They Said He Was Depressed 1/5     They Said He Was Depressed 1/5

 by Rifka

  

Title: They Said He Was Depressed 1/5 

Author: Rifka 

Subject Info: Christopher Keller survives his fall off the balcony in
Season 6, but has a slight problem. Posted to: TS and TSXF 

Feedback: Always nice 

Note I had written the first four paragraphs after Joanne Francis issued a
challenge in her Fic, Between the End and the Beginning. In the third
lyric wheel Maverick posted the lyrics for Vertical Horizon's I'm Still
Here and suddenly the characters started talking and they haven't stopped.


Additional Note: They've continued to talk and this little fic is followed
by a series called The Interaction Series and then continues in On The
Outside. 

They Said He Was Depressed 

He looked so pale against the white sheets. `They said that physically, he
would be ok in time. Lots of time, lots of rehab.' Toby shuddered at the
thought. It brought back many memories of blood, sweat and tears from
Toby's turn at rehab. `Rehab...alcohol, heroin, broken bones & Chris. All
my addictions' he sighed softly. He didn't want to waken him. 

He had been transferred to Benchley Memorial Hospital where a CT scan
confirmed their suspicions. They said it had been a concussion with a
subdural hematoma. The fall had produced a small bleed in his brain, which
had caused it to shift over to the left side. The only way to reduce the
swelling of his brain was immediate surgery. There the neurosurgeons put
two holes in his skull called Burr Holes. The holes were small, but large
enough for the hematoma to drain. He had also been given some steroids to
help keep the swelling down. Luckily they didn't have to remove any of his
skull. 

They said he would be ok but his short-term memory was gone. Disappeared.
Kaput. There was no way to get it back. But it wasn't just short term,
like he couldn't remember `MacBeth' or getting new socks from Toby. He
didn't remember the past few years. He didn't recognize Sr Pete or Dr
Nathan. Nor McManus or Murphy. Not Ryan or Poet. 

"He didn't recognize my name or my picture. He doesn't know who the fuck I
am", thought Toby as he continued to stare at the sleeping person in the
hospital bed. 

"Tobias? Tobias!" questioned Dr. Nathan. 

"I'm sorry, Dr. Nathan, it's so... so hard for me to focus, to comprehend
what's going on." He answered. 

"I'll explain it again. Chris is going to be ok! He has amnesia and we
think most likely it's retrograde amnesia. That's the inability to
remember events that occurred before the `incidence of trauma'. Chris is
unable to recall some of the events that were stored in his long term
memory." 

"But the fall, his falling off the balcony just happened! How could he not
remember? How could it already be stored in long term memory?" Toby stood
up and faced Dr. Nathan. "How can he not remember me? We loved each other!
We still do, even though I said some horrible things to him. Dr. Nathan, I
called him Death! I didn't mean it. My feelings were so hurt by what he
did. He should have known that I would have forgiven him... in time." 

Sr. Pete had just returned from the chapel, after sending up a prayer for
Chris. While she was on her knees in prayer, she kept telling herself she
was really doing it for Toby. They said it didn't make any difference who
offered the prayer, as long as it was sent. 

She had walked up three flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator.
In order to block certain thoughts that still haunted her, she would count
each of her steps; consequently no other thoughts would be allowed in. At
the door to Chris's room she took a deep breath and entered. Toby was
finishing his conversation with Dr. Nathan and he looked so dejected. She
walked over and opened her arms, and Toby allowed himself the comfort of a
soothing hug. 

"Tobias, my dear Tobias. Chris knew that you loved him; he was just at his
wits end. Maybe in time you'll figure out how to get Chris to remember
some of the things that happened. Well, maybe he'll just remember the
umm...good things. You know, just the good stuff between both of you and
maybe he won't remember all the bad things he did. Even though he should
remember it all for the sake of his soul! You'll help him, I know you
will." She patted Toby's cheek and let him go. 

"And just how do I do that?" Toby asked her forlornly. 

"Can't a guy get any sleep around here? Dammit, but you guys are noisy.
Take it outside. But you stay." Chris looked directly at Toby. He had
awakened and upon opening his eyes, all he had were two thoughts. `I'm
cranky, and why does this guy keep coming back to visit me?' 

