Chapter Text
The sun beating on Dennis’ neck was the most familiar feeling to him.
Dennis knelt on the grass in front of a broken fence post. His neighbor, Ms. Anders, had asked him to fix it for her. Her husband had passed away the winter before—a nasty case of pneumonia—so she was trying her best to maintain the farm without him. She was overwhelmed after trying to balance work, taking care of the kids, and the farm. Dennis was happy to help.
He had always been a helpful person. Even in his childhood, he had sought out situations in which he could be useful. He proved his worth by fixing sinks or helping birth animals. If he wasn’t making himself useful, he got as far from people as he could. He’d sit in the barn with the animals or wander around town. There wasn’t much to do, and it’s not like he had many friends to hangout with.
On occasion, he’d go to a party. Usually he was dragged by the ear by his best friend. She claimed that he needed to get out and do something that didn’t involve farming. And she was very firm in his need to get laid. He never did—and especially not at those parties. None of the girls interested him, and parties were too overwhelming to want to hook up.
So he fled from the crowd within an hour of arriving. He drank a cup or two of the mystery punch before disappearing from the crowd. His friend always ended up finding him on the curb or nearest quiet place. Dennis didn’t enjoy parties or crowds like his brothers. He preferred reading or animals.
He fixed a plank of wood in place, nailing it to the main post. He shifted, grass staining his jeans. After giving the wood a strong tug, he patted it and stood up.
Ms. Anders was standing on the deck, a small child clinging to her leg. Dennis wiped his hands off on his jeans and turned on his heels to approach the two of them.
“All finished, miss.” He smiled as he accepted a glass of lemonade from her hand.
“Oh thank you, Dennis.” She clasped her hands together, her smile a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Dennis sipped on his lemonade, grateful for a cold drink on a hot day. He nodded, adjusting the hat on his head.
“It’s no problem. Just give me a shout if you need anything else.” Dennis finished his lemonade and extended the glass to Ms. Anders.
“Are you sure you don’t want any payment?” she asked with a tilt of her head. The child at her side was gazing up at Dennis with wide eyes.
“I’m sure,” Dennis said with a smile. “A broken fence is nothing. Just take care of yourself.”
Ms. Anders looked like he was about to argue, but the look on Dennis’ face made her hesitate. He ended up smiling and nodding slowly.
“Thank you.” She ruffled the hair of the kid clinging to her.
Dennis gave her a curt nod and headed back to the driveway.
As he walked down the street toward his apartment, his mind began to wander.
Dennis was at home on a farm. He was the most comfortable on the back of a horse or tending to the animals. He was happiest while chasing down runaway cows and repairing barns.
Growing up in rural Nebraska trained Dennis for this lifestyle. He spent his childhood sleeping in the barn with newborn sheep and sewing his jeans after tearing them on broken fence posts.
He had never attempted to leave or change. The grass stains on his pants and the stars in the sky comforted him. Sometimes, he wondered what leaving Broken Bow would entail. Would he enjoy living in a city? Would he want to travel the world or sit behind an office desk? How would he survive without grueling labor?
But now, as he walked down the dusty street toward the place he called home, he couldn’t help but imagine a life without Broken Bow. Without all his neighbors and animals.
Dennis walked with his eyes toward the sky. The sun was beginning to set. How odd. He could’ve sworn it was only around five pm. He wondered if there were any leftovers in his fridge.
-
Dennis woke up with a throbbing headache and zero idea of where he was. What he knew was that the mattress underneath him was too soft to be his own; the blanket atop him was thin and soft; there was the hum of a fan in the background; and he was not in his own clothing.
He was 100% certain that he wasn’t in his own home.
So where was he?
The last thing he remembered was walking home after helping Ms. Anders.
What the hell happened?
He was about to open his eyes and look around when he heard shuffling just a few feet away. Something was with him? Someone? The urge to jump up and run was growing quickly.
As the person continued to move around, Dennis considered how he got to this odd place. Maybe he was kidnapped—smacked over the head and knocked out. That would explain the throbbing in his head.
He wondered what the offending person wanted with him. Was he going to be auctioned and sold? Was he going to have his organs cut out and sold on the black market?
As if hearing his inner turmoil, the person spoke.
“How long have you been awake?”
His voice was deep and raspy. There was a calmness in his tone, one that a criminal would not have. Dennis hesitated then opened his eyes, struggling to adjust to the light above him. As he looked around the room, he noticed the medical supplies on the desk and shelves. There were books lining the walls as well as notebooks with papers spilling out of them. Dennis himself was wearing scrubs, a thin blanket covering his body.
The person, a man who looked to be around 50, stood near a desk. He appeared to be sorting some papers. He moved to the light switch and shut the lights off, noticing Dennis’ discomfort.
The man cleared his throat, snapping Dennis out of his surprise and reminding him of the question. Dennis stammered a bit then responded.
“Five minutes, maybe.” He attempted to sit, but his head spun and his ribs ached. How had he not noticed the shooting pain in his chest until now?
“Don’t try to move too much,” ordered the man, Dennis noticed the white lab coat over his shoulders. “You got in a pretty nasty accident. Do you remember it?”
The reality of the situation suddenly dawned on him. He wasn’t in this unfamiliar environment due to evil intent—it was an accident. Something must’ve happened on that walk back to his apartment.
But what could it be?
