Don’t Let Me Fall, Chapter 9
A/N Here is the next chapter of my crazy circus story. Sorry for leaving readers hanging off that cliff for longer than intended. Hopefully this installment makes up for it. The end of this fic is now in sight, and I can confirm it will have eleven chapters. Thank you so much for all the wonderful comments and support!
All previous chapters can be found here.
He’d been injured enough times in his rambunctious youth to recognize the smell of a hospital before he even opened his eyes. Sticky eyelashes clinging together, his first sight was of a light blue bed curtain and the uniform squares of ceiling tiles. His memory was a bit slower to focus as he tried to recall what country he was in and what he’d done to deserve urgent medical care this time.
“The king of the jungle awakes.”
The voice held an American drawl and came from a middle-aged black man wearing a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck.
“Where am I?” Jamie rasped, his throat dry and tight. He had no recollection of being in the United States.
The doctor’s vaguely amused expression turned concerned.
“You don’t remember what city you’re in, son?”
Jamie thought hard. He’d gone home to Scotland to attend his niece’s baptism. Jenny had harangued him about giving up his ‘jet setting lifestyle’ and settling down with a worthy lass. He’d missed Claire something fierce but returned to Australia conflicted whether it was a good idea to pursue a relationship with her while they were still performing together. The internal debate, together with a wicked case of jetlag, had kept him up at all hours. After another near-sleepless night, he’d come to the realization that life was too short to waste time worrying about unforeseeable consequences. He’d resolved to make his intentions towards his Tourist clear at the first opportunity. And then he’d fallen from the straps.
“Melbourne?” he replied to the doctor with some uncertainty, his brain still foggy with what he now recognized as pain medication.
“That’s right. I’m Doctor Abernathy, your orthopedic surgeon. Besides being a bit groggy, which is understandable, how are you feeling?”
Jamie did a mental inventory of his body. Even partially numb, his left shoulder felt a bit tender.
“My shoulder aches a wee bit,” he confessed.
“Yes, we had to reset the joint, but once the swelling goes down, it should be good as new.”
Relieved, Jamie closed his eyes. He didn’t cherish the notion of missing any shows, but that was what they had understudies for.
“How long a’fore I’m able to perform again?”
The silence stretched on long enough for him to re-open his eyes. The doctor’s lips were tightened in a grim line. Now that his mind was beginning to clear, the fact that he was being monitored by a surgeon didn’t bode particularly well either.
“James, I’m not going to lie to you, the damage that I’m seeing on the x-rays and MRI of your wrist… I’ll do my best to repair the bone so that you regain full use of your hand, but given the nature of your work…”
Jamie glanced down at his right wrist, only now realizing that it was immobilized with a neoprene splint. It had been bothering him something fierce for the past few weeks. Roland had diagnosed it as a mild strain and applied a numbing cream before each show. Jamie hadn’t mentioned it to Claire because he didn’t want to worry her and because most of the time he spent in her company he was fighting the urge to kiss her until the seas ran dry. Now he was being told that he’d never soar through the air with her in his arms again due to a hereto unheard-of ailment that had apparently pulverized the bone in his wrist to dust.
“Listen, I know it’s a lot to take in,” Doctor Abernathy continued after going over the medical details of his condition and treatment plan. “I’m going to schedule your surgery for the day after next. In the meantime, there’s a young lady in a skimpy outfit haunting my hallways and making a general nuisance of herself. Can you take pity on the nursing staff and let me show her in?”
Despite the circumstances Jamie smiled.
“Aye. I’d like that verra much.”
***
I didn’t like hospitals. All my life, they had been the scenes of painful events: the grainy memory of my parents’ deaths, my Uncle Lamb wasting away from cancer, and more recently a career-ending injury.
As soon as I was able, I had rushed from the big top and grabbed an Uber to the Royal Melbourne Hospital. The Cirque medic assured me that Jamie’s life was not in danger, but I couldn’t erase the nauseating wallop of his body hitting the stage from my mind. I needed to be submerged in the oceans of his gaze, watch a grin transform his mobile mouth like a rogue sunbeam. When he held my hand in his own, I would know everything was alright.
Upon arriving at the hospital, I was told Jamie was undergoing x-rays and afterward would be admitted for observation. He’d been sedated while his shoulder was reset, but the admitting nurse assured me I could visit with him once he woke. That was four hours ago. Unlike the kindly woman in admissions, the ward staff were disinclined to provide me with any information about a patient to whom I was not related, only repeating that he was ‘resting comfortably’.
