AN: Sorry for the wait guys! And thanks for the support. :)
I am no doctor, and in no way a medical pro, but I based Nick's condition on some research I did. So if I got something wrong, don't kill me. :P
Realities.
The hall was brightly lit, a large fancy chandelier over the table and the many candles on it, providing enough light to illuminate the entire room. It was an elaborate 19th century dining hall, all dark wood flooring and walls with ornate heavy cupboards housing various lined against one wall, and a mahogany table, large enough to seat up to forty people situated right at the center.
Seated at the head of the table, was a man and on his right a woman, both appearing to be in their forties, elegantly dressed to accentuate their regal features and bearing, and both engrossed in enjoying the various delectable edibles adorning the table.
Their quite conversation and lilting laughter was interrupted by a knock on the magnificent doors, and the entry of a manservant.
"Master, the Eisbiber you wished to see is here." The manservant informed the duo, after a low bow.
"Honey, not at dinner at least." The lady lifted a very prominent chin haughtily in the butler's direction before turning to frown at the man.
"I'm sorry Carmella darling." The man gestured with his fork at the butler to proceed, before smiling at the lady beside him and covering her graceful hand placed on the table with one of his own. "This won't take a minute."
The woman did not stop frowning but she didn't voice any more objections, as several guards brought in a struggling chained man.
"Tell me…," he drawled lazily, picking at his food with his fork, "why I should let you live?" His accent was posh and heavy, and he did not even glancing at the figure that the guards had thrown down in front of the table.
The beaver wesen trembled violently, not daring to look up.
"No answer?" the man asked, smirking. "I was actually expecting a series of requests, some serious groveling and begging, but it seems your life isn't worth a lot to you."
"No, no… please." The man managed to squeak, lifting his head slightly. "Please I'll do anything you ask, have mercy, please…," he trailed off, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Good, that's what I like to hear." The man smiled, his face growing even harder with the gesture. The lady sitting beside him looked up from her meal, surprised.
"What? Really Dazin, he disturbs our meal and you're going to let him live?" the woman pouted.
"No need to get disappointed honey. We still have a lot more to go through." Dazin replied giving, reaching over to give her a kiss on her full lush lips. "I may even let you pick one or two that you don't like and kill them off."
Carmella smiled at him as he looked back at the sniveling wesen on the floor.
"John Oblimeir, you will be told what to do very soon." The man reached and rang the little bell at his elbow, "till then you can enjoy our hospitality."
The guards returned and picking up the man, started to lead him away.
"Take him to the dungeons." Dazin called, causing the wesen, who had quieted down some, to start struggling and crying again.
"Pathetic." The lady commented, apathetically, before raising her glass and sipping her wine. The man simply smirked.
"You mean he can't remember anything?"
Renard leaned forward in his chair and placed his elbows on the table. Doctor Blake sighed.
"No actually, he does know how to speak, so that suggests that he will remember how to perform everyday actions, like walking, talking, driving… but yes, he does not know who he is, who were his parents, or anything related to himself."
They were sitting in the doctor's office. The doctor's almost insanely brightly lit office. Renard could swear just sitting in the room was causing damage to his retinas. A whole wall of his office was made of glass, as if by allowing enough sunlight into his office, Charles could somehow drive out the shadows in his life.
Renard looked at the tired middle aged man sitting on the other side of the oak table, intently. "And what about Nick's physical condition?"
Charles stood up and walked to the window. "His heart rate is fine, blood pressure is normal. Physically speaking he's alright, except for the muscle atrophy which not moving from bed from five years have caused."
"But we used to move him right?" Renard asked, confused.
Charles turned around to face him. "Yes, but that wasn't enough to stop the muscles from wasting, that just prevented him from getting blood sores or an infection." He explained, coming to stand right besides Renard before sitting on the edge of the table near him. "Look, a physiotherapist will work with him, and with time he will be able to walk, and do everything normally again."
"But it won't be the same…" Renard's voice trailed off as his shoulders sagged.
"No, it won't be the Nick you remember, because even he can't remember who he himself used to be." Charles put a hand on Renard's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "But there is a chance that his memory would return, at least partially."
Renard looked up at the doctor hopefully and Charles smiled at him. "Look at it this way: it actually is a good thing right now that he can't remember what happened. From what I've heard, his girlfriend died in that blast right?" On Renard's nod he continued: "Then if he had any recollection of that incident he would have gotten consumed with guilt and instead of working towards physical recovery, Nick would have started regretting the fact that he survived. That would have led him more towards regression than progression."
Renard swallowed and dropped his hands to his laps. He hadn't thought of that.
The doctor did have a point. What Nick didn't remember couldn't possibly cause him any grief right?
God knew the last thing he needed was to bear the guilt of surviving an attack which killed his girlfriend.
"You'll need to be very careful around him, don't talk about his girlfriend or about how or he used to be before." Renard focused in again on the doctor speaking. "He would become frustrated if he couldn't remember what he himself had been like and that would severely hinder his recovery."
Renard nodded his assent; he would have to tell that to the other officers who would want to visit Nick. Though he doubted that was a long list, only Hank and Wu probably. Nick had been quote well liked, but over five years, he had diminished in everyone's memory.
Everyone's except from the memories of those who cared about him.
Those few people had banded together and formed their own team, drawing consolation and hope from each other, helping and supporting each other.
Renard had grown closer to both Hank and Wu in the last few years than he had been in all the time they had spent working for him. At first they were just his subordinates, but now… Now Renard could even call them friends without cringing.
Charles cleared his throat quietly, probably realizing that Renard wasn't listening to him anymore. Renard instantly devoted his entire attention to the doctor.
"I'm sorry, I zoned out for a minute," he apologized, "you were saying?"
"Yes, Nick has expressed a desire to go home. Have you talked to him?" Charles said, smiling understandingly.
"No I haven't talked to him yet. You guys were busy doing tests and all… he wants to go home?" Renard sat up. "But his home was completely destroyed in the blast. Nothing remains of it."
"And even if there was anything left, he would need support, someone to look after him constantly." Charles frowned slightly. "We are talking about a person who can't move a single muscle in his body, and who is suffering from major disorientation and amnesia. He would need all the help, encouragement, and even love that he could get. I would recommend that you talk him out of moving out of the hospital just yet."
Renard nodded, and stood up.
"I'd better go talk to Nick now." He paused and looked the doctor in the eye. "Thank you Charles… for everything."
Charles smiled brilliantly, a smile which made him look younger by years, causing all the hard lines of sorrow and worry to disappear from his face. "I'm glad that Nick made it out fine. The road ahead is not going to be easy Sean and if it had been anyone else in your stead, I would have been worried" But with you I'm perfectly satisfied that he is in more than capable hands."
Renard smiled in return, before turning and walking out of the room.
Charles watched him go with an unusually light heart, the smile still gracing his face. He had often wondered initially how Sean had known Nick. But then the older man's utter devotion to the latter had made things crystal clear to him despite no words ever being exchanged on the subject.
Love was indeed a marvelous thing.