Thank you for your reviews. I love to read your thoughts and theories, and I truly appreciate any input. Being a writer often means you're challenged by your own thoughts, especially when you have a thought process in place and you want to perfect something. When you post a piece you've been working on and no one throws metaphorical tomatoes at you, it's a good day. (Though, if they're not rotten, I do like tomatoes. But on sandwiches. With bacon. I digress...) Anyway, I'm quite proud of this chapter. I channeled a character that I loved from TV here for one tiny scene-though this character was never cruel or mean by any means. I just liked how she and another character first met. She was actually quite a badass (DarkScribe, I'm looking at you for this one. Kitten heels-ring a bell?). Anyway, it's one of my favorite chapters I've written so far because of the ending. I like making characters human-meaning, they have flaws. They can cringe-worthy. I don't shy away from that kind of thing. Because it exists in real life.

ANYWAY,

I'll be quiet now. ;)

Let me know what you think. Enjoy!


He didn't remember the first few days following the accident. Apparently, he was in and out of consciousness, giving all around him quite the scare. It felt weird to float even when awake, the conversations going on around him seemingly there, but unattainable to his own senses. When he finally did join the world again with full awareness, he just felt heavy.

The doctors told him it was a blessing that he didn't feel half of the pain his body was trying (and failing) to recover from. Sure, his upper body was sore and bruised, but it was manageable. Everything else felt… fine. He thought maybe he'd been lucky. Then the doctor asked him to move his legs and when the group surrounding him frowned as if in sync, he knew something had been wrong.

They don't warn you like in the movies. He discovered he was an amputee by glancing down where his left leg used to be and seeing nothing but sheet. Then, of course doctors jumped in and explained that they had tried their best to save it, but his parents decided to make that choice for him. He wasn't angry at them for that. After all, if there was no saving it, why bother and try?

Still, he couldn't figure out why his right leg looked so mauled, yet he couldn't feel a thing.

Austin sustained many tests, poking, and prodding following the revelation that he couldn't feel his right leg that he felt more exhausted than he knew possible. Poke here, prod there—is there a difference in the way this feels, Austin? I know this is scary, but do you feel anything when we do this? Every time, the answer was no. He was severely alarmed, but they assumed him it was normal. Normal? He wanted to laugh. Normal. Yeah, normal was antagonizing pain following being ejected from a vehicle (so he was told) and hitting a tree. Thank you, random tree for damaging my spine.

I'll send you a thank you note as soon as I'm good to go.

His parents hadn't appreciated that humor. His mother even sobbed.

She'd been doing a lot of that lately.

A part of him wanted to admit to the conversation he heard several nights ago and said, "Well, at least you don't have to worry about prom anymore." He figured it wouldn't have been appreciated. Still, humor was his only way of ignoring the absolute crushing feeling that came with what he was going through. When he was conscious, they were escorting him to tests and giving him more medications than he could remember. His blood pressure was all over the place. His fevers kept returning—he might have an infection—oh no, the catheter he might be allergic too. Could he just go back to sleep for a while?

Soon though, he'd recovered enough that they moved him out of intensive care and into a normal room. His mother stopped crying long enough to tell him how proud she was of him (Why?) and his father just held his bible and looked at him. From a distance.

No one else came through, and when he first asked about Dez, his parents exchanged a look and sighed. He thought he might've died and when he brought himself into such a panic attack that the doctors came rushing into loud beeping, they finally told him that no, he was fine. Only a few minor scratches. There was something they weren't telling him, but he pushed it away. There was only so much he could take anyway.

Two weeks into his recovery, the doctors started talking about rehab. He had yet to move his right leg, or anything below his chest for that matter. He had a feeling it was there to stay, despite everyone saying otherwise. Austin used to be an optimistic person, but this was weighing on him. The doctors thought they had poker faces, but they were just as readable as everyone else. Tiny frowns still meant bad news.

Still, leaving the hospital was a sure sign things had to be looking up. The rehab center looked old, but in decent condition and there were some really nice nurses there. He still had yet to see anyone that he loved and knew so well other than his parents, but he figured his parents were keeping them away until he was stronger. It seemed safe that way. His father had been requesting prayers at the church and asking for everyone to keep a watchful eye on their own children. He was a lesson, one to learn from. Don't be Austin Moon.

His mother didn't say much once he was in the rehab facility, usually just walked around, fixing imaginary things and muttering to herself. He wondered how much their insurance covered of his medical bills. Was he even more a burden than before?

