Chapter 26: Awakening 2 (Jason)

(Pov Jason)

“Join us later for interviews with our brave men and women holding the front in Grants Pass.” The voice was remote, muffled, like he was hearing it through a door or water that somehow still transmitted comprehensible sound.

His eyes felt stitched together, heavy like they were made of solid tungsten. His limbs felt like they were suspended in molasses, or encased in concrete for that matter. Worst of all, his mouth tasted worse than the old liquid slurry tanks from when they still had livestock. Which was to say, it tasted like shit… or death.

It took him herculean effort to get his eyelids to part enough, to let even a sliver of the harsh light past. A quiet beeping in the background grew slightly faster. Whatever he was lying on shifted slightly before returning to normal a few seconds later. 

He blinked, the light somehow harsher now than it was seconds ago. Brighter than it should be, too; it was closer to sunset, wasn't it? 

He slowly took in the room around him, white on white, except for some very uncomfortable-looking chairs and a sofa. He was lying in a… hospital bed?

Someone squeezed his arm gently. He slowly looked over, finally noticing a pair of crimson eyes set in a stunning face wearing a soft, concerned smile, surrounded by a golden halo of reflected sunlight. 

“Hey, you.” Jasmine's voice was low and calm. Her eyes studied his face. 

“Jasmine?” His voice was gravelly, the words taking far more effort than they did only seconds ago. 

“Yeah, that's me.” She let out a barely audible sigh.

“Where am I?” He took in the green jacket over the blue shirt she was wearing. Are those rank and ID patches? “And why does it look like you're in a uniform? When did you have time to…”

“Good morning, Mister Smallers. It's great to see you back in the land of the living.” A woman with hair brown as wet earth and olive skin stepped into the room. She wore a long white coat. He couldn't tell if it was a doctor's coat or a lab coat. More importantly, she had red eyes.

Jason blinked. “I, uh… I am sorry?” A knot of dread formed in his chest.

The doctor walked over to the beeping instruments next to him. “My apologies, you have been here a while. And while I feel I know you rather well–” She cast a meaningful glance at Jasmine.”–I have yet to introduce myself. I am Dr. Cassandra Lorenze. But please just call me Cassandra.”

It did answer one question, not the one he wanted answered. Do they know each other?

His confusion must have been written all over his face as the doctor… Cassandra continued.

“Can you please tell me your mother's name?” Her voice was gentler.

Jason's eyebrows furrowed so deeply they almost gave him a monobrow. “Samantha Smallers.”

She quickly asked a series of other questions: where he worked, who his sister was, whether he was dating anyone and their names, what day he first met Jasmine, his full name, and who the president of the United States of America was. 

“What's the date? As close as you can manage.”

“May nineteenth, twenty twenty six.” He answered immediately.

Cassandra noted something on her tablet, pointedly ignoring the glance from Jasmine. They moved on quickly after that, but something felt off. Like they were both walking on eggshells.

She had him show that he could bend his toes and fingers. She even flashed his eyes with a small flashlight.

“I am sorry. Is there a reason you are asking me all this?” He felt Jasmine's grip on his hand tighten. 

Cassandra hesitated for a second. “Mr. Smallers, you have just woken up from a medically induced coma. Unfortunately, when we tried to wake you originally, you didn't regain consciousness as planned. You required extensive surgical intervention, and while you were stable, you weren't in any condition where we could have you moving around while you recovered between surgeries.”

His heart was throbbing in his ears, and cold sweat was starting to run down his back. He had been in a damn coma. How the heck had he ended up in a coma? How… How long had he been in a coma? Where was he? His thoughts threatened to run amok, kept in check only by the small circle Jasmine had started tracing on the back of his hand, grounding him in the present. 

“How… How long… Have I?” He couldn't finish the sentence, let alone bring himself to look at either of the two people here.

“Six weeks.” She hesitated. “You were supposed to wake up two weeks ago.”

Six weeks. He hadn't been to graduation; he had lost nearly all of June. Time evaporated like a drop of water on a hot plate.

“How did I?” He wanted to slap himself; he should be able to finish a god damn question.

“Can you tell us what you remember from just before you found yourself here?”

They clearly didn't mean the pitch-blackness before he opened his eyes. So then it was what had happened before that. The soldiers breaking into his house, being dragged out of the house and into the barn, the interrogation, Chloe being… a bottomless pit formed in his stomach. 

“Is Chloe okay?” His voice sounded strained and small even to him. The boyfriend was supposed to protect his girlfriend, right? People had broken into his house, and he had been utterly and completely useless. Was… Was she hurt?

“Chloe's fine, Jason. She wasn't injured or hurt. She might be a bit rattled by the whole experience, but physically speaking, she's fine.”

