Liberty or Possessions Chapter 17 Epilogue
Liberty or Possessions Chapter 17
Epilogue
Chapter 17 Song by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-cB7_Wonxso
Warnings: Mentions of: Drug Use
Mikkel woke to a stiff neck and a hurting back. Hospitals were notoriously terrible places to sleep and he had not slept much anywhere else over the past week. Two nights he had been in a hotel room, but sleep had been rather far from his mind those days. Cat naps were basically all he had survived on for a week, and only they came when he was too tired to function. He was sure much more and his body would just give up on him, shut down and not start up again. He contemplated another cup of coffee as he cracked his neck and willed himself to resemble a human again.
Stifling a yawn behind his hand, Mikkel fished around next to the chair for his shoes. He did not always take them off, but he wanted to be comfortable, at least physically. He wanted give himself something that resembled relaxation, and though he did not feel one bit relaxed, it had been good to get his shoes off.
When Mikkel finally willed himself to look at Oliver, look at the form of one of his best friends immobile on a hospital bed as he had been for a little over a week, Mikkel bolted upright with surprise. His shoes were forgotten as he caught sight of large brown eyes watching him with just a hint of humor.
"You look tired," Oliver quipped, voice raspy from disuse and dryness. Mikkel was on his feet without another second wasted, rushing to Oliver who was only a few feet away. His first instinct was to hug the younger Swede, wrap him up tight in his arms and squeeze him. The instinct was primitive, the notion that if one could touch something then it was there, but Mikkel thought better of it. Oliver had to hurt, and pulling him up and hugging him would not have been the best idea for the moment. Instead his hands hovered, entirely unsure of what he should do with them.
"I… I seriously can't believe…" Mikkel started in Swedish, forgot the words, and forced the rest out in English. He had no time to be dwelling on how best to communicate with Oliver because his mind still reeled with the idea that Oliver was actually awake, actually speaking to him. "Say something else. Please, anything!" Oliver chuckled, winced slightly, but forced a smile on his face.
"You smell bad too," He commented, and Mikkel could not even think to be offended by that. Oliver could think he smelled like a dairy farm in the middle of summer so long as he was actually awake.
"Was at the rink," Mikkel commented back, reaching up for the call button. The doctors would want to check on him, would want to test him, and Mikkel had to call Oliver's parents. They were so worried, and Mikkel had to force them out of the hospital every night with the promise that he would sit there with Oliver while they slept. He had had to play that night, though his heart had not been in it, and rushed over as soon as it was done to relieve Oliver's family. They were grateful, and Oliver's mother would hug him every time.
"There are showers at the rink," Oliver reminded him, moving his own hand up to grab Mikkel's wrist before he had a chance to press the call button. Mikkel furrowed his brows, looking at Oliver with an unspoken question as to why Oliver did not want someone alerted to his return to consciousness. "Not yet, please. Don't want to be poked more than already have been." Slowly Mikkel's face softened into a gentle smile, but Oliver did not let go of his wrist. He held on, like he was also checking if he was really awake, staring at where his fingers circled Mikkel's flesh.
"I wanted to hurry back here, make sure you were okay. Didn't want to miss you waking up, Ollie." Oliver smiled again, softer, matching Mikkel's smile, the older man assumed. He realized quickly that he missed it. He missed Oliver smiling but more than that he missed Oliver smiling at him.
"You fell asleep and missed it anyway," Oliver commented, which made Mikkel chuckle lightly. He reached behind himself, hand finding the chair and pulling it closer so he could sit. He did not want to have Oliver stop holding onto him just so he could be comfortable, so he compromised, arm resting next to Oliver's as they both watched each other. It seemed Oliver was just as hesitant to believe Mikkel was there as Mikkel was to believe Oliver was awake, but they both seemed to be coming to terms with the fact that it was real.
"I should call your parents," Mikkel offered, shifting to reach into his pocket to slide out his cell phone. Oliver's grip on his arm tightened for just a fraction of a second, giving Mikkel pause with his phone held loosely in his hand.
"Not yet. I know they're worried about me, but… just not yet, okay? I just want a few minutes." It was Swedish, but Mikkel understood, nodding and smiling softly once more in response. It was Oliver's call, all of it, and unless he passed out again, Mikkel would listen to whatever Oliver wanted. "So, what happened?" The younger man asked, and Mikkel's smile slowly fell. He was unsure if he should answer the question, unsure of the protocol if and when Oliver woke up. He had not asked which seemed to be short sighted on his part, so he weighed the options. There seemed to be no harm in telling Oliver what had happened, and Mikkel was sure, given the same situation, that he would want to know as well.
"We went out and while you were crossing the road you were hit by a drunk driver." Mikkel did not smile, actually frowned a little, as he watched Oliver's features. He did not look too surprised over the news, actually a bit thoughtful as his eyes scanned around the room. Mikkel could not imagine that he was not in a ton of pain, but Oliver hid it well, looking almost nonchalant over the whole ordeal.
"I died, didn't I?" He asked, which surprised Mikkel quite a bit. He frowned and waited several seconds for Oliver's eyes to find him again before he nodded. It had been the scariest moment of Mikkel's life, watching his best friend lay on the ground in a puddle of his own blood and clinging desperately to life. Oliver had looked so scared, blood burbling to his lips as he gasped to draw oxygen into lungs that had collapsed below broken ribs. He had died there right as the paramedics had arrived and Mikkel had been sure that he would never see Oliver awake again. He thought that one freak accident, one asshole running a red light with enough alcohol in his system to put him two times over the legal limit would take Oliver from him, but he had been wrong. Oliver was tougher than that.
