Dr. Sam Campbell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
breakablehearts) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dreamlikenewyork2022-06-09 12:44 am
breakablehearts) wrote in dreamlikenewyork2022-06-09 12:44 am
"The air around me, pressing in, overwhelming everything"
Who: Just Sam Campbell, then later with Mark Campbell
What: Rock Bottom
Where: Sydney, Australia
When: After this
The sea breeze whipped Sam’s hair into his face and he raked it away from his eyes. He paused at the gates to the cemetery and took a deep, bracing breath. It always took a lot to psych himself up to go into the place. It was gorgeous, overlooking the sea, with countless rows of graves and memorials sloping down towards the cliffs. Michelle had very few last wishes upon her death and this being her last resting place was one of them. It was a stone’s throw from the street they both grew up in and many of her best life memories — their wedding on the beach — were made overlooking the same ocean her grave now watched over forever. The beauty didn’t make it any easier to visit.
Since they all came to Sydney during the international crisis that was the pandemic, Sam had been wanting to come visit his departed wife and baby son. He always did whenever he was in Sydney to see his family but it had been harder this time. Even before he fell ill, there had been a lot going on in his head because of the direction he and Alexis were moving in their relationship. It had been a shock for everyone to learn who Justin’s real biological mother was but never in a million years would Sam have thought he’d end up falling in love with her and wanting things he thought he’d missed the boat on. Then he was unwell and it pulled the world right out from under him to hear it was cancer. No matter how much of a learned and skilled doctor and surgeon he was to know it was a highly treatable form of cancer, it was still cancer and cancer was what stole his wife and unborn son from him many years ago.
Physically, he was struggling. The prescription medication was controlling the pain and nausea but he was fatigued and felt like he wanted to sleep all the time. There was just no way in hell he could do that right now. His family needed him. With Justin and Sash’s horrific accident and Mark falling off the wagon, this was the worst time Sam could ever have fallen ill. Being a natural caretaker, he was struggling not being able to support everyone that needed it because he was feeling so rough himself. It also meant he didn’t have a lot of time or strength to really soul-search and confront everything he was feeling inside. It was easier to push it aside and assure himself he would figure it out later. That was stupid, though. Life, hearts, and minds didn’t work like that.
Coming to the last row of graves, Sam shifted the bouquet of lilac peonies and roses — Michelle's favourite colour and favourite flowers — to nurse them in the crook of his arm and approached the one of the headstone of two hearts. One was large with Michelle’s memorial and the second smaller, nestled protectively in front of the larger with Julian’s name. There was no date or birth or death on that one. Julian was still in the womb when Michelle lost her battle with breast cancer and succumbed to an infection unexpectedly. She had chosen to hold off chemotherapy until the baby was born but tragically, Sam lost them both when Michelle was nearing seven months along. Julian might not have been born but he was very much loved as their baby son as if he had been.
He laid the bouquet on the grave and tenderly rested his hand on top of the large heart but when his legs felt weary, he sat down one the corner of the foot of the grave to rest a bit. The sea air sweeping over his face and back of neck was sobering but made him feel chilled. He was still battling low grade fevers on and off. More often than not, he felt chilled like he couldn’t get warm no matter what he did. Then he took a small ornament of an angel nursing a baby and set it at the base of the headstone. It was something he bought quite some time ago in New York when it touched him deeply when Jamie had spotted it in a gift shop and pointed it out to him, saying, ‘Look, Uncle Sam! It’s Aunty Michelle and Louis’. When the sea air whipped his hair into his face, he pushed it out of his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out in a rush as he finally gave himself permission to be present in this really difficult moment.
“I thought I had alot I wanted to say today. Maybe coming here to ask if you could pull a few strings for me but if that’s at all possible, I don’t want you to do it for me. I can take care of myself. No, this isn’t somewhere I ever thought I’d be or a barrel I ever thought I’d find myself staring down but I need a huge favour, my love,” Sam murmured, caressing his palm over the surface of the gravetop. “I need you to watch over Sash and Justin. And if you’re over there with Andi or at least know who she is, try to find her and give her a hand with the same. If there’s a way you’re watching over all of us, I know you’ve seen how amazing both those kids are. This world as it is now, it needs kids like them to fight for others. The only problem is… I don’t know if they’re strong enough to fight for themselves this time. Life has this way of sucker-punching even the strongest people off their foundations and this time, I think the universe has done that to them. They might not get back up again and… and we need them to be okay. Which means, we need Sparky to be okay too. Justin can’t survive without him. How the fuck did life become such a horribly shaky house of cards?”
He began tending the base of the grave, picking up some of the stray weeds and wildflowers but there wasn’t a lot that needed removing. He knew Michelle’s family visited at least once a week to do the caretaking, making sure she was never forgotten. Sam always visited when he was in Sydney. He always would, no matter what direction his life turned in next. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with any of this. Some things feel like they make so much sense but I’m terrified it’s all going to slip away. I’m terrified I’m going to be too sick to take care of my family. Mostly Sparky. I’ve always been there for him and now is one of those times he needs me the most again and all I can think of is how ill chemo made you. And what happened when you stopped it for Louis. I don’t want my family to go through that.” He was tearing up but he swallowed it back and cleared his throat. “There’s one thing I really want to do but… the timing’s all wrong. I think. I don’t know. I just don’t know much of anything anymore.”
“I wonder what life would’ve been like if you beat this, Chelle,” he admitted, leaning his elbow on his knee so he could prop his tired head up with his fist resting against his lips. More moments passed as he watched the ocean in the distance over the cliff and concentrated on the seabreeze on his face. “How much would it have prevented or would all the trauma still have happened? Would Jus have found us? Would we have had him much sooner than we did and stopped all that awful fucking terror inflicted on him? He and Louis would’ve been so close in age and I like to think about them being close, like brothers. And hell, is that a whole other thing…”
He looked at the headstones, remembering how fresh it all felt when there was nothing but a mound of soil piled with flowers before the headstones had been installed. “I knew the subject of children would come up when they told me I needed chemo. It brought everything back and it was more painful than I could’ve anticipated. We lost you and Louis because you paused chemo to give him the best chance on life. It’s not the same, I know. Not really. We’re talking freezing sperm here and I know to everyone, that just seems like I have to wank into a cup and it’s a done deal. But what that actually means in the long run is so much more and Justin told us he wasn’t there yet. Who can blame the poor kid? Trying to wrap his head around the fact his real mum wasn’t the monster who harmed him in the most horrific of ways, then trying to fathom a potential sibling whose dad would be his dad’s identical twin? This poor kid needs some simplicity in his life. He needs to learn to breathe again. He doesn’t need more complicated emotional shit like this heaped on him. Especially not now… not when Sash is fighting for his life and Justin’s injuries mean his career might be over.”
