A couple days later they finally let Jay go home. He was so excited to finally leave those walls behind him, even if he did have to go back for follow ups.

Cole pulls up his car into the lair, then runs around to Jay's door to help him get out.

"I got it." Grumbles Jay. As he is getting up he sees Zane hovering with a wheelchair. They got me a fucking wheelchair. He stubbornly pulls his crutch off the back seat as he glares disapprovingly at the wheel chair.

"I walked out of here, I'm going to walk back in." He says firmly.

"Well, ok then." Says Cole, uncertainty laced through his voice, as he goes to grab Jay's bag.

Zane goes to park the wheelchair somewhere else, seeing it is not helping the situation. He didn't understand Jay's stubbornness, they had used a wheelchair to get him to the car in the first place.

Jay starts making his way to the lift, step by slow step. It was further than he remembered, much further than the 10 steps to his ensuite bathroom.. ugh, why didn't they live in a normal house?

He gets about two thirds of the way to the lift before needing to take a short break, leaning on the crutch and panting for breath.

"Zane, we might need that chair." Says Cole gently.

"No!" Says Jay, "I can do it, I just.. need to catch my breath."

Cole frowns, not sure which would be more damaging, allowing Jay to keep walking, or injuring his pride by forcing him to use the chair. He sighs, and decides that Jay will ask for help when he really needs it.

Jay starts moving again, step after careful step until he makes it into the lift. He leans on the wall, exhausted. That short walk had no right making him this tired. The lift buzzes as they start moving up, then the doors open and he has to start moving again, although this time it is only a few small steps to the couch. He had wanted to go straight to his room, but he needed a break, so he sinks into the soft cushions, leaning his crutch beside him. Zane and Cole wander off into the hallway, gone to stow his bags or whatever. Jay closes his eyes taking in the familiar musty smell, the sound of creaking floorboards, no more beeping machines, and disinfectant, he was home.

Suddenly there is a pop, and he opens his eyes in surprise. Zane is holding a popper, streamers dangling out the end, and Cole is holding a large chocolate cake.

"Welcome home!" They say together, with big grins on their faces.

"You just wanted an excuse to eat cake." Says Jay to Cole, with a half grin on his face.

"Well, duh." Says Cole. "Cake is delicious, one should take every excuse possible."

When Jay is finally back in his room, he pauses taking in the sight. It is strange how much of it is exactly the same as he left it. He remembers the last time he was there, trying to sleep with Zane watching him, shivering with a fever, struggling to breathe. He sighs, trying to bring his mind back into the present. The sheets have been changed, pristine and smooth, tucked in at the edges. The bedside table is still home to the ruined notebook with its crumpled pages, a half empty glass of water, and a fresh inhaler. There is a new notebook sitting on the end of his bed, along with a pencil set, it seemed Cole had followed through on his promise to get Jay a new one. It was thoughtful and kind, just like Cole, which made Jay feel super guilty that he hated it. A knot twisted in his stomach at the thought of drawing again. He sighed once more, taking both notebooks and shoving them into a drawer where he wouldn't have to look at them. He would still try to thank Cole later.

He lays down on the bed, oh how I missed my own bed! The clean sheets smell right, and are much softer than the crisp starchy ones he had gotten used to. He feels his eyes drooping. He knew he would still be tired for a while. Unpacking could wait, everything could wait, he had his bed back.

It takes Jay a couple of days to realise that being home sucks almost as much as being in the hospital. He is still tired all the fucking time. He still gets winded whenever he tries to walk any significant distance. It doesn't help that his room is one of the furthest ones from the bathroom, which means 35 steps each way whenever he needs to pee. Eating still feels like a chore, but at least swallowing was back to feeling normal, his appetite was just missing. He knew he had lost weight, so he did his best to finish each meal, but was rarely successful.

He wasn't sure why his dreams had been less intense at the hospital. Maybe he had been too out of it to remember them, or all the weird noises didn't allow him to sleep deeply enough to have them. Whatever it was, now he was home they were back in force. It felt like each evening he was playing a round of nightmare roulette. He dreamt about being stuck with a tube in his mouth unable to move. He dreamt about freezing in the rain, shivering so much it felt like his teeth would fall out. He dreamt about needing to run somewhere urgently, but his body wouldn't let him, lungs burning with agony when he tried. He dreamt about drowning, yup he still dreamt about drowning. He had gotten pretty good at waking up quietly, body choosing the freeze reflex as he lay there sweating, remembering where he was, remembering he could breathe. He didn't want to wake the others every time. He knew Cole's patience must have a limit. He would begin to hate me if he needed to comfort me every night. He missed Nya. She would support him, like she had done when he had been having nightmares about Misfortune's Keep. At least the pirates rarely made appearances in his current dreams.

He wasn't sure if it was the new asthma meds, or if he was just getting desensitised, but he could normally breathe ok after waking up. At first his chest would feel tight, he would gasp for air, but after a minute it would even out, he would be ok. He knew the routine, he just needed to wait it out. Ride till the end, then try to go back to sleep. Not sleeping wasn't an option, his body needed it, craved it with every fibre, every hour of every day. The fatigue was constant.

"It will get better."

"It takes time."

"You need to be patient."

He was sick of it. He was so damn sick of it.

Sometimes he got lucky and had a nice dream. He would dream of Cole holding him, reading comics to him. He would dream of going on missions with the team, back when they were happy. He would dream of Nya, seeing her smile as they had a picnic or did the dishes. Those rare happy moments almost made the nightmares worth it.. almost.

One day over breakfast Cole is looking at him nervously. "You know I was reading an article the other day.." starts Cole. Jay frowns, trying to figure out what this is about. "It was saying that we all wash our hair too often these days. Like, the more we wash it, the greasier it gets, trying to compensate for all the oils stripped away by shampoo."

Jay sighs, clearly hearing the undertones. You stink, if a full shower is too hard, you don't need to wash your hair. Cole was being considerate of his feelings. It was embarrassing when basic self care was taking every bit of energy he had. "Maybe you should tell Kai?" Says Jay. "Then we might have a chance at some hot water."

Cole snorts, "yeah, good idea." he says cheerfully.

Kai had been spending a lot more time at the monastery. He wasn't there every night, but usually stayed over every other day or so. He was helping Jay continue with his physiotherapy exercises. Jay wanted to believe he would continue without Kai's help, but on days when Kai wasn't there, he did end up doing less. He felt guilty, he knew he was the reason Kai was around more. He knew Kai must be cancelling classes. But he couldn't bring himself to say anything, he couldn't ask Kai to stop, because he did need him. He hated that he needed him. He hated that he was a burden.

After breakfast Jay goes to shower. Since his return the showerhead was now one of those hose ones, grab rails had been installed, and there was a plastic shower stool. Even with all of the extra supports, the simple act of showering took a lot out of him, so he had been putting it off longer than he should. He takes Cole's advice, and showers without washing his hair, which did indeed make the whole thing a lot easier. I wonder what Cole would think if I never washed my hair again? What article would he then stumble upon?