Chapter 1

The wooden plank hit the side of his head and he went down immediately. Someone yanked his jacket aside and he could feel them rifling through his pockets. He moaned in protest. He felt feet kick his ribs and the jolts of pain were blinding. He closed his eyes and tried to keep breathing. Another stab of pain felt like it sheared off his forehead and everything went black.

-----

"So what did you see?" the policeman asked the middle aged couple.

"Not a whole lot," the man said. "As soon as we saw the poor guy being kicked we yelled and the attackers took off."

"Is he going to be all right?" the woman asked. She was in her late forties and visibly shaking as her husband held her up. They had taken off their own coats and covered the body of the man while they waited for the ambulance to arrive.

"I don't know," the policeman replied. "He was breathing. That's as much as I can tell you."

"I … I hope he makes it," the woman said.

"Can you describe the attackers?"

"There were two men wearing dark jackets, blue or black," the man explained. "They had the collars pulled up so I couldn't get a good look at them."

"Were they black, white, Asian?" the policeman inquired.

"Both white, I think."

"Anything else that stands out about them?"

"One of them seemed a little older…" the man hesitated. "He had scary eyes."

"Scary? How?"

"He looked at me when I yelled for them to stop kicking that man. But … but it was like … like he looked right through me. There was such coldness in his eyes."

"Would you be able to identify him if you saw him again?"

"I'm sure I will never forget those eyes," the man said with a shudder.

"Thanks for your help. Call this number if you remember anything else." He handed the man his card. "I have your name and number if we need to contact you, and thanks for your help. You may have saved this guy's life."

"I certainly hope so," the man replied. "May I take my wife home now?"

"Go right ahead, and thanks again."

-----

Darkness swirled all around him. He felt like he was drowning in the blackness. He tried to raise his head, tried to breathe, tried to see, but all was heavy and black and empty. He couldn't move no matter how much he struggled. It was all he could do to breathe. Then everything ceased to exist once more.

Some time later he tried to move. He groaned at the intense pain that wracked his body. He moaned and attempted to speak. He was sure his mouth was moving but he could hear nothing. And the darkness, the total blackness continued to surround him. He thought he heard a voice and then everything returned to the endless void.

Hours later he sensed someone standing near him. All remained enveloped in blackness but he knew someone was there. He tried to speak and thought he heard a voice from somewhere off in the darkness.

He tried to raise his arm, but the attempt was futile. He thought his eyes were open but he could see nothing. There must be bandages covering them. What the fuck had happened? He lifted his hand with great effort, but couldn't seem to raise his arm to reach his face. He felt a wave of panic. How could he be this weak? He wanted to call out but that would take too much effort. He dropped his hand back to the bed and decided to wait. Maybe someone would come and help him. Maybe the person whose voice he had heard. Maybe they would come and tell him what the fuck was going on. He was sure he had heard someone. But maybe he had been dreaming. He tried to speak again and heard another moan. He tried to clear his throat. It was so dry and he could hardly make air pass through. Panic rose again and he wanted to scream, but he couldn't fight his way through the blackness.

"Stay still," a female voice said. "The doctor's coming."

"Umm," he groaned. He couldn't seem to get his voice to work.

The doctor arrived almost immediately and took his pulse. "How do you feel?" the doctor asked.

"Thirsty," he managed to croak.

"You can give him a few ice chips," the doctor said to the nurse.

He sucked greedily on the little pieces of ice. It made his throat feel much better.

"So weak," he groaned.

"You were severely beaten and you've been in a coma for two days."

"What happened?" he asked as the nurse kept feeding him the ice chips and his voice and body responded to the blessed liquid.

"We were hoping you could tell us," the doctor answered.

"Don't remember," he said frowning.

"Do you know your name?"

"Of course, it's Brian Kinney," Brian rasped out.

"That's good, Mr. Kinney. Your memory seems to be intact except for the actual moment of the trauma. That's not unusual."

"Why was I beaten up?"

"I don't know, but you had no identification on you. It was probably a mugging. Your wallet was taken."

