IN THE WEEKS following Father Damien sat by his nephew's bedside anytime [sic] he could, often holding his hand and talking softly. So far Damien showed no signs of regaining consciousness; he only lay there, breathing in and out slowly, the monitor beside him beeping steadily. He was on life support, the accident had been so bad. But at least they'd moved him down to serious condition. That was better than critical, which was exactly what he'd been in when first brought there. The oxygen mask had still been affixed to his face for a while as several of his ribs had been broken, and they were still watching for any signs of a punctured lung or internal hemorrhaging. However, now it had been replaced by two tubes going into his nose, which looked even worse to Father Damien. His left leg was in a cast and his arms, head, and other leg were bandaged for cuts he'd sustained; the worst had been on his arms, when perhaps he'd been holding them up to shield his face from the shattering glass. [Note--change of events--in the newest version, Damien suffers no broken leg; but his arms are positively shattered.] He looked to be merely asleep aside from all that, and Father Damien did his best to convince himself so, that it was just a peaceful sleep, and he'd wake up anytime [sic] soon, but he kept having thoughts of what it would be like for him. He knew Damien had nightmares almost constantly; what if he was having them now, and couldn't wake up? Couldn't someone die from having a bad dream? But he'd shove those thoughts out and continue talking with him, knowing he'd have to wake up sometime. After all, he was still alive, wasn't he? There had to be some purpose behind that.
One crazy thought kept going through his head. He'd been wearing his seatbelt. Of course he had. He may have been a reckless driver but he wasn't stupid. Then how come all this had happened?
He also thought of the charred, blackened sight of the mangled Lamborghini, barely anything of it remaining except a pathetic ruined shell. The sight had chilled him. He prayed the same thing hadn't happened to Damien. And then he would wonder what would have been different had the bomb gotten him first, instead of whoever forced him off the road.
As for who did that, he had no question. He didn't know the person specifically. But he knew who they were, to what they belonged and why they wanted Damien dead. His heart pounded when he realized how close they'd gotten to getting their wish. Then he would lay his head upon his nephew's chest and listen to his heart beating, to remind himself that he was still there, was still alive.
Alive.
Another thought surfaced. Who else he knew was alive? Still alive? He'd been getting word, through various sources, that she was still alive. The idea was both wonderful and terrifying. She could still be alive. But after all she must have gone through, was that such a good thing after all? He knew, for a fact, that he wouldn't want to be alive.
He shook his head, trying to force out such thoughts. Staying up nights with no food or sleep was starting to make him delirious. He clasped Damien's hand in his own, the one that wasn't bandaged, and after a while could swear he felt his own hand clasped back. He raised his head and looked into his nephew's face. For a long while there was nothing to see; he began to feel foolish yet kept staring nonetheless. But finally, very slowly, Damien's eyes fluttered open. Father Damien sat up.
"Damien," he whispered. The eyes, glowing faintly golden in the sunlight, turned his way. He smiled as he saw recognition in them, and reached out again to touch his arm. As soon as he did so Damien coughed softly and looked back up at him.
"I'm still here," Father Damien said.
It hurt him to see his beloved nephew like this. Every breath Damien took was painful, and he could tell. Right now Damien attempted to move slightly so he could get a better look at his uncle, and he winced. Father Damien frowned and took his hand again, worried. But Damien smiled up at him faintly, dispelling any qualms he still had.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Like I've been steam pressed," Damien managed to croak. Father Damien laughed softly and squeezed his hand.
"For a while there we thought you might not make it."
The singer smiled again. Father Damien had the feeling he wouldn't be singing for quite a while, though. Or driving, either. "Don't underestimate me, Uncle. I've been shot, kicked, and stabbed before; have I died yet?" And he let out a weak laugh, which quickly turned into a spasm of coughing. Father Damien placed his free hand on his nephew's chest.
"Take it easy," he said. "Try not to get too riled up. The doctors don't want your ribs moving around in there. You're dangerously close to getting a punctured lung."
