Chapter Eleven Hazy. It was the only way he could describe it. Everything was blurry, out of focus, muted. He could hear sounds, but it was almost as if he were underwater; the sounds were subdued and far away. Everything seemed far away. He felt so distant from everything, as if he were aware that they were there, but the distance between them was just too great to bridge. Slowly, he felt himself lifting upwards, becoming distant even from his own body, floating, high, high against the white ceiling. The sounds became clearer, he could hear the nurses discussing the condition of some guy in a coma, hear the doctors dishing out instructions left and right, hear the monotonous beep…beep…beep of the machine that was monitoring the patient's heartbeat. *** Isaac paced backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, outside the ward where Rhia was admitted, thoughts racing through his head at a thousand miles an hour. Taylor was okay. Taylor was fine. Taylor was being examined to discover the extent of his injuries and the doctors said he needed alone time right now to rest. Apparently, being comatose was highly strenuous. *** He cracked open his eyes, watching as Isaac's face swam into focus, feeling gentle fingers smoothing down his hair. He managed a tiny smile, before exhaustion overcame him and he let his features fall back into the normal position.
Zac forced his eyes open, mumbling to himself in his sleep. His pillow felt rough and gritty, and his tongue felt as if it had a rainforest growing on it. And why was he so cold? Finally, things swam into focus, looming threateningly in the darkness: a moss covered stone wall; pebbles on the ground in front of him; trees swaying, their newly formed leaves rustling. Where the hell was he?
With a jolt of realization, he remembered. Leaving the house at two thirty, running here, to the wishing well. He pushed the indi-glo button on his watch, illuminating the dial. It read three-forty five. Had he really only been asleep for half an hour? Sighing, he scrambled to his feet, figuring he'd better get back before his absence was noted.
He ambled back out through the woods, along the quiet, empty streets, turning the corner that would let their huge, temporary home come into view. But as he walked around it, he stopped dead. Along the road, bright red and yellow flames were eating up the house, filling the sky with black acrid smoke. Red firetrucks were parked outside, blue lights flashing, flashing, flashing. Everyone was standing outside, too far away for Zac to make out anyone in particular. The only distinguishable people were the firefighters, with their bright yellow helmets, attacking the monster with gushing water.
He stood there, mouth open, staring at the burning building, totally shocked. How could this have happened?
Just then, he heard more wailing sirens, and an ambulance rushed passed. Ambulance. That meant someone was hurt. Jolting back to life, he began to run, feet pounding against the sidewalk, running and running, as fast as he could towards the house, but never seeming to get any closer.
It felt like it took an hour for him to run to the end of the street, but eventually, he made it. He stopped, breathing hard, and look around him. "Ollie!" he yelled. "Ollie!"
Seeing him, Ollie ran over to join him, throwing his arms around him. "Zac, Zac, you're okay. Oh, God, oh, God!"
"What happened?" Zac mumbled, holding on tightly, relieved that Ollie wasn't hurt.
"Fire," explained Ollie, stating the obvious. "No idea how it started. We all thought you were inside!"
"Is anyone hurt?" Zac asked, anxiously.
Ollie looked down. "Rhia's been taken for breathing problems. Isaac's in shock, and suffering from smoke inhalation."
"Oh, he would be," muttered Zac, contemptuously.
"But, uh, Taylor's hurt. I heard the paramedics say he's really quite serious. He ran back into the house."
"Well, it's his own fault, isn't it? What the hell did he run back in for?"
Ollie bit on his lip, looking Zac in the eye. "Actually," he began quietly. "He thought you were still inside. He went back in to save you."
***
Isaac pulled his blanket more tightly around himself, trying to calm his shivering. He was still in shock. He could remember passing out, then, what seemed like immediately, but had most likely been a few minutes afterwards, being hauled out by a pair of strong arms belonging to a fireman. Afterwards, paramedics had fussed over him, wrapped him up like a Christmas turkey in Bacofoil, made him breathe clean oxygen for ages, drying out his throat. Eventually, his breathing had returned to normal, and, after having his blood tested, it had been decided that he would be fine, and was able to be discharged in a few hours.
Now, he was sitting in his cubicle, watching as doctors, nurses and porters bustled past, like watching some surreal television. It was nothing like ER, anyway. He kept his eyes glued to the gap in his curtains, through which he could see the medics, desperately hoping to see Taylor being wheeled past, or at least hear someone discussing him. And where was his father? Sighing, he lay back on the bed, feeling completely isolated. He knew that it was impractical for everyone in the house to come to the hospital, but he would have thought that at least his dad would have followed the ambulance. And maybe Zac.
It had been awful in the ambulance, watching as the green-suited fate-decider had rushed around, trying to resuscitate his brother. Eventually, they'd managed. At least, he thought they'd managed, but his brain felt almost wooly, and he was scared that it was playing cruel tricks on him. He hadn't seen Taylor since they'd arrived at the hospital. If only he knew something.
Just then, the curtains were pulled open and Mr Hanson entered the cubicle. "Oh, God, Ike," he murmured, wrapping his eldest up into a tight hug. "Thank God you're okay."
Isaac pulled back, biting on his lip. "Tay. What about Tay?"
Mr Hanson twisted the corner of the duvet cover between his thumb and his forefinger, a sure sign of anxiety. "That's where I've been. Discussing Tay. Ike, I'm gonna be honest with you - he wasn't so lucky. He's in pretty bad shape."
