Game Changer - Chapter 35/35
Category: Slash - Dan (Ashcroft) & Jones
Rating: PG
Summary: "Does this mean he's waking up?"
Warnings: medical descriptions and references, strong emotions, swearing
Word Count: 3481
A nurse walks through the door and he half-turns toward them, still squeezing Jones’s shoulder.
“He turned his head,” Dan begins quickly.
“You shouldn’t be out of the bed on your own-” they protest, obviously taken aback.
“I didn’t do anything, I swear, he did it on his own-”
“-you could have a terrible fall-”
“-I wasn’t even touching him-”
“-you need assistance-”
“Yeah, okay, I know, I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed,” Dan says impatiently. “I’m sorry, alright. Just, please, Jones moved his head!”
“Sir, I’m going to have to insist on helping you back to bed, but I will attend to Mr. Jones as soon as you are in bed.”
“Alright, okay,” Dan grumbles as he shuffles across the floor hurriedly, the nurse gripping his biceps.
He begrudgingly allows them to help him sit on the edge of the bed once the side rails have been removed.
“So explain to me what happened?” they ask Dan, taking the clipboard from the end of Jones’s bed.
“I was talking to him and he just turned his face towards me,” Dan says. “I couldn’t have moved him or anything, I swear, I was holding the rail with both hands, he did it on his own. He just turned to me like he was listening to what I was saying.”
“Alright, thank you,” says the nurse, scribbling away at the clipboard before returning it to the hook at the end of the hospital bed. “Can you call to him from where you are please?”
“Jones?” Dan calls without hesitation, his heart beating fast in his chest. “Jones, are you listening to me Jones? Look at me.”
To his delight, Jones moves his face slightly again, angling it towards Dan.
“See! I told you!” he laughs giddily.
“Mr. Jones,” the nurse says from the other side of the bed, looking down at Jones. “Mr. Jones? My name is Jamie, Mr. Jones, I’m a nurse practitioner.”
Again, Jones moves his head in the direction of the voice, and Dan lets out a whoop of excitement.
“Does this mean he’s waking up?” he asks eagerly.
“That would depend on your definition of ‘waking up’, sir,” they reply. “It is certainly progress. He should be higher on the GCS. I’m going to test the other areas on the scale.”
Dan watches intently as the nurse tries to get Jones to open his eyes. He does the trick Lynn had taught him, pressing on one of Jones’s fingernails, and after a few tries, Dan catches a glimpse of brilliant blue. The nurse doesn’t notice right away, more preoccupied with Jones’s hand as it pulls away from theirs.
“His eyes!” Dan exclaims, getting to his feet again. “Jones! Jones, are you awake Jones? Can you hear me? Can you see me?”
The nurse looks torn for a moment before calling another nurse to the room. Jones keeps his eyes open for a minute or two, but they look unfocused and vacant before he eventually closes them again. When the young nurse from last night shows up, she’s got a wheelchair with her that she makes Dan sit in. She explains to him that he can move freely if he chooses, but asks that he does not try to stand and walk on his own again. He nods and apologizes half-heartedly as he wheels himself to Jones’s side as the other nurse checks the various monitors beside the bed.
Jones’s brows twitch suddenly and his hands begin making strange movements. Dan reaches out and takes his left hand in both of his, careful of the IVs as he squeezes it.
“Jones,” he says, Jones’s right hand sort of flopping against the bed like a fish out of water. “Jones, love, it’s Dan. It’s me, Dan, Jones. It’s okay, I’m here with you.”
Dan hears the door open and close, but he’s not sure which of the nurses have left, all his focus on Jones. He opens his eyes again, peering straight ahead unseeingly and his hand give a lurch.
“Come on Jones,” Dan encourages him. “You can do it, come back to me, Jones.”
He watches in fascination as his hand crawls haphazardly up the right side of his body, his fingers flexing sporadically, and his eyes close again. The remaining nurse is fussing with something in Dan’s peripheral vision as Jones’s fingers make their way up his chest and suddenly wrap around his endotracheal tube. He makes to pull at the tube coming out of his mouth, but Dan’s quicker.
“No, Jones!” Dan exclaims, wrapping a fist around Jones’s twitching hand to keep it from being able to move or tug at his breathing tube. “Don’t touch that.”
The door can be heard swinging open and then shut again before a familiar voice speaks.
“Graham!” Bruce calls, closing the distance between the door and bedside in a few large strides.
