Work Text:
1929
Please be okay.
The drive seemed to last for days; weeks, even. Years.
Hell, by the time Meyer arrived at the hospital, he felt as though he had lived lifetimes.
Please be okay.
No one would tell Meyer a thing. In reality, it was because no one knew anything. At this point, Meyer lacked patience as much as his informants lacked any valuable information.
Please, please, please be okay.
He sat outside the hospital room, his face positioned neatly between his two hands, palm to palm, elbows resting on his legs. If his eyes glistened, he never shed a tear. If his breath shook, his voice never quivered. It was critical that no one see his worry, or sense his wavering composure. It wasn’t just anybody in the hospital bed on the other side of the door, and everyone knew it. The cops knew it, the doctors knew it, and even the other patients in adjacent rooms knew it. Charlie Luciano was in that hospital bed, and Meyer had absolutely no idea if he was alright.
Two mornings before, Meyer had left Charlie’s Waldorf apartment after staying over for the night. This wasn’t something he was able to do often, and he was always sure to leave at a reasonable time in the morning, as not to arouse suspicion amongst those employed at the hotel (who all thought Meyer simply came to see Mr. Luciano with business talk, that just so happened to last long into the night, and who just so happened to stay over in Mr. Luciano’s spare bedroom when things ran a little late). Meyer had awoken next to Charlie, all bleary eyed and curly haired and looking at Meyer like he held the world in his hands.
“I’ve gotta go, Charlie.” Meyer said, starting to pull his aching body from the sheets.
“Come on, shayna punim.” Charlie said mischievously, grabbing Meyer’s arm to pull him back on the mattress. “Don’t leave me lonely. At least stay for breakfast this time?”
Meyer smirked.
“Breakfast? Is that what you’re calling it now?”
Charlie grinned.
“I’ll call it whatever you like if you stay.”
“I’m tempted.” Meyer replied. “But I’ve gotta go.”
Charlie’s face fell, though he tried his best not to look upset. Meyer could see the disappointment in the Italian’s eyes, and it was almost enough to make him stay. But he knew keeping up appearances was important, lest they find themselves in the middle of a scandal so taboo it made Meyer sick almost thinking about it. Protecting himself was one thing, but protecting Charlie was almost always at the front of his thoughts.
Meyer leaned towards Charlie, reaching up a hand to card gently through his best friend’s thick black hair.
“Gimme a kiss, handsome.” Meyer spoke. “I’ll see you in a few days. Alright?”
Charlie complied, and Meyer left.
Somewhere in the two days that followed, Charlie had gotten hurt. How or why, Meyer didn’t know. One moment he was eating dinner with business partners, and the next he received a phone call at the restaurant from Frank Costello, who told him that Charlie was in the hospital.
Meyer couldn’t leave the restaurant fast enough.
Benny met Meyer at the hospital an hour or so after Meyer arrived, finding his friend sitting quietly on a wooden bench, eyes fixated on the wall in front of him. When Meyer saw Benny, he narrowed his eyes carefully.
“You shouldn’t be here, Benny.” Meyer said.
“Why not?” Benny questioned with feigned innocence, placing his hands in his pockets.
“You know why.” Meyer sighed. “Because if too many of us are here, connections will be made, suspicions will rise, and we’ll be in even more danger than we already are.”
“By that logic, you shouldn’t be here either.” Benny responded, a dark seriousness in his voice that wasn’t often heard. “And call me crazy, but I think the danger has already caught up to us. Big time.”
Meyer couldn’t bring himself to argue.
“Besides.” Benny continued, taking a seat on the wooden bench next to Meyer. “I wanna be here.”
“Really?” Meyer said, turning to face his friend. “Wasn’t it you who, just last week, told me you wished Charlie would shove a rudder up his ass and swim back to dago-land?”
Benny shrugged unapologetically.
“He’s a fuckin’ asshole, what do you want from me?” he replied. “But he’s our asshole.”
The younger man stared at the ground, something like anger stirring behind his brown eyes. He twiddled his thumbs back and forth, his foot beginning to tap on the ground nervously.
“If this wasn’t Maranzano, then I’m Fanny fuckin’ Brice.” Benny growled. “He’s been after Charlie for a long time.”
“We don’t even know what this is.” Meyer answered in a hushed voice. “And you need to keep your voice down.”
Benny rolled his eyes and sat back impatiently, his foot continuing to tap incessantly on the hospital floor. Meyer did his best to ignore the sound, resuming his previous position of face in hands, elbows on knees. He took in a great gulp of air, then exhaled slowly, in an attempt to expel the lump that was beginning to form in the back of his throat. This did not go unnoticed by Benny, who paused his nervous movements to turn and look at his friend.
