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Jeremy felt trapped in his mind more often than not. The sheer brain fog he had rendered him borderline unthinking at times. Simply focusing on what was happening in front of him at that current moment, living his life in those moments. He would grow flustered and exhausted regardless, simple tasks far less quickly though.
And he was unsure if that was a curse or a blessing. To not remember anything before the accident. Fritz would talk at him, stating it was a wretched cycle, what they did. And that both of them were better off away from that life style.
Jeremy really did agree, especially with how he saw it affect his Ma, the accident, the constant fight to get his surgerys, or the compensation. Thinking too hard about the lawsuits, or would-be lawsuits with BLU, and all of their little details and loops made him get flustered and exhausted. So he didnt think about it.
He does remember some of the time after, when his injury was fresher and he was alot more affected by it. When Fritz would pitch in his own money to help his Ma pay for his surgerys at the local hospital during the days. And then would take time out of his own work to progress Jeremy's healing any way he could during the night.
His Ma was so much more stressed and he would babble at the Doc something like 'Why is this happening'. The Doc would talk down to him in those moments, using simpler terms.
The Doc would recount how after Jeremy got dumped out of the bowels of the respawn machine; how the boss of the wars had to call an immediate cease-fire. And because of how rare that ever was, caused a massive fallout of paperwork. Nearly all of which, affected the BLU team members in one way or another. He would not explain further to Jeremy. But he thinks he understands nowadays, it was easier to replace them with new, fresh-eyed soldiers than fix the problem BLU were liable for, they were throw-aways after all.
A small specific memory dug into scalp sometimes, even though it shouldnt have. It was right after he was spat out by the machine, he was almost positive, the sheer pain he felt then would never just slip his mind. But he was taken away from the cold floor of the room he respawned in. And allowed enough time to pass for him to stabilize. He remembered the ache and the fuzziness of his surroundings the most, almost dream-like it was.
Then the Doc, who was just Medic at the time, doing something to help him; procedures or actions he couldnt remember those. His blowing white coat, his face and how shattered and hopeless his eyes looked at that moment, sitting next to where Jeremy lay.
Then another person entering- the med-bay he thinks? A very tall, broad shouldered man, his features reduced to shapes and smudges. He couldnt remember any of the other teammates, they werent important to him anymore, their shapes and sounds. The dark blue-black vest across his torso, the pale white of his bald head. Medic standing and crossing the room to the other man immediately. Speaking to the man quietly, then angrily, then desperately. He could not remember what was being said either. Only watching from where he lay on a medical cot. The way the mans face was cast in shadows looking away from where Medic was standing. How Medic took his large hand and pressing the knuckles to his cheek, then to his lips. Then the weeping. Jeremy could not remember which man it came from.
And Jeremy wonders if he took something from the Doctor, with his accident.
He really felt like he was taking too much from the Doc. Fritz had drove him out, to his office. Nearly every other day he would try and help Jeremy with some kind of therapy. Physical, to help with his motor skills and his balance. Cognitive, to help with his memory and his problem solving skills, and more and more. And it just was not working. He knew what to do and how to do it but his body just wouldnt cooperate with him. The humiliation at not be able to perform simple tasks made him clam-up and shut down and the constant prodding and pushing from the Doc to continue or try again, frustrated him and caused him to lash out.
But guilt ate away at him afterwards, always. He knew the Doc wanted to help but the roadblocks Jeremy faced exasperated him aswell. It weighed on Jeremy that the Doc was sacrificing so much for him, he felt like he was dragging the Doc into his problems, down the hole he felt like he couldnt escape from. And Fritz didnt deserve that.
Despite all of Doc's plactations and reassurances that it was alright, Jeremy knew that is was only logical Doc would get tired of him.
The drive back to his Ma's apartment was tense and no words were spoken. It was late, but Jeremy knew Fritz would find more work to do regardless. Jeremy lived a life of repetition in his own home, wake up, pills, eat, watch TV, eat, pills, sleep. The moments with the Doc was a respite from the pattern. And so, Jeremy was surprised when he did not have coax the Doc to come inside, say hello to Ma; as Fritz got out of the ambulance along with him. Walking him up to the porch with a simple "I need to speak to your Mother." It was about him he's sure.
It seemed the whole house buzzed with frustration and exhaustion these days.
When Fritz sat him on the couch in front of the TV, he had only half a mind to pay attention to it. Instead his ears strained to the kitchen where his Ma was cooking up something, then greeting Fritz as he walked over.
They spoke in hushed voices, he could hear them talk about BLU. BLU, BLU, BLU. Theyve mentioned it about eight times already, always it had to be brought up in conversations. What has been done, what has to be done next. Jeremy wished theyd just drop it, moved on; as every time he was reminded how much his problems truely took up all three of their lives the cold sinking feeling of guilt would enter his mind again. They had to be tired of this, of him.
Fidgeting with his cuticles he would cast a sidelong glance every now and then, waiting for his Ma or Doc's anger to boil over. His Ma burst into tears once, sat on the kitchen floor back to the refrigerator. She had a vacant look on her face, or perhaps resigned.
