Fic: What About Now - Chapter 7
Title: What About Now?
Pairing: Jared/Colin
Rating: R
Feedback: Need it! Need it so bad.
Disclaimer: NOT TRUE, and hopefully most will never ever happen. I own nothing.
Beta: The illustrious legolastariel made this chapter in a readable. *bows down*.
A/N: Story begins at the O2 Arena concert November 30th.
A/N 2: Dedicated, as always, in its entirety to the ever lovely and always supportive legolastariel! Thanks for the help with this.
A/N 3: I am back on familiar ground and now have access to internet (which is bloody glorious!) so hopefully the chapters will start popping in more often.
Summary: Jared is fighting for his life. Colin is fighting with himself. And the press is fighting for a story.
Jared was drowning. He was dying and he knew it.
He felt like he had been here before, maybe years ago, maybe only hours ago? Darkness was clouding his mind, clouding his thoughts. It was everywhere. So damn dark.
He could not breathe - his lungs would not cooperate. His throat was closed. His lungs were filled with blood, he was sure of it. A tinnitus like sound blared in his skull, shrieking in his ears. He felt trapped underneath a massive body of dark and murky water, crushed by the pressure, his skull caving in.
Panic seized him and Jared could feel his body responding to the feelings cursing through him, his heart hammering in his ribcage as if trying to escape its confines. He wanted to scream and cry but he had no control - could not do anything. He felt powerless and unable to move, yet his limbs seemed to have a life of their own. Terror clawed at his mind and he wanted to surrender to it, wanted to release his grip on this nightmare, yet something brought him spiralling back every time.
The pain.
It was everywhere and all around him. It made him feel breathless as it seared through his body and thought. It roared in his mind, drowning out all other inputs, blocking his senses. He was confused and frightened, like a small child left behind by his loved ones.
Someone was crying. Screaming? It sounded muffled, yet a part of him knew he was the one making those horrible groaning sounds.
More pain, this time it was in his chest. So much damn pain. It was in his legs. It was in his lungs. He could not breathe. He could not move, could not see, could not think - only feel. Pain was his very existence. A voice reached his ears, trying to break through his terror. He was sure someone was saying his name. Shannon? He hoped it was his brother. By now, he had to have reached his part of the stage from his drum kit. Shannon would make everything okay. His brother always did. Shannon would make it stop.
He felt a firm pressure on his forehead, on his scalp. Familiar and comforting. Soothing.
But the odd reprieves seemed to merely intensify the pain his body was screaming at him to alleviate, and more agony reached him. This time it was in his esophagus. Jared felt like his throat had been ripped raw. It was painfully clear to him that someone had forced something down his throat. He could taste blood. The fear that someone was trying to choke him took hold and he could feel his dread intensifying.
He was terrified.
To his shock he suddenly felt his muscles grow even weaker, his hold on reality more tenuous and he felt himself grow indifferent towards the world that surrounded him.
¤¤¤¤¤¤
Jared was terrified and Shannon had no idea how to ease his brother’s fear. The singer was tossing and turning to the best of his meager ability, his angular face covered with a sticky sheen of sweat. Occasionally, dread and agony filled blue eyes would spring open, seeing nothing, fearfully throwing a vacant stare around the room. Locked in a private hell.
The more Jared grasped consciousness, the more agitated and afraid he seemed to become.
All of a sudden nurses flocked around the bed and without any hesitation one of them injected a clear liquid into the IV connected to the back of Jared’s hand. The effect was immediate and within seconds, Jared’s tossing became less frantic; however the fear that marred his strained features remained. The struggling turned defeated and sluggish, but the desperation was still there.
“What did you give him?” Tomo demanded breathlessly, on one hand grateful to see his friend settling down a bit, but on the other not comfortable with seeing Jared drugged before he had a chance to wake up properly.
“The more he tosses, the more he will aggravate his wounds and bring himself pain. It’s normal to panic in cases of…”
“I don’t care, stop drugging my brother!” Shannon raged. He was far from certain Jared would appreciate it. Unlike most people in their business - who could not get enough - Jared no longer had any love of the particular kind of detachment created by drugs. It brought him straight back to some of the more dangerous moments of his youth, many having almost ended in death. He could recall several occasions where Jared had turned down local anesthesia when at the dentist, not caring that it would bring him pain. He had always said he would rather hurt than be unable to control his thoughts and movements. Never again, and with Jared it was always all or nothing.
The nurse scoffed and left the room, unwilling to get roped into any arguments. Shannon could hardly blame her for not feeling as though she had overstepped her bounds. The drummer was far from convinced he was in the right. He honestly had no idea what was best for his brother in this particular situation. Shannon felt as though he was stumbling blindly and the only experience he could cling to was that he knew Jared, knew his brother’s demons and the power of some of them.
Shannon resumed trying to keep Jared calm by steadily smoothing away the damp messy hair from the younger man’s face, continuously calling Jared’s name, trying to break through the haze surrounding the singer.
Constance had pulled up one of the chairs to the bedrail, her slender hands now massaging smooth circles into the damp skin on Jared’s bicep, singing an old lullaby softly under her breath. If Shannon had been less distracted, he would likely have recognized the tune as the one their mother used to sing during particularly heartless thunderstorms to ease her boys’ fears.
Tomo had gotten to his feet the moment Jared had started trashing and the guitarist was still leaning over the lightly sedated body of his friend, holding on to one of the man’s hands, unable to come up with anything more effective.
“Jared?” Shannon repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time, not really expecting a result anymore, but not willing to cease if there was any chance that his brother could truly hear him and draw some comfort from a familiar voice.
To everyone’s surprise, bewildered blue eyes shot open seemingly able to focus completely. In a flash, Jared tore his arm away from Tomo’s grasp - not due to any strength of Jared, but rather due to the unexpectedness of the action - and aimed straight for the ventilator, clawing feebly at the plastic tube in a futile attempt to release himself from the invasive contraption.
“No, Jared, stop! Please, calm down. It’s okay. You can’t take it out.” Shannon called, causing Jared to let out a desperate cry that seemed reminiscent of a wounded animal, terror in his eyes as he tried to untangle his arms from the many hands suddenly holding him in place.
