Disclaimer: S. Myer owns all, but what I wouldn't give for a Jasper of my very own-sigh.
A/N- *deep breath* I can't remember the last time I fretted over a chapter as much as I have this one. I know, I say that every time, but seriously, I have no nails left, my lips are sore from biting them and I texted or called Dannie a thousand times a day. It's amazing she hasn't changed her phone number. Her opinion and faith in my work is why this story is here.
For those daring enough to read this and suffer through with the boys, a huge thank you! I can't say it enough. Not sure a tissue warning is necessary for this chapter…I know it got to me in a few places.
Big thanks to OnTheTurningAway for her beta, and to Sasha for her insight.
Now Edward pov
"**~~**"
If on a winter's night my life hadn't changed in an instant…
"**~~**"
Things were clouded and hazy.
It was like everything was just out of my grasp. Even if I squinted my eyes and reached out as far as I could, I still couldn't touch them, or even make out what 'they' were. A thick fog wrapped itself around me, encasing me in a mist I longed to be free of. The feeling of confusion and heaviness that enveloped me was far too strong for me to push through. Time had no meaning, and I was vaguely aware that it must be passing but…
My eyes, no matter my efforts, refused to open, my ears refused to hear, and I would once again succumb to the welcoming darkness that enticed me with promises of relief and rest.
Occasionally there were presences.
Clinical, gentle, simple.
They were brief, quickly assessing before skittering away.
Love and sadness and familiarity.
Long spans of my empty time were spent in the warmth of these presences. My mind called to me to wake up, to acknowledge them, but my body dragged me unwillingly further into the dense fog.
Another presence, alone.
Warm and strong, loving and calm.
I couldn't see or hear him but I knew it was him.
The senses of security and comfort that surrounded me were undeniably from him. His presence was like no other that had neared me. Pooling all of my energy, what little I had, into a single finger drained me, but I had to let him know I felt him, acknowledge his presence with a sign. My lips were still and my eyes refused to open, but my heart swelled in my chest. I could feel the blood rushing through my arms, all the way down to my hand that I forced to moved.
The sense of him neared, overwhelming me, my heart beating right under his heat.
And when it was gone, I fell into a blankness that seemed deeper than before. As the long tentacles of the emptiness gripped me, pulling me from the slight grasp his presence had had on me, my mind called to him.
Stay.
Help.
But it was gone and I sank.
When I gave in, letting the fog settle back over my mind, I had no focus, no clear thought, only vague images and flashes of a girl and man and a woman, of a car and cold.
Of him.
The images of him were clearer, not as faded and muted as the ones before, but still opaque.
I was sitting, someplace bright and warm, and he was floating toward me with tan skin and blond waves. In my chest, my heart abnormally skipped a beat and I tried to pull my eyes away but he held them until he sat down. It was a new sensation, an attraction I had never felt before.
We were both floating, our skin was wet and we were surrounded by a cool blue and gold heat. Soft lips met mine for the first time; large hands tested the texture of my hair, heartbeats skipped together as his chest pressed to mine.
I was floating on something warm and downy, my body feeling more relaxed than it ever had before, something was cooling on the bare goose-bumped skin of my stomach. He looked up at me from between my legs, long hair cover his eyes, but not his blush or smug smile. Not just skipping that time, my heart was pounding so hard it almost burst from me.
The grieving presences returned, magnified and multiplied from earlier, scaring me. I let the heaviness coax me under its blanket with promises of protection.
From what, I didn't know.
Something flickered. For the first time, I sensed a change in light. Dark shadows crossed and ran with each other, teasing me with their dance across my eyelids.
Sounds, muffled and mumbled, began to reach my ears. I concentrated on the noises, trying to identify them, trying to figure out….
"Edward?"
It was a voice, one I knew.
I felt constricted, held down by a powerful strength, like someone had tied me to a bed. Every part of me felt stiff, my nerves gradually became less weighed down and more attentive, but still weakened by the long time in the darkness.
Mom.
"Can you hear me? It's mom."
Focusing every ounce of determination in me, I finally felt my mouth form a word, "Mom." My own voice sounded foreign, raspy and rough.
"Oh my God," her delicate voice replied with more relief than I had ever thought possible. Strong hands gripped one of mine and I felt their warmth. "I'm here, sweetheart, I'm here," she sobbed, suddenly sounding sad as well as relieved.
Wanting to turn to her, I took a deep breath and let it out before attempting to shift my body, and failing. My head was too heavy, too secured to the blackness to move it. Refocusing my efforts, I slowly, so very slowly, opened my eyes.
It was dark, just like it had been before my eyes were opened, only I could see dim lights in the distance and blurry ones up close.
Sighing, she stood up and leaned over me so I could see her without having to turn my head. Her hand went to my hair and I felt her brush it off my face, her hands remaining in it longer than usual.
"Edward," she repeated as I tried to blink away the blurriness that seemed to encompass everything near and far. "Sweetheart, I'm here."
