Game Changer - Chapter 31/35
Category: Slash - Dan (Ashcroft) & Jones
Rating: T
Summary: Dan and Jones are both struggling to cope with his deteriorating health
Warnings: angst, blood mention
Word count: 3445
Dan stares at the screen of the laptop in front of him, his eyes squinting against the blinding brightness of it in the dark room. His long fingers punch the keys clumsily. He’s still not used to the feel of the new smaller, flatter keyboard and moving the curser with a small button in the centre.
“…the type of situation people tend to describe as surreal,” he mutters to himself quietly as he types the words. “When in fact the feeling is the exact opposite. The reality of it is what hits you in the face. Because reality is insufferable; it’s pain. So when the mundanity of living everyday life, numbed of thought and feeling because that’s how we survive, is ripped and pulled away, it’s not surrealism that suffocates you; it’s reality.”
“I still can’t believe you’re actually writing this,” Claire says quietly as she sits down beside him with a cup of tea.
“Neither can I,” he says, shifting uncomfortably as she peers over his words.
“I mean, it’s good,” she says encouragingly. “At least it sounds really good. I just never could’ve imagined you doing something this personal.”
“Thanks?” he replies, not sure if it was meant as a compliment or not.
“Yeah, I’m proud of you, actually,” she says with half a smile. “I wish I’d thought of it.”
“What do you mean?” Dan asks.
“For my documentary,” she says with a slight blush. “It would’ve made really good material, I never thought of it though.”
“You mean like, filming me and Jones?”
“Yeah, why not?” Claire shrugs.
“Doing what?” he asks, frowning.
“I don’t know, just stuff at the hospital. Helping feed him and playing cards,” she shrugs again, making a vague hand gesture before taking another sip of tea. “Not much use now though, he’s always asleep.”
“He’s not always asleep,” Dan murmurs. “Anyway, he wouldn’t have gone for it either way, so don’t worry about it.”
“Why not?” she asks, furrowing her brow.
“Well would you want to be filmed if you were sick, doctors poking and prodding at you?” he snorts derisively.
“Whatever,” she says with a roll of her eyes.
There’s a metallic jingle from the other side of the front door and a few seconds later it swings open. Ennis steps into the room, his dark hair damp with rain and curlier than it usually is. He brushes wet strands off his forehead, squinting across the dim room and waves at them both with a smile.
“Ennis, do you want me to make you a cup of tea?” Claire asks, getting to her feet. “I didn’t realize it was raining that hard, you must be cold.”
“Thanks sweetheart,” he replies, kissing her as he hangs his sodden coat. “That sounds wonderful.”
“What happened to your umbrella?” Claire asks, running a hand through his dripping hair. “Did you forget it in the back of an Uber or something? Cos I’ve done that.”
“No, I didn’t. You know that homeless gent who’s usually outside the bank?” he asks and Claire nods. He shrugs, “I gave it to him.”
There’s a momentary pause in which Claire gapes at him and he smiles shyly down at the floor.
“I love you so much,” she breathes and then her arms are around his shoulders and he holds her by the waist as she pushes herself onto her toes to kiss him.
Dan turns back to his computer and stares at the screen despite his inability to focus on anything but the two forms in his peripheral vision. The usual awkwardness and discomfort he feels is suddenly interrupted by a flash of an entirely different emotion. Jealousy. He tries to convince himself that the abrupt moisture in his eyes is a result of the bright light of the screen, but the heartache and yearning for Jones is impossible to ignore. It feels like he’s been punched in the chest. Dan buries his face in his hands and bites the inside of his cheek hard.
“I’ll, um, get you that tea,” Claire says with a blush and clears her throat. “One sugar or two?”
“Two please,” Ennis replies. “Can I join you Dan?”
He swallows and takes a deep breath through his nose, trying to clear the lump that’s settled in his throat.
“Sure,” he says with a forced smile. “Of course.”
Ennis crosses the room and sits down in the couch opposite Dan, folding his hands in his lap. Claire brings a tea for Dan over as well when the water boils and sits on the couch next to Ennis. He stares at the laptop screen for another few minutes as the three of them sip their tea, but his brain doesn’t seem to be able to conjure up a single word. Dan shuts the computer with a sigh and tunes in to the conversation he barely noticed had started.
“And so he asked if I had my own camera to shoot with,” Claire continues excitedly. “And I told him I did so he said we could meet over lunch tomorrow to talk more about it.”
