A/N- So I am very excited about this one... not the writing style (cause I was lazy this time) BUT! I am excited about the new story. I just needed something different... This opens so many possibilities!

Thank you so much to 23jk and OMGitsEMILY for your reviews :)!

Okay, on with the story... (warning! Some adorable Mother son moments!)

Jim's POV
The first thing that I noticed was the smell, or lack of. Every morning, I would always wake up to the smell of a fragrant fire and the catch of the day. Here, wherever it was, had no comforting scents.

My hearing was still muffled, but I was able to make out a soft humming noise. From the inside of my eyelids, I could tell where I was, was bright. The first thing that came to mind was that I'd died, and was in a sterile like universe, where everything was plain.

My eyes fluttered open, greeted by blurry moving shapes hovering over me. Blinking, to focus my gaze, I tried to ask where I was. But my words came out in a mess of twisted syllables, and a hoarse voice that didn't seem mine.

As everything came into focus, I saw my mom's hopeful eyes locked on me. "Oh Jim! Oh God, Jim! Thank God!" She was sobbing uncontrollably. It took all of her strength to refrain from hugging my broken body.

Everything seemed clearer now, as well as the pain. I let out an involuntary moan. I swallowed, trying to conjure up words. My numb lips tingled, "Mom, wher'am I-" My words were lisped in a almost childlike form.

"You're in the hospital, you had a solar surfing accident. I should have never let you go... God Jim, they said you might not wake up." she ducked her head, wiping tears away, sniffling quietly.

I looked down, frowning. I wasn't supposed to deal with this. Everything would have been so perfect, I'd set everything up so it looked like an accident. Done. I never wake up, and deal with the tears. Fail.

"Mom," I sighed, lightly touching her shoulder. She turned towards me and grabbed my hand in hers. I hesitated. "I'm so sorry I put you through this, I didn't think it through. I'm so selfish..."

Her features were twisted between concern and confusion, "it's not your fault, things like this happen."

I shut my eyes, and turned away. Tensing up, 'how could I have done this?'

"Oh god, no..." she trailed off. I stifled back my cries, holding my breath to keep tears from flailing down my face. She just stared at me with utter dismay. "James," She started, "You- h-have so much! So much to live for," she tried to smile, but it disappeared. "I mean, look at the past year! How much you've accomplished! I don't under-"

"It was a year wasted! I'm useless, already damaged." she backed down slightly, but then took my cheek in her hand to face her.

"That- that was my proudest year..." her words rang truth. Tears pooled in my eyes, how ridiculous I'd been. How selfish, trying to leave my mom alone. I lurched forward, despite the pings of immense pain that chewed at my weak muscles. I finally let the tears rain, hugging my mom.

'Never again, will I doubt myself... What would Silver think? No, I'm no coward. I'm not my dad...' My mom finally released me, and looked up into my face.

"I've been so scared the last week," she finally admitted.

I looked up in surprise, my eyes wide with concern. "I've been out for a whole week?" she nodded in response. "Whose been taking care of the Inn?"

"B.E.N.'s been handling most of the work, Delbert and Amelia check in whenever they can."

"How's uh, Morph doing?" She smiled slightly at my question.

"Morph is a little distraught. The question is, how are you doing?"

"You know, I don't know. I thought I had nothing left. But, now I'm confused why I even ever thought that." I sighed helplessly.

"You got that from your father," she chuckled slightly. "He was never impressed with what he had." She turned to me with a serious expression, "But I'm glad to say that you are *not* your father. You are a much stronger man."

I smiled, my eyes watering once again. Her face contorted into a proud, yet tearful expression. This was one of those life changing mother son moments. I broke down and began talking to her, heart to heart.

"When-when I'm upset, I don't feel like myself. And every time I get over one of my fits, I promise myself I won't get like that again. But they keep happening. And they're getting worse..." She put her arms around my sore shoulders. "I've never even imagined it would go that far..."

She cleared her throat. "Jim, this may be something out of your control. It may be hard to understand now, but-" she paused for a moment, organizing her thoughts. "Maybe... Maybe it's time you know."

I shot her a quizzical glance. "What?" she just stared. I began to get nervous. "What?" I asked a little more forcefully.

She took in a deep breath, I flinched anxiously. "You have a-a brain lesion. It's in a sensitive part of your brain. It affects your feelings, and how you react-"

"How? How'd it get there? How long!" I cut off her rush of confessions with my bombardment of almost accusing questions.

She kept a unfazed disposition, and continued flatly. "When you were a baby. You were very very sick. You know that scar on the back of your head?" I instinctively reached up, rubbing the familiar line that ran through my hair. I nodded. "Well," she continued. "It didn't just happen by mistake."

"I thought, I had the cut the day I was born. And that-" I swallowed, "They just had to sew it up." she shook her head.

"Part of your brain was, well it was dying... You were dying because of it." She sniffled. "So to save you, we opted for a transplant. Only of that part of your brain." I was in complete shock. Listening intently. "As you can imagine, it was a risky, almost impossible surgery. And the only donor, his brain was healthy, but he'd had a terrible life." I began to slowly understand.

"You think, some part of him, is in me?" She nodded.

"The neurosurgeon said it was impossible, but being the religious person I am, well I believe he's affecting you..."

I shuttered at the thought of a dead man in some way, being inside of me, controlling me. I began to over flow with questions. 'Are some of my memories his? No no, that's a different part of the brain...' I suddenly let out a yelp as a sharp pain tugged at my neck, causing me to fall back into the white cottoned covers.

My mom protectively stroked my head. "I know, I know," she cooed. I continued to cringe until the pain finally began to subside.
She took in another breath. "Anyway, the lesion you have, it appears after your father left. Every even that affects that part of your brain," she motioned towards me, "It causes the lesion to get worse and worse."

I chewed at the inside of my cheek, "What do the doctors say is causing it?" She just sighed.

"They don't know..." I saw the pain behind her eyes.

"Well, am I-I dying?" I swallowed hard.

She smiled at me lovingly, "I wouldn't let that happen."