 A breath he didn't know he had been holding escaped his lips. That was fantastic news. Still, a weak sense of worry clawed at the back of his mind. I kinda get it if she wants to…

He was interrupted by Jasmine before he could finish the thought. “She misses you. She hasn't stopped calling to ask how you're doing.”

Cassandra cleared her throat rather loudly next to them. “It's good to see that you have some memory of events, but I do need you to reiterate what happened.”

“Yeah, of course, sorry. We were standing between the barn and the house. The woman, the one giving all the orders, was behind me. You two came to some agreement, and then as I was walking over to you, someone hit me in the back… three… times with a… sledgehammer.” His voice tapered off as he spoke. Memories flooded back: Jasmine screaming, him sitting against a wall, chunks of flesh hanging from his stomach as his T-shirt turned a very unhealthy sticky red, the calm and intense focus on Jasmine's face.

“You… Uh… you told me it was going to hurt.” His gaze locked onto Jasmine's. “I got shot, and then you told me it was going to hurt. That's the last thing I remember.”

“That's all well and good, Mr. Smallers, but I do need you to actually tell me what happened. Unfortunately, you stopped halfway through. Take all the time you need.”

It didn't take him long to retell the story. Even if it was exceptionally awkward to start with, that quickly melted away as other… feelings took over. Ones he had no plan of dwelling on for too long.

“So I have one question. Was I really that badly injured? With the coma and all.” He sank down into the bed as he asked it. But he needed something, anything but another replay of the feeling of a sledgehammer hitting him in the back.

The two women shared a look that carried far more weight than he liked it to. Jasmine shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

It took only moments before his fiancée spoke. “Jason, honey, I am not… I am not a healer, in that I don't have that much skill with healing magic. I can fix simple stuff just fine. Your injuries weren't simple.” She hesitated, drawing a shuddering breath. “I stopped the bleeding, but the subsequent scar tissue and partially healed tissue made everything far more complicated. I am sorry.” The last words were heavy, carrying enough weight to crush most buildings.

Thwomp

Cassandra hit Jasmine over the head with some rolled-up paper. “So let me just say what this one here won't. Maybe she can get it into her skull too. If she hadn't done what she did, you would have been dead in minutes. Your bowels were leaking in multiple locations; multiple arteries had been damaged, and bone and bullet fragments had been thrown around in your lower guts like confetti. Seriously, your lower intestine looked like a honeycomb; it's a small miracle you aren't shitting in a bag for the rest of your life. The situation could only have been improved if you were close enough that we got to you immediately, and if the fucking bitch who shot you hadn't used hollow points.” 

It was somewhat comforting seeing his doctor get so worked up over the fact that he was shot. Though it did strike him as slightly unprofessional. Maybe we're in the same clan. The thought did make a certain amount of sense. He might not think about it a lot, but he was technically a clan member. Luckily, not in the southern sense. Do noctians dislike crosses?

Jasmine dragged him back to reality. “Attacking a thrall isn't something we look kindly on. Trying to kill one isn't normally something people get away with- well, not with their head still attached to their body, that is.”

He was never going to admit to anyone that he kinda liked hearing her say something like that. After all, he was becoming her thrall, but he still tried to have some masculine dignity. A guy shouldn't need his fiancée to protect him. Not that Jason was too attached to the idea, but he was at least going to last as long as he could without admitting it. No matter how often his brain flashed back to his first meeting with Jasmine.

It didn't take long for the doctor to finish the rest of her checks. Seemingly satisfied, she turned to leave, only to stop in the door, turning towards Jasmine. 

“Remember, he's fragile, even by the standards of the fairer sex. He breaks easily. If you're going to fuck him, be careful. If you reopen his stitches, you will never hear the end of it.”

I am sorry, what? Had she just referred to Jason as a woman, or did she consider men the fairer sex? The latter kind of made sense, given how Jasmine treated him. Oh God, was I the damsel in distress?

Jasmine threw a pencil at the doctor as she cackled and left.

Jasmine rubbed her eyes before she got up and fluffed his pillow. “You should get some rest. I did contact your parents, and they and Chloe are on their way.”

He wasn't against the idea; he felt exhausted after all. Though he hadn't done much, other than waking up from a coma, that was. More than that, he felt awkward just leaving Jasmine alone here to watch him sleep until the others got here.

However, as he was about to object, Jasmine gave him a hard look that brooked no objections. As he did what he could to get into another position, she leaned down, placing her forehead against his. “I'll wake you up when they get here.”

She was probably right about needing the rest, as he fell asleep less than thirty seconds after closing his eyes.