Disclaimer: The show and its characters belong to its creator. I own nothing.

"If I can't feel, if I can't move, if I can't
think, and I can't care, then what
conceivable point is there in living?"
-Kay Redfield Jamison, An Unquiet Mind

CHAPTER SIX

He was lucky to be alive.

It was the mantra Tanya had insisted on playing on repeat for the past few weeks. This was, of course, true. Tanya would never admit to anyone beyond herself that the first thought she had had upon Nosedive's admission to her medical deck was more along the lines of, "He shouldn't be alive." It was, also, true; looking at each of his injuries separately, and then together, she was shocked that he had pulled through. He had never even flat-lined during treatment of his head injury. If Tanya had not believed in miracles beforehand – and it was iffy – she sure as hell did now.

The first four weeks had been the worst. Nosedive had pulled through remarkably. She remembered telling the team that exact phrase, in relief. He had been, however, unresponsive. Wildwing had looked as though he had been slapped when she said it. She was quick to add that the young duck was lucky to be alive and that he would recover. The latter was her own wan hope, but she had believed it to be true.

She had allowed the team to visit him at that point. He had been under her watch for nearly two days before she felt comfortable letting the others in. Especially Wildwing. In those two days, he had not said a word; he simply sat in the waiting area and allowed himself to eat – when his teammates insisted on it. As well as Nosedive was doing, Tanya simply could not trust Wildwing to keep his cool and she did not want any more stressors on the team…or on Nosedive, who looked like he could slip away at any minute.

It had lasted two weeks. Two weeks of having to watch the one-vibrant, borderline-annoying teenager lie there, as if paralyzed, eyes open, though unfocused. It had been hell; she was woman enough to admit it. Not because of having to take care of Nosedive, not at all – she would do it for any member of the team if needed – but the fact that it was Nosedive made it all the more difficult for her to handle. He was a kid, so strong, so healthy…it made no sense.

Wildwing had been an amazing assistant, she had found. Tanya had been reluctant, at first, to allow Wildwing to help in the basic care regiments of his brother (the situation was tender enough withher doing it), but Wildwing had handled it with calm and patience. No outbursts, nothing. If she had not been so preoccupied with keeping the teen duck stable, she might have felt something akin to shame at thinking her own leader would be anything other than professional.

But family was different, and this she knew.

The two weeks staggered by. Phil had taken the courtesy to cancel their games and endorsements during those weeks, which surprised the Ducks. Only Mallory had had the initiative to ask why, and even then, Phil had attempted to pass it off as: "Well, without Nosedive – who has the most charisma out of all of you – there's not a real point in shelling out money here and there, you know?" Mallory had nodded and had not pressed him on it, but she could see the worry in their manager's eyes. They had known each other enough to practically be family at this point…overbearing and money-hungry manager tactics aside.

When Nosedive finally moved and spoke, it was like oxygen had been returned to the Pond.

"Hi."

His voice was cracked and soft, but it was all that was needed. He would not be stuck in the unresponsive state. He would improve. The team had showered Nosedive with hugs and a few tears, and Tanya noticed, nervously, how he still seemed to be very detached. God, Tanya, she had told herself, he just survived God knows what and a brain injury? Of course he's detached.

Other than the "hi" and single-word responses, there was little else to be said. Nosedive was visibly disoriented, as was to be expected. The upside to this was that his personality had been given a chance to shine through; every time he forgot where he was or knocked tools off the side-table, he flashed a grin, and all was okay. Tanya forced herself to note that the memory loss may not be a good thing.

"What happened?" Nosedive had asked one Tuesday morning and Tanya nearly knocked over every medical instrument on her table. It was the first time he had spoken beyond single-word statements, and it was the first time he had asked any questions about what had happened to him. Tanya stammered, more than usual, before laughing nervously and turning on her heel to find Wildwing. It was more important that he be the one to answer the tricky questions, she felt.

"What happened?" he asked again, when Wildwing had settled into the seat beside the cot.

Wildwing cleared his throat. "Well, umm, Tanya said you had a lot of injuries, but the worst was your head." His brother stared at him, clearly wanting more information. "An injury to, I think she said, your right cerebral hemisphere. And some bilateral frontal lobe damage." He spoke nonchalantly, but Wildwing knew exactly what the injuries were, and where they were located. He had obsessed over Tanya's medical notes for weeks, after all.

"Oh." Nosedive nodded, touching his head, which was still heavily cloaked in bandages. He laid his hand down and settled deeper into his sheets, as though processing the meaningless information his brother had offered. "What happened?" he asked again.

Wildwing swallowed. "It was Dragaunus," he said, voice cracking over each syllable. "He...well, he ambushed us, took you. You were gone...forever. We tried so hard to find you, but they were hidden, Dive, and we didn't know what to do. They did things to you, we don't know what. Tanya thinks torture, sleep deprivation, I don't even know what else." Tears sprung to his eyes, then, but he forced them down. Nosedive had enough to deal with without an emotional brother. "We found you and you were bleeding out. From your head." His eyes danced upwards, to the bandaging. "We got you back in time, and you've been out for weeks now, but you're recovering. You...you're going to be fine, Dive."