"So that's what that is," Damien wheezed, laying his head back down. "My ribs. How many are broken, anyway? Feels like my chest's on fire."
"I believe they said three. So don't overexert yourself any. You don't want to be in here forever, do you?"
"I suppose not," Damien grinned, then he sighed and closed his eyes. He remained that way for so long that the priest began to think he had fallen asleep; but then he opened them and looked back up at him. The expression on his face was no longer so pleasant. Father Damien shifted uneasily in his chair.
"How close was I?" he asked.
Father Damien looked at him, puzzled. "How close to what?"
"To dying."
Father Damien sat back, letting Damien's hand fall. How could he say this? "Too close.... You did die, Damien. You were gone for over nine minutes. Then your heart started up again on its own."
For a while Damien stared at him, not looking happy or angry, just studying him. After a time he said, "I'm not going crazy, am I, Uncle?"
Father Damien frowned. "Why do you ask?"
"Just tell me I'm not going crazy."
"You're not, Damien. Not so far as I know. Why? What's wrong?"
Damien smiled and turned away. "I don't know--but I really thought I was starting to lose it for a while there. It must've been that anesthesia they give you. Were they giving me any drugs before I--well--before I--you know?" He looked back at him, almost imploring.
The priest was the one to study him now. "I don't know, Damien. Maybe. You were messed up pretty bad when they brought you in."
"Tell me about it. I looked like crap," Damien said, then, realizing what he'd said, quickly fell silent again. But Father Damien leaned forward, his face growing slightly alarmed.
"What did you say, Damien? You saw--? But how could you know?"
Damien looked at him again, strained. "I don't...I don't know, Uncle. I don't know how to answer that. But I did." He reached out and grasped his uncle's hand, looking suddenly very frail and childlike upon the bed. "That's why I thought I was losing it. I saw myself. Like I was looking in a mirror, kind of--only more like watching T. V.. [Note--double period intentional. I used to spell "TV" with periods, and at the end of a sentence with such acronyms would add the additional sentence-ending punctuation. Now I usually spell acronyms without any periods--such as "US" for "United States," and even "DJ" for "Dorinda Jane" (as in Broderick, from Sidekicks).] I don't know--I can't explain it--" He let go and fell back, tears welling up in his eyes.
"What did you see, Damien?" his uncle prompted gently.
Silence. Then, "Myself. All the time I saw myself. Except once. I saw Harvey and Ez. They were crying. And Kat. She sat down on the floor. Puck was there too. I've never seen him so mad." A faint smile. "And there was this nurse, this frazzled looking nurse you were talking to, and two cops.... They were trying to calm Kat down. I wanted to calm her down too but I couldn't talk to her."
"Why not?"
Damien frowned now, trying very hard to keep his voice from rising from the strain. "Something was pulling me. I don't know. I couldn't talk to anyone. The doctor, I tried to touch him but I--my hand went right through him, just like a ghost!" He turned to Father Damien now, looking panicked. "Something pulled me up into the ceiling. I--I was moving really fast, somehow.... It was all dark; I sort of turned around, you know? And there was this little light in front of me. God, I sound crazy."
"No, you don't. Keep going. Tell me what you saw."
"It was just--a tunnel or something," Damien said. "Like going underground or through a tunnel on a train or something. This light was getting brighter. I saw all these things around me--they were all me, but I was different--I was younger--it was everything I ever did. I saw it going on all around me. Tell me, am I going nuts?"
"No, you're not. Keep going."
"Well...then this--this light was all around me. And I saw--I saw--" He faltered, tears brimming in his eyes and streaming unheeded down his face. "Oh God, I saw her. She was there. They were all there."
"Who, Damien? Who was there?"
[Note--minor spoiler for D Is For Damien coming up.] "Lilu." Damien closed his eyes and sobbed silently. "I saw her. Like she'd never been--and--God, this is crazy, but I saw Morris too. You remember Morris, don't you? He was shot--by Scorpio--the summer of 1990--"
"I remember. Go on."
