mouth into a straight line, tucking her lips between her teeth. Her eyes jump with anger. She's trying really hard not to beat the shit out of me. When she finally speaks her voice is very tight, very controlled. "Angel, I want my life to be with you. I don't care about what you can't do or can't give me because what I get from lying in your arms, listening to your heart beat is more then anyone has ever been able to give me. I spent a long time trying to get over you. Hell sometimes I think I've spent my entire life trying to get over you. I'm never getting over you. It is never over between us. It never will be. I love you and we're going to deal with this together, for the rest of our lives."
When she gets like this I know it's pointless to argue with her. I'm not talking to Buffy, I'm talking to the Slayer and I might as well be talking to a fortress for all the good it will do me. I don't say anything. I just turn my head and look out the window. It's a cold gray day; at least it suits my mood.
Dr. Fultan walks in the room. He's got a clipboard full of papers Buffy and I will have to sign.
"Are you ready to go home, Mr. Summers?" Dr. Fultan asks.
"Does it matter?" I respond.
The doctor clears his throat and smiles at Buffy. I think he's still pissed at the clipboard I threw at him last week. I hit him too. I would have hit his forehead but he's pretty quick and threw his forearm up to block it.
"Mrs. Summers, I think we've gone over most of the information already but I just want to go over a couple more things. There should be a prescription of muscle relaxers down in the pharmacy for Angel if he gets muscle spasms. He has to be here for therapy every day. Patrick has discussed that with you, I'm sure. Also I wanted to make sure you had hired a part time nurse at least to help you."
"No, I'll be taking care of Angel myself." Buffy says.
"Mrs. Summers, I think your underestimating the amount of care Angel is going to need. He's a big man, there's no way you can possibly take care of him yourself." Dr. Fultan says.
Buffy smiles sweetly at him. Sometimes I forget that other people perceive her for exactly what she looks like, a tiny, fragile blond. "I'm stronger then I look." She says.
The doctor shakes his head and looks down at the papers on his clipboard. "Alright, but if you need someone, I've included a list of excellent care service providers with your paperwork. I'm sure they can make someone available immediately should you change your mind." The doctor hands me the clipboard and his pen. "Angel, if you'll just sign there where I've put the x's."
I growl and start signing. My signature is more of a scrawl then anything. I actually do sign it Angel Summers, because I like the idea of playing house with Buffy while it lasts. I hand the clipboard back to him when I'm done.
"Alright, you are free to go then. I know you bought a wheel chair, someone should be bringing it up here shortly and I will see you in a week." He smiles and leaves without waiting for any response from us. Buffy shuts the door behind him. She gets my clothes out of the cheap armoire in the room. I surrender to the humiliation of having her dress me, because really my other choice is to have The Asshole help me.
An orderly, a new one since I think I've thrown something or yelled at all the others, brings the wheelchair in. He parks it next to the bed and puts on the brake. Buffy stands close but she doesn't crowd me. I'm still a little awkward due to my broken left arm, the cast comes off in a couple of weeks, but I can now manage to get into the wheelchair with some semblance of grace.
The orderly pushes me through the hospital to the front entrance where Willow is waiting with Oz's van. Buffy follows behind us carrying my lucky bamboo and some other crap I somehow accumulated while I was there. Why the fuck does anyone think people in the hospital need balloons and flowers and plants and every other sort of crap they can clutter up a room with? The orderly parks the wheelchair in front of the van. Buffy hands the plants and other crap to Willow. She and the orderly put me in the van. I have never been so fucking humiliated in my life. I'm worse then an infant, at least they look cute.
I sit in the back and grumble and growl while Willow and Buffy try to cheer me up. I don't want to be cheered up. This is worse then when Cordy used to try to pull me out of brood mode. They are both chattering up in the front seat like this is some cause for celebration. I scowl and stare out the window.
Willow parks the van and I sit by and wait while Buffy gets the wheelchair out. With her help, a lot of her help, I manage to get into the wheelchair without mishap. The doorman greets us like he sees me in a wheelchair everyday. Buffy must have warned him a head of time. Why the hell couldn't they lock me in some dark basement and just leave me the hell alone?
We get to the apartment and I'm half afraid Buffy has planned some sort of welcome home party. I really can't handle people right now, certainly not people pretending to be happy. I'm thankful when the apartment is cool, quiet and empty. Buffy tells Willow goodbye and thanks for all her help. I grunt something that might pass as a thanks. Buffy shuts and locks the door behind Willow and turns to me.
"So what now?"
That's the 64 million dollar question isn't it?