A Timeless Place Ch. 19

Disclaimer: this chapter contains a scene in which a dream is taking place. May I please remind you that this is a story of fiction and does not necessarily reflect the views of this site, or the owners, or writers. If you do not agree with these views, then please close this chapter and continue onto someone else's story.

Again, may I please remind you that this is a fiction story and could be rated as horror/supernatural? I appreciate your feedback though I am not inclined to agree with any negative feedback I might receive from submitting this. Your views are just that – you own opinion. And though I have included this scene in this chapter as a pivotal point in changing the life of the main character, and after much research and study on my part, it doesn't necessarily reflect what I believe, or not believe.

You know me… always dabbling in the controversial. :D

I hope you enjoy your reading.

Greg pushed the railing of the bed down and jumped atop the nineteen-year-old, straddling his body, after waking up to the tune of a flat line from the monitor over his head where he had been sitting. He had checked the clip on the forefinger, hoping it had only slipped off, but it hadn't. Years of experience and instinct took over, as he began compressions keeping Jonathan alive until help could arrive.

"I need some help in here!" he called out to anyone that would hear him, stopping what he was doing only long enough to check for a pulse. "C'me on, Jonathan!" he grumbled coarsely. "You have to fight, son! And I am not gonna just let you go," he fussed as he continued to administer compressions.

"Hey!" he stopped, pushing the button on the intercom. "I've gotta code blue in here!" his shout into the contraption, near the patient's head, he could hear from the nurses' station clear into the room where he was. "Damn hospitals," he grumbled more. "Can't get no good help these days," he continued to keep Jonathan alive, pressing upon the boy's chest in rhythm.

Finally the room became full with nurses, doctors and other hospital staff. The hustle and bustle in the room was a dramatic change from just a few minutes prior and though it seemed chaotic, they all had a job to do – fighting against time and death to bring Jonathan back. Greg remained close by the head doctor to assist him, though he knew he should be standing back watching, like he was supposed to do. But, he just couldn't stand idly by and watch. He had to be a part of the action in some way, even if it was minute.

The few minutes that it took to bring Jonathan back seemed much longer to everyone. Silence filled the room as relieved professionals stood by staring at the monitor, watching the line peek at even intervals. It was short lived when Jonathan's body began to convulse.

"Clear the airway!" Greg and the head doctor called out in unison. They glanced at each other as they attempted to keep the patient from being injured because of his body's involuntary jerking about.

"If I didn't know any better, Dr. Carroll, I'd think you've been missing all of this action," the head doctor jested lightly.

Greg chuckled, "ya think?"

"Maybe we have a position open that you could fill after this little man gets back on his feet," the man offered kindly.

"Thank you, I'll look into that," Greg returned.

"Well, I do believe something is amiss here, doctor," he looked up at Greg with some assured expression that he had his suspicions about something. "I want an MRI and C-SCAN STAT!"

"I would agree, doctor," Greg replied solemnly.

"I think we should go in, after we get him stabilized again, and look around, see what's going on inside his head," the man jested again, though he was serious.

"Oh, Lord," Greg chuckled. "That could be dangerous, knowing Jonathan."

The head doctor laughed, then pulled his nurse aside instructing her to call up to the O.R. and have them prepare for surgery in about an hour.

"You might want to call the rest of the family, Dr. Carroll. Looks like it's going to be a long night. Someone will stay with him while you do that," the professional turned back to Greg saying kindly.

Greg nodded then quickly left the room.

Six hours after he was in the air, Peter stepped off the plane in New York City. Going to the board, he looked for his boarding gate and time trying to decide how much layover time he had. Exhausted from little sleep in the past 57 hours, he went to the restroom and threw some water on his face to wake himself up a little, at least enough to figure the amount of time he would be on the ground.

Looking at his watch again, he just couldn't seem to get his brain to calculate the figure correctly. Finally, he meandered to his gate, sat and waited until an attendant got there an hour and a half later. He then ambled over to her explaining his demise with some discomfort. She graciously asked for his boarding pass offering to help him.

