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slashingdisneypasta · 18 hours

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This is... SOoooooooooo good, man 💕💛💕💛💕💛 I already told you how it effected me good in messages but!!!! The background?, the hospital bits?, the e n d i n g!??? I-

You and I May Never Get This Right

Fandom: Lake Placid

Pairing: Jim Bickerman x reader

Word count: 4,479

Warning: Hospitalization, mention of serious injuries (loss of limbs), ptsd, panic attacks, age gap relationships,

Author's Note: Don't hate me for how I ended this. There may be more in the future. As always, not beta read. Mistakes are mine. Likes are always appreciated, but reblogs and comments are cherished and feed the brain.

Tagging: @slashingdisneypasta & @tinalbion

The ringing of the phone interrupted the quiet peace. The sound was wholly unexpected and caused you to jolt. The mindless haze that you had fallen in going through the familiar motions of fishing. After the hellish week that you had at work, a trip out into the woods for a few days on your own consisting of fishing and camping had been just what you needed. You had thought for sure that you wouldn't have service out here but apparently, that had been a mistake.

There was an instance where you debated ignoring it entirely. If it was your place of employment, you might just throw the phone into the pond. Despite how much it would cost to replace. Something in your gut told you that you had to pick it up. Groaning, you pushed up from your chair, carefully setting aside your fishing pole so it didn't end up in the water if something did bite in the absence, and moved back towards your camp and your tent.

Rummaging around, it had stopped ringing only to start up again. Whoever was calling clearly needed to speak with you. Finally, you freed the object from the bag but didn't recognize the number at all. No business was coming up.

“Hello?” Whoever was on the other end of the line sounded professional. One of those scripted sorts of voices. They wanted to confirm that you were you before saying anything else. Frowning, you did as asked and confirmed who you were before more information came. It was a hospital calling about James Bickerman. There had been some sort of incident? Something about him being brought to the hospital in bad shape and there needing to be someone there that could make decisions. Your number was the only thing listed.

“Um, uh, yeah. Yeah. I gotta grab a flight. I can be there within the day, though, hopefully no more than a few hours, but I don't know when I'll be able to get a flight out. Did you need me to do anything before that? I will have my phone on me the entire time.” They asked about blood transfusions and life-saving measures such as intubation and CPR. Jesus Christ, what the hell had Jim managed to get into?

Jim Bickerman was a name that you hadn't heard in several long years. He had been your older brother's best friend. You had been the accident, with your brother close to twenty-five years older than you. The two were as thick as thieves, always getting into trouble and mischief. By the time that you were a teenager, you were sucked into that sort of trouble. With a smaller stature, you could slip into places that they couldn't. An innocent face that most people believed when you lied for them. A look out that could actually be trusted to do the job. You fit all those sort of roles for them. Of course, it was cliche, but you had a crush on the man. Not that you had expected anything to come to fruition in regards to it, keeping the fact to yourself the best that you could. A drunken night in your mid twenties resulted in a closeness that had developed further into what could have been considered a relationship. Was your brother thrilled with it? He went back and forth. He liked the fact that he knew the man that you were with, but at the same time, he was a bit freaked out and disturbed that it was his best friend.

Things had been really good for quite a while. There were a few bumps in the road in terms of getting in trouble with the law, but nothing that major or that you couldn't get over. After all, while you were in constant mischief and trouble, it wasn't the major sort that would see any of you going away to prison for any sort of extended time. All the local bars and police officers knew you all by first name.

Life had a way of happening, though. While you had all come from relatively nothing, being poor and scraping and scrapping in order to get by, Jim had this sort of intense and overwhelming drive for money. Enough so that it started to cause the two of you to clash every now and then. The passing of your mother and then followed by your brother in seemingly rapid succession had seemed to be the final nail in the coffin. You had to get out of Maine, get away from the mess that had taken over your life. The fact hadn't been taken well by Jim, who refused to leave. He was supposed to be getting the cabin that he had grown up in. The cabin was something that he was not willing to give up on. Things had quickly devolved from there for you both, to the point that it made it easy to walk away. Well, easier than it had been at first. Even if you had hoped something more would have come from the man. It had hurt and had been hard, even if his behavior made the decision more justified. He has tried to get you to stay but the cabin had been more important.