Feeling the dry, cracked skin of my lips when I licked them, I tried speaking again. "Where…" I choked out.
When she ran the back of her hand down my cheek, I felt pain and I flinched. "Sorry," she said, jerking her hand back. "We're in a hospital in Seattle."
More confused than ever, the murkiness of my brain unable to understand what she was saying, I forced my eyes completely open and I saw her for the first time.
Her face was red and puffy, and she had dark circles under her wet eyes. Long, brown hair was pulled back, messy pieces sticking out around her face. She looked drained and gaunt.
She was sick and we were here for her. My heart raced with the horrible thoughts of her diagnosis.
Sensing my confusion, she clarified. "You were in an accident on New Year's Eve. Do you remember?" she hedged gently, the expression on her face completely understanding if I said no.
New Year's Eve.
I had worked the night shift and cleaned up after work. Snow had gathered on the ground when I left, and I started the car, heading toward Jasper's, we were going to….
Oh my God.
Jasper.
Closing my eyes, I was assaulted by unwelcome images, ones no longer dulled by the blackness.
Bright lights blinding me, a blaring horn, screeching tires, squealing brakes, crunching metal and shattering glass.
It had been loud and quick and painful.
I nodded. "Yeah, a little."
Something wet touched my face, but until she gently wiped it away with her thumb I hadn't realized it was a tear.
"Jasper?" I slurred, a clenching around my chest stealing my breath. One of her hands squeezed mine and she dabbed at my face with a tissue.
"He's fine, sweetheart. He was here earlier."
"I know," I whispered, almost proud of myself for recognizing his soul even when consciousness had eluded me, keeping mine at a forced distance. She smiled down at me, but it wasn't her usual bright smile, it was weak and contorted. "Is he here?"
"No, his mother had to go back to work, they left this afternoon, but I will call her and let her know you're awake." She sat back down next to me, and I relaxed, my head finally falling to the side so I could see her.
Gradually, I began to feel my muscles again, although I still lacked any control over them. I felt her hand covering mine, I felt a sting on my left arm and a dull ache in my head. Tears steadily streamed down her face as she took a few deep breaths.
"Mom, what's wrong?"
She ignored me and reached for her bag. "I'm going to call your father and let him know you're awake."
"Where is he?" My voice still sounded weak and rough, but with each word that passed, I began to feel more confident.
"He's at the hotel. He stayed with you last night, but tonight I had him take Alice to get some rest and I stayed," she explained before dialing his number. She spoke in hushed tones, her hand running through her hair a few times before I heard her say 'okay, see you soon', and then sitting down and putting her phone away.
"He's on his way. He said to tell you he loves you," she said, giving me a genuine smile for the first time. "Why don't you rest until he gets here," she suggested, her hand stroking my left arm. Nodding, I sighed and felt…nothing. I closed my eyes, the numbness trying to claim me again.
"**~~**"
"Edward?" The voice was deeper, the hand holding mine rougher while another methodically skimmed my face and arms. I felt small, cool touches on my wrist, fingers and face.
They seemed feminine.
Then a small voice spoke. "His vitals are strong, Dr. Cullen. His blood pressure is elevated, but that's to be expected with the sedative he's been on."
He cleared his throat, something he always did when he was nervous, and repeated my name. They were heavy, but I managed to open my eyes and slowly began to focus on him next to me.
"If you need anything, just beep," the tiny voice said quietly.
"Thanks, Sandy," my father replied. Then a girl passed in front of me, offering me a glance and sympathetic smile before she was gone. The room was still dark, the only light slicing through the blackness when she had opened the door but it was extinguished when the door slid closed.
"Hey, son," he said as he stood next to me, looking down at me. "How ya doing? Any pain?"
Oddly enough, no.
I shook my head, and just as I did so, a sharp pain stabbed my forehead and I gasped. But my head was the only place I felt anything.
"Try to stay still, you suffered a concussion, but the headache should start to ease soon. We're keeping it dark in here to ease the light sensitivity."
"Where's mom?" I asked, looking around the room as much as I could, but I was barely able to make out anything past my father's form. "She's in the waiting room with Alice. I'll get her in a minute, I just wanted to check you over."
Of course he did, it was his job. Any injuries I had suffered as a child were always tended to by my father; bumps, bruises, cuts and scrapes. Even the broken arm I had in third grade had been casted by him. He knew every scar on my body as well as Jasper and I did.
While I recalled fondly how I had gotten each wound, he always remembered them by the technical terms. The length of the 'abrasion' not cut, the 'swelling', not bump, the 'fracture', not break. 'contusion', not bruise. To me it was not that I broke my arm, but that I had fallen ten feet to do it, something I was pretty damn proud of. I had survived, and even got a cast as my reward.
