Everybody's Thinking of You

When Catherine opened her eyes she thought she was still dreaming. The room spun wildly and her head pounded so hard she was sure her skull was about to shatter. She could swear that sound in her ears was the surf crashing while the ocean continued to try and claim her to its depths. There was a cool, dry hand holding her clammy, hot one though and it seemed to ground her here, wherever that was. It was a comfort and a curse holding her back even as she wanted to sink deeper.

But the hand belonged to a mad man with wildly tangled hair and a pair of waterlogged fake wings. The voice of an angel pushed past overgrown beard, murmuring her name as he slept restlessly. It was a far cry for the dreams she’d almost lost herself in. Cold churning waters and the feeling that she was falling, always falling into an impossibly deep abyss, with nothing to break the fall but the water that surrounded her always.

It was the sun that woke her. That warm light that covered her, surrounded her, teased her closed eyes until she had to open them if only to see where it was coming from. Imagine her surprise when the light turned out to be coming from the monitors hooked up to her body through tubes and electrodes taped haphazardly everywhere.

It was so cold. Like someone had wheeled her into an industrial sized freezer and just left her there. She just wanted to curl into the warmth that seemed to be oozing out of the strange man who was even now still holding her hand. Just as the thought occurred to her that she ought to wonder where she was and what had happened the dark waters smudged the edges of her vision and claimed her to their depths again.

Raphael slept on, obliviously, lost in his own dreams of frightful ocean waters and impeding doom. Even in the darkest places of his subconscious he wondered when all these new experiences would yield him a positive experience.

* * *

The next time she woke it was with a bloodcurdling scream ripping itself from her throat. Lucidity had returned when her fever broke. Waking up with a strange, winged, disheveled man gripping her hand like his very life depended on it as he slept was enough to scare the ever-loving out of her.

Raphael woke in a cold sweat for the first time, startled and frightened by Catherine’s panic. The chair was thrown halfway across the room when he jumped out of it and swung himself around. Wings spread out behind him imposingly to shield Catherine from danger.He was the warrior angel ready to defend the weak and the innocent.
“What is it? What is happening?” He shouted over the screaming when Lucinda came barreling from the hallway, two very large men following close behind.  “I was going to ask you the same thing. I see Cathy’s awake.” Lucinda’s hands were on her hips, not anywhere close to being impressed. “You think you could put those feathers away long enough that I can check to see how she’s doing? Or am I going to ask my friends from security here to escort you from the room so I can I figure out what the hell’s going on?”

“Are we in danger?” He asked, the mention of Hell only creating more concern as his still sleep muddled brain tried to work through the confusion. The panic was subsiding with the appearance of Lucinda’s familiar face but he still wasn’t sure allowing anyone near Catherine was such a good idea. Better to know what had caused her distress first. “Not last I checked.”

The men behind Lucinda had begun to advance, albeit slowly, looking to the woman for a sign whether to proceed or remain where they were. “You’re sure?” Wings folding behind him as he calmed, he straightened, taking a cautious step to the side in order to reveal Catherine to the others.

She wasn’t screaming anymore. The arrival of the nurse and security guards seemed to have helped restore some semblance of calm. She still seemed quite fearful though and Raphael did not want to leave her. “Who?” Wide, raccoon eyes flipped rapidly between Lucinda and Raphael trying desperately to work out what was going on. It didn’t take Lucinda long to figure it out the poor woman had awakened and didn’t know or remember the man who had been the first person she’d seen.

“Hey, looks like you’ve got some sort of guardian angel of your own. Someone brought you some clothes. Tell you what, there’s a bathroom just down the hall. How about you go see about trying them on while I sort things out with Cathy here, hm?”

The confusion returned with the bundle of cloth Lucinda put in his arms. He’d already put on the blue pants she’d given him. Now there were more clothes to be worn? These humans were curious creatures.

“Alright.” Leaving was no longer his decision, as the men Lucinda had brought with her had him each by an arm.  Gently ushering him toward the door, they weren’t taking no for an answer. “If you are sure.” “Take your time, hun. I’ll come get you when we’re done here, alright?” And that was it, he’d been dismissed.

