Living in Surreality - 27. Chapter 27

chapter 27:
: edited by viv :


The laundry list of injuries sustained had been substantial; broken femur, broken wrist, broken ulna, fractured radius, three broken ribs, and what the doctors went on to describe as near-catastrophic internal injuries. Including the internal bleeding that was collapsing Jacob's lungs, the bulk of the injuries were all on Jacob's left side, apparently the side that had taken the initial impact, or so the doctors surmised.

Matt knew the numbers, listening with catatonic silence as stories of the doctors' progress, and lack thereof, filtered out little by little from the operating room. It was one in the morning before Matt stood abruptly and walked out of the waiting rooms, abandoning the smell of stale coffee and the seemingly eternal waiting for news, any news. He couldn't sit and hope for the best, yet fear the worst. Matt didn't have it in him; he couldn't sit there when the doctors came out to say sorry, the red of Jacob's blood smeared on their gowns. No, he didn't want to hear that, not tonight. Maybe he could face that garish reality in the morning, perhaps then, it would be the Fourth all over again, and all of this would have been some horrible nightmare, but tonight, he just had to escape.

"Matty?" Valerie questioned, following Matt through the emergency room doors into the balmy July air.

She had been crying, that was easy to see. Her puffy swollen eyes attested to as much. Joanne had been crying as well, not in the waiting room and in front of Jacob's friends, but every twenty minutes or so when she stood abruptly and rushed off to refill her untouched cup of coffee. Matt hadn't cried, he just felt, numb, even empty, as he sat waiting to hear anything. The fact that he hadn't shed one tear for Jacob, the guy he thought he loved, scared Matt.

Looking around the still parking lot, Matt realized that Valerie had driven him. One moment he was serving watermelon to the same faces he saw with some bit of regularity, the next he was sitting in a sterile room, some doctor or another explaining what was happening. Just as suddenly, the doctor was gone, and hadn't been back.

"Take me home," Matt whispered, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with Valerie, not wanting her to know the awful truth of his unshed tears.

"Matty," Valerie begged.

"I," Matt began, cutting off whatever of Valerie's plea was coming next. "I can't," he stammered shaking his head. "I can't sit in there waiting for them to tell me he's dead. I... I just have to go home."

There was so much Valerie wanted to say, she wanted to ruin the serene silence of the parking lot by yelling at Matt and telling him he couldn't just give up like this, he couldn't just walk away. She wanted to beat the pain she felt into him and force him to be the man she knew he could be. Valerie did none of those things, instead offering only a weak nod as she started in the direction of where she had parked the Mustang.

Matt's silence permeated the entire ride home. He sat quiet and not moving in the front seat, his eyes staring blankly straight ahead, watching something Valerie couldn't figure out. The only time he did move was after they had been sitting in his driveway for about fifteen minutes. Valerie had reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder, offering nothing but the comfort and support he needed. Matt flinched, jerking from her touch in reaction, his eyes begging her in the darkness not to touch him or something bad might happen to her as well. The pleading look was altogether fleeting as Matt quickly hopped out of the front seat, sparing Valerie one last pitiful look before he dashed across the street to Jacob's house.

Valerie knew Matt well, better than perhaps he knew himself; she knew he was shutting down, preparing to block everyone and everything out again. She'd seen him do it in the past, those times usually centered on the harsh words of his father. For as much as Valerie knew Matt, that was one outcome she didn't know how to head off, it had always been a 'wait it out' thing in the past. Watching him rush away across the street, Valerie feared that this time, it wouldn't pass.

Matt stopped only long enough to flip over the small decorative boulder in Joanne's front garden, snatching up the key it concealed. He was through the front door as fast as could get the key into the lock and push it open. The door slammed with a resounding thud that shook the small craftsmen-style house as Matt flew up the stairs, two rungs at a time, his feet carrying him closer to his retreat.

