28. Chase

"It wasn'tyou in the hospital, was it?" I asked Asher.

He had been hovering in the corner of the room for the last half hour. I kept telling myself that it wasn't really him, but I could see him. He was right fucking there. But he wasn't there. He was a hallucination—a figment of my imagination. A byproduct of a fucking tumor growing in my head.

Yet, he was still there, so I talked to him.

"Which time?"

"When I was with Fox. You didn't really grab Mercy's medication or the things we needed for Nick."

"That was you. I was just along for the ride."

I frowned, trying to piece it together. "How the hell did I do all that and not know it?"

"The brain works in mysterious ways."

"That's it? That's all the fucking help you're giving me?"

He shrugged, slouching down in the chair. "What the fuck do you want me to say? I'm not really here. You're basically talking to yourself right now. You needed support, and your brain manifested me for some fucking reason."

"So, right now, I'm really having a conversation with myself. I'm making up what I think you would say in response to my questions."

"Fuck if I know," he sighed.

I let my head drop back to the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. "So, if I ask how you really are…"

"Lonely, depressed…fucking scared."

I nodded, understanding him completely. Then again, he was probably mimicking my own thoughts and feelings.

"You should have let her stay."

"I could have gotten her killed," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"Yeah, that's a great reason to push her away when all you really want is her by your side."

I huffed out a laugh as a single tear slipped down my cheek. "What would you have me do? Sit here and hold my hand while I talk with you? Then she could really see how fucking crazy I am. Thank fuck she never saw me talking to you."

"Then she would have known sooner that something was wrong," he offered.

That made it better and worse at the same time. When I thought back to standing by that cliff—how fucking devastated I was that Mercy was dead—only to lose my shit when everyone looked at me like I was about to throw myself over the cliff…Talk about a low point in my life.

"She loves you," he said quietly.

"I know."

"She'll be here when you wake up."

That's what I was afraid of. I wanted her here so desperately, but I was terrified to look her in the eyes, to see the hope that I wasn't crazy anymore. What if the surgery didn't work? What if it didn't fix a goddamn thing? What was I supposed to do then? I couldn't saddle her with a man who was losing his mind.

"I doubt she'd see it that way," Asher grunted.

"I didn't say anything."

"I'm in your head, asshole. I can hear everything you think."

"Then you should know I want a fucking cheeseburger right now."

"No, you don't. You want Mercy, but you're a fucking stubborn jackass who can't admit what he needs."

"Says the man who's hiding away from all his friends because he can't admit he needs help," I said just as the door opened.

Patrick strolled in, glancing to the chair. "Talking to yourself again?"

"Fuck off."

He strode over to the seat.

"Asher's sitting there."

He was about to sit down and slowly looked up at me. "Asher is in your head."

"And he's in the fucking chair. Find another seat."

"There are no other seats," he said, holding his hands wide. "If you'd like to hallucinate another chair for me, I'd gladly take it."

"I'll get up," Asher said, rolling his eyes.

"You shouldn't give in to that jackass," I told him. "He's fucking with you."

"He fucks with everyone," Asher retorted.

"Sorry, I don't have a brain tumor, so I can't hear the other side of these conversations. Care to fill me in?"

"Even if you had a brain tumor, you wouldn't hear what I hear. You'd probably have Salma Hayek as your hallucination. I'm stuck with this jackass."

Patrick flinched back. "Salma Hayek?" He burst out laughing. "Man, are you off base. She's hot, but I would go for someone more…"

"Like a supermodel?"

"Fascinating. Amelia Earhart."

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That's who you'd hallucinate about?"

He shrugged, settling further into his seat. "Think about it. She was pretty hot and feisty for her time. She was smart…basically Rae, but if you tell her I said that, I'll tell everyone it was the brain tumor talking. Besides, I really want to know what happened on that last flight. It keeps me up at night."

The man was crazy. "Of all the things to keep you up at night, something that happened almost a hundred years ago is the winner?"

"Hey, I watched a documentary on some guys looking for her plane. I thought I was gonna get an explanation at the end, and you know what happened? Nothing. I wasted a whole fucking hour watching it to find out that they didn't actually find her plane."

"Uh, don't you think if they did, you wouldn't have to watch a documentary to find that out?"

"I thought it was some insider information. And now, I'm left with more questions than answers. It's not right. They shouldn't put a show like that on television if they don't have the goods to back it up."

"How selfish of them."

"I know," he scoffed.

"There's just one flaw in your theory."

"How's that?"

"Well, Asher is really me. He hasn't actually told me a single thing about his life. In fact, everything he tells me are my own thoughts. So, if you had Amelia for a hallucination, she couldn't tell you a thing about what really happened."

Shocked, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Fuck, that's like…having a stripper in front of you who won't actually strip."

"Something like that."

Leaning back in his seat, he studied me. "Are you sure you don't want to see Mercy?"

"I already fucking told you?—"

"I'm just saying, a lot can go wrong in surgery. One slip and you're a vegetable."

"Thanks," I snapped. "I wasn't worried enough as it is."

"Well, that's what I'm here for."

"If you're lucky, you'll be stuck with me the rest of your life," Asher grinned.

"Thanks, but I'll take the slip of the knife first."

"You'd rather be sliced up than see your woman?" Patrick asked in confusion. "Dude, that's harsh."

"I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to Asher."

"You know, we need some kind of system to let us know when your hallucinations are taking over. I'm hurt you'd rather talk to him."

"Not rather…but he's there. Should I just ignore him?"

"Uh, that's what I would do if I didn't want people to think I was crazy. It was a good show, by the way. You know, I almost thought you were gonna jump over the edge of the cliff to rescue Mercy."

"Is there some length of time I can expect for you to be a jackass?"

"Pretty much for all eternity. It's not my fault you supplied the material."