That had been close to ten years ago. A part of your life that you had left in the past. A fresh start had done wonders for you. Trouble with the law had vanished from your life. You had gotten a stable job, one that you didn't exactly enjoy, but it paid the bills well enough and allowed you the ability to have weekends to yourself. That allowed plenty of fishing and camping trips, with the occasional interruption.

Now, that peace had been thoroughly shattered. You had never expected for Jim to still have your name down as an emergency contact. That heavy feeling that had invaded your chest during that first call remained, growing worse the longer things went on. A few more phone calls came from the doctors. Assurance that he was alive, but it seemed like he needed multiple surgeries, and they had to start to be able to save what they could.

When the plane landed, you felt fully sick to your stomach. Renting a car felt like it took far too long. The familiar paths hadn't changed all that much since you had been awhile. Land a little more developed here and there, but that was barely acknowledged. Arriving at the hospital, your only thought was laying eyes on Jim. The picture that had been painted had not been pretty, and there was only so much that could be done to brace yourself for it. Sitting behind the wheel, finally parked at the hospital, your hands shook, and it felt like you couldn't breathe. Could you do this again? Was it going to be a repeat of your brother all over? Sweat trickled down your neck, and your vision blurred for a moment. Fumbling for the handle of the door, you managed to throw it open, leaning out and gasping. Thankfully, no one was around to see the near breakdown.

It took several long minutes for you to be able to calm down and regain control of your breathing so it didn't seem like you had run here instead of drove. Ending up in a bed next to Jim wouldn't do any good for either of you. Counting each breath, inhaling for a few seconds, holding, and then exhaling for the same amount of time.

Feeling just slightly more put together, you headed inside. The lady at the desk was hardly helpful, but the security guard was someone that you recognized. A man that you had gone to school with, and he was kind enough to lead you to the right floor, where the doctors had taken over from there. Now that you were there in person, you were able to get far more information than what they had provided over the phone. The accident? A crocodile attack. Jim had lost his left arm and his left leg. There had been internal bleeding that had been difficult to stop, a laceration to his liver the cause. His left eye had been damaged to the point that it had to be removed, a rock having lodged into the orbital socket as a result of the attack.

He had just gotten out of surgery by the time that you had managed to get through. They didn't expect him to wake for several hours, if that. With the blood loss, trauma, and surgery, he was alive, but that didn't guarantee anything. While you weren't prepared to go to the room, there was little choice in the matter. No one would make you, but you were there and had to go see him.

The sight of the man in the bed caused your knees to go weak. The nurse that had brought you to the room attempted to soothe you by placing a hand on your back.

“It's okay.” No. No, it wasn't. The body in the bed was almost unrecognizable. Pale, bandaged, and hooked up to a load of machines. Hell, his face looked a little sunken in even. He hardly looked like the Jim you knew. Even if that Jim was several years younger than the Jim in the bed. Crossing your arms to give your fingers something to grasp, you moved forward and took a seat in the chair beside the bed.

“Thank you.” A brief utterance to the nurse. The only other noise in the room was the beat of the heart rate monitor and the hiss of the supplemental oxygen that they had him on. Closing your eyes, you tried to ignore the rush of blood in your ears, trying to grasp onto the machine generated beep. Steady. It wasn't too fast or too slow. It helped give you something to focus on and bring yourself down. If you weren't so worried at the moment, you would have been cursing up a storm and yelling at him. Unconsciously or not. They said that people in comas and such could hear what was being said to them after all. For now, though, all you could do was sit there and let the worry eat you alive. The steady rise and fall of his chest, on his own without mechanical intervention, wasn't enough to ease it.