He’s covered by the same garments Dr. Edwards had worn the night before: one of the nurses’ gowns that are made from a strange gauzy material, a mask over half his face and some sort of hairnet over his head. Jones’s hand gives another spasm in Dan’s grip.
“Can you get his hand away from his endotracheal tube?” the younger nurse asks in her slightly accented voice, taking his thin wrist in her hand. “Can you get his fingers to release the tube?”
Dan helps her carefully prise his hand away and she quickly brings it to the side of the bed.
“Graham, can you hear us?” Bruce asks as she fastens a cuff around his wrist. “Graham, leave the tubes alone, okay son? They’re there to help you.”
“Turn it down and see if we can remove it, hm?” she says to the other nurse as she bustles around to the other side of the bed to restrain Jones’s other hand.
“Jones?” Dan asks, stroking his cheek.
He frowns slightly, his eyebrows creasing, but his eyes don’t open. Jones’s hands continue to twitch irregularly, bound by his sides, and Dan coos encouragement gently until one of the nurses repositions one of his pillows under his neck, tilting his head back. She smiles between Dan and Bruce for a moment, but they he doesn’t understand what’s going on.
“He’s breathing on his own,” she says to Dan in response to his look of confusion.
“So, he doesn’t need the machine anymore?” he asks.
“We are going to remove the endotracheal tube, yes,” she replies. “We’ll give him oxygen to help him out, but it looks like he does not have to rely on it to breathe for him.”
Taking out the tube from his windpipe looks horrible; although, Jones doesn’t have much of a gag reflex. Dan turns scarlet at the thought. Jones’s first few breaths sound laboured, but they put on oxygen mask over his mouth and nose and it gets better. He even starts to make little noises that gradually turn into a strange sort of mumbling after about an hour.
The room has been swarming with doctors and nurses checking on Jones for hours while Dan and Bruce sit by his bedside. He’s trying not to get too hopeful, forcing him to reminding himself over and over that even if Jones does wake up, he may be different, or have amnesia. He may not even know who Dan is. But he is waking up; he has to be. When Jones opens his eyes he can almost focus on Dan and his dad. His gaze still seems out of focus, like he’s looking through them rather than at them, but just seeing him respond makes Dan’s heart beat faster.
“Jones?” Dan asks for what be the thousandth time now.
He’s almost immediately rewarded with a flash of blue. His pupils seem huge.
“Jones, how are you feeling? Can you hear me?”
This time his blue eyes lock on Dan’s. He frowns momentarily and tilts his head to the side.
“Graham,” Bruce adds, getting to his feet, and Jones turns his face to look at him. “Son, can you hear me? Nod or blink if you understand what I’m saying, Graham.”
Jones continues to frown and Dan holds his breath subconsciously. He seems almost pensive, and then, ever so slowly, he nods his head. Bruce and Dan look at each other, both with their mouths hanging open. His hands begin to move, pulling at the restraints and he looks around the room, blinking rapidly.
“Graham, it’s okay,” Bruce says soothingly and Dan wheels himself a bit further back, worried he’ll scare Jones if he doesn’t remember him. “Listen to me, okay? Look. Look at me.”
Jones obeys, but the blinking and tugging of his restraints doesn’t stop.
“I want you to look at me closely, alright?” he continues slowly. “Do you know who I am?”
He looks away again, pulling harder on the wrist cuffs, and a nurse comes into the room, shooing Bruce and Dan away from the bed.
“He understands what people are saying,” Dan says from his own bedside. “We asked him to nod if he understood and he did.”
“Mister Jones?” they ask, making sure the restraints are secure. “Mister Jones, do you know where you are?”
Jones just stares at them blankly, looking slightly delirious.
“No? You don’t know where you are?” the nurse asks again and Jones continues to shake his head. “It’s alright sir, you are going to be fine. Right now you are in a hospital, okay? We’re going to take good care of you.”
“He doesn’t like hospitals,” Dan pipes up again, nervously. “They make him freak out.”
“Mister Jones, you’ve had a surgery here and you are doing great, okay?” they continue.
Jones is looking at the nurse now, and although his hands refuse to stop trying to break loose, he seems to be taking in what they’re saying.
“You are just waking up, that is why you are a bit confused, alright?” she says reassuringly. “The restraints are just to make sure you don’t hurt yourself, we’ll take them off soon, okay? I just want you to try and calm down a little bit, just try and relax.”
Dan wants to comfort him so badly, but he looks confused enough with just the nurse talking to him. Besides, if he didn’t even recognize his own dad, there’s no way in hell he’s going to remember Dan.