"And everybody I don't remember. Like--my grandparents. I saw them! And I've never seen them before! How do I know what they look like? But they came right up to me. And Lilu was right in front. And--and she smiled at me."
Father Damien was silent. He could think of nothing to say. And even if he could have he wouldn't have said it, not now. So he simply nodded for Damien to continue.
"She took my hands," Damien said, "and it was like she was alive. She was warm and all full of light--and I couldn't even say hello, or how are you doing, or where am I, or anything. She just smiled at me and said, 'It's not time yet, Damien. You're still needed. Go back. Go home.' And then she let go--and I was falling--and I tried to call out to her but there was this wind blowing up all around me from below and I don't think she could hear me. And there was all this blackness as I fell, and I just screamed and screamed and no sound came out and--"
A long pause. "And then what, Damien?"
"A pain," Damien replied. "This sharp stabbing pain. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see or say anything. There was a beep-beep-beep noise in my head. I couldn't move anything, I was frozen. And these voices, all yelling at each other but I couldn't understand what they were saying. And then blackness again."
Father Damien sat back, unspeaking. Damien likewise said nothing, still too shocked by what he remembered to speak.
"You really believe you saw all this, Damien?" he finally asked softly.
Damien turned his head and looked up at him. "I don't believe I saw it, Uncle, I know I saw it. But how could I? How could I have seen it?"
Father Damien responded by taking his nephew's hand in his own and pressing it lightly. "I don't know, Damien," he admitted. "I really don't know." [Note--none of this part of the scene takes place in the rewrite, as you've noticed. By now, I think Damien did have kind of an "out-of-body experience" (as in seeing himself from above), but all the detail involving Lilu and Morris etc., I don't think that happens in the newest version. I just dislike the thought of him having so much closure. Plus it's tacky. I mean, a tunnel of light? *pff*]
It was a long time before he was allowed home; Father Damien kept it a secret from the kids and the others at the "coven," wanting it to be a surprise. Damien's leg was still in a cast, as well as bandages still on his arms while his cuts healed. [Note--in the newest version (unwritten, BTW), Damien's legs are intact, but he has to wear braces on his wrists for quite a while, and keep his ribs wrapped. His cuts would have been healed by now.] Father Damien kept reminding him not to overexert himself because of his ribs; the doctors suggested letting them heal on their own, but they could only do so if he didn't move around so much. Damien sighed and groaned and carried on, but Father Damien could tell it was just a put-on to reassure him his humor was still intact, if not his ribcage. The priest was also sure not to tell him about the surprise that awaited him back at home. [Note--in the newest version, Damien in fact leaves rather in secret (with his family's and police and hospital knowledge), so the press can't mob him.]
He drove Damien home in his station wagon; Damien said little on the way there, just staring out the window at the landscape passing by. Father Damien didn't mind. Just having him there, having him alive and whole, was enough.
As soon as they got home Damien got out as fast as his condition would let him--which was just a medium pace--and went inside. Luckily for him the door wasn't locked; they kept a key under the doormat (a pretty likely place, but then again Cheboygan wasn't exactly the crime capital of the world), and he knew that if Damien tried to bend over that far, which he probably would, he'd more than likely bust a lung--literally. Either that or he'd try to break down the door, and that wasn't a very good alternative either. [Note--why would he try to break down a door--when he can easily PICK THE LOCK? THAT'S more Dami's style!]
Father Damien entered behind him as Damien stepped into the parlor. "Guess who's coming to dinner?" he announced.