“That’s fantastic darling,” Ennis exclaims.
“What’s this?” Dan asks and they both turn.
“Red nose day,” says Claire. “I might get to do some filming and stuff this year. Like, professional stuff.”
“Wow,” Dan remarks, raising his eyebrows. “Good for you.”
“Thanks,” she gushes. “I mean, getting in with the BBC, that’s- not that it’s my plan long term, but that’s an amazing contact to have. You can meet anyone, really.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Dan says. “That’s- wow, that’s great Claire. Congratulations.”
She beams between them and Ennis plants a kiss on her cheek. Claire blushes and averts her gaze, taking a sip of tea shyly. Dan turns around on the couch and lifts the corner of one curtain to look outside. The rain’s turned to a kind of wet snow and the pavements are covered in the brown-grey slush that he hopes will be gone by morning.
About a half hour later, Claire and Ennis head out to go to Ennis’s place, bidding Dan a goodnight. He feels a bit guilty for not having known about what’s going on in Claire’s life. It’s a really big deal for her and he wouldn’t have even known, he’s so focussed on Jones. And he knows Claire doesn’t blame him or anything, but he still feels bad for having such a one-track mind. Dan closes the laptop again with a heavy sigh and snuggles into the couch that used to be Jones’s, his stomach uneasy and his throat feeling tight. The other man’s scent still lingers and Dan breathes it in deeply, his nose pressed to the worn upholstery. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to will his body to sleep and insisting to himself that the tears that run down his cheeks and trickle along the bridge of his nose are just the product of overtiredness.
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“Jones,” he whispers as he slowly lowers himself into the chair beside the bed.
His chest rises and falls steadily beneath the thin hospital bedding, his lips parted as he takes long, deep breaths. His too long hair looks practically undisturbed framing his face and his long lashes flutter now and then, but his eyes remain shut for almost an hour.
“Dan?” a groggy voice says softly and his head snaps up.
“Hey Jones,” Dan smiles. “Good morning.”
He squints at him drowsily and yawns. Jones reaches up a hand to cover his mouth and his eyes open again, his brow furrowing as he looks at the IV. Dan shifts forward and places a hand on his thigh to try and calm him, but it doesn’t help much.
“What the-?” he starts, his eyes going wide and his head whips left and right, taking in the room. “What is this? Where am I? Dan?”
“We’re in the hospital, Jones,” he tries to explain. “Remember?”
“What’s happened?” he asks frantically, pushing himself up in the bed. “What day is it? How long have I been here?”
“It’s okay Jones, you’re okay,” Dan assures him, squeezing his thigh beneath the sheets. “It’s the third of March. You’re here because of your liver, remember? You’re alright, I’m right here.”
Jones sits still, his chest heaving a bit as he tries to make sense of everything Dan’s telling him. He frowns down into his lap, puzzled, for a few moments before his face starts to soften. He begins to nod slowly, running a finger over the IV in the back of his hand absentmindedly.
“Right,” he says slowly and Dan releases the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “The hospital.”
“Do you remember, Jones?” Dan asks hesitantly.
“I think so,” he says, still nodding. “Yeah, I remember being in the hospital. I need a new liver?”
“Yep, that’s right,” Dan sighs with relief.
“You’re giving me yours?” he asks uncertainly.
“A piece of it,” Dan nods. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” he says, still a little unsure.
“You okay?” asks Dan.
“Yeah, I’m… I’m alright,” Jones concedes.
“Come here,” he says and Jones allows Dan to wrap his arms around him, nuzzling into his neck as he holds him.
“I love you,” he whispers into Jones’s ear.
“I love you too Dan,” Jones whispers back, his eyes closed.
“We’re going to do a bit of a… erm, exercise today, ok Jones?”
“What do you mean?” Jones asks, nervousness creeping back into his voice. “Like a test?”
“A bit like a test, but don’t worry,” he comforts him, rubbing his back in circles. “It’s not going to be hard, okay? It’ll be fun, it’s just drawing and stuff.”
“Drawing?” Jones asks sceptically. “But, what about my hands?”
“That’s what they’re testing,” he says soothingly. “Well, partly anyway. Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal.”
“Drawing what?” Jones continues worriedly.
“Lines, dots, circles,” he shrugs. “I’m not sure exactly, but it’s just simple stuff, you’ll be all right.”
“Hello Jones,” says Lynn’s voice. “We’re awake and up, then?”
