Disclaimer: Chapter named for the song "Let Me Fall", used in the Cirque Du Soleil show Quidam. No ownership on my part.
Chapter IX: Let Me Fall
In less than twenty-four hours, Fang's life had done a complete 180.
Eighteen hours ago, he was laying in bed with Iggy, deep in his embrace, not thinking of the world, or of the next day, or really anything at all. Living in that moment, breathing in Iggy's scent, of musty bedclothes and rain and feeling his breath against the curve of his neck. It'd been close to what Fang would describe as perfection. No, it was perfection.
Eight hours later, their house was raided by Erasers, and their dead nemesis, Ari, came back to life.
An hour after that, Iggy had been discovered missing, Fang's heart had been torn in two.
Then, only four hours later, Iggy had been found. Alive. But unconscious. That, Fang met with a bittersweet feeling. For one, he was glad that Iggy was alive, but the fact that he wasn't waking up... well, that was just horrible.
Now, they- Max- were calling for outside help. Completely against his wishes and seemingly destroying Fang's life as he knew it.
Dr. Martinez seemed a nice enough woman, honestly, but Fang couldn't shake the feeling that she shouldn't be there. She seemed out of place amongst their shabby little ruin, with her well cut bangs and her gentle, waving hair. A well tailored, beige jacket and stark, black pants also set her apart from their dirty, sweatshirts and torn denim jeans. Well, then again, the fact that she was clean generally set her apart from the group.
But besides that, there was an air about her... an air of education and sophistication, even compassion, a type of adult behavior that none of them had seen before. Or perhaps in passing, but never up close.
Then, it hit him square in the face, as his thoughts trailed back to the day he'd passed a mother and daughter walking down the street. The daughter laughed and generally ignored what her mother said, but when she, the daughter, began to speak, the mother listened long and hard, laughing at the right moments, and looking completely engrossed in what her child had to say. It was an amazing thing, the mother and daughter.
And that's what Dr. Martinez was. A mother.
At the moment, she was glancing curiously around their home, trying to hide the concerned grimace that kept uprising in her smile. Max was talking to her, giving her the full tour, showing her the highlights of the home, perhaps? Not likely, seeing as if she was, she'd be sure to toss around a few trademark sarcastic remarks and make wide gestures at the gaping hole in the wall. But instead, her mouth was creased into a frown, as she pointed out the couch. And on it, Iggy's body.
But as they stepped closer, they did not go directly the couch, as Fang had thought they would, but instead, detoured to Fang, who had currently backed himself into a corner, watching the scene unfold.
"Hi," the older woman smiled, sticking out her hand to shake, "I'm Dr. Martinez, you must be Fang."
Awkwardly, Fang took her hand and shook it firmly, feeling odd and unusual, doing such a formal thing, in the Flock, formalities had never been needed.
"You must be Fang"? I'm sure as hell not Angel, he wanted to say, but instead forced himself to look her in the eye and give a forced smile, which probably came out more like an angry smirk, no matter how much he tried. She didn't deserve his angry sarcasm, no matter how much he wanted to use it.
He wanted to say more to her, to ask her what she could do for them. Or about her colleague, the one who would be serving as the actual doctor. But his tongue became oddly tied, and his moment was stolen away, as her attention moved to the antsy looking "oh-my-god-I'm-about-to-meet-a-stranger" dance that Angel was currently engaged in.
She was a pretty woman, Fang decided as he watched her charm her way into the hearts of the younger ones. With her sleek, black hair, her big, brown eyes and megawatt white smile, of course she was pretty. No, not pretty, he thought, beautiful. And not textbook beautiful, either. Real person beautiful. Which was even better.
How could a woman like her ever get mixed up in their little game? He just couldn't see it happening.
"Nudge, so good to meet you at last," she said, embracing the self about voice of the group like her own daughter. Fang gritted his teeth at the sight, regardless of his own wishes. They were acting to flippant, like this was just another game, a little reunion party that they were going to have. But the amusement in the situation, the fun, party feeling quickly faded, as Max brought them crashing back down to earth.
"I'm glad you're here, Dr. Martinez," the blonde girl said, pulling her over to the couch where Iggy was laying. Then, whispered most seriously, "This morning he was breathing so shallowly, I thought he might have been dying."
That was the truth, as Fang knew, because that morning she'd woken up him, and only him, and told him something was going wrong with Iggy. That is breathing was too shallow, too quick. He wasn't getting enough oxygen to his brain.
His breathing had returned to normal soon enough, but they'd both nearly had heart attack watching him hyperventilate like that. His chest entire chest rising and falling, shaking like the force of an earthquake, and the way the ragged breath escaped his lips, it sent chills up and down Fang's spine, and cool, heartless rush into his chest.
