Chapter 11

Very early the next morning, once again under Steve's watchful eye, Michael removed the piggyback of sedation from Jaime's IV set-up. He'd explained to Steve and Mark (in a hallway conference, with his own back to the nursery cubicle) that he was leaving the painkillers in place - out of necessity, of course - and was only removing the drug that served no purpose other than keeping her asleep. It was still too risky to keep her awake for longer than it would take for an initial assessment but it was important that they find out a few things as quickly as possible now. Could Jaime hear, understand and respond to simple commands - to blink, to move her left hand? Could she speak? It was quite possible that Jaime would initially experience at least some degree of aphasia, where the words got lost somewhere between her brain and her lips...where even her brain might not be giving her the correct words...or where she simply did not comprehend her surroundings at all. He reminded Steve that Corinth would be performing Jaime's waking studies (passing the detailed results along to him) and he would examine her only when Jaime was deeply asleep, under the effects of sedation.

Michael cautioned Steve that true understanding - and speech - might not return for a few more days, until after the first round of regeneration. One round might be all that was required but there would likely be at least two...and possibly several. ''But Jaime is not an experiment to me,'' Michael concluded. ''She's a human being...not a lab rat. My research is complete and if I had the slightest doubt about this treatment's efficacy and its effectiveness, I wouldn't be putting Jaime on the operating table. You will have your wife back.''

It was time for him to leave; he and Steve nodded their grudging (and temporary) respect to each other and Michael turned the care of his patient over to Corinth for the time being.

Nothing seemed to be happening. Corinth told Steve (in hushed tones, in the doorway) that it could take anywhere from 15 or 30 minutes to hours (or longer) for Jaime to awaken...if she was able. Steve could help his wife along, encourage her progression toward what they hoped would be true wakefulness, by talking softly to her and making repeated (or continuous) light, gentle contact. ''Verbal, physical or both,'' Corinth summed up. ''Try to keep up some form of contact as often and for as long as you can manage, even if it's 'only' holding her hand.''

While he wasn't normally one to 'talk a blue streak', Steve would do anything to help Jaime - absolutely anything, even pour his heart and soul into talking to her...in front of half a dozen people. Mark was still in his corner, sitting in mostly silent support. Corinth would be watching Jaime's monitors and assessing her (still unconscious) responses as he deemed necessary and although the two 'nurses' had moved to a more tactful spot in the hallway to allow Oscar a seat (and to give the cubicle's occupants just a little more privacy), they were still within earshot.

Steve focused his gaze on Jaime's face, willing her eyes to open and meet his, as he began - and kept up - a loving, heartfelt patter. There was the way they'd met, for starters. He verbally ticked off every item on his 3rd grade lunch tray, after he'd taken her dare and loaded it up. He'd consumed a hot dog, a hamburger, PB&J, potato chips, potato salad, fritos, an apple, a banana and the better part of a slice of chocolate cake before his stomach began to rebel. Stubbornly, ''Because I couldn't let a little kindergartner win'', he'd polished off the remnants...and soon regretted it. But (he reminded his wife now) he'd only 'ratted her out' a few years ago. Until then, his mother had thought he'd simply been a glutton by his own idea and his own choice.

He talked to her about what a spitfire she'd been, even at five years old...how (instead of flailing helplessly) she'd kicked at those bullies' kneecaps when they'd dared try to lift her by her pigtails and gotten herself released even as Steve had still been rushing across the playground to come to her aid!

Steve talked about the way she hadn't taken any guff - or accepted any ill-treatment - from him, either. He and Jaime had become fast friends, playing together nearly every day after school at his house or hers...but when she'd joyfully come bouncing up to him on the playground one day during school and in front of his friends, he'd tried to take the 'cool' way out by telling her to go back to her blankie and bottle...even mocking her tears of hurt and anger with a loud 'WAH, WAH' as she'd run away from him...and all the way home from school. Steve reminded his wife that he'd run to her house right after school to apologize and (hopefully) to play...and his efforts at juvenile reconciliation were rewarded...by a bucket of sand dumped over his head.

Then...did he really see it? The slightest of smiles, passing fleetingly across Jaime's lips? He went with that, played off of what had gotten the reaction. ''Yeah, a whole bucket of the stuff - and you packed it in there, too! You're must've been building bricks before I got there, huh? So I guess you could really say that you hit me in the head with a brick, isn't that right Sweetheart?''

The smile was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but Steve was undeterred. He talked to Jaime about how they'd built their first treehouse together a few summers later...and Russ slid quietly into the cubicle, just inside the door, in time to hear how Steve had covered for Jaime later that same summer when she'd 'run away' from home and hid out up in the treehouse. He'd reached the part where he'd snuck food and a blanket up there to her when she was too stubborn to go home even at nightfall - and how she'd never known he snuck out of the house many times that night to make sure she was still safe. He'd taken her home in the morning, helping her to face a livid and terror-stricken pair of parents...when...suddenly...

Jaime opened her eyes! She didn't blink though, when Steve leaned in to kiss her - or even when the same reaction was requested by Corinth. Jaime's eyes remained wide open but seemingly unaware, with no comprehension, as she slowly scanned the room. She 'saw' Corinth, Oscar, Mark and even Steve - with seemingly zero recognition. Then her eyes came to rest on Russ - and she gripped Steve's hand tightly. Jaime's eyes met her husband's with true recognition and something else...urgency. When she knew she had his attention, she turned her eyes to again look at Russ and then back at Steve. He could feel her fingers moving in his palm and, startled by the unexpected action, he looked down. When Jaime knew Steve had seen what she was trying to do, she turned her eyes again onto Russ.

In his palm, hidden by most of his hand from the view of the room, Jaime's fingers had formed into a 'gun'...and taken a 'shot'.

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