Chapter Thirteen

“Sif, do you have everything?” Thor asked as he joined Sif and Violet at the portcullis.

“All I need is myself,” the frost fae snidely replied, patting her fannypack. “I have the soulblade and Violet’s Queensguard blade. Are you sure you have everything?”

Violet studied him, her eyes wide in shock. He’d traded the ceremonial-type armor he wore around Valhalla for surprisingly stylish street clothes. Motorcycle boots in rich black leather, dark denim jeans in a fashionable boot cut, a somewhat too-tight light gray tee shirt, and a leather jacket. He’d pulled his unruly curly blond hair back in a tight, slick ponytail that gathered at the nape of his neck. He’d also trimmed his beard substantially. A backpack was slung over his shoulder and he held his war hammer, the fabled and faithful Mjolnir in his right hand.

“I’m prepared,” Thor replied. “Now, for operations like this, we need a cover story. Sif, you’re my daughter—don’t roll your eyes at me young lady, how many times have we done this?”

Sif glowered but resisted rolling her eyes.

“Violet, you’re going to be transported back into your body. I’ll be honest with you, it’s going to be quite unpleasant. You’ve been in a coma for two months so try not to be frustrated with your body when it doesn’t respond the way it does here,” Thor continued. “You’ve been training to be a warrior and you’re going back into a very weak body. Take it slow.”

“Noted,” Violet said, nodding. “And how am I going to explain knowing you two?”

They started walking toward the portcullis and Thor shoved Mjolnir into the backpack. He slung it back over his back and smiled at her.

“I’m going to introduce myself at your workplace and see about fighter tryouts,” Thor all but purred.

“You’re enjoying this far too much already,” Sif dismally chirped.

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Sif?” Thor laughed. “Will I need to enroll you in daycare or can you take care of yourself?”

“I hate you,” Sif replied, grabbing one of each of their hands.

*****

I think she’s waking up…

Disembodied voices and noises began to filter in. Then the pain. So much pain everywhere, all at once. She heard herself groan but even her own voice sounded far away. She realized then that she couldn’t breathe and panic hit her hard.

Her eyes flew open. Strange, foreign faces hovered around her. Someone barked orders that didn’t yet make any sense to her. Hands like vices gripped both her arms and held her down. She cast her eyes wildly around, looking for something safe, something familiar…

“Shhh, shhh, you’re okay Vi,” cut through the blinding lights and cacophonous noise.

And then his face was before hers, smiling, happy tears coursing down his cheeks.

She tried to move her lips to say his name but something impeded her.

“Shh, don’t talk, it’s okay. It’s okay. They gotta get the tubes out but you’re okay,” Peyton gently said in laughing relief, his hand smoothing over her forehead and back over her hair. “Just stay calm, darlin’. Let ‘em work. You’ve been out a real long time.”

“Is she really awake?” someone said from off to her right somewhere.

An instant later, Dezzy’s tanned handsome face and bright green eyes swam into view.

“Oh! Oh there she is! Vi! Oh my god!” Dezzy cried when their eyes met.

“Gentlemen, we need room to work. If you could please wait in the lounge—” a nurse was saying.

“All due respect ma’am, but we’ve waited long enough,” Peyton replied, an uncharacteristic note of temper in his voice.

Dezzy sat on one side of her and Peyton sat on the other, each holding one of her hands. The doctors and nurses worked to remove the tubing and finally…

“Have I got stories for you,” Violet rasped as soon as she was able, accepting the straw that a nurse pushed to her lips.

She drank deeply and squeezed her eyes closed as the too-cold water burned its way down her throat. It hurt like hell, but it was heaven to her formerly vegetative body.

“Take it slow, Miss Anderson—” the nurse gently coaxed as Violet drank more.

Violet spit the straw out.

“Miss Jorgensen, please. Miss Anderson has passed,” Violet croaked.

Both of her hands received squeezes and she smiled through cracked, dry lips at the gestures.

*****

Violet laid back against the pillows, smiling as Dezzy raised the head of her bed. She gingerly reached for the cup of water again and brought it to her lips, slurping noisily and still wincing as she swallowed.

“I’m just… Bowled over,” Peyton gushed as her eyes met his again.

He brought her hand to his face, happy tears shining unshed in his eyes.

“How long was I out?” Violet rasped.

“Two months and three days,” Peyton quickly replied, moving to stroke the side of her face.

“Wow,” Violet breathed.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” Dezzy said, choking up. “I don’t ever want to live like this again.”

“Awww, Dezzy,” Violet said, reaching for his hand again. “I’ll try not to.”

A knock sounded on the door jamb, followed instantly by a squeal that Violet knew could only belong to one person.

“I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it! Oh my god, Vi!”

And a projectile named Taylor Jin landed on the foot of Violet’s bed a breath later.

Except…

Violet didn’t feel her land.

All the joy leeched from Violet’s face as she stared at her legs. She tried to wiggle her toes. Tried to move her ankle. Her knee. Her hip. Nothing responded.