And he was completely surprised when, in a moment of pure, innocent emotion, Max put her arms around Fang's shoulders, pulling him into her warm embrace, with he met with a stiff, awkward hug. Actually, he didn't hug her back, he only let her try to comfort him. In vain, of course.
They broke away quickly, of course, because hugging Fang was like hugging a pole. But he couldn't help feeling there was something wrong with her hug. It wasn't the hug of two friends, or a friend and a pole, but she put a little extra in it. Emotion, turmoil, hormones, it was different.
Honestly, Max wasn't as angry as he'd thought she would be. Heck, she wasn't angry at all. She only seemed to accept it as fact and move on. Which, for her track record, was amazing. It was not in her nature to simply say to herself, Okay, Fang loves Iggy, now let's talk about something else. But he fully expected a long talk with her about it later.
And Angel? Well she truly lived up to her name, serving as a sort of medium between him and Iggy, and passing on the message: he loves you.
"Hmm," Dr. Martinez scribbled a few more notes in her book, "I can't say anything just yet, but I think you were right about the cracked rib, and I'm almost a hundred percent positive that he'll have to be hospitalized for his head injury."
Now that, came as a shocking blow to Fang. Honestly, he thought Dr. Martinez and her friend would patch him up in the comfort of their nearly blown up shack and then leave. But now he had to be hospitalized, and see doctors. what the hell was up with that?
She left, without saying her formal good-byes, promising to be back within the hour with her colleague and perhaps an ambulance.
It took her all of thirty minutes.
"It'll be alright," Max said, squeezing his hand as they watched Mr. Bellmont, a fat, pudgy neurosurgeon at a big, fancy hospital, examine Iggy's head, pointing different things about it out to Dr. Martinez and the paramedics.
"How can you be sure?" he asked her, nerves flooding his stomach as he watched the paramedics retreat back to the ambulance, perhaps to get a stretcher.
"I just am," she shrugged as the paramedics reappeared, it seemed his guess about the stretcher was correct. Except they also brought a small, toolbox like first aid kit with them.
As they began to treat the unconscious boy, Dr. Martinez began to herd them together in a half circle around her. It seemed there was something they needed to talk about.
"We're going to take Iggy to the hospital," she told them, "only one person can go with him in the ambulance, the rest of you will go with either me or Mr. Bellmont, and we'll take you there ourselves. Then, when we get there I'm going to ask that you guys stay quiet and just hang out for a while, because there's a good chance he's going to be in surgery. When that gets over, you can stay as long as you want to, but eventually I'll drive you all back to my hotel, where you'll get your own room."
Hospital, brain surgery, hotel. Seemed simple enough. Though Fang really would have preferred it without the brain surgery, or the hospital for that matter. The hotel though, he had to admit that was a nice touch.
"Which one of you wants to go in the ambulance?" she asked just as the paramedics seemed to be getting ready to shove off.
"Fang," Max said immediately, before the brunette himself had a chance to think about what had been said.
"No," he protested, "You're the leader, you go." Honestly, he wasn't quite sure he was ready to do something like that. Because they'd surely be sticking wires and pins and tubes of all sorts into him, speaking in that weird medical code. It made Fang very uncomfortable.
"Which is why I have to go with them," she motioned to the younger ones, "Plus, you know Iggy best out of all of us, if the paramedics have questions, you'd be the best one to answer them."
He sighed, she did have a point. Though he couldn't help thinking last night's little revelation had tainted her decision. Come to think of it, it was tainting a lot of her decisions.
"Everybody ready?" an annoyingly cheerful male paramedic asked, coming up behind Dr. Martinez.
"Yes," she nodded, "Fang will be going with you." She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. It took every bit of his will not to pull away, honestly, he hated it when adults touched him. It was so creepy... so reminiscent of the School and their particular brand of manhandling.
"Hi, Fang," the paramedic smiled, "I'm Jake."
"Hi," he mumbled back.
"C'mon, then," Jake said, clapping a hand on his shoulder, "We'd best get going."
He lead Fang over to the ambulance, where he met Danielle, a blonde, female paramedic with a Southern accent, and the driver, an older man named Aaron, who looked somewhat like an ex-hippie with his long, white hair.
"So, this is your brother?" Jake asked as the van started up. He and Danielle were already busy, hooking Iggy up to all sorts of wires and tubes and god knows what else. It looked scary, almost inhuman, what they were doing to him.
"Kind of," Fang shrugged, "More like close friend."
"Oh, I see," Jake answered, "You guys grew up together?"
"Yeah, something like that." He answered, and remained silent for the rest of the time. Instead he listened to Aaron and Danielle jabber on about getting hot dogs later, and Jake put in his two cents, saying he'd like pizza instead. The conversation got very dull, very fast.
Which was why Fang let out a sigh of relief when they finally pulled in to the hospital, no matter how much he was dreading to have to let Iggy go off to the operating room, at least now he'd have the rest of the Flock with him.