"Hey," Toby said quietly, slightly above a whisper. 

"Hey" Chris responded and Toby thought he was going to smile but no, it
was just the right side of his mouth twitching. 

As Toby moved closer to Chris's bedside he remembered another time,
another place where they both had said `Hey' to each other. He sat in the
chair and his lower lip quivered and he felt his eyes filling up with
tears. He tried to brush it away but Chris caught him. 

"I'm sorry you seem so sad when you come to visit me. Every time you seem
more upset. Talk to me. Maybe today it's gonna be ok. Maybe I'll remember
something. Ya know, this morning I had a visit from my three ex-wives,
four if you count Bonnie. I married her twice, but you already know that,
don't you? I do remember them. I remember Bonnie telling me she was going
to get married again." 

Toby jumped out of his chair. "You remember that? You really do? Or did
Bonnie tell you that this morning? I mean that she had come to see you
while you were..." Toby suddenly stopped talking. He didn't know what they
told him. 

Now Chris laughed, but just a little. "Hey, relax there Toby. I know I
was, still am I suppose, in prison. Oz, right? I do remember the holdup
and killing that man and my arm being broken. But it kinda stops there." 

It was Toby's turn to laugh a little, "Don't you see Chris, you've got two
memories right there. There's some more stuff that needs to go in between.
I know... Do you play any games? Any sports that you think you liked?" 

"Games?" Chris asked him while he folded his arms over his chest. "Like
Checkers?" 

"Yes, like Checkers. Fuckin A, like Checkers!" He wanted to go over to
Chris and grab his face and kiss him. He knew he couldn't do that but he
could sit on the edge of Chris's bed. 

"You find this funny, huh?" Chris questioned him while this time Toby
thought he noticed a familiar gleam in his eye, if only for a second. 

"Well not exactly `Ha, Ha' funny...but yeah, kinda. Toby lowered his head
and was looking at Chris without lifting his head any higher than he had
to. 

`What the fuck? Is this guy flirting with me?' Chris wondered. `He's
attractive, smart, ok, yeah. I see a possibility, maybe.' 

"What kind of relationship did we have? The nun said we were roommates,
right?" He tentatively asked Toby. 

"Well, not exactly roommates." Toby smiled as he responded. 

"Ok, podmates. That's what she said; we shared a pod, right? Not a cell.
And what's her story? When she was here asking me questions, I coulda
sworn she was flirting with me. Do I have a tat on my forehead that says,
`Flirt with the Amnesic Man?" 

"You felt as though Sr. Pete was flirting with you?" Toby snickered. "Boy,
are you off base with that one. In fact, you were the one that did the
flirting. At least, that's what she told me. But that was years...Oh...
Fuck me!" he finished speaking, hung his head and philosophized, `Oh man.
Someone just shut me up now, dig a hole and push me in.' 

"Toby! Toby, don't stop. Tell me more. Help me fill in the blanks. She
said that I was very depressed and I have to see the psychiatrist. She
thinks I tried to kill myself. Did I? Toby, man, I'm begging you." Chris
pleaded. 

Chris melted into the bed and Toby reached for his hand. He picked up
Chris's right hand in his and very gently rubbed it. He wanted to be able
to send the feelings that were in his heart to Chris. He wanted Chris to
feel his love. Toby knew it was still there, in both their hearts. 

"Chris, as much as I want to tell you everything, I can't. It wouldn't
help you. From what Dr. Nathan said, your memory will come back. But you
have to do it. It'll be triggered by certain things." 

"Yeah, what things?" 

"Oh, certain words or odors. Or colors. And maybe some piece of clothing
someone is wearing. It'll click something in that thickheaded brain of
yours and a memory will come back. Chris, it will, I just know it will." 

"Toby did I try to kill myself? What made me that depressed?" Chris asked
softly. 

"No. No Chris. You did not try to kill yourself. I was there. I was
standing next to you. We were just talking, you know, shooting the breeze.
We were going to be in the same pod again. We were talking about some of
the old times and you seemed ok, excited even. You just... got... too...
close to the edge and slipped. That's all there is to it." Toby was trying
to convince himself as he spoke. "Yes, that's exactly what happened." 

Officer Mineo stepped into the room and said "Let's go home Beecher, your
chariot awaits."  

