Disclaimer:
Not mine…mostly.
Rating:
Somewhat descriptive sexual images.
Spoilers: A rough AU continuation from Ep. 402 and 403.
Summary: Alex-centric drama that also includes all other characters, conventional pairings and break ups as a car crash and subsequent shooting have far reaching repercussions for many Seattle Grace staff members.
Chapter Summary: Hints of a threesome, Alex starts the recovery process and so do George and Callie.
Thanks to IceWhisper (Comma Nazi) for beta-ing, all mistakes that you find are my own!
Time in Tableaus – Chapter Four
-
Alex leaves it until just before the witching hour to make his escape from the hospital. He guesses, and correctly too, which is the only bit of luck he's had go his way recently, that the halls will be relatively empty and if he can manage to get himself into his causal clothes, delivered only yesterday by an ever helpful Izzie, then his escape should be pretty much guaranteed.
He foregos the t-shirt completely, doesn't think he can quite coordinate a broken back and a broken wrist to get the damn thing over his head anyway, and instead slips into a zip up jacket. Sweatpants are the next problem 'cause bending down isn't as easy as it once was, but he's determined and desperate and with only minimal support from the mattress, okay...so maybe white knuckled gripping of the bed sheets is a little more than minimal, he manages to work his somewhat uncooperative bottom half into the soft material.
Dressed, he sinks his teeth into the plastic patient ID bracelet around his right wrist and pulls, but the rigid strap won't budge so he pulls his jacket sleeve down an inch further to cover it and decides to risk leaving with it still on. Slipping out into the hallway proves much easier than anticipated with the stretch of tiled walkway gloriously people-free. He makes it all the way to the front doors before he feels a slight tug of disappointment that no one has noticed him leave. He thinks, for starters, that it's pretty poor security, and secondly, isn't he more important than this? Where are the bells and whistles? Red lights and alarm sirens? Then he gives himself a mental kick to the backside and reminds himself that this is exactly what he wanted. Anonymity and freedom.
Despite the late hour there are cabs pulled up outside the hospital in the rank, waiting for willing customers and he slowly lowers himself into the first one with only a fleeting grimace and grins, lopsided and a bit wide eyed, at the driver. He rattles off Meredith's address and settles back to enjoy his first view of the outside world in...god...how long has it been?
When the cab pulls up outside Meredith's house he knows challenge two is about to begin, and, more than likely, this is where the shit is going to hit the fan. He hands over a small wad of cash and winks at the driver, keep the change, before grabbing his backpack out and hauling it over his right shoulder. As the cab pulls away from the curb, leaving him exposed and alone on the sidewalk at the front of the house, he takes a moment to look up at the brick structure and note the lights on in a few of the rooms. Meredith's...probably means Derek's here...or Christina...even better. He's always thought there was something more to their friendship than just well...friendship. There are also lights on downstairs but the top left hand corner window is also lit and he wonders briefly if he's been gone longer than he thinks and the room has been rented to someone else, because it's his room.
Curious now, he wraps his hand around the front door knob and is relieved to find it open. He hadn't thought about needing a key. Would have ruined the surprise had he had to knock. Once inside, the house is eerily quiet and he pops his head into the television room where it is on but soundless, the red cross in the corner of the screen indicating someone has hit the mute button. There are clothes strewn all over the floor, jeans and shirts and a bra, no wait, he's pretty sure there's two bras and now the curiosity that peaked when was outside has suddenly morphed into something a whole lot more primal and raw. What the hell is going on?
The kitchen lights are off, so he bypasses that room and heads straight for the stairs. There's a pair of panties, about half way up, small and red, a mere scrap of lace.
"Jesus..." he whispers, intrigue bubbling through his veins, "...what the...?"
He can see now that it's not a light on in Meredith's room, but candles, dozens of them, maybe even one hundred of them, all of them lit and basking the room in an earthy glow. Lavender and strawberries and a hint of cinnamon. He grins to himself, can't even help it. Begins to think he should sneak home more often.
He dares a peek into the softly lit room, there is movement up against the far wall and it takes a second for his eyes to adjust, another second for the images to come into focus and then another second for his whole body to come alive. They're pressed so tightly together that he can't see where one starts and the other finishes and quite frankly he doesn't really care either. He can hear panting and every now and then a soft moan that he recognises instantly as Meredith. The harder, baby though, that's all Christina and as she tips her head back, black tresses reaching almost to her butt, Alex steps back into the shadows and out of view.
