Title: Pact
Author: perfectionisty
Rating: PG-13
Summary: pact n.—an agreement made between two or more people, either formally or informally, to do something together or for each other
Disclaimer: This story is mine, all mine. Do not steal and do not copy.
A/N: Chapter Two. Eventually a full fledged novel. Please leave reviews. Please?

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Paul left the hospital as soon as Mrs. Veeto had woken up. He couldn’t stay a moment longer, not with his guilt hanging over him. Despite the pact, despite the promise, despite what he’d felt at the time, he couldn’t go through with it. Deep down, he’d probably known all along. But sitting there beside Dana, he couldn’t even bring himself to pick up the pillow.

Call it cowardly; he figured it was love.

For three days, Paul avoided both the hospital and all of the Veeto family. On the fourth day, he was woken up by a phone call.

“She’s awake,” Eve said, almost shouting over the noise on her end of the phone.

Paul sat there, not comprehending what the girl had said.

“Paul?” Eve asked the silence.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. I’ll stop by later,” he said. In a daze, he hit the end button, even though Eve was starting to say something again.

Dana was awake. Part of him was glad that he hadn’t gone through with the pact; she hadn’t been as bad off as he’d thought. He would have killed her when there was still a chance for survival.

Come to think of it, there were no other parts. Paul was happy, no, ecstatic that Dana was awake. She was awake and okay and life could go back to normal.

Still, it was quite a few more days before he returned to the hospital. Subconsciously, he supposed, he was a little scared of what Dana’s reaction would be. She hadn’t always been known for her great patience. But surely she would understand, understand that it was so much easier when it wasn’t real. Wouldn’t she?

The room was different this time when Paul walked in. There were fresh flowers and new balloons. It was crowded, full of family and friends. Paul felt like an intruder.

“Paul!” Mrs. Veeto cried upon seeing him. “Paul, come in, come in.”

The din in the room seemed to get quieter and quieter with every step he took towards the bed. Suddenly, there he was, standing right in front of her. He watched as her strained smile slowly slid off her face.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” he said sincerely, searching behind him for a chair.

“That makes one of us,” Dana replied.

“Dana, I’m sorry, okay? I tried, I did. And I couldn’t go through with it.”

“Bullshit. I bet you never even tried.” Her eyes were dark with hurt and anger.

“I was here for a week. God, I was so scared,” he said. He put his head in hands. “Besides, aren’t you glad I didn’t? I would have killed you when you still had a chance.”

“A chance, Paul? I’m a dancer. What am I supposed to do if my legs don’t work?”

“What?” Paul’s head shot up. “What are you talking about?”

Dana stared at the ceiling and blinked back tears. She opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by loud cheering.

“Thomas!” A tall, dark haired guy entered the room, ducking to get through the door frame.

Dana turned her head and a genuine smile broke out on her face. Thomas picked his way through the mass of people and came to the side of Dana’s bed. Paul politely gave Thomas his seat and took a few steps back.

“Oh, baby,” Thomas said as he sat down. “I was so worried about you, babe.” He took her hand and kissed it.

Thomas and Dana had been going out for about a year now and Paul really did like him. He was a good guy and treated her well. It had surprised Paul when he overheard Helen saying that Thomas hadn’t stopped by once while Dana had been comatose.

“Does it hurt a lot?” Thomas asked, brushing hair back from her face.

Dana nodded mutely; she was never one to admit pain. Paul was pulled back into the party reluctantly. The rest of their conversation was lost as the room’s inhabitants conversed. At some point, a doctor came in and made everyone leave. Paul made a move to leave as well when Mrs. Veeto stopped him.

“Where are you going, Paul?” she asked.

“Uh…I’m leaving. The doctor said anyone other than family had to leave,” he replied dumbly.

“You were here every day, sweetie. You should stay.”

Paul couldn’t exactly refuse. Despite how much he wanted to.

Dr. Debaunche launched into a long complicated discussion about Dana’s condition. Paul tuned him out completely, focusing instead on how Dana avoided his eyes.

“Just tell her what is wrong, god-dammit,” Dana finally said, interrupting the doctor’s speech.

“I…” the doctor looked uncomfortable, “I think you should tell her that.”

“Dana?” Helen said questioningly. “Dana, what’s going on?”

“I’m not telling her. It’s your job to tell her.”

Paul was utterly lost and felt helpless.

“Dana’s, erm, legs were, um, crushed under the car.” The doctor seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “When she was first brought here, we repaired the damage as best we could.”

Paul looked down for the first time and realized that there were huge mounds where Dana’s legs should have been.

“There was extensive nerve damage, though. From what Dana has been telling me, it appears that the damage was worse than we had initially hoped.”

“So what are you saying?” Paul asked.

“I can’t feel my legs, okay, idiot?” Dana said bitterly. “Is it really that hard to understand?”

Paul was taken aback. She couldn’t feel her legs? She was paralyzed? Sure, people were paralyzed in the movies and on T.V. He’d seen people in wheelchairs before, but he never imagined that it would happen to his very best friend.

“Oh, God,” Paul heard Helen say through the fog. He couldn’t bring himself to focus on the words, instead focusing on each individual letter. O, H, G, O. D, as in dancer.

“I’m a dancer. What am I supposed to do if my legs don’t work?” The fog cleared instantly. She’d said it, just minutes ago, the sadness bare in her words. Dana had been a dancer for…forever. It was her thing, her ticket into college and, hopefully, life. She breathed dance, ate dance, dreamed dance.

Just like the red hair and pale skin, dancing was what made Dana who she was. Of course, it hadn’t always been that way. For years, all she had wanted to do was play soccer. Then, the team got cancelled and she had nothing to do after school. On a whim, Helen had signed her up for ballet class at the local dance studio. As soon as Dana had found out, she refused to go, claiming that she would have to be dragged to the class. Helen had, in fact, dragged her all the way up the stairs and into the studio, sitting her down with a firm plop and firm instructions to behave.

An hour later, Dana had to be dragged away. Somewhere between the tutus and plies, she had fallen in love. The next year, she begged her mom to sign her up for tap classes. As she got older, she added more and more classes, taking everything she could get her hands on. By the time they were in high school, Dana took eight hours of class a week and was on the performing team.

And suddenly here she was, both legs in casts and no feeling that they were even there.

“Now, I know this is a lot to handle. But there is still hope. We need to run some tests, now that Dana is awake, to figure out exactly what is wrong. As of right now, we have no way of knowing if this damage is permanent or simply temporary, and it may be quite a while until we know for sure.” The doctor kept going, handing out reassurances as if they were on sale at K-Mart. Blue light special on condolences in the back of the store.

Paul didn’t feel like making a mad dash to grab the first one. He figured there would be plenty to go around.