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A hell of a gash – he was told – in his hairline just behind his right ear, more bruises on his body than he could count or see, a blown-out knee, and a concussion. The knee was a no brainer. He’d known that from the instant contact was made, though adrenaline had helped him bypass the worst of the pain for a little while. A small patch of hair gone and seven stitches to deal with the gash, and once they were sure of the severity of his concussion, the necessary pain meds to keep him floating. He wasn’t sure he necessarily enjoyed the floating, but he was sure the moment the meds wore off he’d miss the feeling and beg for it once more.
It had been her asshole of an ex, a man he would have gladly worked over with only the slightest nod of approval from her, not that she ever would have given it. Once he’d gotten the man pinned and additional help had arrived recognition had pinged in his brain – right before the realization that he wouldn’t be standing up again of his own accord for a little while.
The light of day would bring things into a harsher focus but for now all he had to worry about was Solomon and the duty nurses refusing to let him sleep.
“Ask them for jello, next time they come in.”
He gives Sol a delayed look of skepticism, “Jello?”
“Yea. I’m hungry.”
“Then you ask for jello. Or—” He inhales, squinting one eye shut at his friend sitting there in the corner. They’d been talking about… something. Thirsty, he shifts to reach across to the side table to retrieve the dinky plastic cup filled with water. Someone had provided a straw. He doesn’t much like it stirring around, bobbing and weaving in the cup with every movement. Makes him dizzy.
Sol’s laugh draws his attention again, his friend leaning forward to brace on the arms of the chair before working his way out of it, “Alright. I get it. Hunt and forage for myself, then.”
There was something he was supposed to ask. Rather, something he wanted to ask “I shoved her.” Trying to focus on the exact sequence of events makes his head throb a little more than it did a moment prior. He stops trying to grasp at fragments in his mind and settles into the pillow behind his back, “She’s ok. Right?”
Solomon shakes his head, forehead wrinkling as he turns back in the doorway, “She’s fine. Which you know, cause you asked me already.” His eyebrows arch as he trips his focus quickly around the room before homing in on Tom again, “Just worried, which you should know, too, cause you can’t afford this place any more than I can.”
Not knowing how many times he’d asked, or what else to say in response, Tom sighs, “She’s a good person.” It’s the drugs – making him all fuzzy and unfiltered.
“Sure. Same as you. But we both know it’s a little more than that.”
“Don’t.” He shakes his head, mumbling as he makes a face and drawing a chuckle from across the room. “Don’t know that at all.”
Solomon gives him a patiently pained look, “You’re high as a kite and in denial, too. Paddling down the river, pretending it’s a stream…. Find something good to watch while I’m gone…. And be nice to the nurses. They control your drugs.”
He looks at the remote with disgust, the flash of every scene change and commercial break making the space behind his eyes throb. He gives it a few minutes, maybe less, waiting to be sure Sol won’t stroll right back in before he turns the tv off.
He wasn’t in denial. He was… fighting. Fighting with denial. Engaged in a long and strenuous debate with denial.
It seems like he’s only just shut his eyes, only just drifted off, when someone’s back in his room, fingers on his pulse. Yes. Yes. He’s awake. He’s awake. He flutters his eyes open and then blinks them hard. There’s two of her sitting there for a moment before they meld back into one, two of her perched there on the edge of the bed with this knotted up expression of concern on her face.
He lifts his hand, catching her fingers before she can withdraw them, curious and happy all at once. She shouldn’t be here looking down at him with such worry in her eyes. Like the rest of the world she should be sleeping, not wide awake like the night staff refusing to let him get much, if any, shut eye.
Since he’s got one hand captive with no intention of letting go, she ends up using the other to assess him, her eyes following along as she traces each scrape, each forming bruise. He contemplates telling her about the stitches, but that would mean looking away from her. Besides, that wide-eyed look of alarm might appear again, and he’d like to avoid that for now.
“Are you ok?”
“I’m,” she laughs, water welling up on her lower lashes before she blinks the tears away again, giving her head a quick shake, “you’re in hospital with a concussion. Look at you!” Her eyes go wide and she turns a little, scooting further off the bed, “And your knee!”
It reminds him of something, vaguely. He can’t quite grasp it. Instead, he squeezes her hand, hoping that will be enough to calm her, to bring those sparkling eyes back to meet his again. “I’m sorry.”
Frown lines appear, disappearing just as quickly, “You’re sorry? Oh my God. You don’t have to protect me right now. Please,” her free hand moves to the side of his face, faltering as her fingers go into his hairline and draw a wince out of him, “please just –”
Those wide hazel eyes keep him captivated. Light green with little impossible flecks of darker green and copper and brown and blue. She’d been about to say something right before they’d flashed in warning, right before he’d seen stars and everything became a muddled mess. He gives her hand another squeeze as he prompts her, “You know. You said ‘you know’.”
“What?”
The machines in the room continue their steady hum, something closer to the bed emitting a tiny beep. Monitoring doses or heart rate or whatever else they were for. Someone had told him all that earlier. They’ll have to tell him all that again the next time they check on him, too.
Oh. Maybe that’s what that beeping was. The throbbing behind his eyes has started to subside, and his ribs, back, and knee… He smiles at her, aware of how lopsided it is but unable to figure out how to immediately remedy the problem, “You weren’t trying to tell me something?”
“I – I don’t.” She shakes her head, closing her eyes for a moment before offering a quiet smile in return. “I don’t remember? Something stupid. To tease you, probably.”
He smiles at that, hearing the honestly in it. She was always doing that. Teasing and testing, poking at her Mr. Stoic to see if she could find the man hidden behind the walls. She just didn’t realize how paper thin those walls were, much like those walls between the rooms of the suites they were in during the conference. He’d heard every word of those horrible phone calls, that asshole ex of hers destroying her every night. Marveled at how she put herself together every morning, not showing any of the grief she felt when she stepped out to face the public.
When she squeezes his hand again, he flutters his eyes open, realizing he’d somehow drifted off. Some bodyguard he was. Unable to keep from drifting, keep from being pulled under.
“I’m going to–” She looks towards the doorway, offering something other than him a tight smile. It isn’t one of those special ones she sometimes gives him. So – so maybe that’s ok. “I should probably go so you can rest. Sol will be back soon.”
Sol can stay good and gone, and so can all the nurses that won’t let him sleep. He maintains his hold on her hand, the only thing currently keeping her close to him. It’s like she doesn’t want to twist her fingers away from his. He hopes.
A man can always hope.
“I love you, you know.”
She blinks at him, her mouth dropping open for a second before she shuts it again. One of those secret little smiles he sometimes catches appears for a fraction of a moment before a wider, laughing smile graces her lips. She shakes her head, something glittering at the corners of her eyes, but then she leans too close to him for him to be able to follow. Surprisingly, his body doesn’t complain about the weight of hers shifting onto his. Her lips brush the corner of his mouth, applying a gentle kiss before she lifts herself, moving back to the spot where she’d been sitting moments before, “That’s the medicine talking. But - maybe tell me again when you can remember you’ve said it?”