Under my Skin [Sam]

Sam was still in the house, but the screaming as well as several of the other hands running up on the porch was enough to draw him outside at a run, but not before catching the gist of the situation and grabbing the pack of medical supplies kept inside for days like this. He wasn't a doctor, but he'd seen enough farm-related injuries and taken care of enough livestock to know how to on a basic level help this, as well as how quickly he had to work to save Jamie's life, he could bleed out frighteningly quickly if vital blood vessels were severed.

He pushed aside those already gathering around the tractor, harshly ordering them that if they weren't helping they needed to go elsewhere, giving a few orders for things to do or that he'd need.

Jamie was damn lucky he hadn't been killed already, and what he could glimpse of the blood and the arm made his stomach twist and he had to swallow down rising bile. He could be sick later, when Jamie wasn't still actively bleeding out.

HE worked quickly, freeing the young man, his arm just a mangled stump at this point, dripping and spurting blood. Sam quickly wrapped it up, putting pressure on it and trying not to listen to how much more the young man screamed with the added pressure and pain.

"Help me move him!" he ordered one of the others standing nearby, gesturing towards the workshop. They didn't have time to get a doctor, or do anything fancy. He'd have to piece it together, burn or stitch shut what he could, it wouldn't be pretty but it would hopefully mean he'd survive this.

Once inside the shop he did just that, moving quickly and working with grim-faced determination. The moments seemed to stretch for hours, but finally the steady flow of blood had been stemmed to just an oozing. Jamie was still alive for now...if the shock didn't kill him next.

When Sam arrived at the scene, Jamie's screaming had halted, and all he could manage was panicked, rapid panting and the occassional whimper. His eyes were wide and staring, straight ahead, refusing to look at his arm, refusing to acknowledge the horrific mangle that had been made of it. He couldn't help the scream that ripped through him when Sam started freeing his arm from the machine. He could feel every rip and tear of what was still attached by nerves and flesh and when he was finally separated, he looked over at the mess left behind and his breath hitched to a stop for what felt like thirty minutes.

He was forced to breath through another scream when Sam went to work wrapping his arm up, his eyes glued down to the bloodied stump where he knew his arm should be. Everything else seemed to move in slow motion, the whole world around him nothing but a blurry, muffled mess as he was moved.

The detachment that he felt from everything even when Sam began to piece what he could of his arm back together was panic inducing, and he thought back to all the bullshit he'd hear of out of body experiences before you died. Was this what was happening? Was he dying? He certainly felt the edges of his vision darkening, and getting darker, and eventually his head drooped down to his chest and he just became dead weight against Sam's chest.

---

He felt heavy and cold when he blinked open his eyes, groaning against the light headed feeling and the weight of his own tired body, "Uuuugh..." He whimpered, rubbing his hand over his face and through his hair, sure that he was waking up from some horrific dream. But he looked around confused for a moment as he realized he was in Sam's house, in one of the spare bedrooms, instead of his trailer.

And then he moved his other arm and realized something was horribly wrong. His eyes widened when he looked over the stump where his left arm had been, his breathing suddenly growing rapid and panicked, "Shit! Shit! Holy shit!" He let out a holler of alarm as he tried to scoot away from the thing attached to his own shoulder, "FUCK! Fuck!"

Almost immediately Jamie was greeted by hands holding him steady, a voice trying to soothe him, as his attention focused he'd recognize the doctor from town closest to him, Sam standing in the doorway behind him and watching with a worried expression.

"Don't struggle, you need to rest." The doctor was telling him. "You need to calm down, or you'll have to be sedated so you don't further injure yourself."

Sam also came closer. "Jamie, it's gonna be okay. You...had kinda an accident..." he tried to explain, both men trying to calm the panicking young man down, as the realization of what had happened to him was sinking in.

He jerked and flinched when he felt hands holding him, making a motion like he was about to suckerpunch whoever was doing it until he registered who it was and what was going on, "No no no...This isn't happening...This can't be happening..." He was still breathing rapidly as he stared wide eyed at the stump where his arm had been, tears filling his eyes as he was hit with about a million realizations all at once, "No I...No...Th-the machine wasn't on...It wasn't on..." He'd made sure the engine had been killed, same as he did every single time he worked on the damn thing.

He looked up at Sam when he came closer with wide eyed, "Sam..." The most horrifying part was realizing that someone had done this, somehow, "I know I killed the engine Sam...I-I wouldn't have stuck my fuckin' arm in there if I thought it was still running..." He gripped his hair with his one hand and hung his head, "what am I gonna do now...What fucking good am I gonna be now?!" How could he be any use to anyone if he couldn't do half the work around here?

