One direction one shots

Part 3- Recovery

A/N: if you've watched Red Band Society, you'll understand. If not, please do; I can't really explain what's happening without confusing everyone more.

*Niall's POV*

I open my eyes quickly, but have to squint because of the bright lights shining down on my face. I shield my eyes with one hand and stand up, unsure of my surroundings. What's going on? Where am I? And why was I on the floor? I think. I look down at my bare feet and gown and that's when I finally notice that I'm laying on an operation table. But it's not me; I'm right here.

"If this is me, then who am I?" I ask no one in particular as I point to the table.

"Well, you're your conciseness. That means that you're almost dead," a voice says. I spin around to see a figure sitting in a chair. I can't see their face, but I know by their voice that they're a male.

"What do you mean, I'm almost dead? Who are you?" I ask. He stands but keeps his head down so I can barely see his eyes. He's wearing a dark hoodie so I can't make out his features either.

"Of course you wouldn't remember me; it was so long ago," he says.

"What are you talking about?" I demand.

"I wouldn't have expected this from you, Nialler. But then again..." he pulls off his hood and I gasp. "I also thought brothers remember each other."

"Greg?!" I say. He nods and moves toward me, pulling me into a hug before I can react. He pulls away, still holding my shoulders.

"Well look at you. All big and grown. How ya been?" he asks.

"I'm good. But I have a million questions," I tell him.

"Shoot."

"Well, first off, where have you been? What happened to coming back? Why are you here? What's going on?" I ramble. He laughs.

"Well, the thing is, you and I are just consciences. This is your real body." He motions to the boy on the table. I look and he looks like me; he is me. I nod and look back at Greg.

"If this is me, where are you?" I ask.

"Now that's a longer story. But when we were separated, I got adopted. We moved all over the place. We finally settled down after about three and a half years. Right down the street from your parents. I met them while you were gone one day. They're nice. But when I saw you outside playing with a little boy, I wanted to go over to you, but I couldn't muster up the courage to face you after all those years. At the time I was going through the dark phases; what you're going through. Dad went through it, too. That's why he left. But anyways, when I finally got the courage to go to you, I went into the darkest phase, like you. But I still haven't come out. That was four years ago. That's why I'm here; my room is just down the hall," he says. I nod and sit on the floor and he follows.

"Oh."

"Yeah. But you better get back into your body before the doctors finish the surgery," he tells me, nodding toward the table. He stands and helps me up.

"How?" I ask.

"Just lay down on the table and you and your body will mold together," he instructs. I hug him one last time.

"Goodbye." I follow his instructions and lay down in the exact position my own body is in, closing my eyes and feeling the two pieces morph into one. And suddenly I'm slipping into unconsciousness, the darkness surrounding me like a blanket.

(Seven hours later)

*Niall's POV*

I woke up to bright lights and funny feelings in my entire body; excluding my neck and up, of course. I blink a few times to get used to the lighting. I hear a soft sniffling sound and turn my head slowly to see Harry sitting in a chair by the bed, holding my hand in his; but for some reason, I can't feel his touch. His eyes are closed and there are tears dripping from them. I can hear him softly whispering, "it's all my fault; it's all my fault" over and over again. As badly as I want to tell him he's wrong or even to squeeze his hand, I can't. I don't know why, but I just can't. I put all my will into moving my finger and it works. Harry's head snaps up; his eyes wide.

"Niall?" he asks. I blink, looking straight at him.

"Niall! You're awake! Dad! Papa! He's awake!" Harry shouts. A few moments later, Dad, Papa, and a nurse come in.

"Niall? Can you hear me? Blink once for yes and twice for no," the nurse says, leaning into my face. I blink once and she smiles. She moves down the bed and looks at me. "Can you feel that?" she asks. I can see that she's touching my leg, but I don't feel anything. I blink twice. "Hmm..." she says.

"Hmm? What do you mean by 'hmm'?" Dad asks.

"It might just be worse than we thought, but I'll have to run some more tests. She moves back to the table by my side, pressing a button. I feel my head being pushed up and see my stomach and chest moving to a sitting position. The nurse moves close to me.

"Can you open your mouth for me, Niall?" she asks. I open my mouth as much as I can and she sticks a wooden stick onto my tongue. She shines a light into my mouth and looks in. "Hmm. Can you say something for me, Niall?" she asks, turning off the light and taking out the stick. I focus all my energy on forcing words from my head to my mouth and out, but all that comes out is a tiny squeak.

"What's going on? Is he gonna be okay?" Harry asks, somewhat frantically.

"He's gonna be fine, but he won't be able to talk any time soon. And he'll be paralyzed from the shoulders down for the rest of his life," the nurse says. "I'm sorry."

"Is there any good news?" Dad asks.

"Well, he can move his hands and I imagine in a few years he'll be able to talk a bit," the nurse says before leaving.

(*18 months later*)

"Dad, can I have some ice cream?" I hear Louis call.

"Me too?" Harry calls.

"Sure," Dad says. "You want some, too, NiNi?" he asks me. I nod and grin happily.

"Yes please," I say, though it sounds like I'm saying 'ye pea'. Dad brings me a bowl of ice cream and Papa feeds it to me. As soon as I finish, Papa wipes the ice cream from my lips and chin. I smile.

"Tank, Papa," I manage. Life like this isn't easy, but it's doable.