Chapter Text
Toby reached for the bottle of tequila and missed, knocking it over. As he watched it spill out onto the table, one thought penetrated his mind, “I am not nearly drunk enough for this.”
He had proposed. He thought they were in love. He was. He had managed not to lose the ring, in spite of being kidnapped. He had been so glad to be rescued, grateful to Happy and the team for coming through once again. So despite her warnings, he had proposed. Happy’s response still echoed in his head. “I can’t. I’m married to someone else. I’m sorry!”
He reached for the bottle and missed again, his hand splashing in the growing puddle of tequila. “I have not drunk enough…. I have not drunk enough to be this uncoordinated.”
He pushed himself upright and staggered to the kitchen. His stomach heaved and he collapsed against the sink, knocking Cabe’s carefully washed coffee mug to the floor, the folded paper towel fluttering after it. Toby’s brain was slow to process, but eventually he realized that even drinking on an empty stomach he should not be this nauseous. He rinsed his mouth with water and stared at his reflection in the window. Something was off. Perhaps he should have let them take him to the hospital to get checked out after his rescue, but he felt fine and just wanted to enjoy feeling safe back with Happy and the team at the garage. Now everything had gone wrong and he had been left alone in his misery. He blinked to try and clear his vision and realized he couldn’t. Vision in his right eye was blurry, almost greyed out, and his left pupil was dilated. This was bad.
Doctor Tobias Curtis tried to force his fuzzy brain to think like the genius Harvard trained M.D. he was. He had been hit on the head late the night before. The sun was high enough to be seen through the upper warehouse windows when he came to, so he had been unconscious for several hours. He had then been lucid for almost a full day. He was most likely bleeding into his brain, and only now had the pressure become high enough to cause noticeable symptoms, though if he hadn’t been drunk and heartbroken, he might have noticed them sooner. He staggered to his feet. He was too drunk to drive even if a car was still here, and with vision failing in one eye, his depth perception was shot. He should call 911. He reached for his cell phone, only to remember he no longer had it; he had dropped it when he was hit. He staggered towards the door. He knew he needed to get help fast. The hospital was only a few blocks away. He had run away from many a bookie when he was gambling, he would just have to try and walk to the hospital tonight.