“Yeah,” Jones murmurs. “I guess.”
“I was just telling him about the tests,” says Dan.
“Ahh,” she remarks. “So, how about it Jones? Shall we get them done then?”
“I guess,” he mumbles.
“You can do this,” Dan assures him quietly.
“Shall I get you a pencil then, hon?” she asks and Jones nods shyly.
“Crayon won’t work?” Dan asks.
“What crayon?” Jones frowns in confusion.
“Nevermind,” mumbles Dan.
“Okay, here you go,” Lynn says as she pulls the wrap-around table towards him, laying sheets of paper out in front of him and pulling a pencil out of the pocket of her scrubs. She presses the button to raise the head of his bed, “That good?”
“Yeah, fine,” he mutters.
“Okay, Jones, so this first one is pretty straight forward, all you have to do is draw lines to connect to numbers in order, okay?” she explains.
“Okay,” he practically whispers.
“So just start with number one, and finish at number twenty three.”
His hands tremble a bit as he drags the pencil across the paper, connecting the circled numbers, and Dan studies his face. Jones’s brow is knit in concentration, but Dan can tell when he gets frustrated at not being able to control his hands the way he’s trying to. He gets stuck at the number eleven for a long moment, his eyes darting between twelve and thirteen, but he figures it out and continues.
“Now this one here is kind of the same concept, but a little bit different,” Lynn instructs. “What you’re going to do is alternate connecting each letter, in order, to each number from one to thirteen. So you’ll draw a line from the number one to the letter A and then continue from A to the number two, two to the letter B, B to the number three and so on. Do you understand?”
“I- I think so,” Jones says slowly.
“Okay just start whenever you’re ready,” she encourages him.
“One to A,” he says under his breath as he starts to connect the circles. “Then A to two, to B to three, and then C. C to D- no C to… C, D- no.”
He looks up at Dan in a silent plea for help and Dan feels a pang in his chest. He glances at Lynn, who’s staring her watch to record Jones’s time, but she shakes her head knowingly. Dan bites his lip.
“It’s okay,” he grimaces. “Just take a deep breath and keep going. You’re doing great.”
Jones follows Dan’s advice and takes a shaky breath, turning his attention back to the paper. “C to… C to… four? C to four to D, D to five, to E, um, F er, what am I at?”
It takes him significantly longer to do the second test, often times making mistakes that confuse him even more. He's ended up skipping the number six, reversing the order of H and I, and needs to be calmed down when he can’t remember which of twelve and thirteen come first again.
“How many more of these are there?” he whines.
“Three,” Lynn says frankly. “Let’s do another one, alright? This one will only take ninety seconds.”
“Promise?” he asks glumly.
“I promise,” she smiles gently. “It’s a timed test, duck.”
“Fine,” he sighs, picking up the pencil again.
“There’s a good lad,” she declares. “So this here is like a little legend, and each symbol corresponds to a different number. And then here you’ve got a row of boxes where each empty box has a number that goes with it. So what you’ve got to is use the legend to fill in the boxes based on the number, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” he says, concentrating on the paper in front of him.
“You got all that?” Lynn asks.
“I think so,” Jones replies. “Can I start?”
“Yes, go ahead dear.”
He starts to fill in the boxes as best he can with the various symbols, his blue eyes darting up and down over the page. His tongue pokes out from between his lips at the corner of his mouth and his left hand is splayed out across the page to keep it still. Jones seems to be having an even harder time controlling the pencil to create the more intricate signs and symbols.
“Couldn’t they have made the boxes a bit bigger,” he grumbles.
“It’s alright, you’re doing great,” Dan tries to encourage him. “Keep going.”
“I can’t,” he blurts. “It’s too hard!”
“Yes you can, Jones,” Dan insists. “You’re halfway there.”
“Nothing looks right!” he exclaims in frustration. “It’s all a mess! The lines are wobbly and all over the place!”
“You could try doing it a different way,” Dan offers uncertainly. “You could pick a number and find all of that number to fill in instead of going in order and doing a different symbol each time.”
“Could I?” he asks Lynn, who’s been kind enough to pause his time.
“Sure, if that works for you hon,” she nods.
Jones goes back to the worksheet, concentration written across his face, and begins filling in all the boxes marked with a number two. It seems a bit easier for him that way, focussing on the one, simpler, symbol. He bends over the page, his face just centimetres from the waggling end of the pencil. He finishes the number twos and moves onto the next easiest symbol in the legend. There are scattered blank squares throughout the rows of boxes as he moves on to the next number.