"Are you up for a talk?" he asked, his solid hand giving my shoulder a squeeze. I imagined they would want to know about the accident. It wasn't a talk I was looking forward to, not even sure I could recall what had happened in detail, but I wanted to get it over with. I hated disappointing my parents; the look my mother would give me for my carelessness would haunt me forever.
Resigned, I nodded and he gave me an encouraging smile. "I'll go get your mother," he said and then disappeared.
Alone in the room, I glanced around, my eyes having adjusted to the darkness. I saw a table near the bed, a chair and a large door, which I assumed was the bathroom. On my right were windows overlooking… I couldn't quite remember where my mother had said we were.
Wait.
In the distance I saw the distinct shape of the Space Needle.
How the hell had I ended up in Seattle? My accident had been in Forks.
My breath hitched in my throat and my heart began to pound in my chest as the panic set in. Just I went to push myself up, the door opened and my parents walked in. My mother was in my father's embrace as he led her to me.
"Why am I in Seattle?" I asked, grabbing the bedrail with my left hand to pull myself up. My body felt so weak and…heavy.
My mother rushed to my side, grabbing my hand. "Lie down, you're going to hurt yourself."
Somewhat comforted by her motherly tone, I lay back and relaxed. My father walked to my other side and took my hand in both of his.
"Edward," he began, his hands holding mine. "We've got something to tell you."
Frantically, I glanced between my sobbing mother and weeping father and my eyes grew wide.
"The accident was bad, you were hit head on," he paused, taking a breath. "You had your seatbelt on, but the impact of the collision was enormous and… you were severely injured. We kept you sedated to ease the burden on your body."
I could tell he was trying very hard to use terms I could understand, but the doctor in him kept trying to come out.
"Dad?"
Against my mother's wishes, I attempted to sit up again, using my abdominal muscles instead of my arms. My father's hand was on my shoulder, pushing me back down.
"Don't, Edward. Listen to me," he pleaded quietly. "Son, you suffered a fracture in your spine near your L1. They did surgery but they weren't able to repair the damage. I'm afraid…" he stopped as the father in him overwhelmed the doctor and a sob escaped him.
Tears streamed down my cheeks and I had no idea why. I had never been so scared in my life. I couldn't remember ever seeing my father cry.
My mother took over for him. "Sweetheart, the doctors did everything they could, but…well," she hesitated and inhaled deeply. Then looking into my eyes, she said the words that would forever define me. "You're paralyzed from the waist down."
Paralyzed.
Waist down.
I had heard her but I didn't believe her.
"I don't understand," I said. When I had first been freed of the darkness, even briefly, reality had been veiled, my body still under the influence of the blackness that I hadn't thought about what had caused the heaviness I had felt.
When they didn't reply, I said disbelievingly, "No, there must be a mistake. It's not true."
It must have been an awful dream, any minute I knew I was going to feel Jasper's warm hand shaking me, his face smiling at me, still satisfied from our love making the night before.
His hand didn't wake me, didn't save me from the nightmare I was in.
My breaths were shallow, the constriction on my chest stealing what little air I was taking in, and my eyes went to my legs. I had been so focused on escaping the darkness that I hadn't even realized that I hadn't been able to move them. Ignoring my mother's protests, I clamped my hands on the bedrails and pulled myself upright, wide eyes taking in the lifeless limbs beneath the blanket.
Everything else forgotten, I stared at them, using everything I had in me, air, energy, blood, everything, to make them move. My head throbbed with the effort, my eyes narrowed, my lips pursed. Growling as I tensed, my knuckles turning white from the grip on the metal bars, I willed them to move, twitch, jerk, anything.
They did nothing.
I felt nothing.
Letting go of one rail, I reached down and pulled the blanket off, exposing my pale legs.
"Sweetheart, please," my mother begged beside me. Shaking my head defiantly, I fisted my hand and then brought it down onto my thigh.
Nothing.
"What the fuck," I hissed, and brought my fist down onto my other leg.
Nothing.
Just as I raised my hand for a third time, my father grabbed my hand.
"Edward," he said calmly, his voice soothing, a hint of the doctor tone, and I let go of the rail and fell back onto the bed. The shallow breaths had turned to short gasps alternating with heaving ones as my mind raced and ached with what was happening.
I didn't understand. I had been fine, I had taken precautions, I had a seatbelt on, I had been safe. Fuck, I drove a fucking Volvo.
And there I lay.
Still.
"Edward, stop," he demanded. My head throbbed from the movement and thoughts.
Confused, I turned to the doctor, my father, the one that had healed every injury I had ever gotten.
"You can fix me, right, Dad? You've always fixed me before." I pleaded, trembling with uncertainty and hope; hope that he would say 'Yes, son, I've got it all under control'.
But he didn't.
Instead, he hung his head in shame, and then slowly shook it side to side. "I wish I could, son, I wish I could," he whispered. My mother took my hand again, quietly stroking it as she watched me, helpless.
"How long?"
His neat brows furrowed and he tilted his head. "How long?" he repeated.