“But Sparky’s right. I’ve never really stopped wanting to be a dad myself, deep down inside where I buried all this. Convinced myself I was okay just being an uncle and my time for all that had passed. When it was suddenly a possible option on the table again, I didn’t know how to deal with that. Justin not dealing with it — not being ready to — gave me an excuse to bury my head in the sand about it too. Which I know isn’t fucking fair to Alexis. Not when she bared her soul to me and gave me that gift of even just considering having a baby with me when she was so sure herself it would be too painful to go through after all she survived with Jus. I don’t want either of them to be in pain because of me. But that want to be a father is really starting to burn inside me and I’m scared I can’t fight it off.”
“I think I need to talk to Jus. Even just to see where he’s at now. At the very least, I know whatever he says will be raw and honest. How do I shield him from his mind thinking there’s no room for him or we’re trying to replace him with a better model? No child should ever feel that depth disconnection from belonging. To shield him, I have to put my want to be a father to bed and… I don’t know… grieve for it? How do I do that when I feel like it’s been there lingering in my heart for nearly two decades already? Justin needs to be shown he’s enough. He’s so very much enough… but he’ll never be mine. I don’t think there can ever be a child who’s mine. We had that and it wasn’t meant to be.” His mind went back to Justin lying in the hospital bed. That wasn’t anything new for them but this time, it was like he’d lost his ability to fight. It wasn’t anything obvious or specific Sam saw in him but there was just something behind his nephew’s words and his eyes that told Sam they had to figure out how the hell to keep fighting for him. That was what family was about but Sam was terrified everyone in his family were battle-weary. You could only fight so much before the fatigue won.
“Who can blame the poor kid for not knowing how the fuck to handle this? I know it’s not because he doesn’t want us happy. I’m so bloody scared, Chelle. I think Alexis might be the one and I love her more than I know how to say. She’s so special and she’s everything I never thought I’d have a chance at again. Not after you. You’d love her, sweetheart. She took to being Justin’s mother so well, even if she was terrified she’d mess it up or not do a good job. Being his mum was so innately natural to her and that’s why I fell in love with her. It was one of the most beautiful things in the world to see. She was never not his mum because she didn’t have him. I just don’t understand why everything has had to go to shit when things are supposed to finally be getting better. The accident, Mark’s depression and drinking, the… the fucking cancer. Is a bit of bloody peace too much to ask? Why the hell can’t any of us just have a chance to be happy? How am I supposed to take care of any of them if I’m too sick or… or I don’t make it and I’m not here? God-fucking-damnit!”
And that’s when the floodgates opened and he broke down sobbing, exactly what he had been trying to avoid. It was hard to know if it was from anger, fear, or just plain grief and heartache. Likely a mix of all and other emotions that were more difficult to identify. The sobs were so deep, they were painful and he couldn’t pull himself back once he started. This wasn’t just about what he had listed, either. It was driving deep into past grief too, the life he lost when Michelle and Louis died, the suffering his family went through when they thought James was murdered, the terror Sam had felt when Mark had his breakdown and nearly killed himself with terrible binge-drinking, being back up on that roof with Justin trying to talk him off the ledge, the look on Mark’s face when he realised the son he never knew was mentally ill and suicidal… it seemed to be a never ending list of pain that wanted to replay to him now while he was at his most vulnerable. He had tried to hold this off, to keep it together to take care of his family but here he was free to let it pour out of him and once it started, he didn’t want to rein it in anymore. Maybe this was exactly what he needed.
Sam sat there crying long enough to begin feeling like the hard marble was giving him a bruised arse and there was a faint rumble of thunder threatening somewhere in the distance. He was feeling sick again and knew if he didn’t get back home now, he’d struggle. “Fuck…” he mumbled to himself, lifting his head to squint against the light now his eyes were swollen and stinging. While he worked to try to collect himself after the emotional deluge, he wiped the tears away with the back of his hand, taking his phone out to look at the lockscreen photo of Alexis leaning over Justin from behind where he was sitting, kissing his cheek while Justin was in the midst of laughing, hugging her arm to his chest. “I think it’s time to close the book on one chapter so we can open another without causing anyone pain. There’s been too much pain.”
Taking a deep breath, he pocketed his phone again and stood up, catching himself before he stumbled when his legs felt shaky. He had to wait for the inevitable tiny wave of wooziness and nausea to pass. Then he kissed his fingers and pressed them to the top of both headstones, his touch lingering on the cold marble. Goosebumps prickled his skin like they always did when he visited here. But he knew Michelle and Louis would both always be with him, not just here at their resting place. “Rest soundly, darlings. I’ll be back soon.”
— * — * —
Sam was beginning to wonder if there was some karmic force on the go in his life. Besides the shit hitting multiple fans on multiple levels, every time he had to go outside, it seemed to piss down rain. This time, it was that sort of sideways downpour that rendered an umbrella useless which had set in quickly with some thunder rumbles in the distance when he was leaving the cemetery.
A good portion of his bottom half was drenched by the time he ran inside from the car, which was a pain in the arse alone when he could barely even take a shower without folding from fatigue and he hadn’t even started his treatment yet. His doctor wasn’t going to let him push it much further, despite his best efforts to delay it. It wasn’t his intention to deliberately be a difficult patient. He was a highly qualified doctor and surgeon himself, he knew all the ins and outs in finite detail. But his family were going through hell and he wanted to be there for them. Preferably without everyone reminding him he should be resting because he had cancer every time he did try to help but they were all doing their best to wing this shitshow, so he couldn’t blame them for trying to take care of him in return. Then there was the issue of his own soul-searching weighing on him.
