6. "Restored"

Oh Scarecrow

We have reached the end of this story, I hope you have enjoyed it! I would love to hear your feedback; critiques and advice on how I can improve my writing style would be wonderful!

I could not help but add a bit of my favorite pairing into this…and you'll see what I mean if you finish this chapter :) Also, if you thought this was a Jagan fanfic, it was not meant as a Jagan slash, it is rated M because of the violence involved and because it was written as a James and Logan friendship story-labled purposely in this manner because James interacts with Logan the most out of any other character. If you are displeased,I am sorry but in my mind I have labled this correctly.

I hope you'll also join me for my upcoming stories! Thank you so much for your support!

In one final note, this fanfiction was inspired by the story of Matthew Shepard. I would like to think that this story could possibly inspire us all to stand up for what is right and to do our best to prevent bullying in our schools, community and homes. Everyone deserves to be treated with respect and love no matter their privilege, race, religion, gender, disability or opinions. The sooner we realize this, the sooner we can live in peace with one another.

Love always hopes, always trusts, and will always persevere…Love does not fail.

Blinking into a sheet of white, a world of nothingness emerged, pure and clean. Somehow, this was not how he imagined heaven would appear. Creaking a swollen eye open, James fully awakened, realizing that he was not alone.

The forms of his sleeping friends, including Mrs. Knight, Kelly and even Gustavo, were sprawled about the cramped hospital room. Kendall was seated in a steel chair leaning up against a cross-hatched plastered wall, his mother softly resting her head on her son's shoulder. Gustavo lay across the room, slouched on the ground closest to the door. A cellphone was grasped loosely in his pudgy hand, the oily keypad appearing as if it has been quite overused in the past twenty four hours.

Kelly, Logan and Carlos were sharing a couch near to where the injured patient was stationed. Carlos sat sideways, stout legs hanging over the armchair, his back reclined heavily onto Logan who slumped backwards, his tilted head supported by the wall. Kelly remained in a position alike that of Mrs. Knight, using Logan's shoulder as a pillow.

Dazedly, James gazed downwards to examine his own bed and the state of his lingering corpse. A gruesome disturbance was promptly avoided as his breath hitched slightly in surprise, astonished to find a petite head cushioned on his crisp bed sheets, her chocolate brown curls fanning out, hiding her smooth cheeks with a curtain of hair.

There lay the youngest member of the Knight household sleeping besides his bed, her forearms folded on the edge of the mattress, the rest of her slender form kneeling below. One hand gently encased his own.

A warm smile escaped from behind his cracked lips; inwardly knowing that his assumption had been correct-Katie must have had a crush on him all along. Etching a mental note into his already frazzled and dizzy mind, James decided to let it go and not tease her about holding his hand when she woke up.

The thought was encouraging, pleasant to enjoy the compassion and serious concern emanating from the kid-sister of one of his best friends. Squeezing her palm only a smidgeon tighter, he sighed, tilting his head back in order to gaze up at the ceiling of his room.

Before he knew it, his drowsy eyelids had closed and he was reliving his nightmare all over again. A high pitched beeping of a machine chirped close by, warning that his heart rate had fluctuated above the set limit of zone four and if James continued to allow his reflections to overwhelm his fragmented sanity, a medical practitioner would arrive out of unnecessary protocol.

Wearily James forced his eyes open, satisfied with banishing his harsh reality away at the expense of his exhausted cornea. Breathing a sigh mixed with contempt and relief, James once again sent a silent prayer skyrocketing through the universe, understanding that it had only been by the grace of God that he had been rescued by that lone bicyclist who had conveniently happened to take a detour on his journey that fateful morning.

Deviating away from his train of thought, golden irises flicked to a mahogany end table and a manila envelope situated upon a brass cork stand. His eyes widened as they scanned his name scrawled in a hastily written font.

Painfully lifting a bandaged arm, James reached for the letter. Gasping at the red hot pain that shot through his aching ribcage, he settled uncomfortably back into disproportionately stuffed pillows caved in by the weight of his upper torso.

Sliding a weathered thumbnail under the saliva-slicken slit, the letter opened. Joy alit his soul, the flamboyant emotion flowing through him with the discovery of the identity of the letter's issuer. Carefully studying each word that was indeed from his angelic savior, James seemed to clutch to the brief note for dear life,

"Dear James,

I'm sorry I could not stay to see your recovery; you know how tournaments are with deadlines and all that. Anyways, I'm so glad I pulled off to the side of the road that day. Well, I am a little put out because I only have a few days to get my bike repaired before my race next Saturday but I think that a popped tire is a small price to pay. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to find you.

You're probably wondering what happened and why you woke up here. To make a long story short, you passed out shortly after I got you down from that pole. I peddled as fast as I could, faster than I've ever raced in my life actually! It was difficult but I managed to find a hospital. After they finally agreed to see you, I told the staff as much as I knew about you, which was slim to none besides your name.

I'm glad you have good friends James. Because of their hard work, the police were able to identify you as the pop star who had gone missing a few days ago. I had no clue you were famous! Shows you how much I know, huh? Maybe I should pay more attention to celebrity gossip. Who knows when I'll have to save you again?"

A brief glimpse of the smiling blue-eyed man appeared, his lightly tanned face creasing about the corners of his mouth in a stream of chuckles that once again returned to a serious grimace,

"Either way, I hope you're doing well and continue to heal. Don't let this set back prevent you from achieving your dreams. I know you can do it, have no fear. It'll be hard but things will get better, I just know they will. I'll be rooting for you. And you know what, I'll even buy that silly CD of yours, how's that? Wishing you all the best.

Your friend, Michael."

Folding the letter slowly, James placed the precious manuscript within the broken beige covering. Tired hands lowered, allowing the letter to rest atop his chest connected to multiple tubes hooked up to various complicated machines. Fingers dotted by dozens of band-aids, ever so obstructed by gauze draping his battered forearms, clenched the note nonchantly however unwilling to let the last fragment of his mysterious companion to escape his grasp.

Shifting to find a more comfortable position, James caught himself in the middle of a yawn. Glancing around at his collapsed friends, he noted that they would not be breaching consciousness any time soon. A doctor or nurse would not be making their rounds in his wing of the vacinity either for his monitors all revealed a steady heart rate, stable mental functions and a patient in no eminent danger despite punctured limbs and the fragile condition of his organs refusing to absorb vital fluids pumping through the clear cords trailing from a dangling IV bag.

Instead of growing impatient and feisty, James resolutely shut his hazel irises yet again. However a contemplative sigh did not grace his chapped, bleeding lips but chose to stretch into a wide smile. Inhaling deeply the scent of Citrus Pine-Sol and the pungent detoxification of bacteria, the lanky brunette's joy slipped into a visible display across his entire face.

Time heals all. And with the love and support of his friends, James's anxious heart became assured that he would eventually recover from the trauma inflicted upon his young and weary soul and in the far off and distant future, someday he would be enabled to pursue his dreams.

A dark fluttering of lashes allowed honey-tinged orbs to awake into glorious daylight. Eyes of hope and determination peered out the dusty shutters of the hospital window pane, gazing triumphantly towards the start of a new day and the favor awaiting the living scarecrow.