To Save A Life - Ch.2
Chapter 1:
kausingkayn.livejournal.com/599.html
Jack sat in his wheelchair, staring out of the window. Outside, the grass flowed gently in the wind as the more eligible patients of the long-term hospital walked or wheeled around, playing outside in the calmness or just sitting, gazing out into the distance, enjoying the peace. But Jack didn't notice any of this. He was too busy staring at the sky. He glanced at the clouds, soaked in the bright blue sky, and wished with everything he had and all that he didn't to be up there again.
The sky was where he belonged, and he knew it. Up so close to the stars, soaring thousands of feet in the air, feeling like a hero to all of the world. He didn't stop the tears from falling down his cheeks, he didn't want to. They weren't just for him, though. Oh no, he wasn't that selfish. The tears were for his comrades. The doctors and nurses had told him, once he had calmed down, what had happened to his team. Owen had been shot up in the air as he was parachuting down, his body found mangled in some trees. Toshiko had been a lot more fortunate, dieing from a direct hit to her plane's cockpit. Suzie hadn't been able to eject, and had stayed in her plane till the end. Only Gray's body hadn't been found, and while there was enough blood at the crash site for the man to be dead, they didn't say it. 'Missing in action, presumed dead' the report had said. For some reason, that was worse than his brother being dead. Gray had been all that Jack had, and he had let him down, sitting here in a hospital, being well taken care of while Gray could be out there, a prisoner of war, or even dead. Not knowing was tearing him apart.
Jack reached out toward the window, wanting to get closer. But from the height of his wheelchair, he had to be several feet away from the window in order to see the skyline. Determined, he rolled a little bit forward until his feet hit the wall. He heard the thump and saw his toes bend from the sudden contact, but he didn't feel it. He couldn't feel anything from the waist down. 'paralysis.' They had said, along with some other large words. He hadn't heard anything solid yet, and held on to the thought that he would one day be able to walk again. That single thought -that and the fact that Gray could still be alive- kept Jack from suicidal thoughts.
He braced himself, his hands curling around the armrests of the wheelchair, and pushed upward. Jack felt himself being heaved upward, and for a moment the sky was there, closer, right out the window. Then, a shrill alarm sounded, alerted a nurse that he had attempted to crawl out of his wheelchair, and his concentration was broken. Jack fell back but hit the wheelchair at an odd angle, and instead tumbled painfully to the floor.
He lay there on the floor, not enough will power to pull himself up. He watched from a sideways view as a nurse, along with the doctor Jones that he had first seen at the place, rushed into view. Two pairs of hands reached under his arms and pulled him back up and into his rightful place in the wheelchair.
"Captain." The doctor said, hands placed firmly on her hips. "If you keep doing that, we'll have to restrict you from using your chair."
He sighed in defeat, but didn't nod or agree in any verbal way. He had already asked about going outside, but they wouldn't let him. It had been a pain to get them to allow him to even leave his bed. He had only been awake for a little under 24 hours, and he was weak. However, Jack was nothing but persistent, and the doctor had finally given in. It would have been easier to flirt with her, for she was not bad looking, and he could tell that she fancied him, if only a little. However, he wasn't in the mood for that kind of thing at the moment.
Doctor Martha Jones grabbed a hold of the back of Jack's wheelchair and pushed him over to his bed, where she lowered the railing before motioning for the other nurse to help her. Jack wanted to protest, but didn't, knowing that he wouldn't have been able to get himself back into the bed if he had wanted to. It made him sick, thinking how only a few days ago he was fully independent, and now, he was completely dependent on other people. He couldn't even go to the damn bathroom by himself; they had to get a male nurse to help him in and out of his wheelchair. He felt useless.
Once he was situated back on the bed, Martha gave him a soft smile, checked all the machines, and left him with the nurse. The young woman quickly set him up with a tray that consisted of green jello, some mashed potatoes, and some runny stuff that Jack thinks was supposed to be beef soup. He made a face, but ate it anyway, his hunger getting the best of him. He glanced up from his feast to see the nurse still standing there, watching him.
"Yeah?" Jack asked, a little annoyed.
She shook her head and left, leaving the Captain on his own. He finished his food and pushed the tray aside, then threw his blanket off his legs. Focusing, he willed his toes to move, just a little. He imagined them wiggling, moving around, his legs pumping, walking, running.
They didn't move.
He let out a sob of frustration and grabbed the sides of his legs with both hands. He didn't feel anything. He squeezed them, slapped them, hit them. Still nothing. Desperate to feel something, he reached out for his plate and wrapped his fingers around the fork. With all him might, he closed his eyes and drove the plastic utensil into his leg.
Nothing.
He opened his eyes to see blood slowly seeping from his leg, where the fork was sticking out of it. He pulled the fork out of his leg and flung it across the room, letting out an angry yell. Why was he here? Why did it have to be him who survived? Jack buried his head in his hands and wept.
