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Clay was paler even than usual when he entered the room, face pinched, as upset as Tony had ever seen him- and he had considerable experience with an upset Clay. Anyone would think that Clay was the injured party, or that he was rushing to Tony's deathbed, though to be charitable Tony wasn't sure how long Clay had been pacing the hospital corridors with the smell of antiseptic and the taste of bad coffee only exacerbating his anxiety.
Also he probably did look terrible and while Clay hadn't seemed concerned over the deep cut on his own forehead from coming off his bike, nor the beating he'd later received, to see someone else injured affected him differently. Tony could understand that; they shared a desire to protect those they cared about.
"Tony!" Clay seemed torn between the urge to hug his friend and, from how the outstretched hand flew back to clutch at his denim jacket, the instinct to stay back in case he hurt him further. "Oh my God."
Clay felt things deeply and displayed them fully and to see his concern, genuine but unnecessary, to see the affection beneath the fear written on his face was touching. In fact it was almost adorable. Propped up against a bunch of pillows Tony gave him a lazy smile. Sore muscles and bruised skin protested and he tried not to wince and worry Clay further.
"Calm yourself. I'm all right."
Clay glared, mouth opening and closing a few times, cheeks reddening. It was almost like he was going to explode. "You're in the hospital!" He waved his arms around as if to demonstrate the reality of their surroundings.
"They only want to keep me overnight because they're worried I could have a mild concussion. They don't accept how hard Padilla heads are." Tony lifted one arm, where his bruised wrist was in a sling. "This is just a sprain and the sling is coming straight off the second I'm out of here."
Clay's lower lip trembled as relief began to take over. He moved to pull up a hard plastic chair and sit alongside the bed. Nonetheless he pushed further, "What about the rest?"
Of course he'd been talking to Tony's brothers while waiting to see him and Tony bit back a sigh. He would need to speak with them, tell them that Clay could be fragile and to never let the young man get so worked up.
"Just a couple of cracked ribs. Had worse when I was nine, remember?" Tony said. "I was showing off on my bike, pedaling really fast, misjudged the makeshift ramp, and bam! Knocked out a tooth and luckily it was one of my last baby teeth. Cracked a rib then too and banged my knee up. I limped for a week."
Clay shook his head, disapproving, but that was in the past and he was soon drawn back to the present. "Your face," he said in despair and he didn't have to say more.
"Like you've never had a split lip or a black eye," Tony chided. From Bryce, too, and he didn't need to say Bryce's name for Clay was squirming enough. "Some people might say a shiner makes someone look tougher, more dangerous. Mysterious, even. What's the word? Alluring?"
"How many drugs are you on?" Clay muttered, because surely romantic Tony was a drugged Tony.
"Not enough," Tony quipped and regretted it when Clay's eyes flashed with minor panic. "Clay, please. I heal quickly. I will be all right."
Clay swallowed hard. "I couldn't bear it if you weren't," he said softly.
There was a short silence broken by an announcement requesting a Dr Page to report to room 104.
"I'm not going anywhere," Tony told Clay, holding his gaze. He knew the reason behind Clay's concern. He'd lost too many people already.
Clay tipped his head. "Promise?"
"As much as it is in my power to," Tony said, feeling he needed to be honest. "You are not getting rid of me."
Clay sat back in the chair and his whole body relaxed, tension draining out of him, shoulders drooping, face serene. Much better.
"It could have been worse," Tony said. "They might have gone after my baby."
"Your--" Clay broke off in realization, frustration coming to the fore. "Your car?!"
"It's not just any car," Tony protested. His Ford Mustang was precious and while his bruises would fade, replacement parts for the vehicle would not have come cheap.
Clay shook his head. He was not a car guy and he didn't get it. "So what happened?" he asked, getting back to the issue at hand. "Was it Bryce?"
Tony nodded. Bryce had been the instigator though it had taken three of them to give him this beating. Bryce alone he could have handled, but Bryce with two unknown accomplices (not his friends but a couple of balaclava-wearing kids, one white and one Latino judging from their hands and accents) was another matter.
As if hurting Tony could undo what had been done, or could stop what had been put in motion now the tapes were public. As if Tony had been responsible for anything beyond ensuring those responsible heard Hannah's words and giving her parents the USB copies. As if Hannah's parents were ever going to stop pushing and demanding an investigation regardless of what Tony had or hadn't done. As if Bryce didn't deserve to face the truth and repercussions of his actions.
"What are you going to do?" Clay asked.
"I thought about lying, saying that I had no idea how who any of them were," Tony said. The three had fled when a customer had arrived at the garage and immediately ran back out to call the police. Tony supposed it was lucky the beating had been interrupted but he'd been annoyed by the involvement of the emergency services that followed. "My brothers could take care of this. Don't snitch, right?"
Clay nodded, again disapproving but accepting.
"But then I decided this has to stop," Tony went on. "I'm going to tell the police. Someone is coming to take my statement. The hospital took photos." He gestured with his uninjured arm towards his damaged face. "If Bryce isn't stopped he is just going to keep hurting people. We have to stop this cycle of violence. No more secrets. Even if the truth hurts or has consequences."
Clay let out a long breath. "No more secrets," he agreed. He reached out and took Tony's hand, avoiding a skinned knuckle. He squeezed Tony's fingers tightly. "We're in this together."
"Always," Tony agreed. "Now go home. You look as bad as I probably do."
Clay scoffed but he released Tony and got to his feet. "I'll be back to visit you tomorrow."
"No. I told you, I'm out of here tomorrow. Come to the house."
Clay's face lit up at that. "All right. See you there."
Tony closed his eyes. He was going to be fine but he would appreciate some sleep and now that he'd finally calmed a frantic Clay he'd more than earned that. He hoped that now Clay was sufficiently reassured he too would get some sleep. They both needed it. It had been, and continued to be, a hell of a year.
Tony felt he had let Hannah down when he hadn't intervened the last time he saw her, delivering the tapes. He hadn't kept her secrets, choosing to give the digital copies of her tapes to her parents. He was now committed to bringing her parents some closure and to see Bryce punished. Clay had been righteously angry that no-one seemed to be doing anything after hearing Hannah's words other than throwing stones at a window. They were doing something about it now.
There was so much more to do.
Hannah had talked about the butterfly effect perhaps not realizing how her death would send out ripples those left behind would spend the rest of their lives dealing with. Tony and Clay were still riding those waves, but at least they were riding them out together.