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stan is a dog with the fire of hell under his paws who is so tired of running. kyle is a ram with broken horns, still trying to bash through his problems. eric is a cat running out of lives. kenny is a deer with a fatal wound who keeps moving anyways. leo is a wolf with a choke chain staked into the ground.
begin again au where eddie is a singer songwriter who moves to new york with his singer songwriter boyfriend, who recently got "discovered" when his song was put in a movie.
said boyfriend has an affair with someone on his team from the label, and eddie dumps him on the spot and stays with chrissy for the night because he has nowhere else to go.
chrissy drags him to a local dive bar for an open mic night, and she pushes him to get up onstage where he sings one of his newer songs.
it gets a lukewarm reaction from the crowd, barely any reaction actually, but eddie doesn't care. it's whatever.
except, as he's slumping back onto his stool, he's approached by this guy. this beautiful beautiful guy who sort of looks a little worse for wear and absolutely, definitely is drunk because he starts going on and on about how incredible eddies song was and how great his voice is and how he hears things, hears whole arrangements, and that's what he heard with eddies song. he tells eddie he's a music producer, that he wants to sign eddie.
eddie doesn't believe him. tells him he doesn't want to be signed anyways.
this guy — steve, his business card says — accepts the rejection, and leaves. but then when eddie himself finally decides to leave the bar, steve's outside, like he was waiting for him. here he admits that he couldn't actually sign eddie even if he wanted to, and explains how he basically just got fired from his label and that's how he ended up at the bar, drinking himself into a stupor.
they hit up another bar together, and get to chatting some more, about music, about their careers. and at the end of the night, steve proposes signing eddie again, tells him he can make it happen if he really wants it. eddie makes a promise that he'll call steve the next day to let him know what he decides.
the next day rolls around and eddie calls. he tells steve's he's in. so steve picks him up and steve takes him to his label and he has eddie play for his boss — who tells steve he's just not into it. steve pitches they get eddie in the studio, get him some back up instruments to really get the full vision he heard in the bar, find someone who will produce it and then give it a new listen with fresh ears. his boss tells him they don't make demos, so come back with a real one yourself and we'll talk.
steve's disappointed by that, but he's not going to let that discourage him. he and eddie get coffee after and steve's thinking a mile a minute, tells eddie fuck that they don't need a demo, they don't even need a studio. all they need is eddie, his guitar, and the city. they'll record outside, right here in the city — a whole album, every song in a new location.
and eddie — he fucking loves the idea.
they get chrissy to help with the recording, and they comb the city for musicians. they find gareth on the drums, jeff with his bass, archie with his guitar. lucas with his cello, erica with her violin. robin with her trumpet. dustin with his keyboard. one by one they fold them into this project, add them to their band.
they record in alleyways, on rooftops, in parks, in the subway, all over the city. they use the background noise to their advantage. they make fucking magic with it.
along the way, of course, eddie and steve fall in love.
when they finish the album, they meet with steve's old boss again, who loves what they've done. eddie demands he give steve his job back and for a bigger share in the deal. but steve's boss isn't down for that, as great as their album is.
when all is said and done, eddie decides he doesn't care if he's been signed or not. he decides to distribute the album online for $1. steve calls in a favor from an old friend, an old journalist friend who's known for her honest music reviews, who has a pretty big following because of it, and she — nancy — helps promote the album. she gets the word out, and they release the album.
and it does fucking incredible.
and it's all thanks to steve. and the beautiful record they created together. the beautiful journey they went on together.
in the end, eddie doesn't care that this whole thing didn't work out the way he'd hoped it would at the start of this all because, well, he's had the fucking time of his life making this album, and he's made so many friends along the way, and he — he's fallen in love. and it's the best thing thats ever happened to him. steve is the best thing that's ever happened to him.
he couldn't be happier.
Begin Again - (Chapter V)
And So We Meet Again Oxford, England
Previously…
At that moment her pager went off, announcing that she was needed elsewhere. She looked at it and frowned, returning her attention back to Jamie
“Well, that’s my cue. If I don’t see you before you’re discharged, just know that it was a pleasure to meet you, and I wish you the best of luck.”
Before Jamie even had the chance to respond, she was gone.
*** September 22nd, 1977
One year ago today, his life changed drastically. In the year since then, so much had happened and he wasn’t even there for four of those months—not really.