In a second, Shannon had both his hands on his brother’s face, keeping Jared’s gaze locked with his own, as he smoothed away the unintentional tears that slipped from the wide blue eyes.
“Look at me, please!” Shannon uttered firmly, his voice carrying a composure that few had ever truly witnessed from the laid-back drummer. With good reason, as it was a tone that a carried significance that was familiar only to the brothers.
The clouded gaze seemed to clear slightly and regain some of the focus it was renowned for, making it obvious who had talked Jared through more panic attacks than anyone else. No one knew how to reach Jared better than Shannon. No voice carried a larger resonance to the singer than that of his older brother. The voice of Shannon was the one Jared knew better than all others, it was the one he had listened to practically daily, all his life. And whether it was offering him praise, teasing him, bickering with him or merely conversing, no voice was more familiar and comforting than the voice of his older brother.
Shannon. Finally something uplifting for Jared to focus on and for the first time, the singer seemed to realise he was in a hospital bed and not still on stage.
“Jared, listen to me. You’re in the hospital. There’s a tube down your throat, little bro, to help your breathe. I know it’s really uncomfortable and hopefully it’ll be out in no time, but you need to calm down. You’re not choking and no one is strangling you, I promise. You’re okay.” The drummer comforted, not once removing his eyes from his brother’s, projecting calm to the best of his efforts. After a few minutes, Shannon reluctantly eased away from the significantly more at relaxed Jared, taking into consideration that there were other people in the room than him and his brother.
Only seconds later Constance Leto had her arms wrapped around her youngest, running her hands through Jared’s greasy hair, muttering comforting nonsense to the best of her abilities. The small family’s combined efforts paid off and the moment Jared was certain that he was safe and with people he could trust, he regained his composure seamlessly.
Shannon could almost see parts of the fabled self-discipline settle in the exhausted blue eyes.
Still enjoying his mother’s comforting presence, Jared gestured towards the tube once more, his desire clear and Tomo immediately left the room to flag down someone who would be able to help.
Ten minutes later had Jared sitting up in a slightly raised bed. An oxygen mask was covering his face, which was lifted periodically by Shannon in order for him to feed his younger brother some ice chips, as they helped soothe the insistent burn in Jared’s throat. The singer had calmed significantly and he now seemed almost remote. With no paralyzing fear of choking to send bursts of adrenaline through his muddled system it was hard for him to stay awake and Jared drifted in and out awareness.
Tomo had given Jared a heartfelt but careful hug before leaving to join Vicki at the hotel, in order to give the small family some peace. After only an hour, Constance had felt it best that she left as well. To leave now broke her heart and made her feel slightly inadequate as a mother, but she knew that this was the point where she needed to bow out and let Shannon do what few others could.
Jared had remained more or less silent after waking up, only giving vague and noncommittal grunts, small nods or the occasional one word answer, but other than that he had seemed content to gaze at the ceiling when awake. It could have been interpreted as exhaustion, but Constance feared that Jared was already trying to rationalize what had happened, as well as coming up with a plan of attack.
When Constance leaned over and gave him a kiss on the forehead, Jared was once again dozing. The blue eyes slipped open in confusion before settling on her face. To Constance’s surprise, Jared gave her a smile filled with compassion and comfort, fully intended to appease her worry and soothe her heart.
She felt as though a wall had erected itself between her and her youngest and Constance had no idea how to break it down. She wanted him to look at her and show the fear he had to be feeling. She wanted him to show her his vulnerability and uncertainty; instead all she got was a hypothetical pat on the shoulder through the reassuring smile, meant to calm her down.
Trying to force more from Jared would be futile. He only ever gave what he wanted, what he had left to give and right now this seemed to be it. Maybe Shannon would get lucky. He had always been on more equal footing with Jared.
Closing the heavy door to Jared’s room behind her, Constance made her way into the silent hallway of the ICU. She did a double take when she found the recently departed Tomo leaning dejectedly against the wall. He had apparently only made it a few feet away from the hospital room and was now sitting on the floor, his slender hands in his lap, palms up. She would have described it as a meditative position, if it was not for the slumped shoulders and defeated appearance. He looked as though he had been crying. With a grimace, Constance lowered herself to the cold linoleum floor - she was no longer as young and agile as she had once been - to sit shoulder to shoulder with the Croat.
“Tomo?” The Croatian’s head snapped up and the red-rimmed eyes looked unfocused as they landed on Constance. His long hair was tucked distractedly behind his ears, tangles appearing here and there.
These past few days had taken a toll on everyone, yet Tomo had remained strangely removed from the chaos. She suspected he had been loath to let himself feel the shock and worry when everyone else seemed to need a shoulder to lean on. Tomo was loyal to the core and would gladly disregard his own needs and fears in favour of staying strong for those he cared about. But judging from the tear tracks on the pale skin and the way the younger man’s breath seemed to hitch imperceptibly every few seconds, it had all caught up to him.
“Sorry,” Tomo said, self-consciously wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his over-sized sweatshirt. He was not supposed to crack now. He was on his way back to see Vicki to let her know that Jared was breathing on his own and conscious, that things were going to be okay, when he had suddenly felt utterly drained. He had only made it a few feet when the floor suddenly seemed like an appealing spot for a brief respite.
“Don’t be.” Constance replied and moved to rest her head on the taller man’s shoulder, her voice carrying nothing but compassion and care. Frankly, it relieved her to see Tomo give way for his emotions. He was part of the family and therefore did not need to shield them from his worries.
“I just can’t help but wonder if this is the end. I know, it’s selfish to worry about my job right now and that’s not how I want it to sound, but I fucking love this band. I love my life and what we're doing. I just don’t see how we can move on from this.” Tomo said, and moved his palms from his lap to hug himself. He felt a bit insensitive to voice it right now, like this, but he hoped Constance would not judge him for being burdened by the heavy what-if’s right now.
Constance said nothing, as there was not really a lot to say. She had no way of predicting how all this would play out. How Jared would deal with it. Instead she snaked her fingers in between Tomo’s arms to grasp his hand in hers, squeezing it comfortingly. The two of them had always gotten along splendidly as they both had a tendency to end up as the third wheel to Jared and Shannon. Everyone had a tendency to end up like a third wheel when in the presence of the Leto brothers.