As soon as he got in the front door, he tossed the umbrella into the bucket by the door and kicked his shoes off so he didn’t traipse mud through the house. Their mum had trained them all with that well enough over the years. At the bottom of the stairs, he stopped, holding himself up on the bannister as he contemplated how much energy — that he didn’t have — it would need to get up them. But his bed was up there and he needed to lie down before he fell down and get out of the drenched clothes before he shivered his arse off.
There didn’t seem to be anyone else home and because it was so overcast outside, he had to turn some lights on before he dragged himself upstairs. Unbuttoning his shirt, he turned up the hall to head to his childhood bedroom which had been upgraded with adult decor now because he and his brothers still stayed with their folks when they visited Australia. He passed the upstairs indoor entertainment area and a faint light caught his attention because no other lights were on upstairs. It was the corner light that halo’ed Justin’s grand piano their parents bought for their home once they knew their grandson was musically gifted and could play. He went in to turn it off, thinking someone must’ve just forgotten to turn it off in the scramble to try to get the best support network around Justin and Sasha at the hospital they could.
When he was fully into the room, he saw why the light was on. “Mark!” Sam shot over to where his twin was sprawled face-down on the rug by one of the chaise lounges which had vomit splashed over the side of. He rolled Mark onto his side into the recovery position, bracing him in that position with his knee so he could press his fingers to Mark’s neck to check for a pulse and lean over him to hear if he was breathing. Thankfully, both were still functioning.
Once Sam turned him, though, he noticed a streak of blood over his hand and forearm. Mark was bleeding from somewhere. Making sure Mark stayed on his side, he tried to give him the once-over the best he could to locate the source of the bleeding and found Mark must’ve banged his head on something when he fell. There was a deep but relatively small cut to the top of his head that would definitely need sutures but the blood was already starting to coagulate, so he had to have been lying here a little while. Sam felt ill at the thought but he was trying not to lose his shit and panic. Mark coughed and started to throw up again even though he was out cold, so Sam held his head, making sure he didn’t choke. Mark was still wearing the same crumpled clothing he had been in at the hospital the day before, now soiled with smears of vomit and sweat patches.
Nearby, there was a large overturned near-empty bottle of Dewars Scotch. Sam picked it up to see there was all of a shot or two left in the bottom and his shoulders slumped with a resolute sigh. “Sparky…” he mumbled, crushing exhaustion engulfing him all over again.
— * — * —
It was getting dark outside again by the time Mark woke with any lucidity. It had been a whole night and day, now going into the following evening that he had been wiped out from his latest bender, followed by a severe hangover period and Sam was left wondering how any of this couldn’t be a deterrent for an alcoholic. Of course, he knew it wasn’t that simple. His twin and nephew both battled addiction, and he was a doctor. If only it was as simple as a bad binge to turn you off the bottle for good.
This time, Mark seemed to have narrowly dodged alcohol poisoning so Sam stuck close to him through the whole thing and it had been terrible. His parents had come home in the middle of it and Sam had to give them the cold hard truth that Mark was back to the drawing board with his recovery and even if it was awful timing, they’d all need to rally together as a family to get through this rough emotional patch. He sent Gen and Alexis texts asking if they could tag team with his mum and dad at the hospital with the lads while he took the reins with getting Mark on the safe side of this bender.
For the last few hours, he had been sitting in the armchair by the window reading a book and listening to the steady rain falling outside, wrapped in an old blanket his mum always gave him when he was sick as a kid. He and Mark had matching ones, one red (Sam’s) and one blue. Mark had given his to Justin the first time he brought him to Sydney and he hadn’t been well. Times like this, a bit of childhood comfort was welcome. When Mark began to wake, he closed the book over in it lap and set it aside and once Mark spotted him and they made eye contact (even if Mark’s eyes were puffy and open with barely more than a squint), Sam sat forward, pressing his lips together with a deep exhale through his nose. “It’s time, Sparky.”
Mark’s head felt like it had been up close and personal with a brick wall. He was lying on his side with pillows wedged behind his back and when he went to rub his face, found there was an IV line in the back of his hand. But he wasn’t in hospital. He was in his room at his parents’ place and he felt fucking horrible. He wasn’t sure he could even speak without spewing but he heard what Sam said and put his hand over his face while the shame and guilt broke through the hangover haze and hit him like a tonne of bricks. It wasn’t like you didn’t know why you did this. You did. All too much and all too harsh. It got too much and too loud, and you were too weak to resist reaching for the bottle again. He knew his twin was right. That didn’t make it any easier to face. It probably made it worse.
Sam watched Mark, knowing he was feeling some of his pain and it killing him that he couldn’t take it away for him. But these demons were too much of a monster for any of them to conquer alone, especially Mark. “I love you more than anything, Sparky, but I can’t live through hell with you again. Not right now. I have my own battle I’m trying to figure out how to fight and I don’t think I have the strength for both of us this time. If you don’t stop, this will kill you. And I know this is going to destroy you to hear but I’ll be the one who has to tell your son, your daughter, your wife that you’re dead. I need you to work with me. They need you to.” He paused momentarily to gather his thoughts. As much as he wanted to go easy on Mark, he also knew the window of opportunity could slam shut if Mark got too upset or distressed. “What triggered this episode?”
“I— I don’t—” Mark started to cry and grabbed the edge of the mattress to try to pull himself up when he reflexively responded to the urge to run away and not have to face all this head-on. Not yet. But he knew he had to. There was no running from an inner demon that would, as Sam so harshly reminded him, kill him.
“No, no… don’t try to move.” Sam got up and went to sit on the side of the bed next to his brother, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. He grabbed the box of tissues from the bedside table and put them where Mark could easily access them. “You hit your head when you passed out and fell. If you try to move too much too soon, you’re going to black out or start vomiting again and I’ve barely started to rehydrate you. You did a number on yourself. I really need you to just lie there and rest because I need a fucking rest too. But we’re still going to talk.”