“So, feeling better are we?” The nurse began conversationally while sticking a thermometer into Catherine’s mouth. Not that she was able to answer, all things considered.

“Before we get down to it and I ask you all those questions that need answering, I’m gonna fill you in on some things. Okay?” It was a cursory question because she wasn’t really asking. “Alright, so I get that the guy’s a little rough around the edges. And yeah, he’s been wearing those wings pretty much since he fished you out of the ocean. I’m guessing he’s probably looking like a bit of a whack job to you right about now, but here’s the thing: he’s been sitting here with you since he woke up nearly three days ago. This after jumping into the ocean after you and nearly drowning in the process.”

The thermometer beeped that it was finished but Lucinda ignored it in favor of taking the readings from the machines. She wasn’t done with Catherine yet.

“Maybe it’s some sort of ‘you jump, I jump” thing with the guy, I don’t know. But you need to know, he truly cares what happens to you.” With this came a pointed look, one that said Lucinda had a feeling Catherine could use a friend or two in her corner right about now.

How much did they know about what had happened? A new sort of fear rose up from her stomach to her lodge itself in her throat. Did they know what she had tried to do?

“Now. You’re probably wondering what’s happening, right?” Lucinda’s tone softened, her dark callused hand touching the girl’s forehead to confirm the number on the thermometer. Catherine, at a loss for words, simply nodded with wide eyes searching the woman’s face. It had just been so long since she’d spoken to another person. She truly wasn’t sure if she still knew how.

“You’ve got pneumonia. Not at all surprising considering it took a fishing boat to pull you up out of the ocean during that awful storm coming on five days ago now.” Pause partly for effect, partly to gauge Catherine’s reaction to the news. Impossible to read the nurse’s thoughts, but she sure wished she could.

“You’ve been unconscious all this time, fighting a pretty impressive fever which now seems to have broken. Good news. You’re going to live.”

The smallest little laugh bubbled past her parched lips, making Catherine jump. She hadn’t thought herself capable anymore. Problem was she was laughing at the irony of that last statement. Sure, she was going to live. Good news? Yeah, only the plan had been to die, so she’d screwed that up too.

“Okay, now it’s your turn, girly. There are questions that need answering and that guy of yours hasn’t exactly been forthcoming, if you know what I mean. So I’ll get you some ice water and then we’ll sit and chat you and I. Deal?”  Another nod, though this time she hid behind her bangs to avoid eye contact for fear the nurse could read her thoughts there.

“The girls from the pediatric oncology ward filled me in on your details. I’m sorry for your loss sweetheart. How’ve you been doing since then?” How was she supposed to feel? Oh yeah, she felt fantastic. Like everyone does when they get their heart ripped right out of their souls.

“Okay, I guess.” It was the only acceptable answer, after all. It wasn’t exactly like she could tell this woman she wanted to end her own life just for the chance to see Maggie again.

“That little girl was your whole world. You can’t tell me it hasn’t been hard.” Oh God, fishing around much? Did they already know? Had someone seen her that day at the beach? Or was it just that they suspected and wanted to be sure?

“It has, been hard I mean. But I’m okay, or about as okay as I can be.” Get off my case already.

“How’d you end up in the ocean Catherine?” There was the million dollar question. No more p***y footing around the subject. Time to face up to the tough answers, right? Well, Catherine didn’t want to. Not just yet. Not feeling as she was.

“I don’t remember.” Seemed like the safest answer. Who knew where they’d stick her if they thought she’d tried to off herself? The psych ward didn’t seem like a very appealing place, pneumonia notwithstanding.

“It was one year to the day that Maggie passed on. You sure you can’t remember hun? Because if you need help, now’s the time to ask for it. We’ll make sure you get what you need.” Bless her kind heart, she was being as gentle and considerate as she could be. But every question she asked and every reassurance she offered set off warning bells that sent Catherine farther down that road of panic.

S**t. S**t, s**t, s**t! This was not what she wanted. What she wanted was to go home to her hole in the wall apartment, crawl into her own bed and pass out for the rest of her life. She was sick of hospitals and hurting and being sick and answering questions and oh for Pete’s sake, she was saying it all out loud! Ranting on, almost yelling it out, as if all that time alone she’d just been storing all the words away and now that there was finally an audience they just wouldn’t stop spilling out.