"Yeah, how long will I be like this?" I snapped. There was a hardness to my voice, as weak as it was, that I couldn't help. My mother released a loud sob, but I kept my eyes on my father. I saw him glance at her, for support or reassurance, I didn't know, but when his eyes returned to mine, I had my answer.
"I'm sorry, Edward," he sighed sadly, wiping at the tears that continued to fall from his eyes.
"It's permanent?" I asked, my eyes falling from his and back to my legs. They suddenly seemed thinner and paler. "It can't be," I whispered, shaking my head back and forth, attempting to force myself awake from the nightmare.
"Why don't we wait to talk to the surgeon tomorrow and see what he has to say. I know they will want to run a few tests now that you are awake."
Resigned, tired and weakened by the news, I nodded and closed my eyes.
I wanted the blackness back. The freedom and completeness that it offered me, that I would never feel again. As I willingly drifted off into the darkness, taking its comforting hand, I heard the faint cries of my parents.
Sighing, he bent over and picked up another armful of leaves. "Tell me again why I'm doing this?"
"Because you love me," I grinned at him, holding the bag open for him to dump the leaves in. Raising an eyebrow, he bent over for another armload.
"Not sure that's enough of a reason," he teased. "You called me and promised a 'great day of fun outside', 'maybe even a jog' you said." Dumping more leaves in the bag I held, he glared at me. "Liar."
Laughing, I shook my head. "Technically we are outside, and we can jog after dinner."
"And the fun? Where's the fun?" He bent over, wiggling his ass in front of me. "No jogging for me. My back is gonna kill me enough as it is. Don't you have a yard guy that can do all this shit?"
"Nope, my dad doesn't see any sense in that when he 'has two very able bodied, young, healthy men who can do it'."
Jasper groaned and kicked the leaves.
"Oh, that'll help. What are you, twelve?" In his classic Jasper way, he pouted his delicious lips and lowered his beautiful baby blues. My cock twitched at the thought of those lips wrapped around my cock as he looked up at me with those smoldering eyes. I glanced toward the front door before leaning in a bit too close for a friend and murmured in his ear. "I'll give you the blow job of your life tonight if you help me," I offered, knowing the favor would be eagerly returned.
Instantly, his energy increased, a huge smug smile on his face as he worked three times faster than he had before. All afternoon, we raked and bagged leaves, throwing each other into a few piles here and there. He managed to not complain…much.
Just as we were almost done with the last pile, my mother stepped onto the porch and yelled to us that dinner was done. The sun had started to set and I realized we had been raking for over five hours. Our yard was huge compared to those nearby, and the forest that lined three sides that constantly dropped leaves into it didn't help. Tossing his rake down with a satisfied smile, Jasper arched his back and lifted his arms above his head, his sweatshirt riding up just enough to tease me. When he caught me looking, he smiled and nudged me.
"Later, you get to see a lot more. In fact, I think you need to give me a massage too, oh and a foot rub. My feet are killing me."
"Those weren't part of the deal, wimp," I said, closing the last bag and lifting it.
"I'm renegotiating part of the contract," he called out to me as I walked away with the bag on my shoulder.
After setting it down with the other twenty we had filled, I went back to Jasper and found him tilting his body side to side to work out the kinks. "Never know you're some big track athlete."
"Key word 'track', not raking athlete," he grimaced.
I turned my back to him. "C'mere," I said over my shoulder. Hesitating, he took a step forward until his chest was almost touching my back. Even through my sweatshirt, I could feel his body heat.
"Yeah?" he asked breathlessly. I knew his heart was racing at our closeness, I also knew his eyes were darting from me to the kitchen window where my mother had a clear view of us.
"Hop on," I said, holding my arms out and bracing my body for the impact of his weight.
"Serious?"
"If it'll stop your bitching, yeah."
Just as he went to hop on, he hesitated and leaned closer. "I still get the blowjob though, right?"
"Oh, most definitely. That is my reward as much as yours," I replied, looking over my shoulder at him and licking my lips.
Laughing, he took a step back and then I felt his hands on my shoulders as he jumped up onto my back. Just his legs gripped my waist and I grabbed under his knees and shifted him up a bit for a better position so I could hold him easier. Resting his weight on my back, he wrapped his arms around my neck and put his mouth next to my ear.
"Giddy up, boy," he chuckled. Trying not to laugh, I headed for my porch, the already huge yard growing larger with each step. "Mmmm, love feeling you move against me like this," he moaned in my ear. I knew he was aware of where we were, that we could be seen, and he kept it looking innocent.
But what came out of his mouth was anything but.
"I'm getting hard from my cock rubbing against your back." He pressed into my back more, letting me feel just how hard he was getting. It always amazed me, how instantly excited we both got whenever we touched. I'd never been with another guy, but I knew no one would ever make me feel the way he did.
"Shut the fuck up," I warned, shifting his weight again, "or I'm going to drop you."
