Showboat Alternate Ending 4: Part 1

This idea just occurred to me?

The way Bruce woke up in the hospital was the same as anyone ever did. Bright lights up above, white room surrounding, glints of silver from the machinery and tools near the bed. He was squinting and didn't sit up. Instead, he noticed all the the tubes attached to his arms.

In the room with him was a boy with black hair wearing a grey sweatshirt and some jeans. He had big, rubber boots on too, and was curled up in a chair near the corner of the room. Next to him was a woman sleeping on the couch. She was pretty.

Bruce had never seen those two before. The boy looked barely older than him, but the woman definitely looked to be at least a decade older. Besides, they weren't here in the room the last time he'd woken up. Last time, there were a group of nurses, and he'd overheard them deciding who'd tell him what his name was. There was no need for that today, since they'd done that yesterday.

Bruce sat up in bed, just now realizing how much broader his shoulders were, and how more muscular he was. He glared at his body type. Yesterday, he was a string bean. Now he was confused. He started to rip out the IVs in his arms and any other plastic thing connected to him. One of the machines went off.

"Shit..." he muttered, not bothering with it right now. He got out of bed and moved to the bathroom. Not noticing the woman blink groggily, he flicked the light on and turned to the mirror. "What the fuck?"

"Bruce?"

He whipped his head around toward her, but then went back to study his reflection again. He felt his face, and the tuff of hair on his chin. She got up to turn off the buzzers singing. She was smiling at him as she floated over to black-haired boy to wake him.

"Jack, Jack, he's awake," she said. The boy stretched out all his limbs, and rolled over in his seat. She rolled her eyes, then went to lean on the door frame. "Hey, buddy. How'ya feelin'?"

He didn't turn for her. She frowned. "If you're wondering what part of your head you hit, it was--"

"The tip right here," he pointed to it on his head, and it mimed in the mirror for her to see. "I already know."

"So you remember then?" she said, folding her arms with a warm smile.

"Yeah, they told me yest'ah'day," he said, feeling his neck. It was so thick. The idea of him being this jacked was frightening. Now it was the lady's turn to be confused.

"Told you yesterday?"

"Yeah."

"Bruce, you weren't awake yesterday."

Bruce laughed, and faced her, his own arms folded.

"What'da you know? You we'ah'n't even he'ah yest'ah'aday," he said.

"Yes, yes I was."

"No, you weren't," he said. "No one was he'ah in this room except f'ah me and some neh'ses."

The woman stared at him, covering her mouth. She looked sick, and like she'd received news of a death. Bruce just stared at her as she slid off of the door frame and back to the boy who was sleeping.

"Jack, Ja-Jack..." she shook him more violently.

"A couple more minutes, thanks..."

"Jack."

"Open your eyes, wake up, whatever, just listen to what he's saying," she said while she gestured for Bruce to come out of the bathroom. Jack opened his blue eyes, and a smile unraveled across his face.

"Bruce, good to see you're--"

"Wait," she said. "Bruce, say what happened to you yesterday."

"I woke up surrounded by all these cute neh'ses, and one of 'em told me what I hit my head."

Jack's smile grew into this disturbed, frantic look. His hands were clutching to the armrests of the chair now. "What? Why ah you two bein' wee'd?"

"Because that didn't yesterday," Jack said. "Bruce, you've been in a coma for a week. You hit your head."

"That's not what them neh'ses said."

"That's because," Jack had to pause to sigh and rub the stress out of his hands.

"Because what?"

"Go... go look at yourself in the mirror," Jack said. Bruce folded his arms.

"I already did."

"And?" Jack asked. Both sets of eyes were on Bruce.

"It's... it's my face, but not my face," he shrugged. Jack closed his eyes.

"Why isn't it your face?"

"Because I don't rememba having a jaw this wide, and I sho'wa as hell nev'ah had facial ha'ah, or these lines unda my eyes." He stepped back into the bathroom to look at himself for a little bit. "That's not it eitha. My ah'ms ah about 10 times bigga than they we'ah yest'ah'day, and the same goes f'ah my neck."

"Bruce, how old are you?" Jack finally asked.

"The neh'se said I was about 16?" He ran his hand through his hair. The silence that followed made the air a bit stiff. When Bruce peeked out of the door, he saw the woman head hanging, and the boy's eyes focusing on something to zone out with. "What? Why do ya need to know this? Who the hell ah you people anyway?"

She had to leave the room. Jack smiled kindly at him.  

"Do you want me to tell you what's going on?"

Bruce opened his mouth to reply, but didn't say anything. Jack kept his grin on, and waited for a reply. "Do you remember anything before yesterday?"

Bruce glanced in a different direction, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"No."

"It's alright," Jack said, and patted the armrest of the couch next to him. "Sit down, there's a lot you need to know."