¤¤¤¤¤¤
Two hours had passed since their mother and Tomo had left. Much of the time had been spent in silence, with Jared falling asleep every other minute. Shannon had settled for watching his brother through the corner of his eye, while writing a letter to the Echelon, as well as looking over various statements for the press. These days, that was his job. Cancelling a tour meant a whole lot of paperwork needed to be filled.
And this was only the pre-emptive work. The label was already breathing down his neck wanting to talk publicity and how to get the utmost from this disaster. And Shannon could hardly blame them; it was their job to worry about shit like that. Right now, the whole world was looking at 30 Seconds To Mars. They were getting airtime on every radio station and everyone was watching their videos. The label could smell the opportunity a mile away; this could cement Mars’ position in the music world. For good. The band could hate it as much as they wanted, but few things sell better than pity - ask Taylor Swift.
“How long was I out for?” Jared rasped from the bed, bleary eyes opening. He had been dozing for the past twenty minutes and Shannon had not expected to hear more from his brother tonight, as the singer had seemed too exhausted to talk and had instead focused mainly on breathing.
Shannon knew Jared was not enquiring about the length of his nap. This conversation had been brewing ever since the singer awoke. The mere fact that Jared had not demanded answers yet was impressive and Shannon attributed it to his brother’s exhaustion. He could not help but suspect that the discussion in front of them would serve to shape the basis for all future communications about this. Folding the papers in his lap, Shannon pursed his lips before asking, “How much do you remember?”
“Did we finish the show?” Jared asked, not giving anything away. “Were we any good? I don’t think we were all that good tonight, Shannon.” The singer swallowed audibly before shaking his head woefully. “We sucked ... I sucked.”
“What do you remember, Jared.” Shannon asked again, this time much more firmly.
Jared sighed, “I don’t even know...” “He licked his dry lips, both hands methodically fondling the bed sheet beneath him. “Pain, I guess. Chaos. I felt like I was drowning. But it wasn’t water in my mouth, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t water.” Shannon answered, allowing no hesitance in his voice even though he badly wanted to flinch. He had already decided that no hesitance was allowed when talking about this. He refused to have it become a subject that was gradually shoved under the carpet, as there was no doubt that his brother would be loathe to discuss it.
The whole world had seen Jared take a hit and he was unlikely to appreciate anyone reminding him of it in the future.
But things needed to be said and the brothers had never been ones to slink around facts. There would be no whispering and no flinching when talking about this. It would not benefit either of them.
“You were shot, Jared.”
Another sigh escaped the singer and this time it sounded defeated. “I figured it might be something like that. How bad is it?” Jared inquired, his voice disturbingly neutral as he seemed to take on the same no-nonsense approach he often deployed when trying to juggle the many balls that every show threw into the air. Blue eyes affixed themselves to a stain on the ceiling that suddenly seemed worthy of great scrutiny. Jared may have seemed composed; however the still unsteady hands betrayed his intense uneasiness. But the singer needed facts, he needed to know it could not possible be as bad as it seemed in his head.
Shannon got to his feet, yet seemed lost as where to go. He settled for standing at the food of Jared’s bed, hazel eyes looking anywhere but at his brother’s leg, which was still placed in the traction suspended above him. He was a bit disconcerted with Jared’s close-to-non-reaction, but he also knew that his brother needed time for things to settle. One of the reasons why he did his job so well was probably his ability to delay his response to pressure.
It would come.
But first, Jared needed facts and Shannon decided to get the easiest one out of the way first. “A bullet fucked with your lung. That was the reason for the large amount of blood, which I’m sure you can remember as vividly as the rest of us. It was also why you were sedated for so long; it took a while for you to be able to breathe on your own.”
“I remember drowning, not being able to breathe. And right now it feels like I have the worst pneumonia in the history of time.” Jared added, happy with an explanation that matched his shaky recollection. “And my leg? It feels weird. What did the doc’s do to it?”
“Your leg... Well, your thigh bone is broken rather spectacularly and they’ve added a whole lot of hardware to your leg, so I guess you can look forward to a life of setting off metal detectors.” Shannon joked lamely, trying to come up with a way to phrase what really needed to be said about Jared’s leg.
“But it’ll heal.” Jared cut in, not noticing the way Shannon paled slightly at his words.
“It’ll be fine...” The drummer offered weakly, before bowing his head in shame at his words.
“Shannon?” Jared asked quietly. His brother’s demeanour unsettled him more than any words ever could. “What are you not telling me?”
“Look,” Shannon said, his shoulder’s straightening as he made his way to Jared’s bedside and sat down, taking the cold hands into his own, “They don’t know you like I do! Nerve damage is very individual.” The older man halted once more and wrestled his gaze away from his brother’s rapidly widening eyes. He could not bear to see the building worry in them. “Walking is not... It’s not going to be right away.” Shannon squeezed the unresponsive fingers that were nestled in his palms. “It might not be at all.”
Jared closed his eyes. To the older man’s consternation, Jared pulled his hands away from Shannon’s grasp and instead wrapped them around himself in a self-soothing gesture. Not to be deterred, Shannon merely toed off his sneakers and laid down next to his brother. Placing his head next to his Jared’s, he loosely rested his muscled arm against his torso, careful not to place any weight near the still healing lung. Ignoring the away turned head, Shannon buried his nose in Jared’s hair. He was dismayed to only smell antiseptic shampoo and not his brother’s unique scent.
“We’ll figure it out, Jay. Neither of us is going anywhere without you.”
As soon as the words left Shannon’s mouth, Jared released a choked sound and started to tremble. Shannon merely pressed himself closer, trying to offer comfort the only way he knew how and prove that he was there for his little brother, that he was not ever leaving him. Shannon would find a way to make it okay.
