There were days I could actually pretend I was Jack Winchester. Truth was Jack Winchester was a figment of my imagination as much as everyone else's. I would say hello to Sally in the ER or ask about Krista's kids. I knew people, but they never knew me. I could almost pretend I was in paradise some days.
Problem with all Edens, however, is eventually you get kicked out and have to face real life.
Like right now. Hours after Krista picked me off the floor and took me to the bathroom. When she asked what was going on. And when I looked up at her, face stark and pale, and told her that was Sammy on that gurney.
She held me after that, like I was one of her kids and she was chasing away some nightmare.
We went to the desk and Amy, the receptionist, told me to contact Dr. Warner about the other two in the car, and oh god, I think the world just tilted right then. But it could be that I almost fainted right there and Krista, used to having patients fall down, grabbed me by the waist before I fell on my ass.
John was the less wounded. His knee was in bad shape where it hit the dashboard and broke his patella, he had a bullet wound, and a few bruised ribs. His leg was going to give his some trouble. They told me he would probably need physical therapy.
Both Sam and Dean were still in surgery, but John was out and in the ward, rather than ICU. Hopefully Sam and Dean would join us there.
I laid back in the chair, looking over my father's face as he laid there on pain meds. I couldn't help but think about how different me and my siblings looked from on another. Dean always had mom's facial features from what I could remember of her and dad's eyes. Sammy always looked more like half and half: dad's eyes, but mom's bone structure, but dad's nose.
Me, now I was the opposite of Dean: dad's facial structure and mom's gray eyes. I always had that five o'clock shadow like dad and his darker hair. But I was the shortest in the family. I was five feet and ten inches, making me the runt of the Winchester men.
I couldn't help but remembering that at 12, it was Sam who always looked so small. I never thought he'd be taller than any of us, let alone me.
Now it was even weirder to see the tallest Winchester looking so fragile, like he was the five year old who still needed Dean and I when the nightmares got bad. He was so pale, so shattered looking. Not that Dean was any better. I had seen him rushed off to surgery, the doctors already sucking out the blood in his chest cavity. Dean was always so strong. I was faster, sure, but he could usually land my ass with a couple of punches. Not that I would ever admit it, but seeing him like that was more a shock than anything else.
I wondered if they were ever going to get out of surgery or if their doctors were ever going to tell me anything. I didn't even know what time it was or how long they'd been in the ER.
And I hated not being able to do something. I held my breath and sat up, taking my chair over to dad, wanting to be nearby. I sat back down again, taking in everything. The few machines needed in the room were humming gently, the starkness caused by the florescent lights. Once it would have been normal for me, familiar. Not the hospital was unwelcoming and scary.
I started talking, why I don't know, but with all this nervous energy I had to do something. I wouldn't leave dad for a smoke and I couldn't smoke in a hospital, so I guess I did the next best thing. Talk.
"Hey John, it's me, Jack. Look, I know you're probably asleep right now, but I just, I've never been good with words to your face. But I just need someone here right now. Sam and Dean, they're in trouble, d-John. I'm scared. I'm scared they won't make it. And I can't even tell them I'm right here and how much I missed them, not that I'm sure I could tell them that, ever. Not when they're awake anyway."
I scooted closer, as quietly as I could as if one wrong move would shatter everything in the room. "Do you remember when I was five? When I finally started speaking? I'll bet you remember the nightmares. You and Dean always thought they were about mom. And some of them were, you know? But most were about you and Dean and Sam. I was so afraid back then. That you and Dean and Sam would die the same way mom did and leave me, alone. I didn't want to be alone back then. It used to scare me that if I didn't stay up and watch Dean and Sam, they'd go away in a ball of flame. I would sneak in you're room sometimes, too. Just to make sure you were still there."
I looked over him, my voice barely a whisper, tears threatening. "When I was a bit older and I found out what you did, it scared me even more. I would wait up when I was supposed to be asleep and Dean was in bed and worry. It was worse when Dean and Sam started to hunt. I was worried you die and you wouldn't be able to let go. That you'd become the things you hunted. I think that's why I started to go into my room more, dad. I figured I was going to be all alone anyway so I had better get used to it. Ever heard of self prophesy? It's where you believe something is going to happen that you actually cause it to happen. Oedipus is prime example. I guess that was part of why I left. You just gave me the prefect excuse, you know?"
"I don't know if you remember, sometimes people who have gone through some medical trauma don't actually remember how they got in the hospital. You were in a car accident. They think Dean and Sam were trying to get you to a hospital, when the truck hit you. I know what happened though. Something finally caught up with you. Something bad and you miscalculated in some way. I'd venture a guess it was about the thing that killed mom. You're always too careful with everything else, planning every little what if scenario. But if it was the thing that killed mom, I could see you letting down your guard."
I leaned back in my chair, thinking. I felt cold and sick as I looked over dad. I watched his breathing, rhythmically and unbroken. I suddenly couldn't help smiling a bit. There was no hitch in his breath, no slight snore. Whenever dad was asleep, there was always that hitch. I had watched him and my brothers enough to know their sleep patterns. The SOB was awake!
I decided not to break the contemplation now between us. It would only embarrass me, besides.
"I need a cup of coffee, ok? I'll be back though. I'm not going to leave tonight. John, just get better, ok?"
I got up, replacing the chair and slipped out of the room. Just before I closed the door, I could have sworn I heard John whisper something. But I couldn't be sure of what and there were already enough problems to deal with.
Instead of getting coffee, however, I called Gannie. She answered on the first ring, meaning she had been waiting up for me. I felt a paroxysm of guilt as she answered.
