You Give Love a Bad Name

"Lena..."

Ignoring the voice, I tried to hold on to the fragments of my escaping dream, shutting and shielding my eyes from the sudden burst of bright light that entered the dreary hospital room.

"Lena."

I squeezed my eyes tighter before fluttering them open a bit, instantly regretting that decision as I was blinded by the ray of liquid gold that streamed from the open window.

"Lena, can you hear me?"

I shut out Dr. Rae's voice out of my head as I stared at the different curtains in front of me. The different color, the different pattern, the different length...I was not in 'my' hospital room. Furrowing my eyebrows, my eyes focused on the left wall instead. It was a warm light-peach shade instead of the bleached-white walls that I stared at just yesterday, and the floor under it was made out of polished wood that had a dull sheen and numerous scratches from the many patients before me.

It was two days after I found out about the real damage the crash had caused - the loss of my two friends. Two days of food being shoved down my throat to keep my strength up. So I could stay alive - something that Cara and Jake could never be again. Two days of crying my eyes out and ignoring my family. Two days of remembering and the tormenting nightmares.

"We moved you to a regular room from intensive care while you were sleeping."

There was no trees outside my new window. No life. A faded and crumbling brick wall blocked my vision a twenty or so feet from the windowsill.

"You are getting better with every passing day. Your progress is astounding. If your recovery maintains the same constant speed, I don't see why you can't be home in another two or so weeks."

I turned my tired and red eyes towards the doctor, feeling that slight movement take more out of me than a day at an amusement park would. How could he say that I was better when I felt so...dead inside?

He stood silent for a minute, almost like he was reading my thoughts, clipboard to his chest and his smile faded, his eyes studying me with cautious concern, before sighing and walking to stand right in front of me, leaning so we were face to face. "I'm not going to lie to you, it is going to hurt. Probably more than anything you had ever experienced. I wish we had pills and shots and other remedies for emotional pain that we have for physical. But we don't. I'm sorry."

Feeling the tears well up in my eyes, I turned away, facing the dead end once again.

"But in times like these, you need to remember that your family - the same one that came here every day for four months when you laid unmoving and unconscious, without ever losing hope - will always be there for you. If you don't want to fight for yourself, you need to fight for them."

I bit my lip, burying my face in the crisp hospital pillow, feeling like something suddenly ripped and dropped in my stomach.

"It's hard," I felt a hand on my hair. "But it's going to get better."

We stayed like that for a while, Dr. Rae standing beside my bed, patiently waiting for me to stop sobbing, and me helplessly trying to control those bitter tears. Finally, about five minutes later, hiccuping and with a runny nose, I lifted my head up.

"Better?" he asked softly, pulling out a Kleenex from the pale blue box that stood on the small bedside table that was a couple of inches from my bed, and handing it to me.

I nodded, gratefully taking it from him and blowing my nose.

"You have a visitor, but before I let him in here," Dr. Rae started again, looking at his watch, "I just want to tell you the basics of your current condition. Up to it?"

I nodded again, watching as the tired man in front of me checked his clipboard.

"Well, like I said before, your progress to recovery is astounding. It looks like you won’t have any problems regaining your full use of speech like we thought you would in the beginning, but I would still take it easy and not strain myself if I were you. Your body is somewhat weak right now from the lack of movement, but we can fix that by starting you out on a ten-minute stroll in a wheelchair outside. With a nurse keeping watch, off course. Even though your cast came off, you still -"

Cast? I looked up at him quickly, my eyes proceeding to look around my body in confusion.

"Yes. You broke your left leg in the car accident," Dr. Rae informed me, lightly taping my left leg through the sheets, almost like he expected a dull thumping sound to be heard from the invisible plaster. "We took it off a month ago, when you were still in a coma. Normally it takes around six weeks for the bones to heal, but it takes another six weeks to get all your muscles and blood vessels to heal and function properly."

I looked down and tried to imagine myself with a cast. First time I've broken a bone, and I wasn't even awake to see it.

There was a knock on my door, making both of our heads turn towards the sound.

"Come in!" Dr. Rae called, and turning to me, he chuckled slightly, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement. "Well, I suppose it's time for me to go. This young man came to see you a couple of hours ago, but I told him that you needed your rest after last nigh, and he's been eagerly asking me if you were awake ever since."

The door opened, and nurse Georgie came in with a tray full of the disgusting hospital food, followed by a hunched and familiar form with the features that were so dear to my heart.

"Hello, Gerard," Dr. Rae greeted my brother with his usual warm smile. "I don't see your parents and brother with you today."

Gerard shrugged. "Mikey will be here as soon as school is over, and Mom fell asleep a couple of hours ago on the couch. I fell bad about waking her up - she is so drained nowdays. And Dad is working. It's hard for him to take days off, even in a crisis like this. Plus, he...", he trailed off, trying to find the right words, "he can't really afford to miss work now that Mom is here with Lena all the time."

