The Edge: Of a Recovery
KANDAHAR, Afghanistan
Two loud shots ring out. Two groans sounds. Two bodies fall.
Sam's eyes pop open. As he gingerly pushes himself up, he remembers the body of his father underneath him, not moving.
"Dad? Dad!" He shouts softly.
He grabs ahold of his father's head, pulling the tactical helmet off his sweaty head. It lays heavily in Sam's lap, his face pale and still.
"Daddy?" Sam's stomach flips with worry. He strokes his father's hair before tapping his cheek frantically and calling over the com-links for immediate preparation at the hospital.
Within seconds, he finds two bullet wounds: one in his father's chest, the other in his abdomen. After carefully removing the Kevlar vest, he only finds the exit wound from the lower shot. The slug is still in his father's chest. Sam does his best to bandage the General's wounds, using both of their emergency field kits and gently replaces the vest. As he is about to lift his unconscious father over his shoulders, Jason's eyes begin to flutter open.
"Daddy!" Sam breathes in relief, nuzzling his father's grey face.
A wave of pain crashes over the elder as he attempts not to vomit, cursing quietly at his own stupidity. Sammy was right. He is in very much danger. He has been out of the field for too long, he has lost his lightning-fast reflexes, he has lost his ability to spot the glint of a sniper barrel; and because of all his 'un-fitness' he has put his beloved son in extreme danger, possibly causing him harm as well.
"Sammy are you hurt." Jason demands. His son does not respond, his blank eyes seemingly scanning for the shooter. He can tell Sam's medicine is wearing off but he needs to be certain he is not hurt. "Sam!" He shouts, grabbing his son's arm.
Sam freezes before frantically wrenching his arm out of his father's grip.
"I'm fine." He whines softly. "Come on, I have to get you out of here. You're bleeding too much, Daddy."
His young son attempts to pick him up to carry him back to the compound but he quickly refuses Sam's help, walking – gingerly – but still walking at a semi-brisk pace, back in the direction of his son's compound. Sam's arm wraps firmly around his back, trying to support the father that means so much to him. Jason is fading steadily in the height of the highest heat of the burning desert sun. Sam can hear his father laboring for every gasping breath.
Thirty minutes pass.
Sam stumbles. Gasps. Pain. Gritted teeth. Keep moving.
Six miles away.
'Hold on.'
Another hour.
Five and a half miles.
'Stay focused.'
Forty minutes.
Five miles.
'Keep walking.'
Jason's self-perseverant thoughts seem futile. Blood is soaking through his son's crude bandages. Breath catches in his throat, the sun is too bright. 'Which way is up? Where is the sky supposed to be? Where is the sky?!' His weak mind no longer able to distinguish the slight difference between the sea of endless grains of sand and the hazy, tan sky. Clouds were rare, at best. Blue sky, even rarer. At last, his body fails him, refuses to move. Still. There in the sand, he lay still. His chest aches. 'Heart hurts. It's over. Can't. Make – it. Can't. Move.' He thinks, his thoughts as blurred as the sickening, swirling mirage of the desert above him. 'Close your eyes. It's over. Sam! Sam. I hope he understands. Hope he – takes care of himself.'
Sam watches his father's eyes close in shock.
"Dad! Daddy! No! No! Stay with me!" He shouts, pressing his hands in his father's wounds. When the elder man's clear blue eyes fail to open, Sam's lip quivers uncontrollably. "Dad, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Daddy! I – I always loved you, Daddy. I'm sorry I never told you." He sobs feeling the weak, erratic beat in his neck, not knowing how much longer his father would make it but to Sam, he was already gone. His father – the only father he would have in the whole wide world – was gone…and Sam was the only one who could have saved him; but he couldn't. His father was dying because of him; dying right in front of him. Canada's army would no longer have their general because Sam couldn't save him.
This was one of the many occasions throughout Sam's life where he wished his cognitive function at that moment was higher than it had been, wished his medicine was in his system more and hadn't worn off or hadn't kicked in yet. These were the moments Sam knew he was absolutely helpless. If the unthinkable happened, he would be the only one to blame. He couldn't even begin to think of his life without his father; without his protection; without his hidden love Sam had learned to recognize. The simple inkling of the idea brings burning tears to the back of his retinas.
Gently, he lifts his unconscious father, staggering under the dead weight. As he places the General across his shoulders, a vicious, ripping pain tears through his lower abdomen, forcing him to cry out.
'Hernia.' Sam thinks once the pain has subsided a bit.
He had had one when he was fourteen years old from incorrectly lifting a ridiculously heavy air conditioner out of the window due to the fall weather. His doctor had pushed it back into place with a strict warning: learn how to lift heavy objects properly or don't lift them at all. Sam could have only wished the story ended there. In the process of tearing his thinned abdominal muscle, he had dropped the A.C. onto the newly paved driveway, creating chips and huge ruts in the asphalt as well as demolishing the unit. His father had been furious, roughly dragging him out of the house, dislocating his shoulder in the process. Jason had thrown his young son to the pavement, skin scrapped against asphalt, cutting his delicate natural protection. The older military man had then begun to beat Sam, screaming at him for ruining the just-finished driveway. He was beaten forever, it seemed to the teenager. Jason had only stopped when the teen's shouts of anger and pain had turned into nearly silent, choked whimpers. He left in a rage of fury, leaving Sam lying almost motionless in the driveway. Blood gushed from his broken nose, busted lip and cut face. Hot, salty tears dripped onto the pavement warm with his own blood. His father remained entirely unaware of his son's injury that caused him to drop the air conditioning unit and ruin the driveway in the first place.
Jason brooded all night, feeling awful for he had done to his son. He waited hours for the front door to open, signaling Sam was back in the house, back in his territory to negotiate with the young teenager. He did not want to approach him outside. Outside was Sam's territory. His son could easily get spooked and run, and therefore outrun him. Or, Sam might have gone to Matt's house to calm himself down – get some help and bandages for his cuts.
'Matthew's father is more than capable of popping his shoulder back into place and cleaning up a few scrapes.' Jason had thought, "knowing" his son's injuries.
The hours had continued to drag on and Sam still was not in the house, nor had he received any messages from Matt's father that he was with them. Jason was growing panicked but sheer exhaustion from sleepless nights overseas quickly overtook him, putting his mind at ease as he forgot about his son.
'Sam has spent nights on his own before.' He reminded himself as his brain was involuntarily turning off.
In the early grasps of dawn, Jason had awoken. He remembered the previous day's events and hurried to his son's room. Glancing rapidly around it he found no sign of Sam or his return: his bed was neatly made exactly how it had been the day before, no new clothes were found in his hamper. Jason was panicking. He frantically raced down the hall to the large window that exposed the driveway, front lawn of the estate and black wrought iron gate surrounding the property. To his horror, he made out the slumped figure of a body lying in the driveway. His stomach flipped as he raced out of the house.
"Sam! Sammy!" He screamed his son's name over and over, unable to reach his boy fast enough.
When he finally reached the figure, his heart wrenched in his chest. Sam's body was cold, his skin grey and clammy. Jason rolled his son onto his back barely resisting the urge to vomit at the sight of blood smeared across his sickly pale face, bits of asphalt and rock embedded in his cheek. If he had not known better, if he was not a trained soldier, he would have immediately concluded that his son was dead. However, he knew better and he was a highly trained soldier so his fingers raced for a pulse, finding a slow, weak beating in his son's neck. Sam's body had gone into shock hours ago in the chilly temperatures and significant blood loss, not to mention the severe pain that erupted across his body each time he contracted even a single muscle.
Jason stared at him, silent tears rolled down his face as he stroked Sam's thick hair, blood of his own clotted in his locks. His son had spent the entire night outside on the driveway, his baby was unconscious. Yet the worst thought of all was that he, alone, was responsible for doing all of this to Sammy.
