Chapter 26
AN: Thanks to my “medical consultant” Carrie for her advice. ;)
Claire
awoke to the sound of someone saying her name.
“Claire… Claire?” A masculine
voice, soft and gentle… a finger on her cheek, equally soft and gentle… now a
poke in the shoulder, not so soft and gentle.
Then the voice again. “Claire?”
Her eyes
flew open, and her head turned in the direction of the voice. There she found Nick, lying on his side,
facing her, his mouthed curved into a sexy little smile as he watched her. She didn’t remember falling asleep in his bed,
but she found that she enjoyed waking up there, even if she did have a slight
headache. Seeing him first thing,
bare-chested and tousle-headed, the sheet pulled up just to his waist, somehow
made up for the hangover.
“Morning,”
she whispered, her voice cracking.
“Morning,”
he said back, his voice a low rumble.
“How ya feelin’?”
“Little
hungover,” she smiled, “but otherwise okay.
Was I pretty drunk last night?”
She supposed the alcohol had eventually caught up to her; she remembered
punching Jamie’s friend in the bar and riding in the car with Laureen… but
beyond that… eh. It was sort of a blur.
“Just a
little,” he replied with a wink. He must
have just woken up too; there was still sleep in the corners of his blue eyes,
and his cheeks looked flushed and rosy.
“Do you still feel up to taking me back to the hospital today?”
Oh yeah, it
was Thursday, wasn’t it? She had the day
off – good thing, because she was pretty sure she would have been late to work
otherwise – and she had promised to bring him back to the ER for his follow-up
appointment that morning.
She
nodded. “Mm, yeah… what time do you
wanna go?”
“Whenever
you’re ready. I’d rather get it over
with early,” he replied.
“Understandable. Okay, that sounds good. Just gotta… get… up…” She struggled to a sitting position, her head
pounding as soon as it left the pillow.
Ugh. “You got any Advil or Aleve
or something around here?”
He
smirked. “Sure. You sit tight; I’ll bring you some.” Sitting up himself, he patted her bare leg
and swung his own over the side of the bed, stretching his arms above his head
before he stood up.
When she
saw him reach for his crutches, she said quickly, “No, wait, Nick, I’ll get it”
and forced herself out of his bed. She
wasn’t going to make him hobble all over the house to do something she was
fully capable of doing herself.
“Bathroom?” she asked, pointing.
“Yeah,” he
smiled. “Middle shelf of the
cabinet. Would you mind getting one of
my pills too while you’re in there?
They’re in the bottle on the counter.”
“Sure
thing.” She found a bottle of Aleve and
swallowed two of the tablets dry. Then
she picked up the orange prescription bottle sitting on his counter. It was for the antibiotic he had been
prescribed by the resident in the ER, and she checked the label, then shook one
pill out into her hand. She brought it
back into the bedroom for him and watched as he washed it down with a sip of
water from the glass on his bedside table.
“Is that stuff helping?” she asked.
He
shrugged. Leaning forward, he pulled off
his prosthetic sock and then peeled back the gauze bandage that covered the
ulcer. He frowned, and so did Claire,
when she got a good look at it.
“It doesn’t
look much better, does it?” she observed, noticing how red it still was.
“Not
really,” he mumbled and sighed, raking a hand through his hair.
“Well, it’s
only been two days… maybe it just takes longer to show any improvement,” Claire
said hopefully, not wanting him to get discouraged. “I guess we’ll find out more at your
appointment.” He nodded
wordlessly. She studied him for a
moment, then perched on the edge of the bed beside him. “I know this sucks, Nick,” she murmured,
sliding her arm around his waist. “No
use pretending it doesn’t. But it’ll go
away eventually, and then everything will get back to normal.”
He
snorted. “Depends on your definition of
‘normal’.”
She chose
to say nothing back to that. Instead,
she just ran her hand up and down his bare back, wishing she knew how to cheer
him up. She hated to see him be so down
on himself. It happened less and less
now, but there were still days when he got depressed, and there was not much
she could say or do to change that. She
told herself that just being there for him was a start, but sometimes she
worried it was not enough. He had been
scarred by what had happened to him in the past year or so, and she knew the
scars went much deeper than his skin.
