After the Fall
Chapter Eleven
Wheeler peered out of the small window as the evening sun set behind the city beyond. He sighed, reaching forward and touching the grimy spots of dirt and dust staining the glass. He turned away and dropped down onto the bed, a huff of exasperation escaping his lips.
The American's eyes glanced towards the other side of the hospital room. He had been moved from the comfort of a private room after the others had left. Now sharing with another patient, his room mate was shielded from view and they were separated by a thick curtain.
Ma-Ti, Kwame and Gi had returned to Hope Island for the night. It had been a reluctant move on their part, but a necessary one. There were loose ends to tie up, missing rings to locate and necessities to gather for the two Planeteers yet to be discharged from hospital.
He'd bid them goodbye; leaning against the doorframe and raising his good hand.
"Don't forget my clothes!" he'd called out to their retreating figures. Gi had turned and waved back, flashing him a genuine smile.
"Ring me when she wakes up," she'd replied as they had disappeared around the corner, her voice reverberating throughout the small corridor. He knew they were on their way to meet Gaia at the rendezvous point.
Wheeler hadn't even bothered returning to his room at that stage. He'd high-tailed it straight towards the lift and ridden it to the third floor. The doors had lurched and shuddered as they opened, giving him an uncomfortably close view of the ICU front counter. He had focused his eyes on the floor and stepped out, striding past the nurses with his free hand in his pocket, doing his best to look like he was meant to be there.
He checked the numbers on the doors as he passed, glancing in at the solemn figures, grieving as they gathered around their sick loved ones.
Wheeler reached room seven and paused, suddenly filled with nervous apprehension. The door to Linka's room was closed all the way, with the curtains drawn alongside the partition windows. He raised his hand, his fingers hovering over the door handle. He knew Mishka would be inside, as well as Linka's nona. Linka was very close to her family. It was obvious that they cared deeply for one another, keeping in regular contact.
Linka had recently been a bridesmaid at her brother's wedding and also maintained a positive relationship with her new sister-in-law.
His thoughts turned briefly to his own mother and father, and the dysfunctional life he had turned his back on when he first became a Planeteer.
Dad wouldn't put me out if I was on fire.
A memory was dragged forth from the depths of his subconscious. It was one of many. He recalled his mother working 60 hour weeks for the majority of his grade-school life and his father too drunk by 6pm to organise dinner for his seven year old son. Wheeler's jaw clenched, recalling the time he'd attempted to boil some pasta while his dad lay passed-out in front of the football.
He'd dragged a chair over in order to reach the spaghetti in the top cupboard and it had tipped over, sending him crashing to the floor. Agony had flared in his ankle and he'd cried out in pain, clutching at his swelling limb.
His father had woken with a roar and surged forward, giving him a belt across the head and leaving his tear-streaked child where he'd fallen. Nick Wheeler had slammed the door behind him, muttering under his breath as he'd staggered out the door, no doubt headed for the bar on the corner.
Wheeler had remained in the same spot, crying silently until his mother had arrived home. The familiar anger and resentment bubbled to the surface when he recalled his mother's reaction.
"Oh, sweetheart; you know better than to make your father angry!"
His mother had a habit of justifying and excusing her husband's behaviour. Never mind that the little boy hadn't eaten since breakfast, or that he'd snapped a ligament and that his father was too drunk to organise medical attention.
Even at that tender age, he had fully grasped the unfairness of the situation.
He felt a sudden, irrational flare of jealousy as he imagined Linka's family perched over her, holding her hand, whispering to her. Fussing over her. Loving and missing and caring for her. He bit it back, pushing it to the depths of his mind and feeling ashamed of himself.
Various thoughts danced through his head, each one unburdened but causing his stomach to swirl with nerves. He wondered if he would be welcomed if he entered Linka's room, or if he would be asked to leave by her brother. Would they blame him for what happened?
Wheeler frowned, suddenly feeling like an intruder.
I have no right to be here. What am I to her anyway?
He sighed. He just wanted to see her, to grasp some tangible proof that she was there. Wheeler was torn between opening the door and dealing with the consequences, or turning around and returning to his room.
Feeling dejected and defeated, he chose the latter.