"Just hang back," Aaron, the driver, said as he watched Danielle and Jake take the stretcher away, "I'll take you inside, cause it looks like they're going to be there for a while."
And boy was he right, there were all sorts of people swamping the ambulance bay. None of whom he knew. He assumed- hoped- they were all simply doctors and nurses, coming for a look see, but he did see a few cameras flash. Luckily, the owners of said cameras got a hard punch in the face, courteous of Mr. Bellmont's hired security guards. Thank god, the last thing they needed was some slime ball leaking them to the press.
When the bay had finally cleared and everything seemed to have settled down, Aaron led him through the double doors, up the stairwell, through the reception and a long hallway, more stairs, another set of doors, more hallways, and finally, to the waiting room. Where everyone else was sitting, looking very grave.
"They sent him in for surgery about thirty minutes ago," Max explained as he took a seat next to her.
"How long did they say they were going to be?"
"They said it might take hours."
"Will they let us stay that long?" Fang wondered aloud.
"One can only hope."
Iggy found himself walking down a long hallway of doors, just like the one he'd envisioned when Fang told him about his dream. Except in this hallway, all the doors were lit with light from the inside, and none had voices.
The last thing he remembered was hearing Ari's voice piercing through the air, "You know what they say, some things never die."
Then, he felt a great, throbbing pain in his head. And he was out like a light.
Now, he had no idea where he was, or what he was doing there. But he knew that he was alone, where no one else could reach him. Not Angel with her mind powers, not Max with her will power, not even Fang could reach him, wherever he was.
He looked up and down the hall, searching for a way out when suddenly-
It hit him, he could see. Wherever he was, he wasn't blind. He felt his breath pick up and his pulse heighten as he looked- yes, he really did look- down at his feet. And he saw, so sharply and vividly, a pair of Nike tennis shoes, the logo a bright orange colour. He looked down at his hands, and gently rubbed his forefinger and thumb together, to make sure it was real. And he felt it. His skin, but he could see it too. It was real.
It was real! He couldn't say it enough! It was real! He could really see
He looked to his right, trying to take everything in at once, and then he saw it. A great, silver key on the floor. In front of a door, with a matching handle and key hole. It was fairly obvious to Iggy, that the silver key was meant to unlock the silver door.
Carefully, very carefully, he kneeled to pick it up. The feel of the cold metal against his skin, it sent shivers up his spine. But he loved it, the way the light reflected off it, the way the intricate designs made marks on his fingers, it's weight in his hand. Mostly, he just loved seeing it.
He reached out and touched the keyhole, and the same shivering feeling ran up his spine. It was so eery, to see his hand, doing the very thing he'd pictured it doing for so long.
He had to admit, he somewhat was surprised when after he'd fit the key into the keyhole, the door opened. He'd fully expected it to be locked. Or worse. Most dreams- for that's what this had to be- had unexpected twists like that.
As the door began to open, a crack of sunlight flooded the hallway. As if the door let to the outside. The, he began to hear voices. His own, and Fang's. Younger, higher pitched.
"Let's go play tag!" his own voice.
"We can't play it with two people!" Fang.
"Then let's go find Max!" His. He was about to close the door, thinking how droll and boring it was, when he suddenly remembered, this had actually happened. He and Fang, at the age of eight, had sat outside in the sun for the very first time after a long, hard test on wings and weather conditions. He'd tried to get Fang to play with him, like the kids in their books did on sunny days when school was over.
"Max won't want to." Fang.
"Please..." The older Iggy watched from the doorway as the younger version of himself began to pout, sticking his lower lip out for effect.
"Okay, but only because I don't want to hear you whining about it," The young Fang said, trying to look tough but failing horribly. That was Fang for you, elder Iggy thought to himself, a heart of gold hidden behind a veil of darkness
But honestly, Iggy wouldn't have him any other way.
Fang couldn't help but think they looked like a very, very odd family, sitting in the hospital waiting room. Max, acting as mother and trying to keep the young ones from bursting into tears. Nudge, he supposed she was like a hysterical aunt, constantly talking and bursting into bouts of sobs. Angel was simply Angel, the sweet, not-quite-so innocent child. Gazzy, he was the older brother, trying to be strong. Fang supposed he looked the crazy old grandfather who everyone hated, the way he'd been brooding in the corner. Only coming out for updates provided by Dr. Martinez.
Who had, in fact, just visited to the give them the news that the surgery had finally come to an end. Six hours after it had started, but it had ended never the less. There was much rejoicing.
She'd also told them that, in both her opinion and Dr. Bellmont's, the surgery had gone extremely well, and that the doctor himself would be in to talk to them very, very soon.
"Maybe he'll be awake," Nudge said wistfully from where she was sitting on the floor, playing blocks (though attempting not to touch them, because her ability to sense emotions through objects had kicked in big time) with Angel in an attempt to keep her happy. It was, of course, an attempt in vain. She knew what was happening, she could read emotions. It was no mystery why she didn't want to play for once in her life.