"How bad?" croaked Isaac, feeling the niggling in his stomach increasing.
"He hasn't regained consciousness. He's breathing, but with the aid of a ventilator right now. He fractured his arm when he fell, has some third degree burns to his stomach, where the rafter hit him, and also, they think it caught his head." He rubbed his stubbled cheeks with his palms, blinking his bloodshot eyes. "He's in some sort of a coma right now, but the doctors, for some reason, they think that he'll come out of it pretty soon."
"So he'll definitely wake up?"
Mr Hanson sighed deeply. "Well, there's no guarantee. Apparently, if he's not out of it by this time tomorrow, he won't come out at all. And, if he does come out, there's a possibility of brain damage being caused by the falling rafter."
"My God," breathed Isaac, exhaling deeply and covering his face with his hands.
"Ike, I'm sorry."
"I tried to stop him," he murmured. "I told him it was stupid. I told him."
"You're in shock, Isaac. It's not your fault. And it's okay to cry."
But Isaac didn't want to cry. The thought hadn't even occurred to him; his eyes were completely dry, perhaps even more so than usual because of the smoke. He didn't feel like crying. He didn't feel like anything. He didn't feel, period. It was as if a huge boulder had fallen from the sky, landing on top of him and pinning him down while everyone else continued to hustle and bustle around him.
"Can I see him?"
Mr Hanson nodded. "If you think you're ready, then yes. The doctors think that it might help to bring him out of whatever state he's in right now. Talk to him. I know he'd like that."
"And where's Zac?"
"I have no idea," sighed Mr Hanson. "No idea at all."
"Makes a change."
"Ike, I have something else to tell you."
Isaac frowned. "What's that?"
"Rhia was also taken by more paramedics, after you'd left. She ran back into the house
to try and see you."
"Oh my God." Isaac ran his hands through his hair. "Is she okay?"
"I haven't heard anything," admitted Mr Hanson. "How about you go see Taylor, and I'll try to find someone to talk to you, yeah?"
He sighed. "Sure. Yeah. But hurry, please."
As he pushed himself off the bed, he watched his father disappear around the corner to try and find information about his girlfriend. And as he gingerly stepped out of the cubicle, hoping to find someone who could direct him towards his brother, he hoped to God that they would both be okay.
***
He swam closer to the patient, limbs beating against the thick, syrupy air, closer, closer, to the pale face, the closed, dark ringed eyes, the bandaged head, the plastered arm, the bare chest, dotted with sticky pads, and, more disturbingly, the abdomen swabbed in white material, redness and blistering evident around the side of them. He peered closer at the white, chalky face, recoiling in shock. The young man looked exactly like he did.
Just then, the door to the room swung open, and someone shuffled in. Someone that looked exactly like Isaac. The Isaac-person murmured briefly with one of the white coated doctors, who nodded, then motioned to everyone, who followed him out of the room, like the rats to the Pied Piper of Hamelin.
He watched as the figure sat down beside the patient's bed, and took his hand, wiping at his eyes. He wept silently for a minutes or so, then cleared his throat, beginning to speak. "Hey, Taylor."
Those two words made his floating body feel like lead. Taylor. He was Taylor. The patient couldn't be Taylor. He moved closer to the patient. It definitely looked like him.
And the guy was definitely Isaac.
Realization hit him like a ton of bricks: he was having an out-of-body experience. He didn't think they actually happened, that they were just made up by the weirdos on TV, trying to make money, and here he was floating by the ceiling, while everyone else thought he was unconscious. What had happened anyway? Everything was blurry; he couldn't really remember. Maybe if he listened to Ike, he'd figure it out.
"Tay…I…God, I'm so scared for you, buddy. I just want you to be okay, I do, I really do. I told you not to be dumb and run back in, didn't I?"
Run back in where?
"And look at you now. You're burned; you can't breathe; you've broken your arm; they don't know if you'll come out of this. And I'm practically unhurt. Why couldn't it have been me, Tay? Why not me? Why did the fire get you?"
Fire. Okay, so the house had been on fire, and he'd run back in. Ike was right - that was really stupid. But why had he gone back in?
"And Zac won't be grateful, you know that. No one knows where he is. Dad's trying to call him."
He'd gone back in to save Zac? He guessed it made sense. Zac was obviously still alive, but where had he been? Why hadn't he run out of the house like everyone else?
"You're probably wondering how everyone else is," murmured Isaac. "You're like that. Well, everyone's okay. Except me, you and Ree. I'm good, though. Well, good as you can be when your brother and your best friend's in a coma, and you don't know how your girlfriend is. Dad's trying to find that out for me, too. I didn't even know she ran in after me, but she did. Guess she must love me, huh? Gotta really love someone to run back into a fire to try and save them. You tried to do it for Zac; I tried to do it for you; she tried to do it for me. And the ironic thing is, Zac was never in there in the first place. I'm not sure, actually, if that's ironic. It's maybe just unfair, or ill-fated or downright nasty."
Wow. Even in a situation like this, Ike sure could ramble on for hours.
"Tay, you gotta come back to me. Please. I know you're in there."
He wasn't, actually. He was out there.
"Wherever you are, please try and come back to me. Please, Tay, please." His voice cracked and he rested his head on his brothers unmoving body, trembling and shaking.
