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What Goes On | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Other, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley Genres: Angst, Drama Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations Rating: R Reviews: 47 Summary: Instead of bringing about a well-deserved era of peace and healing, the end of the war has split their lives in two. Choices and secrets have thrust our heroes into chaos and forced them down paths they could never have imagined. Note: This is the companion piece to Restless Heart Syndrome and covers those years and the stories between the final battle and where that story picks up. Hitcount: Story Total: 26715; Chapter Total: 3007 |
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The same routine stretched on for days. The young man they’d brought in from Devil’s Hole State Park in the middle of a blizzard remained in the ICU--unconscious and unclaimed. Nobody had reported a missing person matching his description or fitting the circumstances. Absent of any real leads and having nothing to go on, the local police and the detectives involved had decided that all they could do at the moment was continue to process the evidence they’d collected on scene and wait until he woke up. But the time-frame for when that might happen was sketchy and uncertain at best and an impossibility at worst. Given the head trauma he’d suffered and the overall ordeal his entire body had endured, it was quite possible that the unknown and unnamed teen might remain in this state indefinitely. There was just no telling whether he’d wake up or what they’d even be dealing with if he did. There was a possibility of brain damage or worse... So it was with a slight sense of nervous hope that Maria continued to enter the teen’s room each day, wondering if she’d find out that he’d finally come to. For the first 15 days, there was no real change from day to day. So Maria was very surprised when she checked in on the twelfth day and found two detectives conversing with the attending physician and a few of the shift nurses outside of the young man’s room. Maria approached the group slowly, unsure if her presence was appropriate. But as she drew near, Dr. Handle looked away from the tall dark-haired officer he’d been conversing with and addressed Maria. “Good morning, Maria,” Dr. Handle greeted her, beckoning her over with a wave of his hand. Maria joined the group, smiling and offering a greeting for each of her colleagues as they welcomed her. “What’s going on?” Maria asked curiously. “The detectives think they may have found his family,” Dr. Handle answered as he gestured towards the darkened room where the young man remained under sedation. “His description closely matches that of a missing person in Rhode Island. Authorities there have been searching for a runaway for almost a year now,” the dark-haired detective offered in explanation. “The family’s last point of contact with their son was in New York City about 3 weeks ago...so it’s a possibility he’d be in the area.” “But why would he be in the middle of that park during a snow storm, though?” another nurse asked. “According to the family, he’s had some problems with substance abuse and drugs,” the other detective offered. “And there’s a possibility that he’s gotten on the bad side of some pretty seedy folks. He’d already had a few run-ins with dealers and what-not before he disappeared...” Instinctively the collective gaze of the group drifted towards the room--each one of them wondering if they’d finally pinned down the identity of the young man--however troubled that may be now. For some reason Maria was experiencing a bit of apprehension in believing that the young man was this person that the detectives were describing. Even though she’d not gotten the chance to talk to him or even see him awake, he just seemed far too young to be involved in what they were alleging. He was barely 18 at best and it just seemed rather unbelievable that he’d be in so much serious trouble at that age. But then again, they really knew nothing about him... “So...what are the plans for confirming?” Maria asked aloud. “We’ve already attempted to contact the family,” the dark-haired detective replied. “The parents are in Europe at the moment, but they’re going to try and make arrangements to catch a flight back to make an identification. They might be a day or two, but they’ve agreed to meet with us.” “What do we do until then?” another nurse asked. “Are we going to try make more of a confirmation on our end? What if they fly all the way here and he’s not--” “We’ve already begun to wean him down on some of the medications. We’ll attempt to lower his level of sedation and see if we can’t coax him awake,” Dr. Handle interjected. “Even though he won’t be able to speak to us, we may be able to extract some sort of communication. In any case--we’ll be able to start determining where he’s at cognitively.” “Maria, you’ve reported that you’ve experienced him squeezing your hand?” Dr. Handle asked, now addressing Maria directly. “A few times since he’s been brought in, actually,” she replied. “He’ll usually squeeze