Harvey and Esmeralda's heads shot up from the boardgame they were playing. [Note--I believe it should be "Harvey's and Esmeralda's."] Instantly their faces were bright enough to light up the whole room. "Damien!" they cried, jumping up and throwing their arms around him. [Note--notice how Harvey and Ez never age throughout the series? Seriously. They should be in their mid-teens by the time this story takes place! I think they gain ONE year between the first two novels...and then stay stuck that way. Er...I can't explain it. I should really turn them into teens for the newest books in the series though. *is thoughtful*]
Damien staggered back momentarily, wheezing as the breath was knocked out of him, and bent down, putting out his broken leg in front of him, so they didn't have to jump. "Easy, easy!" he half-laughed, half-gasped. "I'm still a little beat up."
"What did they do to you there?" Ez asked, backing away slightly to look at his bandages. Harvey started to examine his cast.
"First, they took out all my guts and put them in a big metal pan," Damien said.
"Come on!"
"No, it's true. Then they looked them all over with magnifying glasses. You know, to make sure everything was all right."
"You're lying!"
"No I'm not. Then they scooped them all up, and plopped them back inside." Damien made a scooping motion which Father Damien was certain must have been painful, considering his bandaged arms; however, Damien managed to hide it well. "But not before they washed them off."
"With soap?"
"Yep. Ordinary hand soap."
"Yeah, right!"
"And then they took out a big needle and sewed me right back up--good as new."
"Ew, yuck!" the kids retorted.
"Did it hurt?" Harvey asked. He poked Damien in the ribs before Father Damien could tell him not to do so; Damien winced slightly.
"Of course. Does it hurt when I do this?" Damien instantly scooped up Harvey by the legs and held him dangling in the air. Father Damien fought back an urge to tell him to settle down before he ruptured something.
Harvey squealed and Ez laughed at him. "Okay! Okay! Uncle! Uncle!" Harvey screeched.
"You bet I'm your uncle!" But Damien laughed and let Harvey down, twirling him over and setting him back on his feet.
There was a noise from the hallway. Kat came into view. "What in heaven's name is all that--" She cut herself off and stared, dumbfounded, at Damien.
Damien smiled at her faintly. "Hello, Kat."
For a moment she was speechless. Then she, too, cried out and threw herself at him, her arms circling his neck. He hugged her back, closing his eyes and resting his head on her shoulder.
"Damien!" she sobbed. "I thought--I thought you--"
Whatever she'd been meaning to say, it dissolved in midsentence, and she continued crying. Damien rubbed the back of her head, murmuring softly.
"Shh," he said. "It's okay. I'm okay."
"I thought you wouldn't make it." Her voice was muffled; she'd buried her face in his shoulder.
"It's all right," Damien said. Father Damien noticed his eyes peer up slightly at him, and could tell he was smiling. "It's good to be home, Kat," he said. "It's good to be home."
It took quite a while for everyone to get used to the fact that Damien was home; every time someone entered, they'd jump on him. Father Damien finally had to resort to yelling at everybody to keep it down, quit the jumping, the patient was still recovering, thank you very much. Damien only grinned and mocked him behind his back, causing more laughter from the group. However, even he had his limits, and soon insisted on sitting down for a while before his knees fell off.
However, he didn't get to sit very long before Harvey started jumping up and down. "His present! Let's show Dami his present!" he shouted excitedly, and Ez, Cynthia, and Timothy joined in, causing such a ruckus that Damien finally cocked his head and gave another devilish smile to his uncle.
"Present?" he inquired.
Father Damien smiled. "While you were gone, I decided to get you something I thought you'd like."
"Ooo!" Damien said, struggling to get up. Harvey and Ez grabbed his arms and pulled him to his feet. [Note--"OW!!"] "I like the sound of that. Lead the way, Magellan and Magellena."
The two kids practically dragged him outside, the adults and two toddlers following, all laughing and chattering.
Harvey and Ez led him to the garage; Harvey started jumping up and down again.
"You can't look yet until I say so!" he said. "Cover your eyes and no peeking!"
"Oh, all right, all right." Damien put a hand over his eyes, and quickly parted his fingers.
"No peeking!" the kids shouted at him.