¤¤¤¤¤¤
3 days later
“Colin, it’s Shannon.” Jared’s older brother did not give Colin a chance to say a word before the continued speaking over the phone. “I need you to come and sit with Jared for a few hours today as Tomo and I have a meeting with the label, they are refusing to cancel the festival dates planned for the summer. We both know that if Jared finds out there might be shows he’s going to work his ass off to try and get ready, even though it’s physically impossible and will only end in disaster. And I don’t need him to injure his scrawny ass because he can’t sit still.” Shannon said, the last sentence ending in absent muttering. The drummer talked fast - almost rambling, making sure that there was no room for small talk in this conversation.
It was hardly a call between friends, quite the contrary. It was a call from a concerned older brother, who was unwilling to leave his younger brother alone. And Colin presented the best and most convenient option.
“Don’t get me wrong, Farrell, you’re not my first choice. But no one else is able and I don’t want him to wake up alone. The nightmares… it’s just, Emma is coming to the meeting as well and I’ve sent Tim and Braxton back to the states. There is no one else right now; our mother won’t be back before next week.” Shannon hesitated. “I’m not letting anyone near Jared in this state, who doesn’t know him. Unfortunately for me, you’re the only candidate left.”
But to Shannon’s irritation, his words were still met with silence. Colin’s reluctance must have been crystal clear, even over the phone, because he could hear the drummer sigh angrily, before scoffing. “Oh for the love of… I can’t fucking believe this shit.” To the Irishman’s shock Shannon abruptly disconnected the call.
Mere seconds later, there was a hard knocking on the door to his hotel room.
Surprised, he opened the door to find a less than pleased Shannon Leto glaring at him in the doorway. Despite Colin being nearly a head taller, the drummer could be incredibly intimidating and the younger man was tempted to shrink away, yet he stood firm and ignored his crumbling resolve. He had not even opened the door fully before his uninvited guest pushed past him.
“What the fuck is going on, Colin?!” Shannon yelled with a spiteful hiss, before condescendingly throwing himself into the narrow lounge chair placed strategically in the corner of the room. Colin ignored the this-better-be-good glare from the American.
“Look, I care about Jared and I’m not going to stress him by showing up unannounced demanding that he deal with the past just because I’ve had a change of heart.” Colin yelled back, not backing down. “Besides, there is no way that you would keep from him that I’m in London, so he obviously knows I’m here. Me staying away is what he wants and we both fucking know that, Shannon!” Colin countered as he lowered himself to the edge of his unmade bed.
With a groan Shannon got to his feet, abandoning his seat in favor of agitated pacing. “I don’t want you to do what Jared wants! There’s an entire army of people out there willing to do whatever the fuck Jared wants!” The drummer raged, trying to make Colin understand.
“I want you to do what he needs right now! And that is for you to prove that you have the guts to stick around when things start to suck real bad.”
Shannon sighed miserably, “We both know that this shit has only just begun, Colin. There is a fucking war in front of Jared right now, and it’s about fucking time you decide which side you want to be on.” Shannon said, his voice calming gradually as his hazel eyes bored into Colin’s brown ones, “I don’t like you, Farrell,” The drummer began, “But, I like you a lot more than some of the others Jared has conjured up over the years... And I’m willing to tolerate your presence in our life again, but only if you start showing some fucking balls.”
Shannon’s statement was answered by silence once more as Colin sank down to sit on the edge of the bed, burying his head in his hands. Messy strands of dark hair fell chaotically around the man’s head.
“He’s not going to welcome you back with open arms, I know that. But I’m not dumb and I’m not fucking blind either. You wouldn’t still be in this shitty hotel room, waiting for a phone call that you deep down know is not going to just come, if you weren’t still in love with my brother.”
“I am.” Colin whispered, his warm dark eyes glistening suspiciously.
“Then fight for him, damn it.” The drummer enforced as he sat down as well.
The Irishman exhaled, but as Colin finally looked up from the floor, the determination that Shannon had been trying to drag forward had settled in the warm gaze.
“What do you need from me?”
¤¤¤¤¤¤
Time for a little self-help.
Panic was awoken in Jared the moment found himself back at The Hive. Something was terribly wrong. Where were all the people? Was he supposed to be alone? And why could he not get up? He was not supposed to be here, he knew that. Jared was lying on the ground looking up. The nauseatingly sweet, metallic smell of decayed blood hung thickly in the air. The stench was overwhelming. The red liquid drenched the walls in mesmerizing splatters, even the sparse furniture was stained with in the disgusting fluid. Cold blood was currently soaking through his clothing and making the floor around his arms slippery. The amount of red everywhere made it feel as though he was looking through a cloudy crimson haze, which floated all around him. So wrong. Everything was all wrong.
Time for a little self-help.
The words echoed around him. He tried desperately to move, but his body was not responding. Paralyzed, he tried to scream for help but no sound escaped him. Icy tendrils of pain started searing through him, he felt as though his flesh was being ripped from his body. He needed to get out of here. He knew he was coming for him, knew he was at The Hive, waiting to take everything away from him.
Time for a little self-help.
Terror clawed at his mind and Jared knew he had to get out, before it was all over. He was trapped. He was going to die.
Someone was talking to him, the voice sounded far away but rapidly getting closer. It was resonating in the room. It was a good voice. A welcome one, though he could not remember where he knew it from. The walls around him started collapsing but instead of dread he felt relief, as they were swapped for the calming darkness from the back of his eyelids.
“It’s okay, Jared, you’re having a nightmare. You’re safe.” The voice said soothingly, slowly cutting through the ties binding him to a world of terrifying nightmares. Jared gradually became aware of the bed beneath him; the quiet whirr of the oxygen flowing through the mask on his face, yet reality was still strangely muted by the multitude of drugs running through his system. He tried to open his eyes, but found that he lacked the strength. Dimly, the singer felt strands of hair being stroked away from his forehead. Hands were on his cheek, brushing away moisture that had leaked from his still closed eyes.
Jared felt the soft pressure of lips against his temple, “Go back to sleep. You’re safe, I promise.” Was whispered close to his ear and a masculine scent filled his nostrils. The familiar cologne stirred feelings of safety within him, accompanied by a sudden yearning he could not explain.
Before long, Jared’s mind released its tenuous hold on consciousness once more. He slipped into a dreamless sleep with the sensation of a hand running through his hair, down the nape of his neck in soothing motions.
