He tucked her hair behind her ears. He remembered his own recovery. While not involving brain trauma, it had still been long and hard and he expected that to be a walk in the park compared to Mac’s journey. “I know, sweetie. Me too.”
The next morning, Mac’s eyes were open when they walked into the cubicle. Mac hadn’t been on the respirator in over a week, and Sully choked back a sob when he saw Mac’s sweet brown eyes staring into space.
He leaned over the bed and pressed a kiss to his lips, then whispered in his ear. “I’m ordering you to come back to me, slave.
Our life is empty without you.”
Clarisse took up her position next to the bed on Mac’s left side.
She laced her fingers through his hand and waited.
Mac would blink on occasion. He closed his eyes again around ten that morning. Sully didn’t try to push Clarisse’s limits at lunchtime.
He left her with Mac and went downstairs to eat. He brought her back a sandwich and a bottle of juice, which she reluctantly ate without too much prodding. At four, when the nurse checked Mac’s vital signs, he opened his eyes again.
Sully watched Clarisse’s hopeful look. He’d finally found a comfy position in the hospital recliner chair he occupied. He could watch Mac’s face without moving and twisting his already sore leg any more than necessary.
Then Mac’s eyes shifted position, falling on Sully and staying there.
Sully’s heart seized. There was something…there. Or was he deluding himself with wishful thinking?
After several minutes, Mac’s gaze still hadn’t left Sully. The nurse left. Not wanting to get Clarisse’s hopes up, he said, “Sweetie, my leg is killing me. Can you run down to the gift shop and get me some Tylenol or something and a cup of coffee?”
“Okay.” She stepped around the bed and kissed Sully before leaving.
Sully watched Mac’s eyes shift, following her departure before they returned to him. With his heart pounding in his chest, he leaned forward and clasped Mac’s hand. “Brant?”
Mac stared at him, then slowly blinked twice.
Sully choked back his own tears. “Blink again, two times.”
He did.
Sully looked around, saw the nurse was tending to another patient.
Sully leaned even closer, brushed Mac’s hair away from his face and left his hand on Mac’s cheek. “Once for no, twice for yes. Answer me this. Do I call you my pet?”
One blink.
Gripping Mac’s hand a little harder, he smiled. “Are you my slave?”
Mac blinked twice.
Sully’s composure shattered as he dropped his forehead to the bed and sobbed. That’s where Clarisse found him five minutes later.
The neurologist came in and spent an hour evaluating Mac while Sully and Clarisse huddled in the waiting room. When the doctor finished, he found them there and sat with them, a smile on his face.
“This is good. Very good. He’s showing a lot of improvement, the brain scan shows cognitive function. He’s also responding appropriately to yes-and-no questions. We’ve talked about this. He’s going to need therapy and lots of it. He might have issues with his verbal and motor skills. He might have memory or cognitive impairment. But this is a step in the right direction.”
Sully clutched Clarisse to him and cried with her as they celebrated the news.
For the next week, Mac didn’t make drastic improvements. He did start following them more with his eyes, and if questions were kept to yes and no, he could hold very simple conversations. Slowly, he regained a little control of his hands, could squeeze when told to.
Sometimes he rotated his hand for yes, shook it a little for no.
Seeing the familiar gesture made Clarisse and Sully smile.
Sully sat alone with him one afternoon, having sent Clarisse to the apartment to eat and nap. He would sit and stare at Mac with his fingers laced through Mac’s. Mac had drifted in and out of consciousness all day, occasionally squeezing Sully’s hand or responding to comments. The nurse had checked Mac’s vitals and left Sully with Mac’s afternoon feeding dose. Sully and Clarisse had learned how to feed Mac through his feeding tube and insisted on being the ones to do it when they were present.
Sully stood and washed his hands, then hooked up the feeding syringe. He smiled at Mac. “Ready for chow time?”
Sully didn’t think he imagined the sudden tilt to Mac’s mouth.
Sully laid the syringe on the sheet and leaned in close. “Brant?”
Mac’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “…ssster.”
“What?”
Then Mac’s mouth opened and he slowly licked his chapped lips.
They coated them with lip balm several times a day, but some dryness still occurred. “Yesss, Massster,” he breathed. Then his lips returned to the faint smile, obviously proud of himself.
Stunned, Sully didn’t process what Mac had said for a moment.
He whooped with joy and grinned. “Son of a bitch! Please tell me you said what I think you said.”
Mac’s smile widened a little and he blinked twice.
Yes.
Sully’s eyes filled with tears as he started the feeding process.
“Jesus, Brant, that was the best sound I think I’ve ever heard in my life.”
Mac dozed during the feeding, but he opened his eyes when he heard Clarisse arrive. The faint smile returned to his face.
Sully noticed his look and grinned, stopping Clarisse in her tracks.
“What?” she asked.
He looked at Mac. “You want to try again?”
Yes.
Sully grinned even wider. “Honey, lean in close.”
She did, and Mac licked his lips. “Pet.”
She gasped as her eyes widened, then filled with tears. “Oh, Brant!”
Mac smiled.
“He said it, all right,” Sully said, beaming. He glanced around to make sure the nurse wasn’t close by and leaned across the bed. “I asked him earlier if he was ready for his lunch and he said, ‘Yes, Master.’” Her hand flew to her mouth as she tried and failed to choke back her sob.
Mac watched as she leaned in and kissed him. “Sir, I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered.
A tear rolled down Mac’s face. He blinked.
Yes.
He could speak in short, simple sentences by the end of the next week. It was both a difficult physical effort for him, as well as a troubling mental one, Sully observed. Mac had problems finding, much less saying, the right words. He still used the blinking system, and shaking or rotating his wrist for yes or no. He also used his familiar eyebrow arch to indicate a question instead of speaking at times. A speech therapist came in to work with him, as did occupational and physical therapists. The next week, he was moved to a rehab facility a couple of blocks from the hospital, still within walking distance of the apartment.
After a month there, he’d regained some of his gross motor skills, enough Clarisse and Sully could take him “home” to the apartment.
Mac didn’t remember the attack, and he hadn’t asked what happened.
Sully decided that story could wait until later, if it ever needed to be told at all.
With Mac decidedly on the mend, Clarisse’s mood greatly improved. The nightmares that plagued her after the shooting disappeared almost overnight once Mac was safely back with them.
Their first night together following the attack, Sully and Clarisse snuggled tightly against Mac, with him firmly sandwiched between them.
The next morning, Clarisse left to pick up Bart from Tad and bring him to the apartment. Sully was dressing Mac and getting him ready for his daily therapy appointments.
Mac still didn’t talk much, even though he could. Sully suspected it was an exhausting effort for him. His voice sounded weak, almost forced, nothing like its former rich tone.