Grounded

Rehab for anyone who has to go through it is undeniably difficult and challenging. Rehab for someone who is also recovering from a physical injury must be even harder, or so James thought. But James was determined to see this through and find some way of having a life again.

            All in all the rehab place itself wasn’t that bad. The rooms were nice enough and comfortable, the other 'guests' were all pretty friendly, if and when he met them. It would just take time, that was what everyone kept telling him. Time.

James had never been a patient person. The sedate nature of this place irritated him as often as he appreciated the quiet. It was undoubtedly a very confusing time for him.

James’s first few weeks at the rehab centre were probably the hardest he’d ever had. The dizzy spells were almost unbearable, if it wasn’t for the staff who helped him at the worst point he might have been tempted to revert to old habits. It took a while but slowly, painfully slowly, he began to feel more like himself. The pain and dizziness were lessening, his memory was improving. He could stand without a balancing aid but still needed some help to walk further than a few steps at first. But walking was something he could see improving, it was something he could actually put the effort into getting better at. The hall outside his room was a loop around a central courtyard garden so he started to count how many times he could lap it, some days he would have company, some days he would count his laps alone. But every day his legs felt better, his head felt clearer, and his determination grew stronger.

 The more James recovered the more he realised how completely idiotic he had behaved. He had been using alcohol as a crutch, very nearly to the point of addiction, certainly doing his body a great deal more damage in the process. Looking back he was still not entirely sure if he would ever trust himself with alcohol again. 

The doctors here had explained to him that he had been in a great deal of shock and only able to see everything in short-term concepts. They used many more words and talked to him for hours about it but that was basically what days of therapy had told him. The therapy had helped, but James felt that time like nurse Vivienne had said, and his own attitude had helped so much more. And now that he was feeling better his attention shifted to the future.

The longer he stayed here and the better he started to feel, the itchier his feet became to be doing something, anything. The isolation from his usual routine, and his group of friends, was fast becoming the most difficult part. He needed a focus to help him recover. The trouble was in order to find a new direction he needed to be out of rehab, but they were unlikely to let him out until his mood improved. However, his mood was unlikely to improve until he was able to get out of this place. It was this kind of frustrating loop that made him want to tear his hair out, but that would make it even less likely for him to be allowed out of this place, even for a day. He needed a change of scenery, a new outlook. And he told his therapist as much the very next session he had.

'I understand your frustration but we can’t just let you go out there without making sure you aren’t going to immediately go back to trying to kill yourself.' Was her gentle response to him when he made a very reasonable request to go out.

'I was never suicidal.' he replied perhaps a bit more defensively than he had intended. It wasn’t exactly a lie, perhaps he had been depressed enough to think like that but he had never actually considered going through with it. 'Doc, I’m an active person, always have been, even as a small child my mother told me how unrelenting my energy was. I need to be active, especially now that the dizziness is mostly gone.'

''Ah, but there you said it. Mostly. Not completely.' James cupped his head in frustration gripping the roots of his hair and pressing his fingertips into his skull. 

'Can I at least have a day trip somewhere else? I am sick of staring at the same things day after day. I know how many steps it takes to do a loop around the courtyard. I know how many windows look out to the garden. I know exactly what George is going to say to each patient when he meets them.' the therapist seemed to consider this and looked thoughtfully down at her notes.

'There is a halfway house in Whitby, it has some lovely sea views and you can have a chance to stretch your legs and see how normal life fits. You will still be monitored there and have as much help and support as you need.' James grinned so widely it actually hurt his cheeks. 'But. she raised a finger sharply emphasising her point. 'No magic, that is still causing a lot of problems for you so best just leave it alone for now.' he nodded his head eager to agree with whatever restrictions she put down as long as she would let him out of this place. ' Also I can’t let you go on your own so you need to let me know who will be accompanying you?'

'Is there no staff there?' He asked, his inner bust of excitement deflating at this thought.

'There is, but it is not their job to take you shopping, or go to a restaurant. You know the normal things you would do. Consider it like going on holiday.' 

James considered his options as his therapist sat there with her gold pen poised to take the name he gave her. This was a very unfair way to do things. He was out of the loop and didn’t know if everyone was busy. He had put Lincoln through so much already he didn’t really feel like he wanted to impose himself on his best friend again. But, he was his best friend, pretty much the only person who had properly stuck by him and he knew him well enough that he would be offended if he wasn’t at least asked. 'Okay, I know who you have to call.'

*

The sea air of Whitby was as bracing as any place James had visited, it carried that fresh hint of salt and seaweed, with gusts strong enough to knock you sideways or help you along depending on the direction you and the wind were traveling, and he loved it. It almost felt like flying, almost. Being here with Lincoln was exactly what he had needed, a real chance for them both to put everything else behind them. 

James was still restless, and now that he could walk a good distance without needing a stick to help, his energy was back up to where it had been before his accident. As high as his energy was, unfortunately, his fitness was nowhere near that same level. Weeks of shuffling around a flat complex had done very little to improve this. He needed to build up his endurance, he needed to tackle some gradients. So he decided the best thing to do would be to go for a walk every morning.