It’s surprising how fast the human body deteriorates when it isn’t able to move or eat or drink. The only sustenance he could get was through a GI tube, and you could hardly call that food.
By the time he woke up, he didn’t recognize himself, and his family had a hard time coming to terms with his appearance even though they’d sat by his bedside for months.
He’d been discharged as an inpatient five months ago, but was back at the hospital more times than he could count for his physical therapy sessions.
52 weeks, 365 days, 525600 minutes since he had broken practically every part of him, and yet it seemed like no time at all. Yet at the same time, it felt like forever.
You know how time seems to go slower when you’re anticipating something? You’re constantly looking at the clock and it seems like it’s been five minutes since you last looked at it but when you check it again it’s really only been one?
For five months Jamie’s life was a lot like that. Working to get back to the man he was, but in the back of his mind there was a little voice saying ‘what for?’
It took only three months for his body to deteriorate to what looked like a skeleton, but it would take a lot more than three months to get it all back.
In five months, he no longer looked like a dead man walking- at least, but he was still thin.
Everything had healed rather nicely— though there were plenty of scars that would stay with him for the rest of his life, reminding him of that day and every day since. All but his hand.
His hand was the reason why he needed the physical therapy. It had been badly damaged in the accident and while the surgeons were able to put the bones back in place—a rod here and there —and sew the skin back together, he couldn’t use it himself for three months, so doctors had to flex it for him—that set them back a bit.
He’d made a lot of progress since he woke up, but his hand still pained him, but it was his heart that hurt the most.
Five months ago Claire said goodbye to him, in case she didn’t see him before he got discharged. He’d been discharged less than an hour after she’d gone, and he hadn’t seen her since.
He didn’t think anything of it at the time, he would be back at the hospital enough times in the coming year that surely he’d see her again.
Except he hadn’t, and he never got the chance to say goodbye. Besides, he didn’t want to say goodbye, he wanted to say hello.
***
Begin Again - (Chapter IV)
Disclaimer: I’m not a doctor and have very little medical knowledge, so I apologize for any mistakes
Previously...
The Beginning Oxford, England
He felt like he was floating, just beneath the surface of a lake, the buoyancy of his body bringing him closer and closer to the surface.
It was very similar to when you’re half asleep and it suddenly feels like you’re falling, but just before you hit the ground your body jerks you awake.
He didn’t remember much of the accident, but he did remember the weeks where he lived somewhere outside his body—the in between— and he remembered it vividly.
It was a sort of comfort, to wake up and be somewhat familiar with your surroundings. Not just waking up somewhere and having no idea how you got there in the first place.
Time had not been kind to him. He was once in peak condition, the perfect balance between muscle and fat. Now, he had been reduced to almost nothing. The only source of nutrition he had was a GI tube that snaked its way down from his nose into his stomach.
Lying in a hospital bed for months without leaving it for even a moment allowed his muscles to atrophy to nothing. He looked almost skeletal: the framework of his bones so clear and visible beneath the skin that he looked as though he would shatter if a fly landed on him.
His skin was once sun-kissed, though still pale. But now there was absolutely no color to him at all. He practically blended in with the stark-white of the hospital sheets.
His cheeks were gaunt, every socket and hollow in his skull pronounced as his skin clung to bone. His eyes were sunken into his skull, with deep dark bags just underneath.
He looked nothing like himself, he was quite literally a ghost.
Jenny was reduced to sobs when she saw him. The feeling bittersweet—because while he was finally awake after weeks of hoping and praying; they hardly recognized him.
It was different, seeing the man who she knew to be her brother inside this body. It wasn’t the same as looking at his inert form that never spoke or moved.
The only identifiable features that were pure Jamie was the short copper hair on his head that had been shaved when he arrived, and crystal blue eyes. And even then he looked an impostor.
Wee Jamie was terrified of his uncle, he refused to hug or even look at him. It pained all of them to see him react that way, because his uncle was once his favorite person in the world. But he was too young to comprehend the tragedy that had befallen him, and what time takes from a person who is completely helpless.
They all looked at him differently now. His father, Jenny, and Ian. They were grateful that God had returned him to them, but they would never look at him without thinking about the accident and the aftermath. It would plague them for the rest of their lives.