"Yeah, for a minute and twenty-six seconds you were dead, Oliver." Mikkel told him slowly, and Oliver's reaction seemed rather strange. He nodded once, just a small head bob, winced from the movement, and sighed. His hand tightened around Mikkel's wrist for just a fraction of a second before it went to just loosely holding on. Mikkel did not speak again for a good minute, but when Oliver's eyes closed again, he was spurred into speech.
"Hey, really don't think you're supposed to go back to sleep until a doctor comes in to check on you." Mikkel really hoped that Oliver had only decided to rest. He could not bear the thought of Oliver falling into unconsciousness again, leaving Mikkel to wonder if he had ever actually woken up at all or if it had all been a dream. Slowly Oliver's lips quirked into a smile again, though his eyes did not open right away.
"Not going to sleep. My eyes just hurt a lot." Oliver commented, smiling still. "Wake up and get to see you first. Wish it was a pretty girl." That got Mikkel chuckling, shifting to remove Oliver's hand from his wrist, lacing their fingers together instead.
"You won’t let me call the pretty nurse in here, so I guess you're just going to have to suffer with only seeing me," He quipped back which made Oliver chuckle and then groan. It hurt like hell to laugh, but at least Oliver could laugh. He could not remember laughing in quite a while.
"I'd say you could put on a wig and maybe pretend to be a pretty girl, but you still stink and you haven't shaved in a while." Mikkel used his free hand to reach up and rub at his face. Oliver's eyes opened a crack to watch him touch over the long neglected beard. He smiled fondly at Mikkel and did not look away when caught doing so. Mikkel slowly smiled back and gave Oliver's hand a light squeeze.
"I'm glad you're okay, Ollie," He said, and it was the truth. His missed Oliver unbelievably and had not realized he could miss anyone as much as he had. Though they usually only spent approximately nine months out of the year with each other, Oliver had become a major part of his life. To have that taken away, Mikkel had rationalized, was literal hell.
"I missed you too, Boeds." Oliver commented back, smiling softly again as he flexed his fingers against Mikkel's hand. "Being dead really sucks." That was in fact very true. As he had woken, Oliver could not remember much of anything. There were large gaping black spots where memories should have been. Or, at least, he thought there should have been memories. As Mikkel had described it, Oliver could only barely remember the accident. He had remembered them winning the game, remember a bunch of them wanting to go out and celebrate. He could remember them parking and then walking. Honestly he could not remember being hit by the car, could not remember holding onto life as he lay in the street bleeding to death, nor could he remember being resuscitated, but that was not all.
"It's like I can't remember things. Like, things happened, important things, but I can't remember them." Oliver looked slightly distressed over that, anxious and just a tad panicked, but it never did surface more than that. He held it in, fought it down, and slowly turned his gaze up to look at Mikkel. The older man looked confused over Oliver's admission, as if looking for some way to comment on something he did not understand. He wanted Oliver not to worry, but had no real way to put the worries to rest.
"You were on a lot of drugs, Oliver: A lot of stuff to keep you comfortable, to keep you alive. I'm sure… I'm sure that would make you not remember stuff." Mikkel shifted slightly, his free hand looping over Oliver to pet his fingers through the younger man's hair. It was grimy, oily, and in desperate need of a good wash, but that did not deter Mikkel from the gesture. He wanted Oliver to know that he would be there for him through everything, even memory loss.
"No, not the drugs," Oliver said slowly, voice weak. The drugs had not made him forget, they had made him not feel. The memory loss was something else, something bigger, something black and all consuming. Oliver thought about that for a fraction of a second before his eyes shot open wide and his hands moved. The drugs, he thought, that made the black come. He pulled at the IV tubes, disconnecting them, roughly. Mikkel had jerked back, shocked over Oliver's sudden movement. The younger man fought to sit up, seemed to fight to get away, but Mikkel grabbed him and hit the call button without hesitation. Something in those fleeting seconds had happened to Oliver, had made him want to get away from the room, and Mikkel, though surprised, knew that would not have been good.
No army came into the room, just the nurse that had been watching over Oliver for practically the entire time he had been there. She was nice, pretty, and had done everything in her power to make both Oliver and his constant guests comfortable. One day Mikkel had jokingly asked her when she slept since she seemed to always be around. Though she had answered him with humor, Mikkel still thought that she never actually did sleep.
"He's up. We were… we were talking and then, suddenly, he started…" The woman did not wait for Mikkel to finish explaining, gently stepping in to take his place in the restraining of Oliver. The younger man was strong, though, and Mikkel could not imagine that the petite nurse would be able to hold him down alone. Mikkel rationalized he would need to go get more help. He would need to alert someone that Oliver was awake and freaking out, and that one nurse would not be enough to restrain him.
"Oliver," She spoke slowly, using her weight to keep Oliver in bed, though not fighting him to get the tubes back in yet. "Oliver, there is no Opal. There is nothing in these drugs but some pain medication, some antibiotics, and some nutrients. Oliver, do you understand me?" Oliver did, and though Mikkel did not understand her motives in talking to Oliver like that, he did understand the results. Oliver calmed, though not immediately, and shifted, staring at the woman. Mikkel would have thought that her simple beauty had surprised Oliver, much as it had Mikkel, but he did not look at her with reverence, staring instead with awe.
"M-Maria?" Oliver asked hesitantly, eyes wide and shifting to take in all of her features. Slowly the nurse smiled, her lips quirked just slightly as her features softened. She shifted back, letting Oliver eased down onto the bed once more. Mikkel hovered just to the side, attention darting between the two. Yes, the young woman's name was Maria, but there was no way Oliver could have known that. As far as he could tell they had never met while Oliver was conscious.
"I… I remember you," He told her, and though she smiled, she did not respond. Her attention went to reattaching the IV tubes that Oliver had disconnected, leaving Oliver to just watch her, and Mikkel to slowly collapse back into the chair with a heavy sigh. He was tired, rung out, and Oliver's sudden explosion had drained the last of his reserves. At least, with him awake again, Mikkel would be able to go home and get some sleep.