Rounding the corner into Jacob's room, Matt stopped so quickly he almost fell forward, the scent of Jacob rushing his senses, colliding against him with the force of a thundering freight train. Easing the door closed behind him, Matt inhaled deeply, luxuriating in the smell, finding comfort in the peppermint tinged musk that was Jacob. He had never paid much attention to how much a room could smell like the person who lived there. Now, he did, that odd little fact playing across his mind as he pressed into the closed door, it holding him upright for a moment before gravity pulled him down.

Intoxicated with the smell of the man he loved, Matt stared at the empty bed that dominated the room as he pulled his knees up to his chest. Isolated and experiencing the last fleeting remains of Jacob that Matt feared he ever would, his defenses broke down as what comfort Matt had found in the smell was quickly overridden by a harsh sense of loss. A low guttural cry wracked Matt's body as tears fell with shocking ease from his eyes.

"Matty," Valerie whispered in a hush, her head resting against the opposite side of Jacob's bedroom door, her hand absently stroking the painted oak as if she could comfort her lifelong friend through an inch of solid wood.

Sleep that night was fitful, what little of it he did find, curled in a ball at the base of Jacob's door. His dreams, addled with snapshots of Jacob's smile, playing out like jerky home movies, only to be frozen in time on a memory board in a stuffy old Victorian home. Worse than the funerary feeling Matt got from the dream, was the aching sense of loss strangling his heart that he struggled with all night. D Dawn brought unwelcome respite on its garish rays. The light may have proved useful in chasing away the nightmares in Matt's mind, but it did nothing to solve the horror of reality, which Matt had secretly hoped was all a bad dream.

Jacob's house was quiet; Matt doubted Joanne had even been home yet. He found some relief in that fact. If she wasn't home, she had to be at the hospital still, which meant Jacob had to be alive still. The only other explanation would be that the woman went berserk when she received the news, and breaking down completely, had to be sedated. Matt doubted the second scenario his troubled mind concocted, choosing instead, to settle on the brighter idea.

His initial assumptions were proven wrong as he crept into the kitchen. Sitting in the middle of the table was the helmet, its glossy black surface gouged and scraped, the only witness to Jacob's fate. Matt didn't want to cross the marred relic, he didn't want to look at it, but he couldn't bring himself to look at anything else.

"Valerie," he mumbled, closing the distance between himself and the helmet with a coward's measure of trepidation. He was sure Joanne would have thrown it out before setting it on her kitchen table. That's what Matt would have done.

Matt's fingers trickled over the apex of the helmet, its once glossy surface gouged and abrasive to his apprehensive touch. The once clear visor now clouded with a fine coating of dust and a smear of red. Realizing what the red was, Matt's hand jerked away as if the helmet had burnt his fingers.

Panting breaths echoed off the kitchen walls, while Matt watched the helmet carefully, as if it would move of its own accord. It didn't and that pleased Matt, what didn't please him however, was the thought of Joanne coming home to find the relic sitting on her kitchen table, ruining whatever little solace she would be able to find. Resolved, Matt gathered up the helmet in his arms, handling it like a conservationist would handle any priceless, delicate object.

Cradling the helmet to his chest, Matt ascended the stairs to Jacob's room where he placed the helmet, with a measure of reverence, on the top of Jacob's bookcase, elevated above his abandoned football helmet and towering over the rest of the still room. Turning, a barren white wall and simple memory smacked Matt in the face.

'Draw me a picture; make it big and mural like, cover the whole wall,' Jacob's voice, the memory of it, kissed Matt's addled mind.

Set on what he was going to do to occupy time, and his befuddled mind, Matt gave the wall a cold stare and a curt nod. The silent challenge issued, Matt moved from Jacob's room and down the stairs. Making sure the key was in his pocket he stepped from the house's cool interior out into the bright day.

Across the street, Matt scurried around his room, gathering pencils, snatching pinned sketches off his wall, retrieving a sketch diary he kept stashed under his mattress. Mat placed the items he gathered safely, if not neatly, inside his book bag and rushed out of the house planning a quick trip to the local art-supply store.