“Do you know the date, Mister Jones?” the nurse asks, but he just shakes his head.
He’s closed his eyes and the movement of his hands slows down.
“Today is the twenty second of March, two thousand and five. Does that make sense?”
Jones makes another strange type of wail as his eyes dart about the room.
“Your name is Graham Jones. You were born in June of 1980.”
He gives a slightly confused attempt at a nod, his eyes closing again, and makes another high pitched noise.
“He lives at the house of Jones with his…” Dan looks at Bruce and gnaws on the inside of his cheek. “Erm, he lives with his mate Dan and Dan’s sister, Claire.”
“You have a friend called Dan that you live with, and your friend Dan’s sister Claire lives with you both,” says the nurse slowly. “I am Sandra, I’m a nurse at the hospital and I’m here to help you, alright?”
Jones smiles a crooked sort of smile and begins to murmur gibberish, as if he’s having a conversation with someone who isn’t there. The noises he makes are similar to that of a whining dog, but he seems enthusiastic rather than upset, which Dan thinks is good.
Doctor Wallace tells them that he is considered conscious and aware, but that he lacks most motor skills, so in the state he’s in, he doesn’t really know how to talk.
“So it’s like the hepatic encephalopathy, only in reverse now?” Dan asks her hopefully.
“We don’t know,” she says. “It is very likely this is how he will stay, but there is a possibility he will regain his speech, it’s hard to say. We will just continue to monitor him and see if he makes any more progress.”
“Well, I’ll be able to keep an eye on him,” Dan insists. “I can watch him 24/7 basically.”
“For now,” she concedes. “But once you’re moved from intensive care to a regular room-”
“Wait, when is this happening?” Dan blurts, looking between Bruce and the doctor. “I thought Ennis bought us that room?”
“Yes, for your recovery after surgery; however, your recovery length is much shorter than Mr. Jones’s and requires less intensive and specialised treatment. You are perfectly capable of making a full and speedy recovery out of intensive care.”
“Don’t worry Jones,” Dan whispers later that night, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “They’re not getting rid of me that easy. That’s a promise.”
And it’s a promise Dan keeps. Every time they’re set to discharge him, Dan has another ‘accident’; over exerting himself to the point they’re forced to keep him in intensive care, or his stitches mysteriously getting ripped out. The hospital are frustrated with him, Bruce has pleaded with him to stop, and Claire is furious whenever she gets to visit him and sees the shape he’s in. To Dan, though, it’s all worth it. He watches as the gibberish turns to mutterings, and eventually, actual words.
“Graham,” Bruce says softly. “Do you know who I am?”
“Mm,” he replies, trying to keep his eyes open long enough to really focus. “Mhm.”
“You do?” Bruce asks, his eyes shining with tears.
“Mm,” says Jones again, nodding shakily. “Dad.”
“That’s right, son,” Bruce says, taking one of his hands in both of his, tears spilling over his cheeks. “I’m dad.”
“Dad,” he repeats.
“What about this?” Bruce asks, indicating Dan. “Do you know who this is?”
“I dunno,” Dan says in a low voice, shaking his head. “I don’t want to overwhelm him.”
Jones flops his head on the pillow and looks up at Dan anyway. He frowns, his eyebrows drawn together. He raises a hand shakily up to Dan, his fingers twitching uncontrollably. Dan takes a step closer to him and he puts his shaky hand up to his face, touching his cheeks and chin in a very haphazard sort of way; almost like he’s dabbing his face with an invisible napkin. All but two of his fingers are curled into a loose fist most of the time, his middle and index fingers sticking out a bit like a crab claw. Jones drags the two slightly more extended fingers over one of Dan’s cheeks.
“Nnn-no,” he manages, confusion still written across his face.
Dan’s heart sinks and it takes all the strength he can muster not to cry, staring at his feet.
“No b-b-beard?” Jones mumbles and Dan’s head snaps up to meet his eye. “Dan?”
Hot tears cascade down his cheeks and he laughs weakly, “No. I shaved before the surgery.”
“Mmm,” Jones hums, letting his eyes close almost entirely.
“You remember me, Jones?” he asks in disbelief.
“Mhm,” Jones reassures him with a small smile. “Dan. My Dan.”
“Yea,” Dan nods, and plants a kiss on his forehead. “Your Dan.”
Jones doesn’t seem to mind the kiss, he just settles back into the bed and falls blissfully asleep.
