Outlier, Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Luke’s brain was the most beautiful thing Reid had ever seen.
Though not the brain, really, so much as the damage. And not the damage so much as what it signified. That Reid was right.
Not that there had ever been any doubt.
And not that he would ever admit to nearly suffocating from held breath in the time it took from Luke’s entering the MRI machine to the first images appearing on the screen of the workstation. He felt Luke’s slow trip into dark confinement, the uncertainty, the powerlessness. When the screen finally flickered with reconstructed images, Reid’s exhalation filled the observation room, startling the already jumpy male technologist, who had previously dared question Reid’s presence. The entirety of Reid’s attention was centered on those windows into Luke, on grainy grays and blacks, shades of scalloped shapes - familiar images he’d seen in the thousands, and yet, suddenly, almost as if he’d never seen them before. As if this were the first time, the only time, it had ever counted.
From now on his happy place would be slightly more specific.
Especially when he saw the first glimpse of white, a ghostly tendril smudging through the darkness, like a wisp of curling smoke. Then more images, more white - snowy patches spreading in just the right places. Reid had never been so happy to see too much fluid in a brain.
Luke.
Luke would be safe.
Reid closed his eyes. When he opened them he saw Luke’s legs moving. Without thinking, Reid reached over the technologist to press a button on the workstation. Another seizure?
“Luke? Is everything OK?” Reid kept his voice level.
Luke stilled. A moment passed. “Is that you, God?”
Reid could hear the smile. He released another long breath, this time through curving lips. “Just try not to move.”
“Sorry. Itchy.”
Reid released the button - followed by his smile upon noticing the incredulity being directed at him from the technologist. Reid’s face quickly collapsed into fearsome inexpressiveness; the tech’s neck cracked as his face snapped back to the screen. He didn’t see Reid take out his phone. Didn’t hear the picture-taking click.
Reid stepped back, letting the tech finish the scan with a minimum of back-seat interference. Though the squeeze was still in force, breathing had eased. The banshees in his head had decreased their volume from hemorrhage-inducing to merely migrainous.
Reid wouldn’t lose him. Not yet.
After speaking briefly on the phone with Luke’s temporary nephrologist, Reid moved closer to the window separating him from Luke. He alternated focus between where Luke lay and the screen showing pictures of what was going on inside him. Inside his brain. Though there was nothing Reid respected more than the human brain, never before had it felt like such a privilege, such a gift, to be allowed inside. Inside Luke.
Why him? What is it about him?
Reid searched the images for clues, for superpower-bestowing anomalies. Is that…in the left pre-frontal cortex…no…maybe I should order an fMRI, something more powerful…
Maybe he should order one for himself. Maybe all of…this was nothing more than the result of a brain tumor. Maybe he was the one with altered mental status, the one hallucinating. Maybe none of this was real. Maybe Luke wasn’t…
Reid noted the pang. He decided to discard this line of inquiry, these alternate hypotheses - if they were true, he wouldn’t want to know.
In that moment, Reid reluctantly acknowledged that an objective reality that didn’t include Luke in some form wasn’t worth pursuing. The alternative would hurt too much. If it came down to it, Reid would choose his perceived existence over absolute truth.
What the…what am I saying? That I’d close my eyes to what’s real? That I’d rather be sick? Live in a fantasy world? Have feelings for a m…
Reid drew a ragged breath. The tech knew better than to notice.
Things had changed. That was fact. The specter of losing Luke had been a catalyst, crystallizing Reid’s priorities. He wanted Luke in his life. He accepted this conclusion. The next step was to figure out what that meant and how to achieve it.
At the very least Reid could stop being so dickish. Pack up the flamethrower. Stop pushing him away, hurting him out of habit. Out of fear. Reid could try to look for things they had in common, over which they could…relate, or bond, or whatever the humans were calling it these days. Reid would even do his best to repress the eye rolls. Better yet would be engaging in something genuinely productive - perhaps Reid could try to act as a sort of mentor, though he could think of nothing he knew that Luke might be interested in learning, except possibly the art of the sandwich. Reid supposed he could always use an apprentice.