"She's been your nurse, Ollie," He told the younger man gently, watching Oliver's attention dart to him before back to the nurse.
"Yeah, no, I remember her from… from the other place!" He said with a mixture of excitement and mortification in his tone. He thought he had remembered, just a glimmer, but it seemed like they thought it was nothing. Like something he need not worry about. Oliver, however, knew it was something monumental that he needed to remember. It was something fleeting and dark which he just could not grasp, though he tried to desperately.
"Ollie," Mikkel started slowly, not so much a warning in his tone, but more of a gentle reminder. He had been seriously hurt and things were probably very confusing to him right then. There was no reason to take that out on anyone, let alone those just trying to help him.
"No, Mikkel!" Oliver started, voice both excited and frustrated. "Why would she tell me there was no Opal in it if she didn't know? Why would you say no Opal?" Oliver's attention went from Mikkel to Maria as he spoke, languages shifting as well. She knew about the Opal, Oliver knew about her. There had to be a connection, something in the lost memories that Oliver could use to figure out the rest. Instead of responding, Maria just looked up at him, smiled softly, and took the clipboard at the end of Oliver's bed. She began to mark things down instead of responding. Oliver frowned heavily and prepared to shout the question at her again when Mikkel caught his arm, squeezing once hard.
"Ollie, stop it. C'mon now, it's not like that. Maria's your nurse and there was no other place. It's just been here, Ollie. You just dreamt about her because she was around, alright? So just calm down a bit and relax." Mikkel made a very convincing argument, but Oliver's eyes pleaded with him. There was something that the younger man was desperate to remember, something that he knew he needed to remember, and Maria seemed to not want to be of any help. Oliver swallowed heavily, eyes shifting from Mikkel's face and back toward Maria's. He wanted one of them to believe him, wanted someone to tell him why he remembered bits and pieces from when he should have been unconscious. He wanted answers, but seemed to get none.
"When did she become my nurse?" Oliver asked slowly, eyes now directly on Maria, not letting her out of his sight. Mikkel at first seemed hesitant to tell him, though he did not know why. It was a simple question, one that should not have been worth anything. He just wanted to know when Maria had begun to take care of him.
"The second full day you were here, Ollie. The first night and the first day you had some other nurses, but then you had her and she's been here ever since."
"So, the fifteenth then?" Oliver asked cautiously, getting a confused look from Mikkel. There was nothing said between them for an expanse of time that felt like it would stretch until it broke. In a sense it did because as soon as Oliver got sick of waiting, he asked again. "Was it the fifteenth, Boeds? The fifteenth of November! Just tell me!"
"Yeah, Ollie, it was! Why… why would that matter?"
"Because she died on the fifteenth, Boeds! Because you died there on the fifteenth!" Again Oliver's attention went from Mikkel to Maria, staring at her hard until, finally, the young woman dropped her attention from the notes she was writing to look back at Oliver. Her gaze was steady, a tiny bit cold, but Oliver held it without hesitation. They practically glared at each other for almost a minute before Maria finally smiled, one that happened slowly and blossomed across her face.
"You died there, Maria, and now you're here. You died protecting me, and then he…" Oliver paused, glancing at Mikkel for just a moment. "You sent Chief for me. You sent him to get me away from them, and he did. He did Maria, twice. He saved me, and you knew he would, didn't you?" The clipboard was discarded quickly, tossed onto the movable table that sat with a small pitcher of water on it, before Maria sat easily on Oliver's bed. She collected his hands and held them gently in her own, smiling the whole time.
"I'm so sorry, Oliver, that I had to do that. We're not allowed to give you the answers, having to make sure you remember. We're under strict orders not to intervene with the newly selected because you're all still fragile." Oliver's brows crossed heavily, frowning deeply as he searched Maria's face.
"You're… you're not one like me, are you?" He asked, and Maria nodded. She was not a savior like Oliver was, not any more anyway.
"More like your guardian angel, Oliver." She told him, and Mikkel was completely at a loss next to them.
"His what?" He asked, but he could not get any more questions out because Oliver had let go of Maria's hands, turned, and pulled the older man into a tight hug. He winced and whimpered slightly with the pain the action had caused him, but he wanted nothing else then to hug Mikkel at that moment. There was so much he would have to tell him, about everything he had seen and experienced in the other world, but none of it came to his lips. There would be time to tell him later, Oliver knew, but there was one thing that he really needed to tell him at that moment.
"They let me come back because all I wanted to do, Boeds, was see you again. There was another you where I went, but he was so different. He was not like you at all, and I really, really just wanted to see you again." Mikkel had no idea how to take that. Oliver had just woken up from a coma, had seemed confused and scared, and Mikkel was sure that was natural. Then suddenly, with only a small confirmation from Maria, Oliver turned it around to tell him that while he was supposed to be unconscious he was apparently somewhere else.
"Oliver, I don't…" Mikkel started, but Oliver shook his head, hair tickling under Mikkel's chin. He did not need to finish that train of thought because Oliver understood, apparently all too well.
"There's a whole lot I have to tell you!" He began, but he had nothing to follow it up with. There was so much, so many layers of it, but he could not pinpoint exactly where to start. There was always the option of starting at the beginning, on the street, but Oliver had learned so many things since. He had learned all about Molious and the Government, about the soldiers and the Berserkers, all of which seemed to be just as important. The Presence had told him that he was to save the world and, just like the story, Oliver had no clue where to start.
"I need to… I need to show you the stars, Mikkel," Oliver said suddenly after moments of silence that no one seemed to want to intrude on. The older man looked at Oliver in confusion as he pulled himself from Mikkel's neck and looked up at him.