Dan decides he can’t keep avoiding getting moved, so he gives in a few days later. Jones’s speech gets better and so does his memory, and he even lets Dan sleep in the hospital bed with him for an hour or so in between the nurse’s check-ins the night before he’s moved rooms. He still struggles as much with controlling his hands as before the operation, but as far as Dan is concerned, he’s Jones again. Jones is Jones. Maybe with hair that’s way too long and more brown than he’s ever seen it, and maybe without very good motor skills, but he’s Jones.
“Dan?” he asks him one day.
“Yeah Jones?” Dan says softly.
“Do you think- oh,” he fumbles putting down his spoon and tries to pick up a baked bean he’s dropped. “D’you think I’ll ever be able to-”
The bean slips between his fingers and falls into his lap again. Dan’s first instinct it to pick it up for him, but the lady Jones sees for rehabilitation says it’s better to let Jones do things himself as much as possible.
“You can do it,” Dan encourages him. “There you go, Jones. Just bring it to your mouth, don’t worry about the spoon, love.”
Jones is finally able to slip the bean between his lips and he waits until he’s swallowed it to continue his question.
“Do you think I’ll ever be able to play again?”
“Yes,” Dan says so quickly and so confidently Jones blinks. “Absolutely. You’re getting better every day, Jones, and even if you spin your records differently, or use, I dunno, chopsticks to slide the faders-”
Jones smiles at that, and Dan beams back at him.
“-you’ll find a way,” he finishes. “I know you will.”
“What about walking?” Jones asks, picking his spoon up again and carefully trying to scoop up another couple baked beans.
“I don’t know, Jones,” Dan sighs. “It’ll take time. You concentrate on your hands for now though, alright? One thing at a time.”
“Okay,” he agrees, hunching over his spoon and using his lips to get his beans like a horse with a sugar cube.
Dan smiles as he watches Jones, certain that no matter whether or not he ever walks again, he loves Jones more than anything in the world.
“You can work your decks from a wheelchair, can’t you?” he asks, stroking Jones’s hair.
“Mm, I guess,” Jones says. “If I had to I could.”
“Then don’t worry,” Dan smiles. “You’ll do your physiotherapy and we’ll work on it every day when you get to come home, and I’ll help you with anything you need help with. And one day we’ll get a place of our own and we’ll get one of those things that you sit in and it takes you up the stairs, and I’ll use it just as much as you-”
Jones grins and starts to laugh, “Lazy fucker.”
“-and I could learn to drive and get a car to drive you to your gigs, and to your dad’s and to Claire’s and we’ll spend every fucking second of every day together because I fucking love you Jones.”
They’re both crying now even through their laughter.
“I love you too, Dan,” Jones says, reaching out for him, and Dan takes him in his arms.
“I’m just so happy that you’re here, and you’re okay,” he says into Jones’s hair as he hugs him close. “I came so close to losing you Jones, and I was so scared, but you’re okay and you’re getting even better and I’ve never been happier in my whole life and it’s all because of you.”
“Dan, you saved me,” Jones replies, his voice cracking. “You saved my life, and I love you, and I want to be with you forever until we’re both disgustingly old and wrinkly and saggy, ok?”
“I promise Jones,” Dan sobs. “Forever and ever, no matter what. Remember our song, Jones? I’ll never let you go. Jones-”
He breaks away from Jones suddenly, his eyes wide, and he drops down to his knees beside the bed.
“Dan what you doing?”
“Graham Jones,” he says with a soft smile.
“Are you serious?” Jones exclaims, his eyes shining, and Dan takes both of his shaky hands in his.
“Yeah,” Dan grins. “Will you marry me, Jones?”
“Dan, it’s not even legal!”
“I don’t care,” Dan laughs, and Jones joins in. “Even if it’s not, y’know, like, official, or whatever? I’ll buy you a ring, I promise, I just- I didn’t plan to do this-”
“Yeah,” Jones laughs, still crying a little bit. “Of course I will.”
They both beam at each other for a long moment and Dan pulls himself up to kiss Jones. He starts to laugh as he presses his lips against Jones’s, and fresh tears spill over his cheeks. Jones wraps his arms around Dan’s neck, not able to hold on to him any other way.
“This is my fiancé, Dan,” Jones whispers when Dan pulls away, looking between his small brown eyes. “I like that.”
“Claire’s going to be so pissed off I got engaged before her,” Dan says smugly and Jones bursts out laughing.
It’s infectious, and the more they make each other laugh, the harder they crack up until eventually a nurse comes into the room and stares at them both like they’ve gone mad. They’re both gasping for air, beaming at each other like this is the best moment of either of their lives, and although Dan can’t speak for Jones, for him, it really is.
