"What is this?" Hutch's mother questioned as he ran his hand over the coarse fabric of the blanket now bunched against his waist. "It's drugs, isn't it? Are you doing drugs? What did you take? And don't you even think about lying to me, Jules."
"No, no," he replied in a hushed tone. "It's not drugs."
"Then what happened? And don't say it was booze. I'd be able to smell that on you from here."
Hutch shook his head, "No, it wasn't that either. I wish I had an explanation that would make sense, but I can't even remember why I left. I probably wanted to go see Brett, for some stupid reason. I used to think if I kept showing up, at some point he'd start acting like a father or at the very least a decent man. I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. Gods, I was such a shitty kid. I was angry about everything and took it out on you. I couldn't see what you were going through and I didn't care too. All I ever did was make it harder on you."
"Jeez, Hutch, what the hell's gotten into you? You sure it isn't drugs?"
"Might be an easier explanation, but it isn't drugs. I… I've just seen things from a different perspective."
"Uh huh, but just to be clear, you're still a shitty kid."
Hutch smiled and nodded, lowering his head to hide his falling tears. "Yeah, I suppose I am."
"Doesn't mean I'm not relived that you woke up. Now, lay back down and get some more rest. I'm going to go tell the nurse you're awake and find out how soon I can get you out of this joint. Hopefully, it's before the insurance runs out," she remarked, grabbing up her leopard print handbag from the side of the bed near his feet. "Going to have to set up a payment plan to cover the deductible as it is. Be back in a few."
Once Hutch was alone, his mind ran back to the inside of the throne room, and the white stone floors marred with the crimson patterns of death. The stench in the air, its warm breeze billowing out the heavy green drapes, carrying the sounds of war upon its back. And Kahlala with her outstretched hand, and the desperation hanging in the corners of her violet eyes. She had been so close, and yet just beyond his reach. As he stared down at his hand, tears moistening its palm, two decades too young to be his, and a hopelessness creeped over him. He felt lost, empty, and alone. His heart was breaking under the weight of his new reality as he muttered, "She's okay," quietly to himself. "She'll be okay. Harn and Seatah were right behind us, and Salvador was in no shape to do anything. She'll be okay. She'll get through this. Ensaso will make sure she's taken care of, and Ghan'dono will keep her safe until I find my way back." He smiled, an involuntary reflex to the swarm of emotions wracking his now adolescent body. "Then he'll beat the hell of me for leaving his daughter alone in the first place."
Laying back down, he turned onto his side to look out the window and pulled the blanket up under his chin. It was still warm to the touch, as if it had been warmed over a firestone, and was holding its heat impressively well given how thin it was, which only made him miss the weight of the furs he'd grown accustomed to sleeping beneath. Physically, everything felt uncomfortable. The hospital gown was old and had been washed so many times it was near see-through. The bedsheet stunk of chemicals and was stiff and harsh against his skin and felt artificial under his fingertips. And the pillow, as full and fluffed as it was, offered next to no support, forcing him to fold it awkwardly beneath his head.
Glancing through the window, into the light polluted darkness of the night, he closed his eyes and recalled the unmatched beauty of the sky he'd fallen asleep beneath the night before, awash with billons of stars stretched from horizon to horizon, warmed by the coals of the nights fire, a heavy fur, and his beloved Kahlala at his side. Even with the looming battle it still felt like paradise in his recollection.
"Hutch?" Kahlala's voice morphed, jolting him back to reality, where the bed now felt colder than it had before. "Sorry, didn't think you'd drift off that fast," his mother said, returning to the chair she'd been using previous, and sitting down.
"Lost in thought. Can we leave?" he asked, as he rolled onto his back.
"Not yet. She called for the doctor. Said it shouldn't take too long to come see how you're doing," she replied as he watched her, trying to remember the last time he had seen her. "And how are you doing?" she questioned, seemingly uncomfortable when she noticed him staring.
"I don't need to stay here, if that's what you're asking," he replied, diverting his eyes, uncertain of what else to say. Telling her the truth would only confuse the situation, and lying served no purpose, a lesson Ghan'dono, a man he came to see and respect as a father figure, had taught him many years ago when facing a similar situation.