"Jackie, hun, that had best be you?"
I sighed, trying to stop my voice from shaking. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry I didn't call earlier."
Gannie still must have heard the slight snag in my voice. "Sugar?"
"Gannie, it's my brothers. They're here…in the hospital. So is John, but he's in the ward."
"Oh, baby, you want me to come over? Never mind, I got my purse. Honey, you just stay there! You got that? I'll be right there. You get a cup of coffee or a doughnut or something. I'll be right there!" I heard some noise in the background and the jingle of keys. "No cigarettes, though! Last thing you need!"
The phone died on me then and I hung up and slumped down, still feeling sick. I didn't know if I could even hold down a cup of coffee. My stomach threatened to heave again, but I grabbed a cup of water.
I held it in my numbed hands for a few more minutes, before finally throwing it out. I couldn't even choke that down without my stomach churning dangerously. I didn't even register Jenny, when she tapped me on the shoulder.
"Jack?"
I turned and nodded.
"Um, your brother, the one with hemothorax? He's out of surgery and in the recovery room. Listen if you need…"
"Thank Jen" I nodded again and went back to John's room, slumping back into the chair next to my father.
"Jack?" That voice, I struggled to reach it again. It was musically feminine and filled with so much peace, all I wanted to do was fall into it.
"Jack stop!" But I couldn't, not until I reached her. I almost had her hand again, milky skin against mine. I could feel it brush against my fingertips again, but so warm this time. I couldn't stop reaching for her.
"You can't stay here, Jack. You can't stay here with me." It was a calm whisper, and I could feel the warmth of her fingers. I tried to reach for her hand again, but all I caught was air.
I want to, god I want to stay!
"Jack, it's time to wake up now, baby. Jack? Jack?" The voice was changing, into something even more familiar and steady. But I couldn't stop reaching for her. I tried with everything I had, when something poked me.
"Jack!" Dad, John's voice. What was he doing here?
My eyes snapped open involuntarily. I was in the hospital and shook my head slightly, realizing my mistake. I had fallen asleep in the chair next to… I sat up swiftly, my back protesting with a sharp pang. I groaned. Damnit, how long was I out?
I looked over at dad, his green ones meeting my gray ones.
"Hey." I sighed, waiting for the questions. After a few moments, I realized John wasn't going to break the silence and I wasn't in a mood. I scooted closer to him.
"Car accident." I said as way of explaining where he was. "You're in Jefferson County Hospital."
"Dean?"
I knewhe would access his own injuries later and begin with my brothers. I sighed and shook my head as if to say yeah, Dean's here.
"Dean has hemothorax, meaning blood was filling up the space around his lungs. I watched them wheel him into surgery, blood coming out of his mouth, which suggested that he other problems, perhaps bleeding in the lungs themselves. But the doctors could find anything else wrong, but the hemothorax, which was odd. He didn't seem to have gotten it from the crash, due to the lack of hitting anything and there were no broken ribs. Just a large bruise on his abdomen."
I paused, letting his mind process it all. Dad nodded, taking this in, and I continued.
"They found a way to excuse it, saying Dean must have slammed into the seat with enough force to cause trauma to the blood vessels. I didn't bother to correct the doctors, though." I knew what had happened. This was a botched hunt. There was no mistaking it. What had actually happened, I could only speculate.
Dad seemed to understand this and I resumed once more.
"Dean is in recovery right now. I have to wait until he gets out of the recovery room to see him. And before you ask, there was no point in me fighting it, unless I wanted to be sent home and you would have to wait for a doctor for this information." He gave me a look, but said nothing. I knew I needed to give him time to let all of that sink in. I waited for him.
"Sam?"
I nodded, trying not to sob or start crying. Sammy was the worst of all with flail chest. Finally I was able to hang onto myself.
"Sam is the worst. I don't know if he's out of surgery yet. He has flail chest from hitting the steering wheel. Flail chest is where enough ribs are broken (usually from a crush injury) to compromise the rigidity of the chest wall. Meaning the patient is in a hell of a lot of pain and his breathing is paradoxical." It sounded so cold to consider my brother's patients, but it was the truth.
"It means Sam can't get enough oxygen. Not that you'd want to breathe with that much pain anyways. He'll be intubed for a while."
Before he could go on, I nodded. "You're the least injured. Broken kneecap, bullet wound that was this close to hitting the femoral artery, so you're damn lucky you didn't bleed out, and you have bruised ribs. Impala is wrecked from what I heard."
He nodded and sighed.
"I'm glad you're alright." I didn't know what else to say.
He nodded again. "So, you a doctor?"
I shook my head. "No, x-ray tech. Though I do have a certificate in respiratory therapy."
Dad nodded.
I wanted to hug him, make sure he was still here. "Joh-Dad, I'm really sorry, I-"
He shook his head. "It's ok, Jack."
I shook my head. "No, its not. What I said, back then…" I paused, not knowing what to say. Like I've said before, I've never been good feelings. and I wanted dad to understand.
His eyes were glistening, but I ignored it. "Jack, it's ok. Let's worry about Sam and Dean."
I nodded "Look, I'm going to find out what happened to Sam, kay?"
John nodded and I sighed in relief. Maybe we could actually survive this.
Oh I got reviews! I know, this chappie sucked. But at least you know what happened to Dean and Sammy and John. But what is going on with Jack?
Thank you again all these people who signed reviews.
Sweet as the Punch: Yeah, it does. Thank you!I really tried to make him a flawed character. I see both Dean and Sam as very flawed heros, and well, tried to make Jack as real as I could.
Thank you all! Please leave reviews!