“And, time’s up,” Lynn says with a smile. “You’re all done.”
“But I’ve not finished,” he frowns and as she reaches to take the page from him, his hand slams down on top of it. “I’ve still got five more numbers to finish.”
“I know, dear, but the test is to see how many you can do in ninety seconds,” she explains calmly. “So it’s okay if you’re not finished.”
“No it’s not!” he protests, holding down the paper even harder as Lynn tries to pick it up again.
“Jones, you need to give me the test paper,” she says firmly, not letting go.
“No, I’m not done!” he exclaims angrily. “I need to finish the rest of the numbers!”
“Jones, it’s okay,” Dan tries to sooth him as he places a hand just above his knee, but Jones pulls his leg away.
“No!” he shouts.
“How about this- Jones, look at me,” Lynn says softly, taking a step closer to him. “Listen to me, how about you give the sheet to me to count and then I’ll give it back after so you can finish it up? How does that sound?”
“No!” he cries again, his pitch increasing as his breath gets heavier. “You can’t count it! I’m not done! It’s not hard, it’s not supposed to be hard! You told me they weren’t going to be hard!”
“Jones, I- I’m sorry-” Dan sputters.
“I need to finish it! I’m not stupid! I’m not!” he continues to wail. “NO! I can’t even do this dumb test and it’s not hard! I can’t do anything! Please! Please let me finish!”
“Jones!” Dan exclaims and grabs his arm firmly. “Hey. Calm down. Take a deep breath.”
His hands ball into fists as his chest heaves and he lets out a scream through barred teeth. Dan squeezes his arm harder, pulling himself farther into the bed and laying his left hand on Jones’s thigh. Jones grips the pencil in both hands and Lynn snatches up the paper quickly.
“AAH!” he shouts again and snaps the pencil in two, throwing both halves in opposite directions.
His shaking hands find their way to each side of his head and he punches himself in the temple before grabbing fistfuls of his own hair and pulling. Dan tries to pull his hands away, but Jones won’t let go and he can’t get them away without pulling his hair more. He lets go of him, not knowing what to do and turns to Lynn for some kind of guidance, but she’s got her back to them both as she dials a number into the nurses’ phone.
Without warning, Jones leans forward fast, smacking his head down against the folding table. It collides with a bang and the surface rattles as he draws himself up and brings his face crashing down again. Dan lets out a cry of mingles shock and horror as Jones straightens up again, but before he can plunge back down, Dan lunges forward on his knees and pins both his shoulders back against the pillows. Jones’s hands are still tangled in his hair as Dan holds him still and suddenly Lynn is by their side again, folding away the table by the bedside. With it out of the way, Dan loosens his grip on Jones’s shoulders and he instead flings himself into Dan’s chest.
Dan wraps his arms around him tightly, clutching his head to his chest as he grits his teeth and shrieks again, his chest heaving with frustrated sobs. Dan holds his with an iron grip, not letting him move a single centimetre as they ride out the fit together. Jones’s hands eventually release his hair and flop down at his sides. Two more nurses show up and one gives him some kind of sedative through his IV. When Dan doesn’t let go or show any signs of moving, Lynn ushers them out again and closes the door.
“How is he?” she asks quietly, pretending not to notice Dan’s tears.
“He’s asleep,” he finally whispers back, and his grip begins to slacken.
“Thank you, Dan-”
“Don’t,” he says, running his fingers through Jones’s hair. His stomach turns when he sees the number of hairs he takes with them, “He’s mine. I won’t ever stop protecting him. Even if it’s from himself.”
He slowly leans forward in the bed, lowering Jones down against the pillows. When he pulls back he notices that Jones’s nose is bloody, as well as the front of his shirt and curses under his breath. Before he can even look up; however, Lynn’s dabbing at his upper lip with some wet cotton wool. Dan slides out of the bed, his joints stiff, and sinks back into the chair slowly.
“Don’t worry,” Lynn whispers. “It’s not broken, just a little bloody. Can I get you something for your shirt-?”
Dan raises a hand to silence her and shakes his head. He strokes Jones’s cheek with the pad of his thumb and there’s silence in the room for a few more minutes before he summons up the courage to speak.
“So,” he says monotonously. “He’s got it, hasn’t he?”