Damien laughed and covered his eyes again, this time not looking. Harvey took his arm again, while Ez struggled to open the garage, having to be helped out--albeit grudgingly--by the adults. [Note--I meant that Ez felt grudging, not the adults.]
"Are we there yet?" Damien prodded. "Can I look?"
"Not yet!" Harvey pulled him inside and placed his hand on something smooth. "Okay, feel this and tell me what it is."
Damien put out his hands and touched the smooth surface, his eyes still closed. He frowned, running his hands along the contours of the object in front of him. Feeling his way along the side, his fingers came upon glass--a window. He frowned again, and felt a little further to the right.
Windshield wipers.
"Okay," Harvey said again. "You can open your eyes now."
Damien did so slowly, as if awakening out of a dream. And all he could do was stare at the thing in front of him, stupefied.
It was a car. A sleek red Lamborghini Countach.
He just stared at it, his mouth hanging open. Finally he shut it and turned to the others, trying to speak. But all he could do was wave his hands in the direction of the vehicle.
Father Damien smiled back. "I didn't think you'd be driving your other one anytime [sic] soon," he explained, "so we got you this one. Happy Recovery."
"Happy Recovery," everybody else echoed. [Note--this event doesn't happen in the newest version. In that, Dami merely goes and buys himself a new Lamborghini with his own funds, because honestly, how would a PRIEST afford it?! Also, he buys it in a new color--rather than red, it's like a puce/plum color. I wanted a change of pace.]
Damien stared at him a moment, then returned to inspecting the car. He peered at it closer, then a gasp escaped him. He shot a look back at his uncle.
"This is the 25th Anniversary Edition!" he exclaimed.
Father Damien nodded.
Damien ran his hands over the car, amazed. "Do you have any idea how rare these things are?"
The priest nodded again, and made a face. "Or expensive. I hope you prefer red over yellow, because the yellow ones are murder."
"I do," was all Damien could say. He continued feeling the sleek contours of the car, before he forced himself to look away from it. He managed a smile. "Th...thanks. I mean, I really don't know what to say--"
Father Damien cut him off with a wave of his hand. "You don't have to say anything," he said. "Except that you'll continue to wear your seatbelt."
Damien only stared at him for several moments, then a smile spread across his face. "You bet I will," he said, coming forward and hugging him. "Thanks, Uncle, thanks all of you. I don't know what to say!"
"Say one thing," Kat put in, and Father Damien didn't like the look in her face. It was his job to be the wet blanket. "Say that you won't drive till you're recovered."
Damien rolled his eyes. "Come on, Kat--"
"Say it!"
Damien shrugged and winced, rubbing his shoulder. "All right," he said. "I won't drive till all my bones are mended and all my bruises are gone. Will that make you feel better?"
"Yes," Kat said, hugging him again. "It will."
"One thing," Damien said, breaking away and going to the back of the car. He bent down with some effort, then stood up again and smiled at his uncle. "And who salvaged the license plate?" he said, recognizing his number.
Father Damien smiled back again. "One of the first people at the scene--your lawyer Mr. Temple."
"Temple?" Damien said, and he burst out laughing. "Wow! What was he doing there?"
Father Damien was the one to shrug this time. "He's concerned about you too."
"Yeah! I'm his best client!" Damien laughed again. "No, really, I know he does. If you see him before I do, since I'm not going to be driving anytime [sic] soon--" and he shot a phony reproachful look at Kat, who gave a diabolical grin in return "--tell him thanks. There'll never be a license plate with the rhyme of CRY 105."
"Can we go inside now?" Harvey asked. "Sandy made a turkey!"
Damien rolled his eyes. "What is this, my birthday, or Thanksgiving?" he asked the air. Everybody laughed again and went back inside, chattering and occasionally slapping him on the shoulder. He didn't even bother to tell them that stung.
Everybody had gotten their food and was eating in different parts of the house, talking away. Harvey finished his food and sat at the computer with Ez to type a report for one of his classes; Damien kept prowling around them until Harvey asked what he could do.