I glanced at Asher, who was still sulking where he leaned against the wall. If I handled this wrong, I'd end up like him, alone and depressed. But I just couldn't bring myself to see Mercy, to look into her eyes knowing she understood exactly what I was going through. She'd been at death's door before, and she fucking hated the sympathetic looks and the worry in everyone's eyes. I could stand that from just about anyone but her. She always saw me as the strong protector, the man who would always take care of her. Now…

Who was I now?

"The same fucking guy as before," Asher grunted. "Just with a few more people in your head telling you what to think and do."

"Still not helpful," I grunted.

"I'm gonna assume you're talking to the hallucination again," Patrick grinned. "Well, if that's it, I'll head out and leave you two to discuss…whatever it is you discuss. Although, since you're talking to yourself, it's probably not a discussion."

"Patrick," I snapped.

"Yeah?"

"Get the fuck out."

He saluted me, then strolled out of the room without a care in the world. I closed my eyes and shut Asher out of my head. It was funny that before he came and went as he pleased, but now that I was aware of him, the fucker wouldn't leave me alone. And where was Mercy when I wanted to hallucinate her?

I dozed off, waking myself up with horrible nightmares about being left in a vegetative state or unable to walk and talk when the surgery was over. The fourth time I jolted awake, I saw Cash sitting in the corner of the room, stewing in the dark. Neither of us acknowledged that the other was there, but after that, I didn't wake even one more time until they woke me up for my procedure the next morning.

"Areyou sure you don't want me to call her?" Cash asked, watching me with that pitying look that said I was making the biggest fucking mistake of my life.

Maybe I was. Hell, I was about to have my head sliced open and I hadn't even bothered to see her once since I found out I was fucking hallucinating.

"Don't call her."

"There's still time. I could get her here?—"

"You can't get her here. She's back in Seattle."

He winced slightly, turning away from me. Guilty.

"You sent her back to Seattle, right?"

He spun and glared at me. "You told me to."

"But you didn't do it," I huffed, shaking my head at him. "I told you I didn't want her around."

"Yeah, for the stupidest fucking reasons I've ever heard."

"For valid reasons," I snapped. "I don't trust myself, and until I do, I won't have her in my life."

"She was there the whole fucking time! You protected her!"

"Yeah, until I only thought I kidnapped her from a hospital. I'm still not fucking sure what happened there. Did I kidnap a real person? Or a corpse?"

"It was a corpse."

"Great. I stole a dead body. That's fucking peachy."

He waved me off. "Don't worry about it. I talked with the authorities. Apparently, you stole a body donated to science."

"And I just left it rotting somewhere? Fuck, when would the madness end? "What are the charges for stealing a corpse?"

"It's all worked out. The situation was explained. No one's pressing charges."

"Gee, that's a relief. At least if I die on the table, I know I won't have someone's loved ones coming after me."

"Actually, they might. The police and the hospital are trying to convince the family that it was a legitimate mistake."

"Cash, a legitimate mistake would be if I had intended to take a body and grabbed the wrong one. I was intending to take a live person and ended up with a dead one. I'm not sure how you convince the family that everything's hunky dory."

"You have a brain tumor!" he snapped. "It wasn't your fault."

I turned to Asher and raised an eyebrow. "Care to jump in anytime soon?"

He shrugged. "I'm enjoying the show. I've never seen someone try to convince others that he belonged in jail. It's an interesting twist."

"I'm not saying I belong in jail. I'm saying the situation is fucked up."

"And this isn't?" he questioned. "It's not even a little weird to have a conversation with me in front of your boss?"

"He already knows you're there. Why hide it?"

"I don't know. So he doesn't decide to fire you after the surgery?"

I turned to Cash. "Would you do that?"

"Um…in case you didn't know, I can't hear your conversations with your hallucination."

"Would you fire me after the surgery?"

"Why would I do that?"

Asher leaned forward. "The real question is why would he tell you now?"

"Chase, I'm not firing you. You're on medical leave until you're cleared for duty."

"Cleared for duty," Asher laughed. "When are any of us ever cleared for duty? After all the shit we've seen and done, it's amazing more of us aren't in a straight jacket. And you're seeing people! That should be an automatic discharge."

"Shut up," I growled, trying to push him out of my head.

"Ignore him," Cash said, stepping forward.

"I'm trying to, but he's right there. And he's in my head. His thoughts are my thoughts. Those are kind of hard to ignore."

"Look, this will be over soon and then you'll be good as new?—"

"You don't know that," I snapped. "What if when they cut it out it fucks with other things? What if I can't fucking walk or talk? What the hell do I do then? Are you gonna cover all my medical costs? Are you gonna pay for a nurse to wipe my ass when I'm paralyzed?"

I didn't even know if any of that was possible. I zoned out as the doctor listed the many possible complications with the surgery. But the closer the time came to having the procedure, the more I wanted to walk away. I could live out my life for however long that would be in peace, with all my body parts still functioning.

He gripped my shoulder, staring down at me intently. "Whatever happens, we'll get through this. I swear to you. The whole fucking team is behind you."

I glanced in the corner of the room and saw my hallucination shaking his head at me. Everyone was here except for one man.

Ignoring him, I switched subjects. "Are my parents here yet?"

"They should be here any minute."

I nodded. "Maybe you could meet them downstairs and explain things before they get up here."

He knew I was trying to get rid of him, but thankfully didn't argue. "Sure. I'll take care of it."

I stared at the clock, watching the minutes tick down on my life. In my job, I always knew something could happen that would end it all. But there was always a good chance that I would come out of things with little injury. But I couldn't rely on my skills and training for this. There was no mission to prepare for and no one on comms to help me out in a tough spot. I was all on my own, totally at the mercy of the doctors.

Mercy.