Of course. Medical bills.

"Oh. Well, I'll leave you two alone - I'm sure you two have a lot to catch up on," Dr. Rae offered, looking at Gerard sympathetically and waiting till Georgie set the tray on the bedside table so both of them could walk out the room, the door snapping behind them with a click

Gerard's eyes instantly focused on me. I stayed silent, studying his caved-in features with horror. He looked far worse than he did the day that I woke up - something that I thought wasn't possible.

"Hey," he whispered to me, not moving an inch from the doorway towards me.

I wanted to say something back, but I was taken back by his tired and bloodshot eyes, and sullen, pale complexion. He looked like he was about to fall asleep any moment, and was forcing himself to stay awake and go through the movements of life.

We looked at each other without a word until Gerard sighed and sat down on the edge of my bed, looking at his hands. "I forgot that it's hard for you to talk. Hell," his fingers turned white as they clenched his knees, "it's so easy to forget that there's anything wrong whenever I see your face. I just see my kid sister in front of me. Thin, confused, and tired, but still my little sister. I tend to forget about what...what happened. I don't know if it happens accidentally, or because deep down I know I want to forget for at least a second."

I opened my mouth to try and tell him that I know how he felt, but he interrupted me before I could say anything, head down and oblivious to my efforts. "You have no idea how long I wanted to talk to you alone. No Mom, no Dad, no Mikey - just us. Just like the old times."

Gerard started to shake, and I could tell that he was close to breaking down before me. I was both scared and grateful for that at the same time. Scared because I couldn't remember the last time I saw Gerard crying, and grateful because I could imagine how long he had everything pent up and boiling in his system. A release would be more than good for him.

Carefully, I took one of my brother's tense hands in my own, covering his big palm with both of my own small hands.

Gerard looked up at me and smiled sadly. "People underestimate you so much, Lena. Everyone. Even I do sometimes. They think that you're too fragile to know some things due to your current situation. And maybe they're right and I'm just trying to make myself better, telling myself that it's okay to come here and tell you what's wrong with my life..."

He broke off to turn away and wipe away a stray tear with his free hand as fast as possible, almost like he was trying to do everything in his power so I couldn't see how upset he was. I squeezed his other hand, starting to stroke his palm in what I hoped to be a soothing way.

Gerard bit his lip, sitting next to me without hardly moving a muscle. All of a sudden he sighed, standing up and walked over to the window, his hand slipping away from my gripping fingers. After a couple of minutes of him blankly staring at the brick wall outside my window, he turned to face me with a helpless expression prominent on his sunken features.

"Fuck, Lena," Gerard's face crumpled again. "I don't know what to do. I just don't know what to do. I would give my heart and soul for you to be better. Make a deal with the Devil. Whatever it takes."

I let my hand fall to my lap, still feeling the warmth from Gerard's skin tingle against my cold flesh. He started pacing, looking up at the ceiling. First it was slow, and then it was faster. And then he stopped altogether and turned to stare at me.

"I think it's better for you to hear this from me than anyone else," he whispered, sighing and coming to sit beside me again, his eyes holding mine. The only difference being that now both of my hands were in his, instead of the other way around. "When you were...unconscious," his forehead creased, "I kind of lost it. After Cara and Jake's funeral, I started drinking like crazy. And doing...other things. I was in rehab for two moths."

My eyes widened and I heard a chocking sound come from somewhere deep inside my throat.

"No, no, don't worry, I'm better now." Gerard's hands tightened in reassurance as he scooted closer to me. "It was a bad time for all of us. I was out all night, Mikey was completely antisocial. Melanie was beside herself with worry." He chuckled grimly, shaking his head. "She and Logan were our duct tape back then. Them, Bob and Ray were pretty much the only thing that held us together."

I smiled, imagining how it must have been. Ray, with his attempts at a serious conversation in hopes that it would take your mind off things, even if only for a couple of minutes. Bob, with his lame jokes in an obvious attempt to make you laugh. Melanie, her sassy personality always making you wonder what she is going to do next, and Logan, blushing whenever somebody jokingly made fun of him. There was a pang in my chest as I realized how much I truly missed them.

"Logan's been practically living at our house," Gerard chuckled. "He's a good kid. He and Mikey had gotten pretty close. Who knew that they had that much in common?"

My smile widened as I pictured Mikey and Logan talking together. The contrast of their appearances was startling and bemusing even in my head.

Gerard grinned, pulling me into a hug. "See? That's what I like to see. You happy and smiling."

I laughed into his shoulder, feeling more at peace with myself than I have ever been after my waking up from the coma. Maybe things would get better after all?