Sam had woken up eighteen hours later in the hospital; in the base hospital, where Jason did not have to tell the doctor anything and he did not ask anything of him in return. He liked it that way, he liked that his son could receive the necessary treatments no questions asked. Plus, although Sam's 'regular doctor' most certainly knew how his young patient acquired his many broken bones, cuts and contusions, no information, speculation or any other type of gossip would ever be spread about the boy's state after one of his father's drunken (or simply angry) rages because no one, save the doctor and Jason, knew Sam was even at the hospital in the first place.
He doesn't remember much after he had awoken, as odd as that may sound. Sam remembered being scared, very scared of his father. He also remembered he had attempted to run away from home for fear of being beaten to that degree again with his inevitable next mistake. Jason had been very hurt that his only son had tried to escape the family due to the ceaseless torture he was also unaware of executed by none other than his wife and the beatings he gave out like candy on Halloween (that is if he were ever to participate in the holiday).
Needless to say, Sam's memories of his first hernia were not pleasant ones yet here he is again, nearly doubled-over in pain from straining it too much again by trying to carry his injured father to the nearest hospital.
'At least this time, Daddy won't beat me senseless.' Sam thinks bitterly. 'He'll be too injured to walk for the next few days; that is, if he's still alive.'
While reliving parts of his dark teenage years, he has covered another three and a half miles mindlessly. The final stretch, that last mile and a half, Sam begins to jog. His back hurts like hell, his stomach doesn't feel much better but his dad…his dad was just barely hanging on and Sam couldn't live without his dad.
Two hours later, he burst through the door of the compound's hospital. His father is miraculously still alive. The doctors and nurses on duty have been prepared for Jason's injuries. They quickly rush him back to the OR. Sam breaths for the first time in a little over six hours, and then collapses unconscious to the floor.
A group of nurses spot Sam as he falls motionless on the floor. After a quick once-over, they spot his bulging hernia and the bloody, untreated bullet wound in the small of his back, directly next to his spinal cord, praying the small explosion of the bullet entering his body did not nick the vital nerve.
Seven hours later, Jason emerges stable from surgery, not due to awake for another four hours. Eleven hours after their initial arrival, Sam is wheeled out of the operating room unconscious and unstable, but alive. As he is placed on his ICU bed, a clean ventilator is eased down his throat, blood and fluids drip quickly into his arm and hands.
Matt is torn between his "brother" in Post-Op ICU and his "father" in the CCU, so he spends an hour with one and then sees the other for an hour, neither one having awoken yet. He continues for hours until a nurse gently takes him back to his room in a wheelchair after finding him fast asleep in a chair next to his brother's bedside.
Early the next morning, Matthew fights his way to Sam's room, pleased to see his brother is waking up and his ventilator had been removed, an oxygen mask covering his face in its place. Sam's blue eyes open painfully slow as Matt waits in anxious anticipation. He gives a weak cough and turns his face to see who is squeezing the life out of his hand (although he expects it be his brother). Matt's dark brown eyes shimmer in delight, his wide smile glistening throughout his entire face. Their eyes lock, deep brown on drained blue. Suddenly, Matt can't wait any longer. He gently grabs ahold of Sam's face and plants kisses all over his brother's forehead and cheeks, pulling the O2 mask down, their lips press against the others. It all ended too soon for Sam.
"I love you. I love you so much." Matt breathes. "I thought I was going to lose you, Sammy." Held back tears drip down his face as he strokes his brother's hair. A sad smile spreads across his lips when he witnesses how much pain Sam is in. "It's going to be okay, Sammy. Everything's going to be okay." He promises, whispering in his ear as he gently hugs his best friend.
Sam weakly returns the embrace, wishing he could squeeze the life out of Matt to let him know how much he missed him, how much he thought he wasn't going to make it, how much he knew he would hurt him if he didn't keep going, didn't keep fighting.
The two brothers make small talk, neither really wanting to talk about what happened; what could have happened. In the middle of a short silence, Sam suddenly opens his mouth.
"Where's Dad? Is he alright?" He pauses and before Matt can even answer, he starts crying. "Mattie, what happened to Daddy? I couldn't save him! I couldn't, Matt. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" He sobs.
"Sammy, Sammy! He's fine. You're Dad's fine, Sammy. He's gonna be alright, buddy. Probably a little sore but he's gonna be just fine. You saved him, Sam." He gives his distraught friend a comforting smile and his hand a gentle squeeze.
"I have to see him."
Matthew nods, understandingly. "I'll ask the nurse if we can borrow a wheelchair."
Sam waits patiently in bed, glancing around, he never realized how poor this hospital's quality is compared to the many high-rise hospitals he has been too. 'I guess this hospital isn't exactly meant for comfort. More like the 'we'll try to keep you alive' mentality instead of 'let's make you as comfortable and happy as possible'. Here, Sam is just another body taking up bed. He is treated a little bit better than the other soldiers only because his father's position, not that he hasn't had a few doctors rough him up pretty badly before fixing him up due to a few incidents.
Matt returns and helps his best friend into the chair. Sam grimaces when his brother accidently brushes against his back when helping him sit. He is quickly learning to not use his abdominal muscles because of the mesh in his abdomen that his body is getting used to. Matt lays a warm blanket across his lap and carefully wheels his brother to his father's room.
General Braddock lays motionless in the bed. His floppy blonde hair droops over his forehead, his crystal blue eyes closed to the world. Jason has not woken since he had lost consciousness in the desert. Matt parks Sam next to his father's bedside and takes a seat in a chair a few feet away from his brother. Sam glances rather helplessly at his dad.
'I'm going to get in so much trouble. I'll be lucky if I receive a dishonorable discharge; letting my dad get shot like that. How could I have been so stupid to not insist he return here? I hope Daddy doesn't beat me for this. It would be right of him if he did though. I practically let him be killed.' Sam thinks guilt dripping in his self-incriminating thoughts.
Matt sees the upset-pensive look pass across his friends face and he gently squeezes Sam's leg.
"Your dad's gonna be okay, Sammy." He nods encouragingly, a small smile warming his face. "Hey, did the nurses give you your medicine this morning?"
Silence.
"I'll have to ask them if they did or not." Matt murmurs quietly to himself.
"Daddy." Sam whispers hopefully as his father's eyes begin to open.
Jason emits a few grunts as he blinks several times to put the world in focus. "Sam." He states hoarsely.
His son stares blankly at him as he begins coughing, grimacing from the shooting pains in his chest. Sam's face remains unchanged so Matt hops up to fetch a glass of water for Jason. The General nods his thanks as the cool water soothes his throat made irritated by the oxygen pumped into his body all night.
"Oh, Sammy I love you. I love you so much, Pooh Bear." Jason whispers, weakly grabbing his son's hand.
"I love you too, Daddy." He whimpers in a child-like voice, some of his words slurring together.
The General turns to Matt and asks a few questions about Sam's condition, if he had taken his medicine, was he alright, and so on. He struggles to sit up so he can have a more direct view of his young son. After a few moments of watching his twenty-one year old, he decides that Sam has not had his medicine this morning and sends Matt out to fetch a nurse. Once the nurse injects the medication into his arm, Sam perks right up, acting like a typical mature young adult and his cognitive ability steadily returning. Jason squeezes his son's forearm, smiling as he sees his boy's return to the world.
"Are you in pain, Daddy?" Sam asks quietly, his eyes searching his father's face.
Jason gives a small lopsided smile and shakes his head 'no' as he answers, "No, nothing I can't manage, Pooh Bear."
It was that moment when he took his first real look at his son's body. A hospital gown donned Sam's body, a warm blanket was placed across his lap as he sat in the seat next to his bed…wait! 'There were only two chairs in this room.' The General thinks. 'If Matt's in one and there's an empty one over there…what's Sammy in?' His breath catches in his throat as he looks down and finds large silver wheels on his son's "chair."
"Oh God. Oh God no, Sammy! No! Baby what happened?! Why are you in a wheel chair?" He whispers horrified.