Chapter 32
Rating: T
Summary: Dan and Jones are both struggling to cope with his deteriorating health
Warnings: angst, blood mention
Word count: 3445
Dan stares at the screen of the laptop in front of him, his eyes squinting against the blinding brightness of it in the dark room. His long fingers punch the keys clumsily. He’s still not used to the feel of the new smaller, flatter keyboard and moving the curser with a small button in the centre.
“…the type of situation people tend to describe as surreal,” he mutters to himself quietly as he types the words. “When in fact the feeling is the exact opposite. The reality of it is what hits you in the face. Because reality is insufferable; it’s pain. So when the mundanity of living everyday life, numbed of thought and feeling because that’s how we survive, is ripped and pulled away, it’s not surrealism that suffocates you; it’s reality.”
“I still can’t believe you’re actually writing this,” Claire says quietly as she sits down beside him with a cup of tea.
“Neither can I,” he says, shifting uncomfortably as she peers over his words.
“I mean, it’s good,” she says encouragingly. “At least it sounds really good. I just never could’ve imagined you doing something this personal.”
“Thanks?” he replies, not sure if it was meant as a compliment or not.
“Yeah, I’m proud of you, actually,” she says with half a smile. “I wish I’d thought of it.”
“What do you mean?” Dan asks.
“For my documentary,” she says with a slight blush. “It would’ve made really good material, I never thought of it though.”
“You mean like, filming me and Jones?”
“Yeah, why not?” Claire shrugs.
“Doing what?” he asks, frowning.
“I don’t know, just stuff at the hospital. Helping feed him and playing cards,” she shrugs again, making a vague hand gesture before taking another sip of tea. “Not much use now though, he’s always asleep.”
“He’s not always asleep,” Dan murmurs. “Anyway, he wouldn’t have gone for it either way, so don’t worry about it.”
“Why not?” she asks, furrowing her brow.
“Well would you want to be filmed if you were sick, doctors poking and prodding at you?” he snorts derisively.
“Whatever,” she says with a roll of her eyes.
There’s a metallic jingle from the other side of the front door and a few seconds later it swings open. Ennis steps into the room, his dark hair damp with rain and curlier than it usually is. He brushes wet strands off his forehead, squinting across the dim room and waves at them both with a smile.
“Ennis, do you want me to make you a cup of tea?” Claire asks, getting to her feet. “I didn’t realize it was raining that hard, you must be cold.”
“Thanks sweetheart,” he replies, kissing her as he hangs his sodden coat. “That sounds wonderful.”
“What happened to your umbrella?” Claire asks, running a hand through his dripping hair. “Did you forget it in the back of an Uber or something? Cos I’ve done that.”
“No, I didn’t. You know that homeless gent who’s usually outside the bank?” he asks and Claire nods. He shrugs, “I gave it to him.”
There’s a momentary pause in which Claire gapes at him and he smiles shyly down at the floor.
“I love you so much,” she breathes and then her arms are around his shoulders and he holds her by the waist as she pushes herself onto her toes to kiss him.
Dan turns back to his computer and stares at the screen despite his inability to focus on anything but the two forms in his peripheral vision. The usual awkwardness and discomfort he feels is suddenly interrupted by a flash of an entirely different emotion. Jealousy. He tries to convince himself that the abrupt moisture in his eyes is a result of the bright light of the screen, but the heartache and yearning for Jones is impossible to ignore. It feels like he’s been punched in the chest. Dan buries his face in his hands and bites the inside of his cheek hard.
“I’ll, um, get you that tea,” Claire says with a blush and clears her throat. “One sugar or two?”
“Two please,” Ennis replies. “Can I join you Dan?”
He swallows and takes a deep breath through his nose, trying to clear the lump that’s settled in his throat.
“Sure,” he says with a forced smile. “Of course.”
Ennis crosses the room and sits down in the couch opposite Dan, folding his hands in his lap. Claire brings a tea for Dan over as well when the water boils and sits on the couch next to Ennis. He stares at the laptop screen for another few minutes as the three of them sip their tea, but his brain doesn’t seem to be able to conjure up a single word. Dan shuts the computer with a sigh and tunes in to the conversation he barely noticed had started.
“And so he asked if I had my own camera to shoot with,” Claire continues excitedly. “And I told him I did so he said we could meet over lunch tomorrow to talk more about it.”
“That’s fantastic darling,” Ennis exclaims.
