A/N: Have any of you ever seen "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly"? French biopic film, really quite good...Anyway, this is in the same stream-of-consciousness narrative as "TDB&TB". Oh, and I know most of you do good reviews anyway but I'm expecting a minimum of 50 words in this review. Not 5, not 15...Fifty. Not naming anyone. Nope. Not at all.

Otherwise, read, review & enjoy. ~ Mika

Between "Deny Thy Father..." and "The Fire..."

"Jakuelynn...?"

Oh, go away.

"Can she hear me?"

Yeah, but I'm ignoring it. Also, it sounds like I'm in a bath and you're speaking to me. I'm not actually in a bath, am I?

"Her vitals are up. She's alive at least."

Oh, what fortune. Hang on...It's dark. They're talking about vitals. Last time I saw or heard anything I was sprawled over the hot, golden Wasteland sands after a Metal Head had tried to snack on my arm, my dominant one at that –

Metal Head.

Oh shit. Please don't let me have lost my arm. Right, let's get those eyes open...Precursors, they're heavy. 'Kay, Nel, you can do it. You've lifted weights heavier than this. Three...two...one...That's it, you're halfway there...shit NO. Don't you dare slam down on me again!

"She's responding!"

Dad? What are you doing here? You don't even have your Morph with you. Go back to Sandover, Dad, the Metal Heads are coming –

"I believe she is."

Damascus Mar Hagai, you have children to look after, my son included. Go back to Sandover, and whilst you're there, take Dad with you. Jakuelynn, don't shake your head, it hurts like a bitch. Try again. C'mon. Giving up didn't get you anywhere but depressed. You should know that by now. Three...two...one...AAOOOHHH, LIGHT, IT HURTS.

"Jakuelynn? Nel? Nelly, are you there?"

Calm down, Dad. I'm fine. At least I will be once this light stops burning. Distract yourself, Nel. Move your left arm. Check it's still there...Good. Good girl. I can feel some response there. I can't have lost it, or worse comes to the worst, I haven't lost it all. Have I?

"Dad?" Oh yay, I'm croaking. I'm also in what I recognise as being Sandover General Hospital and it's fifteen hours into the day. "Damas? What..."

"Metal Head ambush, little one," Jak replies. I don't even care that he called me 'little one' even though I'm half a foot taller than him. "You...ah..." His face goes red and he shuts up. Normally I love it when Dad's embarrassed but this time I worry.

"What?" Time to turn to my brother. "Damas, what?"

"Your left arm...suffered badly from the attack," my normally-eloquent brother says haltingly. Great – if HIS speech is halting, it's bad. "In fact...the left side of your body up to your hip suffered." He looks down. I look with him. Sure enough, I've magically turned half-mummy over the last however-long-I-was-out.

"How long have I been out for?" I ask, dreading the answer.

"Two days," Jak replies from the other side. "You...were...pretty badly injured..."

I don't say anything as I move my head up my body, eyes scanning for something that's missing. My mouth jumps into action before my brain has time to think.

"Where's my arm?"

A silence. Nooo, don't give me silence. Also, where's Daxter? He usually has something to say. C'mon Dad, Damas? Location of my left arm! Answers on a postcard.

"In the stomach of the Metal-Saur who attacked," Jak replies quietly. Ding ding, first prize to the Crown Prince. I look at my left shoulder, which has a white bandaged bit sticking out of it...but no arm. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. My left arm, the dominant hand? Gone? Couldn't that fucking creature have bitten off my slightly-more-useless right arm?

Damas looks at me, something on his face, something which irritates me...and no, it's not a dribble of Eco either.

"What..." I whisper, my throat suddenly very dry. This can't be happening. I swear I killed them all, the Nova should have sorted them all out! Also... "Why can I still feel my arm?" I waggle my stump to prove my point. Damas lowers his hand, accidentally knocking my "hand" as he did. "Owch, that hurt!"

"Phantom limb syndrome," the grown men say simultaneously, Damas following this with an apology. Fuck's sake, Damascus, no apologies, I can't process these.

"Huh?" I reply, before realising: Oh great, this is where Damas butts in and gets all medical on my arse.

"When a loss of limb occurs, the amputee often experiences sensations as if that limb is still attached to the body. It has been said that this is related to the nerve map of the body; the brain sends information regardless of whether the limb is attached or not,"

Nope. Means nothing to me.

"That means?"

"Your brain thinks that your arm is still there even if your eyes see that it isn't. That's probably why you cried in pain just now,"

"Yeah, cause Damas knocked my hand," I say grumpily, folding my "arms". Two people come in...Nurses. No ordinary nurses, I see. One's dressed differently to the other. Please don't – ah, they bowed. It's excruciating when they do. On the other hand, at least they haven't –

"Your Highness...I see you're awake."

Yes, she addressed me by my official title. I wave my stump dismissively, pain shooting and enveloping it as I did.

"It's Jakuelynn. Jakuelynn Mar...Ghosten." I'd never used my "married" name publicly before, even though Rho knew it. "So my entire left side is fucked up, huh,"

The doctor gave a small chuckle. "If you'd rather put it like that, then yes. We could not save your arm, so we had to amputate it before it developed an infection. Your lung was punctured, your ribcage was broken and your stomach suffered a small rupture, but we're fixing those as we speak." She gestures to the wires – oh look, I have wires going around and inside of me. Didn't even feel them, let alone realise they were there – and resumes. "You also have a supply of morphine with you, so if the pain from your injuries becomes too much, just grasp the box and press the button here. See it...?"

Yes, I see it. I nod to tell her this. Now I think about it, the pain is returning...uh oh...don't think about it, Nel.

"You've been booked in tomorrow morning at eight for cybernetic reconstruction of your left side including your arm – "

Whoa. I'm going to be cyberised?

" – and one of your ovaries was also destroyed in the attack, which significantly reduces your chances of having children – "

That's good, I don't want any more children. One baby son with Channeller powers and additional Dark and Light sides is enough.

"Wait." I have to speak; I have to echo. "I'm...going to be cyberised?" Visions of Roah's father and Sig flashed into my head.

"You don't have to worry, it's going to be organic cyberisation," the doctor explains kindly as if she can read my mind. Maybe she can. The last woman who had my life in her hands could.

"What does that mean?"

"It means it will have the appearance of a human limb," Damas explains, in the plainest English to come out of his mouth yet.

Ah. I see. "How long will it take?"

The doctor's face set in an expression I couldn't read. "It depends. The damage is fairly extensive and complex, so it could take a few hours, it could take all day. We won't do it all in one go, however," she was quick to assure me. "We'll work on a section at a time,"

"Will I have drugs for it?" I want to know. I hate hospitals as it is and right now I want to go home to Roo but by the looks of things I'll be here for weeks.

"You will,"

"And after the procedures?" I have to know. I'm anal about these kinds of things. I hope that's where the whole sorry parade ends –

"After the procedures, which should take no longer than two weeks, you'll begin a six-week course of physiotherapy,"

The parade marcheth on, I guess. Eight weeks. Eight weeks until I can go home. Fuck. I flopped back down in the bed, sighing. Ow, my phantom arm.

This is going to be a very long hospital stay...