Chapter Text
He was finally free and officially an outpatient! Two whole months he had been stuck in the Hospital.
Surgery after surgery, infection and more surgery.
In the end, they had reluctantly agreed that he could switch to just oral antibiotics to kick the last of the lingering infection and they set him free.
His Mother had threatened to hire the Judo Nurse again, but he reminded her that he had got past her in less than an hour last time so why bother and to leave him be to actually heal in peace.
Heal was a relative word.
His arm and hand would never be the same again. The world class orthopaedic surgeon his Mother found from somewhere out of state, he was too out of it on pain meds when she had told him about the Doctor's credentials and where they hailed from to remember, had told him he should be very thankful that he still had his arm. Usually an injury as extensive as his would have seen amputation as the only option. They had managed to save his arm and it was functional.
Well functional was also a relative word he had learned.
At this point he could use it to hold stuff down and pick up big, lightweight stuff, but anything requiring fine motor skills or strength was completely beyond him. It meant he had to relearn to write with his left hand and pretty much switch to his left being his dominant hand entirely. He had managed to get to the point where he could raise his wrist up and down and side to side to some extent, which the Occupational Therapist had been super excited about, but really that was it.
The nerves to his fingers were in taters and the sensation in his hand was screwed to hell. Most of the time it felt like it was burning or being attacked by fire ants. Not that he had experience with that, but it’s what he imagined it would feel like. They told him that once the infection that had ravaged the back of hand and forearm was fully healed and the remaining inflammation gone, that it would either fade to a tolerable level or disappear completely.
They didn’t know which.
Currently he was on that much extra medication to block the pain so he could get the little sleep that he usually managed, it was ridiculous. They had spoken with him about what his options might be if the pain didn’t reduce when the inflammation was gone, but he hadn’t really been listening, figuring he would be told again if it all failed. He was hoping he wouldn’t need to get them to repeat themselves.
He had gotten into the habit of wearing soft clothing with pockets so he could keep his hand from being knocked, but also hide away the mangled mess that was left. The wounds on the back of his hand were still healing and the one on his palm was still oozing from time to time and needed twice weekly dressing. They had taken his little finger when the infection took hold and they just couldn’t maintain the blood flow enough for it to have a chance of healing. Thankfully he had been in and out of consciousness when that was happening.
Dani had told him a lot of what had happened while he was spaced out on pain meds and battling infections and it didn’t sound the least bit pleasant. He had apologised to her that she had to watch him go through that. Unfortunately that had been completely the wrong thing to say as she had broken down and cried on his shoulder for an hour straight. At his suggestion she was seeing a therapist about what she had gone through with the accident and to help her understand it wasn’t her fault in any way. It seemed to be helping as she was more relaxed around him of late and didn’t get lost in her head as much as she did in the first weeks that he was awake and aware. As much as the accident had been a horrific experience and his life would never be the same because of it, it wasn’t all bad changes. It had forced him and Dani to really consider what their relationship was and whether it was truly more than friends. At this moment, it was and they were tentatively seeing where it would lead them. They were both still broken people and probably more so with the accident but they were broken pieces that seemed to fit together well, with not too many jagged edges bumping up against each other.
The first couple of hours he had spent at home in the loft the evening before, he had been admiring the subtle bit of Christmas that his Mother and Dani had incorporated into his home space.
Dani knew he wasn’t a huge fan of Christmas. He wasn’t a Grinch by any means, but it was all a bit too happy and festive most of the time. Dani had clearly contained his Mother’s excitement for his Christmas homecoming and had kept the decorating low key.
A pretty little Christmas wreath attached to Sunshine’s cage. Simple velvet bows added to the second floor staircase rungs. Small enough that they didn’t stick out, but enough colour and festivity to make it feel like Christmas. Actually his favourite was the tiny fairy lights highlighting his weapons cases with tiny sprigs of mistletoe in the centre top of each cabinet. He would never tell them how much he liked the decorations or next year they may not be able to stop his Mother filling the loft with Christmas.
This morning he was still feeling feverish and lightheaded from the infection and medication. He may have been stretching the truth a little when they had asked him how he was feeling, but he didn’t have a temperature when they checked and the lightheadedness only came when he stood up too fast, which really was a normal enough day for him to not see it as an issue. His hand was no more painful than normal, well his palm was bothering him a bit more today, but he had been working on trying to make a fist the day before, so figured it was muscle strain and nothing more. It was really difficult to tell these days what sort of pain he was actually feeling. Everything was jumbled up and when a spot on his under arm hurt, it could be that he knocked his thumb.
Refracted pain was weird and disconcerting.
Anyway, it’s not like he signed out AMA, for once he was actually discharged as recommended. It may have been easier to convince them to agree to discharge with Christmas bed pressure looming, but he reasoned they wouldn’t have agreed if he wasn’t actually ready.
