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The team loads into the bus while Mike and Blip hover near the doors. Every single Padre has a present in their hands. No flowers, as per Blip's instructions. He'd told them all, right after the game, "Ginny hates flowers, and if you think for a second, you're going into that hospital room with a bouquet," he'd clapped his mitt, "I'll throw my own arm out smacking that shit right out of your hands." They'd laughed, but he'd leveled a glare that told them they should listen.
Now they shuffle onto the bus, comparing their books and movies and freaking puzzles — basically anything to keep the ever restless Ginny Baker from losing her mind while she's figuring out what happens next. No official word's come from her camp, or Amelia, and honestly the most anyone knows at this point is that she's still in the hospital and that Evelyn and Blip spent the whole of yesterday over there. Blip's tight-lipped about her condition, but he'd insisted that they all show their support and remind her that she's a Padre, part of the team no matter what.
Mike's got a rolled up poster in his hands. He wrings it as Livan heads on the bus, then loosens his grip so the wrinkles won't set in. Livan's got a card. The fuck is Ginny gonna do with a card? Place it near the generic teddy bear some fan in the hospital no doubt sent her from the gift shop? Drop it in the trash when no one's looking? Either way, Mike circles his jaw to break the tension and figures he could say something to ease some of that with Blip too.
"Good idea taking the bus," Mike says, "Looks good for the team."
Blip rolls his shoulders. "Yeah, well, I've always been about the team. But hey, glad you could show. Thought you might leave her too." He keeps his eyes forward as he says it, so maybe he misses the way that Mike slackens. How Mike's shoulders sort of drop before any words find their way out.
Honestly how difficult is it for the team to put this together? Mike hadn't tried to leave. He'd been told to leave. He'd been pressured into trading, and now he's still here. "I didn't leave anyone."
Blip barely stifles his scoff. "Keep telling yourself that." He starts for the bus, but Mike grabs his arm to stop him. Blip doesn't exactly glare back, but the look's not too friendly.
Mike says, "I'm here, aren't I? Give me credit for that at least."
Blip shakes off the hold. "Just don't walk out once you go in there. She might act tough, but you know how this stuff is."
"Yeah, I do." Mike's the one with the bum knees, getting replaced and traded like he didn't help build this team player by player right alongside Al. He's the one who's getting pushed out of that team that he built by the closest friend he'd had among them. He's the one who had the power to try and talk Ginny down, to give a different call, to do something other than watch while she fucked herself up on that throw. He knows more than anyone else here how rough it is to watch your career dance on the edge of fate and someone else's bad intuition. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Good." With that said, Blip heads for his seat on the bus. Mike heads to his. And they don't say another word, not until they get to the hospital.
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Players go in two by two. Blip stays, half hanging off the bed from his seat on the corner of Ginny's bed. She's propped up, arm held close to her body, and her smile comes in and out depending on who's there and what gifts they've brought for her.
Sonny gives her a Magic Mike DVD. Says, "If the thing with the billionaire doesn't work out." She swats at him, and he laughs. "What? You already have it? This one's deluxe!"
Livan gives her his number, scrawled inside of a get well soon card. He says, "Call me if you need me, mami. I give a good back rub." Blip glares at Livan for that, but Ginny laughs and says she'll keep it in mind.
She gets a puzzle, a few ice packs, a long stick that's meant to be a scratcher for inside a cast if she needs one of those. She gets a new Monopoly and a deck of playing cards that have her as the queen, which she only slightly rolls her eyes at. She only gets one book — Queen Sugar, and Blip's the one who gave it to her, saying, "Ev's already obsessed with the show it's based on, and it's not even out yet, Gin. Please read it. Please talk to her about it. Distract her, Ginny. Please."
Then it's Mike's turn. He'd waved in player after player before him, smiled and waved as they headed back to the bus. He'd told them all, "I'll get my own ride back. Gotta give the rookie a speech worth coming back for." But his mind's pretty empty by the time he pushes open the door to her private room. Throat's dry, lips splitting, and honestly he loses any words he's got left once he catches sight of Blip sitting guard.
