Post by StoryGirl83 on Jun 28, 2009 19:38:49 GMT -5
Chapter One – Visiting
Chris Halliwell had been sitting by the hospital bed for over an hour. It was almost time for him to leave and go to work. His brother had been in bed for six days, one day longer than he had worked for their mother.
“You going to just sit there?” Wyatt Halliwell asked as he pushed himself up against the pillows, revealing that he was awake.
“I just wanted to check on you.”
“Then, why didn’t you wake me?” Wyatt wanted to know.
“You need your rest if you are going to heal.”
Wyatt scowled. “Good old Aunt Paige, refusing to help me until I’d rested for an unspecified amount of time to be chosen at her discretion.”
Chris laughed.
“It’s not funny,” Wyatt snapped. “I can’t walk. I can’t even move the lower half of my body. What if I were attacked? What if you were?”
Chris sobered up. “If you were attacked, you’d still have your powers. Provided you could see them, you’d probably be fine. As for me . . .” Chris shrugged. “I’ve already survived an attack without your help.”
Wyatt had heard about that, but it didn’t sit any better with him now than it had two days before. “You don’t need me.”
“Never think it,” Chris protested.
“So what happened?” Chris hadn’t mentioned it before, and he wanted to know his little brother’s perspective.
“Never mind about that,” Chris frowned. “I’ll tell you about it when you get better, if you’d like.”
Wyatt scowled. “You mean when Aunt Paige or Hank decided to . . .”
“No,” Chris interrupted, standing and walking over to his brothers bed. He stabbed a finger at Wyatt’s stomach opposite where a tiny knife had nearly severed his brother’s spinal cord. It had at first looked like a tiny nick, which was bad enough, but it soon revealed itself to be almost completely cut through. “You will heal with or without their help. You will be able to walk, again. You will. You have to.” Chris groaned and threw himself into the chair, ignoring the stab of pain that racked him as he hit his own ribs wrong. “Why is it so hard?”
Wyatt raised an eyebrow at his little brother. “You think you have it hard? I’m the one who can’t walk.”
Chris was unable to hide the wince as he started to get up, again.
Wyatt frowned. “Chris?”
“It’s nothing.”
“What’s nothing?”
Chris sighed. “Bruised ribs. Nothing more.”
“Aunt Paige.”
Chris snorted. “I swear she wants to teach me some sort of lesson. She forbid Hank to help either.”
Wyatt raised his eyebrow, again. “Interesting. She has no say over what I do, so get over here and I’ll fix it before you head to work.”
“But . . .”
“Don’t argue,” Wyatt warned,” unless you want to be in pain, And we both know you have to leave soon.”
Chris sighed and pushed himself up, ignoring the pain in his ribs. He walked over to the bed where his brother could reach him. “It’s not fair that you can heal me, but not yourself.”
“I’ve learned to live with it,” Wyatt informed him as he looked at the closed hospital door. Assured that it was closed he lifted his hands and started to bring them toward his brother. He stopped short and frowned. “Which side?”
“Right side,” Chris replied without hesitation. His voice was hesitant as he added. “I was thrown into a wall.”
Wyatt nodded as he held his hands against the right side of his brother’s rib cage. As a warm golden glow emanated from his hands he replied in a matter of fact voice, “I know.”
The relief from pain was such that Chris almost missed it. When it registered he looked at his brother startled. “You know?”
“Ladybug mentioned it.”
“Ladybug?” Chris scowled. “I should have known I couldn’t trust her.”
“She’s eminently trustworthy,” Wyatt argued. “She was picking my brain for ideas on where her parents might be since officially they should have been back yesterday.”
“Any ideas?” Chris asked, moving away, stretching his arms, testing his ribs. “And thanks.”
Wyatt grinned. “No problem and no, no ideas Ladybug and her sisters hadn’t already checked, but it felt good to be needed even in this state.”
“You are needed,” Chris informed him. “Don’t ever think you aren’t. I’ll go over there as soon as I have a chance, offer help if I can.”
“You do that,” his brother agreed. “Do that, but also get off to work before you’re late.”
“I work for Mom.”
“So? That just means messing up is that much worse. Besides you said Mom, Drinka, and Callie were all off.”
“When did I say that?”
“Yesterday. You’re in charge tonight, little brother.”
Chris laughed and nabbed his coat off the back of the chair he’d been using. “Bye, Wyatt.”
“Bye,” Wyatt returned as Chris exited the room. When his brother was gone, Wyatt settled back into his bed, bored.
And as he did, his toes wiggled.