"Sir, this plane will be boarding in just a few minutes. I think all, that's wrong is that you're very tired and have forgotten to reset your watch," she smiled gently at him once she had examined the ticket thoroughly.

"Oh, thank you, miss," he lifted his arm seeing that she was right. He had forgotten to reset his watch.

"Any time, sir. Now, if you'd like, you can just take a seat and we'll be boarding you in the next twenty minutes," she motioned to the waiting area where he again sat down and waited.

Once Jonathan had been stabilized, he was taken up to the O.R., his head was shaved and the proposed area of incision was washed with an antiseptic solution. When everything was ready, the patient prepared and taken into a chemically induced coma, and the surgeon had read the films, thoroughly, he stepped to the table and Jonathan to begin.

In the beginning all had gone well. The surgeon opened the site in which there were many questions on the films and the area in which David had hit the boy. He found the first of two bleeders right away, but the second hadn't been as easy to discover as the first. As he searched for it, Jonathan slipped quietly away, except for the monitors that told the technicians he was slowly fading.

In a surreal state, Jonathan literally felt himself lifting, floating upward from his body. He looked into the faces of those that frantically worked to bring him back, they all were unaware of his spirit presence gazing at them from above as he steadily drifted upward. The noise and excitement below him seemed to him as if he were viewing one of those shows on television that he had often so enjoyed watching. He was at peace, for the first time in his life, a peace he had not ever known before surrounded him, filled him and permeated his entire being. And for the time that he watched as the doctors and nurses worked to bring him back, he had no inclination that he had passed on. That is until he was almost violently sucked back down into this body becoming devoid of his surroundings and the goings on around him once again.

"Sir," the woman gently shook Peter, trying to wake him so that he could board his plane. His eyes finally fluttered open glancing up at her with deep redness in them. "You're plane is boarding now," she smiled sympathetically at him.

"Oh, thank you, miss," Peter stood, handing her his ticket to let her do what she needed to do with it. Once she had handed it back to him, she walked with him as he staggered groggily towards the door. They made small talk along the way to the portal of the plane where she handed him over to the attendant standing there.

"You have a nice flight, sir. And do try to nap if you can," she encouraged as she turned and walked away.

Peter was escorted to his seat and buckled in. The attendant reached over his head and pulled a small pillow down for him that she stuffed gently behind his head. "You rest now, Mr. Rossenovff."

He smiled up at her, his eyes so heavy that they closed before he could thank her, though he barely did just prior to drifting back to sleep again.

Jonathan was pushed into the recovery room where a male nurse made attempt after attempt to wake the patient. But, Jonathan seemed to sink deeper and deeper into his comatose stated. The ventilation tube was removed and all stood around holding their breath, hoping the nineteen-year-old male with the head injury, would begin to breathe on his own. In the silence of the room, one could have heard a pin drop, as they each one sent up silent prayers for the youth. It was as if, he had been surrounded by a guard formation of angels all dressed in green or blue scrubs their halos were the nets they wore on their heads. The only things that were absent were the wings that would have completed the picture perfectly.

When Jonathan took his first breath on his own, they each one sighed in relief and one, or two applauded very briefly with latex clad hands that muffled the sound of it. It was then that his angelic host appeared to disperse throughout the room to do what other chores there was to be done. Only one remained at his side to attend to him and continue to attempt to wake him. Behind him, stood the tall form that no one even seemed to notice was there. He gazed down at his nephew with a slight smile and eyes that shone with renewed hope for the boy. And as the nurse patted Jonathan's cheek a couple times, encouraging the youth to wake, Jim leaned down, literally through the nurse to whisper into his ear.

"It's time for you to wake up, now, Jonathan. At least give the man a moan or something to make him know you're still there."

And as if Jonathan were still bound to obedience of his Uncle's commands, Jonathan gave a soft, barely audible moan. All in the room stopped what they were doing, turned and looked to his direction.

"Did he moan?" one asked in a whisper, her head cocked as she listened intently.

"Yes, he did," the male nurse attending to Jonathan mouthed silently.