Dennis attempted to shake his head and then immediately regretted it. He settled on a quiet: “n-no.”
The man nodded and approached him, scooting a stool to the edge of the bed. He took a seat with a slight groan, hands on his knees.
“To start, I’m Dr. Micheal Robinavitch. Everyone calls me Robby.” He seemed as if he wanted to shake Dennis’ hand but restrained himself due to Dennis’ condition. “Right now you’re in my clinic on Memorial Drive.”
Dennis took the information in, trying his best to be attentive despite his clear confusion and headache.
“Can you tell me your name and which town we are in?” Robby asked calmly.
Dennis shut his eyes for a moment and spoke up. “Dennis Whitaker. Broken Bow, Nebraska.”
Robby nodded, pleased with the answer.
“You were in an accident. There was a drunk driver and you were hit from behind. Someone brought you in after witnessing the crash. I’m surprised you’re even awake right now.” Robby rubbed the back of his neck.
Dennis was clearly in shock. He didn’t remember a thing, but that definitely explained it. Being hit by a car didn’t benefit his memory in the slightest.
“Wait-“ Dennis sat up quickly, his head spinning and throbbing with the sudden movement. “Am I able to work?”
Robby instinctively reached out and gently pushed Dennis onto his back. The hand on his shoulder and back of his head made Dennis’ chest ache for different reasons.
“No, you are not able to work,” Robby responded softly, retracting his hands. “It’s likely that you have a concussion and you have multiple bruised ribs.”
Robby looked patient, understanding. It was clear to Dennis that the man only had his best interest in mind.
“Is there anyone you’d like me to call?”
Dennis’ mind briefly flickered to his father. Wouldn’t he want to know that he got in a car accident?
The thought left just as quickly as it came. Maybe his father would’ve cared a few years ago, but not now. Not after all that he had done and left.
Then, he thought of his best friend from high school. He had graduated five years ago and hadn’t talked to her for four of those years. Would Trinity accept him back?
Dennis shook his head.
“Is it alright if I do a more in-depth examination now that you’re awake?” Dennis nodded silently.
Robby stood and pushed the stool away. As he washed his hands then put gloves on, Dennis watched silently. He had a thousand questions but it seemed like his examination was more important.
Robby carefully removed the blanket from atop Dennis. There were bandages wrapped around Dennis’ leg. Seeing the blood seeping through made Dennis scarily aware of the searing pain in his leg.
“Alright. Right now I am worried about a concussion and potential fractures,” Robby stated his concerns candidly. “Right now, which part of your body hurts the most?”
Dennis focused on his body, on the pain that he might’ve missed.
“Right now? My left leg.”
Robby nodded. There was a large bruise on Dennis’ lower leg. Robby sat back down and began prodding at Dennis’ leg, listening for any sharp inhales or signs of discomfort. Eventually, he poked a spot and Dennis inhaled sharply, clutching at the sheets. Robby took note of that.
“Wiggle your toes,” he commanded. Dennis followed the instructions, moving his toes. Robby turned back to his leg.
“Alright, move your foot side to side without moving your leg. Just try to utilize your ankle.”
Dennis did so, wincing at the pain. “I- I think it’s broken.”
Robby hummed, carefully retracting his hands. He stood
“It’s impossible to know for certain if it is without an x-ray.” Robby shifted his attention to Dennis’ right leg. “It’ll be important to get you to a facility with more equipment.”
“I-“ Dennis suddenly spoke up. “I can’t afford that.”
Robby’s eyes didn’t move from where he was checking the bandages around his thigh. He peeled back a layer. The bleeding had stopped.
“Do you have health insurance?” Robby asked, securing the bandage around his thigh once more. Robby glanced up and Dennis shook his head.
With a sigh, Robby stood up and took his gloves off.
“I don’t want to take any chances. I’d rather not lose a patient to something avoidable.”
Dennis watched as Robby moved to the sink and washed his hands. Fear seemed to overtake Dennis. He couldn’t afford this, let alone a real hospital stay.
“I appreciate your help, Dr. Robinavitch—“ Dennis shifted and tried to get out of bed “—But I really can’t afford it. I mean, I can’t afford the help you’re giving me now.”
Robby immediately turned, panic filling his eyes as the man tried to stand. He rushed over to the bed, holding his hands up.
“Whitaker you need to lie down,” Robby said calmly. “Don’t worry about expenses right now, okay? You just need to get some rest.”
Dennis looked hesitant. His eyes darted around the room. But as he thought more about sleeping and not standing on his injured legs, the idea became more and more enticing. He eventually shifted and laid back down with Robby’s help.
“Just don’t go back to sleep. I’m not sure if you have a concussion or not.” Robby sounded like he was joking but Dennis wasn’t sure if he was or not.
Dennis nodded weakly and shut his eyes. Exhaustion was slowly creeping up on him.
“Here.” Robby grabbed a needle and sat down beside the bed once more. “Morphine. You allergic to any medication?”
Dennis shook his head. God he wanted some pain relief.
“Good.” Robby injected the morphine into Dennis’ upper thigh. Dennis sighed immediately.
“I’ve got some other patients to check up on. Just sit tight and make sure not to fall asleep.” Robby picked up a notebook that was sitting on the desk and left shortly after.
Dennis was too tired to acknowledge or name the warmth in his chest.