That was where the nurse found him when she came to take his tray away. His leg was still bleeding, and she took a moment to call for assistance before applying pressure. Jack was still shaking when Martha arrived, a look of worry on her face. The nurse moved aside, allowing the doctor to apply the pressure while she grabbed what she needed to patch up the patient.
Martha backed away, watching the nurse work, glancing ever so often at Jack, who just stared in silence, his eyes red and puffy as the young nurse worked on his leg. Then, his desperate eyes turned to the doctor, pleading begging. "Can you tell me something, Jones. Please."
"What is it, Jack?" She asked, although she already knew exactly what he wanted to know.
"Will I…" He paused, taking a moment to compose himself. "Will I ever be able to walk again?"
Martha Jones took a deep breath, then started to respond, latching on to Jack's eyes. She wouldn't look away, not when delivering this news. "We aren't completely sure, but you have experienced spinal cord damage…the paralysis is permanent."
Any hope that had been in Jack's eyes quickly drained away. His face fell even more, and he started to shake his head, slow at first, then quicker. "No….no no no..no!"
He thrust his hand out, flesh coming in contact with the wall. The young nurse working on his leg jumped back, scared. Jack reached for his food tray, which was still within reach, and grabbed it, throwing it across the room with a bang. Still uttering the string of 'nos' he grabbed his legs and flipped them over the side of the bed, pushing off with his hands. He fell to the ground, all the air being pushed out of his lungs as he landed.
Martha was already reaching in a drawer for a syringe that was full of a strong sedative. However, she placed it back when the sound of sobs came from the fallen man. She walked over to him and sat on the ground, pulling the grown man onto her lap. He clung on to her tightly, letting everything out, crying the hardest he had in a long time.
--xXx--
Ianto Jones walked through the front door of the long-term care unit and gave a quick smile to the nurse at the front station. It was a fake smile, like most of the ones he gave these days. The woman smiled back and gave a soft hello, using his name. They all knew his name, most people would learn it if someone came to their work every day for two years.
He took one of the coffees out of his little holder and handed it to the woman. He had taken a lunch break about half an hour ago, stopping by a small fish and chips store. He had eaten half of it, saved the rest for later, then stopped by his favorite coffee shop. It was one of the only places that made some to rival his, and he respected them for it. He ordered several coffees, for the nursing staff as well as for himself, before returning to the hospital. He didn't like being away from Lisa. Being in the room was hard, but being away was harder. He was scared that something would happen if he wasn't there. What if she woke up and he was out eating lunch? He wouldn't let that happen. Ever.
He walked passed a young woman with black hair. She was wearing a leather jacket with black jeans, and had in her hands a large brown bag that looked like it was full with personal items such as clothes and pictures. She was also holding flowers, and a large card. She smiled at him as he walked past, and he noticed that she had a distinguishable gap in between her front two teeth. Ianto didn't bother to smile back, he just kept walking. His least favorite part of the day was the long walk down the hallway.
It smelled of death and despair, and he couldn't stop himself from glancing in to the other rooms, then turning away, wishing he didn't. He paused, however, when he came to the second to last door, the one almost directly across from Lisa's. It had been empty ever since that military lieutenant died from a fever. But now, there was a man in there. His eyes were red from crying, and he looked so pale and weak. And there was this air around him, of defeat. Ianto sensed that he had once been a strong, great man. Was this the person he had heard screaming the night before? He continued to stare, until the man looked up and stared right back. Ianto, embarrassed at being caught, looked down to the ground and hustled into Lisa's room, preparing for another long day.
--xXx--
Jack felt like someone was watching him. Glancing up, he saw a young man in his doorway, just staring. He was wearing a very sharp suit and holding a tray that carried several cups of coffee, while his other hands held on to a book. Jack stared back, taking in his hollow eyes and sunken cheeks. Then, the man was gone, and Jack was on his own again.
But not for long.
He had barely glanced away from the doorway when a knock came, and he was forced to look up again. What he saw brought tears to his eyes. "Gwen…"
The woman looked at him, her lip wobbling. She walked forward slowly, unsteadily. She put the bag she was carrying on the ground, and placed the flowers on Jack's bedside, the card going right next to it. Then, unable to hold back any longer, she burst into tears, flinging her arms around Jack's neck. He hugged her closely, smelling her hair, her clothes, happy that she was alive. He wanted to cry, he really did. His eyes stung with the effort, but no tears would come. He had expended them all on the floor in the embrace of Dr Jones, and had nothing left.
Gwen finally pulled back, holding him tightly, her eyes red. "I got the news and was so scared, Jack. I should have been there…"
He shook his head, covering her hands with his own. "Don't say that, Gwen. I don't know what I'd do if everyone was…..gone."
