Hi All you wonderful readers! I can't tell you how thrilled I am by the response to this story. With luck it will keep the writer's block at bay and the ideas will keep on flowing. You all are awesome - please keep the reviews coming...
Disclaimer: see chapter 1. Still don't own 'em, boo hoo!
Dean is asleep again, exhausted from the ministrations of the three doctors. And now Sam is left to sit and ponder, worry and plan, as he waits in silence for word of Dean's diagnosis. They had been quick with the tests, doing what needed to be done before covering Dean's face and eyes back up with fresh gauze. But it hadn't been quick enough to keep Sam from seeing what he now wishes to never see again.
Dean's eyes were red and bloodshot, pussy, a cloud of creams and ointments pooling on the surface in a superfluous effort at healing the burned eyes on their own. At the time Dean was too out of it to truly comprehend what the sightlessness meant, but Sam knows all that will come in time.
The skin surrounding Dean's eyes - his cheeks and nose and temples - was all raw and blistered, the epicenter of the burns a bloodless white in stark contrast to the bright pink edges. Sam noticed, ironically, that the lashes and brows all seemed to be perfectly in tact, untouched by the searing acid that marred the rest of Dean's features.
Once the inspections were done Dr. Hartman had ordered another round of sedatives for Dean and called Sam out into the hall for a quick update. "We need some time to discuss our findings and settle on a plan of action," he explained as soon as the door closed behind the group. "If you want, you can get yourself something to eat. We should have some kind of answer for you by the time you return."
Sam shook his head. "I'm not leaving him alone," Sam stalwartly refused, leaving the doctor no other choice but to accept and move on. "I'll be here waiting for your return."
That had been two hours ago. Enough time for him to eat and return from four, maybe five, meals. And Sam is growing more and more impatient as he waits for the return of the doctors. Just as he is about to place a call in to the nurses station, as he's already done two other times, Dr. Hartman finally knocks on the opened door to Dean's room and steps inside.
Sam is on his feet in an instant, expectantly peeking around the corner for a sight of the other two doctors. He's disappointed to see that Hartman is alone.
"Dr. Korpashan and Dr. Reddig felt it would be better if we spoke with you alone before we explain the procedures to your brother. They felt it might help if you were prepared first. They're waiting in a room down the hall."
Nodding, Sam looks back to his sleeping brother, torn. He agrees that he should know what to expect first, maybe find a way to sugar coat the worst of the details when they tell Dean. But he doesn't want to leave him - can't stand the thought of Dean waking up alone, in the dark.
"The nurses are just outside, Sam." Hartman assures, immediately picking up on Sam's angst. "If he needs anything, they'll be here immediately."
Sam bites his lower lip, hands stuffed into his pockets, and finally consents. "I'll be right back, Dean," he says softly, brushing his hand against his brother's forehead. Dean sighs, but doesn't wake, and Sam takes that as his cue that Dean will be alright while he's gone.
He follows Dr. Hartman out the door, down the hall, and into a small room near the back of the building. Drs. Korpashan and Reddig are already inside, deep in a conversation that abruptly ends the minute Sam steps through the door. They nod at him, and he nods back.
"Have a seat, Sam," Hartman says.
He sits cautiously, never fully breaking his gaze from the three doctors. Somehow he knows the news won't be what he wants to hear.
Dr. Reddig speaks first, clearly more eager to break his news than Dr. Korpashan. He has a loud, grating voice that directly matches his ego. "Sam, we've gone over all the results of the tests we ran on Dean. We have determined that surgery is the best option we have. An OR has already been scheduled for tomorrow morning. Dr. Korpashan and I will work together to try and repair the damage that has been done."
Sam lets out a breath of relief, finding hope in the surgeon's words.
"The damage to his face, while it appears bad, can very likely be fixed with skin grafts," he continues, pulling out a large color poster with the stages of a graft procedure. "I will remove the damaged tissue from his cheeks and temple, and replace it with viable tissue from the thigh and buttox. With any luck the two will meld together, and he should have minimal scarring."
