Through the Fears

The blood tests didn't end up coming back until almost 48 hours later. By then, I was given the ok to have real food and something other than water to drink.

My only company was that of Mendes and someone who came to replace him at some point. They just lurked in my room or outside of it, much to both my and the nursing staff's chagrin.

I was brought some magazines from the waiting room to keep myself entertained, at least. Mostly, though, I just did a lot of sleeping.

Thanks to the drugs, I didn't dream much.

That was something I was looking forward to even less than seeing my parents. The nightmares. One thing at a time, though.

Would my parents be mad, or just glad to know that I was alive? Probably both, knowing them.

I was afraid that Kristie or Alan wouldn't be with them. I didn't know if they'd bring my siblings, but I hoped to at least learn they had been home safe the entire time.

Not on that ship . . .

Though I tried not to think about it too much, my apprehension only grew when I was cleared for my own room. At the very least, I wouldn't have to look at these people in their creepy suits anymore.

A lot of my time in silence was spent wondering what Wolf was doing. If he was going to be able to call for a rescue or something with Brutus.

What kind of range did those wrist computers have?

Would they be able to sneak back on board their ship and jerry-rig an array so they could send out an SOS to their people?

Most of all, I wondered if I'd see him again. If he'd come for me. If this mark made me his property or something and he'd come to collect.

I didn't know what I wanted. I was safe, clean, and warm now, even if it meant having to face up to what I did.

Before I was moved, though, I had been cleared for surgery—from the higher-ups and my parents, I guessed. The doctors had not been shy about expressing their displeasure for the run-around they were being given.

The longer they waited, the more work they'd have to do during the surgery to fix what had started to heal improperly.

As soon as they got the okay, though, I was rushed to the OR and put under.

There wasn't much I remembered after that. I could barely even recall what they'd told me before they'd started. When I came back from anesthesia, I was in a much different room.

For starters, the walls weren't white, but more of an off-white eggshell. There were a couple of scenic paintings hanging up on the walls. Next to my bed was a window, but all I could see was the floor next to me, covered in gravel and sporting a single AC unit.

Still, now I could tell that it was sometime during the day. I'd all but lost my sense of time in that quarantine tent.

Best of all, though, was the fact that there was a TV up in the corner and a remote at the table next to me. Finally, something to look at other than the screens and Mendes' face.

Oh, wait.

He was there, too.

"You're awake." He said it as if I couldn't tell for myself.

Apparently, he'd switched back into his shift of watching me. The guy's name who he kept switching with was lost in the wind to me.

All I answered him with was a groggy hum.

"I'll let them know."

To my surprise, he stood up and left, closing the door behind him. I'd never known him or his shift partner to leave me alone in a room without at least him or the doctors. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd managed to finagle his way into the operating room.

I watched the door for a moment, then leaned my head back and took a few deep breaths. My ribs felt a lot better, and they'd told me I hadn't straight up broken any.

A small hairline fracture on some of them and several bruises, but I didn't have the same amount of discomfort breathing as I had before.

There was a dull ache in my legs, leftover from the preliminary surgery. Apparently I had more to look forward too.

And skin grafts.

GREAT.

One of the details I was fuzzy on was what exactly they'd done. I'd seen the x-rays, so I knew my femur had broken pretty cleanly with only minor splintering, but my knee had been basically shattered.

At some point, they were sure to go over it with me again. I couldn't remember much of anything.

By the time the door opened again, I had managed to sober up enough to turn on the TV and find a station playing Spongebob.

It was nice and mindless—good since I wasn't able to fully focus on anything to understand a real plot.

Plus, I fucking loved Spongebob.

When the latch clicked, I looked over expecting to see Mendes and a doctor, but it wasn't him.

It was my parents.

"Nichole? Nichole!"

The tears came before I could stop them. I didn't even care that Mendes was there to see me, hanging out in the back and waiting to come inside.