it in response to my voice, but not all the time and he’ll usually stop after a few minutes.” “Well, you’re the only one that has gotten any real response, Maria,” Dr. Handle acknowledged. “So, I’d like for you to stay with him and see if you can continue to elicit any sort of response as his level of sedation diminishes.” “We’ll make sure all the other duties on the floor are covered,” Nancy Estes, the ICU Charge Nurse, assured everyone in the group. “That way you can focus solely on him.” “Do we really think we’ll get any real, concrete answer to what we’re looking for?” Maria asked, slightly nervously. “Are we really expecting he’ll suddenly emerge from a 2-week long coma and be able to tell us anything?” “We’ll take anything at this point,” the dark-haired detective answered. Maria nodded her understanding and then listened for a few more minutes as more logistics and plans were bantered about the group. A little while later, they broke apart; each participant going their separate ways. Shortly thereafter, Maria found herself back in the dim-lit hospital room that she’d become quite familiar with over the past few weeks. The two detectives and Dr. Handle followed her in and were continuing to discuss specifics as Maria went about checking monitors and making sure their patient wasn’t in any distress or discomfort. When she’d finished with that, she took a spot alongside the teen’s bed while she listened to the three men continue talking. “What did you say his name was?” Maria asked when there was a break in the conversation. “Evan Olsen,” one of the detectives answered. “He’s nineteen–almost twenty–from Providence,” he added as he handed Maria a sheet of paper over the bed. Maria took it and immediately saw that is was a copy of the official Missing Persons report for Evan Olsen. She perused the information on it–which included vitals and the latest information on his possible whereabouts. But her focus gravitated towards the photograph taking up the top quarter of the announcement. It was hard to tell if the young man in the photograph was the same one lying in the bed. Sure, they both appeared to be dark-haired, fairly slight young men. But the version lying next to her was still to battered and swollen for any comparison or definite match to be made. Although his wounds were starting to heal and slowly features were making themselves discernible apart from the bloody and bruised mess his face had been, he was still a ways away from the point where they could get a clear look at what he’d really looked like. “Well, we’ll continue to check in periodically over the next day or so to see if there’s been any more progress with him,” the dark-haired detective said to both Maria and Dr. Handle. “And we’ll keep you updated on when the parents will be arriving.” With that, the two detectives bid their farewell and Dr. Handle followed the two men out of the room, leaving Maria alone once more. “So, it looks like we’ve found your family,” Maria said quietly as she took up the young man’s hand in her own and leaned over the railing of his bed. There was no response to her words–the only sound in the room was the low hum and beeping of the ventilator and monitors around them. “Your mom and dad are going to be coming here to see you,” Maria continued on as her eyes fell over the teen’s face. “I don’t know exactly what sort of trouble you may have been in or what else you may have been facing out there to get you here–but I know that no matter what–your family is going to be so thankful to have found you. They’ll be here to help you work on getting better and then they’ll be able take you home.” “Can you hear me, sweetheart?” she asked quietly as she leaned closer, squeezing the young man’s hand, watching for any sign of recognition. “Evan, can you hear me?” As Maria asked the question a second time, adding his name as she spoke, the young man rolled his head ever so slightly towards her. The movement was small, but it was so much more than he’d shown before now. “Is that your name–Evan?” she asked, squeezing his hand, willing him to squeeze back. “Are you Evan Olsen?” Maria felt a slight pressure against her own hand and once more there was movement near the head of the bed as the boy made an effort to turn his head towards the sound of Maria’s voice. “Can you squeeze my hand again if you understand me?” she asked again. This time there was no response. “It’s alright, Evan,” she whispered soothingly as she leaned closer, taking her other hand to gently stroke the side of his face. “We’re going to figure everything out for you. It’s going to be okay…” ______________________________ _______________________________ Maria was nervous. They’d just gotten word that Mr. and Mrs. Olsen would be arriving with detectives within the next 10-15 minutes to see if they could positively identify their son. Part of her was wary of outwardly displaying or expressing any sort of hope or optimism. She so wanted this to be the answer to all the unanswered questions and the end to the mystery that had plagued them all since he’d been rolled into the ER. The thought that this young man was alone in the world was something that