Sam lowers his gaze, not wanting to see the pain in his father's eyes. "I was shot…in the back, while I was helping you walk." He mumbles.
Tears burn at the backs of Jason's eyes as he grabs his son's hand, holding it to his chest even though he knows how much Sam dislikes being touched.
"Oh Sammy, oh Sammy, my brave little Sammy." He continues to repeat, tears rolling freely down his cheeks as he nuzzles Sam's hand. "I'm so sorry, Pooh Bear. I never wanted you to get hurt. I never wanted to hurt you! I should have listened to you Sammy, I should have come back and then you would have been safe!" He sobs.
He begins to compose himself a few minutes later, sucking for air and his chest on fire, he did not have much of a choice. Jason looks Sam straight in the eyes, another item on the list of the many things the young adult did not like to have done to him.
"Sammy? Are you hurt anywhere else?"
Sam once again drops his eyes and does not speak. Jason shifts his gaze to Matt, his question still hanging in the air waiting to be answered.
"He has a hernia." Matthew states softly.
Jason sighs heavily, knowing exactly how his son obtained such an injury.
"But this time they fixed it. I guess it was 'cause they were already in him, might as well hit two birds with one stone."
The General gives his second 'son' a questioning look saying, 'Will my baby be okay?' with his eyes. Matt gives a gentle nod.
"You're going to be okay, Pooh Bear. You're going to be just fine." Jason soothes.
The trio sits in a peaceful silence for a few moments before Matt stands and stretches from the stiff confines of the chair.
"Well, I guess I'd better take you back to your room for some much-needed rest, Sammy. The same for you, Sir." He gives a tight nod to The General and makes sure his best friend is properly in the chair. Before his son and his son's best friend leaves for all of their rest, Jason leans forward.
"Give Daddy a kiss Sammy?" He asks hopefully.
Sam's drained shell leans forward a bit to plant a soft kiss on his father's cheek as Jason does the same to his son.
"I love you, Pooh Bear." He calls weakly as he and Matt leave the room giving a wave goodbye.
Braddock senior lays his head back on his pillow thoroughly exhausted. He is thrilled that Sam will be alright and that Matthew is well enough to help him but he's beyond guilty for putting his baby through hell like this. He knows that Matt will be settling Sammy back into bed about now, probably tucking the blankets around him and singing him a lullaby until he falls asleep. Jason finds himself drifting off as a question he asks himself every night pounds against his skull: How on God's green earth did his son get like this? He knew the answer the second he contemplated the question. He knew every gruesome little detail of his son's tragic child- and teenage-hood that made him who he is today. What made him feel so much worse, so guilty, was that he had waited too long. He had waited too long – he hadn't recognized what was happening to his son and did not get help for him soon enough. The damage was done; Sam had been permanently altered in every aspect of his being beyond repair. Not that Jason loved his son any less because of it, in fact, he loved him so much more now that he was actually able to spend time with his son and bond with him and yet it hurt so badly to look back on his Pooh Bear's slowly deteriorating mental and physical condition even though he loved him too much to see the damage. Jason's thoughts shift to the fateful days that began this journey.
-*- Friday: February 19th {3 Days After Sam's 16th Birthday}-*-
General Jason Braddock walks through the front door of his estate placing his black suitcase on the foyer floor. His only son comes bounding forward to offer a loving embrace and he tugs Sammy into his chest breathing in the scent of tropical mango shampoo in his son's thick blonde hair. Sam, with a huge, goofy lopsided grin, begins rummaging through his father's suitcase excitedly searching for something. Jason glances up questioningly at his wife.
"What is he doing?" He asks, but his counterpart is a loss of words.
"C'mon Dad, where'd you put them? You know I'm gonna find 'em." Sam states, his excitement barely contained.
Jason allows this to continue for a little while longer as he removes his jacket and pulls his shoes off of his tired feet before turning to his son.
"Samuel, enough with this nonsense! What are you doing?!" He nearly shouts, his nerves frayed from the past two months overseas and he expected to be treated better than this by his family.
Sam's head pops up giving his father a confused look as he hears the anger in The General's voice.
"My keys, Dad." He continues when his father seems perplexed. "To the car you bought me for my sixteenth birthday…" He states hoping to jog his memory. "So, where'd you put them?" Sam asks, trying to sound enthusiastic but his heart is beginning to sink into his stomach and a lump is quickly forming in his throat.
Jason's face pales as he remembers the promise he had made to his son so long ago but he quickly hides his growing panic.
"Samuel, don't be ridiculous. You're not getting a car." He states coldly.
His sixteen year old's face drops, tears threatening to burst forth.
"What?" A steely knife stabs through Jason's sore heart as he watches his son's raw pain and disappoint. "But – but you've promised to buy me a car for my sixteenth birthday ever since I was two." He whimpers.
Jason manages to quickly steel himself against his son's anguished face and tries to find words, an explanation for why he failed, again.
"You bastard! YOU FUCKING BASTARD!" Sam screams angrily as tears roll freely down his cheeks. "How could you do that to me?! Haven't you done enough already?!"
The General is shocked at his son's outburst of hurt and wants to cry himself for another round of endless pain he has caused his boy. His wife decides she is going let Sam have it, not that she doesn't do that anyway whenever Jason is gone.
"You will not speak to your father in that way!" She yells as Sam continues to scream expletives.
"You've taken every damn thing away from me! Why can't you ever just keep your freaking promises?! I hate you! I HATE YOU!"
Jason stands in a silent trance wondering how one person could screw a child up so badly when Sam rushes towards him, fists swinging. The General easily catches his son's hits but not before Sam lands a few good ones. This only spikes Jason's fury as he grabs his son's neck in the crook of his elbow and viciously throws him down to the ground, hearing the crunch of bone as Sam screams.
"Why are you doing this to me, Dad?! Why do you hate me so much? Why didn't you make Mom get an abortion as soon you knew she was pregnant? You could've prevented all of this! I didn't choose to be born! It's not my fault, Daddy! If I could have chosen not to be born, I would have! I'm sorry! I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you hate me so much! Please stop hurting me! Everyone just please stop hurting me! I'm sorry! I'm sorry." Sam whimpers, his tears spilling onto the foyer floor as Jason continues to beat the crap out of him.
The General can see his son is gasping for air as he begins to shake, his body twitching.
"Samuel. Stop that. Stop Sam." He orders, worry building rapidly inside as the twitching turns into jerks and then full-on convulsions as his teenage son's eyes roll backwards in his head.
Sam's breath catches in his throat and he's left unconscious, gasping for air as the seizure quickly winds down to involuntary muscle twitching on the foyer floor. Jason crouches down next to his son, feeling for his pulse and stroking his sweaty blonde hair. He gently scoops Samuel up into his arms, carrying him to his bedroom and lays him in the twin sized bed, tugging the covers over his son. He plants a soft kiss on Sam's forehead before leaving him to sleep. The General's hands are shaking as he pulls his son's door closed. He takes a deep breath to settle his nerves.
'How the hell did that happen? Why did I get so mad at him? I was the one that forgot his birthday and his car. How could he have had a seizure?' Jason wonders. 'Sam has never had a seizure before! And his leg…I should probably check on that later, it didn't sound like it broke. Maybe it's just fractured.' He prays. 'I'll take him to see Duke tomorrow if it looks bad.' He promises before heading off to bed himself.
"This night is all backwards." The General murmurs as he crawls into bed. "They should've been happy to see me, Sam should've found his keys, I should have bought him a car. Hell, I didn't even tell the kid 'Happy Birthday.' When did he get so old? Last time I checked he was eight and now he's sixteen? Whew, time sure does go by fast when you're not there watching them grow up." He mumbles, clutching a pillow to his chest to stifle the tears of worry for his son as he drifts asleep.