He ignored me. "Can you feel it, baby? My cock, hard and ready for your lips to wrap around it and suck me off."
"Jasper," I panted, not sure if I was out of breath because of his weight or his words. A movement ahead caught my eye and I looked up to see my mother on the porch with something in her hands.
"Think she knows her son gives good head?" he asked me. "How much I want to come down his throat and scream his name?"
I began laughing; my cheeks reddening, thankful my mother would think it was from carrying his heavy ass and not his perverted words.
Truth was I could have carried him for miles, I felt strong, solid and useful. Carrying Jasper was only difficult because of the erection he was causing me.
"I can't believe you're saying that shit," I chuckled.
"Aw, you love it when I talk to you like this," he mused truthfully. "When I tell you how much I want to suck your- Oh hey, Mrs. C," he said, changing gears amazingly fast as we arrived near the porch.
She waved and held up a camera. Stopping, I shifted Jasper's weight and we smiled up at her while she took the picture.
Never breaking his smile, he promised, "Your cock is mine later."
I stumbled when I started laughing, barely making it to the steps before setting him down.
She took our picture, laughing along with us, although for an entirely different reason. "Come get dinner, boys," she said, turning and going inside. Just as I went to open the door, Jasper grabbed my arm.
"Will it always be like this?" he asked quietly and suddenly.
"Like what?"
"This way between us. The spark or chemistry, or whatever the fuck you want to call it."
"Of course." I tugged him out of the doorway to the corner of the porch. "You're it for me, Jasper. I have no plans to spend a second with anyone who isn't you."
A blush crept to his cheeks and he lowered his eyes. "What if something happens? What if we don't get into the same college, what if I don't get into any college, what if we come out and…" he babbled worriedly.
"Love, stop. Just stop." I wrapped my arms around him, taking a chance and pulling him to me. "Trust me. You and I are together forever, no matter what. College, families…nothing will stand in our way. I promise."
"But-"
"With everything that I am, I promise."
I felt his body relax as my words sunk in and he released his fear. I knew the feeling, when he was in my arms, my fears disappeared too.
"I love you," he murmured.
"I love you, too," I whispered as I let him go. "We gotta get inside." Nodding, he turned and I followed him inside my house.
"Something smells great, Mrs. Cullen," he greeted as he walked toward the kitchen. Standing in the doorway, I took off my sweatshirt and watched Jasper laugh when my mother teased him about something.
It was a simple moment, Jasper in my kitchen, getting a drink from our fridge and helping my mother reach something in the upper cupboards, but my heart still burst from sheer fucking joy.
We were happy and healthy with our entire futures ahead of us.
My eyes snapped opened, the darkness of the room suffocating, my heart racing as I looked around and finally realized where I was. For the brief time I walked the line of consciousness, I had forgotten the turn my life had taken, for those precious seconds before reality had savagely settled in, I had forgotten. Squinting, I made out a body in the chair next to my bed and from the width of the shoulders, I knew it was my father.
The dream came back to me, fresh and raw and real, as if I had been living it all over again. My body had been strong enough to spend hours raking leaves and carrying Jasper. The dream had been a cruel reminder of what I could no longer do.
There would be no more.
My father slept less than a few feet away, but I had never felt more alone.
Clenching my eyes to ward off the rush of emotions I felt coming, I turned my head away from my dad, forcing myself to remain quiet as the tears slid down my cheeks.
"**~~**"
"How are you feeling today, Edward?" the doctor greeted as he pulled my curtain aside and stood tall at the end of my bed.
What kind of question was that? I was seventeen and my life had just been turned upside down.
Picking up my chart, his eyes skimmed the information. "It's great to see you awake, you look good, all things considered."
His was too damn cheery.
When I never answered, he finally looked up from his chart to glance over me. The sun had barely risen; I hadn't been awake more than a few minutes.
Blinking, I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. "Okay, I guess," I finally replied.
"My name's Dr. Sullivan, I did your surgery the night you came in. I'm a spinal surgeon here that specializes in pediatrics. Obviously you're not a child, but you still have some growing left in you, so given your age, they called me in." He put the clipboard back down and moved to my side, glancing at the machines and their monitors.
"Where are my parents?"
Not looking at me, he replied. "They headed out for some coffee when I arrived. I wanted a few minutes alone with you, see how you were doing. How's the headache?" he asked as he leaned forward and put his fingers on my head, moving them and pressing slightly. "Any pain?"
"I had some earlier, and it hurts if the light is too bright."
"That's to be expected. You're lucky your head injury wasn't worse."
Yeah, real lucky.
After a long minute, he sat on the edge of my bed, placing his stethoscope over my chest in different spots.
"Deep breaths," he directed. Doing my best to follow his instructions, I inhaled deeply. "Can you pull yourself upright?" Using the bedrails, I slowly pulled myself up until I was almost sitting. Reaching around me, he placed a cool hand on me and pressed the stethoscope to my flesh, moving it after each breath I took.