"The stars?" Mikkel asked, understanding the Swedish word, but not the meaning behind it. There seemed to have been no significance to the stars in anything that Oliver had rambled about, no connection to the history Oliver had apparently had while unconscious in the hospital, but there had to have been something.
"I made a promise, Boeds, to the other you, that I'd make sure that you see the stars. That's when I'm going to explain everything, okay?" Mikkel nodded complacently. He did not believe it, not really, but he would give Oliver the chance to tell him about it. Mikkel owed him that much anyway.
"Alright, Ollie. When you show me the stars, you can tell me about what happened." The younger man beamed a smile up at him, having detangled himself and returned to the bed. Mikkel slowly smiled back, still a bit of worry on his features, and it fell entirely as he looked to Maria.
"You should probably go and call his family, Mr. Boedker. I'm sure they'll love to see him." Nodding, Mikkel stood. He took Oliver's hand once more, squeezing it, before he turned to leave the room. As he did so he caught Maria's arm, giving her a light tug, a silent request for her to step out with him. With a gentle smile at Oliver, the young woman did so, closing the door to Oliver's room softly behind her.
"What's wrong with him?" Mikkel asked Maria, worry in his voice. Oliver had not gone anywhere, which Mikkel knew for certain. Every moment that Oliver was in the hospital there had been someone with him, leaving no time for this apparent grand adventure he had gone on. Maria slowly touched Mikkel's shoulder, smiling up at him with equal softness.
"Go ahead and walk out to the front of the hospital, Mr. Boedker. Call his family and let him know he's awake. There you will get your answer." It was cryptic, confusing, but Mikkel could only nod. He had pulled his phone from his pocket, holding it tightly as he turned and began to walk out of the hospital.
Maria watched him go, letting Mikkel round the corner toward the elevators before she turned and reentered Oliver's room. The younger man was fighting with the bed, attempting to get the back to rise up so he could sit instead of lay. Moving quickly, Maria helped, working in almost silence until Oliver was comfortable. He was the first to resurrect the topic she had walked away from.
"Where’s Mikkel?" Oliver asked.
"I sent him out to get the proof he needs," Maria responded, getting a slightly annoyed sound from Oliver in return. She looked at him, assuring that he was not mad at her. He actually was mad at himself, mad about the mix up in his meanings.
"I meant Chief. When… when I died there he said he'd be with me. I didn't know what he meant." Oliver paused again, considered, and then continued. "I guess I still don't know what he meant." Maria smiled again, but did not answer right away. Instead she moved about the room, walking to the window where she drew the shades open, letting in the faint glow of early morning light. The sun had not yet risen, still below the horizon, but it turned the sky a cerulean blue.
"Well then, Oliver, I guess that's going to be your first mission here, isn't it?" The woman responded, tone slightly playful. It was far from the answer that Oliver wanted, but he knew that pressing her for more would not get him what he needed. He would need to find the other Mikkel himself, and though it would be tough, Oliver knew that he would somehow do it. The Presence had believed him capable of saving the world, so Oliver knew he would have to believe himself capable of finding the other Mikkel.
Oliver lolled his head toward the window, watching the sun turn the sky slowly. He had not lived through the night in the other world, but he had been brought back in his own to watch the sunrise. He had thought the Presence evil, destructive beings, but they had proven to also be forgiving, benevolent, and, most of all, honest. They had told Oliver he would see the sun rise, and he had.
Minutes seemed to drag on for eternity as Oliver watched the sky and waited for his friend and family to return to him. Slowly, however, Oliver began to sense something was wrong. He watched the sky and it took a little while before he saw it. There were no clouds in the sky, but from the light pollution of the city slowly emerged the Presence, the long flowing hand that he had seen on the street and then again during his dying night. The aqua translucence descended slowly, reaching both for the ground and to eternity, and then Oliver heard it.
Back then, in the other world, Oliver had never heard the Presence. He had sensed them, felt them, but he had never heard them speak words to him, all the languages of the world coming upon him at once in a monotone that still felt like more. Oliver breathed heavily but never became lightheaded as he took in the words and made them a part of him. He had a mission and he would have to work hard to accomplish it, but there was time. There was plenty of time.
As the voices left him and the grip of panic washed from his system, Oliver looked to Maria. She appeared entirely unfazed, calmly watching Oliver for any sign of physical distress. When their eyes met she smiled softly, letting Oliver make the first move.
"What did they mean?" He asked her slowly, and the smile never left her face.
"You'll know," Was her only response, and Oliver knew he could not press the subject. She was there only to protect him, not to help him accomplish what the Presence needed of him. He would need to make his own choices, and pray that they were the correct ones.
The door flew open and Mikkel ran into the room, approaching Maria quickly.
"What was that?" He demanded of her, getting nothing but that enigmatic and soft smile in return. She would not tell him, but Oliver would.
"Tomorrow, Boeds, I'll explain it all," Oliver told him, and though unhappy with that response, Mikkel made his way back to his chair, sitting heavily before taking Oliver's hand once more. Curling in on himself, Mikkel laid his head on Oliver's hand and spoke quietly.
"Alright. Alright, Ollie. After that, I think I'm going to believe just about anything you're going to tell me." Shifting, Oliver gently pet through Mikkel's hair, returning the soft affection he had gotten earlier from the older man. There was a lot he would need to explain, a lot he would need to figure out, but there was proof. Mikkel would believe him, and Oliver knew more than anything that that was exactly what he would need in order to help the Presence save their world. So long as Mikkel believed him, everything would work out just fine.
Thanks for reading!