Floating against the ceiling, he felt his heart tighten. He had to try and get back in. He lowered himself down until he was face to face with himself. If this was anything like your textbook out of body experience - if there was such a thing - then he would just fall back into himself at some point, and wake up. At least, that's what always happened on "Strange But True". He just had to wait, lying above himself, listening to his brother trying to coax him back inside.
Isaac finally raised his head and squeezed tighter on Taylor's hand. "Taylor, if I lost you, I don't know what I'd do. I don't think I could function. If you lose yourself, then I'm gonna get lost too."
No pressure or anything.
"The doctors say that if you're not out of this in twenty four hours, you probably won't come back at all."
Oh, great. A time limit.
"And I really couldn't deal with it, Tay. We've done everything together, for as long as I can remember. I mean, sure there are times when I want to kick your skinny little ass, but, for the most part, you're one of the greatest guys ever. Remember when you chucked that bucket of water over that fan that stood outside our bedroom window for hours on end, before we were even signed? Remember when we used to dig for bugs, then try to feed them to Zac? Remember when Tommy Carillon called me a nerd and you stomped up to him and told him that if he called your big brother a nerd again, you'd beat him to ketchup? Remember when I cleaned the blood off your face ten minutes later?"
Isaac smiled through his tears. "We've been through so much, Tay. Especially in the last few years. I mean, there's been bad stuff, but shit happens. And we beat that because we stuck together. Me, you, Zac. And I know Zac's been AWOL lately, but we've still always been there for each other, and I couldn't deal with that if we weren't. I mean, I know, Tay, we can't be as close as we were when we were kids. I know that I can't kiss your skinned knees or cuts better anymore, cause, well, when you're old, it's looked upon as pretty damned weird. Not that I want to kiss you or anything," he frowned, smiling at himself through his tears. "And I know that I can't even tell you I love you all that often, because it's gay or incestuous or whatever, but let me tell you this, Taylor: I love you. I love you so much, and I know I couldn't get by without you. I know I don't say it often, but I feel it every day." He reached out and ran his fingers through Taylor's hair. "Please, Tay. Come back to me."
He wanted to cry. Floating above his own body, he wanted nothing more than to cry and
throw his arms around his big brother, feel Isaac's strong arms holding him, and tell him that he loved him too. But he couldn't. He wasn't getting back in yet.
The door swung open again, and the doctor reappeared.
"Mr Hanson? Clarke Hanson?"
"Uh, yeah." Isaac didn't see any point in telling him that he went by his middle name. "That’s me."
"You okay?" queried the doctor, frowning at Isaac's red eyes and tear-stained face.
"Yeah, I'm holding up."
"We have a lot of hope for your brother. We really think he'll come out."
Isaac smiled wanly and nodded.
"I understand you're the boyfriend of Rhiannon Davidson?"
"Uh, yes. Yes, I am."
"Well, I have some good news for you, then. Both she and the baby are just fine."
He felt himself falling, falling, gently, gently back into himself.
"Oh my God. Baby?! OH MY GOD!! Taylor?!" Isaac looked from the smiling face of the doctor to the flickering eyelids of his brother.
Taylor opened his eyes with a jolt. He was back home.
Now, he had to worry about Rhia. Rhia was pregnant. Rhia was having a baby - his baby. "Just great," muttered Isaac. "Fantastic. Other guys get to fuck, fuck, fuck different girls every night, and I have sex once - once for Pete's sake - with my girlfriend of two years and she gets pregnant. Typical."
It had to be from that one time; Rhia wasn't unfaithful. The dates coincided, anyway.
Apparently, she was two months pregnant. It was roughly two months since their…well, Isaac had taken to calling it the Cottage Experience. But they'd used a condom. "99.9 per cent reliability, my ass!" he hissed under his breath.
But it did explain everything. Rhia's sudden weight gain now didn't seem so freakish, just a result of amniotic fluid and a zygote. Or an embryo. How long before it changed from a zygote to an embryo anyway? The fact that she complained of nausea in the mornings sometimes, although she'd never actually been sick. But she'd never mentioned missing a period. This was all too strange. All like it was happening in a whole other dimension to a whole other person.
He took a deep breath and entered the ward, stalking across to Rhia's bed, where she sat, white sheets up to her chest, hands folded across her belly, her cheeks tearstained.
"How's Tay?" was the first thing she wanted to know.
Isaac sighed, pulling a chair up beside her bed. "He's…well…he's out of the coma. The doctors are examining him now, and he needs some rest, because it's exhausting lying there doing nothing."
"Good," she murmured. "Ike, did the doctor tell you?"
"About…" Isaac nodded towards her stomach. "Yes. Yes, he did."
"I guess you wanna break up with me now, huh?" she asked tearfully, eyes beginning to well up again.
Something burst inside Isaac just then. Something that banished away all his dark thoughts and reminded him that he loved Rhia, with all his heart, all his mind, body and soul. She was his life, and a tiny baby, something that they'd made together, out of love, albeit by accident, could only reinforce that. He reached out and took her hand. "Of course not, Ree. No way on this earth. It's our baby. And I love you. I wouldn't let you do this on your own."
"But you can't say you're happy about it."
He shook his head. "No," he admitted. "I can't. Not just yet anyway. Maybe sometime, but not right now. I'm still in shock. And it's gonna be hard, looking after it. There'll be so much strain on our relationship, and, yeah, it's gonna be really tough, but I think we'll get through it."