It had been two days since Valerie had spent any real time with Matt, when he did appear to ask about Jacob, his face was smeared with paint. Matt would listen, then doggedly turn and head back up into the room he wouldn't let anyone else enter. Two days turned into four, and Valerie's patience with her usual tactic of waiting him out was wearing thin.

Valerie had been staying with Joanne the last few days, fixing meager meals, tending to whatever she could to help Joanne. Her charity had an ulterior motive; she was waiting for Matt, ready to be there when he needed her, if he ever did again.

There was as much determination in her stride towards the stairs, as was present in his face twenty minutes ago when he had come down to ask about Jacob, perhaps even more. Setting her steely gaze on the staircase, Valerie huffed in indignation as she moved towards it.

"Valerie," Joanne cautioned, standing from her seat on the couch with Valerie's abrupt action. "Dear?"

"He needs to come out," Valerie stated obstinately as she stared at the length of staircase.

"We're all dealing with this in our own way," Joanne stated, closing the distance so she could smooth her hands along Valerie's shoulders.

"He's being a stubborn child," Valerie accused, shrugging off Joanne's attempt at comfort. "The best thing that has ever happened to him is in the hospital, and he can't even be bothered to go and see him," she turned to face Joanne looking more hurt than angry. "He just stays up in that room, hiding... Jacob will get better if Matty visits him."

Joanne shook her head, as much as she wanted to believe Matt's visit would result in a miraculous recovery, she knew the possibility of that was non-existent, Jacob was facing long odds at best. Joanne pulled Valerie into hug, even though the young woman fought against it.

"I'll go talk to him," Joanne whispered, smoothing her hands down Valerie's back, amazed that her son and his condition had such a strong impact on this girl. "Ask him if he wants to go to the hospital with me," Joanne said as she led Valerie to a seat on the couch. Valerie nodded her weak assent as Joanne moved away and headed up the stairs.

She had to admit that her curiosity got the best of her when she allowed it to ponder what Matt was up to in Jacob's room. Like Valerie, Joanne too had noticed the smears of colorful paint on Matt's face and hands. Stealing her resolve, Joanne mounted the last step and rapped lightly on the door. She heard some shuffling on the other side before it opened, revealing a shirtless Matt, who guarded the small opening with his body.

Joanne regarded him, and the smeared black handprint on his chest curiously, just as Matt found her presence knocking at Jacob's door curious.

"I was heading back to the hospital and wanted to see if you would come," Joanne asked, trying to sound neutral. Matt appeared to think about the suggestion, before he shook his head no. Joanne frowned slightly at Matt's dogged persistence. "Valerie is worried about you," she said. Again, Matt thought about what Joanne was saying, appearing as if a struggle was playing out in his mind as he fought with himself on how best to let them know he was all right.

"You can tell her I'm not hiding," Matt offered as he opened the bedroom door wider, inviting Joanne in.

"Then what are you doing up..." Joanne said stepping into Jacob's room, her words ending as she noticed an overhead projector sitting on the floor surrounded by a jumble of transparencies that had sketches drawn on them. Befuddled by this development Joanne turned and was stunned by what she saw. "Oh my," she gasped, her hand clutching at her chest.

Matt looked down, studying his feet and the abandoned test sketch there. "I know I should've asked if it was okay, but..."

Joanne didn't give him a chance to finish as she gathered his head in her grasp and pulled him to her. "It's beautiful," she whispered rocking him gently.

"He wanted me to paint his wall," Matt continued, speaking into Joanne chest.

"Are you sure you won't come with me?" Joanne asked, squeezing Matt just a little more as his hands wrapped around her waist.

There was nothing Matt wanted more than to see Jacob again; he just didn't want the version of Jacob he knew he would find. The broken Jacob hooked up to machines with a tangle of wires and tubes, the one he wouldn't be able to touch for fear of causing more pain. Matt didn't like thinking of himself shrinking off into the corner of the room useless.