"Wow...what the freakin' hell...? Freakin' twilight zone..."
He's mumbling to himself and walking towards his own room, can't help but wonder...if that's going on in there...then what the hell's going on in here...?
Again the door is open, but there are no candles this time, just a cool glow from the lamp that sits on the floor beside his bed, he's never bothered to buy a stand for it, has always moved around too much for accumulating furniture. There is a body on his bed, laying face up but with one slender arm flung across her eyes, and he can tell it's a her from the white knickers and the matching bra that can barely contain the breasts that spill out from its intricate lace. The breasts are moving, heaving, up and down in rhythmic motion and he has to reign himself back in before he realises she's crying. It's Izzie and she's crying, on his bed.
"Izz...?"
The sobs increase and she twists one hand into the blue sheet under her back, as though she's holding on and doesn't want to let go. Alex wonders what the matter is and hopes it's not something he's done, wonders if she regularly uses his room to cry in.
"Izzie...are you...?"
She stops this time at the sound of his voice. Removes the hand and sits up, suddenly overjoyed. He's somewhat amazed at the remarkable transformation from sobbing to exultant, but is quickly distracted by the breasts...again...and finds it hard to be coherently amazed by anything anymore.
"Alex. Oh, Alex! You're back...you're...God...I've missed you so, so much..."
She launches off the bed, but instead of heading in his direction as he anticipates, she takes a step back and leans against the back wall of his room, slides one foot up so that her sole is pressed against the cream paint, her knee bent, raises her hands above her head, taking some of her hair with her, cocks her head to the side seductively, as if the rest wasn't seductive enough.
"Yeah, I...uh..." he really is having an unreasonable amount of difficulty thinking at this exact moment in time, lacking adequate blood flow to his brain cells he expects.
"Alex?"
He turns, suddenly, comically. Arms flailing slightly as the sound from behind startles him back into action.
"Ahhh..."
"Oh, hi, you're back." Meredith turns to Izzie and tilts her head to mirror Izzie's pose, naked as the day she was born. "Christina and I could hear you crying, we thought you might need some cheering up..."
Alex looks slowly from one to the other to the other, confused, astounded, and in the best possible way. Christina – naked, Meredith – naked, Izzie – practically naked and they're looking at each other, and looking at him and it's like all his hopes, all his fantasies, all his wildest dreams have come...
Unfortunately the rise to consciousness for Alex is not gradual, it is sudden and gut wrenching and utterly terrifying. For one thing there is a tube down his throat, well he assumes it's a tube because he hasn't actually opened his eyes yet so he can't be certain, and for another, consciousness brings with it a scorching agony that seems to have no specific source, just a pulsating mass of screaming nerve endings. Fortunately consciousness doesn't last long.
-
Earlier...
Alex stabilises as quickly and as suddenly as he crashes and Miranda wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. How dare he to this to them, how dare he? By the time she places the last stitch, she is as emotionally wrung out as she has ever been, one look over the table to Christina tells her that she is equally done in, and Callie...Callie appears to be barely standing, but there is a neat white cast on Alex's left wrist and a row of dark stitches across his belly and his heart is still beating so Miranda knows they have done the best job they could for him.
-
Derek is good at what he does, very good, quite possibly the best. Even he can't save this patient though. There's too much damage, he's done too much damage, to himself and to everyone else around him. Derek doesn't think he'll lose too much sleep over this one. He looks over at Meredith and she shrugs he shoulders, he doesn't think she will either.
-
Izzie realises she's stopped breathing under her surgical mask, is holding her breath and waiting for the screaming of the heart rate monitor to slow back down to a dull roar in her ears. She doesn't start again until Mark says her name, twice, and commands her attention.
"Izzie, Dr. Stevens...you with us?"
Everyone's looking at her expectantly and she nods her head then forgets to stop again, starts to chuckle, then to laugh hysterically, until she's not so much holding her breath as physically unable to breathe. She sets down the forceps she is clinging to and staggers her way into the scrub room, hastily scrubs out and slides, sobbing, to the cold floor.