"Very good. Your lungs and heart sound great. You might feel groggy until the sedatives work out of your system." Putting the stethoscope around his neck, he looked at me. "I want to do a few tests, nothing difficult, but I want to find out what kind of damage we're talking about, okay? Then we can discuss the results and go from there. Are you up for it?"
I thought for a second and then nodded.
"Great," he said as he stood back up. Turning to me, he took my hand in his and placed our palms flat against each other. "Push against me as hard as you can."
I pushed and he resisted, I was younger and stronger but he had more leverage and was able to counteract my strength. He moved to my other side and repeated it.
"Now make a fist, flex your fingers, and pick up this pencil," he instructed, placing a pencil on the table. I did everything with both hands. "Excellent." Then he took the blanket off my legs and I turned away, refusing to look at the betraying limbs. He pulled a small pin out of his pocket. "Now, I'm going to poke you in different sensory points, if you feel it, you let me know, okay?"
Just then my parents walked back in, my dad giving me a smile before greeting Dr. Sullivan. My mother sat in the chair and sipped her coffee.
"Ready?" Dr. Sullivan asked after pushing my gown aside, uncovering my hips and penis. I blushed and saw my mother advert her eyes to the floor. Nodding, I watched as he lowered the pin toward my right hip before closing my eyes. I assumed he had begun, and I waited, praying for the sweet pain.
I was just about to give up all hope and I felt a slight sensation, it was dull but I felt it, and I opened my eyes, practically screaming.
"I felt that!"
My mother jumped and her eyes went to my father.
"I felt something, I swear," I repeated, looking at Dr. Sullivan.
"Very good, Edward. Let me try that spot again." He did it again and I watched as the pin pierced near the inside of my left thigh. "Anything?"
"Yeah, it's dull, but I feel something. That's good, right? That means I'm going to be okay, right?" I asked, unable to contain the relief and excitement I felt. Grinning, I didn't even care my dick was laying there with a tube in it for all to see, I didn't care that I reeked of body odor, I was going to be okay.
My high lasted until I looked at my father and saw the worry in his eyes, concern masking his face.
"It's good," Dr. Sullivan replied, "But it's not enough, Edward. There were eleven other pin pricks, and you barely felt one of them."
"But I felt it," I said, clinging to the hope it had given me.
"Yes, and that's good, that means there is some information traveling up your spine, but it seems the injury is a bit further up than we thought, affecting you from the T12 down."
"No," I said, refusing to acknowledge whatever shitty news he was going to tell me. "This isn't forever, is it?" I asked desperately, turning to him as he covered me back up and moved to my feet. Lifting one of my legs, he supported my calf with one hand and placed his other against the bottom of my foot.
"We'll talk about that in a minute," he said. "Now push against my hand, Edward. Use all your strength."
I did, I swear I did, but he never flinched, never moved, not even a fucking twitch.
"Very good," he said calmly as he placed my leg down and picked up my other one, putting it in the same position. It was the strangest thing, watching him touch me, move me, and yet, I felt none of it. It was if it was happening to someone else. "Push."
Gritting my teeth, I focused all my strength and growled as I forced my body weight against his hand.
He never moved.
Exhausted, I fell back onto the bed, my breaths heavy as I willed myself to feel something.
"Good job, Edward." He put my foot down and laid the blanket back over my legs. After writing a few things down on the clipboard, he put his pen away and went over to the window. Leaning his back against it, he folded his arms over his chest and looked at me with understanding eyes.
"You're a smart man, Edward, so I'm not going to BS you. I think you want to know how it is and what to expect, yes?"
Nervous, I nodded and took a deep breath.
"I've already talked to your parents earlier today, so this won't really come as news to them but they wanted to be here when I explained it all to you. I'm sure with a doctor as a father, you've heard some of these terms before but if you don't understand anything, just ask, okay?"
I nodded again.
On my left side, I felt my mother's hand cover mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"I understand the collision you were in was head on. The impact caused your upper body to snap forward while your lower body remained in place from the seatbelt. The force of this snap was similar to whiplash but more severe. It caused a lot of trauma to your spinal cord along with many small fractures and one larger one near your T12, right between your T12 and L1. T being thoracic, L being lumbar. He reached beside him and grabbed a paper.
When he held it up, I saw it was a diagram of the spine. Taking out his pen again, he pointed to a part in the lower section. This is your T12 and your L1. The thoracic region affects movement from your chest down, while the lumbar affects the hips and legs. The trauma is low enough on you that your chest and arms remain unaffected, which is good news. Understand everything so far?"
"Yeah," I answered, swallowing hard.
"When your spine is injured, the information that travels through it doesn't make it to the brain. There is no communication between what is going on below the injury and your brain. However, with the slight sensation you felt, your injury is categorized as incomplete. This means that some information is reaching the brain and there was not a complete sever of the cord itself. Now, with the location of your injury, your hips and legs are affected, as are your bladder, bowels and penis. There is no way for these organs to tell your brain they need to release, so this will be up to you now. "
He paused, letting the news sink in.