But scars
on the outside faded with time, she thought, as her fingers brushed over the
end of the long scar that wrapped around his left side. The ones on the inside would fade too. They already had, to an extent.
“You’re
warm,” Claire commented, breaking the silence.
Her hand had reached the back of his neck, and she could feel heat
radiating from his skin there.
“I think
maybe I’m running a fever again,” he muttered, and her hand immediately went
around to his face, lightly touching his cheek, then pressing against his
forehead. Feeling the warmth against her
palm, she nodded.
“I think so
too,” she said, pursing her lips as she studied him. “Maybe we should get ready and head to the
hospital, huh?”
He nodded
reluctantly, but made no move to get up.
“You wanna shower first?” he asked.
“Why, do I
smell?” she teased, elbowing him lightly.
Heck, she probably did, like beer and stale cigarette smoke from being
in the bars. The clothes she’d had on
last night had to smell just lovely as well.
“Nah, I was
just thinking it would save time if we showered together,” he replied, turning
to her and waggling his eyebrows a little.
She
grinned. Now there was her
Nick. “Hey, good point,” she said. “We wouldn’t want to waste time, now would
we?”
“Course
not. You know how eager I am to get back
to the ER.”
She just
laughed.
They
showered together and got dressed, him in a t-shirt and shorts, her in the
t-shirt of his she’d worn to bed and a baggy pair of his sweatpants. They ate a quick breakfast, then left. On the way to the hospital (he let her drive
the Jag), they stopped by Claire’s apartment so that she could change clothes
and brush her teeth.
By
ten-thirty, Claire was sitting in an exam room at the hospital, nearly
identical to the one they’d been in on Monday, watching as Dr. Yoder examined
Nick.
“You’re
right,” the young physician was saying, “the antibiotic isn’t working as well
as it should. You should have noticed a
decrease in the redness and swelling, and instead, the red area seems to be
even higher on your leg. That’s a sign
that the infection is starting to spread.”
Claire drew
in a breath and looked at Nick, who appeared more annoyed than anything
else. She felt bad for him. He seemed to have horrible luck when it came
to stuff like this. He’d done everything
the doctor had instructed, and still the infection hadn’t gone away. Now it was spreading. That didn’t sound good, and she wondered if
there was worry beneath his mask of annoyance.
She was concerned and wanted to know what this resident planned
to do for him now.
“I’d like
to put you on a more powerful antibiotic,” Dr. Yoder went on, without either of
them having to ask, “but it can only be given intravenously – through an IV –
which means you will have to be admitted to the hospital.”
“What?!”
Nick cried, his expression contorting to one of pure outrage. “You want me to stay in the hospital? For how long??”
“Just a few
days, and then you can switch back to an oral antibiotic and continue the
treatment on an outpatient basis.”
Nick sighed
and looked down, covering his hand with his face briefly before looking over at
Claire. She bit her lip and looked into
his eyes, not saying anything. He
shifted his gaze back to the doctor.
“Can this wait till after the weekend?” he asked.
Dr. Yoder
shook her head. “No,” she said, “that’s
not a good idea.”
“But…” Nick sighed again, his frustration
evident. “I can’t be in the hospital for
the next few days; I have plans on Saturday, and-“
“Nick,”
Claire cut in, hoping to calm him down, “don’t worry about Saturday, okay? We can talk later; we’ll figure something
out.” Moving was the least of her
concerns right now; if his infection was serious enough to land him in the
hospital, that was what they needed to worry about.
Nick only
glanced at her briefly and didn’t reply, focusing back on the doctor
instead. “What happens if I don’t do the
hospital/IV crap?” he asked, an ounce of hostility in his voice.
“The
infection will continue to spread,” Dr. Yoder answered him forwardly. “Cellulitis can spread very rapidly, and once
it gets below all the layers of skin, it can get into your bloodstream or lymph
nodes and spread throughout your body.
If it isn’t treated, it could become life-threatening.”
Her heart
skipping a beat, Claire’s eyes immediately flew back to Nick as she waited
anxiously to hear his reply. If he was
going to be a fool and refuse- No, take
that back – she wouldn’t let him be a fool and refuse. She was fully prepared to use whatever
tactics she could think of to make sure he did what the doctor said. This was nothing to mess around with.