Lincoln had been surprisingly happy to join him at the halfway house. James had felt so guilty calling him he had already done so much, but Lincoln explained it could be like a holiday for both of them. This helped to become another motivating factor for James. He refused to be a burden to his friend anymore.

There were plenty of places to walk and look around. Stepping outside the whitewashed building with bright blue painted windows and door, James looked along the street and saw so many carbon copies of it he hoped he would be able to find his way back. The whole town was beautiful, every small cottage and tall brick building looked immaculately well kept. They huddled closely together in perfect balance with the natural landscape. Nearly every other house has a seagull perched on top of it. James tried not to envy the way they glided on the ariels as they drifted out to sea.

“Let’s go down to the harbour and grab an ice cream?” Lincoln suggested pointing to their left where the gentle curve of the street showed the downward slope.

James glanced to his right and up to the clifftops, the steps leading up to it looked inviting, but deep down he knew he was not up for that just yet. The way down to the harbour was going to be a much more gentle walk, and everyone had kept telling him not to push it too much at first.

“Sounds good, why don't you lead the way?” James suggested. 

It was not a long walk but it still took them a bit of time. James’ legs were weak and he stubbornly refused to use his cane so hadn’t even bothered to bring it out of his room. He didn’t want to think about the walk back would be uphill. Although he would never admit it out of his own head he wished he had brought his cane. 

“Glad you’re looking a damn sight better than the last time I saw you. Still look like shit though James.” A familiar voice yelled to him from a bench overlooking the harbour. He smiled walking over to them feeling a little less tired. 

“Vivienne, so good to see you. I see your bedside manner is as lovely as ever. Are you here to check up on me?” He asked, taking a seat on the bench beside her trying his best not to appear as if he needed it.

“Just making sure you got here okay and that you are going to behave. I don't want all the good work we’ve done to disappear in a matter of days.”

“You sticking around then Viv? Or do you have more patients to spy on?” He leaned back on the bench stretching his legs out in front of him. The sun had just burst out from behind a cloud and James enjoyed the warmth of it against his face. 

“Actually I do have other patients James and I wanted to tell you, this will probably be the last time we meet. I’m glad to see you doing so much better. Keep this up and you’ll be running up the Whitby stairs in no time.” 

“Don’t tempt him, he can barely stand right now although he’s trying to hide it.” Lincoln chimed in with amusement. James was half tempted to leap up and prove to them both he could stand, thank you very much, but his heart was not in it, and his legs definitely weren’t. “Well, I for one am going to miss you, Viv, thanks for everything.” Lincoln offered his hand to help her up and they embraced for an uncomfortably long time in James’ opinion. Had something been going on between them while he wasn’t looking? Certainly, the look they gave each other when they separated spoke of a closeness beyond a simple friendship.

James accepted a smaller hug, embarrassed that she refused to let him stand up, but his legs were grateful. James was hit by a sudden feeling of loss as she walked away. She had been there for him when few others had. True it was her job, but he doubted how many of her patients she actually did check up on as much as she had him. 

“So you and Viv then?” James asked his friend nonchalantly. Lincoln sat down beside him and shrugged. 

“We connected, she’s a great listener and it was nice to have someone who understood, you know.” James did know, and felt extremely guilty about it once again. 

“I’ve put you through so much it’s not fair. I shouldn’t have dragged you here either.”

“Hey, it was my choice, and besides you're in no fit condition to drag anyone anywhere. This place looks nice I think it will be good for both of us”

“You know what Lincoln, I think you’re right.” James hoped it was true. He certainly was feeling so much better already, better for feeling like he was progressing and not just going round in a literal circle.

The first time he tackled the steps up to the clifftop he didn’t even make it a third of the way before he had to stop, catch his breath and steady his balance. He didn’t tell Lincoln he was feeling dizzy. He just grabbed the handrail and made like he was out of breath, which didn’t require much convincing because he was. Turning around and going back down had left like a defeat but he kept reminding himself. One step at a time.

Most mornings Lincoln came with him, complaining about his own lack of fitness and how out of shape he had also become. But by the end of two weeks, they were both able to tackle the whole way up to the cliffs without needing to pause. It was still hard going and took all of James’ energy, but the view alone was worth it, that and the pure clear fresh air that came swooping up the cliff face and hit you in the face as you looked out to sea. It was the agony and the ecstasy of feeling like he was flying again.

After those two weeks, the staff at the halfway house had assessed James as fit to return to his life, which had left James in equal measures pleased and terrified. Pleased he was able to go home, but also terrified about the fact there was nothing for him to do once he got there. No job, no sport, not even any family. He needed to find a new passion and find it quickly.

On their last night in Whitby, they had gone out to celebrate. Just a couple of drinks at the pub on the corner, they had said. James had decided not to drink but wanted to still go out and have a bit of normality with his friend. They had joined a table of locals and Lincoln had been drinking on James’ behalf and gotten himself totally plastered. It was a strange turn that night when it was James' turn to steady his wobbly friend and help him to bed.