Dani had said she would come by during her lunch break to check on him. He was excited to see her. It had been a couple of days since they had seen each other as Major Crimes had caught a big case. She wouldn’t tell him anything about it and he was desperate to try and get some details from her. He knew it was pretty much an impossible task, but he was always up for a challenge. Though if he was honest, he probably wouldn’t be much help. His mind was still hard to focus and it was like working through a fog trying to link his thoughts at times with the combination of fevers and painkillers. Well he hoped that’s all it was, they had said there was a chance of cognitive changes as they weren’t sure if he’s brain had been starved for oxygen during the long fight to stop him bleeding out and keeping blood flow to his hand and fingers. He had been told there were many touch and go moments and quite a few times they didn’t think he would make it. He tried not to think about it too much most days, the what ifs?
...what if he couldn’t puzzle out the impossible connections anymore?
It was a fundamental part of who he was and he wasn’t sure who he would be without that ability, what his purpose and place would be anymore.
How would he keep the demons away if he couldn’t keep his mind focussed on solving the unsolvable?
He pushed himself up off the side of the bed where he had been sitting, tucking his right hand in his hoodie pocket. He had to take a moment to steady himself against the edge of the bed as a wave of dizziness hit him as he stood. It took a moment for his vision to steady and his body flushed with heat as he blinked back the swirling scene of his living room.
“Right, slow to stand, got it,” Malcolm chided himself as he took a few wobbling steps towards his breakfast counter, figuring he should take his morning medication before he forgot.
He knew he should eat with his meds, but with the lightedness and the lingering feverish feeling, his usually poor appetite was non-existent. He grinned to himself as he spied his favourite red licorice on the counter and grabbed a few sticks to chew on before he downed his meds, which now took up a considerably larger space on his bench top.
His first task of the day down, he looked about his loft, thinking about what he could do to keep himself occupied until Dani arrived. He looked over his bookcases and decided that today was a good enough day as any to reorganise it as he had been meaning to for some time now. He wanted to categorise it by type, then author and publication date. It was something he could do without help and wouldn’t be too taxing on his body or mind, but challenging enough to help push away the cobwebs still clinging in his thoughts.
Mind set, he got started. Firstly pulling out all his books on forensic psychology and then setting to work to order them firstly by author and by publication and edition.
It was harder than he first thought it would be.
He struggled to focus on the task, getting caught up flipping through his favourites and forgetting what the publication date of the one he had just organised was as he got caught up in the next. He also found that he was getting fatigued quickly, his left arm sore from lifting the heavy books from his shelves and flipping through them all one handed. When he accidentally knocked his right hand with the spine of the first edition copy of his first ever book purchase out of Quantico, and sent fiery sparks racing across his hand and up into his shoulder, he figured it was time for a break. He checked the time and realised he had been at it for hours and was overdue for his next dose of medication, not to mention Dani would be here soon and he wanted to make them something to share for lunch.
Bracing himself with his left hand to the floor, he got himself to his knees, his vision spinning and nausea curling heavily in his belly as he did. Swallowing the sudden rush of saliva in his mouth, he breathed out a steady rhythm until the queasy rolling of his stomach settled and the greying of his vision stopped.
“Slow, real slow, I got this,” Malcolm coached himself as he brought up his right knee to plant his foot on the floor, careful not to squash his arm as he did so. He had learnt that lesson the hard way the first time he had ever tried to get up off the floor post injury...not a good day at all.
Steeling himself he pushed up, staggering as he made it to his feet, his world tilting alarmingly on it’s axis. He instinctively went to reach for the nearest solid object. Of course it was on his right side, which meant he wrenched his arm as it caught on his hoodie pocket as he tried to fling his arm out for support. Pain and sorching, electric fire ran across his arm, an involuntary scream tearing from his throat as he staggered and bent into the pain. His shoulder collided with his bookcase, sending more pain screaming down his arm as it bent awkwardly in it’s confines.
“Fuck,” Malcolm cried as he tried to keep his feet under him. His vision grey at the edges as his arm pulsed in agony and his legs trembled under him. He slumped against the bookcase, his shoulder twinging as he put his weight on it, adding to his overall misery.
“Gah, that was a colossially stupid idea,” Malcolm panted with a grimace. His left hand lightly braced his right elbow. Touching it really didn’t help as it just set his damaged nerves firing off again, but had to do something to give himself the illusion of containing the agony ricocheting through his arm.
With his strength waning fast, he looked to his couch. Six feet, he could make six feet...surely. He was better dammit, he could do this.
So he locked his knees and straightened himself up and with a few fortifying deep breaths launched himself with a stagger across his living room.
Three feet...that’s all his body decided that it had in it. It clearly had enough for the day and if he wasn’t going to listen, it would make him.