“I’m okay, alright? I just want to go home. I want my bed and my sheets, my fuzzy socks and flannel pajama pants. I want to shower with my own soap and shampoo and get the smell of sick off my skin. I just… I don’t…”

Lucinda just stared, dumfounded, at the outburst. There had been several ways the questioning could have gone, she’d seen it all in her years nursing. Still, she hadn’t expected it to go sideways this quickly or dramatically.

* * *

Raphael was in the bathroom, a large affair meant to accommodate a wheelchair if necessary with room to spare. He’d managed the pants, the socks and the shoes. The belt Esther had provided had been a bit of a mystery but Bob, the security guard who had been kind enough to stay and answer his questions about the clothing, had explained the device. Raphael didn’t care much for the underwear, as it was quite confining and uncomfortable, but he wore it because Bob had said it was important.

There was just no way to tuck his wings under the shirt, no matter how he tried to manage it. Too tight around the shoulders and across his back and far too loose around the chest area, it was a miracle there weren’t any tears in the fabric from his efforts.  At first he thought perhaps it was backward but when he removed it and tried it on a different way it was no better. No amount of studying the material would yield its secrets. Just as Raphael decided it would be best to consult Bob again, he heard Catherine speaking. No, screaming. “I just want to go home!” At the top of her lungs.

The shirt lay abandoned on the bathroom floor, damp from his efforts, as he charged across the threshold of the bathroom. If he took the time to pull the sweater with the hood up his arms then it was on instinct and probably the only reason it fit across his wings properly. There was no thinking. He only reacted to Catherine’s distress. It was so hard to decide whether to be elated that she was speaking again or to be worried sick because she was very clearly upset about something.

In the hallway he took off at a run, soft soles of the sneakers on his feet slipping and sliding on the well waxed linoleum as he went. Then he was in the room, brushing past a bewildered Lucinda to stop at the side of Catherine’s bed once more. “What is it? What happened?” Hands on her face, gently brushing the fly-away strands away from where they stuck to the tracks of her tears, he tilted her face up so he could properly look at her.

Hysterical at this point Catherine only kept repeating that she wanted to go home. Eyes closed, she cried bitter tears that had been a very long time coming. “Don’t you look at me in that tone of voice, young man. All I did was my job. I had to ask her how she got to be in the ocean during a storm in the first place, especially considering you didn’t have any kind of answers for us.”

“What did she say?” He wondered aloud. Lord only knew he’d wondered what her thoughts had been that fateful day since it had happened. Had Lucinda been able to convince Catherine to tell her? He’d consulted Gabriel before sweeping down to her aid.

“She said she doesn’t remember and she wants to go home.” “Oh.” Alright then, what on earth was stopping them from allowing her to do so?

Catherine had latched on to Raphael’s hands, buried her face in the soft material of the sweater he’d hastily pulled on. The tears were still in her eyes but she had calmed with his presence. Her eyes were fluttering closed, as if the effort of simply having talked to the nurse had been too much for her to bear.

Suddenly it was quite clear what Raphael must do. “Then I shall take her home.” It seemed a simple solution. Why hadn’t Lucinda begun to take the necessary steps to get her there?

“You can’t do that yet. The doc has to sign off on her chart. She’s only just starting to feel better and there’s no telling if that fever’ll come back. There’s medication she has to take and the poor thing looks like she hasn’t eaten in weeks.” Catherine was drifting farther into unconsciousness the more Lucinda spoke, tears ever present in the small hitch of her breath.

“How long until you believe she is well enough?” He watched the woman warily as she approached the opposite side of Catherine’s bed, adjusting and readjusting machines and tubes. Lucinda was removing some from Catherine’s person, moving others to different locations and generally doing as she had all along: monitoring progress of something beyond Raphael’s comprehension.

“A week, maybe two, maybe longer. It’s really up to the doc and how quickly she can regain her strength.” And whether or not we’ll need the bed for someone in worse shape than this one is in. A fragment of a thought that shocked Raphael to the core as it had been so long since the ability had been available to him.