The next morning, Jason wakes at 0312: earlier than usual but sleeping simply was not an option. He tiptoed to Sam's room and easing his son's door open, he finds him sleeping peacefully as anyone at 3 am should be. He exits quietly, not wanting to wake him.
'Perhaps I can buy him a car now and give it to him saying that last night I was just playing a joke on him.' He thinks. 'No, he won't buy that. I'm not the type of person that kids around and he knows that; it's probably a little too early to go to a dealership anyway. I doubt there open. But maybe, I could give him one of my cars as a starter until he picks out whatever car he wants when he's eighteen.' Jason plays with this idea until he hears a loud thud and something fragile breaking upstairs.
In sheer panic, he runs to Sam's room flicking on the overhead light. Much to his horror, he finds his only son convulsing on the floor and his nightstand lamp on the ground in shattered pieces around him.
"Sammy! Samuel!" He shouts, willing himself to move and help his son.
His body finally listens to its command and hurries over to the teenaged boy, gently dragging him out of the broken glass and porcelain to the middle of his wooden floor as his seizure shows no signs of slowing down. Jason's stomach flips and his heart sinks to his toes while he watches the cruel, short-circuited electric pulses surging through his son's body creating such violent convulsions of jerks and twitches all while rendering him unconscious.
Jason knew how seizures worked, one of his buddies in Iraq had had them: not like this though. His friend had absent seizures meaning he zoned out for a little while and 'came to' confused most of the time. Most of the guys thought he was stupid since he didn't always know what they were doing. He got fed up one day and blew his top, told them he had epilepsy and to stop messing with him because he couldn't control it (and at that time, medicine wasn't quite as advanced so he wasn't on any) and to help him out instead of tearing him apart because of it. Jason remembered that he had been more upset than angry. His unit understood after that and tried to keep him filled in and make sure he was with them mentally. Sadly, the day he had told their unit about his condition was the day he lost his life because of it. Some cocky-ass son of bitch hadn't believed him and thought he was making the whole thing up because he didn't want to admit that he was just stupid. They were out in a group patrol and Jason's friend was placed in the back as they were walking through a more dangerous area. His friend had a seizure, froze and was shot in the head by insurgents. It put everyone in their places, they all knew how serious seizures could be now and they were not to be taken lightly. It was just a shame that such a good man had to lose his life to prove it.
The General's heart races as relives those terrible days. If he had been in that group, he would have never let them put his buddy in the back without any protection in case something happened. His friend might have still had his life at the end of the day if he had been there. Jason shakes his head in attempts to clear his thoughts and focus on his boy. Sam was still jerking, his muscles rigid, his breaths in short gasps but it seemed it might be coming to a draw. Suddenly, he ceases to move. Everything goes still and limp. His breathing returns to normal and his eyelids slid shut over his rolled back eyes. Jason strokes Sam's damp hair and checks for any additional injuries. His leg is not broken, thankfully, but he needs to have it set and cast nonetheless. Finding only small scrapes and cuts from the glass shards, he kisses Sam's cheeks and instructs his butler to call Duke immediately. Jason does not know if he should move his son or not, so he lets him "sleep" on the floor, sliding a pillow under his head and tucking a blanket around his shivering body; he murmurs soothing words to his unconscious son until Duke arrives with his First Aid Kit and medical bag, quickly finding Jason and his son in the son's bedroom.
Duke works his magic, checking his pulse, oxygen, blood-pressure levels as well as his eyes.
"So you think he fell out of bed, knocking the lamp over?" Duke asks and Jason nods. "Well, no sign of concussion. His levels are good but he's still not responsive. How long has he been out?"
"I don't know. I came running when I heard the thud but he was already unconscious. I don't know how long he had the seizure before he fell out of bed." Jason admits.
Duke nods, once again tapping the teen's cheeks, hoping for a response but getting none. "And this is the second time he's had what you call a seizure?"
"Yes. He had one last night as well but it stopped so much quicker. It couldn't have been more than five minutes."
"Alright and can you describe what his body is doing when he's having a 'seizure'?" He asks putting quotation marks in the air as he says the word 'seizure.'
"Duke! C'mon man! I know what a seizure looks like. He was jerking and twitching on the floor unconscious and gasping in these short little gasping breaths. He was having a seizure, Duke."
"Are you sure he was unconscious, Jason?"
"Yes I'm sure! His eyes were rolled back in his head!"
"Okay, okay buddy. It does sound like Sam was having a seizure and therefore we need to get him to a hospital now, whether it's the base or not. NOW, Jason. If you're describing everything correctly then your son's has been having a very serious, life-threatening type of seizure and we need to make sure he's stable as well as get him on some meds. Okay?"
The General nods and helps Duke place his son on a stretcher in case there was any spinal cord or vertebra damage when he fell before they race off, Duke in his military van and Jason following closely behind in his Cadillac Escalade. Although he never wanted to leave Sam alone, he trusted Duke with his own life and knew his friend would take care of his son until they reached the base hospital.
Two and a half hours later, Jason sits in a surprisingly comfortable office chair next to his silent son's hospital bed. The base is rather quiet. Not much activity goes on during Saturday morning in the hospital. There are a few other patients in other wings but Sam's hall is empty. His room has been kept as comforting, bedroom-like and updated as possible since Sam was five years old with rare complications after his tetanus shot. Jason had been twenty-four years old at the time struggling with a group of angry mobsters seemingly hired to kill him by his own abusive father all while his young son had been ill for months with continuous vomiting, high fever, general flu-like symptoms and an allergic reaction – all rare and dangerous side effects of a tetanus immunization. Jason had been a nervous wreck the entire time, the only reason he didn't lose it completely was solely because of Duke. During that time, Jason became the General, escaping his cruel father for the time being and reserving that particular room in the base hospital for his son. It was a spacious room and Jason had allowed his young son to pick out paint colours, posters, furniture and other things to make the room feel more bedroom-like. He had made sure Sam's room was kept updated even though he spent less time in the hospital.
Posters of cars and Sam's favourite bands hang on the walls. Jason had painted three of them a soft, warm grey and the forth wall across from his son's bed a bright teal blue to help keep his son's spirits up. General Braddock runs his hands over his face wondering when his little boy was going to wake. Duke had given him a sedative when they arrived so he wouldn't wake during the MRI he wanted to take of Sam's back but now Jason just wants his baby to wake up.
Four Days Later:
Sam's dull blue eyes slowly flutter open only to roll backwards in his head as his brain sends his body into another fit of convulsions. This time, the seizure ends quickly but not before Jason bursts into a heart-wrenching tears. Duke glances sympathetically at his friend in the corner as grieving tears stream down his face, the silent choked sobs filling the charged air. The doctor strokes his patient's hair, murmuring gentle words to Sam. CC, one of Jason and Duke's buddies they had met while in Iraq together, pops his head in the door. Before he can speak, Duke knows who is at the door.
"CC, print out these graphs for me and bring 'em back here. Thanks buddy." Duke orders.
"Sure thing, Duke. Hey, Jase. How's your kid?" CC asks, genuinely concerned for Jason's mental state.
Jason glances up at his friend. Tear-stained cheeks and desperate eyes tell CC all he needs to know. He bites his lip.
"I'm sorry, man. Look, Duke's the best. We all can testify to that. He'll make sure Sammy's alright, Jase. I know he will." He gives a warm smile and hugs his troubled friend.
Jason weakly hugs CC back before he trots off to get a print of the readings from the electrodes Duke has attached to Sam's head to read what is happening in his brain during one of his seizures. Surprisingly, Sam comes back around quickly. He stares at his father's distraught face.
"Daddy? Why are you upset? What did I do this time?" He asks defeated.
Jason roughly wipes the tears from his eyes and gently hugs his son, squeezing him tightly.