"Maybe, in a couple of months, we'll be happy," she suggested gingerly.
"Maybe," he concurred. "It's never gonna be ideal, but I'm sure we'll love whatever's growing inside you so much."
She smiled, tears spilling over. "God, Ike, I love you so much. So much."
"And me you," he returned, kissing her cheek tenderly. He put his hand on her stomach, feeling the gentle swell. "It's harder than normal," he noted.
"That's because it's not pure fat any more," she replied, shrugging her shoulders apologetically. "It does explain the weight gain, though."
"What weight gain?" smiled Isaac.
Rhia shook her head. "You're such a charmer. Don't pretend like you didn't notice."
"Okay, I noticed. But it's hardly a grotesque amount to put on or anything, so…"
"You just thought I was getting chubbier?" she supplied.
Isaac trailed off, shrugging.
"It's okay. I thought that too, remember?"
He remembered alright. How could he forget the image of her lying on the bed, tugging desperately at her jeans and crying uncontrollably? "Rhia… How come you didn't tell me you skipped a period?" he asked, lacing his fingers through hers.
"Because I didn't really. I got one right after we…you know… and I mean, I guess this one was a little late, but I put it down to stress or bad eating or something. I never thought… I mean, we used a condom!"
"I know," he sighed. "But we will deal with this Rhia. We will. It might seem impossible to you now, because it sure as hell does to me, but we're still in shock. Tomorrow, it won't seem so bad. And the day after that, even less bad. And lesser still the day after that. And, maybe someday, we'll be happy."
She smiled, patting her stomach, tears welling in her eyes once more. "Whatever's in there, it's so lucky to have a daddy like you."
"Hey, buddy," murmured Isaac, pulling up a chair. "How ya doing?"
Taylor tried to open his mouth, finding it difficult to form any words.
"Don't try to talk if you can't."
But Taylor was determined. Eventually, he forced a sentence out. "Doctor said it was a good idea to try to talk."
"He did, huh?"
"Yeah. At least get my brain working properly."
Isaac shook his head. "Taylor, there's nothing wrong with your brain, the doctor told us that."
"Nothing lasting," replied Taylor, the words becoming a little easier now. "But it feels kinda wooly. Rusty or something. Like Tik-Tok after the scarecrow locked him up to wait for Dorothy."
Isaac raised his eyebrows. "You been to Oz or something?"
"Nah. I just always liked those movies." He frowned. "Ike? I wanna sit up. I'm hurting my neck lying like this. Can you adjust my bed?"
"No way, buddy. Maybe it's best for you to lie like that."
"Can you ask a nurse? It's killing me."
Isaac motioned over a male nurse, who, after consulting with the doctor, adjusted Taylor's bed so that he was sitting up at a gentle angle.
"So," continued Isaac, after the nurse had left, "How are you feeling?"
"Oh, hunky dory," replied Taylor, rolling his eyes. "I've been out of a coma for all of five hours, I have a broken arm, a gigantoid cut on my forehead, searing burns on my stomach and my lungs feel like I've inhaled chili powder."
"I see you haven't lost your pathetic excuse for wit. And I see speech is becoming way too easy."
Taylor smiled. "It's like riding a bike. Unless something really bad happens, you just get right back on and never forget." Then his face fell. "You know they might have to graft the skin on my belly? If it doesn't reform?"
"Yeah, I know," replied Isaac gently. "Sucks, huh?"
"No kidding. It's a big operation."
"Tay, don't worry about it yet. It might not come to that. The doctors did say that the burns weren't as bad as they first thought, they just look real bad."
He nodded. "Yeah, I know. It's just a little scary, you know? This whole thing's a little scary. I'm missing a big chunk of my life. Well, like, hours of it, anyway. I can't remember anything after I ran into the house."
Isaac squeezed his hand. "Tay, it's okay. It's okay to be scared. But you're okay. You really are. You're going to get better. And you have no idea how relieved we all are about that."
He smiled wanly. "I know. And I feel bad cause, like, other people die from things like this, but I'm still scared. But I'm glad I'm okay."
"Tay?"
"Hmm?" Taylor blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill down his cheeks. Crying would just be so self-pitying.
"Would it hurt you a lot if I hugged you?"
He shook his head, a tiny smile forming again. "No. I think I might need it."
Isaac moved himself closer, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms gently around his brother. He felt Taylor begin to tremble and he rubbed his back slowly. "It's okay, Tay. It's okay."
"I can't believe I'm crying," mumbled Taylor, his voice muffled by the hand that was furiously wiping away the tears.
"I'd cry," Isaac assured him. "It's a traumatic thing you've been through. I don't think you realize just how traumatic. It's all just beginning to hit you now, yeah?"
Taylor nodded, sniffling in a way that disgusted him. He was pathetic.
"Then just cry. Cry for as long as you need to. I'm here."
Eventually, he pulled back, wiping at his eyes and nose. "Thanks, Ike."
"It's what I'm here for," he smiled.
"Ike, Dad said you had some news for me. What is it?"
Isaac bit his lip. He wasn't sure he wanted it to become common knowledge yet. He'd barely discussed it with his father, he'd just told him, and his dad had gone white and then asked him if he was okay, then disappeared off to see Taylor, in a stunned daze. And he'd obviously told him. He looked at Taylor's black ringed eyes, the bandage around his head and the pale color of his cheeks, dotted with very minor blisters. This was his brother. He had to tell him. "Uh…yeah. Taylor, you're gonna be an uncle."
