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There were times the Man Cave was nearly sterile in its silence. Ray found it both unsettling and comforting.
Without the beep of the monitors, Henry’s laughter, singing, yelling and general noise, Charlotte’s deadpan or Schwoz’s tinkering, the place felt almost wrong. In the absence of an overnight call, 3AM was deafeningly quiet. The only sensory input came from the low hum of the AutoSnacker, telling Ray the electricity still worked.
Rarely did Ray crave the silence and the pitch black. Maybe what he actually craved was a banana. Whatever the reason, it pulled him semi-reluctantly out from under the covers, out of his sanctuary, and through his grand entrance out the sprocket door.
Ray stared down at the hunched figure in the Man Cave, who froze mid-movement in the darkness, as though it might make them invisible somehow. Fifteen seconds passed. All he’d wanted was a banana.
“I can see you,” said Ray finally. He was too tired to yell. He cleared the stairs with ease, the motion bringing the Auto Snacker out of NightMode and casting the Man Cave in a garish glow. It illuminated the figure, whom Ray had identified long ago. Ray wished he would leave.
“Forget something?”
Jasper shook his head, and Ray caught a glimpse of the dark liquid that oozed down his cheek. Ah, fuck.
“Uh oh,” tried Ray, his tone light. It was Jasper. Clumsy, bull-in-a-china shop, over-earnest, infuriating Jasper. Jasper, who watched The Princess Bride and had the same reactions as the sick little kid being told the bedtime story. Jasper, who held tangled red string and tried to convince them all that Downtown Brown was an alias for where the Playground Pooper might hide.
He probably tripped over his own feet, Ray posited. Ray couldn’t convince himself if he tried.
“That’s, ah- that's a pretty nasty gash. Mind if I take a look?”
If there was anything Ray hated more than Jasper’s incessant chatter, it was Jasper’s selective mutism. Ray took eight measured strides over to the boy, who stood halfway between the elevator and the couch. Jasper stared pointedly at the floor. There was a small, but deep cut near the outer corner of his left eye, which had bled profusely before beginning to congeal. This was what Ray had caught glistening in the distance.
“Jasper? You wanna tell me what’s going on?”
He suspected Jasper didn't.
Ray had had enough. He stepped to the side and brought up a hand to comfortingly squeeze the nape of Jasper’s neck before prodding him forward.
“Come on, let’s get you on the couch. Have you sit down for a bit, okay? We don't want anything to get infected.” Ray’s voice was authoritative, but soft- a rarity. Jasper was compliant, as always.
First aid kit First aid kit First aid kit.
The flashlight test told Ray his pupils weren’t blown. That was a good sign.
South Swellview. Not the easiest place to come into the world. Captain Man had had his fair share of interventions there. Some were routine, some were Jeff, and some were so bad that Henry was barred from joining. He’d held dozens of tremoring children in his strong arms over the years, who’d had no say in the carnage they'd been caught in.
Jasper sat placid as Ray wiped away the dried blood from his face. The lack of reaction made Ray wonder how used to this he was.
“Jasper, you’ve got two big cuts on your face. One looks like just a scratch on your forehead. Those bleed like a bitch --- don’t tell Charlotte I said that. She’s already made a killing with her Misogyny Jar. R.I.P. to all my loose change,” Ray muttered. He had hoped Jasper would laugh or engage, but nothing. Ray sighed and applied the gauze and bandage to Jasper’s forehead.
“This next one’s gonna hurt a little more, okay?”
Ray felt a chill run through his body as Jasper uttered his first words.
“Thank you.”
Once Ray had discarded the used antibacterial wipes and piles of reddened gauze, he tore open a sachet of numbing gel with his teeth. Jasper looked wordlessly at him, as though to say yes before he watched the needle close the gap out of the corner of his eye. Ray’s stiches had nothing on Charlotte or Schwoz, but they got the job done.
“I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“You didn’t,” Ray retorted. “And you should never go to bed after taking a hit to the head like that, or with your face bleeding like that. Surely, you know that already?”
Jasper frowned. “Of course I do. I was gonna look for the first aid kit."
“And that definitely wouldn’t have woken everybody up,” Ray snorted, rolling his eyes as he pictured comic-book levels of crashing noises.
“Yeah, I guess it would have,” Jasper chuckled.
Ray's laughter died in his throat, and he felt immediately sick as he shook a small piece of ceramic out of Jasper’s hair. It clinked onto the table with enough sound to prove its weight.
“Shoulda curled my hair, would have helped cushion things,” Jasper mused.
“Did you… get in a fight with a china shop?” Ray asked. He didn’t deserve this. Jasper didn’t deserve this.
“Sure,” Jasper agreed easily.
Worry creased Ray’s forehead. “I am… contractually obliged to ask if you feel safe at home.”
“She’s sick, Ray.”
“And heavily intoxicated!” Ray countered.
“That too. I made sure to prop her up on her side on the couch, so she won’t choke on her own vomit or anything.” Jasper added quickly. Jesus, this poor kid. He probably repurposed his buckets for her too.
“You told me things were getting better. Did they start getting worse again recently?”
Jasper made brief eye contact with Ray.
“After your grandmother passed away?”
Jasper nodded.
“Did you come here to spend the night?”
Jasper looked uncertain.
“Mom’s fine, I swear. She just needs to sleep things off-”
“I trust you,” Ray interrupted. “Listen, Jasper, I don’t want you free-bleeding all over my couch-”
“-I can sleep upstairs.”
“What? No. I mean, there’s rooms in the back. Take one of the spare beds.”
Jasper looked puzzled. Ray stared at Jasper in his jeans and thrifted t-shirt. Microcuts he'd missed beaded blood on his hands. He looked uncomfortable. There was bottled water and a set of sleepwear, nondescript aside from the Captain Man logo, waiting on the dresser, as well as an en suite if the kid needed to wash off the day.
"So...you want me to bleed on your nice beds?" Jasper asked slowly.
“Sheets can be washed," answered Ray, grabbing the first aid kit. "Come on. Up you get.” Ugh, thought Ray, cringing at his newfound dialogue. He sounded so old. He blamed Jasper.
Jasper finally stood up.
“Good man,” Ray nodded, wondering where all these awful phrases were coming from.
“I won’t be any trouble, Sir,” said Jasper quietly, as he slipped into the shadow of his fourteen year old self.
Ray put a hand on Jasper’s shoulder. The words came easily this time.
“I know you won’t, Son.”