It made Jamie feel guilty. Not that anything that happened was his fault, but he couldn’t help but think that they would never be the same family they were.
But at least there was Claire.
“You’re awake!” She exclaimed with her eyes wide and a grin so big it was almost comical.
She’d heard the news a few hours earlier, but gave Jamie some time to get reacquainted with himself and his surroundings.
Jamie looked up from the book he was reading—though he had no idea what it was about, he just enjoyed the feeling of it in his hands.
He returned the smile in kind, “So I am.”
Claire made her way over to his bedside, quickly checking him over with her pen-light and stethoscope, making sure his vitals were somewhat normal before planting herself in the chair next to him.
“Well, how do you feel?”
Jamie exhaled with a small chuckle and placed the book on the bedside table. “Like I've been hit by a bus.”
She laughed and nervously attempted to smooth the creases in her scrubs before returning her gaze back to him. “Well, you’re not far off.” She paused for a moment, and took a breath.
“Do you remember anything? About the accident, I mean.”
Jamie sighed and closed his eyes, trying to think back. “No, not really. The last thing I remember was singing along to the radio on my way to work. Next thing I know i’m lying in a hospital bed attached to every machine on the planet.” He lifted an arm that was connected to an IV—along with a heartbeat monitor clipped to his finger—in example.
It wasn’t the full truth, but he wasn’t about to tell her that his ‘astral projection’ —or whatever the hell it might be—observed nearly everything that happened in between. The last thing he needed was to be committed to a psych ward.
Claire frowned and then shrugged, getting up and moving away from the chair. “Well, perhaps it’s better that way.” She gave him a friendly smile and took another step towards the door.
She hesitated, turning back to look at him.
Jamie cocked his head to the side in confusion after she didn’t say anything. “Is there something on my face?” He brought up a hand to wipe at his mouth before looking at it and finding nothing.
“No, it’s just… Now that you’re awake, there’s going to be a lot of physical therapy and all sorts of tests. The road back to recovery won’t be easy, and there will be times when you just want to give up. Just… try to remember that you’ve come back from the brink of death, and the worst is already behind you.”
At least I hope. She added, only to herself
She’d been right, it wasn’t easy. It was almost as if he’d been reborn and had to learn everything for the first time again.
It felt good to finally leave that bed, but he could hardly walk. His legs weren’t used to supporting his weight, thin as he was.
The first time he’d seen his reflection, he thought someone else was staring back at him, only to realize the wraith in the mirror was indeed him.
Everything took time, and Jamie was impatient. He’d already wasted three months of his life withering away to nothing, and now he had to work to get it all back.
But he was determined. Even if his body wouldn’t do what he was telling it to, he never gave up. He learned to appreciate all the little things in his life, because he knew it could all be gone in a second. He’d been lucky. Lucky that he hadn’t lost his life, or the ability to walk or think or talk. Because he knew that there were people who weren’t so lucky, and people who would never have a second chance.
Not once did he take it for granted. He would return to the man he had been, it all just took time.
Therapy was thorough and rigorous, but it needed to be. Although surgeons were able to set the bones in his hand, he had no use for it while he was comatose. Doctors would need to move and flex his hand for him, so it wouldn’t become stiff and immobile—so he would still have use of it in the hopes that he would wake up.
It was painful, working to try and get back to who he was before. His hand would never regain complete range of motion, but at least he could have some.
He would need to come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t possible to be who he was before. The accident happened, and he couldn’t just go back in time and undo it; as much as he might like to. His body bore plenty of scars that would be a constant reminder, it was a part of him now.
Claire visited him often—whenever she had the chance. She was no longer assigned to his case, and either way he would be discharged soon.
She always had some excuse to see him, but the real reason she kept to herself.
Jamie scrunched his nose and spit out the bland bread that he’d been chewing. “I’ve been here nigh on four months, and I still haven’t gotten used to the food.” He chuckled and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“Technically seven,” She corrected. “And I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to get used to it.” Claire flashed him a smile, whiskey eyes sparkling.
He could stare into her eyes for hours and never tire of it. He wanted to drown in them.
“Aye, well. I think the first thing i’m doing once i’m out is getting a big, greasy hamburger with large fries. And a shake.” He had tried to wink, but it turned out to be more of a slow, owlish blink than anything.
