Kobe!
The coma that Jonas was in wasn’t a natural one. It was a magically induced one to keep him from suffering through the pain of the reconstruction of his body from a heap of mauled flesh and broken bones. Dozens of charms had been used on him to hold his broken pieces in place, to help him breathe, and a host of other remedies that were medically required to bring him back from near-death. There was an IV in his arm so that he could receive fluids and tonics straight into his bloodstream. It chilled his body, so blankets were tucked neatly over him as he lied, there, in the hospital bed in his ward.

He looked pale but comfortable. The gashes and scrapes on his face and body had almost healed entirely and most of his bones had been repaired or re-grown to fuse together. His hair was still messy and a crucifix hung around his neck, over his hospital robe. The nurses and healers bustled around him day after day as they waited for him to show signs of being on the mend, but there hadn’t been much good to report thus far.

Jonas was also peacefully unaware of the other hoopla that had been generated around him. His family and friends were gathered in the waiting room as they worried themselves and tried to comfort his poor wife and mother, who had been hysterics ever since laying eyes on his battered form. If he knew of the drama he was creating, it would terribly upset him, but a coma was oblivion.

On the twelfth day of his hospital stay, Jonas’s healers made the decision to release him from his coma. He didn’t awake right away, so his family wasn’t alerted, but eventually, he groggily roused out of his deep slumber. The world was a blur as he slowly flapped his eyelids and his hearing was foggy. He tried to raise a hand to wipe at his eyes, but found that to be terribly painful. He would have yelped, but the coma had taken his voice, too, and it came out as a dry murmur as he laid his heavily bruised hand back to the blankets.

Jonas continued to blink in his dazed state as he watched a nurse come toward him and after checking his vitals, lift a small cup to his lips. The water dribbled down Jonas’s front as he tried to drink, finding it difficult to do when one could use his hands and had a shaky jaw, but the water was like heaven on his throat. Clearing it, he suddenly found a low, croaky tone.

“My wife,” Jonas said as the nurse dried his chin. “Where’s my wife?” And why, in the name of Zeus, was he in this place?