"Very good, my boy. Now, move your arms and legs a little. Just a bit. You need to move your body, boy. You've lain in that position much too long. I will not have you getting lazy on me. Now, move something, even if it's a finger!" Jim barked the last at Jonathan vehemently.

With all him might, Jonathan attempted to comply. It took everything he had in him to even twitch a little. And at first, when he did, the nurse had thought that was all it had been, a simple twitch that had been produced from possibly a dream Jonathan was having, or the medications that were being slowly dripped into his veins via the I.V.

"Again, Jonathan. And this time, move, damn it!" his late Uncle barked at the youth.

Jonathan felt he was in a vacuum tunnel where the only voice he could hear was that of his Uncle. And when the man spoke to him, Jim's voice drifted across him as if in a soft inertly flowing breeze that might brush him gently. He heard it as a mild whisper that he could barely recognize and if not for the silence that surrounded him utterly, he would have not heard it at all.

With all his might, he mustered the strength and will to move his body. It took so much effort for him to accomplish it that he grunted softly when he finally effected the movement of his left arm. It was then that he began to rise from his unconscious state, drifting toward the surface and into the awareness of his physical being.

"Again, Jonathan," Jim's triumphant smile beamed with the glow of elation.

The male nurse had frozen in his vigil with Jonathan not sure if he was seeing and hearing things, or not. He stood as if in a petrified stated almost afraid that if he moved, it would stop the progress of Jonathan's awakening.

"Oh, my God," one of the other nurses rushed over to the youth, took Jonathan's right hand beginning to slap it gently. "Jonathan?" she leaned to the patient speaking clearly to him. "Time to wake up, Jonathan," her voice rose as if the patient was afflicted with some level of deafness.

He began to sense the warmth of someone holding his hand, the light sting of it being gently patted over and again in the same spot, and hear a woman calling to him – telling him it was time to wake up. He felt pain beginning to throb all throughout his head and wanted to regress again.

"No, Jonathan," Jim voiced more than clearly to Jim then. "You need to wake your sorry ass up, now," he teased, but was more than serious.

"I don' wanna," Jon muttered to him in return, a sound that was muffled by his overwhelming grogginess and the pain he felt when he spoke.

The nurse, thinking that Jonathan had spoke to her, giggled a bit, "well, you have to wake up, now," she said to him cheerfully.

The expressions of the other staff in the recovery room were bright and suddenly very hopeful and cheerful. One or two held the fingers of their hands over their masked mouths weeping silently for the dead that had come back to them. To them all it was a miracle of life, reborn – a life that they had all thought had otherwise been lost. But, they also knew the trials and pain that Jonathan would be undergoing once he had regained total consciousness and was released from the hospital. It wouldn't be easy for him at all, but if he were determined, he would make it none-the-less.

Tony shuddered visibly to awareness having been sleeping in the quiet corner of the waiting room. A nurse had entered and was silently informing Greg and Bruce that Jonathan was on his way from the recovery room back into ICU. He couldn't hear what was being said, but he could tell the prognosis still wasn't good by the way Greg and Bruce had responded.

With a long quiet sigh, he choked back tears once again trying to be strong for the other two in the room. Standing to his feet, he stretched out all the kinks then stepped over to the threesome to listen in.

"…He's breathing on his own, but we've just not been able to wake him up again. The doctor said he'll be down in a bit to talk to you," she was saying. "He'll let you go in and see him one at a time for a few minutes, then you can decide between the three of you which one will sit with him until about nine o'clock. Then he wants to have another series taken to be sure everything is alright."

"But as far as he knows, he found all the bleeders?" Greg asked as soon as she stopped talking.

"That's what he wants to talk to you about. He'll tell you all of that when he comes down from the O.R." Her smile didn't seem to satisfy Greg, whom as the rest of them, were impatient to know everything.

An attendant walked up the aisle asking each person in the first class section what he or she would like to drink. Before she could touch Mr. Rossenovff on the shoulder, the first that had seated him stopped her.

"Let Mr. Rossenovff sleep, hon. He's exhausted," she chided gently.

"Oh," the petite woman shrugged somewhat shyly. "I didn't realize he was asleep."