*****************

At some point, you must have nodded off, sleep pulling you under without warning. You remembered staring off out the window while hoping Jim would wake up. The next thing you knew, you were cracking your eyes open against the bright light of the morning and a nurse standing over the bed, doing a vitals check.

“The least ya can do for an old man is get him a drink.” His voice was rough, but there was no mistaking it for anyone else. He was alive and awake.

“The last thing you need right now is a drink, you old bastard,” you replied before the nurse could, standing up out of the seat and shifting to the edge of the bed. Jim's eye wandered the room for a moment before finally settling on you. It took a second for the light of recognition to appear, and somehow, he managed a smile.

“Well, hey there, dumpling.” You couldn't help the roll of your eyes at the pet name. But right then, there would be no calling him out on it. “What are you doing here?” It was actually a viable question. His faculties, what little he started with, seemed to be intact. Which was a good sign. A low sigh escaped from you, and his brow furrowed.

“Apparently, I'm still listed as your emergency contact. And since you went off on some suicide mission, I got the call.” A pause. Swallow. Stay composed. Don't let him know how deeply affected you were by this. “And as much as I wanted to stay fishing, I couldn't let your dumb ass die.” Something indescribable passed over his face. Nothing that you could place. All before that familiar smirk had appeared once more.

“Maybe I should get myself chewed on a little more often if it's gonna be bringing you around.” The nurse excused herself, giving you two a little time. Even if you tried desperately to keep her presence in the room for the sake of your sanity. Being alone with the man and this out of control of your emotions was not a good combination.

“You're an absolute ass. I see that a near death experience hasn't changed that.”

“Aww, come on. Ya gotta be nice to me, dumpling. I'm a cripple now.” The tease about his condition fell just a little flat. At least he seemed to be taking it in stride. You weren't sure you would be able to manage even snark if you were lying in bed like that. The comment managed to bring a smile, one that you hadn't thought would come. Maybe it was tinged with relief that he was himself and that familiarity felt good under the circumstances. You hadn't had this chance with your brother.

“Cripple or not, you're still a grumpy bastard.” He has the audacity to wink playfully or make the attempt, and there was no stifling the small laugh that just broadened his own smile. Jim would always be Jim. And as much as you had tried to put it all behind you, you had missed the man. His hand had found yours in those quiet seconds and gave it a small squeeze. Not begrudging him the comfort, if that was what he needed, you returned the gesture and kept your fingers laced with his.

“Maybe so, but it never bothered ya before. If anything, think it's what attracted ya in the first place.” Pulling your chair closer, you shook your head. Might as well get settled in since it was going to be a bit before you got out of here. You couldn't bring yourself to be annoyed about the fact either. He was alive and the relief that came with that fact was near overwhelming.

*****************

“For fuck sakes….” The phrase might as well have been tattooed on you somewhere with how often it was uttered up into the air. As if some twisted prayer. A desperate cry for strength to tolerate the horrible patient that was before you.

“Ah, just in time. Come on over here and help me with this, sweetheart.”

“Jim….” You paused and took a slow breath. How the nurses hadn't entirely lost it on him was beyond comprehension. Or maybe they were just drawing straws on rotation to see who was dealing with him next. “Get your ass back in bed! You aren't going anywhere.”

“Aww, come on. You don't have to be like that. We’re just going on a short walk.” He used we, as in plural, including you in whatever plan he had in mind. “Can't stare at these walls anymore. And like hell I'm being pushed around in that chair.” The words stirred up a sense of sympathy. He couldn't be blamed for going stir crazy stuck in the room for three weeks now while healing and starting rehab. His prosthetics had been in early in the week, and while he was still learning to walk with the new leg, he wasn't keen on waiting before pushing himself, it seemed.

Jim was hopping on his one leg, trying to get the pants that you had brought him in a change of clothes at the beginning of the week, settled on his waist.

“I know you are going stir crazy. Hell, I am at this point just visiting you, and I get to leave. But you can't be pushing yourself too much, or you are just going to be stuck here longer than necessary. Such a thing as setting back your own recovery.”