"Hey," a voice spoke softly. Wheeler looked up in surprise. He hadn't heard anyone come in. Mishka took a seat beside him, gesturing towards the TV. "Local soap opera?"
Wheeler nodded, stretching his arm above his head. "Yeah. Can't make heads or tails of it, but it beats the boredom somewhat."
Mishka nodded. Wheeler hadn't seen Linka's brother for about twelve months. His hair was shorter now, but still the same flax-coloured shade as his sister. Broad shoulders and a prematurely lined face, made more so by the events of the past twenty-four hours. But his smile was genuine and Wheeler couldn't help smiling back in return.
"How much longer are you here for?"
"I'm bein' discharged tomorrow," he said.
"That's good to hear." Mishka grinned at him. "Are you heading home to New York to recover?"
"Aw, hell no," he answered, switching the television off and settling himself against the pillows piled up against the head board. "I guess I'll just hang around on Hope Island for a while and annoy the others. How's your sister?"
Mishka face transformed as his face lit up. "Linka is off the vent. She's doing great, she even opened her eyes a few hours ago. Don't think she noticed us though. Still out of it."
Wheeler exhaled, shakily, relieved beyond words. "That's great." He sat quietly, feeling slightly uncomfortable as Mishka's eyes glanced over his injuries. They settled on his temple and the shrapnel scars from the bullet narrowly missing him.
"Is that what I think it is?"
"Oh," Wheeler said, touching his forehead self-consciously. "Yeah. One of Plunder's guy's got a little trigger-happy."
Mishka's mouth dropped open. "Bozshe moi," he muttered, appalled at how close the bullet had come. "Wheeler, I think it might be time to reconsider your employment options. This is getting ridiculous."
"Yeah," Wheeler breathed, but he really couldn't think of anything more useful to add so he stayed quiet.
"I'm surprised you haven't been up to see her?" Mishka's green eyes twinkled with amusement. "From what our Little Linka has told us, you are not exactly the type who would let hospital rules get in your way."
Wheeler chuckled. He contemplated his response, but in the end, decided to be honest. "I've snuck up there three times, actually. Shift manager had me escorted back to my room twice and threatened to hand-cuff me to the bed."
Mishra chuckled. "Fair enough. And the third time?"
Wheeler shrugged, his eyes downcast as he fiddled with the silver bracelet clutched within his hands. "Door was closed. Didn't wanna intrude."
Mishka's face belied warmth as he regarded his sister's friend fondly. "You are as much her family as we are these days, Wheeler."
The afternoon tea cart was pushed inside and a tray was placed on the swivel table beside him. They both glanced at it, the pot of tea and biscuits looking rather appetising.
They chatted for a little while, sharing the food and discussing light, fluffy topics until Linka's grandmother entered the room. She greeted the American warmly by gripping his shoulders and kissing him on both cheeks. Nona muttered under her breath in Russian as she leaned over her granddaughter's colleague, taking note of the arm cast, sling and the smattering of bandages and scrapes covering his body.
She gestured towards the American, addressing Mishka in rapid-fire Russian. He responded in kind and Wheeler knew she was asking about him. Nona clucked her tongue in sympathy, settling herself in the seat Mishka vacated for her.
Wheeler smiled at her, always happy to see her (in spite of the circumstances). Linka's Nona was a kind and affectionate woman who radiated warmth and love. Wheeler regarded her quietly for a moment, taking in her pinched face and the dark circles under her eyes. She looked tired.
Mishka sighed, his eyes glancing towards the doorway. "Anyway, I need to take nona back to the hotel for a rest. She is a little… how do you say, overwrought, I think? We will return in the morning."
Wheeler raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh? Fair enough."
Mishka stood up, offering his arm to his grandmother who gladly took it.
"I've added you to the visitor's log while we're gone. It would be nice for her to see a familiar face if she wakes up. Night shift will begin at 8pm, so there will be a changeover of staff. You shouldn't have any management issues like today."
Wheeler beamed at him, watching as Mishka reached into his pocket and tossed something metallic beside the tea pot. The American's expression became confused as he glanced at the gold ring, lying in a small puddle of water.
"I appreciate it, man. Thanks. What's that for?" he asked, gesturing towards the jewellery as they made their way towards the door.