"Not exactly what I meant, but I'm glad to hear it. It's just… you're acting a little… strange. Don't quite seem like you," she muttered, while anxiously fiddling with the strap on her purse.
Hutch huffed. "I'd think that would be a good thing."
"We'll have to wait and see on that. And you're absolutely positive you aren't taking any drugs? No one might have slipped you something?"
"I promise, Mom," the word fell from his mouth like a boulder careening down a mountainside, awkward and unfamiliar, causing him swallow back his own uncertainty, before continuing, "this has nothing to do with drugs. I don't… I don't take any drugs."
"Ms. Hutchinson?" a man's voice came from the other side of the curtain as it was pulled back, revealing an older, greying doctor, dressed in blue-hued scrubs and a lab coat, an obvious veteran of the hospital.
"Yes. But please, call me Cherry," she replied as she stood and moved out of the doctor's way.
Picking up the chart from the end of his bed, the doctor moved up beside Hutch and looked at the monitor and the remains of the bag connected to him by the IV in his forearm.
"Well, Cherry, I'm Doctor Suchet, and it appears as if your son is in good health, aside from being found unresponsive and unclothed in the late evening hours as the temperature dipped below freezing," he stated as he turned his attention to Hutch. "Any idea how that might have happened?"
"None," Hutch replied, the doctor sighing as he sat down in the chair.
"Then would you mind if I asked you a couple questions? See if we can't work it out together?"
"Go ahead."
"Can you tell me your name?"
"Jules Edwin Hutchinson, but everyone who knows me calls me Hutch."
"Hutch it is then. Can you tell me how old you are?"
Hutch paused as his mind chased the answer through old memories, trying to figure out how old he was the last time he was on earth.
"I'm sixteen."
"Seventeen. He's seventeen. His birthday was just over a month ago," his mother corrected him.
"Do you know what your birthdate is?"
"October 2nd.
"Have you been drinking recently? Taken anything you recognized or maybe didn't?"
"No, nothing."
"Do you pass out often?"
"No."
Dr. Suchet nodded while making notes on the chart before he lowered his pen and continued, "Do you ever have difficulty sleeping? Thoughts of self-harm?"
"What exactly are you accusing my son of?" Cherry interjected with a defensive tone.
"I'm accusing him of being a teenager," he replied, before returning his attention back to Hutch. "When you were brought in, you were suffering from hypothermia. Lucky for you, you were found and brought in before any permanent damage could be done. During my initial examine, I found no signs of frostbite or any other injury, and we were able to bring your body temperature back up to normal in a reasonable amount of time. But make no mistake, you were dangerously close to us never having this conversation. You may think you're invincible at this age, but you need more than a light jacket and a t-shirt to stay warm. Based on your mild confusion regarding how this happened and the state you were found in, I'm thinking sometime earlier today, you went from feeling really cold to feeling like you were boiling hot. Unfortunately, by that time, you were no longer thinking straight. Probably peeled out of your own clothes hoping to cool down only to pass out where you were found. My advice, dress warmer. And contrary to popular belief, the consumption of alcohol will do more harm than good."
"I'm aware," Hutch replied, finding the doctor's sanctimonious tone rather irritating.
"Excellent. Then I don't suspect I'll see you back in here again anytime soon. For now, though, I would like to keep monitoring you for the rest of the night, make sure your ticker keeps on ticking like it should. But baring any complications, I don't see why you can't go home in the morning. And unless you want to tell me anything that contradicts my findings that this was an accident and won't happen again, I'll leave you to rest."
"This was an accident, and it will not happen again," Hutch stated.
"Good to hear. Then I suggest that you get some sleep, while I go and speak to your mother in the hallway," Dr. Suchet concluded, as he stood and motioned for Cherry to move towards the door.
"We'll be right back," she said, taping at the top of Hutch's foot, before heading in the direction of the door as Dr. Suchet placed his chart back on the end of the bed and followed behind her.