“Hey.” Benny said, his voice quiet. “Meyer.”
Meyer didn’t look at Benny. He simply stared ahead, his gaze locked on the white wall in front of him, as if the only thing in the world keeping him together was the ability to stare at something, anything. His breathing quickened despite his attempts to keep it even.
Benny put a hand on Meyer’s shoulder.
“Meyer.” Benny repeated, more gently this time. “Everything is gonna be fine.”
Meyer closed his eyes.
“You hear me?” Benny continued. “Charlie’s gonna be okay.”
Meyer opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, the door to Charlie’s hospital room opened. A nurse stepped out, an older looking woman with kind eyes. She approached Meyer, who stood immediately, unable to hide the look of urgency that had appeared on his face.
“He’s resting.” The nurse relayed, and Meyer nearly sank to his knees.
Alive. He’s alive.
They allowed Meyer in soon after he received the news.
He wished someone would have warned him.
When Meyer entered the small hospital room, his eyes wandering over tables and chairs and needles and vases of withering flowers, he did not know what to expect. When Meyer’s eyes fell on Charlie Luciano, lying stagnant in a hospital bed, the very ground beneath his feet seemed to crumble underneath him.
“Holy shit.” Benny whispered.
There was a man in that bed, but he looked nothing like Charlie Luciano. Charlie was beautiful and tan and glowing. Charlie had hypnotizing brown eyes like deep amber, and thick curly hair that was always styled to utter perfection. Charlie’s very touch was electricity and comfort all in one, his laugh the cure for any ill.
But this-this man in the bed-he wasn’t Charlie. He couldn’t be.
Deep violet bruises completely covered his face. One cheek, noticeably more swollen than the other, protruded outwards in an almost grotesque way, and Meyer could make out a long row of freshly sewn stitches amongst the dark discoloration of the man’s skin. His right eye was not visible, and his brow-bone seemed to slump forwards to cover most of his eyelid. His hair was wild and matted with dried blood in places the nurses couldn’t clean it; his hands were purple and swollen and bandaged heavily. There were multiple lacerations on his arms and a few on his neck, either stitched up or bandaged by cotton gauze pads. You could hear him breathing quietly in his drugged slumber, loudly and desperately, as though every breath drawn was like climbing a mountain. There was hardly an inch of his body that wasn’t battered and bruised black, hardly any indication that this was the man Meyer had seen just two mornings before.
“Charlie.” Meyer breathed, his voice catching in the back of his throat.
Benny practically growled behind him.
“Fuckin’ unbelievable.” Benny snarled. “Whoever did this is gonna fuckin’ pay.”
“And how do you suggest that happens?” Meyer replied, unable to keep his voice from shaking.
“Gotta happen somehow!” Benny yelled, ignoring the shushing from the nurse outside the door. “He’s a fuckin’ vegetable, Meyer! Look at him!”
“You think I’m not looking at him!?” Meyer yelled back, eyes wide. “You think I can’t see what they did to him!? You think I can’t look at him and…and…oy gutt, look what they did to him, look what they did to Charlie…”
His voice cracked.
Meyer felt the tears threatened to spill down his face before he could stop them. He brought his hand to his mouth with haste, in an attempt to keep in any noises that may escape, but not before he let out a choked gasp that practically wracked his entire body. He desperately searched for his composure, tried to find some last shred of self-control. He felt Benny’s hand on his shoulder, and gave a silent prayer in thanks that he was the only one there to witness this.
“I’m gonna go tell the guys about this.” Benny said quietly. “They’ll need to know.”
Meyer nodded, inhaling deeply.
“Don’t do anything until we hear from Charlie.” Meyer instructed, doing his best to sound formidable and businesslike, though his voice was hoarse and shaking. “We need to know what happened before anyone does anything unnecessary.”
“You got it.” Benny replied. “And…I’ll tell them you got held up. That you’ll see them tomorrow.”
“Yes, uh…” Meyer started, turning to face his friend. The younger man was staring at him with sad, knowing eyes.
“Thank you, Benny.”
Benny nodded in return, giving Meyer a sad half smile that held about as much comfort as he could muster. In one smooth motion, he placed his hat back on his head and tipped it ever so slightly, before turning and walking out of the room, his footsteps tapping across the tile floor.
Meyer waited until he heard the door shut behind him.
When he was sure there was no one else in the room, Meyer took a small chair from a nearby table and brought it over to Charlie’s bedside, placing it gently on the ground. He took a deep breath, and gingerly placed his hat on the bedside table.
Then he sat down, put his head in his hands, and sobbed.