Shades of Gray

Jack stares at me in that weird, confused way while Hayley, the nurse and safe drunk, checks my heartbeat. Two other nurses wheel Alex out of the room for emergency fluid draining or something like that. He looks stubborn enough, so I figure that if he claims he's not gonna die, he won't.

"You're steady," Hayley beams, and I smile back, containing the bored expression I want to have, just to satisfy her.

"Can I get out of here soon, maybe?" I ask, surprised at how incoherent I sound.

Hayley looks at me for a second. "We'll want to take some more blood samples, and maybe put you in an induced coma, but maybe if you're well rested by then, you'll be out in a couple days."

"I was under the impression that sedatives are dangerous," says Jack, all composed, like he didn't just make out with me, or like me not actually making out back didn't bother him in the slightest.

"It'll be different," Hayley reassures him. "We'd be targeting specific lobes of the brain for recharge and rest, not sleep. Hopefully by then we can somehow, for a better lack of terms, rewire his body to sleep on schedule."

"I'll ask for more information on that from Dr. Walker," Jack tells her, referring to his professor. Hayley gives him a smile and clamps her hand on my shoulder before informing me she'll be back in half hour for my shower.

"Great," I laugh weakly. "She gets to wash my dick. I bet she's prefer that than the original drunken sex."

Jack just looks at me with a raised eyebrow, then rolls his eyes.

"So how'd it feel?" he asks, and I don't get what exactly 'it' is.

"How does it feel to kiss with no sexual desire?" he clarifies, crossing his legs in a way that's pretty damn gay.

I shrug, rolling over to my side, looking up at him through the bed bars. "It's like when you give mouth kisses to little kids, I guess. Just a mouth on mouth."

"Oh," is all he says, and for a second I feel bad, he sounds disappointed, but then he clears his throat and flips through my CPA textbook.

"What've you been doing?" I ask quietly, watching the rise and fall of my pants the line on the monitor tracking my heartbeat.

"Sitting here," Jack sighs, eyes falling to his lap. He runs a hand through his floppy hair (seriously, the guy should spike it up or something). "Just watching you."

"Seriously?" I ask, eyes widening just a little too much.

Jack shakes his head, laugh falling out of his mouth. "I've been busy."

"That's nice," I comment, another migraine taking itself over me.

"Not all of us don't have a sex drive," he says, propping his feet up over my knees.

"Double negative," I tell him, weak smile.

"Fuck off," he says, eyes fixed on the medication bag hung on the rolly-rack. "What's that one for?"

He's pointing to the green bag, and I shrug tiredly. "Morphine? I don't know. I've been high off my ass for days."

"What's it like being in a coma?" he continues, looking genuinely curious.

"Um," I try. The idea of being in a coma still makes me nervous. "You kind of just? Wake up? It's like when you dismiss your alarm and close your eyes for a few seconds, and suddenly, you're hours late for class. I don't know. I didn't have one of those ethereal experiences, though."

"I bet you dreamed," Jack grins. "I bet you dreamed about flowers and meadows and me fucking you up the ass."

I feel myself blush slightly. "I'm sure you're the one who dreamed about that. I don't dream."

"You look like a fucking doll," he replies as I try to itch my face through the mitten. "Why are you wearing that anyway?"

I don't really want to tell him about my previous episodes, so instead I just shrug and ask, "Where's my mom?"

"She comes while you sleep. She says she can't handle seeing her son like this."

Thanks, mom. "Like what?"

Jack takes a look at me. "Dude, there are dark circles under your eyes like someone repeatedly punches you every hour, and you're a stick. I don't know how you sound like in your head, but on a scale of 1-10, I can understand you a 4. You're one point shy of sounding like my great grandma, who has no teeth."

"Thanks," I reply as sarcastic and clearly as I can.

When Hayley returns with a washcloth and shampoo, I start to take notice with how much of a baby she treats me. Offhanded comments, like "can you stand up for me?" and "we're going to start by unknotting your gown."

It takes so much effort just to walk to the bathroom, which is a good eight feet away from the bed. My legs feel heavy, and when I stand up, I immediately fall back down, blackness blocking my vision. I start to notice that everything is sort of disoriented, like how when I step forward it feels like I've stepped down into something. This, I'm sure, is not a sign of good health.

"Do you want the door closed or open?" Hayley asks, and I am about to tell her to keep it open, but then Jack winks at me from the chair next to my bed, and I tell her to close it.

I steady myself against the rail. "A bath would feel so nice right now," I sigh.

Hayley takes the nightgown and mittens off of me, not even fazed by the awkwardness. I'm fairly certain she's my age, maybe younger. How the fuck is she a nurse?

"We can take a bath," she says. "If you want."

It takes me a second to realize that holy fuck, there's an actual bathtub in here. Nurse Hayley runs the water, leaving me sitting on the awkward handicapped bench. It's fairly cold in here.

"Water's warm," she informs me, taking my arm lightly. "Your bruises are going away," she notes.

"Bruises?"

She traces a faint mark along my torso. "These were here before you came in, and you've got a few along your arms, too. Your brain isn't taking in enough oxygen."

"Great," I say, hand on the rail. Hayley helps me step into the tub, and the water burns me at first touch.

She washes my hair with ease, humming every so often. I start to feel sweaty and hot, but when I complain, she dismisses it, saying it's just the heat of the water, but when hot turns to freezing, she rinses me off, dries me and dresses me quickly, and calls for another nurse.

They shoo Jack out of the room, situating me back in my bed. Hayley takes my temperature.

"Fever's high," she tells the other nurse. "Get him back on the IV and off medication. Have Dr. McAndrews on standby in case of seizure."

"McAndrews is in surgery," the other girls says, but leaves the room anyway.

I black out a little bit after that.

***

When I wake up, I'm in a different room, and the lights are really fucking bright. My mother is sitting in a chair besides me. I feel different. When my mom notices I'm awake, she grins, and starts to cry a little.

"They told me you weren't going to wake up again, y'know," she says. "But I know my son. Stubborn, you are. Of course you're okay."

"Where am I? Where's Jack?"

She gives me a little frown, then reaches over and brushes my hair with her fingers. "I don't know who you're talking about, sweetheart. Josh was here a little while ago, though."

I blink, and then yawn.

"Told them you'd be okay. You were awake earlier, do you remember?"

"No?" I answer.

She shrugs, going back to reading her book. "You've got a little amnesia. It's alright. Go back to sleep. Dr. Weiss will be here in about an hour or so. Get some rest."

And I do.