¤¤¤¤¤¤
TBC
Pairing: Jared/Colin
Rating: R
Feedback: Need it! Need it so bad.
Disclaimer: NOT TRUE, and hopefully most will never ever happen. I own nothing.
Beta: The illustrious legolastariel made this chapter in a readable. *bows down*.
A/N: Story begins at the O2 Arena concert November 30th.
A/N 2: Dedicated, as always, in its entirety to the ever lovely and always supportive legolastariel! Thanks for the help with this.
A/N 3: I am back on familiar ground and now have access to internet (which is bloody glorious!) so hopefully the chapters will start popping in more often.
Summary: Jared is fighting for his life. Colin is fighting with himself. And the press is fighting for a story.
Jared was drowning. He was dying and he knew it.
He felt like he had been here before, maybe years ago, maybe only hours ago? Darkness was clouding his mind, clouding his thoughts. It was everywhere. So damn dark.
He could not breathe - his lungs would not cooperate. His throat was closed. His lungs were filled with blood, he was sure of it. A tinnitus like sound blared in his skull, shrieking in his ears. He felt trapped underneath a massive body of dark and murky water, crushed by the pressure, his skull caving in.
Panic seized him and Jared could feel his body responding to the feelings cursing through him, his heart hammering in his ribcage as if trying to escape its confines. He wanted to scream and cry but he had no control - could not do anything. He felt powerless and unable to move, yet his limbs seemed to have a life of their own. Terror clawed at his mind and he wanted to surrender to it, wanted to release his grip on this nightmare, yet something brought him spiralling back every time.
The pain.
It was everywhere and all around him. It made him feel breathless as it seared through his body and thought. It roared in his mind, drowning out all other inputs, blocking his senses. He was confused and frightened, like a small child left behind by his loved ones.
Someone was crying. Screaming? It sounded muffled, yet a part of him knew he was the one making those horrible groaning sounds.
More pain, this time it was in his chest. So much damn pain. It was in his legs. It was in his lungs. He could not breathe. He could not move, could not see, could not think - only feel. Pain was his very existence. A voice reached his ears, trying to break through his terror. He was sure someone was saying his name. Shannon? He hoped it was his brother. By now, he had to have reached his part of the stage from his drum kit. Shannon would make everything okay. His brother always did. Shannon would make it stop.
He felt a firm pressure on his forehead, on his scalp. Familiar and comforting. Soothing.
But the odd reprieves seemed to merely intensify the pain his body was screaming at him to alleviate, and more agony reached him. This time it was in his esophagus. Jared felt like his throat had been ripped raw. It was painfully clear to him that someone had forced something down his throat. He could taste blood. The fear that someone was trying to choke him took hold and he could feel his dread intensifying.
He was terrified.
To his shock he suddenly felt his muscles grow even weaker, his hold on reality more tenuous and he felt himself grow indifferent towards the world that surrounded him.
¤¤¤¤¤¤
Jared was terrified and Shannon had no idea how to ease his brother’s fear. The singer was tossing and turning to the best of his meager ability, his angular face covered with a sticky sheen of sweat. Occasionally, dread and agony filled blue eyes would spring open, seeing nothing, fearfully throwing a vacant stare around the room. Locked in a private hell.
The more Jared grasped consciousness, the more agitated and afraid he seemed to become.
All of a sudden nurses flocked around the bed and without any hesitation one of them injected a clear liquid into the IV connected to the back of Jared’s hand. The effect was immediate and within seconds, Jared’s tossing became less frantic; however the fear that marred his strained features remained. The struggling turned defeated and sluggish, but the desperation was still there.
“What did you give him?” Tomo demanded breathlessly, on one hand grateful to see his friend settling down a bit, but on the other not comfortable with seeing Jared drugged before he had a chance to wake up properly.
“The more he tosses, the more he will aggravate his wounds and bring himself pain. It’s normal to panic in cases of…”
“I don’t care, stop drugging my brother!” Shannon raged. He was far from certain Jared would appreciate it. Unlike most people in their business - who could not get enough - Jared no longer had any love of the particular kind of detachment created by drugs. It brought him straight back to some of the more dangerous moments of his youth, many having almost ended in death. He could recall several occasions where Jared had turned down local anesthesia when at the dentist, not caring that it would bring him pain. He had always said he would rather hurt than be unable to control his thoughts and movements. Never again, and with Jared it was always all or nothing.
The nurse scoffed and left the room, unwilling to get roped into any arguments. Shannon could hardly blame her for not feeling as though she had overstepped her bounds. The drummer was far from convinced he was in the right. He honestly had no idea what was best for his brother in this particular situation. Shannon felt as though he was stumbling blindly and the only experience he could cling to was that he knew Jared, knew his brother’s demons and the power of some of them.
Shannon resumed trying to keep Jared calm by steadily smoothing away the damp messy hair from the younger man’s face, continuously calling Jared’s name, trying to break through the haze surrounding the singer.
Constance had pulled up one of the chairs to the bedrail, her slender hands now massaging smooth circles into the damp skin on Jared’s bicep, singing an old lullaby softly under her breath. If Shannon had been less distracted, he would likely have recognized the tune as the one their mother used to sing during particularly heartless thunderstorms to ease her boys’ fears.
Tomo had gotten to his feet the moment Jared had started trashing and the guitarist was still leaning over the lightly sedated body of his friend, holding on to one of the man’s hands, unable to come up with anything more effective.
“Jared?” Shannon repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time, not really expecting a result anymore, but not willing to cease if there was any chance that his brother could truly hear him and draw some comfort from a familiar voice.
To everyone’s surprise, bewildered blue eyes shot open seemingly able to focus completely. In a flash, Jared tore his arm away from Tomo’s grasp - not due to any strength of Jared, but rather due to the unexpectedness of the action - and aimed straight for the ventilator, clawing feebly at the plastic tube in a futile attempt to release himself from the invasive contraption.
“No, Jared, stop! Please, calm down. It’s okay. You can’t take it out.” Shannon called, causing Jared to let out a desperate cry that seemed reminiscent of a wounded animal, terror in his eyes as he tried to untangle his arms from the many hands suddenly holding him in place.