"I can't," he whispered, ashamed of the words as they left his mouth.

Joanne didn't argue with him, didn't want to know his reasons. The agony in his voice told her that he wanted to, but couldn't. There was something holding him back that, for better or worse, he was unwilling to face. She didn't fault him for whatever demon held him hostage; Joanne liked seeing Jacob in a hospital bed little more than Matt did. However, she had to be there, had to be there for when he woke up after surgery. She listened, as the first thing Jacob asked about after they removed him from the respirator last night was Matt. Instead, she nodded, squeezing him just a little tighter again.

"In your own time," she whispered. "Just remember, he'll be waiting, alright?" she asked pushing Matt out of the hug to appraise him at an arm's length. Matt nodded as he rubbed the side of his face. Joanne offered him a light reassuring smile as she pulled the side of his head to her lips, giving him a quick kiss before ruffling his hair and leaving him to work on his mural.

Back downstairs, Valerie sat on the couch, her arms crossed over her chest, and her mood as sour as ever. Hearing Joanne walking down the stairs, Valerie turned her attention from the powered off TV to Joanne. Her eyes narrowed. Valerie wanted to be angry; angry was far better than vulnerable she figured. She just couldn't be as angry as she wanted to be, with a stranger sure, her indignation knew no bounds, but with Matt, with Matt there were imposed limits on her stubbornness.

"He won't go?" she asked, hurt, not understanding Matt for the first time.

Viola sighed. "He's going to be okay Hun, he just needs the space to realize it," Viola offered as she gathered her purse and car keys. She paused a moment watching Valerie who was too busy eyeing the staircase to pay much attention to her, "Do you want to go to the hospital with me?" she asked out of courtesy.

The question jarred Valerie's attention back to Joanne. "No," Valerie answered pleasantly enough as she stood and walked with Joanne out to her car.

Watching Joanne drive down the street, Valerie dug into the pocket of the tight shorts she was wearing, fishing out her cell phone. It only took a moment to scroll through the phone book, she could have just as easily typed the number in, and hitting send, she raised the phone to her ear.

The room didn't smell like Jacob any longer, Matt figured as he sat on the bed, his eyes moving from his mess scattered about the floor to the half-finished mural filling Jacob's wall. The pillows still held faint traces of the scent, and that's why Matt kept them safely stashed in the closet, away from the acrid tang of oils and acrylic. He hadn't finished anything since Joanne had talked with him, or what little of her short visit that qualified as a talk. He was too busy thinking about Jacob, moreover, thinking about touching Jacob, even if it was just holding his hand. Matt could settle for that small prize. He wanted to full on hug him, but the simple pleasure of holding Jacob's hand would suffice, he figured.

Now all he had to do was swallow his pride and ask the girl on the other side of the door to drive him to the hospital. Valerie was sitting just outside the door, more than likely with her back pressed against the slab of wood, waiting as patiently as a saint; at least as close to canonization as Valerie would ever get. Standing, Matt moved from the bed and with a trembling hand he reached out for the door knob. Twisting the latch free, Matt opened the door. His eyes widened in surprise; it wasn't Valerie that was sitting outside Jacob's door, or any other person Matt expected to see in Jacob's hallway.

Dan looked up at Matt from the seat he had taken on the hard, cherry planked floor. He didn't know what to say to Matt, didn't know what Valerie expected him to say. He just knew that she had pleaded with him to talk to Matt; that was how Daniel King found himself sitting on the floor in the Keats' residence, trying to figure out what to say to resolve a problem which he knew nothing about.

"Hey kiddo," Dan said scrambling to his feet. Matt watched Dan carefully, unsure what to make of his presence. "Valerie asked me to talk to you," Dan quickly added, reading Matt's face, "I think she's afraid you may be depressed or..." Dan stopped talking, realizing he didn't exactly know why Valerie wanted him to talk to Matt.