Nosedive nodded. "Oh." There was a thick silence as Wildwing allowed his brother to process the information. "What happened?"

The next weeks consisted of rehabilitation: helping Nosedive begin to take over duties of taking care of himself, readjusting to every day activities and socialization, and it was going well, overall. Nosedive was, for all intents and purposes, back to normal. He carried on conversations, read comic books, ate like he had not eaten in years…

But there was something missing. Wildwing had noticed it first, but had pushed it to the back of his mind; he was much more engrossed with helping his brother readjust to every day life.

Tanya had noticed it not long after Wildwing, and she had written extensively on it on his medical file. Or, rather, it felt extensively, because it had taken her so long to find the right wording, because it all sounded so ridiculous.

Nosedive had lost his oomph. He was missing the zany, carefree attitude he had once possessed. The conversations he carried on were automatic and lacked in substance and humor, no matter how many forced smiles he peppered in. The memory loss was not helping, of course, and Nosedive was getting visibly frustrated every time someone mentioned that he had "asked that question already" or "they just told him, doesn't he remember?"

Her first instinct was PTSD, but she had hardly had a chance to talk with him about what had happened, much less make an unprofessional diagnosis. She was desperate for answers, and she knew that was not a good move on her part. Objectivity and all that.

So she tried barely touching the subject, allowing Nosedive to take the lead of the conversation, if he was ready. "They killed me," he had said with a shrug. "That's what they wanted to do." He then shifted; he always had a difficult time getting comfortable, what with the heavy amount of bandaging: on his head, his chest, his arms…Tanya had not told Wildwing or Nosedive yet that the chances of the teen regaining full usage of his right hand was slim-to-none. An issue for another day…plus Nosedive had done a great job thus far at surprising her, so she did not want to jump the gun on anything. Not until she absolutely had to.

Nosedive slept constantly, drank in every minute as though he had never felt it before. That, coupled with the cognitive issues, was what brought Tanya to assume there had a good deal of sleep deprivation. There were also the factors of the dark circles beneath Nosedive's eyes and his constant mumblings of, "God, they never let me sleep." Admittedly, more the last clue than the others, but if you just go believing the ramblings of a brain-damaged, malnourished, disoriented teenager, then you would be led down a series of rabbit trails. She had needed the other evidence.

Nosedive had improved a great deal, and for that, everyone was relieved. But, as Tanya's medical notes had stated, it was true: his personality was different. The jokes were few and far in-between, and he was missing his vibrant attitude, but no one said anything, lest they jinx the miracle that the kid was still there.

"How are you, uhh, feeling?" Tanya asked, as she did every morning. She shined a light into the teen's eyes.

"Ow." Nosedive rubbed at his eyelids. "I'm good. Same as yesterday, I guess. Less tired though."

Tanya nodded, scribbling in her notes. "Anything else, uhh, bothering you? Head? Arm? Any pain?"

He shrugged. "No more than usual. My head's killing me and I still can't feel anything here." He held up his hand, still cloaked in white bandaging. "But…yeah, I guess there's something. Everything's all…blurry. Like I have water in my eyes or like I'm wearing your glasses." He chewed his lip, as though ashamed. "But it's not a big deal. I'm okay."

In all honesty, it had begun to feel a big deal. It was like he was seeing the world through two kaleidoscopes. Constant spinning, inability to adjust his eyesight, but only in the morning. As the day went on, everything would come into focus and he felt…fine.

As another week dragged by, Tanya noted that there had been a change in his personality, but not in the way that she had hoped. Nosedive had become fearful of everything around him, and simply not stop talking about his near-death experience. Tanya knew that talking about what had happened was probably the best thing for Nosedive, but there was a fascination about him as he spoke, as though…

She shook her head at the thought. After all the kid had been through, she was there trying to analyze his reactions? Guilt filled her and she put a stop to her worries right there.

"They killed me, you know." He said it every morning, in a state of near-sleep and slur. Tanya knew; she had seen and put together the charts on Nosedive since admission. She had seen him in the woods that night, bleeding and clinging to life. She knew, maybe more than Nosedive did, at this point.

He exploded, twice. Both times, he said the same thing. "You killed him! You killed Wildwing!" He had been short of sobbing at that point, thrashing in his bed to the point that Tanya had to have Grin put restraints on him.

Wildwing had attempted to comfort his brother, but to no avail. "I'm right here, Dive," he had said. "No one killed me. I'm right…I'm right here."

Nosedive had stared at his brother, had seenhim, then shook his head maniacally. "You're not him! I'm not stupid, you asshole! You're not him!"

The shouting had continued until Tanya had sedated the kid. It had to be done, she had explained to no one in particular – especially since no one had questioned her. "He's…he's just experiencing…" Her voice trailed, stammered. "I don't know," she admitted.

Since his outburst, things had gotten progressively worse, but not in the violent way she had expected. Nosedive simply refused to eat, refused everything that was offered to him. He insisted on being removed from all medications and anything else Tanya had provided for him.

"I don't need it," he said. "I'm dead."

To be continued...