Sam actually smiles, relief at knowing there is hope for the scarring allowing his mind to wander to the relentless teasing he can fling at his brother for the fact that, soon, he will be wearing parts of his ass on his face.
But then he looks over at Dr. Korpashan, sees the stoicism still displayed against her creamy, milk chocolate complexion, and knows that the good news is about to cease. He doesn't want to know, and remains stubbornly silent, waiting for the ocular surgeon to break the uneasy silence.
She inches closer to him, clasps her hands together, and looks Sam straight in the eye with an expression that screams I'm sorry. I don't want to do this. "While Dr. Reddig is working on the facial surgery, I will focus on Dean's eyes," she begins, voice soft yet solid. She may be hesitant to tell Sam her news, but she is still professional.
"There is a procedure that uses a laser to zap away scarring on the surface of the eye. With any luck, this will restore Dean's sight."
"And without luck?"
"Sam," Dr. Korpashan sighs and looks away, down at her perfectly groomed fingernails. "There is a very good chance that the burns go deeper than just the surface. Alkalines can be extremely abrasive, dangerous. And the length of time the chemicals were on your brother's eyes - you just need to prepare yourselves for the possibility that this might not work. I'm going to do everything in my power to help your brother, but he may be blind permanently. I'm so sorry."
There is a pause, a deadly silence, as Sam soaks in the information. He takes a minute to study each doctor in turn, leaving no feature unnoted, ensuring that his dangerous gaze gets through to each of the three surgeons in the room. It's a rarity that Sam brings out this side of himself, but now seems appropriate. Now, when Dean's livelihood - quite possibly his sanity - hang in the balance. He wants to make sure that his point gets across, that there's no room for questions or pause.
"He needs to see," Sam growls. He sees Dr. Korpashan shrink back, flinch, but he ignores it and the feeling of guilt that overwhelms him at tearing into the doctor. It's not her fault, and a part of him knows that, but it's Dean. "My brother can not be blind. You get your laser treatments or whatever else it's going to take, and you fix him. You fix his face, you fix his eyes. Do whatever you damn well need to do to get him right again. And you damn well better not come tell me after the surgery that he's blind. You got that?"
Unsure of how to react to this change in Sam, Dr. Korpashan simply blinks and takes another step back. The legal instruction she's had keeps her from confirming or denying Sam his order to save Dean's eyesight. It's a promise she can't make - no matter how many times Sam threatens her.
Behind Korpashan, Reddig and Hartman have taken a stance one to either side of her shoulders, both now just as eager as Korpashan to escape the room. Reddig shows his true colors, a coward underneath the faux exterior of a wolf, as he lays downcast eyes to the floor and his feet. He can dish it out, but he can't take the heat. Hartman, on the other hand, seems unfazed by Sam's outburst. He steps forward, meeting Sam's gaze, and jumps to his fellow doctor's defense.
"Sam, Dr. Korpashan is going to do everything she possibly can to save Dean's eyesight," Hartman says in a low, soothing voice. "Dr. Reddig and I will be in the OR with her. We're all going to fight for this to be a success."
The fight has already left Sam - come and gone in a flash of What the fuck am I doing?, and he breathes away the angst of having just threatened the very doctors that will hold his brother's life in their hands. This isn't him. He's not the fighter, the instigator - Dean is. He sighs, hands coming up to cover his face before slowly sliding away. "You're right. I'm sorry," Sam says in a weak voice. "It's just–"
"We understand," Dr. Korpashan says, her voice back to it's soft confidence that had Sam trusting her when they first met. "You're scared for your brother. You want him to be whole again. We get it."
Sam nods.
"We will do what we can. That much I can promise you." Patting Sam on the arm, Dr. Korpashan walks past him and begins to lead to team from the room. "We need to explain this to Dean, now. You will have to remain calm - for him."