"I'd like you to type me something," Damien said. He lifted his bandaged arms. "As you can see I'm not really in any shape to do it myself."
"You can't type anyway, Dami," Harvey said, and the kids giggled. Damien mocked their laughter. "What d'ya want me to type?"
"Some kind of announcement," Damien said. "Here, let me write it down for you." He picked up a pencil and piece of paper and managed to scribble something down. Harvey took it from him and frowned.
"Jeez, Dami," he commented, "you write like a doctor."
"I should. I've been around them long enough. Now type that out for me, and make it look nice; print me out a whole bunch of copies."
"Sure thing!" Pleased to be of service, Harvey immediately quit his report and started working on Damien's "announcement." [Note--I just realized--this story supposedly takes place in summer. So WHY is Harvey working on a school report...?]
As soon as he started printing, Father Damien noticed how long the printer was running and came over to investigate. He ripped off one of the announcements and looked it over, then gaped at Damien. [Note--we used that old continuous-feed paper back then. In fact, this story is printed on it.] "Damien! Are you crazy?"
Damien shrugged. "Beats me, Uncle."
Kat and several of the others came over to look. "'You're invited to an honorary banquet celebrating the recovery of Damien,'" Kat read. "'Please feel free to bring any friends you wish. We'll be meeting at the Graves Building on the campus of Little Rock University in Charlevoix County, MI.' Dami! What the heck is all this about?" [Note--Damien would NEVER throw a party for himself! Yickness! Plus, I have no clue what this "Graves Building" is.]
Damien shrugged again and smiled. "C'mon, you guys. Aren't you glad I'm okay?"
The two began to stammer. "Well, sure--yes--of course--but--"
"Then it's a reason to party! Look at these--I'm going to invite all the people I know. Even cops. Especially cops. 'Cause where would I be without cops?"
"Well, I don't know, but you--"
"Take a look." Damien bent towards them over a crutch he was using, pointing to several envelopes he'd already made out. "'Officer Jones, c/o Michigan State Police District No. 7.' And Brown and Slatinsky. And here--'Police Chief Bowen and Lieutenant Alan Kincaid, c/o Minot North Dakota Police Station.' And anybody else I can think of--"
"But Damien," Kat finally managed to cut in, "you're in no shape to attend a banquet!"
Damien scoffed at her. "Of course I am! It's not like I'm going to be singing up onstage--is it?" He got that look again.
"No," Father Damien reprimanded him. "Even if you could pull off this crazy stunt--"
"Of course I can," Damien retorted. "I'm happy to know these people. I'd like to see them all together in one room. One room! And it's not like it's going to be a mosh pit or anything. I'd like to host a nice, decent, civilized banquet for once. Of course, I can't say so about the music, but--"
"Come on, Damien," Kat sighed. "I think it's time you took a rest. You're getting these insane ideas--"
"Well, maybe they are insane!" Damien replied. "So? Not everything that's insane is bad. Harvey, I want you to search around the house and gather up all the stamps you can find. We're going to need them. And Ez, you get out the squirt bottle, unless you want to be licking envelopes for an hour."
"Yes sir!" the two children said, and dashed off.
"Never mind, never mind," Father Damien sighed, tossing up his arms. Damien smiled at him. "I'll go downtown and buy some stamps. Lord knows we need them." And he disappeared.
Kat watched him go, dumbfounded. She turned back to Damien. "Dami, you really don't think you can pull this off, do you?"
He looked at her, with that annoying innocent look of his. "Why not, Kat? It's been done before."
"Yeah, it's been done. But not by you."
He slapped her on the shoulder. "Well, there's a first time for everything!" he replied, and limped away cheerfully, shuffling his envelopes. "Hey Harvey! I've got a new job for you!" he cried as he disappeared into another room.
Kat was left by herself, everybody else in the house wandering outside to get some air. She sighed, shrugged to heaven, and walked away.
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