In a second, Shannon had both his hands on his brother’s face, keeping Jared’s gaze locked with his own, as he smoothed away the unintentional tears that slipped from the wide blue eyes.
“Look at me, please!” Shannon uttered firmly, his voice carrying a composure that few had ever truly witnessed from the laid-back drummer. With good reason, as it was a tone that a carried significance that was familiar only to the brothers.
The clouded gaze seemed to clear slightly and regain some of the focus it was renowned for, making it obvious who had talked Jared through more panic attacks than anyone else. No one knew how to reach Jared better than Shannon. No voice carried a larger resonance to the singer than that of his older brother. The voice of Shannon was the one Jared knew better than all others, it was the one he had listened to practically daily, all his life. And whether it was offering him praise, teasing him, bickering with him or merely conversing, no voice was more familiar and comforting than the voice of his older brother.
Shannon. Finally something uplifting for Jared to focus on and for the first time, the singer seemed to realise he was in a hospital bed and not still on stage.
“Jared, listen to me. You’re in the hospital. There’s a tube down your throat, little bro, to help your breathe. I know it’s really uncomfortable and hopefully it’ll be out in no time, but you need to calm down. You’re not choking and no one is strangling you, I promise. You’re okay.” The drummer comforted, not once removing his eyes from his brother’s, projecting calm to the best of his efforts. After a few minutes, Shannon reluctantly eased away from the significantly more at relaxed Jared, taking into consideration that there were other people in the room than him and his brother.
Only seconds later Constance Leto had her arms wrapped around her youngest, running her hands through Jared’s greasy hair, muttering comforting nonsense to the best of her abilities. The small family’s combined efforts paid off and the moment Jared was certain that he was safe and with people he could trust, he regained his composure seamlessly.
Shannon could almost see parts of the fabled self-discipline settle in the exhausted blue eyes.
Still enjoying his mother’s comforting presence, Jared gestured towards the tube once more, his desire clear and Tomo immediately left the room to flag down someone who would be able to help.
Ten minutes later had Jared sitting up in a slightly raised bed. An oxygen mask was covering his face, which was lifted periodically by Shannon in order for him to feed his younger brother some ice chips, as they helped soothe the insistent burn in Jared’s throat. The singer had calmed significantly and he now seemed almost remote. With no paralyzing fear of choking to send bursts of adrenaline through his muddled system it was hard for him to stay awake and Jared drifted in and out awareness.
Tomo had given Jared a heartfelt but careful hug before leaving to join Vicki at the hotel, in order to give the small family some peace. After only an hour, Constance had felt it best that she left as well. To leave now broke her heart and made her feel slightly inadequate as a mother, but she knew that this was the point where she needed to bow out and let Shannon do what few others could.
Jared had remained more or less silent after waking up, only giving vague and noncommittal grunts, small nods or the occasional one word answer, but other than that he had seemed content to gaze at the ceiling when awake. It could have been interpreted as exhaustion, but Constance feared that Jared was already trying to rationalize what had happened, as well as coming up with a plan of attack.
When Constance leaned over and gave him a kiss on the forehead, Jared was once again dozing. The blue eyes slipped open in confusion before settling on her face. To Constance’s surprise, Jared gave her a smile filled with compassion and comfort, fully intended to appease her worry and soothe her heart.
She felt as though a wall had erected itself between her and her youngest and Constance had no idea how to break it down. She wanted him to look at her and show the fear he had to be feeling. She wanted him to show her his vulnerability and uncertainty; instead all she got was a hypothetical pat on the shoulder through the reassuring smile, meant to calm her down.
Trying to force more from Jared would be futile. He only ever gave what he wanted, what he had left to give and right now this seemed to be it. Maybe Shannon would get lucky. He had always been on more equal footing with Jared.
Closing the heavy door to Jared’s room behind her, Constance made her way into the silent hallway of the ICU. She did a double take when she found the recently departed Tomo leaning dejectedly against the wall. He had apparently only made it a few feet away from the hospital room and was now sitting on the floor, his slender hands in his lap, palms up. She would have described it as a meditative position, if it was not for the slumped shoulders and defeated appearance. He looked as though he had been crying. With a grimace, Constance lowered herself to the cold linoleum floor - she was no longer as young and agile as she had once been - to sit shoulder to shoulder with the Croat.
“Tomo?” The Croatian’s head snapped up and the red-rimmed eyes looked unfocused as they landed on Constance. His long hair was tucked distractedly behind his ears, tangles appearing here and there.
These past few days had taken a toll on everyone, yet Tomo had remained strangely removed from the chaos. She suspected he had been loath to let himself feel the shock and worry when everyone else seemed to need a shoulder to lean on. Tomo was loyal to the core and would gladly disregard his own needs and fears in favour of staying strong for those he cared about. But judging from the tear tracks on the pale skin and the way the younger man’s breath seemed to hitch imperceptibly every few seconds, it had all caught up to him.
“Sorry,” Tomo said, self-consciously wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his over-sized sweatshirt. He was not supposed to crack now. He was on his way back to see Vicki to let her know that Jared was breathing on his own and conscious, that things were going to be okay, when he had suddenly felt utterly drained. He had only made it a few feet when the floor suddenly seemed like an appealing spot for a brief respite.
“Don’t be.” Constance replied and moved to rest her head on the taller man’s shoulder, her voice carrying nothing but compassion and care. Frankly, it relieved her to see Tomo give way for his emotions. He was part of the family and therefore did not need to shield them from his worries.
“I just can’t help but wonder if this is the end. I know, it’s selfish to worry about my job right now and that’s not how I want it to sound, but I fucking love this band. I love my life and what we're doing. I just don’t see how we can move on from this.” Tomo said, and moved his palms from his lap to hug himself. He felt a bit insensitive to voice it right now, like this, but he hoped Constance would not judge him for being burdened by the heavy what-if’s right now.
Constance said nothing, as there was not really a lot to say. She had no way of predicting how all this would play out. How Jared would deal with it. Instead she snaked her fingers in between Tomo’s arms to grasp his hand in hers, squeezing it comfortingly. The two of them had always gotten along splendidly as they both had a tendency to end up as the third wheel to Jared and Shannon. Everyone had a tendency to end up like a third wheel when in the presence of the Leto brothers.