Playlist by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://8tracks.com/masterpenguin/liberty-of-possession
Chapter 17 Song by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-cB7_Wonxso
Master Post: http://z4rf3.livejournal.com/16531.html
Epilogue
Chapter 17 Song by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-cB7_Wonxso
Warnings: Mentions of: Drug Use
Mikkel woke to a stiff neck and a hurting back. Hospitals were notoriously terrible places to sleep and he had not slept much anywhere else over the past week. Two nights he had been in a hotel room, but sleep had been rather far from his mind those days. Cat naps were basically all he had survived on for a week, and only they came when he was too tired to function. He was sure much more and his body would just give up on him, shut down and not start up again. He contemplated another cup of coffee as he cracked his neck and willed himself to resemble a human again.
Stifling a yawn behind his hand, Mikkel fished around next to the chair for his shoes. He did not always take them off, but he wanted to be comfortable, at least physically. He wanted give himself something that resembled relaxation, and though he did not feel one bit relaxed, it had been good to get his shoes off.
When Mikkel finally willed himself to look at Oliver, look at the form of one of his best friends immobile on a hospital bed as he had been for a little over a week, Mikkel bolted upright with surprise. His shoes were forgotten as he caught sight of large brown eyes watching him with just a hint of humor.
"You look tired," Oliver quipped, voice raspy from disuse and dryness. Mikkel was on his feet without another second wasted, rushing to Oliver who was only a few feet away. His first instinct was to hug the younger Swede, wrap him up tight in his arms and squeeze him. The instinct was primitive, the notion that if one could touch something then it was there, but Mikkel thought better of it. Oliver had to hurt, and pulling him up and hugging him would not have been the best idea for the moment. Instead his hands hovered, entirely unsure of what he should do with them.
"I… I seriously can't believe…" Mikkel started in Swedish, forgot the words, and forced the rest out in English. He had no time to be dwelling on how best to communicate with Oliver because his mind still reeled with the idea that Oliver was actually awake, actually speaking to him. "Say something else. Please, anything!" Oliver chuckled, winced slightly, but forced a smile on his face.
"You smell bad too," He commented, and Mikkel could not even think to be offended by that. Oliver could think he smelled like a dairy farm in the middle of summer so long as he was actually awake.
"Was at the rink," Mikkel commented back, reaching up for the call button. The doctors would want to check on him, would want to test him, and Mikkel had to call Oliver's parents. They were so worried, and Mikkel had to force them out of the hospital every night with the promise that he would sit there with Oliver while they slept. He had had to play that night, though his heart had not been in it, and rushed over as soon as it was done to relieve Oliver's family. They were grateful, and Oliver's mother would hug him every time.
"There are showers at the rink," Oliver reminded him, moving his own hand up to grab Mikkel's wrist before he had a chance to press the call button. Mikkel furrowed his brows, looking at Oliver with an unspoken question as to why Oliver did not want someone alerted to his return to consciousness. "Not yet, please. Don't want to be poked more than already have been." Slowly Mikkel's face softened into a gentle smile, but Oliver did not let go of his wrist. He held on, like he was also checking if he was really awake, staring at where his fingers circled Mikkel's flesh.
"I wanted to hurry back here, make sure you were okay. Didn't want to miss you waking up, Ollie." Oliver smiled again, softer, matching Mikkel's smile, the older man assumed. He realized quickly that he missed it. He missed Oliver smiling but more than that he missed Oliver smiling at him.
"You fell asleep and missed it anyway," Oliver commented, which made Mikkel chuckle lightly. He reached behind himself, hand finding the chair and pulling it closer so he could sit. He did not want to have Oliver stop holding onto him just so he could be comfortable, so he compromised, arm resting next to Oliver's as they both watched each other. It seemed Oliver was just as hesitant to believe Mikkel was there as Mikkel was to believe Oliver was awake, but they both seemed to be coming to terms with the fact that it was real.
"I should call your parents," Mikkel offered, shifting to reach into his pocket to slide out his cell phone. Oliver's grip on his arm tightened for just a fraction of a second, giving Mikkel pause with his phone held loosely in his hand.
"Not yet. I know they're worried about me, but… just not yet, okay? I just want a few minutes." It was Swedish, but Mikkel understood, nodding and smiling softly once more in response. It was Oliver's call, all of it, and unless he passed out again, Mikkel would listen to whatever Oliver wanted. "So, what happened?" The younger man asked, and Mikkel's smile slowly fell. He was unsure if he should answer the question, unsure of the protocol if and when Oliver woke up. He had not asked which seemed to be short sighted on his part, so he weighed the options. There seemed to be no harm in telling Oliver what had happened, and Mikkel was sure, given the same situation, that he would want to know as well.
"We went out and while you were crossing the road you were hit by a drunk driver." Mikkel did not smile, actually frowned a little, as he watched Oliver's features. He did not look too surprised over the news, actually a bit thoughtful as his eyes scanned around the room. Mikkel could not imagine that he was not in a ton of pain, but Oliver hid it well, looking almost nonchalant over the whole ordeal.
"I died, didn't I?" He asked, which surprised Mikkel quite a bit. He frowned and waited several seconds for Oliver's eyes to find him again before he nodded. It had been the scariest moment of Mikkel's life, watching his best friend lay on the ground in a puddle of his own blood and clinging desperately to life. Oliver had looked so scared, blood burbling to his lips as he gasped to draw oxygen into lungs that had collapsed below broken ribs. He had died there right as the paramedics had arrived and Mikkel had been sure that he would never see Oliver awake again. He thought that one freak accident, one asshole running a red light with enough alcohol in his system to put him two times over the legal limit would take Oliver from him, but he had been wrong. Oliver was tougher than that.
"Yeah, for a minute and twenty-six seconds you were dead, Oliver." Mikkel told him slowly, and Oliver's reaction seemed rather strange. He nodded once, just a small head bob, winced from the movement, and sighed. His hand tightened around Mikkel's wrist for just a fraction of a second before it went to just loosely holding on. Mikkel did not speak again for a good minute, but when Oliver's eyes closed again, he was spurred into speech.
