Helping Mickey Ch. 03

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+++ I kept count. I’ve listened to Astronomy by BOC 77 times throughout writing these three parts of this story. The only other songs I listened to were An Old Fashioned Love Song by Three Dog Night and Hell Awaits by Slayer. All music and lyrics belong to their respective owners, used without permission. I hope that you enjoy this story. I’ve enjoyed writing it. +++

Susan sat up. She realized that Mickey wasn’t in the bed with her. She stood up and went to the door, listening for any sounds from the hall. She called his name as she opened the door, but got no response. She turned on the hall light. As it came on Mickey seemed to simply materialize in front of her with the speed that he shot up the hall from the bathroom. He grabbed her arm and her throat, clamping down on her wrist like an iron manacle, but held her throat only tight enough to keep her from making any noise.

She stared into his eyes, her eyes wide and shocked and scared. His eyes were wild and empty. His face was set in a grim scowl. She tried to speak, her voice a weak husk. His hand tightened a moment before his face changed. He seemed to snap back into himself and his face fell from scowl to scared in a heartbeat. His hands released her wrist and throat and went to her hip and shoulder, supporting instead of restraining.

“Susan? Susan? Where when here? What are we here? Are you ok?” He was rambling, his voice shaky and stuttering. Susan coughed a couple times and put her hand on his shoulder to keep herself steady. She tried to tell him that she was alright but her first attempt was a ragged croak. She coughed, swallowed and tried again.

“Mickey, I’m alright. You just caught me by surprise. I’ll be okay.”

He didn’t seem all that convinced. He was close to tears, and didn’t seem to know what to do with himself. He was fidgeting and reaching out to touch her face and neck, but pulling his hands back at the last moment. After a few of these, Susan took his hand pulled it to her cheek. She held it there, gently rubbing her cheek against his palm.

“It’s ok, Mick. I’m alright, you’re alright, we’re both alright.” She said quietly, hoping she was right. She guided him back to the bed and got him to lay down. She lay next to him, her head resting on his shoulder as was becoming the normal, and wondered if this was an indication of things to come. Mickey was asleep quickly, his breathing growing slow and deep. Susan was up a bit longer, thinking about her sore throat and wrist. Wondering if he might hurt her one night without realizing it. While in the middle of one of those terrifying flashbacks. She found herself wondering, not for the first time, just how much fighting he had done while in the Marines. He had been deployed three times, and each time he had said that yes, he had ‘seen some action,’ as he put it, when he talked about it at all. She knew that he had lost a few friends over there, and that he had been in a few large battles, but that vague description was all she had, as he didn’t like to talk about it much. She couldn’t really blame him; she didn’t think that she would want to talk too much about it if it was her. She thought that if these nighttime excursions were glimpses into what he had done over there, then she didn’t want to know. He seemed so intense, so focused and aggressive, that it scared the daylights out of her. That he was in a position where that kind of driven force was a necessity was scary by itself. She hoped that as he progressed with his recovery that these flashbacks would ease as well. Her mind was still turning over this line of thought as sleep finally came.

She was fixing breakfast while Mickey played guitar, which seemed to be the new morning routine. He was playing more metal, but still the occasional classic rock song here and there. She thought that his playing was getting better, as well. He was good when he first picked it up again, to be sure, but now he sounded more sure of himself. The metal songs were getting faster and less muddled, and the classic rock sounded like the radio.

She set out two plates of pancakes, bacon, and hash browns before walking towards the bedroom where his guitar was set up. She stood outside the door for a moment, listening. He finished the metal song he was playing and launched straight into an old Dio song with barely a moment between the two. She listened carefully as he began to sing, gauging how his speech patterns were so different when he sang as compared to when he was just trying to talk. He sang clear and confident. She recognized the song because he had been a big Dio fan when they were in school. He was playing Straight Through The Heart, one of his favorite from Dio. He was a good singer, not nearly as good as Ronnie James Dio, but good enough that it was always nice to hear him sing. When he finished, she poked her head in and told him that breakfast was ready. He turned off the amp and set the guitar aside. He gave her a kiss on his way past her, and she smiled as she followed him to the table.