¤¤¤¤¤¤
Two hours had passed since their mother and Tomo had left. Much of the time had been spent in silence, with Jared falling asleep every other minute. Shannon had settled for watching his brother through the corner of his eye, while writing a letter to the Echelon, as well as looking over various statements for the press. These days, that was his job. Cancelling a tour meant a whole lot of paperwork needed to be filled.
And this was only the pre-emptive work. The label was already breathing down his neck wanting to talk publicity and how to get the utmost from this disaster. And Shannon could hardly blame them; it was their job to worry about shit like that. Right now, the whole world was looking at 30 Seconds To Mars. They were getting airtime on every radio station and everyone was watching their videos. The label could smell the opportunity a mile away; this could cement Mars’ position in the music world. For good. The band could hate it as much as they wanted, but few things sell better than pity - ask Taylor Swift.
“How long was I out for?” Jared rasped from the bed, bleary eyes opening. He had been dozing for the past twenty minutes and Shannon had not expected to hear more from his brother tonight, as the singer had seemed too exhausted to talk and had instead focused mainly on breathing.
Shannon knew Jared was not enquiring about the length of his nap. This conversation had been brewing ever since the singer awoke. The mere fact that Jared had not demanded answers yet was impressive and Shannon attributed it to his brother’s exhaustion. He could not help but suspect that the discussion in front of them would serve to shape the basis for all future communications about this. Folding the papers in his lap, Shannon pursed his lips before asking, “How much do you remember?”
“Did we finish the show?” Jared asked, not giving anything away. “Were we any good? I don’t think we were all that good tonight, Shannon.” The singer swallowed audibly before shaking his head woefully. “We sucked ... I sucked.”
“What do you remember, Jared.” Shannon asked again, this time much more firmly.
Jared sighed, “I don’t even know...” “He licked his dry lips, both hands methodically fondling the bed sheet beneath him. “Pain, I guess. Chaos. I felt like I was drowning. But it wasn’t water in my mouth, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t water.” Shannon answered, allowing no hesitance in his voice even though he badly wanted to flinch. He had already decided that no hesitance was allowed when talking about this. He refused to have it become a subject that was gradually shoved under the carpet, as there was no doubt that his brother would be loathe to discuss it.
The whole world had seen Jared take a hit and he was unlikely to appreciate anyone reminding him of it in the future.
But things needed to be said and the brothers had never been ones to slink around facts. There would be no whispering and no flinching when talking about this. It would not benefit either of them.
“You were shot, Jared.”
Another sigh escaped the singer and this time it sounded defeated. “I figured it might be something like that. How bad is it?” Jared inquired, his voice disturbingly neutral as he seemed to take on the same no-nonsense approach he often deployed when trying to juggle the many balls that every show threw into the air. Blue eyes affixed themselves to a stain on the ceiling that suddenly seemed worthy of great scrutiny. Jared may have seemed composed; however the still unsteady hands betrayed his intense uneasiness. But the singer needed facts, he needed to know it could not possible be as bad as it seemed in his head.
Shannon got to his feet, yet seemed lost as where to go. He settled for standing at the food of Jared’s bed, hazel eyes looking anywhere but at his brother’s leg, which was still placed in the traction suspended above him. He was a bit disconcerted with Jared’s close-to-non-reaction, but he also knew that his brother needed time for things to settle. One of the reasons why he did his job so well was probably his ability to delay his response to pressure.
It would come.
But first, Jared needed facts and Shannon decided to get the easiest one out of the way first. “A bullet fucked with your lung. That was the reason for the large amount of blood, which I’m sure you can remember as vividly as the rest of us. It was also why you were sedated for so long; it took a while for you to be able to breathe on your own.”
“I remember drowning, not being able to breathe. And right now it feels like I have the worst pneumonia in the history of time.” Jared added, happy with an explanation that matched his shaky recollection. “And my leg? It feels weird. What did the doc’s do to it?”
“Your leg... Well, your thigh bone is broken rather spectacularly and they’ve added a whole lot of hardware to your leg, so I guess you can look forward to a life of setting off metal detectors.” Shannon joked lamely, trying to come up with a way to phrase what really needed to be said about Jared’s leg.
“But it’ll heal.” Jared cut in, not noticing the way Shannon paled slightly at his words.
“It’ll be fine...” The drummer offered weakly, before bowing his head in shame at his words.
“Shannon?” Jared asked quietly. His brother’s demeanour unsettled him more than any words ever could. “What are you not telling me?”
“Look,” Shannon said, his shoulder’s straightening as he made his way to Jared’s bedside and sat down, taking the cold hands into his own, “They don’t know you like I do! Nerve damage is very individual.” The older man halted once more and wrestled his gaze away from his brother’s rapidly widening eyes. He could not bear to see the building worry in them. “Walking is not... It’s not going to be right away.” Shannon squeezed the unresponsive fingers that were nestled in his palms. “It might not be at all.”
Jared closed his eyes. To the older man’s consternation, Jared pulled his hands away from Shannon’s grasp and instead wrapped them around himself in a self-soothing gesture. Not to be deterred, Shannon merely toed off his sneakers and laid down next to his brother. Placing his head next to his Jared’s, he loosely rested his muscled arm against his torso, careful not to place any weight near the still healing lung. Ignoring the away turned head, Shannon buried his nose in Jared’s hair. He was dismayed to only smell antiseptic shampoo and not his brother’s unique scent.
“We’ll figure it out, Jay. Neither of us is going anywhere without you.”
As soon as the words left Shannon’s mouth, Jared released a choked sound and started to tremble. Shannon merely pressed himself closer, trying to offer comfort the only way he knew how and prove that he was there for his little brother, that he was not ever leaving him. Shannon would find a way to make it okay.