Matt smiled, seeing the way Dan's shoulders dropped in defeat, finding the way the man would try to do anything his daughter asked of him amusing.

"You have no idea what this is all about do you?" Matt questioned.

"That obvious?" Dan countered. Matt didn't need to think about the question as he nodded in an answer. "I know it has something to do with Jacob, but just what, I don't know."

"You think he and Valerie are still a couple?" Matt further asked as he stared at the closest thing to a father he'd ever had.

"I don't know," Dan sighed, looking defeated that he could have been wrong about that. "She seems to be more worried about you right now, than she does Jacob."

Matt chuckled lightly at Dan's statement, he knew it was typical Valerie, and very true. Averting his gaze from Dan's just long enough mustered whatever he could to stop the tremors of fear he felt racing up his spine, before looking into Dan's eyes, Matt straightened himself from the casual lean he had taken up on the door in Dan's presence.

Sucking in a breath of air, Matt whispered, "I want to show you something."

Dan watched as Matt backed away from the entrance of the door and led the way into the disheveled room. He had to admit, he was a tad hesitant to enter seeing the floor littered with papers and crumpled drop cloths, but he did, his eyes watching Matt as he sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wall he was working on.

Matt sat silently as Dan's gaze followed his. A slight gasp escaped Dan's lips as his eyes widened to take in the mural composed of several little vignettes. The scenes played out across the wall like a comic book, or an improvised storyboard, though no borders separated them. The smaller images, instead, bleeding into one another as the story progressed across the wall.

In the upper right hand corner of the wall was an imposing Dragon stretched across two scenes. In the first the dragon's claw grasped chains that led to collars on a male figure and a female figure, while its tail curled around a glowing red heart. The dragon's fiery breath moved across into the next scene providing a band of orange clouds in an image centered on a grinning caricature that bore striking resemblance to Jacob, his face smeared with cake. The following scene contained the female prisoner, though this time she stood alone, the manacle around her neck ending in a chain with a broken link as she held a rose with a barbed wire stem in her hand.

There was an image of the Jacob caricature punching another guy in the face while the female captive stood on the sidelines in a stylized cheer pose, replete with pom-poms and a cheerleader outfit with the barbed-wire rose on the front. The following image was two pairs of legs surrounded by blue water and black lines representing ripples.

"What is this?" Dan asked speechless, as his eyes wandered across the next image, a stylized version of Matt and Jacob's first kiss complete with tattered boxers.

"Our story," Matt answered in awe of the mural himself. "Jacob's, and mine."

Dan didn't answer, as his eyes moved through the story. There was Jacob punching the locker, a disgruntled looking woman with fiery, red hair snickering in the background as the cheerleader pushed the two figures, who Dan now knew were Matt and Jacob, together. Another image had yet another caricature in the background staring at Jacob, a series of little pink hearts floating up from his head. A yellow post-it note took up almost one frame, which contained black lettering that read 'come up'. Dan wasn't sure he wanted to know about the meaning of that image.

The next few images of the collage weren't colored in yet, but there was a scene of Matt and Jacob dancing. The cheerleader, whom it had taken Dan this long to figure out was Valerie, seated behind the wheel of a Mustang. Interspersed through all these different snapshots of Jacob and Matt's relationship were images of the Jacob caricature battling with the fierce dragon.

The last several scenes, which were colored, consisted of Jacob astride his Yamaha, racing towards the dragon in one final all, or nothing. The next was a scene filled with an orange and yellow explosion, the silhouette of the Jacob caricature walking from the flames, a little red heart in his hand. It all ended with Jacob, now wearing a firefighter's jacket, kissing Matt as he clutched the glowing red heart.

Dan staggered back into a seat on the bed next to Matt. "There's so much to take in,"

Matt nodded; the last several months had held many things to take in. A bevy of firsts; first time he had ever skinny-dipped, first kisses, and his first sexual experience with another person. The first time he learned love was an entirely different emotion from a fleeting crush.

