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February 11th 2006

“Well tough guy, let us see what you’re made off, come on!” Linda encourages and I watch Brian’s face twist in determination. Slowly, he shifts his weight from me, to his own legs and after a few moments, he manages to stand without support.

“Ha!” He exclaims triumphantly. At the same moment, he starts to sway slightly and I grip his shoulder, keeping him upright.

“Concentration, Brian,” Linda smiles, moving to stand in front of us, “We don’t have to get this done in just five seconds, you know that.”

He nods, staring sourly at my hand on his shoulder. I remove it quickly, holding it up in defense, “Right, right, you can do it alone, I know,” I mutter quietly, trying not to notice just how much his legs are shaking under the weight. He keeps his eyes trained on the floor, his entire body tensing in concentration. I anxiously hover behind him.

We’re teaching Brian how to walk again, cause, you know, just a normal thing.

The seconds tick by; none of us moving, afraid that if we even breathe too hard, Brian’s legs will crumble from underneath him. We all know that he’s never managed to stay upright for this long and I’m almost too afraid to move.

“Alright,” Linda eventually says cautiously, holding her hands out in front of her, “Do you want to take it to the next level?”

“I’d love to,” I smirk.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Carter,” she growls back, but I see a faint smile underneath her façade anyway. She’s almost twice my age, but we’ve been flirting jokingly for three days now, just for the fun of it, it seems. My smile spreads wide across my face and I see Brian smirk as well, although his focus is still on the ground.

“Anyway, I need you to look at me now, Brian,” the physical therapist instructs and my bandmate finally lifts his gaze, the grin still on his face. He’s panting slightly, as if just standing costs more energy than he can manage. He raises his eyebrows questioningly, indicating for her to continue, “Okay, the most important thing here is balance, remember?”

He nods. He doesn’t say much during these sessions. He doesn’t say much in general either. I brace myself quickly as he attempts to take a step towards the therapist. His legs shake violently and I shoot myself forward. To my surprise, he manages to stay on his feet, carefully placing his foot next to the other.

“Ya did it!” I exclaim, no longer able to control my excitement. It takes everything I have not to throw my arms around him and dance in victory. He would not appreciate that.

“Think you can do another one?” Linda questions softly.

I watch my friend nod eagerly as he quickly takes another step towards her. He sways dangerously to the right, losing his balance, and before I know what I’m doing, I leap forward to catch him before he hits the floor.

Throwing his arm around my shoulder, I grunt as I lift us both up to our feet again. He’s really out of breath now, growling in frustration. I glance at Linda briefly, locking our gazes, we nod at each other.

“Okay tough guy,” she says, clapping her hands, “I think we’ve done enough walking for today.”

His entire weight is on me now, as I carefully lead us back towards the bed. I gently sit us down on it, noticing Brian’s gaze drop to the floor.

“You did great,” I assure him, softly patting his shoulder. “You’ll be running around in no time, you’ll see.”

“I second that,” Linda smiles, standing in front of us with her hands on her hips. She’s probably in her mid forties, recommended as one of the best physical therapists in the country. She has not disappointed so far. Although I know Brian would have liked to see himself walking almost two days after he started the therapy, I know Linda is doing all she can.

“I guess,” I hear my friend mutter to the ground.

“How about some muscle training now?” Linda continues with over-enthusiasm.

I try not to laugh at Brian’s expression. He’s clearly not in the mood for muscle training. I suppose Linda notices this too as she slowly walks closer to us.

“I want to do something a little different this time around,” she whispers, making it sound like a secret.

Neither me, nor Brian are impressed. “You!” she points at me, although she knows my name very well, she never calls it out loud, “I want you to sit opposite of him.”

I raise my eyebrows, mildly curious now. Slowly I get up, retrieving a plastic chair from one of the closets.

Planting myself on it, opposite of my friend, I stare up at Linda, expectantly.

“Where’s that table?” she mutters, looking around. “Ah!”

She runs to the other half of the room, dragging the heavy table along with her. “Back off,” she tells me and I push myself and the chair about three feet backwards.

Carefully, Linda sets the table in between me and Brian, grinning at the both of us. We stare back at her, not really understanding what she wants us to do. She sighs theatrically, bending over the table. “Do I have to explain everything?” she smiles.

Brian nods seriously, “Preferably, yes.”

I smile back at him, then look at the therapist again, “What do you want? Dinner?”

“Maybe another time,” she drawls, “No, I want you two to both put your right elbows on the table. You’re both right-handed, correct?”

“Left with golf,” Brian muses. I stare at him. Why does he remember that?

“That’s not important in this exercise,” Linda friendly informs him. He just shrugs.

“You want us to arm-wrestle,” I state, slowly turning my gaze to Linda.

“Yes.”

“That’s not fair,” I mumble, more to myself than to anyone else. Even before all this, I would usually win an arm-wrestle contest with Brian. How does she expect us to-
I stop thinking when I see the rueful glint in Brian’s eyes as he flashes me a malicious grin. I gulp slightly, staring back at him questioningly.

Of course.

If you make it a challenge, you can make him do anything. I’m both astonished and glad that the particular trait is still harvested in him. He’s always been highly competitive, and so have I. It makes us a fairly annoying couple. He looks at me challengingly, daring me to refuse the exercise.