Epilogue
Rating: PG
Summary: "Does this mean he's waking up?"
Warnings: medical descriptions and references, strong emotions, swearing
Word Count: 3481
A nurse walks through the door and he half-turns toward them, still squeezing Jones’s shoulder.
“He turned his head,” Dan begins quickly.
“You shouldn’t be out of the bed on your own-” they protest, obviously taken aback.
“I didn’t do anything, I swear, he did it on his own-”
“-you could have a terrible fall-”
“-I wasn’t even touching him-”
“-you need assistance-”
“Yeah, okay, I know, I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed,” Dan says impatiently. “I’m sorry, alright. Just, please, Jones moved his head!”
“Sir, I’m going to have to insist on helping you back to bed, but I will attend to Mr. Jones as soon as you are in bed.”
“Alright, okay,” Dan grumbles as he shuffles across the floor hurriedly, the nurse gripping his biceps.
He begrudgingly allows them to help him sit on the edge of the bed once the side rails have been removed.
“So explain to me what happened?” they ask Dan, taking the clipboard from the end of Jones’s bed.
“I was talking to him and he just turned his face towards me,” Dan says. “I couldn’t have moved him or anything, I swear, I was holding the rail with both hands, he did it on his own. He just turned to me like he was listening to what I was saying.”
“Alright, thank you,” says the nurse, scribbling away at the clipboard before returning it to the hook at the end of the hospital bed. “Can you call to him from where you are please?”
“Jones?” Dan calls without hesitation, his heart beating fast in his chest. “Jones, are you listening to me Jones? Look at me.”
To his delight, Jones moves his face slightly again, angling it towards Dan.
“See! I told you!” he laughs giddily.
“Mr. Jones,” the nurse says from the other side of the bed, looking down at Jones. “Mr. Jones? My name is Jamie, Mr. Jones, I’m a nurse practitioner.”
Again, Jones moves his head in the direction of the voice, and Dan lets out a whoop of excitement.
“Does this mean he’s waking up?” he asks eagerly.
“That would depend on your definition of ‘waking up’, sir,” they reply. “It is certainly progress. He should be higher on the GCS. I’m going to test the other areas on the scale.”
Dan watches intently as the nurse tries to get Jones to open his eyes. He does the trick Lynn had taught him, pressing on one of Jones’s fingernails, and after a few tries, Dan catches a glimpse of brilliant blue. The nurse doesn’t notice right away, more preoccupied with Jones’s hand as it pulls away from theirs.
“His eyes!” Dan exclaims, getting to his feet again. “Jones! Jones, are you awake Jones? Can you hear me? Can you see me?”
The nurse looks torn for a moment before calling another nurse to the room. Jones keeps his eyes open for a minute or two, but they look unfocused and vacant before he eventually closes them again. When the young nurse from last night shows up, she’s got a wheelchair with her that she makes Dan sit in. She explains to him that he can move freely if he chooses, but asks that he does not try to stand and walk on his own again. He nods and apologizes half-heartedly as he wheels himself to Jones’s side as the other nurse checks the various monitors beside the bed.
Jones’s brows twitch suddenly and his hands begin making strange movements. Dan reaches out and takes his left hand in both of his, careful of the IVs as he squeezes it.
“Jones,” he says, Jones’s right hand sort of flopping against the bed like a fish out of water. “Jones, love, it’s Dan. It’s me, Dan, Jones. It’s okay, I’m here with you.”
Dan hears the door open and close, but he’s not sure which of the nurses have left, all his focus on Jones. He opens his eyes again, peering straight ahead unseeingly and his hand give a lurch.
“Come on Jones,” Dan encourages him. “You can do it, come back to me, Jones.”
He watches in fascination as his hand crawls haphazardly up the right side of his body, his fingers flexing sporadically, and his eyes close again. The remaining nurse is fussing with something in Dan’s peripheral vision as Jones’s fingers make their way up his chest and suddenly wrap around his endotracheal tube. He makes to pull at the tube coming out of his mouth, but Dan’s quicker.
“No, Jones!” Dan exclaims, wrapping a fist around Jones’s twitching hand to keep it from being able to move or tug at his breathing tube. “Don’t touch that.”
The door can be heard swinging open and then shut again before a familiar voice speaks.
“Graham!” Bruce calls, closing the distance between the door and bedside in a few large strides.
He’s covered by the same garments Dr. Edwards had worn the night before: one of the nurses’ gowns that are made from a strange gauzy material, a mask over half his face and some sort of hairnet over his head. Jones’s hand gives another spasm in Dan’s grip.