If my legs weren't broken and if I hadn't been getting fluids intravenously, I would have stumbled from the bed. As it was, though, I couldn't move. I could only lift my arms and choke out a sob.

Of all the scenarios I'd played over in my head, after all the dreading and stressing, I couldn't deny that I was so happy to see her.

"Momma!" I cried.

She came flying across the room and practically collapsed on top of me. Her arms engulfed me and I sank greedily into her. She was already in tears and I let myself break down.

There was no reason for me to be brave anymore. The danger was gone and my parents were here to be brave for me.

The bed sunk as my dad sat next to us and I groped with my good hand for him until I felt his calloused fingers squeeze my own. My mom and I babbled incoherently through the bawling.

For the first time in the past few days, my defenses came crumbling down and I allowed myself to feel vulnerable.

"It's ok, sweetie," Mom cooed into my ear. "Momma's here. You don't have to worry anymore."

"I was so scared," I blubbered.

She held me tighter and the doctor gave us several minutes to just exist in that moment before they came back in and softly addressed us.

"Excuse me, folks . . . I'm sorry to interrupt but we have a lot to go over," the doctor said, giving us her best apologetic smile.

My parents pulled away and Mom said, "Yes, of course. Go ahead."

She and I took a moment to gather ourselves, then we listened.

The doctor in charge of my care checked my files and dove right in. "Her first surgery went well. We'll need to keep her for observation . . ."

I tuned out. Everything they were going to tell my parents they had probably already told me. All I wanted was to sit there and be held by my mom, not thinking about anything.

Not worrying about anything.

I'd worried enough. It was someone else's turn.

". . . another few days, maybe."

Mom moved off my bed to sit in a real chair, but she was still close. I turned and held her hand, wondering just how much longer I was going to have to be in there. How long exactly was a few days?

I wanted to go home.

My doctor continued, answering some question Mom asked. "No, I'm afraid not . . ."

I was only half paying attention, lost in my thoughts. Fantasizing about a Big Mac and trying to forget about what was going on around me. The bad news being delivered.

". . . to do something about that burn and . . ."

Mom squeezed my hand reassuringly, but I didn't open my eyes.

Dad was standing at her shoulder, his hand resting on my extra-thick pillow. "How much will all of this cost? Will our insurance handle most of it?"

I winced. This would all be terribly expensive, wouldn't it? Maybe a funeral would have been cheaper. I opened my eyes and stared at the wall, now keen to listen in.

Mom shot him a sour look. "That's hardly what matters. She's alive and going to come home with us in a few days."

He rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut.

The government's doctor looked about as tired as I felt, but if the lines under her eyes and thin lips were any indication, she probably always looked exhausted. Her graying red hair was drawn up in a ponytail so tight that I thought her scalp was going to split open.

Earlier, she'd introduced herself as Allison Kendrick, general surgeon.

"The government is going to pay for any and all procedures, Mr. Shain, so you don't need to worry. Surgery, hospital costs, physical therapy, even her counseling. Anything she might need," Dr. Kendrick said.

"That's awfully nice of them," Mom said while petting my head.

/So long as I keep my mouth shut,/ I thought bitterly, not looking up at anyone.

But, I was glad. At least it was one less thing my parents would have heaped on their plate.

"It's the government's way of apologizing for this accident. The man who was here earlier can, and probably will, tell you more," Dr. Kendrick explained.

Or deflected, rather.

"Will she need to be transferred to a government facility?" asked my dad.

/Please say no, please say no . . ./

"No," said Dr. Kendrick with a shake of her head.

Another sigh of relief.

She took one of her hands out of her pocket long enough to scratch her collarbone before continuing. "We can do it all right here so she's close to home. That way she doesn't have to stay at a facility until she's better."

/Oh thank the lord./ I didn't want to go anywhere but home. At least there was finally something going right for me.

"Doesn't that put you out?" Mom asked.