She closed her eyes and smiled, her mouth watering at the thought.
At that moment her pager went off, announcing that she was needed elsewhere. She looked at it and frowned, returning her attention back to Jamie
“Well, that’s my cue. If I don’t see you before you’re discharged, just know that it was a pleasure to meet you, and I wish you the best of luck.”
Before Jamie even had the chance to respond, she was gone.
Begin Again - (Chapter II)
hey guys! so i’m back writing and I finally semi-finished something. at least enough so it could be posted. while this part will be longer than it’s predecessors, it is still rather short. however, i am trying to get my ass into gear and write as much as i can as i currently have all the free time in the wmiorld. thank you guys for being patient and sticking with me it really means a lot to me!
i’d also like to dedicate this particular post to @mibasiamille because as of yesterday it has been one year since we have started talking! also to @marlosbooknook because it will be one year on tuesday! i love you guys so much and i can’t thank you enough!
previously... prologue, chapter I
As If In a Dream
Oxford, England
He didn’t remember the crash, the moments leading up to it, nor the few seconds he was conscious afterward. The next thing he knew he was in a hospital, staring down at his own mangled body.
At first he thought it all a dream. Only, the dream never seemed to end. He willed himself to wake up, to end the nightmare that felt all too real.
Except it was real, and he was no longer inside of his body.
He witnessed all of it. Every single thing that his body of flesh and bone endured at the hands of nurses and doctors.
He watched himself waste away into almost nothing, and no matter how much he wanted or tried to pull himself from his comatose state, it was of no use.
He wanted to wake up, to return to his family—his life—but he wasn’t sure how.
He had been loved from the first, even when he was merely a thought in his mother’s head. He had been forged by a love stronger and bigger than perhaps the Earth itself.
The second his parents had learned of his impending arrival, that love had only grown. And it wasn’t just his parents, either. His older siblings, Willie and Jenny were so excited to have another brother or sister to play and share their lives with.
Then it was nine months of waiting and wishing and dreaming of who their child would be, and who they would become.
On the first of May, 1954, James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser was born, the son of Ellen and Brian. He was a beautiful, healthy baby boy that possessed his mother’s copper hair and as they would later find out, her ocean blue eyes as well.
Jamie had grown up on an estate known as “Lallybroch” in the highlands of Scotland. He and the rest of his siblings were all homeschooled by their mother, and when they weren’t schooling, Jamie and Willie would help their father tend to the farm.
When he was six, Jamie lost his brother to pneumonia. Jamie had followed Willie around almost everywhere, so much so that Willie had begun referring to his little brother as his “shadow”. Willie was his best friend and everything Jamie aspired to be, until it was all ripped away.
Two years later, he lost his mother and baby brother to childbirth. They were never the same after that.
The years following seemed to bleed together, as he found himself simply surviving instead of living.
Then, in 1975 when Jamie was twenty-two, he moved to Oxford to pursue higher education. He’d needed to get a job as well to keep up with his rent and tuition. It was difficult, juggling the task of being a full-time student while maintaining a part-time job.
He would work in the mornings, and attend class at night. He never thought that simply driving to work would drastically change everything.
Twenty-three years of life, twenty-three years of happiness and sadness, love and loss—all of it, ripped away in a second.
As soon as they’d learned of the accident and Jamie’s condition, his family had immediately booked a one-way ticket to Oxford. His father, his sister Jenny and brother-in-law Ian, and their son—his namesake—wee Jamie, had all come to visit him and pray for his recovery.
They would cry and beg with some unseen force for his life and recovery, all to no avail.
Jamie himself (or the spirit of him) stood witness to it all, trying to comfort his family and give them some solace, to let them know that he was there, and that he was listening.
Yet his words fell on deaf ears, and all he could do was stand there and watch his family as they prepared themselves for yet another loss.
Time passed but they remained much the same. Frozen in some space of time where there was nothing but pain and sorrow. As long as Jamie was unconscious, they would be stuck in that space in time praying to a God that they began to doubt even existed.
Jamie himself (or at least what remained of him) did his best to remain hopeful and fight for his life, but with each passing day it only seemed to become more and more futile.
I’m tired. So verra tired. I’m not sure I can do it anymore, I’m sorry.
The steady, constant beeping of the heart monitor at his bedside suddenly flatlined; And once again, the life of Jamie Fraser hung in the balance.
read the next part here!