“Can you get his hand away from his endotracheal tube?” the younger nurse asks in her slightly accented voice, taking his thin wrist in her hand. “Can you get his fingers to release the tube?”
Dan helps her carefully prise his hand away and she quickly brings it to the side of the bed.
“Graham, can you hear us?” Bruce asks as she fastens a cuff around his wrist. “Graham, leave the tubes alone, okay son? They’re there to help you.”
“Turn it down and see if we can remove it, hm?” she says to the other nurse as she bustles around to the other side of the bed to restrain Jones’s other hand.
“Jones?” Dan asks, stroking his cheek.
He frowns slightly, his eyebrows creasing, but his eyes don’t open. Jones’s hands continue to twitch irregularly, bound by his sides, and Dan coos encouragement gently until one of the nurses repositions one of his pillows under his neck, tilting his head back. She smiles between Dan and Bruce for a moment, but they he doesn’t understand what’s going on.
“He’s breathing on his own,” she says to Dan in response to his look of confusion.
“So, he doesn’t need the machine anymore?” he asks.
“We are going to remove the endotracheal tube, yes,” she replies. “We’ll give him oxygen to help him out, but it looks like he does not have to rely on it to breathe for him.”
Taking out the tube from his windpipe looks horrible; although, Jones doesn’t have much of a gag reflex. Dan turns scarlet at the thought. Jones’s first few breaths sound laboured, but they put on oxygen mask over his mouth and nose and it gets better. He even starts to make little noises that gradually turn into a strange sort of mumbling after about an hour.
The room has been swarming with doctors and nurses checking on Jones for hours while Dan and Bruce sit by his bedside. He’s trying not to get too hopeful, forcing him to reminding himself over and over that even if Jones does wake up, he may be different, or have amnesia. He may not even know who Dan is. But he is waking up; he has to be. When Jones opens his eyes he can almost focus on Dan and his dad. His gaze still seems out of focus, like he’s looking through them rather than at them, but just seeing him respond makes Dan’s heart beat faster.
“Jones?” Dan asks for what be the thousandth time now.
He’s almost immediately rewarded with a flash of blue. His pupils seem huge.
“Jones, how are you feeling? Can you hear me?”
This time his blue eyes lock on Dan’s. He frowns momentarily and tilts his head to the side.
“Graham,” Bruce adds, getting to his feet, and Jones turns his face to look at him. “Son, can you hear me? Nod or blink if you understand what I’m saying, Graham.”
Jones continues to frown and Dan holds his breath subconsciously. He seems almost pensive, and then, ever so slowly, he nods his head. Bruce and Dan look at each other, both with their mouths hanging open. His hands begin to move, pulling at the restraints and he looks around the room, blinking rapidly.
“Graham, it’s okay,” Bruce says soothingly and Dan wheels himself a bit further back, worried he’ll scare Jones if he doesn’t remember him. “Listen to me, okay? Look. Look at me.”
Jones obeys, but the blinking and tugging of his restraints doesn’t stop.
“I want you to look at me closely, alright?” he continues slowly. “Do you know who I am?”
He looks away again, pulling harder on the wrist cuffs, and a nurse comes into the room, shooing Bruce and Dan away from the bed.
“He understands what people are saying,” Dan says from his own bedside. “We asked him to nod if he understood and he did.”
“Mister Jones?” they ask, making sure the restraints are secure. “Mister Jones, do you know where you are?”
Jones just stares at them blankly, looking slightly delirious.
“No? You don’t know where you are?” the nurse asks again and Jones continues to shake his head. “It’s alright sir, you are going to be fine. Right now you are in a hospital, okay? We’re going to take good care of you.”
“He doesn’t like hospitals,” Dan pipes up again, nervously. “They make him freak out.”
“Mister Jones, you’ve had a surgery here and you are doing great, okay?” they continue.
Jones is looking at the nurse now, and although his hands refuse to stop trying to break loose, he seems to be taking in what they’re saying.
“You are just waking up, that is why you are a bit confused, alright?” she says reassuringly. “The restraints are just to make sure you don’t hurt yourself, we’ll take them off soon, okay? I just want you to try and calm down a little bit, just try and relax.”
Dan wants to comfort him so badly, but he looks confused enough with just the nurse talking to him. Besides, if he didn’t even recognize his own dad, there’s no way in hell he’s going to remember Dan.
“Do you know the date, Mister Jones?” the nurse asks, but he just shakes his head.