His vision tunnelled, black fading the edges as he tried to push himself faster across the small space. All that achieved was his feet tripping over themselves and him going down in a heap on the floor. The instant spike of pain as his arm and hand were crushed between him the hardward floor, was the last thing he felt as his cheek collided with the floor and his vision whited out in a starburst and he was gone.
~*~Repercussions~*~
Dani tapped her fingers nervously against her Jean clad leg as she waited on the side walk for Malcolm to answer the buzzer. She had pressed it twice now after waiting five minutes in between presses. He might have just been in the bathroom. Everything took him longer these days as he adjusted to life with one functional arm. Guilt flared and she had to close her eyes and breath through the bubble of panic that always come with it.
It was an accident, she hadn’t purposely hurt him, she never would. It wasn’t her fault.
It was mantra that she needed to tell herself daily to stop herself spirally into depressive thoughts of ruining the life of the person who meant so much to her. That was when Malcolm’s soothing voice would come in and tell her his life wasn’t ruined, just changed and some of the changes he really liked.
Dani smiled, as she remembered his soft smile as he said it to her the first time his good hand holding hers, as they sat and talked at his beside after they had realised that there was more to them than just work partners or friends. Something tentative, but exciting, something both of them needed to help them through this nightmare.
Nodding to herself she pressed the buzzer again and leaned out to look up at the loft window. She knew it was pointless as she wouldn’t be able to actually see him, but not being able to help herself in her need to check he was ok.
After another few anxious minutes, she slipped her hand into her bag and pulled out the emergency key his Mother had given her. She hadn’t told Malcolm about it yet, as she hadn’t intended to use it, but now that he wasn’t answering she was very glad she had accepted Jessica’s offer of it.
Quickly opening the door, she called up the stairs as she mounted them with hurried steps, “Malcolm, it’s me...Dani, I’m coming in so you better be decent.”
With no response to her call she ran the last couple of steps and made short work of getting the main door to the loft open. What greeted her would haunt her dreams for weeks to come.
Malcolm was slumped prone on the floor, his left arm out to his side, with the right side of his face pressed to the floor, his hair creating a curtain across the rest of his face that was facing her. The small pool of blood that was just visible beside his face had his hair hanging into it leaving it wet and glistening.
“Malcolm!” Dani screamed as she ran to his side and dropped to her knees, vaguely noting a spike of pain as they hit the hard floor. Her hands fluttered over his body and head, unsure where to touch. They settled on his face, gently brushing back the blood wet hair from his too pale face. Streaks of red left across his cheek as the blood soaked hair left it’s mark. His eyelashes were dark fringes on his milky white cheek, his pale clammy skin making them stand out more than usual.
“Malcolm, please…” Dani pleaded as she felt for his pulse at his throat and continued to stroke the hair back from his face. She was unsure if it was for his benefit or her own at this stage. The fast, but steady rhythm that pulsed under her fingertips had her slumping down beside him, resting her forehead to his temple, sighing in gratitude that he was still with her. She pressed a soft kiss to his temple and then scrambled back and frantically searched for her cell in her bag, cursing the other objects stored in there hindering her. Finally with a yell of triumph she pulled it from her bag, almost dropping it in her haste to dial for the emergency operator.
Once she had it dialled she hit the speaker and dropped it beside her and went back to stroking back Malcolm’s hair trying to rouse him from his unconscious state. The heat she now felt radiating from him spiked her anxiety as she heard the operator announcing their presence.
She quickly gave them details of what she had walked in on and his recent medical concerns. His fever a major concern given how recently he had been at death's door fighting off the infections that ravaged the wounds of his hand.
They quickly assured her that they were sending a bus to them now. Dani hadn’t realised she was crying until her voice caught in her throat as she tried to express her gratitude for the quick response. She hastily wiped at her tears and put her focus back on Malcolm, gratefully watching his slow breaths with the rise and fall of his back on her resting hand. Her other hand still stroking his hair, helping that it was comforting to him even if he was unconscious.
She startled back when a sudden inhale turned into a scream as he came back to life under her hands.
“Shit, shit, Malcolm...hey, it’s ok, I got you,” Dani soothed as she helped him finish his clumsy roll to his back.
Bright and feverish eyes flashed over to her as he curled himself away from her around his right arm. Needing to be able to see him, she scrambled on her hands and knees around to his other side, her hands again fluttering over his body and face as she took in the gash along his cheekbone that continued to seep precious blood as his face crumpled in his agony.
“Oh Malcolm, what have you done to yourself,” Dani admonished as she cradled his head in her hands and bent to kiss his burning forehead.
“Dani…,” Malcolm called to her, his voice ragged and pain roughened.
“I’m here, I got you,” She cried, tears once again spilling down her cheeks, “I got you.”
And she knew in the moment that no matter what, she always would. No matter how bad it got, she would be here to help pick up the pieces.