Hello again everyone!
I was thrilled at the response I got from the last couple of chapters - thank you so much for your support! I am glad you're enjoying the story so far. More than anything I received a lot of questions - what's going to happen? how can the Tracys have abandoned Alan? how can Alan have simply disappeared? how are the puzzle pieces going to be joined?
Unfortunately, I have no answers for you right now- instead this is going to be one of those VERY annoying stories that doesn't reveal all of the missing pieces until the very end! Rest assured all the loose ends and mysteries will be solved - you're just going have to read more to find out how!
Boann xx
Chapter 4
Something was on his face and he wanted it gone.
"No, champ," was the response he got to his attempt at dislodging it.
"John?" he rasped. His throat was drier than sandpaper. Something was blocking one of his nostrils and something was lodged at the back of his throat.
He moved his head, and whatever was causing the blockage moved. "Urgh!" he nearly gagged.
"Easy, tiger. It's just a tube to feed you," John said.
"What?" Alan tried to ask.
John removed the object off his face (which turned out to be an oxygen mask) and brought a straw to his lips. "Slowly," he said as Alan gratefully drank.
He pulled the straw away after a few seconds. "How do you feel?' he asked.
Alan was focused on something more important. "Where's Mary?"
"She's gone to get some coffee. She'll be back soon," John explained calmly.
Alan cringed as he swallowed. He fumbled with his right hand, which was now free of the sling, to push away the blanket at his waist. "It's hot," he told John.
"Take it easy," John soothed, pulling the blanket down to Alan's knees. "If you stress yourself, the fever might spike again."
Alan frowned. "Fever?"
"Yes," said John, sitting on the bed next to him. "The wounds on your arm became infected and your temperature spiked to nearly 105 degrees. We've spent the last week pumping you with antibiotics and trying to bring you round. I think Mary's grown a few grey hairs thanks to you."
Alan cringed and raised his hand to feel the feeding tube, which was taped across his face. John gently pulled his hand away. "No touching," he said. "We had to insert the tube to keep you nourished. Like me, it's annoying, but it's just doing its job."
The corners of Alan's mouth lifted of their own accord.
John feigned a look of shock. "Was that a smile?"
Alan couldn't help but bashfully let his smile grow.
John patted him on the thigh. "Don't worry, kiddo. Everything will be alright," he smiled.
They both looked up when Mary walked in with an ecstatic look on her face.
"Oh my God!" she cried, setting her coffee down on the table at the end of the bed and rushing over to him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders in the gentlest of hugs.
"You never stop fighting, do you?" she smiled, pulling away.
Alan offered her a smile, but it was a saddened one. Mary's hug had, rather than comforted him, made him realise that he couldn't remember being hugged by anyone. Do I have family? Why aren't they here? Are they dead?
He was brought back to Earth by John, who'd gotten up and was rolling down the blanket to inspect Alan's calves. Alan looked down and wrinkled his nose at the sight of the ugly cast covering his broken leg. His reaction made John chuckle.
The doctor grabbed Alan's toes, which were sticking out of the end of the cast, firmly. "Can you feel that?" he asked.
"Yeah," Alan replied, a little surprised.
John smiled. "No sign of nerve damage. That's good. I'll get one of the nurses to replace the cast now that you're awake."
He approached the side of the bed again, pulling his stethoscope off his neck and placing the silver disc under Alan's gown. "Take a breath as far as you can manage without it hurting," he instructed.
Alan to a small breath, surprised and relieved to find that it didn't hurt. He breathed deeper, but his overconfidence was rewarded by pain shooting through his chest. He grunted and stiffened.
"Hey, champ. What did I say about taking it easy?" John lightly reprimanded, replacing the instrument around his collar.
"How long will it take?" asked Alan glumly.
"Your broken bones will take a few more weeks to heal, if you get proper rest. When we start physiotherapy, we'll get a clearer picture of how the rest of your injuries are doing."
"When will I start physio?" Alan asked.
"I want to start work on that shoulder as soon as possible," John replied.
Alan looked up hopefully. "Like now?"
John chuckled. "We'll see how you're doing. It's no race to the finish line, champ."
"And we'll be here to help you," Mary assured, holding his right hand. "You don't need to worry about a thing."