“Sweetheart, I'm fixing to jump out that window if I don't get out of this room for something other than rehab. So, you can help me or head out so you don't get in trouble.” Groaning, you glanced towards the ceiling, counting back from ten before moving forward to help him finish getting dressed. The closeness allowed him to get a few cheeky touches in, all under the guise of keeping his balance and such. You knew better but were unbothered by it. Being here had brought all those feelings right back to the surface and damn it if you still didn't love the man.

“Since you can't be trusted to keep yourself in one piece or not to do something foolish, guess I'm stuck helping you. See, this is how I ended up in trouble when we were younger. All your damn fault.” He laughed.

“Way I remember it you were all too eager to help.” How could this man still make you feel like a teenager with a silly crush.

“Young, impressionable, and dumb. That's what I'm calling it.” You gave him a little push to get him back on the bed, causing him to chuckle, all before helping him make sure the prosthetic was in place. Him hopping around would attract too much attention. You winced at the still raw looking around. The surgeons had done a fantastic job. “You sure? This still looks like it's not gonna feel great, Jim.”

“Oh, I'm more than sure.” You nodded and got him settled. He kept an arm around your shoulders, both as an excuse to hold you and an extra support as he moved along.

“Come on then, let's get you moving a bit. We are only going for a short walk, okay? Then it's back in bed.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He laughed, and you rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless. Glancing out into the hall, none of the nurses seemed to be paying attention. A few tentative steps were taken before you both realized no one was going to stop you. “You uh, you didn't bring anything to drink this time, didcha?” The man was impossible. But, he had broken you down with the requests.

“Just keep walking for a bit here, okay.”

“Ya did. Knew I could count on you.”

“As if that would ever change?” The comment slipped before you could think about it. Out in the open now, and he would take it as he pleased. Getting into the elevator, you hit the button to lead you down to the cafeteria. There was a coffee shop close to it where you could at least get a decent dose of caffeine. He could mix his alcohol with it to hide it from the nurses. The minimal amount that you had gotten in.

“Easy there, buttercup. Give me a second.” The strain to the words told you that he was hurting more than he let on, and you instantly pulled to a stop, allowing him to lean against the wall and gain his breath back.

“Better than I thought we would do, actually. Let's get you to the chairs up there, and I'll get us some coffee.” He nodded, giving it another minute before pushing himself off of the wall and bracing himself further against you. It was no more than twenty feet. Once he was settled into the chair, you moved off to get the promised coffee.

Since you couldn't juggle both coffees and get the alcohol into his, you had to settle for carrying both of them back and plopping down into the seat beside him.

“Here, hold mine for a second…” You passed him the cup that you knew for a fact was yours before reaching into the pocket of your jacket and pulling out a small flask. One that Jim had actually gifted you, though that wasn't anywhere near the forefront of your mind.

“That the one I got you for your twenty-first?” The question didn't register at first as you poured a little bit of the liquor into the cup before a hum came from him, attempting to catch your attention.

“I'm sorry, what?” You looked up as you finished, putting the cap back on the small flask and taking your coffee back, holding his out to him. He repeated the question, causing you to blink for a second and look down at the pocket that you had safely tucked the flask in. “Uh, yeah, yeah, it is.” A sound came from him, something that you couldn’t entirely identify and didn't really want to right then as he decided to take a sip of his drink instead.

Once the cups were empty and the coffee was finished, you had felt that he had been out of his room long enough. The nurses were going to ream you for having him out this long, but it had helped him and would hopefully keep him feeling a little less ornery for the next day or so.

“All right, let's get you back to your room.” The walk was a little slower, with him feeling the effects of the walk on his still healing body. It was wholly unsurprising if anyone were to ask your opinion. Getting him back to bed, he was wincing and unable to hide it. It made you feel just a bit bad, though you knew that he would say it was worth it.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he murmured softly, so softly that you almost missed it. His eyes were closed as he reclined back in the bed, clearly spent from the small outing. Smiling to yourself, you settled down in the chair, deciding to spend the rest of the afternoon with the man, even if he slept through it.