She kayseri escort watched him eat, and noted that he was moving like he had before the attack. His movement was smooth and steady, he looked completely normal as he sped through the meal. He put his dishes into the sink gently, nothing dropping of breaking, and she smiled. It seemed that his recovery was back on track it was before. His speech and cognitive functions were still a bit off, and when he got excited, as he had last night, it got worse, but overall he was improving by leaps and bounds. She looked down at her wrist as she put her own dishes away. There was a bruise there, the shape of Mickey’s hand clear. She put it out of her mind for the time being. When she turned around Mickey was standing directly behind her. She jumped a bit and put a hand on his chest.

“Oh! Mickey, honey, you’ve got to stop doing that. You’ll give a heart attack someday.” She said, smiling.

Mickey traced a finger down the side of her neck, and gently turned her head to the side, ignoring her remark. He was examining her neck closely, and she realized that the bruise there was probably pretty apparent today. He was frowning and looked a bit sad as he turned her head again and touched a couple more places. Susan took his hand and kissed his fingers before looking him in the eye and smiling a bit.

“Mickey. It’s ok. I know you didn’t mean to. I’m not mad. It’s just something else we have to figure out. That’s all.” She said quietly.

“No. What about when I didn’t mean to you go to a hospital. I didn’t mean to is not like I didn’t. Not ok, not safe. Can’t hurt you. I hurt you I hurt me. I hurt us. Not ok. I’m sorry. I can’t control black flashes. Back, flashback. Not safe.” He looked sadder than ever, like he had hit her on purpose or worse. She knew he felt bad about it, but she didn’t know how to make him feel better.

He turned and began his stretches, staring at the floor. She joined him, and tried to get him talking, but he remained quiet for the most part.

His exercises went well, with him moving fluidly and gracefully. At the end of the regular workout, he went through a few extras from his day in the Marines. His battery of push-ups on his fist, with Susan doing a few on her palms. He went through fifty four count mountain climbers, Susan through about twenty before she gave up. Afterwards, he went through the push-ups again, with her just standing next to him, hands on her hips and breathing a little heavy. She was still impressed with his strength and endurance. He must have been a real terror in the gym when he in the Marines and in far better shape. He stood up when he was finished and started down the hall to the bathroom. She followed him and closed the door behind them.

She took his shoulders and turned him towards her, making him look at her. She couldn’t take this standoffishness anymore. She put her hands on his shoulders and pulled him down for a kiss. She held it for quite a bit longer than she had planned to make her point. When she finally eased up, he leaned back a bit but not much. With his face only inches from hers, she spoke softly.

“Mickey, I love you. Whatever may happen, for whatever reason, I will always love you. Nothing can change that. Please, don’t try to shut me out or pull away just because you’re scared you might hurt me, ok? I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t want you to go anywhere.” She said, trying to keep the tears from falling. He was still a moment after she finished, then he put his arms around her and pulled her close. She kissed his neck and shoulder, holding tight to his neck, savoring the feeling of his arms around her, holding her tight.

“Don’t want to lose you. Don’t want to hurt you. Want to coming home. So sorry.” He whispered, his voice rough.

“Mickey, the only way you could hurt me is by leaving.” She answered, the tears unavoidable now.

She stepped back from him and started the shower. She helped him out of his clothes, taking her time, and he helped her out of hers. She followed him into the shower and washed his back, enjoying the solid feel of his shoulders and ribs. He turned and started washing her, taking his time and never breaking eye contact. She could feel his dick when it stood up and nudged her stomach. She smiled a bit and stepped closer, pinning it between them as she kissed him again. She decided that if the phone rang she would ignore it. If it was the doctor he could call back, she didn’t care right now. He put his hands on her hips and lifted her up, turning as he did so and putting her against the wall of the shower. She wrapped her legs around him to help keep herself up, and he grabbed her ass to take her weight. She was still surprised by his strength, he didn’t seem to struggle to lift her at all, and didn’t seem to mind holding most of her weight once she was up.

His other hand roamed across her tits, squeezing and pulling on her nipples, driving her mad. She felt kayseri escort bayan his head push against her opening, and he paused, looking at her.

“Yes. Yes, Mickey. Please.” She said simply, her fingernails dug into his back.