So many thoughts pressured him at all hours of the day that he was most intrigued when a nurse that was named Wendy walked in and inquired if he'd be interested in a buddy program. Apparently, soon to be med school students needed a certain amount of volunteer hours to qualify for schooling. They needed to learn basics while promoting good communication skills, and all the other jargon included with becoming an adult, basically. It sounded interesting enough, and with his lack of friends coming into visit, he figured a friend would be fantastic. Besides, every time he asked any adults for information these days, they kind of just shrugged him off.

Then he met Ally Dawson.

He watched he walk into his hospital rehab room with a look on her face that could leave small children and possibly adults running. Actually, she had delicate features, just hardened with too much make up and designer sunglasses. Her hair was a dark brown, practically curled perfectly while her manicured fingers flicked the sunglasses off with expertise. She practically tossed a tote bag onto his wheelchair with such a force that he probably would've jumped if he wasn't on such a high anti-spasm medication and oh yeah—if he had function of his lower body.

Then, she smiled as the nurse introduced them. It was sweet, oddly. She seemed nice enough. She remained at the doorway with caution all through her body, and he got that. Just because she was soon to be a med student didn't mean that a guy with one leg didn't scare her. Especially when he was probably going to be paralyzed for the rest of his life. Give her a minute, he told himself. She'll warm up.

Except, she was awful. Like totally out of the movies awful with the worst attitude he'd ever seen. He was on so many pain medications and other crap that he didn't have the patience for it, either. He expected a friend, someone who might distract him from the crap he'd been dealing with (like the third surgery on his 'good' leg in two weeks), and while he liked Jake from down the hall, he talked a little too much. He didn't let her act like the spoiled girl she clearly was, and it seemed to bother her.

A part of Austin wondered if she ever got told no in her life.

Being from such a working class family, and going to a public school where most of the people were in similar situations, it wasn't often he saw how the upper part of Miami lived. He knew there were gated communities north of his suburb, where filthy rich people boasted to their neighbors about ridiculous, unnecessary things. Still, he doubted everyone was as shallow as others had imagined, but Ally seemed to want to prove stereotypes true.

He tried for a bit. He figured if it was him, he might be a bit hard to manage following something like this. It seemed like it was worth it, after all. To have someone. He didn't understand why Dez and Piper hadn't come to see him yet, especially them out of anyone. He asked his mother about Piper the night before last, and she just smiled sadly and said, "She's trying, Austin. Give her time."

What the hell did that mean? He didn't like how impatient this situation was making him, how short tempered. When he asked her what that meant, his father just peeked up from whatever he was reading and muttered, "Pray, Austin. Pray."

He didn't know where to even start.

So, when she came back the next day, Austin saw her reading his file. It made him think that maybe she wasn't so terrible and they could work this out. He knew just how well Jake and his intern were getting along (Jake had shared that Cassidy might be his future wife—even as a joke, he suspected the feelings might be mutual) and was envious of it. Jake struggled much like he did, and he knew if he worked at it, he could get them there. But after a long morning (thank you to his body for producing yet another infection—you're doing a great job) he thought he'd just try.

And then he realized he couldn't stand her. He knew nothing about her—literally nothing since she didn't share much about herself at all in the few hours they were together the day before and right then, but he couldn't stand her. And he made her a deal, one he was going to follow, at least until he was out of the rehab facility and back in his own house, where he could see his real friends, and get back to his life.

But the damn girl kept coming back. Not that he ever suspected it was because of him.

The third day of their seemingly unworkable pairing, he was in a good mood. He'd worked through physical therapy quite early (if you wanted to call his other favorite nurse, Emilia stretching him physical therapy, then yeah, it was) and had been told by his mother that his girlfriend would be visiting that afternoon. It seemed like the day could only continue to better itself, then rainstorm Ally walked into the door.

In heels. Kitten heels, but he digressed.

"It's raining outside," he deadpanned, seeing her dressed as if she was heading to a party, not volunteering at a rehab facility. "Isn't that the wrong outfit?"

"Are you a fashion designer?" she shot back, clearly offended. She tore off her sunglasses and dropped both her bag and phone on the nearby counter, seemingly preoccupied by his lighting fixtures in the room to give more effort to the answer.

"They let you wear that?" he demanded again, secretly enjoying how much he clearly annoyed her.

She walked right past his bed, looking at the windows this time. He was going to ask, before she huffed slightly and sat in the chair farthest from him. In the time she'd sat down, she had managed to grab his bedside file and was reading through it.

"They have decreased your pain medication," she noted.

Austin just stared at her. "Yeah. I guess so."