Her eyes welled up again, but she turned, reaching for the card. "This is from the other boys from base. They all signed it."
Jack tried to smile, but wasn't able to. He glanced at the card then put it aside. He didn't want to read the fake words that were written, he didn't need a reminder of how many other men were fine and still living their lives, while he was stuck in this hell.
"And I brought some of your things." Gwen grabbed the bag from the ground and pulled out a few photos. One was of Jack and Gray, the other of Jack and the whole team. The final one was Jack in his full RAF uniform, receiving a medal from the queen herself.
Gwen sat them up on the small bedside table, then pulled out the large, antique RAF coat that flyers used to wear during the second World War. Jack had found it in an old thrift store one day and automatically fell in love. He wore the thing whenever off duty, and the sight of made Jack's heart skip a beat. He grabbed it and closed his eyes, his fingers rubbing over the rough material. He looked up at Gwen and gave a pathetic smile. "Thanks."
She nodded, then sat down in the chair next to his bed. "I called the other day, but they said you weren't ready for visitors yet."
Jack nodded, still grasping his coat. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear his team in the mess hall, eating and joking like they weren't in the middle of a war. Almost.
"So, do you know how long until you can get reinstated?" Gwen asked, completely innocent, not knowing about Jack's condition. However, he tensed up, and shot her a look that could kill.
"I'm not coming back." He said, choking on his words.
Gwen frowned, not understanding. "Why not? I understand what happened was horrible, Jack, but I didn't think it would stop you from flying."
Jack lost it. He had never been one for patience before, and now it was completely gone. "Understand? Do you really understand, Gwen? Did you hear Tosh or Suzie's screams as they were shot from the sky, or the ragged howls of Owen as he was shot to death out of the fucking sky?! No! Don't you dare say you understand!" He was yelling and pointing and shaking.
"And I might as well be dead, too! I'm paralyzed, Gwen. Fucking paralyzed! I can't walk! I can't fly! I can't do anything!" His yells turned to screams, and Gwen started to cry again, silent tears falling down her cheeks.
"I'm so sorry Jack…I didn't know…" She started, reaching out to touch his hand. But he pulled back, to angry at the situation to care.
"Just leave!" Jack pointed to the door, and Gwen listened to him, fleeing out of the room. Jack just sat there for a few moments in the silence. Then, silent sobs racked his body and he started to shake. He couldn't do this. He thought he could, but seeing Gwen, so healthy and alive, he couldn't take it anymore.
--xXx--
It was nearing the middle of the night when Ianto was woken. At first he thought he had awoken because of the uncomfortable position he had fallen asleep in, his head leaning on the cool side of the hospital bed, his fingers entwined with Lisa's. But, when he listened closely, he could hear the squeak of wheels going down the long hallway. Curious as to who was out at this time of night, Ianto got up and rubbed his eyes before poking his head out of the room.
He caught the back end of a wheelchair disappearing, and a moment later he heard the soft ding of the elevator. He knew that the long-term ward went up at least three levels, and that there were a few more above that. Ianto stepped out of Lisa's room and closed the door softly behind him before creeping down the hall. He got to the elevator just in time to see what floor the mysterious wheelchair person had gotten off at. The roof.
Now a bit worried, Ianto opened the door next to the elevator and took to climbing the steps two at a time, rushing to the top of the staircase and out into the night sky.
He was sweating when he reached the top, and when he flung the door open he gasped for breath. The night sky was beautiful, the stars shining so brightly from the roof. They twinkled and taunted, luring anyone who was watching with their promise of the universe. Ianto tore his gaze away to find a man in a wheelchair staring upward.
The Welshman slowly approached the man, realizing as he got closer that it was the same man who had caught him staring today. Ianto paused, not wanting to get any closer or interrupt the man. The man was wearing an old RAF coat, probably from the world war two era. From the dim light of the night sky Ianto could see that the man was crying.
Then, suddenly, the man turned his wheelchair and headed straight for the edge of the building. Thrown into action, Ianto started running, knowing what the man was going to do.
The older man stopped his wheelchair right before the edge of the building and slowly tried to push himself up. He pushed himself arms length out of the wheel chair, and Ianto watched his eyes close as the man let go and started to fall forward.
"No!" Ianto yelled as he propelled himself toward the man, connecting squarely with his torso and throwing both of them onto the floor of the roof, precariously close to the edge. Ianto grabbed the man and rolled him away from the edge so that they were both safe.
He lay there, panting, still holding onto the man, who was a dead weight on top of him. Ianto gently rolled out from under him and sat up, helping the man up as well. "Are you ok?"
The other man, when Ianto pulled him into a sitting position, opened his eyes slowly, frowning when he realized that he was still on the roof.
"I just want to fly." He whispered.