"What?!" His jaw almost hit the floor. "You mean…"
"Yep. Rhia's pregnant. I'm gonna be a daddy."
"No way... How?!"
"Well, Tay, when a man and a woman fall in love…"
"Yeah, funny. But…this is just too weird."
"Tell me about it," mumbled Isaac, resting his chin in his hands.
"You're not happy about this, are you?"
"It wasn't exactly planned. I mean, I guess I'm still in shock. I don't really believe it."
"Are you gonna keep the baby?"
Isaac's eyes widened. "Abortion has never even crossed my mind. We couldn't do that. It's part of me. It's part of Rhia. We couldn't kill it. It's something I'm just gonna have to deal with."
"You know what, Ike? I think you'll be a great daddy."
Isaac smiled, his warm brown eyes crinkling at the corner. "Thanks, Tay. That means a lot."
"Sorry to interrupt this bonding session." The door slammed open and Zac entered the room.
"Where the hell have you been?" demanded Isaac instantly. "Do you know how much trouble you've caused?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. It wasn't Zac's fault. Not really. And blaming him was just going to push him further and further away. Nice going, Ike, he scolded himself, watching Zac's eyes darken.
"I didn't cause any trouble. It's not my fault that he's- " he jabbed a finger at Taylor "-too stupid to know that you don't run back into a fire for anything or anybody."
Isaac watched Taylor's face crumple, hurt evident in his watering eyes. "Cool it, Zac," he ordered.
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Taylor. Get yourself a backbone and stop crying. It was a dumb thing to do. End of story."
"I SAID COOL IT!" bellowed Isaac.
"Bite me!" shot back Zac. "Why'd you do it, Taylor? I mean, I know you're the blondest and all, but why? Why were you so stupid? WHY?!" he yelled.
"You wanna know why?" Taylor's voice was almost venomous. "Why the hell do you think? Because I love you, you asshole!
Zac just stood and stared at him, arms crossed across his chest.
"Because I love you!" shouted Taylor again. "I love you, dammit! And I thought that if I saved you, maybe you would say it back!"
"You don't love me," muttered Zac. "Not after everything I've done to you."
"You're my brother, Zac. Of course I fucking love you! I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU!" he screamed. "Now say it back!"
Zac stared at him silently.
"If you're any sort of brother, if you feel anything for me right now, you'll say it back!" he sobbed. "SAY IT!!!"
He continued to stare blankly at his hysterical brother.
Taylor began to shake again. His face was bright red, his throat was agony, and he was sobbing uncontrollably. But he couldn't stop. "SAY IT!!! SAY YOU LOVE ME!"
Zac started at him for a minute, then shook his head and ran from the room, leaving Taylor to fall backwards on to his pillow, crying even harder, so much his throat felt like it was on fire.
*** Isaac stirred the spoonful of sugar slowly into his cup of coffee, gazing into space as he moved the plastic round and round in the dark liquid. He watched as the minute hand on his watch finally jerked forward. It was so hard to believe that it was only ten forty, still the same day as the fire. Twenty-four hours ago, none of this had happened. In twelve hours, he'd been admitted and discharged from hospital, watched his brother come out of a coma and found out that he was to be a father. It was unreal, like a dream, like it was happening to someone else. He still couldn't fathom it. Sharp pain. Turn round. More pain, in the lower back this time. Leg cramped. Stretch out. Bones crack, not to mention the collision of boot against table. Sighing, Zac hauled himself up to a sitting position. Plastic chairs were not comfortable things to try to sleep in. He scratched his head, rubbing his itchy eyes and gazing wistfully at Isaac, who, by some miraculous skill, was able to sleep in those things. He was sitting, straight backed, hands clasped in his lap, as if waiting to order a meal in a restaurant or something. Except he was snoring. Pretty loudly.
uddenly, the room darkened and a shadow fell over the watery coffee. He slowly raised his head, eyes making contact with the warm brown ones above his, ones that were almost a mirror image of his own. "Hey," he sighed.
"Can I join you?"
"Sure. Of course you can."
His companion seated himself at the table, reaching across and removing the plastic stirrer from his hands. "Ike, are you okay? I mean, really okay?"
Isaac took a sip of his coffee before answering. "I dunno," he admitted. "It’s a lot to take in. Everything's too much."
"I want you to know that your mom and I are behind you. Totally. One hundred percent."
He smiled. "You have no idea how much that means to me, Dad. I thought… I guess I'd shamed you or something."
Now it was Mr Hanson's turn to sigh. "No, Ike. You haven't. We're a little shocked, and, I have to admit, a little disappointed. Not in you," he emphasized, "just in the way this has worked out. I mean, we weren't expecting to become grandparents yet, but I'm also guessing that you weren't expecting to become a father. It's definitely not an ideal situation, but we're behind you, son. We're behind both of you."
"Thank you," Isaac replied quietly. "It only happened once, I promise."
His father smiled. "Ike, you're an adult. You're of legal age, and so is Rhia. You've been together two years. We expected you guys to be…you know. Well, not that we dwelled on it or anything, but…we knew."
Isaac gave an embarrassed laugh, unsure how to respond to that.
"So, do you guys plan to marry or anything?"
He blinked. "Uh, I dunno. We're still dealing with the whole baby thing right now."