"Any questions so far?"
Just one.
"I just need to know if I'll walk again," I said in shaky voice. He took a long time before answering, my hope diminishing more with each second.
"That's unlikely, but not entirely impossible," he replied compassionately. The tears rolled down my cheeks and my mother stood up, leaned over and hugged me. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head against her, soaking up the small amount of comfort she could offer her broken son. "You're young, Edward, there is a chance, albeit slim, that you'll regain more sensation. The general rule of thumb is whatever you feel six months post injury is what you will have for the remainder of your life, but there have been cases, unusual circumstances where people have recovered. With your injury being incomplete, there is not a complete lack of hope." He folded the paper back up and glanced at my father. "That being said, it is unlikely and you will probably be in a wheelchair for the remainder of your life."
I felt my mother's embrace tightened and she moved her mouth to my ear. "I love you, and I know you can do it, sweetheart. You'll be okay," she whispered before releasing me and standing up. "Where do we go from here?" she asked Dr. Sullivan.
"We can arrange a med-flight back to the hospital in Forks, where he can stay until he is fit to go home. I want him on antibiotics and some steroids for a least another ten days, and then you can take him home. Normally, we have the patients go to rehab to learn everything but given that Carlisle is a doctor, Edward can do most of his rehab at home. I think Edward would be more comfortable there anyway."
"What kind of rehab?" I asked, swiping at my cheeks.
"Physical therapy will work your muscles. Just because you don't feel them doesn't mean they can't be used. They need to stay moving or other problems can occur. Also, you will need to build upper body strength for the chair and moving yourself in and out of it. We'll probably start you PT four times a week, eventually working down to a few times a week. Occupational therapy will teach you how to care for yourself; bathing, catheter, bowel movements, and general moving around your house. We can arrange for both to work with you in your home."
My father walked up to the bed and put his hand on my foot. I saw it there, but I didn't fe….
Sighing, I tried to smile at him, to let him know I was okay but I would have been lying. I had heard all the terms, I even understood most of what the doctor said, but all I really heard was that I would be half a man for the rest of my life.
All I felt was I'd rather be dead.
"Why don't you get some rest, I'll be back later today to check on you and see if we can arrange for your flight sometime tomorrow, okay? You need anything, ring the nurses, and if your head starts to hurt more let them know."Dr. Sullivan gave me a smile and then nodded to my father before heading out of the room.
My parents stood on either side of my bed, my mom holding my hand while my dad kept trying to give me a smile. After a few minutes of silence, all of us dealing with the news in our own way my father shifted his weight.
"Dr. Sullivan is a great doctor, Edward," he stated.
"Not good enough apparently," I sighed, "or else I'd be walking."
"They did what they could, some of the best spinal surgeons in the country work here," he softly scolded me. My mother did what all mother's do and treaded us delicately through the emotions with her touches and looks. Then she changed the subject.
"Alice is outside, she wants to come in and see you."
Alice.
My younger sister who pranced everywhere she went with enough endless energy to power a city.
"Okay," I said, drying my face with my blanket. My father left for a second and returned with Alice. I heard her dainty footsteps on the tile before she turned the corner of the curtain. As small as ever, she looked more frail and tired than I had ever seen her look. Even when she had suffered from pneumonia, she had looked better.
"Hey," she said as she walked up to the bed.
"We'll leave you two alone for a few minutes," my mom said, glancing at my dad. Obediently, he followed her out the door.
Stiffly, Alice stood next to the bed. Attempting to keep her eyes from my legs, she focused on my face. "How are you feeling?"
Shrugging, I frowned. "Not very well apparently," I snapped. Immediately, I felt guilty for my comment, and when I saw the tears brimming in her eyes, I swore under my breath. "Sorry," I mumbled. "Just feeling pretty shitty right now, ya know?"
"It's alright," she shrugged. "I just…I was pretty scared. We all were. I thought mom was going to go crazy while we were waiting, and Jasper, he was like a zombie."
My heart leapt at his name.
"Jasper?"
She tentatively sat on the edge of my bed, curling one leg up under her. "Yeah, he was here. I think he got here a few hours after we did. I don't remember. He and his mom stayed overnight but then they had to leave…" She bit her lip thoughtfully. "Yesterday, I think. I kinda lost track of time."
"Was he okay?"
"I didn't talk to him but he sure didn't look okay. He took the news pretty hard, crying, shaking. Then he just kinda shut down. I think we all did. Mom said you were on your way to see him?"
Flashes from the accident hit me and I closed my eyes, barely nodding. "We were going to…"
Make love.
"… hang out New Year's Eve and go to the movies the next day," I recalled.
"Can you come home soon?"