"Maybe," Max agreed, though Fang could tell she was, as usual, lying through her teeth. And badly at that. Which, he supposed was a good thing.
"Maybe he'll even get to go back to the hotel with us, he always said he wanted to visit the Ritz," Gazzy added. He too was trying to make Angel and Nudge cheer up by telling jokes off of gum wrappers. No luck so far.
Not likely, Fang thought to himself. He'd gotten past the point of denial. He knew that whatever had happened was bad, bad enough that he probably wasn't going to wake up for a while. Not even if the surgery was successful. The best he could hope for was the assurance that he'd wake up, maybe within a few day's time.
"Hello?" Dr. Bellmont said as he entered, still wearing his surgical scrubs. He'd plastered a fake smile on his lips, but his eyes did seem very, very grave. He knew Nudge and Angel both sensed it, by the way the two girls choked back tears.
"Yes?" Max asked hopefully, refusing to the look the doctor in the eye, perhaps ignoring his look of impending doom.
"The surgery went well, very well," he said sitting down on the armchair across from them. Fang could almost see Max take a breath of reef, but perhaps she had forgotten that day five years ago, the surgery "had gone well." But there was a catch. Iggy was never going to be able to see again. There was always a catch.
"I'm afraid though..."
Something went wrong, Fang shivered.
"There are some things that surgery simply could not fix. We did what we could, fixing the fracture in his skull and patching up his ribs. But, unfortunately, I'm afraid he's still in a coma. And when he wakes up- if he wakes up- weren't not sure how extensive the damage will be."
"Damage?" Max said unsurely, her voice wavering ever so slightly. He could tell she was thinking the same thing, those poor kids you saw on TV with the pieces of their skulls missing. The ones that get blown up on road side bombs and can never tie their own shoes again.
A cold, empty feeling overcame Fang's chest and he had to resist the urge to simple walk out of the room and close his ears to Dr. Bellmont. Because he knew Iggy needed him, now more than ever.
The grey haired man looked at Max kindly, like Jeb had when he'd told them the news of Iggy's blindness, and placed a hand on her knee.
"We're not sure just how much he's going to remember," his voice was smooth and soft, as if he'd been rehearsing it, "He might remember something that happened when he was four, but have no recollection of anything since he was eight. Or he may have short term memory loss, forgetting where he put things and stuff like that. But we're also concerned with his coordination, whether or not he'll be able to walk a straight line or stand on one foot without falling. Honestly, there's a lot that could happen from an injury like this. He's lucky to be breathing."
Seeing the looks of horror painted across their faces, he added, "Maybe he'll come out of this with no problems at all, I can't predict what's going to happen."
He sat back in his chair, perhaps waiting for applause, someone to burst into tears. Something to happen. But everything was still. No one moved. Absolutely no one moved.
"Listen," he said after a long moment of awkward silence, "You kids should get some rest, come back tomorrow-"
"Sir," Max said, her voice strong, though a bit higher than usual, "That will be all. Thank you."
The doctor, who was wise enough to see when he wasn't wanted, nodded and slipped out of the room without another sound. Very appropriate for the moment.
But still, his words chilled Fang. What if he didn't remember anything? Or worse yet, he didn't remember them? Then what were they suppose to do? Go on living as if none of this had ever happened? As if they didn't love each other?
Love, it was another word that chilled Fang. It was a word he didn't understand completely. Perhaps because he'd never felt towards anyone, and no one had ever felt it towards him. And now that he was starting to understand it, the more it confused him. Like why he'd never had the guts to say it to Iggy before, or even to say "same here" or something when it was said to him. But when Max asked him how much he cared about Iggy, the words came tumbling out of his mouth, I love him.
"He's going to remember," Angel said surely, as she stood up from her game of blocks. She scurried over to him and motioned for the older boy to bend so she could whisper something in his ear. He obliged, and so she said, in a not so whispery voice:
"I heard him thinking during the surgery, and he remembers you. He remembers Max too, and he still loves you lots."
Dammit, he thought to himself, wincing as he caught Nudge and Gazzy's stares.
Angel, meanwhile, quickly realized what she had done, and had clamped her hands over her mouth.
"Sorry," he heard her muffled squeak, "Do you want me to undo it?"
I don't even want to know what that means, Fang told himself, shaking his head. Her powers were obviously growing. Mind reading at a distance, possibly even erasing memories. God knows what else she could do.
He cleared his throat, "Um, I guess there's something you two need to know..."
He winced at the sound of his own voice, thinking of how pathetic it would be if Iggy chose that exact moment to wake up and join them, before launching into a story. A shortened version of yet another story filled with emotions and long nights. His story. Iggy's story. Their story.