"Hey, really don't think you're supposed to go back to sleep until a doctor comes in to check on you." Mikkel really hoped that Oliver had only decided to rest. He could not bear the thought of Oliver falling into unconsciousness again, leaving Mikkel to wonder if he had ever actually woken up at all or if it had all been a dream. Slowly Oliver's lips quirked into a smile again, though his eyes did not open right away.
"Not going to sleep. My eyes just hurt a lot." Oliver commented, smiling still. "Wake up and get to see you first. Wish it was a pretty girl." That got Mikkel chuckling, shifting to remove Oliver's hand from his wrist, lacing their fingers together instead.
"You won’t let me call the pretty nurse in here, so I guess you're just going to have to suffer with only seeing me," He quipped back which made Oliver chuckle and then groan. It hurt like hell to laugh, but at least Oliver could laugh. He could not remember laughing in quite a while.
"I'd say you could put on a wig and maybe pretend to be a pretty girl, but you still stink and you haven't shaved in a while." Mikkel used his free hand to reach up and rub at his face. Oliver's eyes opened a crack to watch him touch over the long neglected beard. He smiled fondly at Mikkel and did not look away when caught doing so. Mikkel slowly smiled back and gave Oliver's hand a light squeeze.
"I'm glad you're okay, Ollie," He said, and it was the truth. His missed Oliver unbelievably and had not realized he could miss anyone as much as he had. Though they usually only spent approximately nine months out of the year with each other, Oliver had become a major part of his life. To have that taken away, Mikkel had rationalized, was literal hell.
"I missed you too, Boeds." Oliver commented back, smiling softly again as he flexed his fingers against Mikkel's hand. "Being dead really sucks." That was in fact very true. As he had woken, Oliver could not remember much of anything. There were large gaping black spots where memories should have been. Or, at least, he thought there should have been memories. As Mikkel had described it, Oliver could only barely remember the accident. He had remembered them winning the game, remember a bunch of them wanting to go out and celebrate. He could remember them parking and then walking. Honestly he could not remember being hit by the car, could not remember holding onto life as he lay in the street bleeding to death, nor could he remember being resuscitated, but that was not all.
"It's like I can't remember things. Like, things happened, important things, but I can't remember them." Oliver looked slightly distressed over that, anxious and just a tad panicked, but it never did surface more than that. He held it in, fought it down, and slowly turned his gaze up to look at Mikkel. The older man looked confused over Oliver's admission, as if looking for some way to comment on something he did not understand. He wanted Oliver not to worry, but had no real way to put the worries to rest.
"You were on a lot of drugs, Oliver: A lot of stuff to keep you comfortable, to keep you alive. I'm sure… I'm sure that would make you not remember stuff." Mikkel shifted slightly, his free hand looping over Oliver to pet his fingers through the younger man's hair. It was grimy, oily, and in desperate need of a good wash, but that did not deter Mikkel from the gesture. He wanted Oliver to know that he would be there for him through everything, even memory loss.
"No, not the drugs," Oliver said slowly, voice weak. The drugs had not made him forget, they had made him not feel. The memory loss was something else, something bigger, something black and all consuming. Oliver thought about that for a fraction of a second before his eyes shot open wide and his hands moved. The drugs, he thought, that made the black come. He pulled at the IV tubes, disconnecting them, roughly. Mikkel had jerked back, shocked over Oliver's sudden movement. The younger man fought to sit up, seemed to fight to get away, but Mikkel grabbed him and hit the call button without hesitation. Something in those fleeting seconds had happened to Oliver, had made him want to get away from the room, and Mikkel, though surprised, knew that would not have been good.
No army came into the room, just the nurse that had been watching over Oliver for practically the entire time he had been there. She was nice, pretty, and had done everything in her power to make both Oliver and his constant guests comfortable. One day Mikkel had jokingly asked her when she slept since she seemed to always be around. Though she had answered him with humor, Mikkel still thought that she never actually did sleep.
"He's up. We were… we were talking and then, suddenly, he started…" The woman did not wait for Mikkel to finish explaining, gently stepping in to take his place in the restraining of Oliver. The younger man was strong, though, and Mikkel could not imagine that the petite nurse would be able to hold him down alone. Mikkel rationalized he would need to go get more help. He would need to alert someone that Oliver was awake and freaking out, and that one nurse would not be enough to restrain him.
"Oliver," She spoke slowly, using her weight to keep Oliver in bed, though not fighting him to get the tubes back in yet. "Oliver, there is no Opal. There is nothing in these drugs but some pain medication, some antibiotics, and some nutrients. Oliver, do you understand me?" Oliver did, and though Mikkel did not understand her motives in talking to Oliver like that, he did understand the results. Oliver calmed, though not immediately, and shifted, staring at the woman. Mikkel would have thought that her simple beauty had surprised Oliver, much as it had Mikkel, but he did not look at her with reverence, staring instead with awe.
"M-Maria?" Oliver asked hesitantly, eyes wide and shifting to take in all of her features. Slowly the nurse smiled, her lips quirked just slightly as her features softened. She shifted back, letting Oliver eased down onto the bed once more. Mikkel hovered just to the side, attention darting between the two. Yes, the young woman's name was Maria, but there was no way Oliver could have known that. As far as he could tell they had never met while Oliver was conscious.
"I… I remember you," He told her, and though she smiled, she did not respond. Her attention went to reattaching the IV tubes that Oliver had disconnected, leaving Oliver to just watch her, and Mikkel to slowly collapse back into the chair with a heavy sigh. He was tired, rung out, and Oliver's sudden explosion had drained the last of his reserves. At least, with him awake again, Mikkel would be able to go home and get some sleep.