He’s closed his eyes and the movement of his hands slows down.
“Today is the twenty second of March, two thousand and five. Does that make sense?”
Jones makes another strange type of wail as his eyes dart about the room.
“Your name is Graham Jones. You were born in June of 1980.”
He gives a slightly confused attempt at a nod, his eyes closing again, and makes another high pitched noise.
“He lives at the house of Jones with his…” Dan looks at Bruce and gnaws on the inside of his cheek. “Erm, he lives with his mate Dan and Dan’s sister, Claire.”
“You have a friend called Dan that you live with, and your friend Dan’s sister Claire lives with you both,” says the nurse slowly. “I am Sandra, I’m a nurse at the hospital and I’m here to help you, alright?”
Jones smiles a crooked sort of smile and begins to murmur gibberish, as if he’s having a conversation with someone who isn’t there. The noises he makes are similar to that of a whining dog, but he seems enthusiastic rather than upset, which Dan thinks is good.
Doctor Wallace tells them that he is considered conscious and aware, but that he lacks most motor skills, so in the state he’s in, he doesn’t really know how to talk.
“So it’s like the hepatic encephalopathy, only in reverse now?” Dan asks her hopefully.
“We don’t know,” she says. “It is very likely this is how he will stay, but there is a possibility he will regain his speech, it’s hard to say. We will just continue to monitor him and see if he makes any more progress.”
“Well, I’ll be able to keep an eye on him,” Dan insists. “I can watch him 24/7 basically.”
“For now,” she concedes. “But once you’re moved from intensive care to a regular room-”
“Wait, when is this happening?” Dan blurts, looking between Bruce and the doctor. “I thought Ennis bought us that room?”
“Yes, for your recovery after surgery; however, your recovery length is much shorter than Mr. Jones’s and requires less intensive and specialised treatment. You are perfectly capable of making a full and speedy recovery out of intensive care.”
“Don’t worry Jones,” Dan whispers later that night, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “They’re not getting rid of me that easy. That’s a promise.”
And it’s a promise Dan keeps. Every time they’re set to discharge him, Dan has another ‘accident’; over exerting himself to the point they’re forced to keep him in intensive care, or his stitches mysteriously getting ripped out. The hospital are frustrated with him, Bruce has pleaded with him to stop, and Claire is furious whenever she gets to visit him and sees the shape he’s in. To Dan, though, it’s all worth it. He watches as the gibberish turns to mutterings, and eventually, actual words.
“Graham,” Bruce says softly. “Do you know who I am?”
“Mm,” he replies, trying to keep his eyes open long enough to really focus. “Mhm.”
“You do?” Bruce asks, his eyes shining with tears.
“Mm,” says Jones again, nodding shakily. “Dad.”
“That’s right, son,” Bruce says, taking one of his hands in both of his, tears spilling over his cheeks. “I’m dad.”
“Dad,” he repeats.
“What about this?” Bruce asks, indicating Dan. “Do you know who this is?”
“I dunno,” Dan says in a low voice, shaking his head. “I don’t want to overwhelm him.”
Jones flops his head on the pillow and looks up at Dan anyway. He frowns, his eyebrows drawn together. He raises a hand shakily up to Dan, his fingers twitching uncontrollably. Dan takes a step closer to him and he puts his shaky hand up to his face, touching his cheeks and chin in a very haphazard sort of way; almost like he’s dabbing his face with an invisible napkin. All but two of his fingers are curled into a loose fist most of the time, his middle and index fingers sticking out a bit like a crab claw. Jones drags the two slightly more extended fingers over one of Dan’s cheeks.
“Nnn-no,” he manages, confusion still written across his face.
Dan’s heart sinks and it takes all the strength he can muster not to cry, staring at his feet.
“No b-b-beard?” Jones mumbles and Dan’s head snaps up to meet his eye. “Dan?”
Hot tears cascade down his cheeks and he laughs weakly, “No. I shaved before the surgery.”
“Mmm,” Jones hums, letting his eyes close almost entirely.
“You remember me, Jones?” he asks in disbelief.
“Mhm,” Jones reassures him with a small smile. “Dan. My Dan.”
“Yea,” Dan nods, and plants a kiss on his forehead. “Your Dan.”
Jones doesn’t seem to mind the kiss, he just settles back into the bed and falls blissfully asleep.