"I love you. I love you so much, Sammy. Please forgive me for hurting you. All I ever do is hurt you and I don't mean to! I love you more than anything in the world! But, I screw up sometimes, Sammy. Okay, fine, a lot. And I'm never man-enough to admit it. You have way more guts that I do, sweetheart. I mean that, too. You're so brave, Sam; so courageous and I can't even begin to tell you how much I love you, or how sorry I am for everything I've done." His father states shakily, tears rolling down both their faces.
"I love you, too, Daddy!" Sam cries into Jason's chest.
Duke smiles and steps closer to the door to give the father and son some privacy. CC returns quietly to give his friend the readings, a sad 'You're not going to like this' look on his face. The pair eventually stop embracing and Duke takes this time to interrupt.
He clears his throat and attracts both young men's attention. "I have the results from the electrodes I attached to your head, Sam."
"The whaty-whats?" Sam asks, a bewildered look plastered on his face as he reaches up to touch his head, noticing about fifteen different wires stuck to him. "Oh, hey, that's kinda cool! I must be super smart, Dad. You guys want to try to measure my true intelligence even though it cannot be captured in all its greatness." The sixteen year old cracks a lopsided grin trying to make light of the situation, having absolutely no idea why he's in his hospital room.
Jason laughs at his son's attempted joke while Duke chuckles at the eerie resemblance between his old friend and his son: their mannerism, smile and expressions are all too familiar. The tension dissipates as the men laugh despite the serious situation at hand.
"Well, we haven't quite discovered that just yet, Sam…but we have discovered something very important." Duke's tone turns serious. "We – meaning a team of doctors and myself – have diagnosed you with a seizure disorder most commonly referred to as epilepsy."
The teenager glances confusedly at his father. "Seizures? I have seizures?" He asks in disbelief.
Jason can only hang his head and nod, unable to bear witnessing his son's pain.
"Sam, you have been having Grand Mal or tonic clonic seizures repeatedly for the past five days." Duke continues, trying his best to ease Sam in. "This is the most dangerous type of seizures but they can often be halted when medicine is taken." He pauses for a few moments to allow the teen to digest the shocking information he had told Jason as soon as Sam had been settled into his room four days ago.
"So, what do they do? How come I didn't know I was having them?"
"Tonic clonic seizures include both the tonic and clonic types of seizures. A patient, such as yourself, that has tonic clonic seizures will experience loss of conscious, convulsions and muscle rigidity. After this, a patient will go into postictal, a deep sleep that can last for several hours hence why you did not know you were having them. When you awoke Sam, you simply thought you had fallen asleep and were waking up from an unexpected nap." Duke explains.
Despite the reassuring news that he was not at fault for not recognizing his disorder, the worried gaze on Sam's face does not change.
"There is plenty of medication that you can try until we find the right one that prevents your seizures from occurring. Don't worry; your life is not ruined. It will just be a little different from here on out, an adjustment if you will but if I know a Braddock at all, you'll be just fine."
The teen nods his head slightly and swallows hard to push down the golf-ball-sized lump in his throat. Duke nods tightly at Jason, telling him to talk to his son and leaves the two alone. Once the doctor exits, Sam breathes out heavily, stinging tears threatening to unleash once more. His father walks over and sits on the edge of his bed, giving his good leg a little squeeze. The General brushes the hair from Sam's eyes and plants a kiss on his forehead.
"We're going to get through this, Sammy. I love you, Pooh Bear." He whispers.
The remainder of the day and for the next three, Sam is different and Jason notices. He does not talk or hold any type of conversation. He quietly takes the medicine Duke gives him and follows the instructions his father gives him, helping him walk around the wing and taking his shower with his fractured left leg.
On the evening of the second day as CC finishes helping Sam rewrap his leg after his shower, Jason asks worriedly, "Sammy? What's wrong, sweetie?"
His teenage son gazes up at him, blinking his bleary eyes heavily. Sam had another seizure that morning so Duke changed his medication but this particular type has been making him sleepy all day.
"I'm just tired, Daddy. Really, really tired." He answers, gingerly crawling into bed.
Jason quickly helps his son, pulling the covers up for Sam to use when necessary.
"I know you are, buddy but is anything else wrong? You just seem so – upset."
Sam thinks for a moment before answering. "I just want everything to go back to the way it was. I want to go back to school and I really wish I could drive, but I honestly just want to go home, Daddy."
His father strokes his hair and nuzzles his nose, making him giggle. "I know you do sweetheart. I want everything normal again too, but this is the new normal and we're going to adjust it's just going to take a little time. I promise. Everything's going to be just fine, Pooh Bear."
A nurse brings Sam his medicine again before he goes to sleep and Duke pops his head in before he heads to his compound. Jason hops up to talk to his friend at the door, not wanting to wake his son who is already falling asleep.
"Hey, I think I'm going to take Sammy home tomorrow. Just wanted to know what you thought about that and what we might need to do medically."
"Oh, um, okay." Duke stammers. Sam definitely should not be going home yet especially without a doctor on hand for any emergencies. "Well, I wouldn't advise that you take him home until we've found a medicine prevents his seizures for at least a full week. You would also need someone of a medical profession if anything went wrong and he suddenly started having a seizure again."
"I can hire a concierge doctor – or you could be my concierge. You already know Sam, his disorder and he's comfortable with you as well. I'll talk to your commander, if you want to be our doctor that is."
Duke nods slowly. "Yep, I can do that."
Jason smiles widely, sporting the same lopsided grin he passed on to his son. He walks back into his son's room, tucking the bright teal comforter around Sam's sleeping form before lowering himself onto the couch arranged against the adjacent wall closet to his son's bed and tugs the throw over himself.
Noon: The Next Day
Jason and Duke have a firm hold on either side of a pale, out-of-breath Sam as they help him up the spiral staircase to his bedroom. He stumbles and then collapses on the stairs, his chest heaving for air as he closes his eyes.
"Sam?" Duke states loudly, lowering his patient onto the wooden steps.
"Sammy?! Pooh Bear!" Jason shouts as he watches his son's eyes close. He prays with all his heart that his teenager is not having a seizure, knowing how many injuries he could sustain from convulsions on wooden stairs.
"Sam, talk to me. C'mon open your eyes, buddy. I know you're in there. You gotta open your eyes. Now, Sam." Duke orders. His young patient sighs heavily and slowly peels his eyes open, blinking heavily. "Good, good, Sam. How do you feel? What does everything feel like?"
"I'm tired." He moans.
Duke quickly checks the sixteen year old over before motioning for the teen's father to help him carry the boy the rest of the way. They lay him down on his bed and leave him alone to rest. Sam sleeps peacefully the rest of the day and much into the next. Duke assures Jason that this is normal and Sam is not in any serious medical danger.
Early the next morning as the two older men are sipping coffee, Duke brings up an interesting topic.
"So where's the witch? And Natalie?" He asks.
Jason can only sigh and place his head in his hands. "Gone. I found out what she'd been doing to Sam when I was gone."
He shakes his head unable to delve into the painful and horrifying details his wife had blatantly told him when he inquired. Sam's statement during their 'disagreement' about "everyone just please stop hurting me" did not settle right with Jason. Everyone? He had been gone for two months and before that, four. He had not laid a rough hand on his son since two years prior.
"I just can't believe that she would do those things to him! No wonder he's so scared all the time! She's been hurting him since he was in kindergarten! How could she?! How could have found any fault in Sammy at that age? He was perfect! He is perfect." He corrects himself. "I suppose she turned Natalie against us as well because she wanted to go with her."
"Is it official?"
"Is what official?" Jason asks confused.
"The divorce?"
"Oh, oh God no. Do you have any idea how much unwanted press and publicity we would get from that? Imagine the headlines: General Braddock's Shocking Divorce; Richest Bachelor in Canada Now Available; A Family Divided; Does Turmoil in the Family Mean Turmoil for the Country?. It'd be ridiculous. That is last thing Sam needs as well. He needs to get better and if he ever wants to join the Army, he will have that opportunity. No one is going to know about his epilepsy unless I go public with it." He states firmly.