"She's been your nurse, Ollie," He told the younger man gently, watching Oliver's attention dart to him before back to the nurse.
"Yeah, no, I remember her from… from the other place!" He said with a mixture of excitement and mortification in his tone. He thought he had remembered, just a glimmer, but it seemed like they thought it was nothing. Like something he need not worry about. Oliver, however, knew it was something monumental that he needed to remember. It was something fleeting and dark which he just could not grasp, though he tried to desperately.
"Ollie," Mikkel started slowly, not so much a warning in his tone, but more of a gentle reminder. He had been seriously hurt and things were probably very confusing to him right then. There was no reason to take that out on anyone, let alone those just trying to help him.
"No, Mikkel!" Oliver started, voice both excited and frustrated. "Why would she tell me there was no Opal in it if she didn't know? Why would you say no Opal?" Oliver's attention went from Mikkel to Maria as he spoke, languages shifting as well. She knew about the Opal, Oliver knew about her. There had to be a connection, something in the lost memories that Oliver could use to figure out the rest. Instead of responding, Maria just looked up at him, smiled softly, and took the clipboard at the end of Oliver's bed. She began to mark things down instead of responding. Oliver frowned heavily and prepared to shout the question at her again when Mikkel caught his arm, squeezing once hard.
"Ollie, stop it. C'mon now, it's not like that. Maria's your nurse and there was no other place. It's just been here, Ollie. You just dreamt about her because she was around, alright? So just calm down a bit and relax." Mikkel made a very convincing argument, but Oliver's eyes pleaded with him. There was something that the younger man was desperate to remember, something that he knew he needed to remember, and Maria seemed to not want to be of any help. Oliver swallowed heavily, eyes shifting from Mikkel's face and back toward Maria's. He wanted one of them to believe him, wanted someone to tell him why he remembered bits and pieces from when he should have been unconscious. He wanted answers, but seemed to get none.
"When did she become my nurse?" Oliver asked slowly, eyes now directly on Maria, not letting her out of his sight. Mikkel at first seemed hesitant to tell him, though he did not know why. It was a simple question, one that should not have been worth anything. He just wanted to know when Maria had begun to take care of him.
"The second full day you were here, Ollie. The first night and the first day you had some other nurses, but then you had her and she's been here ever since."
"So, the fifteenth then?" Oliver asked cautiously, getting a confused look from Mikkel. There was nothing said between them for an expanse of time that felt like it would stretch until it broke. In a sense it did because as soon as Oliver got sick of waiting, he asked again. "Was it the fifteenth, Boeds? The fifteenth of November! Just tell me!"
"Yeah, Ollie, it was! Why… why would that matter?"
"Because she died on the fifteenth, Boeds! Because you died there on the fifteenth!" Again Oliver's attention went from Mikkel to Maria, staring at her hard until, finally, the young woman dropped her attention from the notes she was writing to look back at Oliver. Her gaze was steady, a tiny bit cold, but Oliver held it without hesitation. They practically glared at each other for almost a minute before Maria finally smiled, one that happened slowly and blossomed across her face.
"You died there, Maria, and now you're here. You died protecting me, and then he…" Oliver paused, glancing at Mikkel for just a moment. "You sent Chief for me. You sent him to get me away from them, and he did. He did Maria, twice. He saved me, and you knew he would, didn't you?" The clipboard was discarded quickly, tossed onto the movable table that sat with a small pitcher of water on it, before Maria sat easily on Oliver's bed. She collected his hands and held them gently in her own, smiling the whole time.
"I'm so sorry, Oliver, that I had to do that. We're not allowed to give you the answers, having to make sure you remember. We're under strict orders not to intervene with the newly selected because you're all still fragile." Oliver's brows crossed heavily, frowning deeply as he searched Maria's face.
"You're… you're not one like me, are you?" He asked, and Maria nodded. She was not a savior like Oliver was, not any more anyway.
"More like your guardian angel, Oliver." She told him, and Mikkel was completely at a loss next to them.
"His what?" He asked, but he could not get any more questions out because Oliver had let go of Maria's hands, turned, and pulled the older man into a tight hug. He winced and whimpered slightly with the pain the action had caused him, but he wanted nothing else then to hug Mikkel at that moment. There was so much he would have to tell him, about everything he had seen and experienced in the other world, but none of it came to his lips. There would be time to tell him later, Oliver knew, but there was one thing that he really needed to tell him at that moment.
"They let me come back because all I wanted to do, Boeds, was see you again. There was another you where I went, but he was so different. He was not like you at all, and I really, really just wanted to see you again." Mikkel had no idea how to take that. Oliver had just woken up from a coma, had seemed confused and scared, and Mikkel was sure that was natural. Then suddenly, with only a small confirmation from Maria, Oliver turned it around to tell him that while he was supposed to be unconscious he was apparently somewhere else.
"Oliver, I don't…" Mikkel started, but Oliver shook his head, hair tickling under Mikkel's chin. He did not need to finish that train of thought because Oliver understood, apparently all too well.
"There's a whole lot I have to tell you!" He began, but he had nothing to follow it up with. There was so much, so many layers of it, but he could not pinpoint exactly where to start. There was always the option of starting at the beginning, on the street, but Oliver had learned so many things since. He had learned all about Molious and the Government, about the soldiers and the Berserkers, all of which seemed to be just as important. The Presence had told him that he was to save the world and, just like the story, Oliver had no clue where to start.
"I need to… I need to show you the stars, Mikkel," Oliver said suddenly after moments of silence that no one seemed to want to intrude on. The older man looked at Oliver in confusion as he pulled himself from Mikkel's neck and looked up at him.