tore at her heart. So Maria hoped that this was going to be the end of the uncertainty and that a family was about to be reunited–because the alternative was scary and terrifying. But they’d yet to gather any concrete information or confirmation that this was really Evan Olsen lying in the bed beside her. Sure, he fit the description and the circumstances could lead one to believe that he could have possibly appeared where he had–but that was all the really had to go on. He was still for the most part unconscious and unresponsive and his injuries preventing them from gathering any real data for identification. She’d, of course, relayed the responses she’d received from him when using the name Evan Olsen. The doctors, detectives and other staff had taken that as a very good sign and they’d even tried again and had gotten the same sort of response as she had. But all the uncertainty still made her nervous. “Maria?” a voice called the doorway, breaking Maria from her contemplation. She looked up to find Lisa, a fellow nurse, standing in the doorframe. “The parents have just arrived and Dr. Handle would like you to be there to meet with them and then bring them in to the room,” Lisa explained. Maria nodded her understanding. Gently placing the teen’s hand back onto the bed, Maria left the room, following her colleague down the hallway to one of the family rooms. When she entered, she recognized the two detectives, as well as Dr. Handle and her charge nurse standing amongst the chairs. But she did not recognize the two newcomers that they were currently engaged with. The man was tall and slender; his dark hair peppered with grey that made him looked quite distinguished. The woman was petite as she stood beside her husband. She had shoulder-length chestnut hair and a pair of sleek glasses framed her thin face as they perched upon her nose. They looked like very nice people–but Maria could see the strain and nervousness in their faces. “Mr. and Mrs. Olsen, this is Maria Smith,” Dr. Handle offered as the group had looked up at Maria’s arrival. “Maria has been the lead nurse that’s been attending to him.” The pair nodded their understanding and smiled in her direction. “Do you have any questions before we go into the room?” Dr. Handle asked as Maria came to stand amidst the group. “You said that he wouldn’t be awake? That he hasn’t been awake?” Mrs. Olsen asked timidly. “That’s right,” the doctor replied. “We have, however, gotten some level or response from him in the past few days…” “Like?” Mr. Olsen asked curiously as he put an arm around his wife. “He’s squeezed my hand and there’s been some head movement in response to us calling him ‘Evan’,” Maria chimed in, explaining what she’d witnessed. “The movement is towards the sound of the speaker’s voice. It’s not much, but it is purposeful movement…” Mrs. Olsen nodded her understanding and there was a small bit of relief in her face now. With that, Dr. Handle proceeded with a few last minute details and reminders before he ushered the group out of the door and down the hallway to the patient’s room. Maria followed closely behind Mr. and Mrs. Olsen as they slowly entered the dimly lit room. They both paused just inside the door, their eyes drawn to the end of the room where the teen lay motionless on the hospital bed hooked up to the ventilator and other various tubes and wires. Mr. Olsen clutched his wife closer to him, seemingly trying to give her strength to hold herself up on her feet. When the two appeared to be rooted to the spot, unable to approach the bed of their own volition, Maria came to stand next to the pair, gently placing a hand on Mrs. Olsen’s shoulder. “I know how he looks now, but the swelling will continue to go down in the week or so and once his jaw is healed and we’re able to remove the wires, we’ll be able to start to wean him off the tracheotomy,” Maria explained, knowing that it could sometimes be very scary for family to see their loved ones so badly hurt and seemingly hooked up to foreign looking equipment that beeped and made all sorts of strange noises. She wanted to make them feel as comfortable as possible. Both Mr. and Mrs. Olsen both turned their heads towards Maria and Mrs. Olsen gave her a small smile in thanks–as if she understood that the older nurse was trying to provide her comfort and ease her nervousness in the situation. “Has he been in a lot of pain?” Mr. Olsen asked quietly as his eyes drifted back towards the bed. “He’s been sedated since surgery the night he came in,” Maria explained. “We’ve only recently begun to take him off some of the medications and there hasn’t been any indication of discomfort,” she reassured him. Again, they both looked grateful for her words. Maria watched on as the couple silently traded looks of quiet strength and courage, steeling each other to be strong for one another and what was to come. Slowly they moved towards the bed, the pair reaching the left side of it while still holding each other. Maria moved to stand opposite them, watching on as their eyes fell upon the teen. They slowly began to survey the scene before them, searching him from head to toe for any sign or feature that