Six weeks. Six weeks Sammy had been comatose. Six weeks of overwhelming fear that Sammy wouldn’t wake up. Fear that everything he’d been working for was over. Sy sat steadfast at Sammy’s bedside, as he had been since that first day. His computer was open, a web design he’d been trying to focus on abandoned off to his right on the table. 

Sy’s countenance wandered down to Sammy’s leg. His whole leg was covered in a hard cast that ranged from hip to toes. Sam watched Sy almost covertly. Though Sam rationalized, even if he were looking straight at Sy, he likely wouldn’t notice. As Sam watched Sy’s eyes travel downward and land on Sammy’s encompassing cast laden leg, he knew his mind had traveled to the day the doctor brought them the news.

It hadn’t been eight hours yet since Sammy had been placed in this room, but it seemed like eight days had already passed. Each moment that they waited felt like an eternity of agony. Sy listened to the rhythmic beeping that monitored his son’s heartbeat and held that sound as a lifeline. Sam had come back some time ago, staying with him even through the pain reflecting clearly in his eyes. 

Sam, who had been standing near the window, trying to gather the last shred of self-control he had, took a deep breath and turned toward Sy, going to him as he heard the tell-tale signs of hitched breathing. Just as he reached him, his fingertips grazing the spine of the man before him, the doctor knocked on the door. 

He was a tall man, standing a full six foot seven. His skin was as dark as midnight, his head devoid of hair, and a smile that brightened up any room he walked into. “Mr. Benson,” he said with one of those beautiful smiles that he always hoped would reassure his patients and their families. He knew by the look on the men’s faces before him, his attempt failed. “I’m Doctor Henry.” 

Sy took the man’s overly large hand in a firm shake before he shook Sam’s hand in kind. The man looked down at the small boy lying still under the crisp, white sheets and blanket. “You’ve got a strong boy, there, sir. He fought like hell for us.” He brought his deep, chocolate eyes back to the father before him. “We were able to get an x-ray of Sammy’s leg, as you know. The break is a bit worse than we thought. His tibia has what’s known as a comminuted fracture. This means his shin bone is broken in at least two places. Sammy suffered three fractures to his tibia. To compound this, his femur has also suffered a comminuted fracture.” The doctor waited a beat, allowing the two men before him to absorb what they’d just been told.

“Is he going to need surgery?” Sam asked as he wrapped his arm around Sy’s shoulders. It was a means of support both emotionally and physically, as it seemed as if Sy’s legs might give out as the realization of Sam’s question dawned.

“Mr. Benson, perhaps you should sit. You’re looking rather pale,” the doctor suggested, worriedly. When Sy had sunk into the chair directly behind him, Doctor Henry went on. “He will need surgery to repair the breaks. The good news is, the muscle and tendons around the breaks suffered minimal injury. It seems the best fit due to the nature of the breaks to put two rods in his leg. One connecting the bones back together at the tibia and one in the femur. 

“Now there is some possible good news. His bones are otherwise healthy and strong. Now because of this, and with his age and given that his bones are still so agile and growing, the rods may only be temporary. It’s something that we will monitor as he heals.”

“When will you perform the surgery?” Sam asked, taking over the speaking role, inwardly knowing that Sy couldn’t right then speak. 

Doctor Henry locked eyes with Sam and gave him a serious expression. “I have him set for surgery in two hours. These things need to be corrected within the first twenty-four hours of the incident.” He gave them each a small smile and nod. “Someone will come to get him soon. And if it makes anything easier, Mr. Benson, the surgery is very routine. I don’t expect any issues.”

“What about him being in a coma? Will that affect the surgery any?”

The doctor shook his head. “No. Even with comatose patients that need surgery, we still use general anesthetics and proceed as any other operation would. But I really don’t expect any issues one way or another, I assure you.” 

When the man was gone from the door, the door clicking softly closed behind him, Sy whispered into the quiet of the room, “What about the issues you don’t expect?”