The sound of a chair scraping the floor startled me from my stupor. John Grey, dressed in his street clothes and carrying a steaming extra-large coffee, sat down beside me.
“How is he doing?” he asked as he handed me the drink.
I didn’t know how I felt about John anymore, but the fact remained that of all our colleagues, he was the only one to join me in my midnight vigil. Jamie had explained that they’d been friends since circus school, and I trusted Jamie’s judgement above all things, no matter how damning the evidence.
“I haven’t been able to see him yet, but the medical staff assure me he’s not in danger.”
John nodded, leaning back and stretching his legs with a groan.
“Tomorrow’s performance has been canceled,” he informed me. “Probably the following night’s as well. I know it’s the last thing on your mind, but we’ll need to find time to rehearse the routine.”
I stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. It hadn’t even occurred to me that I’d be expected to keep performing without Jamie as my partner.
“I’m Jamie’s understudy, remember?” John clarified when I didn’t respond.
“I suppose congratulations are in order, then.” I hadn’t meant to sound churlish, but I found it untenable that anyone should benefit from Jamie’s fall.
“Claire,” John entreated, laying a hand on the chilled skin of my arm. “Jamie being injured is the last thing I want. If I could trade places with him, I would in a heartbeat. There is no ulterior motive here beyond making Tropico a success. You know that’s what Jamie would want as well.”
“I saw you,” I accused, too tired and wrung out to beat around the bush. “Going into Marylebone’s hotel room in Singapore.”
I mentally dared John to deny it. Instead, he shook his head ruefully but met my eyes, his own deep brown and earnest.
“That wasn’t what it looked like. I was… well, let’s just say I was making amends. You have to believe me, Claire.”
Before I could grill John on what exactly ‘making amends’ meant, Jamie’s doctor stepped into the corridor. I was on my feet in an instant, the conversation with John forgotten.
“He’s awake, but still a bit groggy from the sedative we gave him,” he said without preamble. “I’ll be back in the morning to check on him. Until then, I don’t suppose either of you answers to the name of Tourist?”
I threw my arms around the man, who inexplicably sounded like he hailed from Texas.
“Woah there,” he laughed. “Now I’m going to have to explain to my wife how I managed to get covered in glitter while working a double shift.”
“Thank you very much, doctor.” John’s relief was utterly uncontrived. Feeling uncharitable after my earlier accusation, I paused in my rush towards Jamie’s room.
��John? I’m sure Jamie would appreciate seeing an old friend. After I’ve had a chance to visit with him, that is.”
John sank back down into the uncomfortable chair he’d just vacated.
“Take your time.”
***
Jamie was reeling in the aftermath of Doctor Abernathy’s prognosis when Claire arrived in his hospital room like a sunbeam on a cloudy day. Even in pain, even knowing that his circus career was over, even anticipating their upcoming separation by both geography and circumstance, he couldn’t fail to warm in the bright rays of her smile.
“Hello there,” she murmured, sounding shy and a bit hoarse from fatigue.
“Claire,” he exhaled on a sigh, likewise a bit tongue-tied.
His left side was in a sling to protect his shoulder, so she reached for his right hand before freezing mid-motion, having just noticed the splint immobilizing his wrist.
“I didn’t realize you’d injured both arms when you fell,” she commented, hands hovering as though she wanted to make contact, testify to his wholeness via touch, but couldn’t bear to cause him any further pain.
Jamie grimaced, not eager to relay the significance of his injury when he’d only just begun to re-catalog his partner’s infinite wonders: her skin, luminous even beneath the pallid lights; her curls, a burn in spate cascading over her shoulders now that she’d loosened her bun; her expression, as forthright and eloquent as a masthead. Once he told her, the ties between them would be severed before they had the chance to build a fresh bond, one that didn’t rely on their status as colleagues. For the thousandth time, Jamie cursed his previous hesitation.
“Pull up a chair, Tourist. I’ve some news tae share wi’ ye.”
Jamie related what Doctor Abernathy had just told him, trying to split the difference between optimism and realism. Tears streaked unheeded down Claire’s cheeks, each one of them a tiny lance aimed straight at his heart.
“Dinna weep, Claire,” he begged as he finished his tale. “It wasna as though I believed I’d be an aerialist forever, and John will serve ye well as a partner.”