She peered up from the clipboard, giving him a briefly quizzical look before going back to ignoring him, humming to herself. Austin sighed, unsure what that even meant, and went back to watching the rain pour outside. It had been nearly a month since the accident date (which the majority of he couldn't remember—maybe that was a good thing) and he hadn't been outside in just as long. A part of him ached to smell the sweet air of an ocean breeze, but another more reasonable part of him knew just how far off that would be.

"What are you sighing about?"

Coldly stated, he didn't humor her. "Life."

Oddly, it earned him a smile. She looked like plagued by torture when she did. "It's raining," she agreed, following his gaze to the window. "And?"

"And I miss the rain."

"How do you miss the rain?"

"Why are you so talkative today?"

She didn't like the question, gave him a dirty look, and then stuck up her chin. He noticed she did this when she was offended, and silently smiled at the triumph.

"I haven't been outside in almost a month," he added after a moment of silence. "I miss how it feels to have a real breeze hit my skin. Or feel the sun on my body. That kind of thing."

"It's wonderful."

He couldn't help but smile at her sarcasm, "Is my file that interesting today?"

"I'm trying to learn," she responded.

He shrugged that off, then looked to the wheelchair that was near the door, oddly enough in the same spot it was last time. He wondered if she put a conscious effort into not dropping her bag on it, or if it just happened to miss the torment that day. After a moment, he made a decision. "Can you bring my wheelchair over here?"

She glanced up from the clipboard, eyeing it from where she sat. Then, wordlessly, she got up and brought it over to the bed. Austin knew she wouldn't go out of her way to help him, but was glad to see her bend over to put the wheel locks into place. He was more surprised when she placed the clipboard back on the edge of the bed, and offered him assistance.

He enjoyed telling her no, that he needed to practice this himself.

Ally didn't say a word as he tried his hardest to maneuver his wrecked body from the bed, into the chair. It took more effort than he wanted to admit, but he did it on his own. It exhausted him.

"You good?"

"Yes," he responded, glancing back out the window. Then, with a determined smile, he began to wheel himself out of the room and toward the elevator.

"Where are you going?"

With a short turn, he gave her an even bigger, and actually genuine grin. "Outside."

She looked more than perplexed, maybe a bit shocked. "But it's raining!"

"I know!"

"I don't want to go out in the rain! I'm wearing my new heels!"

Austin just laughed, "No one said you had to come!"

Yet, he heard the clicking of those damn kitten heels follow him all the way to the elevator.

He could've made a break for it, at least that's what he told himself when he rolled past all the nurses and other staff, right to the doors. Ally followed wordlessly behind him and only once he was outside, in the beginning of the parking lot did he hear her stop, and under the awning of the building, see her look panicked at him from the door.

"What are you doing?"

"Are you deaf?" he questioned with amused eyes. "I'm going outside."

"It's raining," she reminded.

He laughed and wheeled himself further into it, feeling small specks of rain tap on his shoulders and trickle down his hairline. "It's warm," he added after a second, sticking his head toward the sky so he could feel it on his face. The air was thick and humid, typical for summer in Miami but it felt so, so good. Ally just stared at him as if he was absolutely insane, then glanced behind her as if she couldn't possibly be the only one watching the so-called madness.

As he ventured further into the parking lot, she inched forward. Maybe she figured if he got run over, she would be held responsible, or perhaps his boldness intrigued her. For the first time in weeks, he felt more like himself, more alive… maybe even okay. There were a lot of long days, painful days, and confusion. But being outside, in the real world, if only an inch or two of it… it seemed manageable.

"Are you going to join me?" He knew what he said to her only a day's previous. But he wanted to see just how far he could make her come out. Especially if she ruined those stupid heels she was wearing, or got that perfectly pressed skirt wet. He was soaked now, the rain pouring down on him, in typical flash storm fashion. What was the worst that could happen to him? It wasn't like the chair was electrical and he'd go up in smoke.

Ally just shook her head in bewilderment. "I'll get wet!"

A great ploy came to mind, and he nodded eagerly, "Yes! That's my plan. I hear when you get the wicked witch of the west wet, she melts!"

And then, the same smile he remembered from the moment they met two days ago came back. It started slowly, like a crack in a windshield, then spread across her face. A tiny giggle escaped her lips, only until she realized it was an insult. So her arms crossed and she attempted to scowl, but her lips betrayed her, poking upwards despite her attempts to prove otherwise. And Austin just grinned back at her, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he could survive the six weeks with her, and that he wouldn't hate it either.