“Sammy—”
Putting his hand on Mark’s arm, Sam shook his head. “I need you to listen to me first. It’s important. Things I think you’ve forgotten and need to hear again. Every single time we’ve nearly lost Justin, you have said you would give your lift to save him. You’ve also said you would rather die than hurt your kids. And I know you meant every word, every single time you’ve said it. But I don’t think you’ve ever truly confronted that destroying yourself, harming yourself, is one thing that will hurt them the most. Sparky, I’ve already buried a wife and a son. I can’t bury my twin too. No, I’m not overexaggerating here. You have no idea what the last twenty-four hours have been like. You could’ve ended up in the ICU room nextdoor to your kid. How do you think he would cope with that? Dad fighting for his life on one side of him and his fiancé on the other, no one able to promise him either if you would wake up. This wasn’t just a few too many. I’m not unconvinced it wasn’t a suicide attempt.” He gave Mark a few moments to let that sink in, before, “Was it? That comment the other day about being glad both your kids have more than two parents.”
Mark was silent, hand over his face with his finger and thumb squeezing his temples. The pain in his head went beyond a headache and the pain in every inch of his soul went beyond any simple answer. He couldn’t look at Sam. He felt like he couldn’t look at anyone again. Justin never spoke much about how he felt waking up after a suicide attempt to realise he was still here and that’s all Mark could think about. Sam’s words were so heavy and hurt so much that he could barely keep listening but he knew he had to. His twin wasn’t bullying him or trying to hurt him. He was the only one who knew everything and would only ever be firm and direct if it was in the interest of protecting Mark and his wellbeing. Still, it was agony. Everything was agony. “I’m gonna be sick.”
Sam grabbed the blue laundry bucket that had been getting a hell of a workout since Sam got their dad to help carry Mark to bed while he was still out cold. He had no choice but to tell their parents what had happened, and then had to deliver the bad news to Gen and Alexis to explain why neither he nor Mark could be at the hospital. Gen was devastated and wanted to be there but she knew they had to all share the job of being at the hospital with the boys in a vain attempt to not elude to Justin that there was anything the matter. He would realise soon enough and start asking questions. Sam hoped by then he and Mark would be able to go see him. Mark had an extremely difficult conversation to have with his son and Sam also had something important he needed to talk to his nephew about. But it was a juggling act of timing so more shit didn’t keep hitting more fans.
He waited the wave of sickness out and didn’t say anything, rubbing Mark’s back. There was nothing worse than having to deal with something emotional and traumatic when you were feeling physically atrocious but none of this could wait. Mark’s silence answered a lot of questions for Sam and he felt sick inside too thinking about it. Once Mark was done, he helped him have some water to rinse his mouth and wiped his face and nape of his neck with a damp cloth. “I’m here, okay. You’re not alone. I’m never going to let you be alone.”
“I don’t want Justin to know, Sammy. He can’t know.” Mark laid back down, rubbing his face. He wanted to go back to sleep but now he had to confront this, he, too, knew Justin would ask questions if he was absent from the hospital too long and no one was telling him why. “What have you told him?”
“Nothing. He’s mostly been sleeping. Doesn’t talk a lot when he’s awake. Hasn’t asked where anyone is. We both know that won’t last. He’s just going through a low of his own. If he can’t talk to Sash, he’d rather talk to no one. I’m not going to tell him anything, okay? But I won’t piss in your pocket and tell you it’s raining by letting you think I believe it’s a good idea to not tell him anything. I think you need to talk to him. As soon as you can be upright without passing out or spewing, I’m taking you to the hospital so you can talk to him. It doesn’t matter what you say, Sparky, but you owe it to him. I’m not going to let you do the one thing he’s begged you not to. Keep things from him. Your kids are your reason to live. You need him as much as he needs you.” Sam stood to take the bucket to the bathroom but as soon as he was on his feet, he was hit by a wave of dizziness and had to sit straight back down, putting the bucket back on the floor before he dropped it.
Mark grabbed Sam’s arm, even if he would’ve been useless if Sam dropped to the floor because he was too weak to catch him. “Sammy! Fuck. You should be—”
“What?!” Sam snapped, pulling his arm away. “Resting? How the fuck can I rest when my twin is writing himself with pills and booze to the point of being paralytic, whether he meant to or not, and bashing his head so hard on the coffee table, he’s concussed?! I can’t fucking rest, I had to nurse you through this to make sure you didn’t fucking die and I had to do what I could to keep from getting you rushed to hospital so your kid has the best fighting chance of recovery himself. So, no. I can’t fucking rest. I had to wait this out because if you had a cardiac arrest and died, I would’ve been the one that had to tell him his dad was dead. How the fuck am I supposed to rest while I’m waiting out whether I’ll need to face that or not and trying to rehearse in my head over and over what I should say? Just for once, spare me the patronizing bullshit. You haven’t had the capacity to care how any of this is impacting on me.”
Mark recoiled for the mere reason Sam hardly ever snapped or lost his temper. But he knew this wasn’t a temper, it was frustration and exhaustion. The truth felt like a slap in the face — a sobering one Mark needed — and he couldn’t process it at first. Not until a few shameful moments passed and thick, heavy guilt settled like a brick in his gut. He pulled himself up on the pillows so he could be even just a bit more propped up than feeling incapacitated in the recovery position. “Your treatment…”
Sam just shook his head and closed his eyes, pressing the tips of his fingers into the corners of his eyes. “What about it? I can’t start my treatment until you’re safely through detox. You need to get safely through detox before you can start meds to combat your cravings.”
“I’ll go to rehab,” Mark insisted.
“Weeks on end away from Justin while Sash is still on life support? Don’t be a fucking idiot.” Sam wet his lips and sighed. His energy to fight was depleted beyond zero. “No, seriously. Don’t. The sooner you start to get your shit together, the sooner I can start treatment. Before we go and see Justin, I want you to give me a name of a psych here you trust and I’ll make you an urgent appointment. You need your meds assessed and you need to talk to someone.”
Mark’s hands were trembling and he put both of them up to his mouth, trying to take some deep breaths but he was suddenly overcome with an icy wave of dread that felt like it was trying to drown him. “I dunno if I can do it. I—” The words were swallowed up when he broke down sobbing again.