He entered her in one slow, fluid motion. She gasped at the feeling of her pussy stretching to accommodate him. He kissed her hard and began rocking his hips slowly, thrusting deeply. She moved with his rhythm, lifting her hips in time with his thrusts to let him get as deep as he could. She could feel his breathing speed up, as was hers. She couldn’t believe that she was finally getting to have him. She had dreamed of this for years, had thought that it would never happen. She held him tighter as she thought all this, and he responded by speeding up and thrusting harder. She felt her orgasm building and pushed for it. Her heels dug into his back as her legs started shaking. His thrusts had become frantic, and she could feel his dick throbbing. He looked into her eyes.

“Fifteen-fifteen first.” He whispered as he started to cum. The first warm jet was enough to push her over, and her own orgasm crashed over her in full force. They both moaned and grunted as he slammed into her. When he finally slowed down, she kissed him, letting her tongue tell him what she felt in its own fashion.

They took their time in actually showering after that, but she didn’t think that there was a second during that time when they weren’t touching each other in one way or another. Her hand on his back, or his hip pressed to hers, or his hand on her ass.

They stepped out and grabbed towels to dry each other off. Susan couldn’t keep from smiling a small, content smile the whole time. When they were dressed, they went to the living room. He sat in the couch and she stretched out next to him, lying on her side, her head in his lap, looking up at him. He stroked her hair slowly, just watching her.

“Fifteen-fifteen first.” She said, smiling.

“First again for us. First now, coming home. Susan.” He said quietly, smiling himself.

“How long have you wanted to be with me? Is it something new, or did you feel this way since I have?” She asked.

“Seventeen. After birthday party. Cleaning Kenny’s pool. You fall in to get the shoe off the bottom. When you climbed out you were wet. So beautiful. Laughing and tossing shoe. Saw you as woman, as not sister. So beautiful.” He said, picking his words carefully.

“I remember that. I was wearing shorts an old tank top. It was hot, and we had been picking crap up with Kenny and June for like an hour. When June saw the shoe at the bottom I said to hell with it and just dove in. The water felt great. We joked about that for a long time. So it was seeing me all wet with my shirt sticking to me that made you realize I was a woman? Not just your sister?”

“No. Saw that you are woman AND sister. Both at same when. Didn’t know what to do. Lost. Wanted you and couldn’t want you. Come Suzie dear and doesn’t count. You know?” He said, thinking hard but keeping the grin at bay.

“Hmm. Kinda like I felt for so long. Did it fuck with your relationships with other women? Because all my boyfriends could never quite figure out why I was so critical of them.”

“Yeah. Miss Carrie nurse was never Suzie dear. Not as pretty, or not as smart, or not, not Susan. Not the same. Not the same.” He answered, repeating the last phrase while smiling down at her, his fingers gently twirling a bit of hair as he did.

“Yeah, that’s what I kept thinking. God, how come we didn’t figure this out earlier? We could have avoided wasting years.” She said, mostly to herself.

Mickey answered by taking her hand. As one hand ran lightly through her hair, the other gave her hand a couple light squeezes. She smiled widely and answered with a few squeezes of her own. It was just like when they were kids again, talking in the complex series of squeezes, using different combinations of fingers and patterns, their own little twin language from childhood. In many ways, they were speaking clearer this way than with words, especially Mickey.

Susan woke as Mickey was sliding out from under her. She immediately grabbed his arm, hoping to cut the flashback short before it could really take off.

“Mickey! Mickey it’s me, it’s Susan, you’re alright.” She said as she tried to turn him to face her.

“It’s all here. Susan it’s all here.” He answered, his voice shaky.

Realizing that this wasn’t a flashback, Susan turned on the lamp and looked at Mickey. He was pale and shaking, his eyes were wide, his nasty grin as wide and toothy as she had ever seen it. She jumped out of bed and went to him, taking his hand

“What is it Mickey? What’s going on, honey?” She asked, excited and scared.

“White hallway. It’s all white hallway. It’s all here. Come Suzie dear a light in the bright. It’s all here. Where we are and when we were.” His eyes snapped over to hers escort kayseri and he smiled. “Susan, it’s all here. It’s all here. Let’s take a walk out there upon the beach. Susan, it’s all here.” He was speaking quickly, his voice rough, almost cracking.

“Mickey, please slow down, what’s all here? You’re not making much sense.” She said, trying to remain calm herself.