"I guess they are going to try to fly me to dad's hospital, but I'll be there for a week I think. Then I guess I can go home. But I don't know…I don't know how."
"What?"
I stared out the window, past her short, black hair, to the city outside. "My bedroom is upstairs. Where will I sleep?"
"Don't worry about that stuff, Edward. Mom and dad will take care of it all, you know that."
"Yeah, I guess."
The door swung open and a nurse walked in. "I need to do a few things, can you wait outside?" she asked Alice as she picked up my chart. Alice nodded, stood up and headed for the door, only to turn around and practically throw herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck as much as she could.
"See you tomorrow." Her voice was muffled my shoulder, then she let me go and almost ran from the room. Shutting my eyes, I let the nurse do her work and I floated away to a better place, images of Jasper with leaves in his hair taking the place of sterile white walls and catheter bags.
I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up, it was dark again. My mother sat in the chair next to my bed reading a magazine.
"Where's dad?"
She looked up, surprised to see me awake, and smiled at me. "Hey, sweetheart. He took Alice to get some dinner. Neither of them have eaten much since we arrived. How are you feeling?"
Closing my eyes, the sleep not quite out of my system. "Okay, I guess."
"We'll get through this, we'll be okay," she reassured me with a fake confidence I knew she didn't feel.
"How, Mom? I'm seventeen and I'm going to be stuck in a chair for the rest of my life? How the fuck is that okay?" I snarled, an uncontainable anger welling up inside me that I couldn't control, and wasn't sure I wanted to. I expected her to scold me for swearing, but she just looked at me wide-eyed.
"I…It will be," she stumbled.
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Maybe you'll be okay, but not me. I won't ever be okay, Mom. Think of what this means? No college scholarship. My hopes of playing college basketball are gone, fuck, my chances of getting into the college I wanted are gone. Think of the work that will need to be done to the house just so I can get in the damn thing. My bedroom? Upstairs. I don't see you or dad carrying me to bed every night. So tell me again, how is this going to be okay?"
Sighing, she put her hand on mine and looked at me with her motherly stare. "Because I refuse to believe otherwise, that's how."
Turning away from her, I gazed out the window, ignoring her reflection in the glass, focusing on the blurry city lights, on the world that had continued on regardless of what had happened to me.
We stayed like that for what seemed like a long time, the room silent except for her occasional sniffle and the sounds of the machines beside me. When my father walked in, he sensed the mood immediately and walked over to my mother, giving her a supportive hug. He stood beside her with a hand on her shoulder while her hand was on mine. Every now and then I felt her thumb rub my hand. I never tried to pull it away from her and eventually, I returned one of her tender squeezes.
I felt my mother stand, giving my hand a pat.
"Would you like one of us to stay with you tonight?" she asked. It was such a Mom thing to do, she was leaving me the option of being alone. Even though I knew she wanted to stay and not let me out of her sight, she knew that I needed it.
Shaking my head, I said, "No, go get some sleep. I'll be fine. I can call if I need you."
"Okay, sweetheart, we'll be back first thing in the morning. Maybe we can get you home." Bending over, she packed up her bag and then put it on her shoulder.
"Mom?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you leave me your phone?"
The look of confusion on her face was brief, but she pulled it from her bag and put it on the table.
"Thanks," I said, trying my best to give her a smile.
"Try to get some rest," she said as she leaned over to hug me. "We love you."
My dad hugged me after, telling me he loved me and then they both headed out.
Darkness surrounded me quickly, and I let it fall over me, thick and comforting and lonely. Tears poured from my eyes, and I let them. They did me no good, I knew it, nothing would, but I felt a release from them that I hadn't felt any other way.
A teenager's body, young, strong and virile was now nothing more than a shell housing my soul. My emotions went from anger to denial and back to anger. The entire time, I asked why me, what had I done?
Lying there, I felt everything; my heart beat, the blood flowing through my veins, the cuts and bruises on my face.
Everything.
Except my legs.
I needed something to calm the storm of thoughts in my head.
I needed him.
Reaching over to the table, I picked up my mother's cell phone and checked the time.
Two in the morning.
It was too late. I dropped the phone onto my bed next to me, but kept my hand on it.
Be safe, baby.
"Fuck it," I murmured, picking the phone up and dialing the number. I knew he must have been asleep, but he answered on the second ring even though he probably didn't recognize my mother's number.
"Hello?" He sounded exhausted. I didn't know why I called him. I didn't know what I needed, and yet I needed everything, nothing of which he could give me.
But he could just be.
When I spoke, my voice was quiet and soft, shaking at the joy of simply hearing him again. "Sing to me," I requested without another word.
He gasped, and then did what I needed him to do, knowing exactly what I needed to hear. In the sweetest voice I'd had ever heard, he began.
"When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be, baby, let it be."
"**~~**"
Thanks for reading~
Ummm.. so how was it? I hope I did him some justice...
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82% of those with a SCI are male, 56% are between the ages of 16 and 30.