"The stars?" Mikkel asked, understanding the Swedish word, but not the meaning behind it. There seemed to have been no significance to the stars in anything that Oliver had rambled about, no connection to the history Oliver had apparently had while unconscious in the hospital, but there had to have been something.
"I made a promise, Boeds, to the other you, that I'd make sure that you see the stars. That's when I'm going to explain everything, okay?" Mikkel nodded complacently. He did not believe it, not really, but he would give Oliver the chance to tell him about it. Mikkel owed him that much anyway.
"Alright, Ollie. When you show me the stars, you can tell me about what happened." The younger man beamed a smile up at him, having detangled himself and returned to the bed. Mikkel slowly smiled back, still a bit of worry on his features, and it fell entirely as he looked to Maria.
"You should probably go and call his family, Mr. Boedker. I'm sure they'll love to see him." Nodding, Mikkel stood. He took Oliver's hand once more, squeezing it, before he turned to leave the room. As he did so he caught Maria's arm, giving her a light tug, a silent request for her to step out with him. With a gentle smile at Oliver, the young woman did so, closing the door to Oliver's room softly behind her.
"What's wrong with him?" Mikkel asked Maria, worry in his voice. Oliver had not gone anywhere, which Mikkel knew for certain. Every moment that Oliver was in the hospital there had been someone with him, leaving no time for this apparent grand adventure he had gone on. Maria slowly touched Mikkel's shoulder, smiling up at him with equal softness.
"Go ahead and walk out to the front of the hospital, Mr. Boedker. Call his family and let him know he's awake. There you will get your answer." It was cryptic, confusing, but Mikkel could only nod. He had pulled his phone from his pocket, holding it tightly as he turned and began to walk out of the hospital.
Maria watched him go, letting Mikkel round the corner toward the elevators before she turned and reentered Oliver's room. The younger man was fighting with the bed, attempting to get the back to rise up so he could sit instead of lay. Moving quickly, Maria helped, working in almost silence until Oliver was comfortable. He was the first to resurrect the topic she had walked away from.
"Where’s Mikkel?" Oliver asked.
"I sent him out to get the proof he needs," Maria responded, getting a slightly annoyed sound from Oliver in return. She looked at him, assuring that he was not mad at her. He actually was mad at himself, mad about the mix up in his meanings.
"I meant Chief. When… when I died there he said he'd be with me. I didn't know what he meant." Oliver paused again, considered, and then continued. "I guess I still don't know what he meant." Maria smiled again, but did not answer right away. Instead she moved about the room, walking to the window where she drew the shades open, letting in the faint glow of early morning light. The sun had not yet risen, still below the horizon, but it turned the sky a cerulean blue.
"Well then, Oliver, I guess that's going to be your first mission here, isn't it?" The woman responded, tone slightly playful. It was far from the answer that Oliver wanted, but he knew that pressing her for more would not get him what he needed. He would need to find the other Mikkel himself, and though it would be tough, Oliver knew that he would somehow do it. The Presence had believed him capable of saving the world, so Oliver knew he would have to believe himself capable of finding the other Mikkel.
Oliver lolled his head toward the window, watching the sun turn the sky slowly. He had not lived through the night in the other world, but he had been brought back in his own to watch the sunrise. He had thought the Presence evil, destructive beings, but they had proven to also be forgiving, benevolent, and, most of all, honest. They had told Oliver he would see the sun rise, and he had.
Minutes seemed to drag on for eternity as Oliver watched the sky and waited for his friend and family to return to him. Slowly, however, Oliver began to sense something was wrong. He watched the sky and it took a little while before he saw it. There were no clouds in the sky, but from the light pollution of the city slowly emerged the Presence, the long flowing hand that he had seen on the street and then again during his dying night. The aqua translucence descended slowly, reaching both for the ground and to eternity, and then Oliver heard it.
Back then, in the other world, Oliver had never heard the Presence. He had sensed them, felt them, but he had never heard them speak words to him, all the languages of the world coming upon him at once in a monotone that still felt like more. Oliver breathed heavily but never became lightheaded as he took in the words and made them a part of him. He had a mission and he would have to work hard to accomplish it, but there was time. There was plenty of time.
As the voices left him and the grip of panic washed from his system, Oliver looked to Maria. She appeared entirely unfazed, calmly watching Oliver for any sign of physical distress. When their eyes met she smiled softly, letting Oliver make the first move.
"What did they mean?" He asked her slowly, and the smile never left her face.
"You'll know," Was her only response, and Oliver knew he could not press the subject. She was there only to protect him, not to help him accomplish what the Presence needed of him. He would need to make his own choices, and pray that they were the correct ones.
The door flew open and Mikkel ran into the room, approaching Maria quickly.
"What was that?" He demanded of her, getting nothing but that enigmatic and soft smile in return. She would not tell him, but Oliver would.
"Tomorrow, Boeds, I'll explain it all," Oliver told him, and though unhappy with that response, Mikkel made his way back to his chair, sitting heavily before taking Oliver's hand once more. Curling in on himself, Mikkel laid his head on Oliver's hand and spoke quietly.
"Alright. Alright, Ollie. After that, I think I'm going to believe just about anything you're going to tell me." Shifting, Oliver gently pet through Mikkel's hair, returning the soft affection he had gotten earlier from the older man. There was a lot he would need to explain, a lot he would need to figure out, but there was proof. Mikkel would believe him, and Oliver knew more than anything that that was exactly what he would need in order to help the Presence save their world. So long as Mikkel believed him, everything would work out just fine.
Thanks for reading!
Playlist by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://8tracks.com/masterpenguin/liberty-of-possession
Chapter 17 Song by the Amazing MasterPenguin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-cB7_Wonxso
Master Post: http://z4rf3.livejournal.com/16531.html