-
Norman exits the empty gallery, there's a sign on the door indicating the gallery is closed, he knows this because he put it there before sliding into the raised viewing area himself. He can't tear his eyes away from the scene below him but, equally, he can't watch anymore so instead he takes himself to human resources to request Alex's next of kin details, he hopes the normalcy of the task will distract him from the absolute absurdity that the rest of his day has been.
-
Now...
Izzie has reached the stage of exhaustion where her head keeps listing forward towards her bent knees, before sudden awareness jerks her back to reluctant waking again. She knows she must look ridiculous, but she also knows that no one else in the room is looking at her anyway. Norman, sitting opposite her but higher up and, more sensibly, in a chair is reading the newspaper. She can't see him, but she knows this to be true because every now and then she can hear the paper rustle as he turns the page. The room's only other occupant is still ominously silent and even though she knows he's not unconscious anymore, merely sleeping, she still can't help staring intermittently at the heart monitor screen that towers over her, just to be sure. He woke briefly about an hour ago and the ventilator tube was hastily removed, a fact for what Izzie is especially grateful. It's been much easier to convince herself that he's just fine since that has been taken away.
"Dr. Stevens?"
She looks up to see that Norman has risen and rounded the bed, he is peering down at her, questioningly and she shifts slightly on the floor, her backside steadily growing numb, but she doesn't care.
"Yes?"
"Don't you think you should..."
She sighs and the sound seems to stop him mid-sentence, a fact for which she is surprisingly glad.
"I'm fine, really. You've been here just as long as I have..."
"Yes, I know, but..."
"But nothing, I'm not going anywhere. At least not until he wakes up properly."
"I've had practice at this, you know? Waiting for people to wake up, young people, people that shouldn't, well...you know..."
She nods slowly and with a sad smile, because she does know. She's done this before too.
-
Meredith's tequila shot remains, untouched, on the counter top in front of her. It's been that way, untouched, since Joe sat it there almost forty five minutes ago. Christina's is gone, the small vessel upside down on the bar mat in a triumph that she does not feel. It's late, even for a bar, and they are almost the only customers in it, Meredith can't decide if Joe is preparing to kick them out or preparing to sleep there, overnight, with them.
"He's...okay though...right? I mean, he'll be...?"
The usually articulate Joe is getting gradually more and more incoherent as the minutes since they broke the news to him tick by.
Christina can't bring herself to answer and is grateful when Meredith's shoulders move sluggishly upwards before settling back into their drooped stoop. A silent and pleading I don't know that has Joe rubbing his hands over his face.
"I asked for this you know?" Christina remarks, finally voicing the thoughts that have been eating away at her conscience all afternoon.
"What?"
"I asked for this, all of it, it's my fault. God, I was practically begging for something like this to happen. I mean, jeez Meredith, you heard me..." dejected guilt isn't an emotional state Christina has had much experience in and she has absolutely no idea what to do with it.
"It's not your..."
"Yes, it is. All morning I was practically begging for something like this to happen, God I was excited when the call came through about the car accident and the shooting...remember? You must remember, you were right there...I was...I'm such a..."
"Christina, you practically beg for things like this to happen every day we are at work, this is not your fault."
"But, it's karma or something, and it's Evil Spawn, I'm not even supposed to like him..." Joe baulks slightly at her words and Christina makes a mental note to remember that Joe and Alex are kinda like friends, "...but I do really, I guess, and..." anything further fails her.
-
"Are you okay?" Miranda's voice startles Callie out of the trance-like clock staring she is doing.
"It's tomorrow..."
"Pardon?"
"It's tomorrow, as in, not today anymore."
"Callie...are you..."
Callie's laugh starts low and deep in her gut and by the time it escapes her lips it has morphed into an exhausted sob that only adds to the crazy she is currently channeling.
"Callie?"
"George slept with Izzie. George slept with Izzie."
Miranda blinks because she has no idea what to say, there are no words for this.
"And I want to hate her, I do hate her and I hate him. But...I love him and she, with Alex, she was so good with him and I don't think any of us could have done that for him...what she did, and I want to hate her...but I don't, and it's tomorrow." She looks over at Miranda and smiles sadly, "All day I just kept saying tomorrow will be better, but now it's tomorrow and I think maybe everything is worse."
-
"Dr. Stevens?"
Izzie looks up at Norman again, he is back in his seat and all she can see is the very top of his greying head. She moves to get her feet underneath her and uses the window sill to pull herself to standing. Her right foot is completely numb and the sensation makes her feel physically ill.
