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When the cops ask him later, in his too stark white hospital room (lights blinding his eyes and can you please turn them down officer) Ben and Kristen not even pretending not to hover by the door, David tells them his memory after Sonia shot Lando (shot the man point blank range right in front of him, right in front of him, and called it justice and the worst part is he just isn’t sure--) is perfect, perfect. This is a lie.
“I’m turning myself in. I’ll call you an ambulance.” She said and god help him how can you beg a murderer (an avenging angel?) for mercy? How can you explain to her (to anyone, to anyone) that you would rather walk on your maybe-broken ankle and try and fail to sew your burst stitches up yourself than live through the last weeks again.
Logically, he knows Bloch is gone, gone to ground, gone wherever the sixty goes when they are not making wreckage out of human lives. Ben made sure of this, for him. Tracking every online trace of her til they all disappeared into the smoke and ash of digital nonexistence. (He hopes. He hopes she was one of the sixty. He hopes she was a demon made flesh because the alternative, the more likely option, turns his stomach and he will not think it, will not think it--and his mind once again turns back to his father and Annie Commerce and weights to carry and his stomach heaves again.) Logically he knows Bloch is gone and still, his mind sinks deep into the fuzzy waters of panic the minute the EMT outside Sonia Karmanzi’s house puts a needle in his arm, and he does not resurface until he hears Kristen and Ben at his bedside, hushed, concerned.
He tries to speak and the words fail on his tongue and he would love to blame it on the drugs but he is pretty sure he half-remembers refusing any pain medication from anyone dressed in anything close to medical garb and god that’s been a while, since his mind was so scattered that he could not put his words in orderly form. Ben takes pity--but no, because it’s Ben and Ben is a lot of things to David but he is never piteous, so Ben takes mercy on him and explains he’s at the same hospital as Kristen’s daughter, that not to worry about that Laura is fine, a miracle the doctors said and David half-wonders if being delivered to the two people in this whole sick and sorry world that somewhat understand him is part of that miracle too and then he finds his words and uses them:
“You should go to her.” He says because it’s true and because he cannot bear to have Kristen have to take care of him when her family needs her.
“We’ll be here all week, it’s no trouble. And anyhow, her father is with her.” And there is a hardness in her eyes that David does not dare question.
“And we are not going to leave you alone a minute this time around. Learned our lesson.” Ben continues, trying to keep levity in his voice but the feeling in his eyes betray him. David cannot bear to look in his eyes.
“You don’t have to do that--” David begins and they both just Look at him, and he can’t help but smile to himself a little at that, relax a little but not much.
“And Doctor Bouchard here pulled some strings for you.” Ben continues and oh does Kristen look ashamed-- but before he can puzzle that out here comes the doctor and the nurse and he tenses on newly learned instinct, even though they aren’t Bloch, can’t be Bloch, they look nothing like her, the doctor a short and steady Black woman in 50s, the nurse bearing a striking resemblance to Julia (and Kristen didn’t know--how could she, that Julia wanted to be a nurse--wanted to help people--) and introductions and he should probably pay attention--
“Hello,” The doctor is saying “I’m Dr. Randly, I taught Kristen before she switched to psychology” and oh that is new information to be filed away for later--
“And I’m Nurse Michelle” the nurse is saying, “I used to work up in pediatrics but I switched last year, I’ve known your sister in law a long time. She explained everything, I’ll make sure you’ve only got staff you feel personally comfortable with working with you.” And he nods, says thank you, and thank Kristen, for always knowing what he needs, even when he cannot say it but also--
They leave, and he can speak freely. “Sister in law?” He asks.
“We needed visitation rights. You’re married to my nonexistent sister.”
“And Ben?”
“He’s my adopted brother.” And David laughs, he can’t help it. Perfect sharp and clever Kristen, perfect kind and steady Ben. “And I didn’t tell her everything, just that you had a recent personal trauma with overtly racist medical personnel and that could be a potential obstacle in providing you proper care. And since I know these people, they listened.” Kristen continues in her see-I-am-not-breaking-any-rules voice and oh were David not training to be a priest--but he is. So he drops that line of thinking.
“Doc said you can go home tomorrow but she wants to keep you for observation, one of us will be here the entire time, we promise. I am not leaving you this time, David.” Ben says and oh--that is not about the hospital, not really, It’s about Sonia and Lando and the rest of it and David wants to say “I forgive you” and “It’s not your fault” but knows Ben, knows he prefers action to words, and instead offers his hand. Ben takes it, and David squeezes it, gentle, and that is just as good. The meaning is in it, at least.
“We don’t have to stay--if you’re uncomfortable or we’re overstepping--” Kristen says, always hedging.
“No. Please stay. I need--” And he can’t finish that statement, doesn’t even know where it’s going, and this time Kristen rescues him.
“Then we stay.”
And Ben: “You are family, after all.” with a wry grin at Kristen and they all laugh at that. David relaxes a little more.
Family, he thinks, and holds that word in his mind. Later there will be police officers and questionnaires and bishops and paperwork but now--now David is here, with a certain kind of family, and he is laughing.