Sam tucked his hand behind Mark’s head and leaned over to kiss his forehead. “That’s why I’m doing it with you. We’ll get through it, Sparky. I just need you to do one thing right now. Try to remember what you tell your son when he’s at rock bottom. Please try,” he begged in a whisper.
LOG, COMPLETE
What: Rock Bottom
Where: Sydney, Australia
When: After this
The sea breeze whipped Sam’s hair into his face and he raked it away from his eyes. He paused at the gates to the cemetery and took a deep, bracing breath. It always took a lot to psych himself up to go into the place. It was gorgeous, overlooking the sea, with countless rows of graves and memorials sloping down towards the cliffs. Michelle had very few last wishes upon her death and this being her last resting place was one of them. It was a stone’s throw from the street they both grew up in and many of her best life memories — their wedding on the beach — were made overlooking the same ocean her grave now watched over forever. The beauty didn’t make it any easier to visit.
Since they all came to Sydney during the international crisis that was the pandemic, Sam had been wanting to come visit his departed wife and baby son. He always did whenever he was in Sydney to see his family but it had been harder this time. Even before he fell ill, there had been a lot going on in his head because of the direction he and Alexis were moving in their relationship. It had been a shock for everyone to learn who Justin’s real biological mother was but never in a million years would Sam have thought he’d end up falling in love with her and wanting things he thought he’d missed the boat on. Then he was unwell and it pulled the world right out from under him to hear it was cancer. No matter how much of a learned and skilled doctor and surgeon he was to know it was a highly treatable form of cancer, it was still cancer and cancer was what stole his wife and unborn son from him many years ago.
Physically, he was struggling. The prescription medication was controlling the pain and nausea but he was fatigued and felt like he wanted to sleep all the time. There was just no way in hell he could do that right now. His family needed him. With Justin and Sash’s horrific accident and Mark falling off the wagon, this was the worst time Sam could ever have fallen ill. Being a natural caretaker, he was struggling not being able to support everyone that needed it because he was feeling so rough himself. It also meant he didn’t have a lot of time or strength to really soul-search and confront everything he was feeling inside. It was easier to push it aside and assure himself he would figure it out later. That was stupid, though. Life, hearts, and minds didn’t work like that.
Coming to the last row of graves, Sam shifted the bouquet of lilac peonies and roses — Michelle's favourite colour and favourite flowers — to nurse them in the crook of his arm and approached the one of the headstone of two hearts. One was large with Michelle’s memorial and the second smaller, nestled protectively in front of the larger with Julian’s name. There was no date or birth or death on that one. Julian was still in the womb when Michelle lost her battle with breast cancer and succumbed to an infection unexpectedly. She had chosen to hold off chemotherapy until the baby was born but tragically, Sam lost them both when Michelle was nearing seven months along. Julian might not have been born but he was very much loved as their baby son as if he had been.
He laid the bouquet on the grave and tenderly rested his hand on top of the large heart but when his legs felt weary, he sat down one the corner of the foot of the grave to rest a bit. The sea air sweeping over his face and back of neck was sobering but made him feel chilled. He was still battling low grade fevers on and off. More often than not, he felt chilled like he couldn’t get warm no matter what he did. Then he took a small ornament of an angel nursing a baby and set it at the base of the headstone. It was something he bought quite some time ago in New York when it touched him deeply when Jamie had spotted it in a gift shop and pointed it out to him, saying, ‘Look, Uncle Sam! It’s Aunty Michelle and Louis’. When the sea air whipped his hair into his face, he pushed it out of his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out in a rush as he finally gave himself permission to be present in this really difficult moment.
“I thought I had alot I wanted to say today. Maybe coming here to ask if you could pull a few strings for me but if that’s at all possible, I don’t want you to do it for me. I can take care of myself. No, this isn’t somewhere I ever thought I’d be or a barrel I ever thought I’d find myself staring down but I need a huge favour, my love,” Sam murmured, caressing his palm over the surface of the gravetop. “I need you to watch over Sash and Justin. And if you’re over there with Andi or at least know who she is, try to find her and give her a hand with the same. If there’s a way you’re watching over all of us, I know you’ve seen how amazing both those kids are. This world as it is now, it needs kids like them to fight for others. The only problem is… I don’t know if they’re strong enough to fight for themselves this time. Life has this way of sucker-punching even the strongest people off their foundations and this time, I think the universe has done that to them. They might not get back up again and… and we need them to be okay. Which means, we need Sparky to be okay too. Justin can’t survive without him. How the fuck did life become such a horribly shaky house of cards?”
He began tending the base of the grave, picking up some of the stray weeds and wildflowers but there wasn’t a lot that needed removing. He knew Michelle’s family visited at least once a week to do the caretaking, making sure she was never forgotten. Sam always visited when he was in Sydney. He always would, no matter what direction his life turned in next. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with any of this. Some things feel like they make so much sense but I’m terrified it’s all going to slip away. I’m terrified I’m going to be too sick to take care of my family. Mostly Sparky. I’ve always been there for him and now is one of those times he needs me the most again and all I can think of is how ill chemo made you. And what happened when you stopped it for Louis. I don’t want my family to go through that.” He was tearing up but he swallowed it back and cleared his throat. “There’s one thing I really want to do but… the timing’s all wrong. I think. I don’t know. I just don’t know much of anything anymore.”
“I wonder what life would’ve been like if you beat this, Chelle,” he admitted, leaning his elbow on his knee so he could prop his tired head up with his fist resting against his lips. More moments passed as he watched the ocean in the distance over the cliff and concentrated on the seabreeze on his face. “How much would it have prevented or would all the trauma still have happened? Would Jus have found us? Would we have had him much sooner than we did and stopped all that awful fucking terror inflicted on him? He and Louis would’ve been so close in age and I like to think about them being close, like brothers. And hell, is that a whole other thing…”
He looked at the headstones, remembering how fresh it all felt when there was nothing but a mound of soil piled with flowers before the headstones had been installed. “I knew the subject of children would come up when they told me I needed chemo. It brought everything back and it was more painful than I could’ve anticipated. We lost you and Louis because you paused chemo to give him the best chance on life. It’s not the same, I know. Not really. We’re talking freezing sperm here and I know to everyone, that just seems like I have to wank into a cup and it’s a done deal. But what that actually means in the long run is so much more and Justin told us he wasn’t there yet. Who can blame the poor kid? Trying to wrap his head around the fact his real mum wasn’t the monster who harmed him in the most horrific of ways, then trying to fathom a potential sibling whose dad would be his dad’s identical twin? This poor kid needs some simplicity in his life. He needs to learn to breathe again. He doesn’t need more complicated emotional shit like this heaped on him. Especially not now… not when Sash is fighting for his life and Justin’s injuries mean his career might be over.”