"Hey, hey...easy." Sam came closer even as the doctor started preparing a sedative for Jamie, not enough to knock him out but calm him down at least, he was in no state to continue to panic like he was.

"I believe you...old equipment, it does stupid shit sometimes...it's not your fault." But that made the fault either his, for not replacing possibly malfunctioning equipment sooner...or someone was messing with it. But who would do something like that? Either option...he hated them both.

"We'll worry 'bout what happens later." He assured him. "You're not gonna get kicked out or anything, we'll figure it out." He promised. "Right now's not the time to talk about that though."

The doctor injected the sedative, Jamie should calm shortly although he would still be awake, at least for the time being.

He glimpsed the doctor preparing the sedative out of the corner of his eyes and his panic grew, "I-I don't wanna be put back under...I d-don't wanna go back under..." He glanced back at Sam, "I dunno...I did repair work on that thing just last week...It was working fine..." He felt sick at the implications of this, unable to imagine who might want to hurt him, to hurt anyone for that matter, "there was a wrench lodged in sticking the blades. That's why I reached in there..." This brought up new and terrifying ideas that he had no interest in thinking about.

He managed a relieved sigh when Sam assured him that he wouldn't be kicked out or gotten rid of, "Y-you mean it? You...Wont send me away?" He looked to the side, flinching a little when he felt the prick of the needle, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, "what good will I be like this..." He glanced over at the stump of his arm, slowly calming down now, "I'm gonna have to relearn to do...God...Everything..." And there were things he couldn't do anymore, "I'm...Really scared Sam..."

"It's not gonna put you under." Sam promised. "It'll just calm you down, make it hurt less." Jamie needed time to process what had happened, to come to terms with it, that wasn't going to happen if he was kept in a constant stupor.

He paused as Jamie explained what he'd found though. How would a wrench get up in the blades? It made no sense, even as an accident, which made it only more likely this had been done on purpose. Someone trying to break the machine but to what ends? Was this what they'd hoped for, or just trying to break the machine itself? Too many questions, not enough answers.

"Course i'm not gonna send you away." Sam honestly had no idea what he'd do with him like this, how it would work, what kind of work to keep him on the payroll he'd be able to do...and it would b a long time until he was able to do it. But Jamie was family, Jamie had worked hard, been through a lot, overcome a lot and finally found a place and people he could trust after a lifetime of feeling unwanted and like he had no one in his corner. Sam wasn't about to pull that rug out from under him, especially in a case like this when he was even more in need of people he could count on.

"You're family, Jamie. We'll figure it out." It was all he could promise at the moment, but he meant it.

He did feel more calm, there was still a fear in him as he tried to look forward to the future, tried to see what might become of him, he looked over at the stump of his arm with a sick expression on his face, looking at it made his stomach churn and he had to look away after a moment, "guess I could always do house work...I dunno how I'm ever gonna be able to work properly again this way..." He looked up at him, "most of the things I did needed two hands..." The thought of being resigned to being a house maid wasn't ideal, but at least he would be doing something to earn his keep.

He couldn't help a smile though when Sam assure him that he wouldn't send him away. He knew the fear was ridiculous, but it had still been there, "thank you Sam..." He looked up at him with a tired look on his face, "it was silly to think otherwise just..." He ran a hand through his hair, "I guess I'm still unlearning things..." His promise did wonders to calm the young man, and after a moment he settled back against the headboard, "how long am I stuck in bed? 'Cause like...This is gonna drive me mad..." He hated being idle for too long.

"Don't worry about it. Once you're well again, we'll figure something out." Sam just wanted him to relax, to try to rest for now and not worry about his future. Because it wasn't going to be an easy one going forward. Sam himself was trying not to think about it too much.

"You're probably going to be in bed for a while...but you'll probably find yourself glad for it...once it hits your body what's happening to it. You'll need that time to rest and recover, but you'll be able to get up around a little bit at least. Just don't feel like you have to rush it...and hey, you always liked having the chance to sleep in..." Sam tried to joke, but he didn't know it if came off all taht well.

"Do you need anything right now? Something I can get for you?" he asked.

He nodded, then took a deep breath to try and calm himself, laying his head back against the pillow with a soft chuckle, "easier said then done." He hated the idea of not being dependable anymore, of not being able to do things with Sam that they'd always done. But Sam was right, they would face that when it came, for now he was exhausted and rest sounded pretty good.

Jamie let out a heavy sigh and chuckled softly, settling back down in a more relaxed position, thankful for the sedatives and the gentle, light feeling they gave him, "well, I'll never say no to sleeping in." He gave the man a crooked smile, appreciating his attempts to lighten the mood regardless of everything, "Well...Since time travel ain't possible...My throat's dry as a bone so...Maybe a glass of water...I-if you don't mind..." It felt weird being brought things like this, especially by Sam, but the care from the man was also comforting, and reminded him why he stayed here.