"Dr. Stevens? I meant to ask you..."
Izzie tries to look interested in whatever Norman is about to say but pins and needles are eating her right calf muscle and she has to take a deep breath and zone him out completely to stop herself from vomiting all over the bed in front of her.
"...Admin. said they didn't have any next of kin details for Alex, does that sound right to you?"
"What?" Izzie is still distracted by the sensation in her leg and if she moves her toes the nausea increases ten fold, she wonders if this is what it's going to be like for Alex when he wakes up, she has taking to refusing to believe he'll never walk again, is actively not even entertaining the thought.
"Admin. They said there were no next of kin details for Alex...no contact details for his father, mother, siblings...nothing. I wanted to..."
"No."
"No? No what?"
"No. No next of kin."
"No next of kin?"
"No."
"No?"
Izzie sighs, "Norman."
He pushes the paper aside, sets it in a messy jumble at his feet.
"Dr. Stevens."
"Norman." Izzie smiles ridiculously and thinks this is quite probably the most absurd conversation she has ever been involved in.
"Everybody has..."
"Alex doesn't, okay?"
"He doesn't? So, his parents..."
"Are not people he would want to see here when he wakes up."
"Oh."
"Oh."
"Why is that?"
"Norman..."
"No, truly, Alex is going to need..."
"He won't need anything from them. He'll have me, and you...if you want, and he won't need anything from them."
"Okay." Norman pauses for a beat. "So they're alive then? He just doesn't..."
"I have no idea where they are and I know for a fact that Alex would want it to stay that way."
"So...did they..."
"Norman..."
Any further rebuke is cut off by the sudden shifting of fingers against the white hospital sheets that causes the snaking IV to shudder slightly.
"Alex?"
The fingers move again and Izzie curls her own into them reassuringly as Norman stands to shadow her from the opposite side of the bed.
Dark lashes crack open tentatively and Alex's lips part, "Izz?"
The sound is breathy and almost consumed by the machinery that still monitors Alex's every heartbeat and intake of breath, but to Izzie it is the only sound in the room.
"Yeah, Alex. I'm here, it's okay."
"Izz..." His eyes flutter closed again, pause that way for a beat, before opening again, wider this time and with a little more clarity.
"Shhh, it's okay."
"What..." Alex swallows harshly before continuing, "What happened?"
Izzie frowns and moves her gaze quickly from Alex to Norman and back again. The movement confuses Alex and his own eyes slide away from her quickly, to settle in a squint on Norman.
"Hello, Dr. Karev."
"What..."
His gaze shifts back to Izzie, confusion morphing into a wide eyed fear that taps out its beat via the heart monitor.
"Shhh, Alex. It's okay...shhhh." She lifts a hand and runs it over his forehead, risks a tentative smile, and hopes to God it will calm him down.
"What happened?"
"There was an accident remember? A car crashed into a diner, we think it probably hit you first."
Alex's eyes close as he exhales and Izzie would like to think that he's drifted back to sleep but she can see the tension in his face and isn't at all surprised when his eyes snap back open again.
"Kelsey?"
"She's fine Alex. She needed surgery to get some of the glass out, but she's going to be fine. Her mum is in with her."
Alex nods and smiles fleetingly. "Good."
"How are you feeling?"
The words terrify Izzie, even as she speaks them, because of what truths they may bring. Her heart thumps in the back of her throat, making it impossible to swallow.
" 'm okay..." he whispers, not meeting her gaze.
"Alex?"
He relents and turns his head slightly towards her
" 'm screwed aren't I?"
-
George pulls up suddenly, just two steps from Alex's open doorway. The blinds of his ICU cubicle are parted into horizontal slits that give George a distorted view of the scene inside. He can tell that Alex is awake, Izzie appears to be talking to him. Norman is blocking most of the action but George can see Izzie's fingers interlaced with Alex's, like they're both holding on for dear life. Norman takes a step back and turns around suddenly and George freezes in position, eyes locked on Norman's as he takes a step towards the doorway, appearing to leave.
Norman's abrupt departure give George an unimpeded view of Alex and Izzie and he can now see why the other doctor would be leaving. Izzie's other hand, the one not locked with Alex's, is on his forehead and comes away every so often to swipe at tears that creep their way down her cheeks.