"Sorry, I guess that was a little premature. But seriously, Isaac. I want you to know that whatever you decide to do, we're supporting you all the way."
Isaac nodded. "You guys are great."
"I know. We make the Billboard Top 100 Parents," Mr Hanson joked weakly. "Did you break the news to Taylor?"
"Yeah, yeah, I did," grinned Isaac. "He was thrilled."
"I thought he would be. What about Zac? Did you tell him?"
"Umm, no. I didn't exactly get the chance…" he trailed off, making a face. "He bust in, made Tay cry again, then stormed out. I haven't seen him since."
Mr Hanson sighed again, rubbing his bleary eyes. "I don't know what to do with that kid, Ike. I really don't. When do you stop being a sweet, loving little boy and become some kind of ogre?"
Isaac shook his head helplessly. "Tay and I learned a long time ago that we just have to let him sort it out for himself. He doesn't listen to what we say anyway." He watched as his father gave a huge yawn, his eyes watering with the tension. "Dad, aren't you going home? You look exhausted."
"Someone should stay here. Just in case anything happens. Not that it should, but, you know, it might."
"Go home," Isaac told him. "I can hang out here. I want to stay for Rhia, too, she's under observation. There's no point in us both being here."
"No, no, Ike you don't have to."
"I want to. Go back to the house. See what's left of it. Get some sleep in the cottage if the bedrooms are wrecked. But I really think it's best if you go."
"Would you mind?" Mr Hanson gave a wan smile. "I am really tired."
"I wouldn't offer if I did minded," Isaac pointed out. "I want you to leave. Call Mom again. She must be really worried."
Mr Hanson nodded. "That couldn't go amiss. She wanted to fly out here on the next plane, but I told her things weren't all that serious any more. I guess she'd appreciate a call."
"Well, go do it, then."
Mr Hanson shook his head, his face relaxing into a smile. "Anyone ever told you that you're an incredibly decent person, Isaac Hanson?"
"Only five times today," joked Isaac. "Now, go! Call Mom, and the chances are you'll find Zac at the house. I'd avoid him."
Mr Hanson scrambled to his feet. "Ah, yes. Thanks for the warning." He patted Isaac on the shoulder. "Keep calling me, though. Any changes, you call me. If you get bored, you call me. If you want anything at all, you call me, okay?"
"Okay," agreed Isaac. "But seriously, I'll be fine."
"I know you will, son. But don't hesitate-"
"To call you," interjected Isaac. "Yes, I know, I know, now go home!"
Mr Hanson laughed, clapped his son on the shoulder once more and left the cafeteria.
Isaac watched his father's retreating figure finally disappear from sight, downing the rest of the coffee and deciding to head back to Taylor, checking on him before settling down for a wonderful night in the plastic chairs provided.
As the elevator doors swung open, he ambled down the corridor towards his brother's room, frowning as his eyes focussed on something at the end of the hallway, just outside Taylor's room. Or rather, someone. Someone curled up on the floor, back arched over, knees drawn up to their chest and their head resting on them. He stopped, crouching down beside him.
"Zac?" he asked, tapping on the boy's shoulder.
Zac raised his head slowly, gazing at his older brother with tired brown eyes, puffy and ringed deep purple. His face was pale, his skin sallow and his longer-growing hair in desperate need of a combing.
"Can I join you?"
When Zac shrugged, Isaac eased himself onto the floor, hugging his own knees up to his chest. "I thought you'd gone home."
"I haven't."
Isaac rolled his eyes. "Thanks for pointing that out. I didn't notice. How come you're still here?"
Zac didn't say anything, just stared out in front of him, chewing on his lower lip.
"Zac?" he pressed, a little more gently, sensing that his brother wasn't being his usual arrogant self.
He was still silent, eyes fixed on the fire hose on the wall, his chin beginning to tremble and his shoulders starting to shake.
"Zac…" Isaac repeated softly, this time not so much a question as perhaps a recognition that his brother might be coming back. "Zac, are you okay?" Gingerly, scared of the younger boy's reaction, he reached out and placed his hand on his shoulder.
Without warning, Zac burst into tears and began to cry, burying his face in his hands and sobbing silently.
Isaac, face creased with worry, cautiously slipped his arm around his brother's shoulders, afraid of pushing Zac just too far when he was obviously upset. But he needn't have worried.
Suddenly, Zac slumped down against him, crying into his chest, breathing short and gasped, arms wrapped as tight around him as they would be if his life depended on it.
Holding him tightly, Isaac began to slowly rub his brother's back, smoothing down his hair, murmuring gently, "It's okay, Zac, it's okay. Talk to me, buddy. Tell me what's wrong."
After a few minutes, Zac took in a shuddering breath, face still crumpled painfully. "I'm sorry, Ike," he blurted out, his voice trembling. "I'm really, really sorry."
Isaac nodded, squeezing him reassuringly. He hated himself for it, but right now, he couldn't help being just a little selfish. Obviously, he was upset that Zac was so distraught, but inside, his heart was overflowing with relief, with happiness, just to have Zac back again. This was giving him a glimpse, albeit a short one, into his brother's soul - something that he hadn't been given for a long, long time. He held him tighter, eyes welling with tears of his own as he felt his brother clutch at him desperately. It finally felt like Zac needed him again. "I'm here, buddy, I'm here," he murmured soothingly. "Let it all out, and we'll talk when you're ready."