"I'll be fine. I'm used to being relocated. It's Nichole's comfort we're worried about. Now," Dr. Kendrick said, stepping away from the door. "I'm sure that the nice man outside will want to have a word with you two, and I'd like a couple minutes to talk with my patient alone."

"Why?"

I closed my eyes and grimaced at my mom's agitation.

The doctor glanced at me and took a breath. "I need to go over some sensitive subjects with her and usually it's easier if the parents aren't present."

/Like the subject of aliens./

"What? No!" Mom's protest made me roll my eyes. She grabbed my arm with her other hand. "I don't want her out of my sights for one more minute."

"Tamara . . . ," Dad warned her.

"No! I just got her back! I'm not leaving my baby."

I was just going to ignore the fact that they probably hadn't known I went missing until they received the phone call that I was found. Whichever had come first.

Resigned, I sat up and let go of her. I was still sniffling from my sob session moments ago. "I'll be fine, Mom, really."

She looked at me for a moment, torn. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," I muttered. It wasn't like I hadn't already been alone with them for almost three days now.

However, I was so ready to be done with all this.

For a long while, all she did was stare at me. Eventually, though, she dragged herself to her feet.

Of course, she had to draw it out as long as possible by fussing with my blankets and pillow. "I'll be right outside the door. Just yell if you need me, okay?"

I nodded, but she still busied herself for a couple of precious seconds by handing over a fox stuffy she'd brought me from home, one she'd bought for me from the Denver Zoo years ago.

"Thank you," I said, taking it and tucking it into my arms.

"Of course, sweetie. I'll be back." Finally, with a huff, she tore herself away from my bedside and let Dad escort her out of the room.

Dr. Kendrick waited for a few heartbeats after the door closed, then took a seat next to my bed in one of the chairs.

Eyes back on my lap, I asked, "Am I really never going to play soccer again?"

Dr. Kendrick took a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap. "I'm afraid so, Ms. Shain. Chances are you'll walk with a permanent limp, even after therapy."

Sighing, I leaned my head against my pillow. At least she was honest.

"You broke your legs in a fall, right?"

Lips pursed, I said. "Um, I jumped and umbled down a hill. I think I hit my knee on something."

Dr. Kendrick scratched a spot above her eyebrow and said, "Yes, that would have done it."

Silence fell between us as she scribbled her notes, then I glanced around and asked, "Where's that necklace you guys found on me?"

"I wouldn't know," she replied, not unkindly. "If you tell me what it looks like I could try to have it found and returned to you. Why did they take it from you in the first place?"

"Um . . . well, I don't know. Never mind, it's not important," I muttered, wringing my hands.

The doctor put the clipboard down on her lap, expression confused. "It seems like it's important. I don't mind asking after it, or you can ask Mendes."

I shifted the way I was sitting, trying to make myself comfortable. "Yeah, it's fine. I just . . . was wondering if they found it or if I lost it."

Maybe I didn't fully appreciate it, but that macabre necklace had been a gift from Wolf. I would have liked it back, if only as a token to remember him by. He had gone through all of that trouble and now the government probably had it.

Absently, I rubbed my wrist where the mark was. At least there was that.

Dr. Kendrick sighed and nodded. "Okay. If they did find it, I'm sure they'll return it to you when they can."

"Maybe." I knew full well they wouldn't.

Surprisingly enough, she didn't ask anything further about it. Instead, she posed a few more general questions about my health, but I knew that couldn't have been the only questions she wanted to ask.

It seemed like she was trying to lead up to something, so I patiently waited and answered her inane inquiries until she got to the point.

"Did you sustain most of your injuries by fighting off the parasite aliens?"

Sighing, I leaned against the hand that wasn't in a brace and blinked slowly at my doctor. "Yeah, most of them. Except for my legs. That was me escaping the ship when it fell down the mountain."

She set the clipboard down on her lap and folded her hands on top of it. "Alright, Miss Shain. Before your parents come back, I'd like to go over what you can expect in the coming months."