Duke nods curtly, understanding the protective-fatherly stance his friend is taking for his son's sake.
"Well, I'm sorry you found out what Jaqueline was doing but I'm glad you did so now you truly can protect Sam, but Jase? Are you going to stay home and take care of him until he's better or are you going to continue to travel the world on the mere whim of a meeting and leave Sam's safety in the hands of someone that could inflict the same, or more harm than Jaqueline?" Duke asks.
"I'm staying here. I've already decided that. I am only going to attend the most necessary meetings, try to have the majority here in Canada and if I absolutely must leave the country, Sam is coming with me."
"Good for you, Jason. I'm proud of you for this. I know it's not easy risking your job but you're doing the right thing, buddy."
"Thanks. I just hope Sam doesn't hold too big of a grudge against me for allowing that awful woman to inflict such harm on him. I hope he believes that I honestly had no idea. I love him so much, I'd really hate for us to butt heads the whole time."
The conversation continues like so for the next few hours during breakfast. Jason and his friend take turns checking on Sam but Duke insists that he will recover faster if he is left undisturbed to rest. Sam wakes a little after his father and doctor eat dinner. Jason feeds him small portions of food and gives him plenty to drink, although he has been on an IV the entire time. As the following days pass, Jason scarcely leaves his son's room: helping Sam sit up, eat, drink, relieve himself and the most taxing task, taking a shower. The sixteen year old sleeps for the majority of the time but he talks a bit more than he did at the hospital. His best friend, Matt, is briefed on Sam's situation by his father who has been close friends with Jason since high school and he visits often, always managing to lift Sam's spirits by the time he has to leave.
Only four souls know of Samuel's disorder: Jason, Duke, Matt and Corey (Matthew's father) and that is exactly how it will stay.
"Dad? When can I go back to school?" Sam asks for the tenth time that week.
His father cannot suppress his sigh. "Samuel, I told you, we are going to have to talk about it."
"Yeah but when? You've been saying that since I woke up at the base! That was two weeks ago, Dad! I want to go back to school! I'm only going to fall further behind the longer you keep me home. I mean, sure, it's great not having to wake up so early and I get to spend a lot of with you but I need to get good grades to be able to get into a good college. I'm a junior, Dad. I can't afford to blow grades off now!" Sam reminds him. "Why can't we talk about it now?"
"Sam, I – I don't want you going back to school." Jason states softly.
"What?!"
"I don't think it's a good idea for you to go back to school, in that building."
"Why not?!"
"Because Sam, we have not found a medication that works yet. What if you had a seizure going down the stairs to your next class? You would fall! You could break something! You could be killed! But worse, you could be paralyzed." He whispers horrified at the very thought.
"Why would that be worse than death?"
"You would have to live, live until you're seventy-five or eighty always having someone take care of you, unable to be independent, unable to work, not able to move or do anything for yourself! You would be miserable, Sammy. And it would break my heart in a million pieces if you were ever hurt because I decided to go against my gut feeling and let you do what you pleased." He pauses. "Sam, please don't misunderstand me. I want you to be happy. I want that more than anything in the world! But Pooh Bear, I don't think I can consciously allow you to return to school knowing the possible that you could very likely be injured and it would be none other than my own fault. I don't want you to be hurt. I want you to be safe, sweetie, and I want for you to be happy."
"What would you do? About school, I mean. I can't just skip the next three and half months."
"I know. I plan to homeschool you, just until this is all under control."
"My first prom is in three months. I want to go to prom, Daddy." Sam squeaks, tears rolling down his cheeks.
Jason sighs, tears welling in his eyes as well as he embraces his son tightly. "You can still go, Sammy. You just need to find a date. Ask some of your friends to help. I'm sure Matt, Joseph and Ben would be more than happy to find a date for you. Who wouldn't want to go to junior prom with the handsomest boy in the junior class?" He smiles genuinely, kissing his son's forehead and wiping away the tears.
The teenager finds the strength to smile. The past two weeks have been hard on him; his diagnosis, the news that he could not drive until he has not had a seizure in three years due to working medication and now that he will have to leave all of his few friends to be homeschooled. He has been very brave throughout the entire process, trusting his father's judgement to protect him and do what is best now.
"Okay, Dad. Maybe homeschooling won't be so bad. It's only for little while anyway." He says aloud trying to be positive, however on the inside, he is feeling quite the opposite. "Am I going to have a say in who my instructor is or are you just going to conduct the interviews by yourself?"
The General is slightly taken aback. "Sam, I'm going to be your instructor. Unless, you'd rather have someone else?" His heart sinks. He knew mending the fences between he and his son was not going to be easy but he thought he had built up a significant amount of trust throughout the past two weeks.
"Oh! No, you'd be great! I – I just thought that you were going to get back to being the General and uh, the meetings and traveling and all that again. I thought you had just taken some time off. I didn't know that you were going to stick around." Sam states, just as surprised as his father had been but his words drive cold metal stakes through Jason's heart.
'Too busy with your job, the requirements, traveling without me, meetings all the time, never home, never want to be with me, gone for months, when will you come home, will you even be alive, are you going to desert me again, too busy to take care of me, too busy to care, your job is more important than me, didn't think you'd stay, you never stay.' Is all Jason heard in his son's hurtful words.
"Dad, you know you don't have to do this. I'll make out just fine with any instructor that you see fit. You don't need to hold back on your career now just because of me." (Because I know you never do and I'd rather if you'd leave now before I start depending on you)
"Sam, I want to do this with you. I want to be your father. I want to be your friend and I want to be here, with you. Can you give me another chance, Sammy?" Jason pleads.
"Sure, Dad. I want to do this with you too."
The duos hug and kiss goodnight, a new start for the both. Over the next few weeks, Sam excels in the rigorous homeschooling program his father had selected. They work through the material each day, Sam receives high grades and the pair has quite a good deal of playtime together pulling childish pranks and pillow fights. Prom is approaching quickly, only two weeks away and Sam's friends at school are working fervently to find a date for him. After finding his son in postictal in bed one morning, Jason decides that Sam should sleep with him until they find the right medication that will suppress his frequent seizures. The General has grown stricter on some of the 'rules' regarding Sam's safety such as, not being alone in the bathroom during a shower, not walking up the stairs by himself, he's not allowed to go outside unless a guard, one of the few remaining house-staff or Jason himself is with him. Sam does not mind spending an intimate amount of time with his father however. He enjoys the attention and love he receives.
Three days before prom the telephone rings. Sam answers excitedly, knowing his friends would be calling about this time about his date.
"Hello?" Sam answers excitedly.
"Hey Sam," comes Ben's sad voice. "Look man, Joe and I have asked every girl in senior high and either they have a date already, aren't planning on going or don't know who you are. We tried to sell your personality as best we could but we just couldn't find anyone. I'm really sorry buddy."
Sam's face drops as he lets out the breath he had been holding for the past week. "Oh, okay man. Well, thanks for trying Ben. I guess it just wasn't supposed to happen. Tell Joe thanks too. I hope you guys have a blast." Tears threaten to let loose any moment.
"I'm really sorry, Sam. I really wish you could - "
"Naw man, it's fine, don't worry about it. You did what could. You guys just – have a great time and tell me everything that happened; what it was like." His heart feels like it's being torn to shreds. "I gotta go. I'll talk to you later." He quickly places the phone back into the cradle.
"Was that your friends, Sam?" Jason asks, hearing his son speaking to someone and not calling him to answer it.
"Yeah."
"What'd they say? They find a cute date for you?" He had not heard any pieces of his conversation or he would have never asked such a hurtful question.
The tears finally leak out of the corners of Sam's eyes as he shakes his head 'no'. "They couldn't find anyone that was available or wanted to go with me." He says shakily.
Jason's face drops as he quickly pulls his teenage son into an embrace, Sammy's tears wetting his father's shirt as he cries into his chest and shoulder.