Chris sat in the outdated reclining chair that had seen way too many
patients. It was a pinkish/mauve color with grey stripes. The nurse had
helped him into the chair after he took his third short walk in the hall.
His condition was improving although he still felt weak and incredibly
sore throughout his whole body. His right shoulder was still bruised, as
was his right hip. He was only allowed ibuprofen for pain and took it
whenever they said he could have it. He had leaned back in the chair in
order to stretch his legs out. But most importantly, he wanted to look out
the window. It seemed like it had been an eternity since he saw the night
sky. It was a clear night, lots of stars and the moon looked like it was
lying on its back, half full. 

"Just ...tip me over and pour me out." 

Sr. Pete had silently entered the room. "Oh Chris, is that you singing?
And my goodness, look at you. You look healthier already. Oh, I'm so
sorry, I...." She knew she had startled him when she started to speak. 

"Scared the shit outta me, Sister. I'm sorry for saying shit. But yeah
that was me singing, but I don't know where the words came from. I don't
know if there's anymore to it, is there?" 

She sat on the edge of the bed and talked with him. "It's ok, Chris.
Sometimes shit's the only word that fits. And I believe you're singing
`I'm a Little Tea Pot'. That's from way back in your childhood, whether
you sang it or not. You heard it and now you're recalling it. I never
heard you sing before, although I had heard that you were in the choir
with Tobias." 

"The choir? Like a church choir?" he couldn't believe it. "For some
reason, Sister, singing in a church choir don't feel right to me. Neither
does singing out loud where anyone can hear me. I usually sing to myself,
like when I'm stacking papers." 

"Uhhh, so Chris. Just where is it that you stack papers?" she quickly
asked hoping that whatever memory was surfacing would hurry up and get
there. 

"In the supply room. Where else?" He asked like it was just an ordinary
answer. "I stack papers! That's my job, isn't it?" Then his speech
increased in tempo. "I take care of the office stuff in the supply room.
It's not a very big room. It has two doors and lots of metal shelves and
carts in it. A light with a chain hangs from the ceiling. Not the greatest
job in the world but it's easier than working for you." 

"For me? Who works for me?" Sister Pete stood and walked towards Chris.
She then kneeled on one foot and placed her right hand on Chris's right
thigh. "Chris, think. I know you know. I'm not trying to pressure you, but
think hard. It's important for you to remember." 

"Sister, are you sure you want to keep your hand where it is?" Chris
smiled as he said this, which caused the good Sister to blush. 

"I'm sorry, Sister. Visiting Hours are over and Chris needs his rest. He's
had a busy day today. You and his other friends can come back any time
tomorrow after 11am." The nurse said pleasantly as she walked to the
chair. She was ready to offer Chris any assistance he needed. 

`Saved by the blessed bell again', thought Sr. Pete. "Good night, Chris.
I'll talk to you tomorrow." She felt like she couldn't disappear fast
enough. 

"Yeah, `night Sister." He said as he stood up without any help. `Hell has
no fury, huh Sister? Ok, I don't know where that thought came from, but it
seems to fit just about now.' Chris was smiling as he started to sit on
the bed. 

"Nurse? Is it ok if I sleep in the chair? I'd like to fall asleep looking
at the stars. I want to remember it. It might be a long time till I get to
see them again." 

She reached over to the bed and got his pillow and blanket and helped him
get settled in the chair. She adjusted the chair so it was exactly like he
wanted it. The nurse placed the bedside table close by so if he got
thirsty, the water would be there. And his call light was draped over the
back of the chair and pinned in place, just in case she was needed.  

The day Chris was discharged, was the day he was able to bullshit his way
out of the psychiatrists office. "I promise you doc, if I start feeling
depressed about anything I'll request a meeting with Sr. Pete. Cross my
heart." He said to Dr. Strickland as he made the sign of the cross. This
ended the session with the staff psychiatrist at the hospital, the one Sr.
Pete had mentioned. 

"OK then, your discharge papers have already been signed and give this
envelope to Tim McManus when you meet with him. I think there's an officer
ready to take you back to the prison." Dr. Strickland stood and shook
hands with Chris. "Good luck, son." 

TBC  Please send feedback to Rifka.