John perched himself of the side of the bed again, looking at Alan thoughtfully. "I know it's difficult to deal with right now," he said gently. "But do you remember anything?"
Alan swallowed nervously.
Mary leaned towards him compassionately. "It's okay if you don't, sweetie."
Alan looked up at John, suspiciously. "Why do you ask?"
"During the worst of the fever, you were a bit delirious," John told him.
"What did I say?" Alan asked, nervously.
John shook his head. "Nothing coherent, except a name."
"What name?" Alan was almost on the verge of tears, longing for an identity.
Mary stroked his hand with one thumb. "You kept saying 'Alan'," she said. "Does that name sound familiar?"
Alan couldn't remember the name, but he could remember where he'd heard it. The voice who had spoken to him when he was sick had called him Alan. Is that my name? Or was I just delirious?
Sadly, he shook his head. "No," he honestly replied.
The two adults exchanged a disappointed glance. Alan, feeling responsible for their frustration, felt his eyes fill with tears. His shuddering breath must have alerted them to his distress.
"Sweetie, it's okay," Mary stroked his forehead.
"I'm sorry," Alan whimpered, a tear falling out of the corner of his eye.
John put a hand on his good shoulder. "Listen to me, champ. This is not your fault. Everything will come back in time. And in the meantime, you can count on us, okay?"
Alan sniffed and nodded. He winced when his head throbbed.
John's brown creased slightly. "Still got that headache?" he asked sympathetically.
Alan didn't want to nod again and didn't trust his voice.
John understood. "I'll go and get you something for that."
After John had left, Mary rubbed Alan's arm. "Hey," she murmured. "You know, until we find out what your real name is, maybe we should call you Alan."
Alan considered it. It seemed kind of wrong to assume the name if there was a possibility it was not his. But the alternative was far worse. He could not stand being nameless. It only reminded him of his lack of identity. "Okay," he murmured.
Mary smiled at him encouragingly.
John walked back in, holding a syringe.
Alan almost groaned. "Can't have a Tylenol?" he asked hopefully.
John laughed. "Not until your tube comes out. What do you have against needles anyway?"
Alan grimaced in reply as John injected the drug into the I.V. port. "When can the tube come out?"
"Well, if you're feeling up to it, I'll remove it tomorrow and we'll see how you go with some soup. Your stomach isn't used to solid food at the moment, so we're taking it slowly, sport" John said, making a note of Alan's chart.
"I'm sure Alan will be fine," Mary emphasised the name.
"Alan?" John raised his eyebrows and inclined his head. "It works," he concluded.
Mary and Alan shared a smile.
"Right then, Alan," John said. "Rest up. I'll be back this afternoon to assess you for physio."
Alan nodded, yawning as John left.
Mary chuckled. "Come on, you," she crooned affectionately. She pulled the rumpled blanket up to his waist. "I reckon we can squeeze in a nap before he comes back."
"Yes, mum," Alan groaned without thinking.
His smile fell when she stopped. The look she gave him was strange; a mixture of dread and hurt. Alan was about to apologise but she cut him off. "I'm going to go for walk. I'll be back later."
Before Alan could speak, she hurried out of the room.
OoOoO
A little while later, a new nurse came and gave Alan a sponge bath. By the time she'd finished and gone, Mary still hadn't come back. Alan spent the next few hours staring up at the ceiling, wondering what he had done wrong.
I obviously hurt her. Why did I have to be so stupid? I never asked if she had kids. What if she lost them in the earthquake?
Alan let the tears fall a few times. He couldn't help it. He felt ashamed and horrible. But worst of all, he felt lonely. If Mary and John gave up on him, he'd have nobody.
What if Mary tells John that I was horrible? What if he gets angry? What if-
"Alan?"
Alan lurched at the hand on his arm. John stood above him. The doctor frowned concernedly and put another hand gently on his waist. "Hey! It's okay. What's wrong?"
Alan swallowed, hoping his eyes weren't too red. He shook his head.
John's frown didn't smoothen. "I'm just going to raise the head of the bed a bit, alright? If you start feeling dizzy or nauseous just let me know."
Alan nodded as the head of the bed slowly bent forwards, sitting him up. The change in position sent the blood rushing from his head. He closed his eyes and sucked air in through his nose.