Dan decides he can’t keep avoiding getting moved, so he gives in a few days later. Jones’s speech gets better and so does his memory, and he even lets Dan sleep in the hospital bed with him for an hour or so in between the nurse’s check-ins the night before he’s moved rooms. He still struggles as much with controlling his hands as before the operation, but as far as Dan is concerned, he’s Jones again. Jones is Jones. Maybe with hair that’s way too long and more brown than he’s ever seen it, and maybe without very good motor skills, but he’s Jones.
“Dan?” he asks him one day.
“Yeah Jones?” Dan says softly.
“Do you think- oh,” he fumbles putting down his spoon and tries to pick up a baked bean he’s dropped. “D’you think I’ll ever be able to-”
The bean slips between his fingers and falls into his lap again. Dan’s first instinct it to pick it up for him, but the lady Jones sees for rehabilitation says it’s better to let Jones do things himself as much as possible.
“You can do it,” Dan encourages him. “There you go, Jones. Just bring it to your mouth, don’t worry about the spoon, love.”
Jones is finally able to slip the bean between his lips and he waits until he’s swallowed it to continue his question.
“Do you think I’ll ever be able to play again?”
“Yes,” Dan says so quickly and so confidently Jones blinks. “Absolutely. You’re getting better every day, Jones, and even if you spin your records differently, or use, I dunno, chopsticks to slide the faders-”
Jones smiles at that, and Dan beams back at him.
“-you’ll find a way,” he finishes. “I know you will.”
“What about walking?” Jones asks, picking his spoon up again and carefully trying to scoop up another couple baked beans.
“I don’t know, Jones,” Dan sighs. “It’ll take time. You concentrate on your hands for now though, alright? One thing at a time.”
“Okay,” he agrees, hunching over his spoon and using his lips to get his beans like a horse with a sugar cube.
Dan smiles as he watches Jones, certain that no matter whether or not he ever walks again, he loves Jones more than anything in the world.
“You can work your decks from a wheelchair, can’t you?” he asks, stroking Jones’s hair.
“Mm, I guess,” Jones says. “If I had to I could.”
“Then don’t worry,” Dan smiles. “You’ll do your physiotherapy and we’ll work on it every day when you get to come home, and I’ll help you with anything you need help with. And one day we’ll get a place of our own and we’ll get one of those things that you sit in and it takes you up the stairs, and I’ll use it just as much as you-”
Jones grins and starts to laugh, “Lazy fucker.”
“-and I could learn to drive and get a car to drive you to your gigs, and to your dad’s and to Claire’s and we’ll spend every fucking second of every day together because I fucking love you Jones.”
They’re both crying now even through their laughter.
“I love you too, Dan,” Jones says, reaching out for him, and Dan takes him in his arms.
“I’m just so happy that you’re here, and you’re okay,” he says into Jones’s hair as he hugs him close. “I came so close to losing you Jones, and I was so scared, but you’re okay and you’re getting even better and I’ve never been happier in my whole life and it’s all because of you.”
“Dan, you saved me,” Jones replies, his voice cracking. “You saved my life, and I love you, and I want to be with you forever until we’re both disgustingly old and wrinkly and saggy, ok?”
“I promise Jones,” Dan sobs. “Forever and ever, no matter what. Remember our song, Jones? I’ll never let you go. Jones-”
He breaks away from Jones suddenly, his eyes wide, and he drops down to his knees beside the bed.
“Dan what you doing?”
“Graham Jones,” he says with a soft smile.
“Are you serious?” Jones exclaims, his eyes shining, and Dan takes both of his shaky hands in his.
“Yeah,” Dan grins. “Will you marry me, Jones?”
“Dan, it’s not even legal!”
“I don’t care,” Dan laughs, and Jones joins in. “Even if it’s not, y’know, like, official, or whatever? I’ll buy you a ring, I promise, I just- I didn’t plan to do this-”
“Yeah,” Jones laughs, still crying a little bit. “Of course I will.”
They both beam at each other for a long moment and Dan pulls himself up to kiss Jones. He starts to laugh as he presses his lips against Jones’s, and fresh tears spill over his cheeks. Jones wraps his arms around Dan’s neck, not able to hold on to him any other way.
“This is my fiancé, Dan,” Jones whispers when Dan pulls away, looking between his small brown eyes. “I like that.”
“Claire’s going to be so pissed off I got engaged before her,” Dan says smugly and Jones bursts out laughing.
It’s infectious, and the more they make each other laugh, the harder they crack up until eventually a nurse comes into the room and stares at them both like they’ve gone mad. They’re both gasping for air, beaming at each other like this is the best moment of either of their lives, and although Dan can’t speak for Jones, for him, it really is.
Epilogue