Perhaps it was written in his features because Lucinda began to bargain with him, misreading what she thought she saw. “Tell you what. The doc’s scheduled to come in and check up on her. How about I call him in and we’ll see what he says. Hm?” And with that she left, leaving him to the task of settling a now sleeping Catherine back under the blankets.

* * *

From then on Catherine was awake far more often. She would cling to Raphael in her dreams and banish him from the room when she was conscious. The doctor, when he’d come to speak with Raphael, had said the same as Lucinda had. Catherine would be able to go home in an indeterminate amount of time, dependant solely on her body’s ability to recuperate from her ordeal.

The angel wasn’t all that sure what they meant or how they were able to judge that she’d progressed enough. Lucinda was kind, though, and she seemed to share his interest in Catherine’s well-being. He trusted her and so he waited.

Days passed him by without any notice. Time was counted in moments. Moments Catherine or Raphael slept. Moments they were told they must eat. Moments Raphael could sit by Catherine’s bed as she slept. Moments he had to pass elsewhere when she sent him away, only to wait until he could return to her side.

It was one such moment, as he sat in the hallway by her door, that he came to overhear Catherine and her doctor speaking quietly.

“I really do just want to go home, doc.” She was speaking reasonably, as if answering a question he’d asked her. “I told you yesterday, Cathy. I could sign off on your chart right now if you didn’t live alone. You’re doing well, but I need to be sure you won’t miss a dose of your meds or sleep an entire day away. That’s all it would take for you to relapse at this point. Given how weak you still are it’s essential for you to have someone to make sure you eat properly and take your medication on time.” Oh. That was good news wasn’t it? She already had someone to do those things.

“I am here to do those things.” Raphael told the doctor, walking in unannounced and beaming happily at Catherine. He had been keeping vigil for some time now, after all. Her welfare was his responsibility and one he took quite seriously. The doctor looked doubtful, Catherine quite uncertain but Raphael was confident and happy. “You can finally go home, Catherine. Isn’t that wonderful?” She took a moment to consider his words, as if there was a puzzle to solve somewhere within them.

“I could sign a conditional release, if your friend is willing to stay with you and follow the instructions I send along.” He looked to her questioningly. “He is your friend, isn’t he?”

She was going to say no.  The man with the tangled hair and grimy beard who had, until a few days before, been sporting an impressive pair of fake wings made her uneasy. There was just something about the way he looked at her, as if he’d seen inside her soul and fell in love with what had been there.

He’d fished her out of the ocean, and as glad as she was to be alive she couldn’t yet bring herself to forgive him for it. Nor could she understand why he refused to leave her side. It was unnerving to always wake up to find him sitting next to the bed, head propped up on a hand as he slept or laying on his crossed arms on the mattress next to her.

The ‘no’ was right there on her lips. She didn’t know this man past the fact that he’d tried to fish her out of the ocean and had refused to leave her side since. She wanted to be honest and say all these things but what came out was a soft “yes”.

It was the only way she would get to leave the hospital and all of its godawful memories.

The doctor didn’t look pleased. He’d been keeping a careful eye on Raphael since he’d begun to take up space in the chair in Catherine’s room. There was something not quite right about the man and the doctor had a few running theories about what that might be. Try as he might, though, there was no way to prove that he was unfit. The man was simple, yet intelligent.

He was protective of Catherine, yes, but so far there were no signs of the overbearing attitude of an abusive boyfriend. If anything he was attentive and accommodating while being super conscious of Catherine’s need for personal space. Still, there was something between them that neither would speak about, something about that night when she almost drowned. The doctor didn’t like not knowing what that was. Especially since the initial suspicion was that she might have been trying to commit suicide.

“You’ll have to sign a waiver. Something legal that says you’re responsible for her well being until she’s able to take care of herself properly again. That means you’ll be held responsible if she needs medical care again and she doesn’t get it.” He was staring Raphael down sternly, using his most intimidating ‘doctor knows best’ tone but it had no effect on the angel. He was just happy to provide Catherine with what she desired.

* * *