That’s what they tell you in anesthesia school, at least, and now I can attest thatbeingtrue. The first thing I remember was the sound of Jack’s voice. I couldn’t tell you what he said, of course. I was swimming in that void where you know there is pain, and a lot of it, but you can’t touch it, not yet.
But you know it’s coming for you.
They will tell you that scent comes next, and that is also true. I smelled Jack. My brain’s connection to my hands or lips or tongue were not online just yet. I couldn’t really see anything, or if I saw it, my mind was not capable yet of processing it. So, I just moaned a low guttural “Jaaa” sound, unable to form that very important word, trying to move my arms to find him, but they really didn’t want to move.
Suddenly, I felt his hand in mine and I instantly relaxed, able to squeeze back if nothing else, but it hurt when I did it and the darkness threatened to come back with the pain. The voice, the scent, the touch, I knew it was him; everything else could come back as it wanted to, this was enough for me to know he was here, he was safe.
I heard beeps somewhere, too, and I couldn’t place it, but they had been faster when I called for him and then regulated when he touched me. That was a good thing. Not sure exactly how I knew that, but it was a good thing and I was certain of it.
I felt my brain come a bit more online as Jack spoke, low soothing words, a cadence and tone I knew well. Jack’spillow-talk. He was too far away, though.
“Closer,” I whispered, and suddenly his familiar weight was beside my hip. I think that word actually sounded like the one I intended to say.
His hand was so warm, I wanted to crawl in it, but I was having a difficult time opening my eyes to see him, to make him get closer.
“Baby, you are shaking,” he whispered, the first thing my newly-coming online brain could process, then of course, the cold. I was shaking, and I was freezing.
I heard Jack talk to someone else, and suddenly there was a large hand at my forehead. Bannon. That was his name.
“It’s the ketamine,” I heard Bannon say in his deep voice.
“Ketamine?” I asked. “Fuck,” I muttered, because it made me shaky from being sweaty and cold and that was the easy part of it. Why the hell had someone given me ketamine and why hadn’t they used something to cut the side effects?
“It’s okay, baby,” Jack said, running a palm over my sweaty skin.
“Up?” I hope I asked; I needed to sit up. I couldn’t open my eyes, and I couldn't move my arms, slowly I felt myself get righted, and suddenly Jack was close, right there, near me.
His forehead dropped to mine, and I could feel warm kisses over my face. A warm blanket replaced the ones I sweated through, and I heard Jack tell someone thank you.
Suddenly, everything came online at once, and I clutched the best I could at Jack’s hand.
“I can touch you?” I asked, afraid of the answer. I wanted to touch him, his face, his chest.
Jack lifted my hand to his face, carefully, and his forehead didn’t leave mine. My hand was in some sort of brace, so I could just trace him with my fingertips.
“You can touch me all you want, P,” he said. “What hurts, baby?” he mused against my skin.
“Everything, I think,” I confessed. “But I can’t really feel it.” I paused to take stock of my body. “What’s - what’s wrong with my ribs - my hand? Are my eyes swollen?” I asked, able to identify those areas of pain under the dull ache.
Jack kissed me lightly on the lips, and I heard other voices.
“Arm’s broken. Ribs are fractured,” he said, steadily.
“Does my face look like shit?” I asked, remembering bits and pieces of what had happened. The likely reason my eyes seemed too heavy to open.
“You look beautiful to me, P,” Jack said. “I’m so sorry, Perrin. I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t protect you, I . . ..”
Jack stopped when I started moving my head back and forth against his forehead. It wasn’t his job to protect me or stop anything. Why would he be doing that at all? My brain was too fuzzy to make sense of anything.
“No apologies,” I reminded him.
I could tell someone else entered the room then, and Jack moved his forehead to the side to look at whomever it was, but didn’t break our connection.
I felt a gentle but large hand on my shoulder. “It’s done, Perrin. It’s over. We have everything we need,” a deep, but kind voice said.
“Bish?” I asked.“It’s done - over?. . . tell me again, tell me it’s done,” I said, needing to hear it one more time.
“It is. I just wanted to tell you that so you didn’t worry. Jack’s family is here, but, if you don’t mind me handling it . . .” His voice trailed off, and I couldn’t place the tone he had in it, I didn’t know him well enough. “Davis is in Denver, being held in a federal facility.” Bishop finished. “He’s already booked.”