The surgery went without a hitch and once the stitches were healed, they fit Sammy’s leg in the cast. Sam’s attention was snatched out from the past, his blue eyes searching Sy’s face as he began to speak. “When is he going to wake up, Sammy? It’s been six weeks. In three days marks six weeks and he hasn’t shown any sign of waking up.” When Sy’s jade eyes, shining in his fear, met Sam’s, he said, “What if he doesn't wake up, Sammy? What if I lose my baby anyway?” Sy folded his arms around himself, grasping the sides of his shirt so tightly his finger joints ached. 

“I don’t know when. I just know that he will. His body has to heal. His brain has to heal. That takes time. But he will come out of this.”

“It’s been almost two months, Sammy.”

Sam looked up at the wall clock with a small sigh. This was a conversation they’d visited and revisited many times over the last six weeks and it was wearing on him. It was all wearing on him. Wearing on them all. The clock read that it was nearing two a.m. and the quiet of the hospital echoed the late hour. “I know, baby. We should try and get some sleep. Come on, Sy.”

After their second week of sleeping in uncomfortable chairs, the nursing staff took pity on them, bringing them a bed for the two of them to share while they vigilantly watched over their charge. Sy stood and joined Sammy under the covers, his eyes growing instantly heavy as soon as his head landed on Sam’s shoulder. “I love you, Sammy,” he whispered with a softness that belied the anxiety that coursed throughout his being. An anxiety separate from losing his son, yet encompassed within it. 

He wondered if Sam believed those words any more and he questioned Sam’s motive in staying. Even as he whispered the words back that, not so long ago, filled him to completion, he wondered. Did he come back for the boy lying helplessly only a few feet away? Did he come back for him? For them both?

The next morning when Sam awoke, he woke with a start; his dreams repeating that nightmarish scene from a moment that both felt like an eternity had passed and yet like it happened only seconds ago. He closed his eyes in an attempt to calm his wildly beating heart before they slid open once more. Looking to his right, he saw Sy sleeping next to him. His body was only slightly relaxed, his face the picture of unhappy dreams. Seems to be going around, he thought and he slipped his arm out from under the other man.

He stood from the bed and made his way into the attached bathroom, fully equipped with a medium sized shower fit for one. As the water cascaded down over him, he tried calming his mind. That moment when Sy spoke those soul shattering words seemed to be on a continuous and torturous cycle, haunting both his dreams and waking thoughts. As the weeks continued to pass, Sam wondered if that promised conversation would ever happen. And as the anger that had begun to grow underneath the stress of the situation grew stronger, Sam admitted to himself that he wasn’t sure how exactly to deal with that particular emotion.

Once showered and dressed, Sam quietly left the room, careful not to wake Sy. In the waiting room, he knew he’d find three faces waiting amongst the crowd. They did not disappoint. He smiled at Shelly, Logan, and Casey as they approached him. 

“Sy isn’t awake yet,” he said to Shelly’s unspoken question as she drew him into a tight hug. He held onto her tightly as he tried to keep rein over his emotions. It hadn’t gone unnoticed that whenever she took him into her arms he felt like he might break, however whenever she did, he felt a bit more grounded. Logan pulled him into a tight hug after Shelly. He could feel the small vibrations throughout his brother, tightening his grip in response. Casey reached out his hand to shake, but Sam drew him into his arms as well before pulling back with a wry smile. Sam would tell them all, over and over, how much he appreciated the three of them always being there throughout this excruciating quagmire.

When Sam and Logan pulled away, Sam said, “I need some coffee. Shell, walk with me?” When she nodded, Sam looked at the other two. “You two want anything?” Both Logan and Casey declined and with a small smile, Sam turned and the two of them went in search of coffee.

“Have you two talked about anything, yet?”

Sam shook his head as he filled the paper cup. “No. We haven’t really spoken much at all. When we do it’s…mundane. Or about Sammy.”

Shelly looked at him for a moment as she took a sip from her cup. “How are you holding up?”