"Oh I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so, so sorry." He murmurs.
After a few moments, Jason has an idea.
"Hey, hey." He states gently, lifting his son's chin with two of his fingers. "How 'bout if we went to a nice fancy restaurant that night? Just you and me. Would you like that, Sammy?"
The teen displays a watery smile as he nods. "Yeah, I'd like that." He hugs his father again.
The Night of Prom:
Sam is adjusting the position of his red-toned clip-on tie. He and his father are due to leave in twenty minutes for their reserved seats at a classic upscale restaurant. His white dress shirt, dark grey sports jacket and stylish narrow red vans add to Sam's quirky classic impression.
"Almost ready, Sammy?" Jason calls to his son upstairs.
"Yep!" He bounds down the hall and squeezes his father around the waist.
His big blue eyes gaze inquisitively into his father's. Jason smiles and gives his teenager a bear hug, tickling the sides of his stomach on purpose. His son giggles until he's gasping for air in between his hysteric laughs. The father and son are laughing uncontrollably when the phone rings.
"Hello?" He answers, barely able to suppress another bout of laughter. "Yes sir." His tone suddenly changes. Sam can tell it's someone from work. "Yes sir, I understand." He moves into another room.
'Must be something classified.' Sam thinks as he flops down onto a chair in the middle of the hallway.
His father returns a few moments later, an apologetic face showing clearly.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah, yeah…hey uh, the president just called for an emergency meeting with Britain's prime minister on the situation with Iran. They're both in town and I have to be at the base in ten minutes. I'm so sorry, Pooh Bear. We can reschedule…for next week, maybe. I'm so sorry, Sammy."
His face drops, tears instantly burning the backs of his eyes. "Oh. Okay. Yeah, uh next week's fine." He quickly turns around to head back down the hall to change into his pajamas.
"Sammy! I don't want you leave you here alone like this."
"No, no, go Dad, just go. You need to go. Get dressed, c'mon you're going to be late." Sam turns his father around, pointing him towards his large room.
"Samuel. I need to make sure that you're going to be okay." Jason insists.
His son appears to be taken aback. "Dad, I'll be fine. Manwell will be here for a while longer. I'll just stay in my room and watch movies in bed. I'll be okay. Yes, I promise I won't go down the stairs, I'll call you if I have a seizure and I won't stay up too late."
"Baby I'm sorry. I love you. I promise, I will make this up to you."
"It's fine, Dad. You don't have to make anything up; you're job's really important. My Daddy saves the world." He jests with an undertone of sincerity and bitterness.
The General cannot help but chuckle. He places a gentle kiss on the top of Sam's head.
"I'm sorry, son." He whispers, already half dressed in his formal army uniform.
At that moment, the doorbell rings.
"Samuel can you get that? Manwell is tending to the car." The teenager nods and hurries down the stairs. "Be careful!" Jason shouts after him.
"I'm alright!" His son calls back, safely reaching the bottom of the staircase and he releases his held breath.
"Hello?" He can hear Sam answer as he is walking down the spiral staircase.
Matt stands on the brick steps leading up to the front door. He ceremoniously bends down on one knee, grabbing his son's hand.
"Samuel Braddock, will you go to prom with me this fair evening?" Matt asks, hardly able to retain his seriousness.
Sam covers his mouth in shock as tears roll down his face and he nods 'yes'. Jason smiles broadly. One would think his son has just been proposed to from the two teenagers' positions and their reactions. Leave it to Matt to make everything work. Matt stands, half laughing/half crying as he embraces his friend.
"Wait! I don't have a tux." Sam states, his demeanor dropping significantly.
"Do not worry, young lad. For your proper suit is in my sleek carriage. I shall fetch it for you now." Matthew replies, skipping off to grab Sam's tuxedo from his car. "For you, Monsieur."
"If you made Ben tell me that no one would go to prom with me just because you wanted to ask, I'm going to kill you!" Sam laughs.
"I didn't! I swear. No, they told me last week and I was devastated. I knew how much you wanted to go. C'mon, go get dressed!" Matt urges.
Sam nods vigorously, trotting to the bathroom downstairs to change.
"Thank you, Matt." Jason states honestly, ruffling his 'second' son's hair. "You don't know how much this means to him; or me."
The dark-brown haired teen smiles brightly. "I think I might have an idea." He pauses and laughs. "Sorry I came so late, I left school early to run to Kingston to pick up his tux. That was the only place that had his size available. I called everywhere. The traffic was awful coming back, I'm just glad we won't actually be late…we might miss the grand march, but I don't think he'll mind too much. Were you two going to go somewhere?" He asks noticing his friend's father has his dress uniform on, all the decorations on too.
"Uh no, we were but I just received a call for an emergency meeting at the base that I'm supposed to be at…right now." He laughs, reading his watch. "I really thank you, Matthew."
Sam exits the bathroom looking perplexed. "Uh, Daddy?" He asks holding his improperly knotted tie in the air.
His father chuckles and ties his tie properly, kissing both of Sam's cheeks as they walk out to the car.
"Wait!" Jason calls just as they are about to climb into Matt's car. "Let me get your picture."
He quickly snaps a photo with the camera, both their arms around the other's neck and hugs both boys goodbye, going over the checklist of reminders as they slowly pull out of the driveway.
"Now you boys call me if you need anything, leave me a message. If you're going to stay at Mattie's house, let me know Sammy and if you two want to stay here, just make sure it's alright with Corey. I love you! Have fun! Be careful driving! I don't want to get a call from the hospital saying you've been in a crash. Don't either of you dare drink or I will tan your hides! No girls either! Absolutely none!" He shouts playfully but both know how serious he is. "Matthew, make sure Sam takes his medicine!"
Sam and Matt nod to all of the commands, laughing at most but agreeing nonetheless. They set off for their first prom.
Five Hours Later:
"That was so terrible it was hilarious!" Matt cackles as they unlock the front door to the Braddock estate.
The two continue to make jokes of the night as they ready themselves for bed: shedding the tuxedos, throwing on pajamas, brushing their teeth and for Sam, taking his medicine. Sam sighs, he wishes this medication would work. It's the only one so far that hasn't made him feel sick or sleepy but the past few days have proven it ineffective. Duke is ordering some different pills and wants him to stay on something until they arrive. Sam and his best friend climb into the queen-sized bed, curling up next to each other as sleep overtakes the two brothers.
The Following Events:
Sam and Matt have learned that prom is incredibly lame and not an event they wish to repeat. Duke's new medicine is not working either although he assures them that one of these medications will stop the daily seizures, they just have to find the right one. Sam's summer is mostly spent with his father, traveling or staying home together.
The changes happened slowly: new quirks – nothing alarming, more shy in public, less talkative, an occasional anxiety attack, a new, strong, dislike to being touched by anyone other than Jason, Matt, Corey or Duke and even then, he stiffened if unexpected. Then came the more noticeable ones: slower cognitive response, taking longer to comprehend a simple question, the occasional not answering at all, the slight slur in speech, the hand-holding, the run and jumps into his father's arms, the love of being carried around, the more childish actions such as pillow-fights and calling Jason 'Daddy' instead of 'Dad', the confused look that came across his face more often, the slightly buggier eyes – more concerned seeming, more pleading – and sheer joy he displayed by simply sitting next to his father.
Sam is almost seventeen and Christmas had been a blast. January has been very cold so the pair have stayed inside for the most part, sitting by the fire and playing board games, occasionally going outside to play in the snow. Despite how noticeable or unnoticeable the changes to his son were, Jason didn't pay any mind to them. He loved his son too much to care that he was changing. He was simply thrilled to bond with Sam and try to atone for his past mistakes. No matter what medication Duke put Sam on, he still has seizures. The General is growing worried, very worried. They should have been able to get them under control by now, a full year has passed. A year full of late-night visits to the base, high-speed racing to the hospital in Toronto, seizures in bed, seizures in the parking lot, the grocery stores, the heaped snow piles and the worst of all – seizures in the car. Sam had received a broken arm during one of his fits while driving to hospital for a previous one. It had been right before Christmas but Sam didn't seem to notice the hard red cast on his arm during the holiday. With the coldest month now upon them, Sam enjoys spending the nights in bed curled into his warm, strong father.
