I woke up with a sore head and my ears ringing from the sound of two angry voices shouting at each other.
"What have you done to her?" Jerry's angry voice said.
"Why would you ever think that I'd do anything to her?" Ben's angry voice replied, not much calmer than Jerry.
I tried to sit up, to stop their fighting, but fell back weak and dizzy into what appeared to be my bed. They were standing just outside of the room, and I decided to try to call them instead.
"Hello" I said, obviously too low for them to hear me.
"Stop fighting" I tried a bit louder.
"Hey!!" I shouted, pressing my hands to my aching head.
Two wild-looking men came running into the room, hair on end, worried frowns on their faces.
"Stop fighting!" I repeated, glad that I'd finally gotten their attention.
"I was hit by a coworker, Ben took care of me when I came home" I told Jerry.
"I met Jerry at work, he'd been tricked to go there, probably by that same coworker" I told Ben.
They stared at each other, somewhat shamefaced, and then looked at me, obviously still worried. I looked back at them, instantly seeing the similarities, taking my time scanning them for differences. They both had strong faces, dark hair and brown eyes. Ben was taller, but slightly thinner than Jerry. Jerry had a lot of laughter lines in his face and Ben seemed to have more distinct worry lines on his forehead. My thoughts about the possible differences in their personalities that their faces seemed to indicate were interrupted by Jerrys low laughter. He had obviously seen me staring at them, my appreciation of their physical appearances hopefully not as easy to see.
"You fainted," Ben said, still serious "and we didn't reach you in time so you hit your head."
"Again?" I answered with sigh.
"What, again?" they both answered in chorus.
"Right," Ben said, his voice tense "you're going to the hospital!"
From that point, all of my attempts at convincing them I was fine and that I didn't need to go see a doctor were in vain. I was not used to my decisions being overridden by anyone, but the power of two stone-faced, stubborn men was too much for me right then and there. When I refused to get out of bed, Ben lifted me up and held me upright; when I refused to get dressed, Jerry just shrugged, started untying the belt to my bathrobe and told me he'd gladly help. In the end I was standing up dressed, hair brushed, wearing shoes, holding my purse and staring angrily at two of the most annoying men in world.
After being half pushed and half carried to one of their cars, I sat silent and grumpy in the passenger seat. I didn't like being told what to do; I didn't like going to the doctors; I didn't want to go in their stupid car.
Of course I realized that the thoughts that were circling in my head all sounded like those of a whiny child, but seriously, I was a grown woman, if I wanted to stay at home and sleep the pain away, I should be able to do that.
"Stubborn, annoying, manhandling bullies" I muttered under my breath.
"What was that dear?" Jerry asked with a sweet smile, making it quite clear that he'd heard what I'd said.
"Nothing," I answered "absolutely nothing."
I could see my face reflected in the side window of the car and the fact that I was looking like that same angry child that was stuck in my head didn't exactly improve my temper. It did however make me realize that the careful mask I usually wore had slipped off completely.
"Who needs visualization techniques," I thought to myself "when the careful touch of three heavy-handed men is so effective."
I was still annoyed when we reached the hospital, but some of the worst irritation disappeared after Ben helped me when I almost fell on my way into the reception area. I was still dizzy and there was something wrong with my sense of balance; perhaps I needed help after all. As my anger wore off it was quickly replaced by a familiar feeling of dread. I really didn't like hospitals.
Ben must have sensed that something was wrong, because he turned a worried pair of golden brown eyes my way and smiled an encouraging smile. He then put his arm around my shoulders and walked me to the reception. I managed to focus on talking to the nurse in charge of admittance and filling out a registration form, but after taking a seat I could feel tension spreading through my body. My breathing became shallow and quick, which in turn made the dizziness worse.
"Please," I begged Ben "I can't do this. I want to go home."
He took my hand and tried to calm me down by telling me stories about his and Jerry's childhood adventures, at least all of the ones ending up at the hospital. My eyes were nervously circling the borders of a large painting on the wall, my ears were listening intently to Ben's whispered words and the rest of my body was shaking from the effort of sitting still.
Jerry came walking after having parked the car and sat down beside me. He leaned over to talk to Ben who tried to communicate something to him using facial expressions and nods. As Jerry looked at me his eyes went wide and his facial expression turned to one of surprise and shock. After another silent conversation between the brothers, Jerry started rubbing my back. Ben talked as Jerry ran his warm hand up and down my back and somehow my fear was kept in check by their joint effort.
I don't know how long we sat there waiting, but both Ben and Jerry sighed in honest relief when my name was called by a young, blond, kind-looking nurse.