"Shit!"

"We didn't know who you were until you were able to give us your name just now."

"So nobody knows I'm here?"

"Nobody has been asking for you that I am aware of," the doctor explained. He looked at the nurse who shook her head.

Brian sighed. His fucking family wouldn't give a shit if he was lying in a hospital bed somewhere. They would be more pleased if he was lying in a pine box. His friends probably thought he was on some sort of orgy, and weren't the least bit worried about him. Brian sighed and tried to raise his arm to wipe at his eyes.

"Can you take these bandages off, Doc?" Brian asked.

"What bandages? The ones around your head have to stay for a day or two. Your knees are bandaged where they were scraped when you fell."

"The ones on my eyes."

The nurse and the doctor exchanged worried looks.

"There are no bandages on your eyes, sir."

"But … I can't see … anything," Brian breathed.

"Let me see," the doctor said moving around.

Brian felt him pull back his eyelid and then nothing. It was still black.

"Did you see anything?" the doctor asked.

"Nothing … oh, fuck," Brian gasped as the significance of what the doctor had done began to strike home. "I'm blind."

"Now don't panic," the doctor said. "You have had severe head trauma. There may have been some damage to the optic nerve."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Brian demanded.

"I'm trying to tell you that we need to do more tests."

"Tests?"

"We need to find out what's causing the blindness."

"What difference does it make what's causing it? If I'm blind…?" Brian moaned trying to control the intense feeling of dread that had overcome him. His life as he knew it was over.

"Once we know what's causing it, then we may be able to do something about it."

"You mean I could get my sight back?"

"Mr. Kinney, I can't answer that question at this point, but don't give up hope."

"Is there any hope?" Brian asked again. He needed something, anything, to hang onto, no matter how small or how fragile.

"There's always hope," the doctor said nonchalantly.

Brian would have punched him in the face if he had any idea where his fucking face might be. He sighed in resignation, but had to ask. "Can't you tell me any more? I need to know this will pass."

"There are no guarantees in medicine," the doctor stated.

"That's fucking comforting!"

"Mr. Kinney, I have other patients to see. I'm scheduling some tests for you starting tomorrow morning. We should know more after that. In the meantime, talk to Carol, your nurse. She will call anyone you want notified of what's happened."

"Thanks, doc," Brian said but he knew from the silence that the doctor had already left.

"Mr. Kinney," Carol said, "do you want me to call someone for you?"

"Um…" Brian hesitated. He should probably let Michael know what had happened, but he knew Michael would bring Debbie and Emmett and all the other shit that went along with them knowing. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. Maybe this would all be gone by tomorrow and he would be back to normal. Yeah, he'd be fine. He'd just wait. What else could he do?

"Mr. Kinney?" Carol repeated his name.

"I … I should call my work," he said. "Is there a phone here?"

"Yes, beside you on the left side on the nightstand. Would you like me to dial it for you?"

"Yeah, please," Brian said softly feeling very vulnerable. He couldn't even use the damn phone by himself, couldn't even find it by himself.

Carol dialed the number he gave her and shortly he was talking to Cynthia. He tried to keep his voice level as he told her that something major had come up and he was going to need a couple of weeks off work. He asked her to arrange that with Vance and told her that he would call in in a few days. She wanted more information but he managed to put her off.

When he finished talking to Cynthia he didn't know what to do with the phone. He leaned over to the left feeling for the base. His fingers slid up the cord until his hand brushed against something. He felt it tip and fall. He waited for the crash but when none came he knew it hadn't been something breakable. He felt the base of the phone and tried to position the receiver atop it. He leaned back exhausted from that small task. His ribs hurt like a motherfucker. He could hear an annoying beeping sound and couldn't figure out what it was. He felt around his bed trying to find the buzzer to call for a nurse. They gave those to every patient, didn't they? Even the blind ones.

Brian felt a tear escape his useless eyes and he managed to raise his hand enough to brush it away. What the fuck was he going to do?