Zac sniveled a little, barely nodding his head, continuing to cry for the first time in months.
Resting his cheek against his brother's damp hair, Isaac unconsciously began to rock, as he had done years ago whenever he had to comfort Zac. It felt almost like they were that young again - eight year old Isaac perched in a huge armchair, feet dangling, unable to reach the floor, holding his three year old brother, rocking him backwards and forwards, while the five year old Taylor whined about not receiving any attention. But now, Taylor didn't want any attention, and Isaac and Zac were a whole lot bigger. But that didn't mean that their feet could reach the ground yet.
Zac finally pulled back, wiping at his raw eyes and tearstained cheeks, looking ashamedly at his brother. "Sorry," he finally whispered, averting his gaze to the floor. "I got your shirt damp."
Isaac bit on his lip, gazing at his brother through shining eyes. Zac couldn't have picked a better thing to say right then. His apologizing for something that, in the whole picture, was completely insignificant reminded his brother of how much he missed him, how great things had been between them. It was a weird thing to have triggered it off, but it had definitely sparked something inside him. Maybe because it was another insight into how Zac used to be. He chuckled softly. "That really doesn't matter."
Sighing heavily, Zac raked his hands backwards through his hair. "I'm such an asshole," he breathed out angrily, tugging at the blond strands. "Such a selfish, inconsiderate, nasty asshole."
"Zac, you're not," replied Isaac automatically.
His brother looked at him wryly. "Think about it. I've turned into a bad person, Ike. A really bad person and it scares me." His chin began to tremble again. "I don't want to be a bad person, Ike, I really don't," he confessed, eyes boring straight into his brothers' as he regained control and fought back the threatening tears.
"You don't have to be," murmured Isaac softly. "You're not a bad person at heart. That's the important thing. I think you've been having a real tough time lately and it's showing…"
"Don't make excuses for me," spat Zac. "I hate myself for what I did. There isn't an excuse. I deliberately hurt you guys. I knew what I was doing was mean, and I didn't care. I wanted to hurt you."
"Why?" It was a simple enough question, but one with enough importance to cause both Hanson brothers to well up again.
Zac shook his head, refusing to give into the emotion. "I… I don't know," he admitted. "I felt so left out sometimes. You and Tay always together, always having these jokes, these things I wasn't a part of. And when I came out to NY to join you, it seemed like you guys didn't want me there."
"We did," protested Isaac. "More than anything, we did. Why didn't you tell us you felt like that?"
"It sounded pathetic. I guess I got angry. Then all that shit started with Rachelle, and everything made me angrier and angrier and I guess I took it out on you." He looked at his older brother, eyes clearly troubled. "I'm so sorry, Ike. Can I have a second chance?"
Isaac sighed. "I think it's more like your twenty second chance, Zac. But your family never runs out of chances to give you. They love you, no matter what."
"You still love me?"
"Well, yeah." He shook his head. "Of course I do. Zac, you can be a supreme jerk sometimes, but you're my brother. I'll always love you. Always."
"I wish I could be like you. I didn't love you and Taylor for a while."
Isaac frowned, biting his tongue and wondering why maybe Zac wasn't groveling more, then feeling totally ashamed of himself for thinking that, after he'd just preached about unconditional love. Still, that wasn't the response he had expected.
"Sorry," murmured Zac, sensing Isaac's displeasure. "And I know that I have a lot of making up to do for you, but I want to try. I really do."
"What changed, Zac? I want to know. How come you've realized all of a sudden?"
Zac chewed at his lower lip, looking at the floor. "Taylor ran back into a fire for me. He risked his life, and is currently in a hospital bed, all because of me. And I wasn't grateful at all. Our fight's been replaying in my head ever since. And every time I heard it, I sounded more and more like a total shithead. I guess it woke me up to myself. Tay still loves me enough to run back into a fire for me, even after everything I've done to him. That's pretty amazing."
Isaac nodded. "It sure is. He's a pretty amazing guy."
"I know," replied Zac quietly.
"He deserves to know that," he pressed.
"I know."
"You gonna talk to him?"
Zac sighed again. "Not right now. I'm not ready. But I will. I have to say thank you."
Isaac patted his shoulder. "I think there's something else that you have to say to him too…"
***
He got to his feet and circled his shoulders, bending his knees, trying to stretch out his cramped limbs. He glanced at his watch. 3:16am. It had become pretty clear that he wasn't going to get any sleep that night. Besides the torture chamber, images kept floating through his head. The fight with Taylor, the talk with Isaac, and the fifty different makeup scenarios with his next-oldest brother.
How would Taylor react? Would he forgive him instantly, and accept him back with open arms? It wasn't impossible, he figured; Taylor, right through this whole recording session, had always been disgustingly nice to him, even when he was at his worst. Would he stare at him stonily, and refuse to talk to him ever again? That wasn't impossible either. "I sure wouldn't want to talk to me again," muttered Zac, raking his hand through his hair and heading out of the small room, down towards the bathroom. Would he cry? Probably. Would he laugh? Maybe. Shaking his head, Zac realized that, despite Taylor being a pretty predictable guy, this time, he really didn't know how he would react.
He pushed open the door to the bathrooms, blinking in the harsh white lights. The room was altogether exceedingly sterile and white looking. Chrome taps sparkled, pure white plastic and ceramic fixtures gleamed and the mirrors reflected his face cruelly and unflatteringly back to him. After he'd finished in the cubicle, he stared into the unforgiving mirror, absorbing his reflection. The mirror never lied, but Zac didn't like what this mirror had to say.