"Maybe just give them a minute."
Norman's words startle him and he jumps visibly, manages to turn it into a somewhat vigorous nod of agreement.
"Yeah...yeah, I can see...I'll...uh...come back. I'll come back later."
George turns as he's speaking and begins his escape, for that is what this has suddenly become. He doesn't need to go in there anymore anyway. He knows everything he came to find out.
Everything is suddenly crystal clear.
He finds Callie in the ortho suite, exactly where he knew she would be, although at first he is tricked into thinking the room is empty. The lights are off it's not until he turns to leave again that he sees the flash of white skin, like a ghost in the corner.
He opens his mouth to speak her name but decides against it at the last second, moves in her direction instead and slides down the wall beside her, shoulder to shoulder, close but not quite touching. He can see that she has her wedding ring off and is passing it idly between her fingers, kneading it and twirling it around her fingertips. There are silver tears on her cheeks but she is totally silent, part of George wishes she would yell and scream and get it all out, because this...this silent caricature of his wife, it's not the real Callie and he knows he only has himself to blame for that.
"Callie?"
She doesn't answer, drops the ring instead and it pings tinnily as it hits the floor between her knees. George winces at the sound but doesn't speak again, reaches for her with his own hand instead and seeks out her fingers, finds them and latches on. Hopes to portray just a fraction of the love and support that Izzie's grip gives to Alex. Hopes the rest is filled with unspoken I'm sorry's because he knows, instinctively, that now is not the time for empty words.
He closes his eyes when her fingers tighten around his, a white knuckled grasp that gives him something he knows he doesn't deserve.
That gives him hope.
-
Alex presses his lips together tightly, determined, desperate, not to show Izzie even a glimpse of the terror that is threatening to consume him. He only has disjointed memories of earlier in the afternoon and he reluctantly accepts that this is probably something he should be grateful for. Izzie's fingers are still locked in his but her grip has grown lax and her head is on the mattress by his side, eyes closed. He uses her slumber as the space he needs to freak the hell out, alone. At some point in the hours prior to now he has been given some pretty hefty drugs, of that he is certain. He can see the pump on the shoulder of the bed that he is to use to administer his own morphine and can't help but think of that as very bad sign number one.
Very bad sign number two is sleeping beside him, granting him silent, momentary, reprieve.
Very bad sign number three is the white dressing that he found during his brief inspection of all the body parts he could actually reach without moving. It's across his abdomen and is kinda larger than he would like, he guesses that rules out laproscopic surgery or an appendectomy.
Very bad sign number four is fast on its way to becoming reason number one for putting a bullet through his brain. Very bad sign number four is the fact that the twin lumps at the end of the bed are the only reason he knows his legs are still attached, because, drugged oblivion aside, he can't feel a damn thing from the waist down and the only reason he hasn't thrown the blankets back and lurched out of bed to...to see, to check, to confirm, is because he needs to be alone when he does it.
Alone is how he gets through things like this. Like this. Alone.
He really needs to be a-freakin'-lone. Right now.
Ten minutes ago.
-
"How do they do it?"
"How does who do what?"
The surgeon's lounge is empty, which, considering the hour, isn't really all that surprising.
Mark sighs before reaching into the fridge for a bottle of water, pauses and grabs out another, tosses it lightly to Derek, standing in the doorway a few metres away.
"The interns, how do they suck you in like they do?"
"Oh, residents, you mean residents, they're residents now," Derek corrects.
"Interns, residents, whatever, doesn't really matter. They weasel their way in without you even really noticing it don't they?"
"You know, you are allowed to like them. There aren't any rules that say attendings have to hate the residents."
"I know, but...what's the point really? Of liking them? It just makes teaching them so much more difficult when you like them too but, then months pass and you realise that, shit, you do actually like them and you care what happens to them, and you haven't even noticed it happening. Don't even know it has happened. Then today happens and...everything's wrong."
"It's not wrong to care about what happens to them..."
"But, why? Why would I care? Why would I..."
"Mark, go home. Go to sleep. When you wake up in the morning, I promise you, you'll hate them again."
-
George's butt is killing him, his right cheek cramping in excruciating discomfort, but he doesn't dare move. Not a muscle, not an inch, for Callie is asleep on his shoulder. Soundly, deeply, enough to be snoring softly, and cramp aside, he finally realises that he would like to stay this way forever.