“But Sparky’s right. I’ve never really stopped wanting to be a dad myself, deep down inside where I buried all this. Convinced myself I was okay just being an uncle and my time for all that had passed. When it was suddenly a possible option on the table again, I didn’t know how to deal with that. Justin not dealing with it — not being ready to — gave me an excuse to bury my head in the sand about it too. Which I know isn’t fucking fair to Alexis. Not when she bared her soul to me and gave me that gift of even just considering having a baby with me when she was so sure herself it would be too painful to go through after all she survived with Jus. I don’t want either of them to be in pain because of me. But that want to be a father is really starting to burn inside me and I’m scared I can’t fight it off.”
“I think I need to talk to Jus. Even just to see where he’s at now. At the very least, I know whatever he says will be raw and honest. How do I shield him from his mind thinking there’s no room for him or we’re trying to replace him with a better model? No child should ever feel that depth disconnection from belonging. To shield him, I have to put my want to be a father to bed and… I don’t know… grieve for it? How do I do that when I feel like it’s been there lingering in my heart for nearly two decades already? Justin needs to be shown he’s enough. He’s so very much enough… but he’ll never be mine. I don’t think there can ever be a child who’s mine. We had that and it wasn’t meant to be.” His mind went back to Justin lying in the hospital bed. That wasn’t anything new for them but this time, it was like he’d lost his ability to fight. It wasn’t anything obvious or specific Sam saw in him but there was just something behind his nephew’s words and his eyes that told Sam they had to figure out how the hell to keep fighting for him. That was what family was about but Sam was terrified everyone in his family were battle-weary. You could only fight so much before the fatigue won.
“Who can blame the poor kid for not knowing how the fuck to handle this? I know it’s not because he doesn’t want us happy. I’m so bloody scared, Chelle. I think Alexis might be the one and I love her more than I know how to say. She’s so special and she’s everything I never thought I’d have a chance at again. Not after you. You’d love her, sweetheart. She took to being Justin’s mother so well, even if she was terrified she’d mess it up or not do a good job. Being his mum was so innately natural to her and that’s why I fell in love with her. It was one of the most beautiful things in the world to see. She was never not his mum because she didn’t have him. I just don’t understand why everything has had to go to shit when things are supposed to finally be getting better. The accident, Mark’s depression and drinking, the… the fucking cancer. Is a bit of bloody peace too much to ask? Why the hell can’t any of us just have a chance to be happy? How am I supposed to take care of any of them if I’m too sick or… or I don’t make it and I’m not here? God-fucking-damnit!”
And that’s when the floodgates opened and he broke down sobbing, exactly what he had been trying to avoid. It was hard to know if it was from anger, fear, or just plain grief and heartache. Likely a mix of all and other emotions that were more difficult to identify. The sobs were so deep, they were painful and he couldn’t pull himself back once he started. This wasn’t just about what he had listed, either. It was driving deep into past grief too, the life he lost when Michelle and Louis died, the suffering his family went through when they thought James was murdered, the terror Sam had felt when Mark had his breakdown and nearly killed himself with terrible binge-drinking, being back up on that roof with Justin trying to talk him off the ledge, the look on Mark’s face when he realised the son he never knew was mentally ill and suicidal… it seemed to be a never ending list of pain that wanted to replay to him now while he was at his most vulnerable. He had tried to hold this off, to keep it together to take care of his family but here he was free to let it pour out of him and once it started, he didn’t want to rein it in anymore. Maybe this was exactly what he needed.
Sam sat there crying long enough to begin feeling like the hard marble was giving him a bruised arse and there was a faint rumble of thunder threatening somewhere in the distance. He was feeling sick again and knew if he didn’t get back home now, he’d struggle. “Fuck…” he mumbled to himself, lifting his head to squint against the light now his eyes were swollen and stinging. While he worked to try to collect himself after the emotional deluge, he wiped the tears away with the back of his hand, taking his phone out to look at the lockscreen photo of Alexis leaning over Justin from behind where he was sitting, kissing his cheek while Justin was in the midst of laughing, hugging her arm to his chest. “I think it’s time to close the book on one chapter so we can open another without causing anyone pain. There’s been too much pain.”
Taking a deep breath, he pocketed his phone again and stood up, catching himself before he stumbled when his legs felt shaky. He had to wait for the inevitable tiny wave of wooziness and nausea to pass. Then he kissed his fingers and pressed them to the top of both headstones, his touch lingering on the cold marble. Goosebumps prickled his skin like they always did when he visited here. But he knew Michelle and Louis would both always be with him, not just here at their resting place. “Rest soundly, darlings. I’ll be back soon.”
Sam was beginning to wonder if there was some karmic force on the go in his life. Besides the shit hitting multiple fans on multiple levels, every time he had to go outside, it seemed to piss down rain. This time, it was that sort of sideways downpour that rendered an umbrella useless which had set in quickly with some thunder rumbles in the distance when he was leaving the cemetery.
A good portion of his bottom half was drenched by the time he ran inside from the car, which was a pain in the arse alone when he could barely even take a shower without folding from fatigue and he hadn’t even started his treatment yet. His doctor wasn’t going to let him push it much further, despite his best efforts to delay it. It wasn’t his intention to deliberately be a difficult patient. He was a highly qualified doctor and surgeon himself, he knew all the ins and outs in finite detail. But his family were going through hell and he wanted to be there for them. Preferably without everyone reminding him he should be resting because he had cancer every time he did try to help but they were all doing their best to wing this shitshow, so he couldn’t blame them for trying to take care of him in return. Then there was the issue of his own soul-searching weighing on him.