His hair was in disarray, tangled, matted, stringy and dirty-looking. His brown eyes, normally warm and friendly looking, even in his bad moods, looked hard and dull. His skin was pale and sallow, smattered with sore-looking pimples. His shirt was crumpled and sported a ketchup stain, just above the slight swell of his stomach. In short, he was a mess. He looked like he didn't care about anything, like he'd given up, was a failure. Biting on his chapped lip, he shook his head decidedly. It was time to shape up. He wasn't going to let himself be a failure.
He ran his hands under the hot water faucet, smoothing down his hair, combing it through with his fingers, then vigorously rubbing at his face, trying to wash some life into himself. He took a paper towel, rinsed it in the water, added some liquid soap and daubed it against the ketchup, smiling as he realized that it was at least fading, if not coming right off.
Exercise complete, he looked back into the mirror. His hair looked a little more presentable, his eyes slightly more awake, his skin slightly fresher. The pimples still screamed out at him, but there wasn't much he could do about those. The shirt was still crumpled, but a large, wet patch replaced the ketchup. He held in his stomach, then breathed out, frowning as he ran his hand over it, wishing, for the millionth time that he had Tay's skinny-genes, instead of his own, average person genes. No one could exactly call him fat, but in comparison… He shook his head, gazing at the reflection. It wasn't much on an improvement, but there was only so much you could do with soap, water and paper towels.
Leaving the harshly lit bathroom, he stepped out into the corridor, blinking in the softer light. He smiled at the passing nurse, then decided to visit Taylor. It probably wasn't allowed, not in the middle of the night, but he had the urge to apologize right now.
He crept down the corridor, wondering why all hospitals found it necessary to paint the walls the same pukey green and yellow colors in every room, every corridor. As if people in the hospital weren't sick enough as it was. The night nurse sat in her office, back turned away from the door, absorbed in a book. He watched as she massaged her neck, stretching her legs out tiredly, then silently snuck past the door, heading towards Taylor's room. He quietly slid the door open and slipped around it, stopping in front of his sleeping brother.
His breath caught in his throat as he gazed down at him with his pale, pale face, eyes ringed with dark, dark circles. He was still connected to a couple of machines by plastic tubing and Zac could just tell from his expression that he was uncomfortable. In pain. The steady beep…beep…beep… of the monitor indicated his beating heart, and slowly, some kind of clear liquid was seeping into his blood by way of an intra-venous drip. His left arm lay, useless, at the far side of the bed, encased in a thick plaster; his face was covered in small cuts and a few blisters; the bandage around his head had been removed, revealing a long, dark red cut, scabbing over and held together with stitches and sterastrips.
All this for him. It was his fault Taylor was in such a bad state. Gingerly, he reached out and slowly, gently, smoothed down his brother's hair, watching as a frown flitted across his face, then disappeared as he sighed in his sleep. He bit his lip, feeling the tears well up inside him for what seemed like the tenth time that day. Tears were something that he'd moved away from, something he'd blocked out. But now, they were coming back, and he wished to God that they weren't, but there was nothing he could do about it.
He gently took his brother's unplastered hand in his, squeezing it softly, just waiting for the right words to come to him. He coughed quietly, then began to speak, his voice cracking. "I'm sorry, Tay," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I've been such an asshole, I know. Mainly to you, I guess. But I'm so sorry. This whole thing has made me realize how dumb I've been. I've been such a bastard…there's no other way of saying it…such a total ass…" He cleared his throat again, wiping at the tear trickling down his cheek. "And you still ran back into a fire for me. You risked your life for me. That's just…it's incredible. I don't know what to say."
Emotion overcame him and his face sank into his folded arms, body wracking with silent sobs and long, long overdue tears. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, feeling the salty rain pushing its way out through the dark storm clouds of his eyelids, thinking and thinking till his head ached, scenes from the past year flooding his memory. Taylor on the plane home, squeezing his arm, and him pushing him away. Taylor's face when Zac had exploded at them all that Christmas Eve. Taylor singing the dumb French song at the airport. Taylor screaming and crying when Zac and Ollie had come in drunk. Taylor yelling and screaming again, this time when he'd walked in on Zac and Ollie. Taylor looking thoroughly dejected and miserable, when he'd told Zac that he'd given up on him. Only, he hadn't given up.
"Zac?"
He lifted his head, still crying, his soaked eyes meeting with a pair of just as wet blue ones. He drew in a shaky breath, feeling yet more tears threatening to flood over.
Taylor bit his lip, feeling his own eyes welling up. He'd heard everything Zac had said, heard the gut-wrenching sobs coming from his brother. Instantly, the anger and the hurt disappeared, as so often happened with him. It didn't seem to matter what anyone had done to him, he instantly forgot it the minute they seemed upset. And Zac was definitely upset.
"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Tay, I'm sorry…"
Beginning to cry himself, Taylor beckoned to him, needing desperately to end this feud with his brother - someone he should love, not hate - right this minute.
Zac slid off his shoes and climbed onto the bed as instructed, relieved beyond belief when
Taylor's arm cautiously slid around his waist. He hugged him back, crying harder and harder, unable to breathe, but so incredibly grateful to be forgiven.
Chapter 12
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