~~Author's note: My best at trying to describe what a panic attack feels like and the psychological effects of chronic pain~~

"Oh." Roy came to startled, the harsh sound of thunder pounding outside on the LA streets. When he awoke he forgot where he was, and then ashamedly remembered. He panicked, unsure of the time he had been out. The last time he remembered being awake the sun had been far too bright. Now rain violently fell and pattered against the window.

He didn't know what time it was, either. Too much of it had been lost, well, lost track of. It was too dark from storm clouds to tell what angle the sun came through the window so Roy decided to assume it was nighttime.

Already? Or already.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows. How long had he been like this? Idiotically laying on the floor of his apartment.

Daydreaming  or dreaming.

It suck the breath out of him and he inhaled sharply. He needed to quit smoking. But at the same time he needed a cigarette.

Roy groaned and rubbed his face. His spine throbbed and was tense, probably from laying on that floor for who knows how long. There was no use taking the time to get situated in his wheelchair when it was probably near midnight. Before dragging himself onto the bed he brought the chair in reach to prevent the mistake that got him on the floor in the first place.

My fault for being an idiot.

The last time his back hurt this bad was when he first tried getting out of bed at the hospital. But it was a different sort of pain this time, like little fanged creatures were biting into the middle of his spinal cord leaving millions of tiny open holes. It came and went in monstrous waves. Roy winced each time it would hit him, clawing into the mattress.

This wasn't the feeling he was looking for when it came to sensation.

It occurred to Roy at just how lucky he'd been. If he had landed on his neck it would've killed him instantly. It was a miracle that the shattered vertebrae of his spine hadn't severed his spinal cord completely.

Of course the damage had already been done. There was no use going back to the ultimate moment of his decision.

But it was as if he didn't truly feel the impact until now.

For all Roy knew he could've been drowning right then and there. Water filled his lungs as he desperately tried to inhale and exhale, but it was futile. The tips of his fingers tingled. Each time he breathed his lungs stopped expanding and yelled at the air that tried to force itself in.

There wasn't a single drop of water besides the rain falling outside, but Roy was drowning in the ocean.

Dread.

Isolation.

"It could've killed me," Roy whispered. "I could be..."

Roy Walker, you are an absolute mess. Get up. You're an idiot. Imagine if MacKenzie gets the door unlocked and finds you hyperventilating like a girl. Barnes might not have even locked the door. You can't know for sure. You can't take that chance.

Roy massaged his temples as his lungs began to allow the air to enter and exit. He shuddered as his tunnel vision expired. He felt as though at the drop of a pin he would experience the drowning  again, that feeling of absolute dread, and imagining the prospects of it made him even more  uneasy and anxious.

His spine ached. His teeth chattered. He was hungry, but couldn't bring himself to get up to eat. His distant reflection in the armoire painted someone empty and vacant. His body quivered with the agonizing pain that coursed throughout his being.  Roy tasted blood. He realized he  had bitten clear through his bottom lip.

He needed alcohol. He needed morphine, that drug hastily given to Roy in the hospital merely once and never again. He needed to sleep. Well, sleep probably wouldn't have been a good idea. He didn't want those dreams. He wanted nothingness. He wanted to forget. He wanted...

Roy glanced in curiosity to the right on what was a red wallet on the nightstand that he didn't notice earlier. He reached for it puzzled as to whom it belonged to. Barnes hadn't been on that side of the bed.

"MacKenzie. Oh, thank god." Roy smiled slightly. She must've left it there in a hurry despite that it was rather important. Cash, a driver's license; some sort of calling card if she owned a telephone.

He breathed in relief. A calling card. Sure enough it was tucked in her wallet.

MacKenzie Lebow, Nurse

Phone 61843

52 Cauliflower Lane

Los Angeles, California

Roy should have been thrilled as he picked up the candlestick phone, mumbling into the mouthpiece a response when the cheery female operator directed, "Number please. How may I connect your call?" But instead he felt another feeling of dread. It was ridiculous. And he was silent at first when a confused "Hello?" came from the other end of the phone.

"How did you get this number?"

"It's Roy."

"Roy? How did you-"

"You left your wallet here."

"Oh. I see. I have that card for emergencies. For you know, a situation like this. No one ever-"

"MacKenzie."

"Yes?"

"MacKenzie Lebow."

"Y-yes?"

"You knew who Alice was before I even told you her name."

"I should've mentioned that in the beginning."

"Okay...were you not going to tell me?"

"That the woman is my sister? She's my half sister, Roy. We have the same father. Eventually, Roy, I would've said something. We all make mistakes."

"It would've been nice to know."

"What would you have done differently?"

"I don't know."

Silence.

"Does this change anything?"

"I don't know. I'm having a hard time sleeping. I was wondering if you could help me out with that."

"Roy, I can't really give you anything."

"I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this."

"Aren't we...aren't we going to discuss this in person?"

"Giving me pills or lying to me?"

"Wait. Wait, never once did I lie to you."

"It is implied, MacKenzie."

"If you really need something...I can get you something."

"How soon."

"I have to check on my patient in your building anyway. I'll be over in the next hour."

"Thank-" Nothingness.

Roy sighed, contemplating what to do next. He stared at his telephone and with hesitation mumbled into the mouthpiece to the same cheery operator a familiar number he hadn't thought of for nearly two years.

"You'll be connected in a minute."

Anxiety rose within Roy as a familiar voice audiated on the other line.

"Hello?" A voice far, far away. Several states over.

"Hey."

"Who's this? How did you get this number?"

Roy hesitated. "Is this Whit?"

"Ye-"

"It's your brother."

A pause on the other line. "Roy?"

"Hello."

"Roy."

"Don't-don't tell anyone I'm calling, I'm just-"

"It's funny. No one ever rings this telephone. Waste of money."

"I kept the number."

"Gee, how long has it been. How many months now?

"Thirty two, Whit. It's been near two years, I know it."

"The flickers. The moving pictures. How is them treating you?"

"Actually I got into stuntwork. It didn't really work out. It...wasn't for me."

"That's fair. We all kind of figured. Is that why you're calling?"

"Mmm. I guess that's why I'm calling."

"You didn't bother to ring earlier? You darn could've said hi."

"Things came up."

"The movies, right."

"I did it just once," Roy blurted out, catching himself. "Is, uh, is Pop home?"

"Nah. They're both at church," Whit answered.

"Church. I see."

"You know the church picnic they throw every year."

"Yeah, I do."

"It was today."

"Ah."

"So you're callin' to come home, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Roy mumbled. "I think...I think it would do me some good. To come home."

"I don't know how Ma or Pop would feel about it. You picked up and left."

"I'm sorry, Whit."

"You still sound the same," Whit scoffed.

"I changed. I'm not the same." Roy cleared his throat.

"Thirty two months and one job? You could've been more useful on the farm here."

"Trust me when I tell you I'm not useful."

"So, are you coming home?"

"I think so."

"Roy, open up." MacKenzie was there already.

"Whit, I have to go."

"So soon?"

"I, uh, have company."

"So you have a place then."

"It's not much to look at."

"Roy, open up."

"I hear someone's there," Whit said. "You can call back, you know."

"Really. You want me to-"

"Give us a heads up a few days before you get here."

"I'm not the same person I was when I left."

"You sure sound the same."

"I'm not."

Roy hang up quickly, breathing heavily. As soon as he unlocked the door MacKenzie threw a bottle of pills onto his lap. She locked the door behind her and sat on the sofa.

She folded her hands on her lap. "I'm ready to talk."