Luckily,
Nick knew that. Apparently the word
“life-threatening” had done the trick because, subdued, he nodded. “Fine,” he mumbled, hardly audible. “When do I have to check in?”
Claire
practically sighed in relief, and when he looked over at her, she gave him a
tiny smile and touched his arm. Thank
you.
“The
sooner, the better,” Dr. Yoder answered Nick’s question. “I can call upstairs and find a room for you
now, and we’ll get you admitted and upstairs in the next hour or so.” Nick nodded again, silently agreeing. “Okay,” said the doctor. “Stay here, and I’ll make the
arrangements. Someone will be back to
check on you soon.”
As soon as
she was gone, Nick turned to Claire. “I’m
sorry,” he whispered, and the look in his eyes nearly broke her heart. He looked so sad, so guilty, as if he was
purposely messing up their plans.
She shook
her head. “There’s nothing to be sorry
for,” she said soothingly, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. “You can’t help this. If you have to stay in the hospital for a few
days, then you just do. It’s not
something either of us can change.”
He
sighed. “But what about Saturday?” he
asked.
“Well…” She paused, thinking. “My dad and Kyle are already planning to
drive down, and so is Howie… they’ve already rented the moving van for the
weekend… and my landlord’s counting on my apartment being vacant after
Saturday, so… unless you want to be there to supervise, I say we go ahead with
the move. Howie’ll be there, and he
knows your house even better than I do, so he can help me decide where to put
stuff and everything. What do you
think?”
Nick
nodded. “Okay. That works.
I just wish I could help…”
“Don’t
worry about it. Like I said before, I’ll
have plenty of men helping me; it’ll go fine.”
She offered him a reassuring smile.
He didn’t smile back. Oh well. Had she been in his position, she supposed
she wouldn’t have felt like smiling either.
Nick closed
his eyes momentarily, looking weary and feverish. When he opened them, he did not look at her,
but instead bowed his head, casting his eyes down. He stayed like that for a few moments,
appearing deep in thought. Finally,
after a spell, he spoke, his voice so low she had to lean closer to make out
his words.
“Why does
shit like this constantly happen to me?
It’s like no matter what I do, I can’t get away from it. Maybe I never will. Maybe it’ll be this way for the rest of my
life, one shitty thing after another, until I finally just die.”
His last
words hit her like blows to the chest.
She’d asked herself the same kind of questions, thought the same
thoughts… Why? Why is this happening? Why me?
When will it end? Will it ever
end? But hearing him say them out
loud now frightened her, and she squeezed his hand tightly, her fingernails
digging into his skin. “Nick, don’t talk
like that,” she pleaded, the words coming out more shrilly than she’d expected.
“I’m
sorry,” he said hollowly, without looking at her.
“This isn’t
the end of the world, you know,” she added, almost angry with him now. How dare he complain about this, when he’d
made it through things that were so much worse?
He should be counting his blessings, not his curses. He was lucky to be alive.
And yet,
she was sure he didn’t feel too lucky sometimes. Neither did she. They’d both beaten the odds… but how could
they call themselves lucky, with all that they’d had to face?
Just as
quickly as it had come, her anger faded.
How could she be mad at him for feeling like that, when she herself had
felt the same way from time to time? It
was only natural.
She tried
again to talk to him. “Nick, I’m
sorry. I know how you feel. This sucks; it really does. It’s a setback for sure… and there might be
more setbacks later down the road. But
you can’t dwell on them. You gotta just
keep going and concentrating on the good stuff.
Like the fact that when you get out of here in a few days, I’ll be all
moved in, and we’ll be together.” She
paused, then added, “Of course, after about a week, you’ll probably be ready to
kick me out, but…”
She looked
over, happy to see a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Finally, he looked back at her. “I’d never kick you out. You’re like the one thing in my life that
doesn’t suck.”
“I’m not the only thing in your life that
doesn’t suck, Nick. But even so, I guess
I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said with a wry smile. But beyond the smile, she was worried. He usually kept so much inside… she wondered
if he felt this way more often than he let on.
Maybe the
scars hadn’t faded so much after all.
***