He is sober now, and so are his thoughts.
-
Izzie shifts in her sleep and Alex is torn between leaving her that way and waking her up. Risking her refusing to leave once she is awake. With the way she is he can't quite reach the morphine pump and he can tell that it won't be long before he's really going to need it, in all honesty, he probably needed it half an hour ago, but he can't help but cling to the pain as a lifeline.
He slams his teeth together as something, somewhere in his back, spasms painfully. He cries out, a strangled sob that he can't stop. He grinds the back of his head into the pillow and tries to shift into a new position, one that doesn't send white hod rods of agony from his back to the top of his head, from his shoulders to his broken wrist to the tips of his fingers. The second sob wakes Izzie with a sudden jump and the movement as she rises abruptly from the bed only exacerbates Alex's situation and, despite the fact that his jaw is deliberately clamped shut, causes him to groan from deep in the back of his throat, a sound that reminds Izzie so clearly of only hours before in the emergency department.
"Alex? Alex, what's wrong?"
His breathing is erratic and he can't talk, even if he wants to, he can't say a single word. Izzie pulls an oxygen mask from the head of the bed and presses it tightly over his nose and mouth, his eyes are squeezed shut and his head is filled with nothing but white pain and black fear.
Nothing but white and black.
"Alex, I need you to press the pump, okay? You'll feel better in a second, just press the button."
He groans again but makes no move to obey, despite the fact that Izzie has pressed the device into his palm.
"Alex, please just press it..." she fumbles for her pager and hastily sends a request to Dr. Shepherd. "Alex..." he still hasn't moved so she depresses the button for him, "Alex, I pressed it, okay? I pressed it for you, it'll be okay in a second and Dr. Shepherd's on his way."
She settles a hand on the side of his face, wipes away trickles of sweat before they can fully form while using her other hand to remove the morphine pump from his desperate grip and replace it with her own icy palm. Hopes and prays he doesn't notice the terrified tremor she has suddenly developed.
"Everything okay?"
The new voice startles her, she wasn't expecting it for a few more minutes yet and as she turns to meet his gaze her face must give away her confusion.
"I was on my way up anyway..." Derek offers by way of an explanation to Izzie's questioning stare, before moving to stand beside Alex.
"Alex? What's going on?"
Alex, pale and sweaty against the white pillow, doesn't speak. His eyes are glazed over and only open to half mast and Derek concludes correctly that the morphine has kicked in.
"I think he was cramping or something...his back...I was, uh...asleep, I think...I woke up and he was..."
Derek nods slowly, listening to her ramble, taking in her words without looking at her.
"Unfortunately, that's to be expected. We'll just have to keep an eye on his pain meds. I might write him up for a stronger muscle relaxant too but I don't want to do too much until the swelling goes down."
Alex gazes back at him dazedly and whispers out a slurred hey.
"Hey." Derek smiles back.
" 'mm screwed...yeah?"
His eyes drift shut with the yeah but pull open again a second later.
"Yeah?" he questions again, still terrified despite the drugs.
"No, Alex. You're not screwed, because we are going to do everything we can to fix this. Okay?" Despite the fact that Derek knows Alex will remember little of this in the morning, at the moment he is staring back at Derek desperately, like all his hopes are pinned to Derek's broad shoulders and Derek is disconcertingly compelled to reassure Alex, and maybe himself too. "There's just lots of swelling at the moment, okay? We've stabilised the fractures and there was no obvious cord damage, Alex...we just need to wait for the swelling to go down, okay?"
"Mmm, 'kay..."
Alex succumbs, finally giving in to the pull of oblivious relief.
"Derek?"
He turns in Izzie direction, finds her hovering at the end of the bed, fingers on her right hand worrying at her bottom lip.
"Do you mean that? What you just told him? Do you really think it's just the swelling?"
Derek pauses for a minute, knows he needs to be careful with what he says next.
"Yes, I've just had another look at the scans and I'm as sure as I can be at this stage that the paralysis is just being caused by the extensive swelling. But, you know as well as I do, it's really difficult to tell in these early stages, and he'll need physio and lots of rest and well, we really just have to wait."
She nods, has been nodding since he started speaking.
"Okay, we wait. I can do that...I can wait, and I can make him wait too."
EPILOGUE TO COME.