"Okay." I assumed that I could already guess.

"You'll probably be interviewed later by the FBI, though I've told them to give you a week to recover more before that," she announced.

Oh great, so Mulder and Skully were going to give me the third degree eventually.

"Around that time," she continued, "you'll be confined to minimal activity, and you'll have to wear that brace on your leg for a while on top of using crutches."

"When does my physical therapy start?"

"Not for a while. The bone needs to heal first and you'll require a few more surgeries on that knee. Our goal is to get you to the point where any permanent damage is minimal, but still no competitive sports." She tacked that last bit on to stress the fact.

I sighed. "At least some exercise, though?"

Dr. Kendrick nodded. "Yes. We're trying hard to at least get you to the point where you can go for walks or runs and still exercise if you want."

Well, it was better than living as an invalid for the rest of my life.

"Your interviews will likely begin around the same time as your counseling sessions," Dr. Kendrick added.

My face fell and she reached out to pat the back of my hand. "You're not in trouble, Miss Shain. You're not being interrogated, okay? No one is angry with you."

All I could do was nod. I didn't much feel like talking anymore.

"As a minor you'd normally be able to have a parent with you if you wanted, but they won't allow that," she said with a grimace.

Lips pursed, I said, "Can't let my mom and dad know about the aliens."

"Yes, unfortunately not. So, when you go for your interviews, your appointed therapist will be there and act as your guardian."

"Okay."

"That will also be completely covered, nothing out of pocket. You'll obviously need to see someone to deal with the trauma and it'll be good for your healing, too."

"An alien encounter therapist?" I asked.

She smiled. "Kind of, yes. I'm not sure who they'll pick, but they'll be well-versed in how to handle your particular incident."

That news perked me up a little bit, but I remained guarded. "Will the same privacy laws apply there? Will I be able to tell this therapist whatever I want without them reporting it?"

Dr. Kendrick's chuckled and said, "Unless the information you give them is a threat to national security, your health, or someone else's, yes. You'll be given the same privacy rights as any other patient. "

Though pleased, I wasn't sure I felt it was my place to talk about Wolf no matter how much I really needed to.

Maybe it wouldn't quite be betraying him if I spoke to someone who wasn't going to be relaying all of it to the government. I doubted I had enough information to help them track him down, anyway, but I felt like I was tattling.

I really hoped he was okay. We didn't really get to part on ideal terms.

"What do I need to do until then?"

"Until then, you can get some sleep and focus on healing," she stated matter-of-factly, standing up. "Before you're discharged, someone will likely be by to discuss the cover story with you."

I felt the color drain from my face. "What do you mean?"

Dr. Kendrick took one last look at my clipboard, took the top sheet with her notes and tucked them into her pocket, then hooked the chart to the end of my bed and let it dangle.

"I mean what you're going to need something to tell the press," she said. "Something to tell your family and your schoolmates. I'm sure my employers are crafting a nice story for you right now."

/Oh. Right. Can't go around shouting about aliens, can I?/

In a small voice I repeated, "The press?"

Her warm expression faded into something grave and she looked away from me. "You are the only person to come out of that forest alive who saw what really happened. The others we've talked to only saw shadows and mistook them for wolves or cougars."

"You, on the other hand, were missing the entire night along with a couple dozen others. The media will want to ask you some questions," she finished.

Just what I always wanted.

I couldn't help but think that if Michelle were here instead of me, she would have been pretty happy to hear that.

"Get some rest now, Miss Shain. You've earned it, and you'll need it when I come back to treat that burn" she bade, smiling at me.

I returned the gesture and she left the room, clipping on her heels. My parents piled in the room after she was gone and Mom started fussing over me all over again.

It wasn't until the nurse came and forced them away that I was able to sleep again. I still had the skin graft to do first thing in the morning, and then after a few more days of observation, I'd be able to go home.

Home . . . I never thought I'd see it again.