“Ok, Susan, ok,” He said quietly, gathering himself. “It’s all here, in my head. All of it. Summer at Butcher’s Pond, a Birthday at Kenny’s, a Christmas at mom’s when we shared a bedroom for uncle Troy to have his own, coming home from discharge, you and mom picking me up at airport, all of it. A bastard in an alley with a pipe and a gun, lost in the dim, chasing a light in a bright, all of it.” He said, taking her hands in his and squeezing out a message. His hands said something different than his words. His hands said he was not lost, but found, that everything was opening, that doors were not locked anymore. She tried to reconcile the two messages into one and she thought that she knew what he was trying to say.

“Oh god, Mickey. You’re getting it all back aren’t you, honey?” She asked quietly.

“Yes. Some things are still locked, but most of it is white hallway. Susan, I’m coming home. Coming home to you.” He finished, his voice shaking badly. He was smiling now, not the rictus grin but a real smile, and tears were starting to roll down his cheeks.

“Yes, come home Mickey. Come home.” She answered, wrapping her arms around him and crying into his chest. She led him back over to the bed and got him to sit down. He held her close as he sat and talked.

“More and more it clicks. A motor turning over, a door unlocking, a path taken. No more ice. No more iron skies. Cold inside getting warm. I’m waking up. I’m coming home. Please, stay with me Susan. Help me home. You brought me back. I couldn’t come this far without Suzie dear. I want to keep to this when and where. Fifteen –fifteen first is so long ago and now. I want to stay.” All the while his hands were squeezing out a similar message on her arm where he held her. His hands spoke of relearning the world, of staying in a when where she was. She squeezed back her own message of reassurance that she would always be there.

When he had calmed a bit, they slipped back under the sheets and held each other close, occasionally squeezing out a message until they both found sleep again.

At Mickey’s next appointment with Dr. Bannister, the usual test were run; MRI, blood work, general physical. At the end of it, Dr. Bannister sat and spoke with Mickey for almost an hour with the neurosurgeon. Both were more than impressed with Mickey’s recovery. When Dr. Bannister sat down with Mickey and Susan at the end of all of it, Susan was curious to hear what he thought overall.

“Well, first off, Michael is doing very well physically. His scars are slowly diminishing, as expected, nothing extraordinary there. His body is healthy and fit, his range of motion is great, reflexes almost normal, motor control almost normal, and if it weren’t for his knee and cognitive damage I would say he could go back into the Marines. His cognitive damage is what I really wanted to talk to you about though. For someone that had his skull smashed with a chunk of metal just before being shot point blank in the forehead his cognitive function is nothing short of amazing. One or the other things happening to someone is typically fatal, but Mickey went through both, in the same incident, and is now close to normal. I expect a very nearly full recovery. You have already thrown the expected prognosis models out the window and shown that you are either very lucky, very tough, or very blessed. And believe me; no one survives a headshot like you did because of ‘tough.’ The human brain is simply not tougher than a bullet. The speed of your recovery and the consistent improvement is astounding. Not unheard of, but definitely uncommon. Whatever you and your sister have been doing to aid your recovery, by all means, keep doing it.” Susan had to smile a bit at that. “Your speech and conceptual aptitude are both improving greatly, and I expect you communication to catch up with all your other improvements in time. I understand you are still having trouble expressing what you are trying to say, and that is expected. Just keep trying, and I think that you will see that problem diminishing in time as well. Overall, I think that you are an excellent example of the human brain adapting to and overcoming a terrible trauma. I hope you two realize just how lucky Mickey is.” Dr. Bannister finished, smiling a little.

“Oh, we know that we are very lucky indeed.” Susan said, holding Mickey’s hand tightly. Mickey nodded as well.

Susan had ordered pizza, and they sat at the table, enjoying a quiet evening. Mickey took a slice and set it on his plate. As he was reaching for his napkin, his hand froze. Susan noticed it and set her slice down.

“Mickey?” She asked, her voice quiet. He was still as a statue except for his eyes; they were doing their high speed tennis match thing again. She waited a few more seconds before saying his name again. When she did, his head snapped up to her. His mouth started to tremble a bit, looking like it wanted split into that nasty grin again. After a second he spoke.

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