I scoff softly, shifting my gaze to Linda in confusion.

“What do you…”

“I want no holding back from either of you,” she explain before I can finish my sentence, looking at me purposefully, “You don’t let the other win, and you do not give in. understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” I mutter.

“Alright, ready?” she asks, waiting for us to join hands.

I try not to look at the scars on his arm as Brian clenches his fist around my hand and I suddenly remember Howie’s broken hand.

Shit.

I guess he sees the uneasiness in my eyes, because his smile grows even wider as he impatiently waits for Linda to start the game.

“Go!”

His strength surprises me and within three seconds, my hand slams against the table. He studies me with narrowed eyes. “That was pathetic,” he comments.

“I wasn’t… I didn’t…” I stammer, then roll my eyes, “I call a rematch.”

“Fine.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Linda nod in satisfaction. This was what she intended all along. Well played, my dear, well played. Admitted, Brian doesn’t usually accomplish a lot during muscle training, but I suspect that his lack of progress has more psychological roots, instead of physical. And apparently, if you openly start challenging him, it triggers something that ultimately reminds me of the old Brian, the one that would win every little game, even if he had to cheat his way through it.

Especially if he had to cheat his way through it.

“You scared?” he hisses venomously.

“You wish!”

It’s on again, our hands wrap around each other again as our elbows connect to the table. Linda watches me sternly, clearly telling me not to let him win. For someone who hasn’t done anything but lying in bed for three months, his strength is rather fascinating. I push back against his palm. Despite Linda’s warning glare, I can’t get it in my heart to not let him win.

Until his grip suddenly slacks and his gaze shifts to something behind me. The sudden disappearance of resistance causes me to slam his hand against the table. I let go immediately, watching him in concern.

“Brian?” I try, unsure.

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t react in any way and I slowly get up and turn around, trying to determine what it is he’s looking at. There’s nothing to see.

“Bri, you okay?” I question, noticing Linda inching closer as well.

Starting to freak out, I gently grab his shoulders, trying to get him to look at me. I have no idea what’s going on.

His haunting stare bores right through me and I’m not sure he’s even able to see me at all. He blinks with unfocused eyes, but doesn’t snap out of this trance-like state.

“What do we do?” I ask in a high voice, turning to Linda.

“We need him to calm down!” she comments urgently.

“What?” He seemed pretty calm to me. She’s probably right though, he looks like he’s ready to explode in a matter of seconds, the noticeable short breaths labored now and his eyes trained on something we can’t see.

“Trust me, you’re not gonna like what happens if we don’t get him out of this. He needs to calm down!”

“We don’t even know what caused it!” I counter, throwing my hands up in frustration. All the while Brian doesn’t move an inch, his whole body tensing with a fear I don’t understand.

“That’s not important right now! He might have a seizure if this goes on!” Linda snarls back, “Dim the lights!”

I jump up, quickly doing as she asks. The room is wrapped in long shadows now, and I can just make out the silhouettes of the other two. Linda has kneeled in front of Brian, softly speaking in words I can’t make out. I feel myself start to panic as I don’t notice any change in his posture. I don’t know what he’s looking at, or what he’s thinking, but by the looks of it, it scares the hell out of him.

As quick as it started, that’s how quick it ends. For a moment, everything is silent as we watch Brian jump in shock, instantly snapping out of his trance. “Shut up,” he mutters a few times and I frown, completely lost.

Helplessly, I watch him try to catch his breath, and I see that Linda doesn’t have a clue on what to do either.

Of course, the Brian I know wouldn’t be the Brian I know if he didn’t pretend like nothing was wrong. He stares back at me, challenging me to say anything about what had just happened. I keep my mouth closed, instead turning to Linda.

“I think therapy session’s over,” I state slowly.

Linda nods, still with a stunned expression on her face, “Y-yes, I’ll see you tomorrow, Brian. We’ll work on fine motor skills then.” She quickly turns, intending to leave the room.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” I quickly assure my friend, pretending to not see the annoyed roll of eyes. I set off in a jog, expertly weaving myself around the bedroom obstacles towards the door. I finally catch up with Linda just outside the door.

“What happened in there?” I demand.

“I’m not sure…” she hesitates.

“Come on, you work with coma-patients for Christ’s sake! He was completely out of it! What was that?” I question desperately.

“It’s not a regular type of thing for patients,” she counters. “You don’t see these things much.”

“But you have seen them?”

“There’s nothing I can do, really. You should be talking to his psychiatrist.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I hiss a little too loud.

She back off a little, frowning. I immediately regret it.

I can get a little passionate lately about this.

“Means it’s not physical, Carter,” she explains softly. “I only have little scientific knowledge of psychology, but those were some pretty clear signs of PTSD.”

“You mean that thing soldiers get when they return from Iraq or something?” I ask, scoffing.

“Now you’re over-generalizing, but yes. If he’s been having nightmares and mood swings, he fits the pattern perfectly.”

I swallow thickly, nodding. It doesn’t help that the psycho therapy goes even worse than the physical one.



It might be time to give Howie a call.