Taylor hugged her and planted kisses across her face, squealing her happiness. But Violet couldn’t stop staring at the feet that wouldn’t move.

“Vi?” Dezzy asked, noting the abrupt change in her expression.

Violet shook her head, fighting the sudden tears that sprang to her eyes. This wasn’t happening. This could NOT be happening…

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“I can’t… I can’t feel my legs,” Violet gasped, looking instinctively at Dezzy.

His expression fell and he collapsed forward, crushing her to him. With Tay forgotten for the moment, both Violet and Dezzy wept together. She clung to him, her heart breaking, rage at the impediment rising hot, bitter, and metallic on her already parched tongue.

It took several moments for Violet to get herself back under control. She realized as she finally pulled away that she was surrounded. Dezzy, Peyton, Tay, Manny… All of them held her while she cried.

While she raged.

“There are new treatments and surgeries, Vi,” Dezzy feverishly whispered as her gaze met his. “They didn’t want to undergo anything too risky while you were… Comatose. But now, they can see what they can do about fixing it.”

“Spinal damage is irreversible,” Violet softly replied. “It can’t regenerate. You know that. I know that.”

“No, no, no,” Peyton interrupted, “Don’t you do that. Don’t you dare give up. You’re gonna do whatever you can, whatever is physically, mentally, and medically possible. You’re gonna walk again, Vi.”

Violet reached over and palmed his cheek, staring deep into his eyes. He had so much conviction in those words, he trembled. He believed it to his core.

“Will you help me?” she whispered.

“You know better than ta ask that,” Peyton said, just as softly. “I’ll do anythin’ for you.”

“We all will,” Manny said.

“Damn straight,” Tay agreed.

Dezzy just nodded and leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

Violet took a deep, shuddering, shaky breath and averted her eyes from her currently useless legs. She looked at each of them, smiling in turn. Their returning smiles were full of love and relief, joy and pain. She was back with her real family again. Back where she belonged; even if it had cost her freedom, it was worth it. Each of them was worth fighting for.

“I missed you guys,” she said, laughing to keep the sobs at bay just a little longer. "So, so much."

*****

“Hold on, let me get that, Vi,” Dezzy said, hopping up from his spot on the sofa.

“My arms aren’t paralyzed,” Violet snarled, swatting her brother as he attempted to race her to the oven.

He backed off, holding up his hands as if she’d pulled a gun on him. She struggled to maneuver the chair and open the oven. She’d managed to make lasagna, but Dezzy’s kitchen wasn’t exactly wheelchair friendly.

Through an impressive combination of applied physics and contortionism, Violet managed to pull the tray out of the oven and wheeled over to the counter—which was too high. Dezzy took the pan from her without a word and set it on the counter.

He stared down at her, pain briefly flickering across his features before he offered her a smile.

“We’ll get through this,” he said, ruffling her hair.

“I’m not a child,” Violet snarled, swatting his hand away and wheeling herself back towards the living room.

At least Dezzy’s place had either hardwood or tile flooring throughout. No carpet. Carpet was a pain in the ass to wheel through. She sighed mournfully and positioned herself near the coffee table. It was the only table low enough for her to use comfortably.

The front door opened and Peyton walked in, his arms full of groceries. Dezzy jogged over to help him and Violet watched in sullen silence as they quickly put everything away. Peyton started some garlic bread in the oven and set to work cutting the lasagna with a metal spatula. He looked over and caught her gaze, offering her his most charming smile.

She quirked a half smile in response before turning her attention back to the TV. Dezzy was watching some streaming compilation of car crashes that was mildly, if not morbidly entertaining. A knock sounded at the door and Violet watched as Dezzy went to answer it.

“Hey darlin’,” Peyton whispered next to her ear before he kissed her cheek. “Ya hungry?”

Violet nodded in response and he kissed the top of her head before making his way back to the kitchen. Taylor, Manny, Gorski, Adams, and Mathias entered. Gorski carried a couple six packs in his meaty fists. Taylor had a paper sack full of clinking glass bottles. Manny and the others crashed on various parts of Dezzy’s enormous sectional sofas.

“Vi—we invited a prospect to come to dinner tonight,” Manny said from across the room.

“A prospect?” Violet asked, confused.

And then she remembered: Thor and Sif. This could all be temporary—she wouldn’t have to stay paralyzed. If she found the knife, if she could get back to Valhalla, if she could fledge…

“Oho yeah,” Gorski hooted from the kitchen. “Big dude. Wicked right cross. Devastating left hook. And when you go to the ground game with him… It’s like trying to fight a live wire.”

Violet coughed to hide the giggle. Live wire. If only he knew…

“Sounds impressive,” Violet said. “What’s his name?”

“He said his full name is Thurman, but everybody just calls him Thor,” Manny replied. “He’s got a little girl, too. Calls her Sif.”

“She’s kind of a shithead,” Taylor chimed, skipping into the living room and throwing herself down next to Manny.

Violet snorted but said nothing else. Shithead was being far too kind when it came to that sadistic little frost pixie. Yes, she said pixie.

