It's Understandable: A Tronnor AU

18. Lungs

As it turns out, nothing was as certain as Connor wanted it to be. He had found some hope, some light in this series of unfortunate events that was his life, and he thought that maybe destiny would be nice to him for once. But, once again, he was disappointed. The candle just had to be blown out, didn't it? There just had to be a however.

Helpless, that's how Connor felt. Without a seatbelt, he was in a speeding Jeep on a gravel road. His hands binded, a blindfold tied too tight over his eyes, each hit of a pothole jerked him hard into the wall so he concussed himself into misery. He felt defeated, especially now that he was parked at a crossroads, with no control over which direction he went down. Heart so overwhelmed, the last thing he needed was more reasons to be ambivalent about the life of his mother. But that was exactly what was coming his way.

Cheryl was okay at the moment, that was true, but not even Dr. Nilson's sweet, kind voice could sugarcoat that her life was like water in a rotting bowl of cardboard. The truth was that Cheryl wouldn't be okay for long. She was a pin cushion for the sharp teeth of the machines latching onto her, the ones she would die without. What Dr. Nilson was trying to say was that Cheryl might even die with them, if they didn't act fast. Reading from her clipboard, she explained the next step in saving Connor's mother. It was to be executed in a matter of minutes; rushed and high priority. Cheryl would be taken into the operation room for invasive, possibly detrimental surgery, to remove the bullets and repair any internal injuries from the shooting. It was heavy news, an update that could possibly lead to other news; news so much heavier that it would crush the young men to dust, so Dr. Nilson wanted so bad to be light with it. To fluff it up for their sakes, but she couldn't. This was her job, so she told Connor and Troye the nasty truth outright. "I just want you two to be aware that this is a very risky surgery." She explained in her calmest doctor voice. "The bullet in the shoulder can be easily taken out, but the second is near the vital organs, which makes it a bit more dangerous to attempt to remove."

Connor mumbled something pained and incoherent, putting his face in his hands, and Troye visibly gulped. "So...so she might die?" He murmured, his face downcast as Connor's scrunched up in pain at the word die.

Dr. Nilson kept her voice steady, to assure them. "We have some of the best surgeons in the state working on this case." She said, her heart hurting a little as Troye pulled Connor's body closer to his. They were too young to be experiencing something so gruesome, and she couldn't help but put a firm hand on Connor's shoulder. "Your mom is in very good hands. We will do our very best to make sure she walks out of here alive, okay?"

Connor nodded sullenly. Though he understood that there was hope, he had kind of run out of the will to handle things. His sanity was a rabbit pulled from the hat of his mind, by the corrupt magician of circumstance, and it was running away as fast as it's little legs could carry it. Fleeting, hiding from him, because it was just one thing after another. First his dad left, then they had to move, then the bullying happened, then the cutting and eating disorders. And then, just when things were getting so much better, the shooting occured, followed by this damn unneeded news. He tried to find ease in the doctor's sympathetic smile, or the succoring way Troye had his hands placed on his waist and stomach, but his ennui wasn't the type to be relieved by compassion.

Dr. Nilson looked over her shoulder, realizing she needed to get back to work. "Do you have any questions?" She asked in conclusion.

Connor, needing some kind of release, looked to her with his jaded jade eyes. "No just, um..." He fingered the cardboard box and plastic cylinder deep in his front pocket. "Is smoking prohibited out in the parking lot?"

"Well, no. Only inside the hospital." Dr. Nilson stammered, shocked for a second. She wasn't expecting a teenage boy to openly ask her if he could smoke, but the stoic, sad expressions on both boys' faces lead her to ignore it. "Just make sure you stay at least ten feet from the entrance, that's all."