"Yeah," Matt nodded absently as each picture brought back the memory of its day.

"What's that one?" Dan asked pointing to the yet to be colored line drawing of Jacob cowering on the floor while Matt, with his shorts around his ankles, stood yelling at a mean looking representation of his father. Appropriately, Matt had chosen to leave the shirt in the picture longer, and more concealing, than the one he had actually been wearing that day.

"Oh," Matt said blushing and looking away. "That was the day my father attacked Jacob."

"What?" Dan bellowed. "No offense, Kiddo," Dan sighed, "your father was always kind of an ass, even when we where in high school together."

"I know," Matt responded with a sorry shrug. "He even had someone look into Jacob's past."

Dan shook his head, grasping onto Matt's shoulder and pulling him into a light hug. He never envied Matt's home situation, and sometimes blamed himself for not remedying it sooner. He'd even talked to his wife, Kitty, on a couple of nights spent listening to Richard complain about his worthless son, asked her if she would mind if Matt moved in with them. For all the agreeing the two shared as to how it would be in Matt's best interest, the subject was forgotten by the next morning. As bad as Dan imagined Matt's home life, the reality had to be worse, and if some of these images where true, it was.

The silence as Dan pondered what he could have done differently put Matt on edge. He wondered if he was okay with it, or if he harbored feelings more inline with his father's. Matt wanted it to be the former; he didn't know if he could deal with loosing another father figure.

"Dad," he eked out in a meek whisper pulling Dan's attention from his own thoughts.

"Yeah?" Dan asked turning to look Matt in the eye.

"Are you okay with this?" Matt asked, fearful of the answer.

"It's amazing," Dan said, his answer distant as he was absorbed in his own thoughts and the images playing out across Jacob's wall.

Matt's shoulders slumped, beaten. "Not that," he mumbled looking at the paint splotched drop cloth. "Jacob and..." his words trailed off.

The decaying sound of defeat, the silent cry in Matt's voice, ripped Dan from his own thoughts and the vibrant mural. Looking at Matt, it all came flooding back; the conversation answering questions about love with Valerie, the way she smiled that night as if he would never get just what she was fishing for, the fumbled hurt look in Matt's eyes the day he asked Matt if Jacob and Valerie were anything more than friends. Even the way Jacob looked in Matt and Valerie's direction when he thought no one else is the shop was paying any attention to him.

"That's," Dan answered squaring his shoulders, "pretty damn amazing, too." Matt jerked his head to stare at Dan. "Why didn't you tell me before?" Matt turned away, a knee jerk reaction that he fought against as he turned to face Dan, looking him in the eyes as he answered.

"I was..." Matt answered as honestly as he could. "My father, I expected his reaction. You, I didn't know what to expect, and I don't think I could have handled rejection from you. You've always been..." Matt trailed off, loosing the words in a choke of emotion.

Dan listened to what Matt said, and more importantly, what he hadn't. Never in his life had any words made him feel both unbeatable pride and languished shame. Pride to have someone as talented and good as Matt think of him as a dad, shame for not being able to convey that Matt could come to him with anything without fear of rejection. Also, a tinge of remorse crept into his feelings at the moment, as he found himself mourning the possibility of Matt ever being the father of his grandchildren.

"Two people in love," Dan spoke up, giving Matt the same respect Matt had shown him, "is a beautiful thing, doesn't matter if it two women, two men, or a man and a woman. I'd never think any less of you for finding the other person in this world that made you happy, Kiddo," Dan answered, palming Matt's shoulder and squeezing. "And," he continued his eyes boring into Matt's, "the only man who can stand in the way of love, is the self."

Matt nodded as he digested the words, 'the self': Matt's preverbal dragon. With that answer, Matt understood that even though he was far more comfortable under a hood, than reading a master work of literature and debating its points, Dan was the wisest man he had ever known.