"Your husband can come with you," the nurse said, looking at the three of us "but his brother has to wait out here."
If I had been my good old self I would probably have been embarrassed by the nurse's assumption about my relationship to the Sanderson brothers, but as it was I kept silent, happy that I would at least have one of them accompany me through my own personal gates of hell.
The masters of silent communication seemed to argue who should stay and who should go and in the end an annoyed Jerry sat back down. Ben put his arm around my waist and helped me on my swaying way towards an examination room and the unavoidable meeting with a doctor.
Hours later, poked, pressed, MRI-scanned and otherwise thoroughly investigated I was lying in a hospital bed feeling sleepy and chemically calm. After my first hysterical outburst when the doctor had started his examination, Ben had explained "the situation" and the doctor quickly solved the panic problem by medical means. The rest of the evening went by in a bit of a blur, but in the end it was decided that I would have to stay overnight, for hourly checkups, since I probably had a concussion.
Ben couldn't stay - mostly because of hospital rules - but he told me that he or Jerry would pick me up in the morning. As he hugged me goodbye I thought about the way he had kept me company and helped me for hours on hours and I felt a strange feeling inside, warm and tingly, like a summer sunrise.
"Thank you," I told him with a small smile "thank you so much for your help; I wouldn't have survived without you."
As he walked away I fell asleep with the smile still covering my face, happy despite being stuck in the house of medical horrors. That smile slowly faded as the night wore on and the medicine wore off; with my sleep being constantly interrupted by checkups adding to my discomfort.
- - - - -
I met the morning without much enthusiasm, slowly opening my eyes to stare at an annoyingly cheerful nurse that wanted to let me know that the doctor was due to arrive in half an hour and that I would probably be sent home after he had examined me one last time. With a yawn worthy of a big white shark I climbed out of bed to look at my reflection in the mirror. The color of my bruise had really blossomed overnight and made quite a picture along with my pale skin, my tired eyes and my tangled hair.
A cheerful "good morning" interrupted my depressing contemplation of the tired, old woman in the mirror. A low whistle made me turn around and I found Jerry standing there, flowers in his hand, eagerly staring at a point below my waist. Realizing that the hospital gown must have been showing the very naked rear parts of my body as I stretched to run my fingers through my hair, I felt my face grow warm. I pulled the ugly, flowery dress closed around me, stalked to the bed and hid under the thin comforter.
Jerry cleared his throat, pulled a chair up to my bed and sat down, putting the flowers on my bedside table.
"How are you feeling," he asked with a sad smile "are you in pain? Can I help in any way?"
Before being able to answer him we were interrupted by the medical team wanting to take a look at me. The doctor read through my papers, looked up at me, down at the papers and then up at me again before using an unnaturally soft and soothing voice to tell me about the test results and his medical conclusions; I didn't have any major injuries, no damaged bones, no visible blood collections in my brain, some superficial soft tissue damage, however the previous day's dizziness could not be ignored since it was very likely that I had a concussion. His recommendation was for me to go home, rest and - to be on the safe side - make sure I had company the first couple of days, to be able to get quick help if any complications would occur.
Jerry had been standing by my bed, keeping a warm hand on my shoulder, two of his fingers stroking my neck all the while the doctor was talking, his touch keeping me calm. When the doctor and his team walked off to their next prey, Ben kept his hand where it was, pressing and circling my sensitive skin with his warm fingers. The touch of that magical hand was again sending shivers across my skin at the same time as liquid heat seemed to be pouring out from my core, making my body feel both overly sensitive, filled with eager anticipation and deliciously warm and comfortable.
As his brother had filled my heart and soul with warmth the day before, Jerry seemed to have his own special brand of very hands-on heat that was able to fill me with warmth of a slightly different kind. Some quick thoughts floated through my head telling me that that was probably the very definition of their real characters and the most distinct difference between them; the caring Ben and the physical Jerry.
Jerry interrupted my thoughts once again by removing his hand and telling me it was time to go home. I tried to ignore the way the absence of his hand made me long for his touch again, but the signals of my body were too strong for my tired brain to suppress. As Jerry stepped out of my room, I slowly got dressed in my own clothes, every piece of clothing accompanied by worried thoughts about my reactions and the situation I'd found myself in. Why didn't my ever present relationship alarm system seem to be working anymore? Shouldn't I be a bit more worried about the fact that I had obviously let two very strong men into my life? Shouldn't my reactions to their presence be a bit more like my reactions to doctors and hospitals?