“What’s this?” Dan asks and they both turn.
“Red nose day,” says Claire. “I might get to do some filming and stuff this year. Like, professional stuff.”
“Wow,” Dan remarks, raising his eyebrows. “Good for you.”
“Thanks,” she gushes. “I mean, getting in with the BBC, that’s- not that it’s my plan long term, but that’s an amazing contact to have. You can meet anyone, really.”
“Yeah, exactly,” Dan says. “That’s- wow, that’s great Claire. Congratulations.”
She beams between them and Ennis plants a kiss on her cheek. Claire blushes and averts her gaze, taking a sip of tea shyly. Dan turns around on the couch and lifts the corner of one curtain to look outside. The rain’s turned to a kind of wet snow and the pavements are covered in the brown-grey slush that he hopes will be gone by morning.
About a half hour later, Claire and Ennis head out to go to Ennis’s place, bidding Dan a goodnight. He feels a bit guilty for not having known about what’s going on in Claire’s life. It’s a really big deal for her and he wouldn’t have even known, he’s so focussed on Jones. And he knows Claire doesn’t blame him or anything, but he still feels bad for having such a one-track mind. Dan closes the laptop again with a heavy sigh and snuggles into the couch that used to be Jones’s, his stomach uneasy and his throat feeling tight. The other man’s scent still lingers and Dan breathes it in deeply, his nose pressed to the worn upholstery. He shuts his eyes tight, trying to will his body to sleep and insisting to himself that the tears that run down his cheeks and trickle along the bridge of his nose are just the product of overtiredness.
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“Jones,” he whispers as he slowly lowers himself into the chair beside the bed.
His chest rises and falls steadily beneath the thin hospital bedding, his lips parted as he takes long, deep breaths. His too long hair looks practically undisturbed framing his face and his long lashes flutter now and then, but his eyes remain shut for almost an hour.
“Dan?” a groggy voice says softly and his head snaps up.
“Hey Jones,” Dan smiles. “Good morning.”
He squints at him drowsily and yawns. Jones reaches up a hand to cover his mouth and his eyes open again, his brow furrowing as he looks at the IV. Dan shifts forward and places a hand on his thigh to try and calm him, but it doesn’t help much.
“What the-?” he starts, his eyes going wide and his head whips left and right, taking in the room. “What is this? Where am I? Dan?”
“We’re in the hospital, Jones,” he tries to explain. “Remember?”
“What’s happened?” he asks frantically, pushing himself up in the bed. “What day is it? How long have I been here?”
“It’s okay Jones, you’re okay,” Dan assures him, squeezing his thigh beneath the sheets. “It’s the third of March. You’re here because of your liver, remember? You’re alright, I’m right here.”
Jones sits still, his chest heaving a bit as he tries to make sense of everything Dan’s telling him. He frowns down into his lap, puzzled, for a few moments before his face starts to soften. He begins to nod slowly, running a finger over the IV in the back of his hand absentmindedly.
“Right,” he says slowly and Dan releases the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “The hospital.”
“Do you remember, Jones?” Dan asks hesitantly.
“I think so,” he says, still nodding. “Yeah, I remember being in the hospital. I need a new liver?”
“Yep, that’s right,” Dan sighs with relief.
“You’re giving me yours?” he asks uncertainly.
“A piece of it,” Dan nods. “Yeah.”
“Okay,” he says, still a little unsure.
“You okay?” asks Dan.
“Yeah, I’m… I’m alright,” Jones concedes.
“Come here,” he says and Jones allows Dan to wrap his arms around him, nuzzling into his neck as he holds him.
“I love you,” he whispers into Jones’s ear.
“I love you too Dan,” Jones whispers back, his eyes closed.
“We’re going to do a bit of a… erm, exercise today, ok Jones?”
“What do you mean?” Jones asks, nervousness creeping back into his voice. “Like a test?”
“A bit like a test, but don’t worry,” he comforts him, rubbing his back in circles. “It’s not going to be hard, okay? It’ll be fun, it’s just drawing and stuff.”
“Drawing?” Jones asks sceptically. “But, what about my hands?”
“That’s what they’re testing,” he says soothingly. “Well, partly anyway. Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal.”
“Drawing what?” Jones continues worriedly.
“Lines, dots, circles,” he shrugs. “I’m not sure exactly, but it’s just simple stuff, you’ll be all right.”
“Hello Jones,” says Lynn’s voice. “We’re awake and up, then?”
