I'll be Home for Christmas
Thanks to all who have started to read this fic and for the private messages I got. Reviews are what motivates me, so please, don't hesitate to leave one and let me know what you think. I'm certainly no match for pros here, my only ambition is to share my passion for writing about the guys.
Chapter 2
I could not move an inch. My body was forced in a non-movement routine, apart from the alternate traction and immobilization schedule they have programmed.
I couldn't feel my legs.
They put me on strong medication of MP, morphine, whatever, to prevent the swelling in my back. I could almost feel that bullet caressing my spine. I would try to visualize it and at night, I would concentrate all my thoughts on that small area in my back, imagining I could pull it out, through the same hole through which it forced its way into my body. I repeated that fight every night, over and over again.
And every day, I would try to put a little smile on my face, for you Blondie, because you seemed so helpless. I wanted to talk to you, but I had no strength for that anymore. Awake for just a few seconds, and I was diving again into a deep slumber.
When you were not there, each time I woke up, there was always someone else to gently wash my face, change the bandages, turn the bed at night, monitor my heart, my blood pressure and respiration, check the brace.
I could hear them discussing the spinal shock I had experienced. It sounded bad. I could hear the surgeon who operated on me talking to another one. They thought I was asleep, but, even trapped in my semi-coma, I could make out their voices. The little I heard was enough. No long-term prognosis. I did not care about the details they gave on my chances of walking again. I knew I would! I had to. No other choice.
I had made up my mind. And I would show them they were wrong.
In the meantime, God, it hurt so much! Bellamy's poison was like sweet honey compared to this. Apart from my lifeless legs and pelvis, the rest of my body seemed to have concentrated all the pain one man can bear in a whole lifetime. Only my mind seemed to be functioning almost normally, though at an accelerated rhythm. I thought of all the things I had not done yet, the missions we had to take care of, the painting job I wanted to finalize in my apartment, the polishing I wanted to grant my Torino. It was stupid, but I kinda hoped Blondie would take care of it. And of my little plant. It was the first one I had.
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I used to dream of Terry, of the way we made love, of the way our skins whispered to each other, of the sensation of divine pleasure she left me with at the end of our nights.
Then, pain was hitting back hard again and I would wish I had died on that road, in Hutch's arms, I could not bear the pain, the drugs, the faces all around, trying to smile. The catheters, the brace. The shame I felt at first at not being able to relieve myself alone, the tears I could not wipe from my face. God, forgive me, I had not spoken to you in a long time. I wanted to cope with all this, but at times, I felt the burden was too heavy on my shoulders.
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They all seemed so compassionate that at times it was getting on my nerves. The nurses were always full of sweet smiles. In the beginning I was trying to smile too but the pain was chewing me up inside and out. Sometimes I even had the feeling I could sense the itching in my toes, but I knew it was only a morbid illusion as I understood something was very wrong with my legs. Was it just the memory that I once had legs and I had actually been amputated?
Hutch was there all the time, or so it seemed. He kept quiet for hours, or spoke soft words of comfort, telling me I was gonna be okay, encouraging me to hang on. He held my hand, I tried to put a reassuring look on my face. I could see he was exhausted. Obviously he was not patrolling anymore, or very little. Dobey must have granted him time off. The Captain came for a couple of visits too, and Hug.
They all tried to hide from me the thing that had been clear to me from the moment I got shot; I may never walk again.
How could I have told them that they were all wrong, that some weird intuition forced me to fight that prognosis. I was too weak to start a conversation. All I could do was smile the best I could. Yet, I felt this was not enough. Not for Hutch anyway.
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The great thing at that moment was to have Mom around. She looked so fragile yet strong and determined to watch over me. When she spent a long while with me, she would refresh my face and arms with a soft wet towel, she would comb my hair, she would put a protective kiss on my forehead before leaving. I felt like a little boy again. I remembered the times she used to comfort me when I had hurt myself after a fall or during a fight with other kids back in New York. And it gradually brought back memories of Dad. When he was still alive, I remembered the proud sensation burning in my chest when I thought I had the greatest Dad in the world.
Somehow today I was almost glad he was not there to see me like this. Deprived of my strength, my ambition, my pride. Nothing but a cripple! No!! I refused that. Not a cripple. I swear to God, even if they have not uttered the cruel words, I would not let go. I refused to become what they feared for me. I made myself the most important promise of my life: I would walk again!
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One day, a new doctor I had never seen before came into my room. He was talking with his fellow surgeons from the Memorial, who had already operated on me. At that time, I had regained enough energy to put more than just a couple of words together and I made them understand I wanted the truth. Yeah, that's it! The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth. I've heard that so many times in tribunals. Now it was their turn to take the oath and take their responsibility.
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I had waited for the right moment when I knew Hutch would not be around and I told the nurse I needed to speak to the surgeons.
First they tried to put on a good show but I made it obvious I was not gonna give into some dumb lies. I sure must have convinced them that I could take it because they started to explain what they had done so far. Preventing infection. Reducing the swelling. Stabilizing breathing, blood pressure, heart rate. Forcing my organism to bed rest to allow the bones in my spine to heal properly and avoid dislocation. Immobilizing my neck to prevent unnecessary strain. They explained all about the spinal shock I had endured and the fact that it was too soon to tell whether I would regain any sensation ever.
I never told them I had the impression of feeling some faint itching at times. I wanted to keep this to myself and to see where it would lead me.
°.°.°.°.°.°.°.
That's when they started to talk about rehab'.
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/tbc/