Friends First, Lovers Always | ✔

FIVE | FIVE

     "When can I leave?" Levi asks the next time he wakes. The pain is sharper, so they must've lightened the drugs. His mother is where he left her, his sister too, both of them kneading their hands.

     "Hush, Levi, you've just woken up."

     His mother calls for the nurse. The nurse comes, doses him with morphine, and Levi goes back to sleep.

     It's hard to keep up with time when they keep knocking him out. Diazepam when he wakes up dripping sweat, crying hysterically with a heart rate like a hummingbird. Morphine for when the pain is so bad he can't see anything but darkness. It's easier at night, when his mother and sister are home, and he can see the stars from his window.

     Jackie is Levi's favorite nurse. She works the night shift. She comes in and says, "Want me to close that?"

     She points to the curtains. Levi shakes his head.

     "You've been good," she says as she looks at his heart monitor. "Your recovery is remarkable, Levi."

     "It doesn't feel remarkable," he mumbles back. This must be the fifth or sixth week, he thinks. But what does it even matter. There's nothing he needs to rush back to, anymore. "Do you have my morphine?" he asks quietly.

     "Are you really still in that much pain? We might have to have the doctor look at you." She sits down on the bed and looks at him levelly. "Where does it hurt?"

     Levi places a hand on his chest. When he takes a breath, it feels tight. "Everywhere, honestly."

     She looks at him, quizzically. "You only fractured a few ribs. They ought to have healed by now." She reaches over, moving the gown to the side so she can palpate his chest. Levi doesn't flinch. "They're fine." Her stare hardens. "You haven't been having any pain, have you?"

     Levi can't explain his pain to her. He can't put into words what it feels like. It's like breathing under water but not drowning, just bearing the whole experience. He can't describe how agonizing everything feels now. The effort it takes to open his eyes, to look at this world that's one without Gideon in it. He is in so much pain it amazes him that it doesn't radiate through his skin and make everyone a victim.

     "I shouldn't be here," he mutters lowly. "I can't be here."

     "What do you mean?" Jackie asks, raising an eyebrow. "Where should you be?"

     "I should've died, too," he says and he instantly regrets it because that's the kind of thing that'll get him a psyche hold, which isn't what he wants. He wants to go home, so he can figure out the cocktail of medications he needs to self-medicate himself enough to not feel anything ever again.

    "Should've died too? Who died, honey?"

     Levi starts to say his name but it's hard. His face is wet with preemptive tears. Jackie hands him a tissue, but he doesn't pat his face dry. The tears dribble down his chin, into the neckline of his hospital gown.

     Finally, Levi says, "Gideon" and it comes out like a sob.

     Jackie looks confused at first. Then she reaches over and hugs Levi, pulling him into her chest. "I'm so sorry, oh god, I'm so sorry, Levi. Oh no, this makes so much sense now."

     Levi clutches at Jackie's shoulders, dampening her scrubs with snot and tears. It's more real, now, he thinks, with Jackie's acknowledgement. The pain quakes through him. He feels nauseated.

     "Oh hey, Levi, calm down. Come on. Do just like we worked on. One breath in. That's it. You're okay, you're okay."

     "Please, please, stop telling me I'm okay. I am the exact opposite of okay."