"Dad," Matt said as Dan stood, figuring what Valerie wanted had been discovered.

"Yeah?" he asked looking down at Matt, who for all the learning and growing he had gone through over the past year still looked every bit the scared and vulnerable child.

"Could you drive me to the hospital?" Matt asked, knowing the question sounded absurd, he could easily drive himself. Dan didn't find the question one bit absurd, instead, he just extended his hand to help Matt from his seat on the bed.

Matt didn't like hospitals, he never had. From a young age, he learned to associate their sterile smell with the stale breath of death. Liking them or not, he was walking across the ICU floor, looking for room 3312. Dan stayed four paces back ready to give Matt all the room in the world he needed. Matt stopped, reading and rereading the grey-plastic sign that read '3312' in embossed block numerals, trailed by the same number in brail. Swallowing, Matt stepped towards the window, seeing Jacob for the first time in days. The sight was just as he had feared; Jacob's right arm and leg both in casts, held aloft in traction.

His eyes trembled as he appraised the damaged Jacob; the machines monitoring his heart and blood pressure' the IV steadily dripping. Matt shook his head, placing his hand on the chicken-wire threaded security glass. He looked at Dan quickly shaking his head, telling him silently that he couldn't go in there. Dan uncrossed his arms and closed the gap he had intentionally left between Matt and himself. He took a moment to look at Jacob through the window before he leaned in to Matt.

"You've come this far," Dan whispered, his palm cupping Matt's shoulder and squeezing gently, trying to convey strength through the touch. "Conquer your dragon."

Matt steeled his resolve in Dan's courageous eyes, sucking in and holding a breath, Matt gave Dan a firm nod as the man backed away giving him room. Matt crept through the door, inhaling again, aching in the fact that the expected smell was absent. Matt eased through the room pausing only once to maneuver a chair to the bedside. He traced the tips of his fingers along Jacob's curled hand as he took a seat and leaned in, placing his head with careful ease on Jacob's bandaged chest. There it was; Matt exhaled, releasing the breath he tightly held as he listed to the strong, yet muffled, heartbeat, luxuriating in the breath sounds he could hear move through his makeshift pillow of Jacob's bandaged chest.

A dull pain throbbing through his chest pulled Jacob out of his dream of lying with Matt. The discomfort wasn't anything too out of the ordinary, and far preferable to some of the sharper pains he had been feeling in his leg. What did have him worried was the pressure he felt, coupled with the pain. Opening his eyes and peering down at his chest, a slow smile crossed Jacob's lips as the sight of Matt met his gaze. Jacob gingerly lifted his hand, grazing his fingers through Matt's hair.

"Hey, Kid," Jacob said in a gravelly whisper as he curled his palm around Matt's face, cupping his cheek. Matt looked up, his eyes red and watering, belying the pure bliss he felt deep in his chest.

"I love you," Matt answered without hesitation as he seized Jacob's hand, pulling it to his lips and kissing Jacob's fingers softly.

"I know," Jacob replied, giving Matt's hand a gentle squeeze.

Matt nodded, even smiled, understanding, and for once unashamed, of the tears so deliberately falling from his eyes.

Dan stood watching Matt and Jacob interact through the glass partition with a content smile on his face, hoping that someday, Valerie would be able to find someone as crazy for her, as those two appeared to be for each other. It could have been the satisfied smile, or the way Dan just stood there watching one of the patients through the window, that caught the Duty Nurse's attention. Curiosity got the better of her as she peeked around him and saw a young man with his head lying on her patient's chest.

"He's not supposed to be in there," she rambled in a rush, not recognizing the young man as one of Jacob's frequent visitors.

Dan turned an annoyed eye on the healthcare worker. "I'd like to see you go in there and tell either of them he has to leave," he smirked.

"Family only," she pecked in response to Dan's challenge, advancing on the door.

"Woman, open your God-damned eyes," Dan said in gruff exasperation. "Those two are family."