***************************************

“Ya know….” Jim was drawing out his words, which meant that he was waiting for you to turn your attention in his direction. Some things never changed. You finally turned to look at him after stuffing the last shirt into the bag. “You don't have to leave.” He was leaning against the doorframe, not quite looking at you. This had the beginnings of a conversation that you really didn't want to have. It hadn't gone well for you before.

“I've used up all my time off. And then some. I have to get back before I don't have a job to go back to. You're home, Jim. Able to be independent. You are back on your feet and don't need me around anymore.” You almost said that you didn't have a reason to stay. Because technically, it was true. You didn't have a reason to stay. Your feelings weren't enough. At least, that was what you kept telling yourself in hopes of making this entire thing easier. It hadn't really worked. That ache that had happened when you had left the first time all those years ago was just as strong now as it had been then. It made the most sense to leave. Just as it had back then. You had a nice little life set up for yourself. Being here? Well, it would be a hard decision.

“You don’t have to go. You're back here. It’s where you should be.” He was going to make this difficult. Apparently, time did not heal all wounds. He was standing in the doorway and refusing to move out of the way. Maybe this whole incident had given him a slightly new perspective on life. “I know you don't want to go back either. So, why are you going to do what you don't want to do? Not like you had ever done something you didn't want to do before, Why with this?” There wasn’t a good answer there. Because everything felt far too convoluted and messy. There were reasons to stay and reasons to leave. His gaze had finally turned to you and felt heavy, practically pinning you in your place.

“Because it is not a smart idea, Jim. Staying around. It's better for me to leave.”

“That's bullshit. You can't bullshit a bullshitter, dumpling.” Yeah, that was hard to argue with.

“Jim, please can we not…” He huffed, though he had clearly decided that he wasn't going to let go of this issue. If there was one thing that Jim Bickerman could be called without a doubt, it was stubborn.

“You coulda left my old ass to die. But you didn't. You still came out and stayed. You coulda made those decisions and left.” He was right. Why did he have to be right? It made any argument that you made to leave that much more difficult. Slowly, his lips turned upwards slightly, as if he knew he had won this part of the argument. You sighed and rubbed your eyes.

“What do you want me to say?” He had worked around every single phrase besides I want you to stay the first time that you had left. It was his turn to show his frustrations over the entire thing. His hand and hook waved in the air for a moment, though the words didn't come.

“I want you to say that I'm right and that you want to stay.” He wasn't going to let this go. Could you say that you didn't want to? Could you say that you wanted to? The words were stuck in your throat. Why did he have to make this so damn difficult? The treacherous voice in the back of your mind whispered that it wasn't him that was making it difficult. He had tried the first time around, maybe not as hard as you had hoped somewhere deep within, but he had certainly tried. This was him trying again. Maybe you had foolishly hoped he had moved on, that things had changed. Yet, it was the same scenario all over again. Except, it felt more serious than it had last time.

Looking at him should have reminded you why you decided it was better to distance yourself. He made stupid decisions in chasing after money and whatever big payday that he thought was next. But Jim was loyal and underneath it all there was some part of him that was good-hearted. Even if it took a few layers to get through. Others often didn't get to see it.

You weren't able to get a response out, apparently taking too long for his liking. Because the next thing you knew, he was stepping forward, invading your space like he used to do all those years ago. Guess the old man wasn't feeling all that old at that moment. No words came. Instead, he hooked a hand around the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss. One last desperate attempt to get you to agree to stay.

“Say you want to stay.” The words came out far softer this time, almost a plea. Almost.

“Jim…” You forced yourself to meet his gaze, decision made.

#this kinda makes me wanna try and write that wayne memory loss fic again #i think i got rid of it but it'd be good to start fresh on it anyway 🤔

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