Begin Again - (Chapter I)
Read the prologue here
Thank you to @marlosbooknook and @mibasiamille for helping me edit and listening to my constant whining, really don’t know why you put up with me but thank you and ily
(Also a note: I’m not a doctor so i’m sorry if some of this is wrong I relied entirely on google and what I remember from my anatomy class. Plus Grey’s Anatomy but that’s not all accurate and a full out shit show at this point so let’s just ignore that)
And thank you all so much for your comments on the prologue, I’m so glad you enjoyed it!
Limbo
22nd September 1976
Oxford, England
One moment. One tiny, insignificant moment, and his entire world shifted.
It was a head-on collision with a semi: the driver fell asleep at the wheel and veered right in front of him. Jamie didn’t have any time to react; it had all happened so fast.
It was more than likely that he wouldn’t remember any of it, due to the damage to his brain. But his life was no longer in his hands.
First responders arrived at the scene almost five minutes–five long minutes–after it happened. He was unconscious, lying in the middle of the road. The impact of the crash had ejected him from his seat, through the windshield, and onto the street.
The list of injuries were endless: from broken bones to open wounds. Some of the shards of glass from the windows had embedded themselves into his skin, but the rest was scattered on the concrete around him.
The biggest concern of the medical team was his head and spinal cord. It was impossible to tell what state they were in, given that the patient unconscious. They worked as fast as they could to get him on the stretcher and immobilized, while also being careful enough not to jostle him too much. Once he was secured inside the ambulance, he was rushed to the A&E.
He was only going to work. It was supposed to be like any other day.
None of this was supposed to happen.
They took him from the ambulance directly into the OR, assessing the damage and figuring out how to proceed from there.
Over the course of the next few months, he would be in that OR three times.
His condition was critical and he couldn’t be under anesthesia for very long, so the surgeries had to be spread out, allowing his body time to recover.
He sustained multiple injuries: right leg broken in two places, once in the left; multiple cracked and broken ribs; the right shoulder dislocated and the radius of the left arm severely fractured. A back full of glass, some pieces almost three inches long. Some internal bleeding in the abdomen, but luckily the medical team had found the source in time to stop it. If they hadn’t, it would have caused his brain to hemorrhage and, ultimately, could have ended his life.
There was some bleeding and swelling in his brain that they had gotten under control, but there was no telling the prognosis until he was conscious. Miraculously, however, his spinal cord had remained unharmed.
His right hand was the worst of it: the bones of his ring finger were almost completely shattered, the middle finger a compound fracture, the bone sticking obtrusively through the skin. They predicted that he wouldn’t regain full range of motion in that hand again, but with lots of physical therapy it could come close.
The first surgery was getting the bleeding in his abdomen and brain under control, as well as the swelling. Then, debriding his back and several other places on his body, followed by cleaning every wound to reduce the risk of infection.
Unfortunately, that was all they could do for the day.
The next day was setting the broken bones. Everything went relatively smooth until they got to his hand, which took the longest.
The very last surgery consisted entirely of applying the skin grafts to his back.
After a few weeks, he was able to breathe on his own. In the days that followed, they remained hopeful that he would recover. They waited for him to wake up, each day hoping that today would be the day.
But the days went by, and he never did.
read the next part here!
when i find you, you're always so quiet. you've never talked a lot, but you've never been silent. it scares me. you're still here, right? still you, under the dirt, the mycelia, the blood? you'll come back to me, with time. like always. you keep telling me not to worry, this is normal. you've always done this.
i don't remember it happening before. no one else comes back like this. when i'm with you, the hot breath of my own mortality seems to slip away. i feel it again when you're gone.
just what are you, kenny?
did you hear the hounds baying? something happened last night. your heart stopped again. i held you until i couldn't keep my eyes open. you were gone again when i woke up. i'll find you, don't worry! i always do. unless i don't, this time-? no, no. i'll find you. i promise. we'll make it. i'll make it.
the dogs are still outside. there's growling in my skull, back far behind my brain. i think he wants to talk to me. i don't know what he could possibly have to say. an apology? would he finally acknowledge me? would he tell me where you're going to grow again?
maybe he wants to attack me- oh, god, or whatever's left- i can't get devoured now. i have a soul to find.