As soon as he got in the front door, he tossed the umbrella into the bucket by the door and kicked his shoes off so he didn’t traipse mud through the house. Their mum had trained them all with that well enough over the years. At the bottom of the stairs, he stopped, holding himself up on the bannister as he contemplated how much energy — that he didn’t have — it would need to get up them. But his bed was up there and he needed to lie down before he fell down and get out of the drenched clothes before he shivered his arse off.
There didn’t seem to be anyone else home and because it was so overcast outside, he had to turn some lights on before he dragged himself upstairs. Unbuttoning his shirt, he turned up the hall to head to his childhood bedroom which had been upgraded with adult decor now because he and his brothers still stayed with their folks when they visited Australia. He passed the upstairs indoor entertainment area and a faint light caught his attention because no other lights were on upstairs. It was the corner light that halo’ed Justin’s grand piano their parents bought for their home once they knew their grandson was musically gifted and could play. He went in to turn it off, thinking someone must’ve just forgotten to turn it off in the scramble to try to get the best support network around Justin and Sasha at the hospital they could.
When he was fully into the room, he saw why the light was on. “Mark!” Sam shot over to where his twin was sprawled face-down on the rug by one of the chaise lounges which had vomit splashed over the side of. He rolled Mark onto his side into the recovery position, bracing him in that position with his knee so he could press his fingers to Mark’s neck to check for a pulse and lean over him to hear if he was breathing. Thankfully, both were still functioning.
Once Sam turned him, though, he noticed a streak of blood over his hand and forearm. Mark was bleeding from somewhere. Making sure Mark stayed on his side, he tried to give him the once-over the best he could to locate the source of the bleeding and found Mark must’ve banged his head on something when he fell. There was a deep but relatively small cut to the top of his head that would definitely need sutures but the blood was already starting to coagulate, so he had to have been lying here a little while. Sam felt ill at the thought but he was trying not to lose his shit and panic. Mark coughed and started to throw up again even though he was out cold, so Sam held his head, making sure he didn’t choke. Mark was still wearing the same crumpled clothing he had been in at the hospital the day before, now soiled with smears of vomit and sweat patches.
Nearby, there was a large overturned near-empty bottle of Dewars Scotch. Sam picked it up to see there was all of a shot or two left in the bottom and his shoulders slumped with a resolute sigh. “Sparky…” he mumbled, crushing exhaustion engulfing him all over again.
It was getting dark outside again by the time Mark woke with any lucidity. It had been a whole night and day, now going into the following evening that he had been wiped out from his latest bender, followed by a severe hangover period and Sam was left wondering how any of this couldn’t be a deterrent for an alcoholic. Of course, he knew it wasn’t that simple. His twin and nephew both battled addiction, and he was a doctor. If only it was as simple as a bad binge to turn you off the bottle for good.
This time, Mark seemed to have narrowly dodged alcohol poisoning so Sam stuck close to him through the whole thing and it had been terrible. His parents had come home in the middle of it and Sam had to give them the cold hard truth that Mark was back to the drawing board with his recovery and even if it was awful timing, they’d all need to rally together as a family to get through this rough emotional patch. He sent Gen and Alexis texts asking if they could tag team with his mum and dad at the hospital with the lads while he took the reins with getting Mark on the safe side of this bender.
For the last few hours, he had been sitting in the armchair by the window reading a book and listening to the steady rain falling outside, wrapped in an old blanket his mum always gave him when he was sick as a kid. He and Mark had matching ones, one red (Sam’s) and one blue. Mark had given his to Justin the first time he brought him to Sydney and he hadn’t been well. Times like this, a bit of childhood comfort was welcome. When Mark began to wake, he closed the book over in it lap and set it aside and once Mark spotted him and they made eye contact (even if Mark’s eyes were puffy and open with barely more than a squint), Sam sat forward, pressing his lips together with a deep exhale through his nose. “It’s time, Sparky.”
Mark’s head felt like it had been up close and personal with a brick wall. He was lying on his side with pillows wedged behind his back and when he went to rub his face, found there was an IV line in the back of his hand. But he wasn’t in hospital. He was in his room at his parents’ place and he felt fucking horrible. He wasn’t sure he could even speak without spewing but he heard what Sam said and put his hand over his face while the shame and guilt broke through the hangover haze and hit him like a tonne of bricks. It wasn’t like you didn’t know why you did this. You did. All too much and all too harsh. It got too much and too loud, and you were too weak to resist reaching for the bottle again. He knew his twin was right. That didn’t make it any easier to face. It probably made it worse.
Sam watched Mark, knowing he was feeling some of his pain and it killing him that he couldn’t take it away for him. But these demons were too much of a monster for any of them to conquer alone, especially Mark. “I love you more than anything, Sparky, but I can’t live through hell with you again. Not right now. I have my own battle I’m trying to figure out how to fight and I don’t think I have the strength for both of us this time. If you don’t stop, this will kill you. And I know this is going to destroy you to hear but I’ll be the one who has to tell your son, your daughter, your wife that you’re dead. I need you to work with me. They need you to.” He paused momentarily to gather his thoughts. As much as he wanted to go easy on Mark, he also knew the window of opportunity could slam shut if Mark got too upset or distressed. “What triggered this episode?”
“I— I don’t—” Mark started to cry and grabbed the edge of the mattress to try to pull himself up when he reflexively responded to the urge to run away and not have to face all this head-on. Not yet. But he knew he had to. There was no running from an inner demon that would, as Sam so harshly reminded him, kill him.
“No, no… don’t try to move.” Sam got up and went to sit on the side of the bed next to his brother, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. He grabbed the box of tissues from the bedside table and put them where Mark could easily access them. “You hit your head when you passed out and fell. If you try to move too much too soon, you’re going to black out or start vomiting again and I’ve barely started to rehydrate you. You did a number on yourself. I really need you to just lie there and rest because I need a fucking rest too. But we’re still going to talk.”