"It's ok, just let him sleep until the plane lands and everyone disembarks. Then we'll wake him and help him get his things together. He's getting off in Arizona, so we'll just keep a watchful eye on him until then. Just see to your other passengers."

"Okay," the woman went on to the next section of seats requesting a drink order from the two that sat in front of Peter.

Approximately five and one half-hours later, the plane landed in Phoenix, Arizona. Peter felt the descent as he slowly roused from his sleep. Sitting up, he looked around to get his bearings and groggily wondered where he was. He suddenly felt the plane touch down, the high pitched whir and skid of the front wheels told him all he needed to know. He was home now. Excitement rose up in him and he almost couldn't wait to see his family again.

As everyone began to unbuckle their seatbelts and gather their things together, the plane taxiing down the runway to the concourse, Peter remained in his seat watching the lights on the outside breathing in deeply of the stale air of the cabin. But, he didn't seem effected by it, knowing he was about to breathe the fresh air outside.

He began to think of the things that he needed to do to get home. Having a choice as to whether to call and have the chauffeur pick him up, or just hire a cab to take him, he weighed his options thoroughly, before making a decision. The plane finally came to a stop, but he still sat waiting, as the first class cabin became an excited bunch of hustling people. Letting them all do what they had to do, he sat getting his thoughts together waiting for things to calm before he got up to leave the plane.

When he finally did stand and started into the aisle, the plane was practically empty but for a few stragglers like himself. He meandered through the corridor to the concourse still feeling tired, but nothing like he had felt when he left New York City. His thoughts were full of a good hot meal and bath when he got back to the mansion. And instead of waiting for the chauffeur to arrive, he decided to hail a cab to take him.

Once he had arrived, the place seemed almost deserted, but for the one-person left behind to take calls and such while the others were at the hospital. He informed Peter that Jonathan had been injured and went into emergency surgery just hours before. Explaining the details of Jonathan's injuries, the man was thorough leaving no point out. Then he offered to drive Peter to the hospital, if he wanted.

"Yes, please," Peter stated with urgency. "I need to see my family, if you would," he added kindly.

"Would you care for anything to take with you to eat? Have you had a meal at all?" the man asked with concern not knowing where Peter had been all the time he had been gone.

"If you have anything readily available, yes. Otherwise, we could stop somewhere and order something," Peter wasn't much into fast food, but he would make an exception this time.

"There's a sub shop right down the road from the hospital," the man began to lead the way to his car with Peter right on his heels.

After stopping at the sub shop, Peter was stuffing the veggie sub down his throat hungrily while the man drove him to the hospital. The driver tried to keep pace with Peter, wanting him to have time to finish the six-inch sub before they arrived. He pretended to be flipping through the stations on the radio, as if they were on a long journey across the country, just to keep him from driving too fast and arrive well before Mr. Rossenovff could finish his dinner. And as soon as Peter had stuffed the last bite into his mouth, they turned into the main visitor parking lot.

He found the closest spot he could in the almost deserted parking lot and parked. Peter was wiping his mouth with a napkin, checking his jacket to ensure he hadn't gotten anything on it. He stepped out of the car to sweep the crumbs onto the ground that had fallen on his lapel and so on. Then he followed the man into the hospital where they inquired about Mr. Jonathan Bowman's whereabouts.

Tony paced the floor waiting for his turn to enter Jonathan's hospital room and see him. He was beside himself and felt it was imperative he went in soon, not understanding why he felt such urgency, but he did. The last time he had felt it was right before he told Greg to take Jonathan out of the doctor's apartment, just prior the blast that could have killed the three of them.

Bruce was seated in one of the rows of seats against the wall in the waiting room with him, trying not to get into Tony's way. At the same time, he was desperate to be patient with his friend knowing Tony wanted so much to be with the kid. Yet, he had no inclination of what Tony was feeling, the man having not said anything to him about it. He just happened to glance up and look past the man to see a familiar form headed toward the ICU waiting room. Jumping up suddenly, his excitement of the moment causing him to forget everything else right then, he raced out through the door and into Peter's arms.