"Mr. Kinney, are you all right?" Carol asked. He hadn't heard her come in.

"Yeah," Brian sighed. "I couldn't find the buzzer."

"It's in the railing on the bed." She guided his hand to the right spot. "Now take your hand away and see if you can find it by yourself." He did as she directed and found he could easily get to the button if he needed help. "What's that beeping sound?" she asked.

"I don't know. It started a while ago."

"Ah," she said. "You didn't get the phone in its cradle properly. That's what is making the noise … in protest," she laughed as she straightened it out and the annoying sound stopped. "I'm going to remove your catheter and your IV. Some real food is on its way up."

"Thanks," Brian said as she set about her business. He hated these indignities being perpetrated on his person, but what the fuck could he do about it, about anything?

-----

Brian knew he was being wheeled to some sort of test, but it was extremely disconcerting to be at the mercy of the person pushing his wheelchair, some orderly that he didn't know. He wished Carol was there with him. He trusted her. He held his breath half expecting at any second to run into a person or a wall, or to be dumped down a flight of stairs. Blindness was fucking scary.

Much later Brian was returned to his room in the same manner. The battery of tests they had put him through had exhausted him. The orderly helped him back into bed. He felt a little safer when he could lay his head on his pillow and close his eyes. Open eyes without sight made him feel nauseous. Before long he was asleep.

When dinner arrived Carol came in and woke him. He needed to pee. He hated to ask for assistance but he didn't know how else to get to the toilet. Carol guided him into the bathroom and positioned him in front of the toilet. He let go with a strong sense of relief. When he was done he fumbled around for the lever to flush. Everything was so hard to accomplish and took so fucking long. He called for Carol who assisted him back to his bed and began feeding him. He hated this, being treated like a baby, but he wasn't sure if he could do it by himself.

His first meal had been liquids, broth and juice and tea. Now he had graduated to more solid foods, still rather bland but he could recognize potato and what was probably boiled chicken. He ate it anyway feeling some comfort from almost normal food. He ate quite a bit of the mostly tasteless stuff. He knew he was getting stronger, stronger today than yesterday, and hopefully stronger tomorrow than he was today. If only his sight would come back…!

He dozed after his lunch and was awakened by the doctor who shook him gently. "I have some of the preliminary results of your tests," the doctor told him. Brian held his breath. "It looks like there is blood pooled near the optic nerve along with severe swelling in that area, probably the result of your head trauma."

"And that means?" Brian demanded. Please say that I will see again, please!

"It means that we are going to play a waiting game. With this type of injury, there is little that can be done surgically without causing more problems, so the best thing is to wait. The blood will gradually be absorbed back into your system and the swelling will start to subside."

"And how long is this likely to take?" Brian asked holding his breath once again.

"That's hard to predict."

"Days, weeks, months?"

"More likely weeks than days and maybe months. It's very hard to say."

"Fuck!" Brian breathed.

"The good news is that all your other injuries are superficial. You're healing nicely. Other than bruising and scrapes, you're almost back to normal."

"Normal? I can't fucking see and you're telling me I'm back to normal!"

"Mr. Kinney," the doctor let out a long, slow breath. "I can't make you any promises about what is going to happen. You have heard my best guess. We have to wait and see."

"I … I'm sorry, but I don't know how to do anything. I feel so fucking helpless and there's nothing I can do about it."

"Maybe there is something we can do about it," Dr. Hagen said carefully.

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Leave it with me for now. I have to check on a few things and I'll let you know tomorrow."

"Can't you tell me now?"

"I don't want to say anything until I check out whether this can be done or not."

"Okay, but let me know soon, doc."

"Tomorrow, Mr. Kinney."

Brian was about to say something, but he sensed movement and knew the doctor was gone. He laid his head on the pillow and sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. He wondered what the doctor was checking on. Maybe there was some revolutionary, experimental treatment they could use on him. Maybe the doctor could arrange for it right away, and he could get his sight back immediately. Maybe he would be all right and he could home to his life and his future. Maybe!