Maybe they could simply aim for friendship - he decided to revisit the idea. They could do what friends do, things Reid had heard rumors of. Watch a game together. Shoot pool. Play chess - yes, I could teach him chess. Reid began to warm to the idea, to the image of them spending time together, their combativeness channeled in service of a royal pursuit. Maybe I do have something to offer him. The warming trend continued as Reid envisioned engaging Luke’s agile mind; he had no doubt Luke would be able to learn quickly, to see connections. He already saw so much…
Or movies - right, they could watch movies. Friends did that. Reid could make sure that Luke was sufficiently schooled in the classics, starting with the Al Pacino oeuvre - “The Godfather,” “Dog Day Afternoon.” Real movies. He could deprogram Luke of any art-house pretentions that might have been a legacy of the ex (is he still an ex?).
Friends also commiserated about work. Reid supposed he wouldn’t mind hearing about whatever bleeding-heart project Luke’s foundation was funding. Especially if there was food involved - they could go out to eat; friends did that, too. Luke could complain about…shipping things, and Reid could complain about everyone, and they could both complain about whomever they were seeing…
This time the tech did turn his head toward the source of the strangled sound. He quickly turned back, no doubt deciding it was better not to know what had caused Reid’s skin to sallow to such a singular shade. The tech instead rose; the scan had ended. He left the small room, walking over to the machine as Luke’s prone body emerged from the diagnostic tunnel. After removing Luke’s headphones, the tech disappeared.
Reid was standing in the doorway of the observation room. He slowly approached Luke.
Luke’s smile was dreamy, his blinking sluggish. “You’re here.”
Reid remembered to breathe. “I said I would be. How’s your vision?” Reid wielded his penlight.
“Still two of you.” Luke’s voice was a happy slur. “And I thought one was bad.”
“Is there any pain? Dizziness? Any odd smells?”
Luke rolled his head from side to side on the table. “I still have music in my head, though.”
Reid froze for only a second. “What were they playing for you in there?”
“Duran Duran. Made me think of you.”
Reid lifted a brow.
Luke’s grin grew until his eyes nearly disappeared. “‘Hungry Like the Wolf.’”
Reid let himself return the smile.
“So, were you checking out my grey matter?”
“Was more in interested in the white, actually.”
“How’d it look?”
“Swollen. There were areas indicating vasogenic edema in your parieto-occipital and posterior-temporal lobes.”
Luke hummed. “Does that mean this is one of those times when I should be freaking out?” His eyes smiled into Reid’s. “Am I dying, Doctor?”
“Not quite yet.” Reid didn’t realize he’d yet to put away his own smile. “It means the lesions are where I was hoping they would be. You’re suffering from something called Posterior Reversible Encephalopathy Syndrome. There are areas of water build-up in the back of your brain. The swelling is causing your symptoms.”
“Okay. And that’s good because…?”
“Because of the word ‘reversible.’”
“Mmm, yes…reversible good. More things should be reversible.”
Reid fought to anchor his awareness in the present.
“So, Doc, how do we reverse it?”
“We adjust your anti-rejection meds. It’s probably the tacrolimus.”
“Huh. That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Luke seemed to be struggling to stay awake. “Wow, that was fast. Even Dr. House takes a full episode. And he almost never gets it right on the first try.” His words were becoming less distinct. His smile drifted, as if he were straddling dimensions. “Knew I could trust you.”
Reid rested his hand next to Luke. The tech returned, preparing to take Luke back to his room.
“Let yourself sleep, Luke.” Reid’s hand pressed against the hard plastic. “You should feel better in the morning.”
Luke’s blinks were in slow-motion. “You’ll be here?”
“I’ll be here.”
Breaking away from Luke’s gaze was like pulling taffy. Ultimately successful, Reid turned to leave. Just as he was lifting his hand, Luke grasped it.
Reid turned back. He was caught again in Luke’s eyes, his smile - they were both glowing. Everything about Luke glowed.
Slowly, with exquisite care, Luke lifted the back of Reid’s hand, bringing it to his lips.
He kissed it.
Luke’s eyes closing in sleep, his hold loosened. Reid extracted his hand, backing away as the tech approached with a gurney. Reid kept going, backing out the door and into the hall, stepping to the side as Luke was wheeled past. Reid watched him disappear through the swinging doors. He melted into the wall.
The squeeze had reversed.
It was as if an oversized balloon catheter were being inflated in his chest. As if his heart were expanding - physically expanding, pressing against ribs and spine, rocking his core with each beat. As if the heart-balloon were lifting him up and out, filling the hallway, the hospital, blurring his borders, sending him into the sky, dissolving him into light and vibration. The view…he could see everything. There were no walls in his way, no confined spaces. Just horizon. And truth.
I have feelings for a man.
The sky pulsed. Clouds cleared.
I have feelings for Luke.