Sam laughed but his eyes showed the answer to her question exactly. “I’m not. I’m standing on a ledge here, and I don’t know what I’m going to fall into when I slip over the side.” He hid the watering of his eyes behind his own cup.

Shelly shook her head slightly. “You both are so stubborn. You know you both pretty much tell me the same things? Just talk to him.”

“Easier said, Shelly. I’ve tried over and over to start that conversation, but it doesn’t seem to be the right time with Sammy in a fucking coma. It’s not a conversation that needs to happen here.” He paused before, “I just…the longer we have to wait…the harder it is to look him in the eye.” He paused, swallowing hard against everything rising within his chest. “I can’t get that moment out of my head, Shelly. I’m so terrified that Sammy really won’t wake up. I’m scared that what we have is already over, without the words actually being spoken.” 

It was around twelve that afternoon, Sy and Sam were sitting quietly next to each other, each lost in thought, as they watched Sammy lie motionless. Sam stood, needing to stretch out his muscles and legs. He turned his eyes toward the window, leaning backward, his hands braced at his lower back and sighed with pleasure as his spine popped.

Behind him he heard Sy’s breath catch, and turned sharply when he heard, “Sammy. Sammy, he’s waking up.” Sam rejoined Sy’s side as Sy stood, his hand going immediately to his son’s forehead, sweeping back the long hair that slightly covered his eyes. “Sammy? Baby? Come on, baby, open your eyes for Daddy.” As the child’s bright blue eyes opened and focused on two of the faces that meant the most to him, he frowned in confusion and the bright sunlight pouring in through the open window. “Sammy, get the doctor.”

Sam sprinted to the door, opening it and bolting through like the room was on fire. “I need a doctor! He’s awake! He’s awake! I need a doctor!” He knew that he was starting to panic in all the ways that he didn’t allow himself to since this whole thing began. As he connected gazes with a head nurse, she nodded and picked up the phone. When he was satisfied that the doctor would soon be on the way, he ran back into the room. 

“Daddy,” Sammy called when his eyes landed on Sam, his little hand reaching out for him, his other ensconced within Sy’s as Sy placed small, grateful kisses along the boy’s hairline.

“Sammy boy,” Sam said as he took the child’s little hand in his, trying and failing to keep the tears at bay. He smiled, a happiness that he’d never known spreading through his entire being. “I’ve missed those beautiful blue eyes.”

“Daddy has missed you so much, baby,” Sy whispered tearfully in Sammy’s ear before kissing his cheek.

Just then Doctor Henry knocked and entered the room, a bright smile on his face as he saw the child really was awake. “Well, hey there, little man,” he greeted before shaking the hands of Sam and Sy. “I’m Doctor Henry. It’s good to see you awake. Can you tell me how you’re feeling?” Doctor Henry asked, his eyes going back to Sammy.

“I’m sleepy. My leg hurts. And my head hurts a little bit,” Sammy responded, his voice a bit rough from disuse. 

The doctor nodded as if he expected the boy’s answers. “Alright, we’ll get you some medicine for the pain, alright? Do you remember what happened that day, Sammy?”

“Bits and pieces. I remember the bus jerking really hard and then I remember a loud crashing sound and I remember hitting my head really hard. Then I woke up here.”

The doctor smiled. “That’s actually more than I expected him to remember,” he said as he looked between Sy and Sam. He went about checking Sammy’s vitals, writing notes as he did so. “Alright, his vitals all look strong. Now that he’s awake, I want to run a few tests to see how things are healing internally. If you’ll give me a few minutes, I’ll send someone in to take him for those tests. If one of you wants to accompany him during that, that’s perfectly fine. Sammy, it’s good to finally meet you.” With a smile, he nodded to both Sy and Sam before turning and leaving the room.

When the two nurses came in several minutes later, Sy followed them with a smile of silent gratitude to Sam for telling him that he should be the one to go. When they were out of sight, and Sam was left alone in the room, he collapsed into a vacant chair and finally broke.