would bring them recognition or confirmation that this was their son. Silently, Mrs. Olsen reached for the young man’s hand resting on the bed, taking it in between her own two. “Evan, it’s Mom,” she whispered as she brought his hand up and placed a kiss on the back of it, mindful of the IV’s attached to the back of it. “Sweetheart, Mom and Dad are here. It’s going to be okay.” “Ev, can you hear us?” Mr. Olsen said quietly once his wife had finished speaking. “Can you squeeze Mom’s hand?” he asked. Maria watched on, hopeful that they’d get the same sort of reaction that she had gotten from him. But after a few moments, there still was no indication that he’d heard their words or was even aware that anyone was in the room with him. “His reactions aren’t always consistent,” Maria reassured them. “His level of awareness fluctuates and goes up and down depending on a variety of factors.” The pair nodded, their eyes still not leaving the young man. “Is there anything that you’re able to recognize about him?” one of the detectives asked quietly as they stood near the foot of the bed watching on. “I understand that he’s pretty beat up, but if there’s any distinguishing marks that you can remember…” “He didn’t really have any birth-marks–no tattoos the last time we saw him,” Mrs. Olsen replied. “I’m not sure what else we could use. This could be him…I’m…I’m just not sure…” “We should know, shouldn’t we?” Mrs. Olsen asked to no one in particular. She sounded quite lost. “We should know if this is our Evan,” she added, shaking her head. “It’s understandable how difficult this is for you,” Maria assured them. “And factoring in time away and the nature of his injuries–“ But before Maria could finish her sentence, a gasp from Mrs. Olsen stopped her. “He squeezed my hand. I felt him squeeze my hand,” Mrs. Olsen explained aloud. “Evan, can you squeeze my hand again? Maria watched on along with the rest of the room–nobody else daring to speak or even breathe loudly as they waited for the anticipated response. “I swear he squeezed it,” Mrs. Olsen insisted. “Ev–please squeeze my hand again, sweetie,” she pleaded, this time bringing the hand she still held in her own up to her lips, gently placing a kiss on the small bit of skin not obscured by IV’s. Whether or not the young man squeezed Mrs. Olsen’s hand, she did not know. But what drew her attention instead was the sound of another sharp intake of breath from across the hospital bed. “His eyes are open,” one of the detectives said quietly, drawing everyone’s attention towards the head of the bed. Sure enough, the eyes that Maria had only seen a handful of times when his pupils had been checked over the last few weeks were open–the green irises peeking out from behind the heavy-lids. They were not focused on anything or any one person and he seemed to be struggling to keep them open even the small bit he was able to manage. Perhaps it was that she just had not been paying that close of attention to the few other times when his lids had been peeled back to check the reactions of his pupils, but it was now that she noticed just how vivid the hue of his eyes were. They were a color green that she’d truthfully never seen before in her years as a nurse. Despite being unfocused and still somewhat clouded with the remnants of unconsciousness and pain, they were brighter now than she’d seen before. They were a vivid, intense shade of emerald that was actually quite captivating. But what was more important was the fact that they were open and that was a sign of a definite response to stimuli. She had expected there to be great excitement and jubilation in the wake of the revelation. What she had not expected was the reactions and the expressions on the faces of both Mr. and Mrs. Olsen. Neither one looked the least bit excited or encouraged at what they were seeing. “This isn’t my son,” Mrs. Olsen said quietly as she looked down, shaking her head subtly from side to side even as she still held onto the young man’s hand. Every other person in the room looked around from one another and back to Mr. and Mrs. Olsen–each one looking a different combination and cross of confused and disappointed. “You’re certain?” Maria asked as quietly and as gently as she could. She wanted to know what had happened in the past few seconds that had changed the uncertainty into something definite. Mrs. Olsen nodded. “It’s the eyes,” she replied simply as she met Maria’s gaze. “They’re green…same as the description in the missing persons report,” one of the detectives added. “I may not have seen my son as of recent, but I did give birth to him and watch him grow up every day,” she said quietly. “I’d know the color of his eyes anywhere. And they’re much more of a blue-green…” “She’s right,” her husband affirmed as he tightened his grip on his wife, trying to be strong and provide every bit of comfort that he could. “Although, this young man’s big green eyes are quite beautiful…” Mrs. Olsen said with a smile as she looked down at the boy. “I know that he’s not mine,” she added, sounding sad. Despite the fact that she’d just expressed her assuredness that the young man before her was not her son, Mrs. Olsen reached up and placed her hand gently against his cheek. The move was one done out of love and comfort. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she whispered to him. “I’m sorry we couldn’t help you.” Perhaps it was the touch, the sound of her voice, or both–but the young man seem to lean into the touch of her hand and most definitely moved his still foggy and glazed eyes towards Mrs. Olsen–nearly meeting her gaze. They remained that way for a few more seconds before the teen’s eyes slowly drifted shut… Quietly the Olsen’s and the other people in the room made their leave–the detectives and Dr. Handle apologizing for bringing them all the way here and not providing a match and positive identification. Maria went about the business of doing her equipment checks and making sure that the next doses of medications he was due to have were in order. Focused completely on her job, Maria was quite surprised by the timid knock on the doorframe a few minutes later. She jumped slightly before turning to find out who had knocked. To her surprise, Mrs. Olsen was standing in the doorway, alone. “I’m sorry,” Mrs. Olsen apologized, recognizing that her sudden arrival had startled Maria. “My husband went down to fetch the car…but I just wanted to stop by one last time before we left…” “No, that’s alright,” Maria assured her. “I was just finishing up here. Is there something I can do for you?” she asked. “No, not really…” Mrs. Olsen replied as she took a few steps into the room. “We just finished speaking a bit more with the detectives about any other information we may have on Evan…” she said, trailing off as her eyes landed on the young man lying unconscious in the bed. “Are there really no other possible leads for finding this young man’s family?” Mrs. Olsen asked. Maria shook her head. “We’ve had no other reports of missing persons that are even close to matching the description,” Maria explained. “And as much as his case and the story of his being found has been in the local and regional media over the past few weeks–we’ve had no one offer any sort of clue or tip that might help,” Maria added sadly. “It’s almost as though he just dropped out of the sky and into that park,” Maria sighed as she gently took the boy’s hand in hers. “I wish…I wish this could have been it,” Mrs. Olsen said quietly as she came to stand across from Maria on the other side of the bed. “I’m sorry that you had to come all this way and couldn’t bring home your son,” Maria supplied apologetically. “I can’t imagine how hard that must be, Mrs. Olsen.” “Janet,” Mrs. Olsen said quietly. “You can call me Janet,” she clarified–a small, friendly smile gracing her face. Maria nodded her understanding. “And a part of me really hoped this is where our search would end,” Mrs. Olsen added. “But my son has been gone for a long time–even before he actually left home for good this time. Once he started to change and get lost in the drugs and whatever else he’s gotten into–I stopped being able to reach him,” she said, pausing for a moment to sigh deeply. “When the detectives called us this time, I tried not to let myself get too excited. We’ve been close before–even bringing him home for short stretches these past few years,” she added after a moment. “But nothing really helps and we always end up fighting with an angry young man that says things and does things that I’d never imagined that any son of mine could.” “I always carry that small bit of hope with me,” Mrs. Olsen said quietly. “But in my heart, I know and I realize, that when the time comes that I get to bring Evan home again, it may be because we were too late…” “Janet, I’m sorry…” Maria replied. “I won’t claim to have been the perfect parent,” Mrs. Olsen continued on. “We’ve made mistakes in the way we’ve tried to handle Evan’s addictions and interactions. But despite everything he’s put our family through…I’m never going to be able to stop loving him and wanting to try my hardest to bring him back…” Maria watched as Mrs. Olsen swiped at a stray tear that had started down her cheek, overcome by the emotional toll of her situation. Maria felt a pang of sorrow and sadness for the women standing across from her. She couldn’t imagine having to deal with a child who was struggling with whatever demons that Evan Olsen seemed to be going through. Maria had five children of her own–although all were mostly grown now–and to think of any one of them might have fallen down the same path as this woman’s son had, was devastating to think about. “That’s partly why I wanted to stop by one last time before we took off,” Janet said. “My heart hurts when I think of this young man and the idea that he may not have anyone out there trying to bring him home the same way…or to think that there might be another mother out there missing her child when he’s right here…” “I may not be able to help or reach my own son right now,” she added softly. “But I hope that someone out there is going to be able to take care of theirs soon…” With that last thought, Mrs. Olsen gently took the hand lying on the hospital bed on her side, cradling it gently in her hands… |
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