"I can do that," Sam assures as he follows the doctors out of the room.
And he does.
Dean is still too tired, too drugged, to fully comprehend the information that is fed to him several minutes later. He gets that he will be in surgery, and that it has something to do with the pain in his face and eyes. That's all Sam feels Dean needs to know - forcing him to understand the exact details will not change the fact that the surgery will happen. And as childlike as the medicine and weakness are making Dean out to be, discussing the possibility of permanent damage is not something Sam wants to do. He glosses over it when Dr. Korpashan issues that warning to his whimpering brother, quickly changing the subject and trying to instill confidence and hope.
The surgeons all seem to get the point, and they leave soon afterward, telling the brothers to get some rest, that they would be seeing them bright and early the next morning. Sam ushers them from the room only to find that Dean is already asleep before he can even think about issuing words of comfort about the impending surgery.
Dean sleeps through the rest of the night, waking for only seconds a few times during the night, and going right back to sleep at Sam's reassuring words. But Sam does not sleep at all, and his words are just that - words. They may work on Dean, too far into a haze to hear the apprehension that sits just on the edge, but Sam finds it hard to embrace the reassurances. He's nervous and uncertain of the outcome, and is already looking ahead to a future with a blind Dean despite the mental kicks of Don't think like that, you bastard, that he tries to yield on his overtaxed mind.
When they return Dean to the room after surgery Sam is off in the corner waiting, tapping his foot nervously and constantly checking his watch. He jumps up the second he sees the corner of the gurney clear the doorway, and crosses the room to Dean's side.
"How'd it go?" Sam asks anxiously, addressing the two nurses, orderly, and two doctors that are all following Dean and his gurney into the room. His brother's face is noticeably puffy and swollen beneath the mesh gauze they have wrapped around the upper portion of his face for breathability, but the blisters are now gone, replaced now by a series of intricate stitches so tiny Sam has to squint to see them. Dean's eyes are still fully covered by cotton gauze, so Sam can't see how they now look, and the expression Dr. Korpashan wears on her face is so veiled he has no idea what to expect.
"He's going to be a bit groggy for a while, but he came through the surgery with flying colors." She says, putting on a tight smile. The calm in her voice seems forced, as though she's hiding something.
"That's good then, right?" Sam begs, too afraid to ask anything different. "He'll be okay then? He can see?"
"Let's go out in the hall," Dr. Korpashan says, nodding to the nurses and orderly to tell them to stay. "We can talk while they get Dean settled back into bed." Sam follows her out the door, fidgeting nervously with the hem of his shirt. Dr. Reddig follows both of them.
No sooner has the door closed then Sam is demanding answers, eyes darting nervously between the two doctors. He wants the good news to come from Dr. Korpashan. Dean can live with a few scars; he can't live with being blind.
But if Sam is honest with himself he knows how this conversation will play out. And it's not long before he hears it exactly as he expects it.
"I think Dean's face will heal just fine," Dr. Reddig announces proudly. He might be a little sore for a few days where we removed tissue from his thigh and hip to place it on his face, but there should be minimal scarring in either location."
"Thank you." Sam sighs in relief before looking expectantly to Korpashan, waiting for similar news.
She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Sam. I tried everything I could, but the damage is just too severe. With luck, Dean will be able to distinguish between light and dark. But he won't ever see again. I'm so sorry."
The words slam into Sam like a kick to the solar plexis. He gasps in a quick breath, hugging his arms to his waist, before sinking bonelessly to the ground. The only thing that saves him from complete collapse is the wall behind him and Dr. Reddig's quick grasp of his arm. His vision spins, mouth goes dry, and before he knows it he's fending off dry heaves from a stomach that hasn't held food in well over 24 hours.
"No!" he cries, simple as that. As though pleading for a reprieve from the situation might reverse the words and bring everything back to the way it was. Bring Dean back to the way he was.