"You okay?" he heard John ask warily.
Alan nodded, keeping his eyes closed until the bed stopped moving. John stopped it at a forty-five degree angle.
The older man gently touched Alan's right shoulder. "Can you sit up by yourself?" he gently inquired.
Slowly, Alan managed to push himself upright. John's arms wrapped around him when he wobbled. "Whoa, kiddo! Take it slow."
Alan swallowed against the nausea attacking his stomach. His confidence was suddenly very low. I can't even sit up by myself. How am I going to do physio? How am I going to learn to walk again? How-
"Alan?"
He looked up to see John eyeing him warily. "That's the second time you've spaced out me, champ."
Alan looked down. "Sorry."
John nodded, looking a little unconvinced. Nevertheless he smiled. "Let's get started then, shall we? We're not diving head first into this just yet, but it will give me an idea of what needs to be done when you're a bit stronger. We're going to take it really slow, okay?"
He started to drill Alan in a range of exercises. He would have Alan squeeze stress balls, slowly lift his arm in different directions, and even challenged him to an arm wrestle. Naturally, John didn't try very hard. He encouraged Alan to push his arm over whilst he applied a small amount of resistance. It only lasted about fifteen minutes but after it was finished, Alan was exhausted and frustrated. He struggled with every task and when it was over, his morale had been completely shattered. He tried to hide his frustration from John.
Finally John ended the session and let Alan sink back against the raised bed head. "You did really well," he reassured kindly.
Alan was miserably quiet.
John pulled out his stethoscope and held the end to Alan's chest. "So do you want to tell me what's bothering you?" he asked cheerfully.
Oh God! Alan winced. If I tell him I hurt Mary, he'll be really upset! I don't want him to be angry with me! I don't want to be left alone!
John discarded the stethoscope and gripped his shoulders, looking into his eyes. "Alan, talk to me. You're trembling. What is it?"
Alan shook his head. "Nothing," he mumbled, feeling tears approaching.
John was still frowning. He grabbed his penlight and shone it in Alan's eyes. "Do you feel sick or are you finding it hard to concentrate?" he asked.
Alan did his best to avoid the light. "No," he lied.
John withdrew the light. "You've spaced out on me three times now. Something's wrong."
Alan's eyes welled up again and he shook his head, distrusting his own voice to reply without cracking.
John sat himself on the side of the bed with a calm sigh. "Alan, I want to help you," he said gently. "But I can't do that if I don't know what's wrong. The next couple of months are going to be very hard for you. Don't make them harder by shutting people out."
"It's my fault," Alan blurted.
"What is?" John questioned softly.
"I hurt Mary's feelings. I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say it. It just came out! I didn't even think-"
"Alan, calm down," John said sternly, silencing Alan's rambling. "Take a deep breath and start again."
Alan breathed as far as he could without experiencing discomfort. "I called Mary 'mum'," he said. "We were joking and I didn't even think. It just sort of came out and she looked really hurt. Then she said she had to go and she hasn't come back for hours. I'm really sorry!"
John nodded, then looked at Alan seriously. "Alan," he said. "This is not your fault. You're a good boy and I don't believe you would willingly hurt anyone."
"But I did!" Alan protested, tears running down his cheeks.
John held up a hand. "Understand this, Alan. Mary has been through a lot these past few years. It's only natural that what you said would affect her."
"Why?" Alan asked.
John cringed and sighed. "Two years ago, Mary and I lost a child."
"You're married?" Alan realised. "I'm sorry, I had no idea!"
John hushed him. "It's been really hard for both of us. Sam was only thirteen."
Alan couldn't believe it. "I'm so sorry."
John nodded solemnly. "You weren't to know. I'll go and find Mary. Everything will be okay."
"Can you tell her I'm sorry?" Alan asked.
"That's not necessary, but I will," John smiled kindly. "In the meantime, get some sleep." He grabbed a small button attached to a cable which was hanging off the wall. "If you need anything, just press this button."
Alan nodded.
Placing the button on the bed within Alan's reach, John raised his eyebrows. "You sure you're feeling okay?"
Alan thought miserably. "I could murder a cheeseburger."
John laughed. "Maybe later, champ."