He catches the tail end of something Ginny's saying, something like "She's not wrong to want that, Blip." But her words stop once he gets the door open, and Blip turns to stare out the window. Ginny, though, she stares at Mike with her jaw up a little too high, her eyes a little glassy. She doesn't cry much, doesn't show much more emotion than she has to most of the time, so he could almost write it off. She's tired, she's drugged up, but no matter what, there's no hiding the fact that this is getting to her. Plus, her nose is too red, and the top of her cheeks shine up at him like Rudolph's.
"Hey, Baker."
He fights the urge to choke out the poster again. Her lips quirk up. He probably should've wiped his hands on something other than the poster. He's been sweating a lot today, though it's probably just the nerves of everything with the trade and the no hitter.
"You're moving pretty slow, old man."
He chuckles. Shakes off the voice that assures him he could move faster for her if she wants him to. "Yeah, well." He glances around since he doesn't have an end to that sentence. Blip meets his eye. Mike looks from Blip to the door, then back again. Blip doesn't move, as if he can't tell what the sign is, as if they haven't played this game before.
Ginny must see the look. She turns to Blip. "Hey, could you get me something with caffeine?" Her canine teeth poke out in that lopsided grin of hers. "Maybe some rum if you can find it."
Blip laughs. "Yeah, not with your painkillers."
"The caffeine though, that's fair game," she says. Blip stiffens with it, stares down at her like she's picking a side by letting Mike stay. Exactly how long will it take for Blip to remember that they're all the same team? "We'll be good here while you go."
"Yeah, you two said that a million times yesterday." He shakes his head. Turns mocking as he backs towards the door. "You good? I'm good. Good. Good then. Good."
She looks ready to toss a pillow after him, bad arm be damned. "Get out of here!" Blip laughs again before he actually does duck out of the room.
Mike's shoulders relax a bit at the space that gives him. Less tense in the room, less like everything he does is on display. But Blip leaving also means it's just Ginny and Mike, alone, in an isolated room for the first time since that moment the other night. Mike hears the poster crinkle in his grip.
"Easy there; it's not a bat." Ginny scoots up against her pillows so she's about as tall as she can be. "That for me?"
He nods. "Yeah. Right." He reaches out with the poster. "Here." She can't quite reach unless he gets next to the bed. She can't extend too far, or stretch too far, so his jeans brush against hospital sheets while she pulls the present out from him.
She unfurls it carefully, struggling to keep it from rolling back together when she's only got on arm at her disposal. He grabs the top of the poster to help her, which she thankfully doesn't comment on. Just lets it unroll and then full out croaks at the glossy print out of their team nude shots. Hoarse laugh on full display. She rakes her eyes over each of them, maybe even pauses for a second or two extra when she gets to his glorious bod. Stills even longer on her own.
He scratches at his beard with the hand not holding down the poster. "It's supposed to be a joke. Supposed to remind you that you've gotten through a lot already, so this is just the next thing in the line."
She won't look up from it, but her voice shakes a bit when she says, "Thanks, Mike." He makes a move to come closer, and she snaps, "Stop! Don't do that. Don't try to comfort me. Don't try to touch me." She huffs. "I might be hurt, but this is just temporary, okay? You and me, we're still teammates."
He nods, voice softer than he intends it to be, "Of course. But, uh," she looks small for probably the first time since he's known her, and her jaw's pulled in so tight that it could snap, and he doesn't even have to do much of anything, but if he could just sit next to her for a bit, prove that he's here and that he's not going anywhere until she does, then maybe this day won't be the worst he's had in months. "Hey, Blip's a teammate, right?"
She hesitates, wheels visibly turning in her mind. "Yeah?"
"Well, so am I. So," Mike straightens up, "Anything Blip can do, I can do. Makes sense, doesn't it?"
She grins. "I guess it does."
"Good. Now, Blip got to sit on the bed. So…" he nudges her, swats at her leg the way he's done a hundred times on the field. She scoots, and he plops himself down beside her. "I can sit here too."
He might've overstepped. Might've pushed her when she needed someone to just roll over. She smoothes her hands over the poster again and again. Then she says, "You know, Blip was a little closer than that."
So Mike scoots until his leg's up against hers, and their shoulders bump, and she sinks down just enough to lean against him. It's not much, honestly it's nowhere near enough, but it's probably the first time she tells him to come closer to her. Just like Blip, just like the rest of the Padres and every one of those fans out there rooting for her recovery, Mike's not going anywhere.
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