===
There'd been a few times over the last few weeks that left Jamie feeling like maybe that machine should have killed him. Days where he ached and hurt, so much so that he couldn't even drag himself out of bed, and there were nights where he just stayed up laying there, feeling sick and horrified by what the doctor had described to him as a phantom limb. He was miserable, stuck inside doing housework, while also realizing that even that was nine times harder with only one hand, his anger had flared back up recently, and there was this little tickle of paranoia at the back of his skull as he pondered over the haunting thought that someone might have done this to him on purpose. Trust was everything to the young man, and his had taken a blow.

Right now he was doing the dishes piled up from dinner, it was starting to creep a little later into the night, and most everyone was outside finishing up the last of their work for the day. He wished he could be out there, between the pent up energy of being trapped in the house, and the frustration of trying to do dishes one handed, he was starting to feel it build up. There'd been a lot of things he hadn't told Sam, a lot of dark thoughts and feelings, because he didn't want the man to doubt him, he didn't want Sam to see him weak.

He gasped as his shitty grip on the plate he was cleaning faltered in his distracted thoughts and crashed on the floor, "FUCKING HELL!" He let out a frustrated shout, gripping the edge of the sink tight until the knuckles of his hand went white. This was the third plate he'd dropped recently, washing dishes was supposed to be so simple, but he couldn't even manage that. He felt tears well up in his eyes and choked out a frustrated sob, sinking his head down to the counter top and resting his other hand to grip his hair, he was so tired.

The shout drew Harriett down from upstairs, she had her own share of work around the house, and the errands she ran for Sam on a regular basis, but caught up on her work she'd retreated up to her room for a while. Shouting was enough to bring her out again though, and she peered over the railing down into the kitchen to see what was happening down there. It didn't take her long to figure out what had happened and she frowned a little, she didn't talk with Jamie all that much, but she knew he was a good kid, and what happened to him wasn't fair, and his adjustment period had been rough.

She hesitated a moment, not wanting to embarrass him with help, but at the same time not wanting to leave him to struggle and feel frustrated alone either. She made her way downstairs, grabbing a broom and starting to clean up the broken dish. glancing up at Jamie as she worked.

"Hey." She finally said quietly. "Hey, it's gonna be okay." It wasn't much..it wasn't really anything...but it was all she could offer at the moment...she didn't want to sound like she was talking down to him, spitting stupid platitudes which she knew he didn't want to hear.

He jumped a little when he heard the sound of someone beside him, and looked up, quickly wiping at his eyes before he went back to trying to wash the dishes. He knew Sam and Harriett had been stressed as hell lately, it was one of the main reasons he'd been trying not to let Sam see just how much he was struggling, he glanced over at her with a frown, "y-you don't have to...I-I mean I can...I broke it..." He stumbled through his words, looking shame faced, "Of course it's gonna be okay..." His mumbled words held no confidence in their truth, and he glanced down through the tears blurring his eyes, "I mean I'm fucking useless now but yeah...I'm okay..." He let out a sigh and looked over at her, "sorry...I'm just...Not okay..." He shut the water off and dried his hand.

"I think I'm supposed to feel lucky that I'm alive but...Sometimes I don't..." He ran a hand through his hair, "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know how to adapt to this shit." The shame on his face was clear as he kept it glued to the floor, "I can't even put my fuckin' pants on in the morning without a struggle...I feel so angry and frustrated and I just...Don't know what to do." After a moment of silence he sighed softly and shook his head, "sorry for dumping on you...I know you and Sam got your own shit to be dealing with." He turned back after a moment to start on the dishes again, looking incredibly crestfallen at how difficult this task was being.

"No, I don't have to. But I'm doing it anyway." She said, finishing cleaning up the dish, throwing the broken pieces away and putting the broom away next.

"No, of course you're not okay." She said, moving to take a seat at the kitchen table. "You're dealing with a lot...you're not supposed to just...be okay...with your life being wildly different now." She said bluntly.

She reached over, fiddling with the salt and pepper shakers left on the table, mostly to give her hands something to do, she'd never been good at having conversations face to face, without some kind of distraction.

"Yeah, sure. Like my shit's all that's happening right now...you're allowed to have yours too...no one faults you for that."

She didn't answer again for a bit, but finally looked up, still toying with the salt shaker. "Look. I'm not good at this kind of stuff, I don't have any great words of wisdom or anything for you...just...if you wanna be mad, be mad. I would be. Everything's different now and no one's expecting you to just...be all smiles and be 'yeah, I'm okay with this shit!'. Hell...we can take some of those dishes outside and just throw them at things if you want...I always hated those ugly dishes anyway." She admitted.