“Yeah,” Jones murmurs. “I guess.”
“I was just telling him about the tests,” says Dan.
“Ahh,” she remarks. “So, how about it Jones? Shall we get them done then?”
“I guess,” he mumbles.
“You can do this,” Dan assures him quietly.
“Shall I get you a pencil then, hon?” she asks and Jones nods shyly.
“Crayon won’t work?” Dan asks.
“What crayon?” Jones frowns in confusion.
“Nevermind,” mumbles Dan.
“Okay, here you go,” Lynn says as she pulls the wrap-around table towards him, laying sheets of paper out in front of him and pulling a pencil out of the pocket of her scrubs. She presses the button to raise the head of his bed, “That good?”
“Yeah, fine,” he mutters.
“Okay, Jones, so this first one is pretty straight forward, all you have to do is draw lines to connect to numbers in order, okay?” she explains.
“Okay,” he practically whispers.
“So just start with number one, and finish at number twenty three.”
His hands tremble a bit as he drags the pencil across the paper, connecting the circled numbers, and Dan studies his face. Jones’s brow is knit in concentration, but Dan can tell when he gets frustrated at not being able to control his hands the way he’s trying to. He gets stuck at the number eleven for a long moment, his eyes darting between twelve and thirteen, but he figures it out and continues.
“Now this one here is kind of the same concept, but a little bit different,” Lynn instructs. “What you’re going to do is alternate connecting each letter, in order, to each number from one to thirteen. So you’ll draw a line from the number one to the letter A and then continue from A to the number two, two to the letter B, B to the number three and so on. Do you understand?”
“I- I think so,” Jones says slowly.
“Okay just start whenever you’re ready,” she encourages him.
“One to A,” he says under his breath as he starts to connect the circles. “Then A to two, to B to three, and then C. C to D- no C to… C, D- no.”
He looks up at Dan in a silent plea for help and Dan feels a pang in his chest. He glances at Lynn, who’s staring her watch to record Jones’s time, but she shakes her head knowingly. Dan bites his lip.
“It’s okay,” he grimaces. “Just take a deep breath and keep going. You’re doing great.”
Jones follows Dan’s advice and takes a shaky breath, turning his attention back to the paper. “C to… C to… four? C to four to D, D to five, to E, um, F er, what am I at?”
It takes him significantly longer to do the second test, often times making mistakes that confuse him even more. He's ended up skipping the number six, reversing the order of H and I, and needs to be calmed down when he can’t remember which of twelve and thirteen come first again.
“How many more of these are there?” he whines.
“Three,” Lynn says frankly. “Let’s do another one, alright? This one will only take ninety seconds.”
“Promise?” he asks glumly.
“I promise,” she smiles gently. “It’s a timed test, duck.”
“Fine,” he sighs, picking up the pencil again.
“There’s a good lad,” she declares. “So this here is like a little legend, and each symbol corresponds to a different number. And then here you’ve got a row of boxes where each empty box has a number that goes with it. So what you’ve got to is use the legend to fill in the boxes based on the number, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” he says, concentrating on the paper in front of him.
“You got all that?” Lynn asks.
“I think so,” Jones replies. “Can I start?”
“Yes, go ahead dear.”
He starts to fill in the boxes as best he can with the various symbols, his blue eyes darting up and down over the page. His tongue pokes out from between his lips at the corner of his mouth and his left hand is splayed out across the page to keep it still. Jones seems to be having an even harder time controlling the pencil to create the more intricate signs and symbols.
“Couldn’t they have made the boxes a bit bigger,” he grumbles.
“It’s alright, you’re doing great,” Dan tries to encourage him. “Keep going.”
“I can’t,” he blurts. “It’s too hard!”
“Yes you can, Jones,” Dan insists. “You’re halfway there.”
“Nothing looks right!” he exclaims in frustration. “It’s all a mess! The lines are wobbly and all over the place!”
“You could try doing it a different way,” Dan offers uncertainly. “You could pick a number and find all of that number to fill in instead of going in order and doing a different symbol each time.”
“Could I?” he asks Lynn, who’s been kind enough to pause his time.
“Sure, if that works for you hon,” she nods.
Jones goes back to the worksheet, concentration written across his face, and begins filling in all the boxes marked with a number two. It seems a bit easier for him that way, focussing on the one, simpler, symbol. He bends over the page, his face just centimetres from the waggling end of the pencil. He finishes the number twos and moves onto the next easiest symbol in the legend. There are scattered blank squares throughout the rows of boxes as he moves on to the next number.