¤¤¤¤¤¤
3 days later
“Colin, it’s Shannon.” Jared’s older brother did not give Colin a chance to say a word before the continued speaking over the phone. “I need you to come and sit with Jared for a few hours today as Tomo and I have a meeting with the label, they are refusing to cancel the festival dates planned for the summer. We both know that if Jared finds out there might be shows he’s going to work his ass off to try and get ready, even though it’s physically impossible and will only end in disaster. And I don’t need him to injure his scrawny ass because he can’t sit still.” Shannon said, the last sentence ending in absent muttering. The drummer talked fast - almost rambling, making sure that there was no room for small talk in this conversation.
It was hardly a call between friends, quite the contrary. It was a call from a concerned older brother, who was unwilling to leave his younger brother alone. And Colin presented the best and most convenient option.
“Don’t get me wrong, Farrell, you’re not my first choice. But no one else is able and I don’t want him to wake up alone. The nightmares… it’s just, Emma is coming to the meeting as well and I’ve sent Tim and Braxton back to the states. There is no one else right now; our mother won’t be back before next week.” Shannon hesitated. “I’m not letting anyone near Jared in this state, who doesn’t know him. Unfortunately for me, you’re the only candidate left.”
But to Shannon’s irritation, his words were still met with silence. Colin’s reluctance must have been crystal clear, even over the phone, because he could hear the drummer sigh angrily, before scoffing. “Oh for the love of… I can’t fucking believe this shit.” To the Irishman’s shock Shannon abruptly disconnected the call.
Mere seconds later, there was a hard knocking on the door to his hotel room.
Surprised, he opened the door to find a less than pleased Shannon Leto glaring at him in the doorway. Despite Colin being nearly a head taller, the drummer could be incredibly intimidating and the younger man was tempted to shrink away, yet he stood firm and ignored his crumbling resolve. He had not even opened the door fully before his uninvited guest pushed past him.
“What the fuck is going on, Colin?!” Shannon yelled with a spiteful hiss, before condescendingly throwing himself into the narrow lounge chair placed strategically in the corner of the room. Colin ignored the this-better-be-good glare from the American.
“Look, I care about Jared and I’m not going to stress him by showing up unannounced demanding that he deal with the past just because I’ve had a change of heart.” Colin yelled back, not backing down. “Besides, there is no way that you would keep from him that I’m in London, so he obviously knows I’m here. Me staying away is what he wants and we both fucking know that, Shannon!” Colin countered as he lowered himself to the edge of his unmade bed.
With a groan Shannon got to his feet, abandoning his seat in favor of agitated pacing. “I don’t want you to do what Jared wants! There’s an entire army of people out there willing to do whatever the fuck Jared wants!” The drummer raged, trying to make Colin understand.
“I want you to do what he needs right now! And that is for you to prove that you have the guts to stick around when things start to suck real bad.”
Shannon sighed miserably, “We both know that this shit has only just begun, Colin. There is a fucking war in front of Jared right now, and it’s about fucking time you decide which side you want to be on.” Shannon said, his voice calming gradually as his hazel eyes bored into Colin’s brown ones, “I don’t like you, Farrell,” The drummer began, “But, I like you a lot more than some of the others Jared has conjured up over the years... And I’m willing to tolerate your presence in our life again, but only if you start showing some fucking balls.”
Shannon’s statement was answered by silence once more as Colin sank down to sit on the edge of the bed, burying his head in his hands. Messy strands of dark hair fell chaotically around the man’s head.
“He’s not going to welcome you back with open arms, I know that. But I’m not dumb and I’m not fucking blind either. You wouldn’t still be in this shitty hotel room, waiting for a phone call that you deep down know is not going to just come, if you weren’t still in love with my brother.”
“I am.” Colin whispered, his warm dark eyes glistening suspiciously.
“Then fight for him, damn it.” The drummer enforced as he sat down as well.
The Irishman exhaled, but as Colin finally looked up from the floor, the determination that Shannon had been trying to drag forward had settled in the warm gaze.
“What do you need from me?”
¤¤¤¤¤¤
Time for a little self-help.
Panic was awoken in Jared the moment found himself back at The Hive. Something was terribly wrong. Where were all the people? Was he supposed to be alone? And why could he not get up? He was not supposed to be here, he knew that. Jared was lying on the ground looking up. The nauseatingly sweet, metallic smell of decayed blood hung thickly in the air. The stench was overwhelming. The red liquid drenched the walls in mesmerizing splatters, even the sparse furniture was stained with in the disgusting fluid. Cold blood was currently soaking through his clothing and making the floor around his arms slippery. The amount of red everywhere made it feel as though he was looking through a cloudy crimson haze, which floated all around him. So wrong. Everything was all wrong.
Time for a little self-help.
The words echoed around him. He tried desperately to move, but his body was not responding. Paralyzed, he tried to scream for help but no sound escaped him. Icy tendrils of pain started searing through him, he felt as though his flesh was being ripped from his body. He needed to get out of here. He knew he was coming for him, knew he was at The Hive, waiting to take everything away from him.
Time for a little self-help.
Terror clawed at his mind and Jared knew he had to get out, before it was all over. He was trapped. He was going to die.
Someone was talking to him, the voice sounded far away but rapidly getting closer. It was resonating in the room. It was a good voice. A welcome one, though he could not remember where he knew it from. The walls around him started collapsing but instead of dread he felt relief, as they were swapped for the calming darkness from the back of his eyelids.
“It’s okay, Jared, you’re having a nightmare. You’re safe.” The voice said soothingly, slowly cutting through the ties binding him to a world of terrifying nightmares. Jared gradually became aware of the bed beneath him; the quiet whirr of the oxygen flowing through the mask on his face, yet reality was still strangely muted by the multitude of drugs running through his system. He tried to open his eyes, but found that he lacked the strength. Dimly, the singer felt strands of hair being stroked away from his forehead. Hands were on his cheek, brushing away moisture that had leaked from his still closed eyes.
Jared felt the soft pressure of lips against his temple, “Go back to sleep. You’re safe, I promise.” Was whispered close to his ear and a masculine scent filled his nostrils. The familiar cologne stirred feelings of safety within him, accompanied by a sudden yearning he could not explain.
Before long, Jared’s mind released its tenuous hold on consciousness once more. He slipped into a dreamless sleep with the sensation of a hand running through his hair, down the nape of his neck in soothing motions.
¤¤¤¤¤¤
TBC