Chapter Text
Eleanor's whispered warning was enough. Not enough to keep Geoffrey from getting shot, but enough to keep him from getting killed. Dean Possey always hit his mark. Always. He never left a single victim alive. But that was when his victims had been unsuspecting. When they hadn't known his bullet was coming. When they hadn't had an Eleanor Falco to warn them that Dean was about to strike.
Geoffrey had had just enough time to flinch. To move a millimeter to the side. To avoid getting hit directly in the heart. The bullet went through him. In and out. A clean shot straight through his torso. But it missed his heart.
He lay conscious on the floor of Mrs. Possey's kitchen for only moments, hearing Dean's mom plead with Eleanor not to move. Not to pose any sort of threat to her son or she would die too.
Too, he thought. They think I'm dead.
He wanted to tell them he wasn't. He wanted to tell them that he was still very much alive. Well, maybe not very much but alive nonetheless.
The pain was beginning to subside. He could feel the warmth of his blood pooling beneath him, and he wondered how long it would take for it to grow cool. Then cold. Then, he wondered how long it would take for his body to grow cold. He knew the math. He knew how long it took once the heart had stopped pumping blood. But he couldn't remember. He couldn't think. And, besides, his heart was still beating, wasn't it?
I'm still alive, he thought as his vision darkened.
***
When Geoffrey came to again, he was on his back, and as he batted his eyelids open, he was blinded by bright fluorescent lights. Something was covering his mouth and nose. He thought someone was suffocating him. He reached up to his face, his arm weak, his hand moving in slow motion.
As soon as he touched the contraption over his mouth and nose, he felt fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand away.
"No," he said, but it came out as an unintelligible groan.
"It's all right, Agent Lammark," a female voice said. "Leave it on. It's helping you breathe."
The owner of the voice set his arm down gently beside him. He tried to reach up to remove the mask again, but he found that his arm wouldn't budge. He thought she had restrained him, but then he realized that he was just too weak to move.
He closed his eyes again.
***
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The sound was constant but unobtrusive. He recognized it but couldn't readily place it.
He wondered if the mask were still over his face. It felt like it. For a moment, he thought about trying to remove it again, but the woman had said it was helping him...do something. Do...what? He was asleep, wasn't he? He had been, anyway. He wasn't doing anything.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
A hospital monitor. That's what that sound sound was.
His eyes were still closed. His lids felt too heavy to be opened, so he lay still, listening to the sounds of the monitor, wondering who was hooked up. Who was being monitored. He wondered how they were doing or if they were close to death.
Breathe, he thought suddenly. She said it's helping me breathe.
He wasn't sure if that were true or not. He didn't know why he would be having trouble breathing. But it seemed all right. The mask didn't seem to be suffocating him. He inhaled deeply, just curious if he could. Just curious if the mask would help him do so.
He felt a sharp, unexpected pain in his chest, and he groaned.
The beeping from the hospital monitor increased.
Me, he thought. I'm the one hooked up.
He felt his chest rise and fall with his quickened breaths, each one sending a surge of pain through his torso.
"Geoff," he heard a voice say. "It's okay."
Geoff, he thought. There was only one person in his everyday life who called him Geoff. Only one person who could say it and not make Geoffrey cringe.
"Gavin," Geoffrey said, but once again, it came out as nothing more than a groan. He still couldn't open his eyes. They were still too heavy.
"It's okay," Gavin repeated.
Geoffrey felt his husband's hand around his own. Gavin squeezed gently. Geoffrey tried to squeeze back, but he couldn't. He was too weak.
"I'll get the nurse," Gavin said, and then his hand was gone, and Geoffrey succumbed to the darkness once again.
***
Gavin stood nearby, watching as the nurse checked Geoff's vitals. Her expression was gentle and pleasant and never once changed as she did so.
"His vitals are good," she assured Gavin.
"Really?" he asked. His arms were folded tightly across his chest. He lifted one hand to chew at his thumbnail. He knew Geoff would tell him to stop.
"Yes, he's stable."
"He was groaning. I think he's in pain."
"All right," she said with a nod. She checked his chart. "He's due for some more painkillers." She went to his IV and administered the drug.
Gavin watched his husband, wondering how long it would take for the meds to work and for the pain to subside. Geoff looked to be asleep again, but he had looked like he was asleep when he had groaned minutes before as well.
"How long before he...wakes up?" Gavin asked.
"We can't really say," the nurse said gently. "It could be hours, or it could be a couple of days before he's coherent."
Gavin sighed heavily. He wasn't sure he could handle a couple more days of this.
"He's stable, though," the nurse reminded him. Then, she gently added, "He's in good hands."
Gavin rubbed his hands over his face and then nodded his acknowledgment to her. He knew she was doing the best she could. He knew they all were. They just had to wait.