“And, time’s up,” Lynn says with a smile. “You’re all done.”
“But I’ve not finished,” he frowns and as she reaches to take the page from him, his hand slams down on top of it. “I’ve still got five more numbers to finish.”
“I know, dear, but the test is to see how many you can do in ninety seconds,” she explains calmly. “So it’s okay if you’re not finished.”
“No it’s not!” he protests, holding down the paper even harder as Lynn tries to pick it up again.
“Jones, you need to give me the test paper,” she says firmly, not letting go.
“No, I’m not done!” he exclaims angrily. “I need to finish the rest of the numbers!”
“Jones, it’s okay,” Dan tries to sooth him as he places a hand just above his knee, but Jones pulls his leg away.
“No!” he shouts.
“How about this- Jones, look at me,” Lynn says softly, taking a step closer to him. “Listen to me, how about you give the sheet to me to count and then I’ll give it back after so you can finish it up? How does that sound?”
“No!” he cries again, his pitch increasing as his breath gets heavier. “You can’t count it! I’m not done! It’s not hard, it’s not supposed to be hard! You told me they weren’t going to be hard!”
“Jones, I- I’m sorry-” Dan sputters.
“I need to finish it! I’m not stupid! I’m not!” he continues to wail. “NO! I can’t even do this dumb test and it’s not hard! I can’t do anything! Please! Please let me finish!”
“Jones!” Dan exclaims and grabs his arm firmly. “Hey. Calm down. Take a deep breath.”
His hands ball into fists as his chest heaves and he lets out a scream through barred teeth. Dan squeezes his arm harder, pulling himself farther into the bed and laying his left hand on Jones’s thigh. Jones grips the pencil in both hands and Lynn snatches up the paper quickly.
“AAH!” he shouts again and snaps the pencil in two, throwing both halves in opposite directions.
His shaking hands find their way to each side of his head and he punches himself in the temple before grabbing fistfuls of his own hair and pulling. Dan tries to pull his hands away, but Jones won’t let go and he can’t get them away without pulling his hair more. He lets go of him, not knowing what to do and turns to Lynn for some kind of guidance, but she’s got her back to them both as she dials a number into the nurses’ phone.
Without warning, Jones leans forward fast, smacking his head down against the folding table. It collides with a bang and the surface rattles as he draws himself up and brings his face crashing down again. Dan lets out a cry of mingles shock and horror as Jones straightens up again, but before he can plunge back down, Dan lunges forward on his knees and pins both his shoulders back against the pillows. Jones’s hands are still tangled in his hair as Dan holds him still and suddenly Lynn is by their side again, folding away the table by the bedside. With it out of the way, Dan loosens his grip on Jones’s shoulders and he instead flings himself into Dan’s chest.
Dan wraps his arms around him tightly, clutching his head to his chest as he grits his teeth and shrieks again, his chest heaving with frustrated sobs. Dan holds his with an iron grip, not letting him move a single centimetre as they ride out the fit together. Jones’s hands eventually release his hair and flop down at his sides. Two more nurses show up and one gives him some kind of sedative through his IV. When Dan doesn’t let go or show any signs of moving, Lynn ushers them out again and closes the door.
“How is he?” she asks quietly, pretending not to notice Dan’s tears.
“He’s asleep,” he finally whispers back, and his grip begins to slacken.
“Thank you, Dan-”
“Don’t,” he says, running his fingers through Jones’s hair. His stomach turns when he sees the number of hairs he takes with them, “He’s mine. I won’t ever stop protecting him. Even if it’s from himself.”
He slowly leans forward in the bed, lowering Jones down against the pillows. When he pulls back he notices that Jones’s nose is bloody, as well as the front of his shirt and curses under his breath. Before he can even look up; however, Lynn’s dabbing at his upper lip with some wet cotton wool. Dan slides out of the bed, his joints stiff, and sinks back into the chair slowly.
“Don’t worry,” Lynn whispers. “It’s not broken, just a little bloody. Can I get you something for your shirt-?”
Dan raises a hand to silence her and shakes his head. He strokes Jones’s cheek with the pad of his thumb and there’s silence in the room for a few more minutes before he summons up the courage to speak.
“So,” he says monotonously. “He’s got it, hasn’t he?”
Chapter 32