“Sammy—”
Putting his hand on Mark’s arm, Sam shook his head. “I need you to listen to me first. It’s important. Things I think you’ve forgotten and need to hear again. Every single time we’ve nearly lost Justin, you have said you would give your lift to save him. You’ve also said you would rather die than hurt your kids. And I know you meant every word, every single time you’ve said it. But I don’t think you’ve ever truly confronted that destroying yourself, harming yourself, is one thing that will hurt them the most. Sparky, I’ve already buried a wife and a son. I can’t bury my twin too. No, I’m not overexaggerating here. You have no idea what the last twenty-four hours have been like. You could’ve ended up in the ICU room nextdoor to your kid. How do you think he would cope with that? Dad fighting for his life on one side of him and his fiancé on the other, no one able to promise him either if you would wake up. This wasn’t just a few too many. I’m not unconvinced it wasn’t a suicide attempt.” He gave Mark a few moments to let that sink in, before, “Was it? That comment the other day about being glad both your kids have more than two parents.”
Mark was silent, hand over his face with his finger and thumb squeezing his temples. The pain in his head went beyond a headache and the pain in every inch of his soul went beyond any simple answer. He couldn’t look at Sam. He felt like he couldn’t look at anyone again. Justin never spoke much about how he felt waking up after a suicide attempt to realise he was still here and that’s all Mark could think about. Sam’s words were so heavy and hurt so much that he could barely keep listening but he knew he had to. His twin wasn’t bullying him or trying to hurt him. He was the only one who knew everything and would only ever be firm and direct if it was in the interest of protecting Mark and his wellbeing. Still, it was agony. Everything was agony. “I’m gonna be sick.”
Sam grabbed the blue laundry bucket that had been getting a hell of a workout since Sam got their dad to help carry Mark to bed while he was still out cold. He had no choice but to tell their parents what had happened, and then had to deliver the bad news to Gen and Alexis to explain why neither he nor Mark could be at the hospital. Gen was devastated and wanted to be there but she knew they had to all share the job of being at the hospital with the boys in a vain attempt to not elude to Justin that there was anything the matter. He would realise soon enough and start asking questions. Sam hoped by then he and Mark would be able to go see him. Mark had an extremely difficult conversation to have with his son and Sam also had something important he needed to talk to his nephew about. But it was a juggling act of timing so more shit didn’t keep hitting more fans.
He waited the wave of sickness out and didn’t say anything, rubbing Mark’s back. There was nothing worse than having to deal with something emotional and traumatic when you were feeling physically atrocious but none of this could wait. Mark’s silence answered a lot of questions for Sam and he felt sick inside too thinking about it. Once Mark was done, he helped him have some water to rinse his mouth and wiped his face and nape of his neck with a damp cloth. “I’m here, okay. You’re not alone. I’m never going to let you be alone.”
“I don’t want Justin to know, Sammy. He can’t know.” Mark laid back down, rubbing his face. He wanted to go back to sleep but now he had to confront this, he, too, knew Justin would ask questions if he was absent from the hospital too long and no one was telling him why. “What have you told him?”
“Nothing. He’s mostly been sleeping. Doesn’t talk a lot when he’s awake. Hasn’t asked where anyone is. We both know that won’t last. He’s just going through a low of his own. If he can’t talk to Sash, he’d rather talk to no one. I’m not going to tell him anything, okay? But I won’t piss in your pocket and tell you it’s raining by letting you think I believe it’s a good idea to not tell him anything. I think you need to talk to him. As soon as you can be upright without passing out or spewing, I’m taking you to the hospital so you can talk to him. It doesn’t matter what you say, Sparky, but you owe it to him. I’m not going to let you do the one thing he’s begged you not to. Keep things from him. Your kids are your reason to live. You need him as much as he needs you.” Sam stood to take the bucket to the bathroom but as soon as he was on his feet, he was hit by a wave of dizziness and had to sit straight back down, putting the bucket back on the floor before he dropped it.
Mark grabbed Sam’s arm, even if he would’ve been useless if Sam dropped to the floor because he was too weak to catch him. “Sammy! Fuck. You should be—”
“What?!” Sam snapped, pulling his arm away. “Resting? How the fuck can I rest when my twin is writing himself with pills and booze to the point of being paralytic, whether he meant to or not, and bashing his head so hard on the coffee table, he’s concussed?! I can’t fucking rest, I had to nurse you through this to make sure you didn’t fucking die and I had to do what I could to keep from getting you rushed to hospital so your kid has the best fighting chance of recovery himself. So, no. I can’t fucking rest. I had to wait this out because if you had a cardiac arrest and died, I would’ve been the one that had to tell him his dad was dead. How the fuck am I supposed to rest while I’m waiting out whether I’ll need to face that or not and trying to rehearse in my head over and over what I should say? Just for once, spare me the patronizing bullshit. You haven’t had the capacity to care how any of this is impacting on me.”
Mark recoiled for the mere reason Sam hardly ever snapped or lost his temper. But he knew this wasn’t a temper, it was frustration and exhaustion. The truth felt like a slap in the face — a sobering one Mark needed — and he couldn’t process it at first. Not until a few shameful moments passed and thick, heavy guilt settled like a brick in his gut. He pulled himself up on the pillows so he could be even just a bit more propped up than feeling incapacitated in the recovery position. “Your treatment…”
Sam just shook his head and closed his eyes, pressing the tips of his fingers into the corners of his eyes. “What about it? I can’t start my treatment until you’re safely through detox. You need to get safely through detox before you can start meds to combat your cravings.”
“I’ll go to rehab,” Mark insisted.
“Weeks on end away from Justin while Sash is still on life support? Don’t be a fucking idiot.” Sam wet his lips and sighed. His energy to fight was depleted beyond zero. “No, seriously. Don’t. The sooner you start to get your shit together, the sooner I can start treatment. Before we go and see Justin, I want you to give me a name of a psych here you trust and I’ll make you an urgent appointment. You need your meds assessed and you need to talk to someone.”
Mark’s hands were trembling and he put both of them up to his mouth, trying to take some deep breaths but he was suddenly overcome with an icy wave of dread that felt like it was trying to drown him. “I dunno if I can do it. I—” The words were swallowed up when he broke down sobbing again.
Sam tucked his hand behind Mark’s head and leaned over to kiss his forehead. “That’s why I’m doing it with you. We’ll get through it, Sparky. I just need you to do one thing right now. Try to remember what you tell your son when he’s at rock bottom. Please try,” he begged in a whisper.
LOG, COMPLETE