Amber sparks flew from her eyes as she ground out, “You think I’m crying because of a goddamned circus act? Christ, Jamie, you…” her hands scrabbled in the air, seemingly searching for words. “You held on to that bloody strap while your wrist fell apart. In what I can only imagine was excruciating pain. For me. You did that for me.”
“Aye, I did. And I’d do it over again in a heartbeat, if it meant saving ye from harm.” As surely as a compass pointed north, this he knew as truth to the marrow of his bones.
“Because you love me,” Claire said. It sounded like an accusation, and perhaps it was. In his life, romantic love was a weakness, a chink in his armour to be exploited to another’s benefit. Not Claire, though, whose heart was purer than fire, who cared ferociously and without artifice.
“Aye, I do,” he conceded. “But Tourist, with everything changin’ between us…”
She lay a finger gently across his lips, finally finding a place where she could touch him safely.
“It’s like someone very wise told me recently, Jamie,” she interrupted, face drawing close enough that he could make out the golden sunbursts around the well of her pupils. The cadence of his pulse accelerated, making his wrist throb in agony that he entirely ignored in favour of watching Claire’s mouth caress each syllable.
“You have to be willing to fall to fly,” followed by Trojan horse words that stole beneath his weary defences and unlocked the gates of his heartache from within. “I love you too, Jamie.”
Not waiting for his response, she kissed him. As tender as a prayer and audacious as hope, the moments after their mouths pressed together flipped Jamie’s life on its head. Up was down. Pain brought pleasure. Distancing himself from her love was like trying to hide the daylight from the sun. In her thrall was exactly where he belonged.
Regretfully, the kiss was over before Jamie could organize his wrecked limbs to reach behind Claire and pull her closer. He worried she would confuse his lack of response for lack of interest, but when her love-drunk eyes fluttered opened his fears vanished.
“Do we have the worst timing, or what?” she chuckled as she settled back in her chair, both hands now caressing his upper arm and chest.
“Quite possibly, aye. I want nothin’ more than tae take ye in my arms and ne’er let go, and I canna even touch ye,” he lamented.
“We’ve got all the time in the word for that, once you’re well.”
Floating on a wave of endorphins and euphoria, Jamie still had enough sense to realize it wouldn’t be quite so simple. Claire was a brilliant performer and Cirque des Etoiles would certainly want to keep her busy after Tropico’s tour was done. Three months, possibly six, and then she’d be on the road again with a new show. And that was saying nothing of his own upended employment and work visa situation.
Still, lying in a hospital bed with her warm palms caressing his skin, he was more optimistic than he had any right to be. As fate had demonstrated time and again since they first met, there was little they couldn’t overcome when they faced it together.
“I should let you get some rest,” she said regretfully after he suppressed his third yawn.
“Will ye come by tomorrow?” He was desperate to spend as much time as he could in Claire’s company. Both because it soothed him, but also because he knew he’d be travelling back to Montreal soon after his surgery, and Tropico would be moving on to Perth in another week. It would be weeks before they’d see each other again.
“Of course. I have to organize some rehearsal time with John, but…. Oh, that reminds me! John wants to see you.”
“What, now?” he asked, glancing out the window at the pitch-black sky. It must be close to two in the morning.
“Yes, he’s waiting in the hall. I can tell him you’re sleeping…”
“Nah, s’alright, Tourist. Send him in.”
Claire made a fuss looking for her jacket and purse, neither of which she’d thought to bring with her during the mad dash to the hospital. Perhaps he was flattering himself, but she seemed loathe to leave, despite her obvious exhaustion.
“Alright, I suppose I’ll be off. Don’t visit with John for too long. You need to rest.”
“Nagging already, is it?” he teased, delighting in her blush.
“Well, somebody’s got to watch over you, Fraser,” she huffed in faux exasperation.
The teasing mood left him in an instant, leaving him unaccountably moved.
“I couldna ask fer a better, nor more lovely, minder. I’m honoured ye’ve chosen me, Claire.”
The goodbye kiss she graced him with then was passionate and warm, tongues darting past panting lips to explore virgin territory. By the time she pulled away, his body was humming with longing that he could do nothing to assuage.
“Uh, Tourist? A’fore ye leave, could ye…um… hand me yon wee blanket?”
Equally flushed, Claire raised an expressive brow but made to tuck the woolen throw around his shoulders, assuming he was cold.
“No’ there. Across my lap, if ye please. I dinna want John getting any false impressions of how excited I am tae see him, y’ken?”
Claire’s chortling laugh could be heard echoing down the hallway long after John entered the room.
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