"This isn't the end of the world for him, Sam."
Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Sam looks up to see Dr. Korpashan crouched down beside him, imploring eyes looking him straight on. He has to give her credit for the genuineness that emotes from her small frame - it's clear that she feels just as bad over not being able to help her young patient as Sam feels over the news. But that doesn't make it any better in the long run. Her feeling bad doesn't make Dean see.
"We will set Dean up in a rehabilitation hospital," she continues, unaware that her words are barely sinking in. "You will be surprised at how quickly the other senses begin to enhance when one is gone. Dean will be up and around, and almost as self-sufficient as he used to be. He'll be back to his old self in no time."
Sam lets out a hysterical snort, but quickly reels it in. He can't let the doctor know what he's thinking, can't let her realize just how much is about to change in their lives. How does he drive his car if he can't see? How does he learn the layout of our motel rooms? We move around so much. And playing pool? Poker? Not to mention the hunt.
"I can tell how much you care about your brother, Sam. I have no doubt that you'll be there for him every step of the way. And that's half the battle, now isn't it?"
"I can't do this right now," Sam snaps, standing quickly and not caring that his sudden movement has made the woman doctor tip backwards in her haste to get out of his way. "I can't talk about this right now. I need to see my brother."
He doesn't wait for permission, just pushes through the wide door to Dean's room and shoves his way past the group in the room. Behind him, Dr. Korpashan and Dr. Reddig follow tentatively behind, motioning for the nurses and the orderly to back off. They are stiff and uncertain as they wait to see what Sam will do, breath held in anticipation of a meltdown.
"Dean. Dean, it's Sam, can you hear me?" In stark contrast to the out of control storm cloud that crossed the room mere seconds earlier, as soon as Sam reaches Dean he is the picture of calm and reserved. His hand brushed gently through his brother's greasy, unwashed hair, easily levering over the newly repaired flesh a few inches below.
In the bed, Dean shifts just a bit but doesn't reply. His fingers twitch, and Sam reaches down to grab one hand within his own. He squeezes gently.
"Dean, I know you're still sleepy from the surgery. You just rest. Relax. I'll be here when you wake up. We'll fix this, Dean. I promise we'll fix this."
Proximity to his brother gives Sam strength that he often lacks when they are separated. The newfound touch he's established, despite Dean's weakness, gives Sam the confidence to once again face the two doctors that have yet to speak.
"Is there anything else I should know?" he finally asks. His eyes speak the words he can't say: Don't tell me more than I can handle right now.
"Only that your brother is being weaned slowly from the heavy pain killers to a much milder form now that much of the damage has been removed or repaired," Reddig says. "He should be waking up from the effects of the sedatives within the next few hours, and will be much more lucid than he was before - still tired, but more aware."
"That's good." Sam nods, only cringing internally at knowledge of the conversation he doesn't want to hold with a brother who won't want to hear it. "I want to be the one to give him this news."
Both doctor's nod in agreement, but it's Korpashan who speaks. "He will have questions, Sam. And fears. There will be answers you can't give him. If you need anything - please have us paged. We can be here in a matter of minutes."
"If I feel we need either of you for something, you'll know." Sam says coldly. Right now, he's feeling as though they really haven't contributed anything to Dean's recovery - Korpashan in particular - and the questions he figures Dean will ask can't be answered by a doctor. He doesn't see them needing either of the two doctors in front of him. They're well past modern medicine, now. Now, Dean needs a miracle.
So here's a question to ponder - Between this story and the deaf Dean story (that will be written eventually) I plan to keep him maimed in one and to cure him in the other. I need to know your preference on that one so I have an idea where to take this. When making your decision, keep in mind that I will find some way to adapt Dean's abilities so he can still do most of what he used to do, regardless of which injury remains. So think about which you think would be more fun to follow and which you would prefer he be healed from and let me know! Thanks bunches guys...