Mishka winked, a knowing smile gracing his lips. "Family only, Wheeler. I put you down as her fiancé." Linka's brother laughed, taking note of Wheeler's gob-smacked expression. "I'll pick it up from you in the morning!"
With that they left, leaving Wheeler alone with his rapidly cooling pot of tea and the deeply overwhelming feeling of acceptance. It was a feeling he wasn't used to. He grabbed another biscuit and munched on it thoughtfully, checking his phone on the bedside table.
He found a photo message waiting for him from Gi and he opened it. She'd taken the picture as a selfie and the bottom left corner featured a close-up of her eye and forehead wrinkled in disapproval, with his untidy room in the background.
"Ma-Ti gathering some stuff for you. Clean your damn room. Pig."
Wheeler chuckled and replied immediately.
"Don't try to change me, woman."
His eyes noticed the time on the phone display. Wheeler dropped the device back onto the bedside table. Grabbing the remote, he flicked the television on and settled back, resigning himself to a torturous two hour wait.
He had briefly considered chancing a visit earlier, but the shift manager had threatened to call security the last time. Wheeler had no plans to spend the night cuffed to the bed, especially not with his fire-ring still missing in action.
So with little else to do, Wheeler closed his eyes instead.
A sharp pain pulsed through the flesh below his shoulder and he gasped, sitting upright. Wheeler quickly realised that he had turned over and landed on his bad shoulder. The room was dimly lit now and the television had been turned off.
The American fumbled for his phone and his eyes narrowed as he took in the time.
9:30pm. Shit.
Wheeler swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, shivering. He grabbed his backpack and pulled out his fleece jacket; the only spare item of clothing he had left until the others arrived in the morning. He pushed his free hand through the sleeve and draped the other side over his shoulder as best he could, trying to stave off the frigid air-conditioned chill.
He made his way towards the elevator and rode it upwards. Stepping out onto the third floor, he saw that the nurses station was empty as he walked onwards. Her door was closed but he slipped inside without hesitation, noting the two empty beds and a curtained-off section at the far end where the third bed would no doubt be.
Passing around the curtain, a wave of grief settled over him as he spotted her. Linka's leg was visible, and he was shocked to discover pins and screws attached to either side of her lower limb, holding her shattered tibia together. Wheeler had known her leg was broken, but hadn't been aware of the extent of the damage.
He sunk down into the seat beside her, his shoulders slumped as he let his eyes wander over her face. She was pale but still achingly beautiful. Vulnerable. More vulnerable than he had ever seen her, or ever wanted to see her. Wheeler reached over and placed the palm of his hand against the side of her face, stroking his thumb against her cheek.
Her skin was cool to the touch but soft under his fingertips. His fingers brushed against her hair and he sighed. Usually thick and wavy, her blonde tresses were now dull and lank against the pillow and trailing down her arms and shoulders. He let his fingers slip through the strands, pushing her hair gently away from her forehead.
He'd always loved her hair. On the rare occasions she wore it down, it fell in glossy waves to her lower back. He often wondered what it would be like to bury his face and hands within that hair during quieter, not so innocent moments.
Wheeler sat back, reaching for her hand instead. He held it between his own, his fingers lightly trembling over the skin of her knuckle, palm and wrist. His eyes drifted to the cannula embedded within her other hand, lying limply across her chest.
It honestly grieved him to see her like this. He hadn't been prepared for the emotional reaction as he swallowed, blinking back tears.
"Hey babe," he said softly, watching the rise and fall of her chest, her lips slightly parted as she slept on, oblivious to his ministrations. He squeezed her fingers, rubbing her knuckle again with his thumb.
"Wake up soon. We miss you."
He frowned down at her hand, kissing her palm gently and laying his cheek down on the bed beside her shoulder. He pressed his forehead against her bare arm, his breath whispering against her skin.
"I miss you."
Hi guys... Thanks so much for the reviews. We're winding down now. I haven't given much in the way of W/L interaction in this fic as I intended it to be more of a hard-core eco-alert.
Having said that, I'm envisioning 1-2 more chapters in this fic which will reunite the team members. I am also toying with writing a one-shot, dealing with the aftermath between two certain characters. It will be a stand-alone but linked to the events of this story.
Let me know what you think.