The next morning James got up at the same time he pretty much had every day they had spent in Whitby and got ready for his last walk up those steps. He considered waking Lincoln but his friend was still snoring so loudly and drunkenly James didn’t feel like putting up with him complaining all the way this morning. He wanted to climb in peace and to feel the rush of the wind on his cheeks. One. Last. Time.

It was summer so the air was already beginning to warm as he made his way up the quiet streets. He considered this tiny fishing town and wondered what it would be like to live here permanently. He had grown rather fond of this little place, of its friendly people, and the impressive seascape. But it was definitely the clifftop he liked the most. If he stood in just the right spot the wind was strong enough to nearly blow him off his feet. It always reminded him of that moment just as he kicked himself off the ground.

The air was still today, hardly any breeze was blowing at all. James tried his best not to feel too disappointed as he looked over the clifftops. He spotted the longer grass was swirling more the closer you got to the edge. Without thinking he stepped over the safety fence.

'James!' He heard the call from behind him but he didn’t turn, he just stood there with the wind whipping his hair, filling his lungs, making him feel alive. He ignored the voice he just kept staring down at the frothy waves, letting the sounds of the sea soothe him as it had when he was a child.  It reminded him of the summer holidays with his mother. 'James! Get away from the edge, I don’t want you to fall.'

He didn't understand why they were so frantic, everything was fine. 'My mother loved the sea, we used to go to the beach every summer when I was a child,' he told them calmly. 'We would walk along the shore from one pier to the other just about every day. Our feet being chased by the waves, the bottom of my trousers would always get soaked, I never remembered to roll them up.' James staggered as a sudden strong gust of wind hit him. Making him look at his feet, he hadn’t noticed how close the edge actually was. How would it feel to just let himself slip?

'James!' Lincoln's voice took an unnatural high note, then he went on in a gentler tone, 'Stepback over here please buddy. My nerves can’t handle this. I thought you were doing fine. Whatever is bothering you, we can work it out. You have your whole life ahead of you. Don’t throw it away now that you have come so far.'

'But a life without quidditch? Perhaps even without magic?' It was the first time he had truly thought about that in some time. He had been pushing that aside and concentrating more on his health rather than looking back on what he was going to have to cope without. He turned around to look at his friend. 'What kind of a life is that?' His friend looked haggard and stressed. His shirt was only half-tucked into his jeans and his eyes were still showing the signs of the previous night. James wondered why he cared so much. They had lived together for years, played on the same quidditch team as students. They had drifted apart the last year before James got hurt, as James’ career had started to take off, and Lincoln had been traveling more for his job. But this was the guy, when all his other friends and teammates had left him lying in that hospital bed, Lincoln had come through for him. He didn’t know how he could ever pay back his friend.

'I know it’s going to be tough, there’s a lot to get used to. It’s your choice to stay away from quidditch, you could still be part of a team. I know not as a player but there are other opportunities. When we played together nobody trained as hard as you, and I don’t think that ever went away. When you became our captain you brought the rest of us up to your level. Do you remember that? I played the best I ever did when I played for you, it was your extra time you gave to each player that made us all better.' 

'You were young and eager, and you were good already. I only helped you see that.' James looked out over the cliffs once more. He had given so much to his sport. Throughout every stage of school Quidditch had always come first for him, he had pushed himself hard and expected his team to do the same, but had never thought that he was the reason why the others had improved.

'And how many other players out there could you help with that too? Stop putting yourself down. Stop wallowing in your self-pity. At least you got the chance to play and succeed at the highest level. Not everyone who wants to gets that chance.’ That was the moment James heard the bitterness in his friends voice for his own loss. He wasn’t the first person to have their career prematurely cut short. So many others who had shared his dream growing up never even got close. ‘You are better than this. You could be a great coach or manager?'

'I just don’t think I could go back to quidditch Linc, it’s just too painful. Watching as players experience what I never can again. Standing here letting the wind nearly knock me off my feet is the closest I have come to that feeling of flying on a broom. It’s never going to be the same for me, even if I recover enough to fly, I'm always going to know that my career was ended for me'

'If not quidditch then what about a different sport? My brother plays ice hockey, he’s on the British team.'

'Your brother the squib?' James turned away from the sea taking a step from the edge as he did so. Lincoln let out a very deep breath at his movement. 'I don’t know much about that game.' Lincoln managed a weak smirk at the remark about his brother. 

'It could be argued it is as brutal as quidditch, but their players are allowed to wear padding. They are looking for a fitness and conditioning coach, not a gameplay coach, so knowing about the sport is something you can pick up. I’ve met the head coach a few times. He's a great guy and an excellent former player. There is more to life than Quidditch James, and far more sports out there. I know you’ve noticed your balance has improved lately, especially since you’ve stopped drinking.'

'What could I teach a bunch of muggles?'

'I think you could surprise yourself'