Fritz and her were standing closer together now, her hands caressing his shoulders, his hand rubbing soothingly up and down her back. They still spoke in hushed whispers and sighs, but it sounded much more tender, like this was all something theyd weather. Then Fritz pressed a kiss to her cheek, then a small peck on her lips. And that made her smile, although small.
Fritz walked over to the couch and sat next to Jeremy. A tight-lipped smile on his face as he looked over him. Was he staying the night? Jeremy sure hoped so, he helped make everything feel normal, like the accident was not as consequently life-changing as it really was. Jeremy wouldnt feel so stressed as a result. But beside him Fritz was restless, fidgeting every few minutes. He lay his hands at his sides, leaned on the armrest, then moved them to his lap. He shuffled around a bit more, before stretching his arm out around Jeremy's shoulders. Jeremy did not notice that Fritz wasnt paying attention to the TV screen like he was, instead he was watching Jeremy.
Fritz noticed how Jeremy's limping has gotten worse, the staggering and long pauses couldve been caused by Jeremy unable to keep from losing his balance. They had another scare four days ago. When Jeremy was out on the porch of the apartment smoking, Fritz told him to stop doing that completely; Jeremy said it calmed his nerves, stopped the trembling for a while, but he ended up having a seizure.
He collapsed on the porch and hit his head on the brick wall as he went down. There was blood still on the wall and floor as Fritz got there. Marlene had dragged Jeremy inside as he regained some consciousness. She held a towel to his temple, thank god not the stitched side, and called Fritz instead of 911. And so Fritz left his clinic early, in the middle of the day to speed over to their home.
Fritz felt undeserving of the faith Marlene put into him to take care of her baby. The last boy she had that hasnt moved away and onto his own life. But he did care for the boy and tried to heal him with everything he had, every procedure he could preform, every medicine he could prescribe, earnestly and with all the gentleness in his soul. The little that was left. With Marlene's failing trust in big corporations after what happened with BLU, Fritz felt like he had a responsibility to uphold, to save this boy. Fritz didnt blame her paranoia either, those BLU bastards, damning this boy to a life of pain and confusion without any chance of respite. No, only Fritz could give him that.
Tonight, he was guiding Jeremy to his room. Up the stairs, down the hall. He kept both of his hands on him at all times to keep him steady, one on his lower back, the other grasping Jeremy's arm. Fritz had tried to persuade Jeremy to do some of his therapy at their apartment, lord knows he'd need it now, but his brain fog was too great and he'd misunderstand what Fritz was saying to him and he was even more unsteady on his feet. Today was exhausting for Jeremy without a doubt. So he was off to put the boy to bed.
He sat Jeremy down on his bed, Jeremy practically flopped back onto his pillow. His room was dustier than normal, the piles collecting in the recesses. Jeremy put up some protest when Fritz lifted his arms and legs to adjust him onto the bed, but he was in no state to complain. Fritz pulled back his tangled navy blue blankets, waved it through the air a few times so it would cover his whole bed once again, and draped it over Jeremy's body. Leaning on the frame of the bed, Fritz then smoothed his palm over Jeremy's forehead, fingers threading through his hair.
"Close your eyes, Hase."
Jeremy didnt need to be told twice, his eye fluttered shut and he leaned into Fritz's palm. Under his eyelids Fritz could see his eyes still moving, was his dizziness affecting him even as he lay? Fritz sighed, his poor boy, he didnt know what else to do other than pray, pray that everything he gave the boy would work, pray that Fritz wasnt so entirely useless, that the knowledge of healing he retained wasnt all for not.
Fritz considered stealing more resources from the clinic he worked at. Perhaps apply for a job at the larger hospital further from town and steal from there? Thats all he needed really, more resources, time, and money. He could do great acts, he knows that. He did miracles all the time in the Gavel Wars. He could perform another, deliver his boy from eternal torment-
Fritz stopped petting Jeremy's head to bring his hand up to rub at his eyes. Fritz was getting tired himself, he should really go to bed soon. He'd sleep on their couch tonight, even though Marlene said her bed is always open.
He noticed his desperation bring about the manic passion he thought he'd left in the deserts of New Mexico long ago. It was useful when all he needed was to cut open heavily muscled, able-bodied men, to provide another saving grace for their team during a brutal match. Now, it was misplaced, he couldnt do that, he'd left that life. But it was affecting him, he's sure, the rage he feels when his desperate attempts at helping Jeremy were futile was becoming more frequent. It really felt like his mind was slipping away from him more and more these days. And that frightened Fritz.
He.. shouldnt worry about all that, he just need to help his boy. And tomorrow was another chance to do that. Jeremy's breaths were deep now, and he lay completely still on the bed. Fritz closed his eyes 'Bitte Gott, rette diesen unschuldigen Jungen. Bitte Gott, rette mich.' Then he opened his eyes, leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jeremy's forehead, kissing his temple. The metal stitches digging into his bottom lip.
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