Saturday, January 7th, 2017
Staring up at the wall of sandstone looming overhead, Julien didn't let it impose on him in the slightest. The morning sun warmed him, letting him dress light even in mid-winter, all his gear fit just right for a change and the pleasant clinking noise of all the gear hanging off the harness followed as he strolled along. He'd finished the coffee he made himself on the way here too, just because he wanted to. He hadn't quite gone solo like this before, even if he had a good idea of what to do, so of course he had been certain to get a good night's sleep.
All in all, it was a wonderful morning.
The rope hanging down from between his legs was a little awkward, but Julien could live with it. He dusted the tips of his fingers and thumbs with chalk and then started the climb; he soon had the rhythm of it all come to him. Every few metres when he hit a knot in the rope, pull it undone with his teeth, slip something into the rock where he needed to, clip it in and keep ascending. Simple as that, really. Hell, getting all his gear back out on the descent would be the hard part.
When he took the time to stop and shake the aching out of his limbs before it could get too bad, he looked behind him to enjoy the view, a hand shielding his eyes from the glaring sun in his face. It only got better and better each time he did.
Julien reached... about sixty feet up the route when his mind began to wander off to other things. Like the name of this route. Someone must have hit their head too damn hard because this was Tennessee, not Kentucky, and a climb that made him dig his fingers into places where they had no right fitting deserved better than a bad pun about KFC.
Soon he felt the strain beginning to creep in underneath his skin again and braced himself to rest a little more.
He looked out at the horizon again, and found it all he always hoped it to be when he got this high. Now, though, he took the time to direct that appreciation a little more inwardly. If he'd been asked whether he could do anything like this a few years ago, Julien was certain the answer would have been a resounding no, seeing as he wouldn't even have gotten his own height off the ground. For a little while, he wondered if that made him twelve times the person he used to be or not, but that idea got the boot as quickly as it came along. Looking down on the person that he was didn't do anything for him, seeing as he wouldn't be where he was right now without them.
Moment of reflection done with, he looked back to resume the climb and—he could have sworn he felt something shift just then.
...
No, it was nothing.
...
Julien came down fast enough that he didn't even scream as the things he trusted to keep him going fell from beneath him. He didn't get the chance to try and shield himself or move out of the way of the jutting rock which rose to meet him either, fitting clean beneath the lip of his helmet. All the better for him, since it would have crushed his eye. Not that he was left in any state to appreciate that.
He felt like his nose was itchy.
The painkillers they had him jumped on had left him blissfully numbed to the pain that would probably tear its way through his head, and he didn't feel like making the effort to talk to anyone else, so all he was left to focus on was that itch he couldn't scratch because they'd told him his face needed to be left alone until it could heal more.
Much as he wanted not to, he'd gone along with it so far. He didn't want a crooked nose. But it wouldn't go away no matter how hard he didn't think about it and the whole thing was making him start to reconsider whether it'd really be so bad. If he was careful enough, he could get it without messing anything up. Maybe. Probably.
As he sighed in resignation, closing his eyes to try and fall into dreamless rest again, another carriage hooked onto the train.
It could have just the painkillers taking the edge off, but there wasn't any fear in him. If he had to pick anything out right now, it'd be frustration, at that nagging feeling that had only just surfaced from the depths of his rattled brain again of knowing he'd made some sort of mistake but not knowing exactly what it was. Was there a word for that? Eh, whatever. The feeling in his heart when he tried to think up an image of the wall he'd rose to met was more important; Julien felt like he could see a hint of something else wedged in there, but he was too addled to manage it.
So he settled for trying to fall asleep again. And again, he was denied, but at least he wasn't the one doing it this time.
"Julien?"
He opened his eyes again, looking at his parents as they made their way over. His dad looked like he'd actually hurried somewhere for the first time in his life. Mom, too, since her clothes weren't all ironed out for once and she was wringing her hands. The sight of them still managed to put a smile on his face, stressed out as they obviously were.
"Took you long enough..."
"God, your face... are you alright?" The concern in her voice was audible as she stood at the end of the hospital bed they'd stuck him in, still wringing her hands and looking like she was too concerned to hug him as she clearly wanted.
He thought that was a silly question at first, but of course she'd ask it. When they'd brought him here they'd used some fancy words about how there were still things to worry about. Julien liked it better when all he needed to worry about was scrapes on his hands, the rock digging into his fingers and leaving its mark.
"How are you feeling? We can—"
"Claire, we both know he's better off here than at home right now." Fortunately his father was always the voice of reason at those times it eluded her. He was clearly uneasy enough that it couldn't be mistaken for lack of care, but of the two he was still more composed. It almost made Julien wonder how he managed it now of all times.
"But..." Her voice tapered off to silence, because she realised that he was right.
Home. He really did just want to be home with them right now, not having his face poked at by roving hands he couldn't even feel against his skin and cold metal, or examined by some dumb machine so they could tell him exactly how badly he'd busted himself up, but it dawned on him that maybe they would want to keep him there as well. Julien couldn't stand the thought of that. Feeling confined in a place where he should have enjoyed spending his time, warmth slowly dying day after day until he thought he might go insane if he had to see it all even one more time, all because of something he'd only started doing to get away from that place so maybe he could learn to love it again?
No... no, that wouldn't do. He'd found his answer now.
"They told me I was a mess before they got me in the ambulance. Kept throwing up and trying to curl into a ball. So... I'm annoyed I wasted good coffee, I guess?"
There was a strangely ambivalent look on her face just before she turned around and left, not saying another word to him.
A few moments of silence passed.
"Of all—"
"Dad. I won't... I can't let this stop me, whatever you might think. It must hurt seeing me like this," Julien paused to breathe, "but it's going to be so much worse, for all of us, if I stay locked up in that room and waste away."
"You—"
"Please."
His father wasn't the sort to throw his hands up in disbelief, but Julien felt like he wanted to. After a brief few seconds that stretched into forever, he left too, evidently going to find mom and let her vent about all the things she needed to say.
And so Julien was left alone again. He didn't want to sleep any more.