"Daddy, I don't wanna go to the doctors." Sam whines as he sits in the front seat during the car ride to the base. Duke wants to recheck the teen for any signs of improvement or decline in his condition.
"I know you don't Sammy but we have to today. We finished all of your homework, right?"
"Yea." Sam answers, gazing out the window.
Jason had decided to keep his son on the homeschooling program they had begun last year since Sam's disorder was not under control yet and he seemed to enjoy it. He takes Sam's hand as he helps his son out of the car and holds it as they walk into the base, flashing his identification only for the sheer enjoyment of waving a card through the air. Sam dawdles behind, gazing intently at everything he passes. He sits down on the side of his bed as Duke enters. The doctor tries to make small talk with Sam, but he does not answer and seems uncomfortable with someone standing so close to him.
"Daddy." He suddenly interrupts, his ears deaf to the conversation that is being held around him.
"Yeah Sammy?"
"I wan' some fro-yo." He states, a goofy, lopsided smile painted on his perfect face.
Jason cannot help but to laugh at his son's new favourite word and food. Frozen yogurt. It never ceases to amaze him how 'fro-yo', as his son calls it, can make someone so happy.
"How 'bout we get some when we are finished here, Sammy." He chuckles.
Sam makes his little sighing noise with his mouth, his lips vibrating together. "N'Kay." He pauses. "Can we be finished now?" He asks hopefully, his bright eyes light up.
"Not quite yet, Sam." Duke grins. "Jason? A word?" He asks, leading his friend out into the hallway but not before the older Braddock places a kiss on his son's forehead, telling him to stay put and be good.
"What's up?" He asks.
"Jason, I think you need to take Sam to a more practiced, pediatric hospital. I know there's a great one in Philadelphia that has a superb neurology team. They're also very seasoned in children with – mental disorders." Duke states choosing his words very carefully.
"Mental disorders?" Jason asks confused.
"Well, his epilepsy is a mental disorder of sorts but, Jase, I think something is going on too. I'm not positive so I'm not going to waste my breath, but you need to take him somewhere else. I've done everything I can for him and nothing's worked. You need to go to a pediatric hospital where there's a good chance they'll have different medication for the children they see. All I have is adult meds, they might not be working because he still has a pediatric brain. Just try, please. I can get you in in two days. That'll give you the time to drive or fly down and just chill out, let Sam become adjusted and just have some fun. Oh and I'd bring more than two pairs of clothes, you might be there a while."
The father soaks in the information. 'Another mental disorder? No, he couldn't.' He nods his head slowly. "Okay. I'll take him home and we'll start packing. Thanks Duke."
"No problem. Let me know how it goes!" He calls as his friend and his son walk down the hallway to exit the building.
When they reach the house again, Jason begins packing both of their clothes and other necessities into one large black suitcase.
"Where we goin' Daddy?" Sam asks, sitting on his father's bed as he packs.
"We are going to Philadelphia, Sammy. You know where that is? That's in the United States of America."
Sam flaps his hands together wildly. "Ohhh! Fun!" He shouts.
His father smiles. 'Just enjoy the time you have with Sam. It doesn't matter if he has ten thousand other problems, he's always going to be your Pooh Bear. The most important part is that you love him and he loves you too.' Jason reminds himself.
They leave at 0900, stopping for lunch in Buffalo and getting out every two or so hours to stretch. Jason has booked a nice hotel in Philadelphia only ten minutes away from the children's hospital. The pair go out for dinner and window shop before heading back to sleep at 2030, both exhausted from the long day's trip. The next morning at 0940, Jason wakes Sam. He helps his son get dressed and eat breakfast before driving to the hospital for their 1000 appointment.
"Samuel Braddock?" An attractive nurse calls.
Sam takes his father's hand as they follow her back to record his height, weight and blood pressure before she leads them to a brightly painted room with train pictures: a particular fascination of Sam's.
The doctor enters a little while later and seems very kind. He asks Jason a slew of questions and then asks him to sit in a waiting room down the hall while he and his assistant ask Sam some questions and complete fun activities. At first, Sam is horrified that his father has to leave. He bursts into tears and clings onto Jason for dear life. The doctor soon convinces him that his daddy will be outside waiting for him but that right now, they were going to play some games with him. Jason admired the way the doctor spoke to Sam in a commanding, yet kind and gentle way that would help his son understand.
A little under two hours later, the doctor emerges and brings him into Sam's room where his son leaps into his arms, happy to be held again. Their reunion did not last long as the nurse took a giddy Sam to the playroom to play with the toy trains so his father and the doctor could speak in private.
"Mr. Braddock, your son is displaying very clear signs of another metal disorder that seems to be the effect of his epilepsy left untreated." He pauses to allow his patient's father to digest the information. "I have diagnosed your son with ASD: Autism Spectrum Disorder."
Jason blinks and shakes his head trying to decipher if he had heard the doctor right or not. "You mean that Sam is autistic?" He asks, despair is etched in the worry lines of his face.
The doctor nods. "I'm afraid so. I've hardly even heard of an epileptic child developing autism but he is in the rare minority. As I'm sure you know, if a child has too many seizures, they can develop some mental retardation. However, in some rare cases, untreated epilepsy can damage a different part of the brain that causes autism instead of retardation. Personally, I have only seen this once in all of my twenty-three years as working as a pediatric neurologist but it can happen. Now, Sam is rather high functioning on the spectrum but not high enough for me to classify him with Asperger's."
The rest of the doctor's speech about autism, how to work with the child, adjust to certain things and the medications he can put Sam on for his ASD and epilepsy are scarcely heard by Jason. He is in a fog. The news of his son's diagnosis is just too overwhelming, too startling, too unbelievable.
He is given a large folder of information on Grand Mal seizures and ASD to take home as well as the doctor's number in case he has any further questions. He nearly cries as Sam jumps in his arms, wraps his legs around his waist, his arms around Jason's neck.
A nurse at the front desk checks them out, finding how much their insurance would cover and how much they need to pay. As they leave, Jason's face is pale, desperation etched in his soul. Sam's hand wraps tightly around his own while they walk out together reminding him that he needs to pay attention to protect Sam from walking into the road without looking, one of his new inherent flaws. He takes his son directly back to their hotel room and takes a shower. Thankfully, Sam does not ask much of him that night for his nurse at the hospital had allowed him to take one of their toy trains home, so he is very preoccupied. Later that evening, after a room serviced dinner and reading through a good majority of his son's recently diagnosed condition, Jason feels much better. He takes Sam outside and down the street to a large park where they walk around happily in the dusky night. The world is not gone, everything it is not entirely over yet.
They stay in Philly for a week before driving back to Ottawa. Sam begins to act more like he used to with the medication for his ASD as it helps him comprehend more easily and function with the disorder. Two different medications later, Sam's seizures finally stop. Jason cries and throws a party, inviting all who knew. Sam isn't quite sure what is going on but everyone seems to be happy so he is happy too.
The father and son begin their long journey down the winding road of recovery. Jason decides that all he can do is give Sam the unconditional love he deserves and help him whenever he can. Sam is happy and that is all that matters. They hit some rough patches in the road but they held each other's hands and walked through it one day at a time.
'Everything is worth it when your son curls into you in bed and whispers, "I love you, Daddy."' Jason thinks as his thoughts drift into blackness, his mind still focused on his lovely son he loves so much. He can only pray their bond has not been forever broken.
A/N: I hope it is understandable why it took me so long to write this chapter. Thank you so much for reading and please review! Final chapter coming soon!