“So, they’re coming here tonight?” Violet asked.

“Yep. Thor said he couldn’t wait to meet the rest of the team,” Mathias answered the question as Tay had just shoved a piece of garlic bread into Manny’s mouth.

“I take it he’s more than just a prospect?” Violet directed the question at Manny.

Manny swallowed the food he’d been chewing, swatting at Tay to keep her from giving him another piece before he said, “He’s an absolute monster heavyweight. Tossed Big G around like a rag doll.”

Violet found herself grinning at the picture Manny’s words painted for her imagination. Her other big little brother, tossing that lovable meathead around… It must have been quite the sight and she was then extremely sad she hadn’t gotten to see it.

“Alright kids, grub’s ready. Grab it and growl,” Peyton called.

He dodged the stampede into the kitchen, nimbly spinning to avoid being hit as he carried two plates into the living room. He set one down in front of Violet, then pulled up a bean bag chair and sat across from her. He smiled as he settled into the unconventional dining chair, winking flirtatiously at her.

Violet returned the smile fully that time. As they took their first bites, they looked at each other again. He chewed slowly, his eyes assessing her with a kind light in them.

“Oh, crap. I forgot our drinks,” Peyton suddenly said, jumping up and jogging back into the kitchen.

It was a small thing. But at the same time, it was everything. The ability to just hop up. To go somewhere unimpeded. To be independent.

As he set a couple cans of cold soda down, he caught her gaze. What he saw broke his heart and he rushed over to her, knelt next to her, and wrapped her tightly in his arms.

Tears spilled down Violet’s face and she couldn’t stop them. She shook with the effort but she lost that battle, too. She couldn’t stop the sob that rose up and choked her, thankful for the ability to bury her face against Peyton’s chest as he shielded her from view of the others.

Another sob tore through her, followed on its heels by still another. They came faster and faster, until her whole body was racked with them. Until she completely lost control. She clung desperately to Peyton, who returned the embrace, crushing her to him. A few moments later, as the initial, ugly onslaught of despair subsided, she felt a deep, abiding gratitude. His embrace was steady, strong, and sure. Something she knew she could depend on.

He held her together. Kept her from flying apart in a billion tiny pieces. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Slowly, the sobs were relegated to sporadic hiccoughs and her pulse slowed. The tension sluggishly melted from her upper body, until she leaned heavily against him.

She was exhausted. Trying to keep a façade of normalcy, trying to pretend like this was just another one of life’s many hurdles, like it hadn’t robbed her of her most basic freedom… It was too much.

Peyton smoothed his hand down the back of her head then, stroking her hair in long, languid movements. He planted a kiss to the crown of her head and adjusted his embrace so that he could look down and see her face.

“I’ve got ya,” he whispered.

“Yes, you do,” she sniffled.

“Whatcha need me ta do, darlin’?” Peyton softly asked. “Need a tissue? A diversion?”

She’d only left the hospital that morning. The dinner… It was supposed to be a homecoming party of sorts. And there she was, blubbering like a baby that’d missed its midmorning nap.

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

He thumbed a stray tear away from her eye, smiling tenderly. She tentatively returned the smile. He caught her chin in his hand and gently tilted her face up.

“May I?” he whispered, lowering his face slightly.

“Please,” Violet hoarsely pleaded.

He met her halfway. The almost desperate way she clung to him, pressed her lips to his—it took his breath away even as it broke his heart. Seeing her so weak, so dependent… It had all but snuffed her spark.

Peyton buried his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck, cradling the back of her skull in his palm. He wanted to fan the spark she had left, stoke the fire, bring back the fight he so loved about her. He thought he’d lost her. He wasn’t going to squander this second chance.

He abruptly pulled away in an effort to preserve modesty and avoid any awkwardness. They were far from alone, after all.

“No, don’t—” Violet began to protest.

“Darlin’, if you’re into voyeurism, I’m gonna need a little more time to warm up before I’m comfortable performin’ in front of others,” Peyton laughingly whispered, so that only she heard him.

Violet blushed furiously, having completely forgotten about the others for the moment in her desperation. She buried her face against his chest again and he happily obliged, wrapping his arms around her.

The doorbell went off and Dezzy jumped up to answer it. Violet watched as he ran to the door. She worked to mentally prepare herself for Thor and Sif’s introduction to her.

Act surprised. Act normal. Don’t fight with Sif like you always do. Don’t be too friendly with Thor.

“Come in, come in!” Dezzy said.

Violet went into a violent coughing fit trying to hide the laugh that threatened to immediately give her away when she saw Sif.

She wore bib overalls that were two sizes too big. High-top sneakers that looked too small. A short-sleeved tee shirt with a cartoon pony on it, and too big sunglasses. But that wasn’t what had put Violet in stitches.

It was the pigtails.

Pigtails.

Peyton thumped Violet’s back in alarm, afraid she was choking. Sif glared icy missiles at Violet. Thor just grinned and looked around like he was completely oblivious to the fact that Violet had almost blown their cover to smithereens.

And they hadn’t even been introduced yet.