This is his first time. He was always a healthy lad, never needing hospital care or any such things.
Until now. Now he's barely let out of bed, doctors and nurses and other strange people leaning over him, tsking and talking about concussions and back injuries.
It hurts to move, really, so he lies as stiffly as he can, sleeping more than awake, so it's not that hard not to feel. That first week, Finlay's with him all the time, helping him eat... drink... The few times he gains consciousness in this first week, he struggles not to think about what his father did to him, tries to be cheerful in the face of Finlay's obvious guilt, but it's hard.
The Sunday after the attack, he manages to gain consciousness and keeps it for longer than five minutes, actually staying awake for over an hour. They've lessened his pain medication, the nurse who bustles in at Finlay's summons explains with a quick smile.
When she leaves, after urging Hornswoggle to press the button if he needs anything, he turns back to Finlay and frowns. "What happened?"
The Irishman stalls for quite awhile but finally slides his chair closer, one hand dropping on top of Hornswoggle's littler one. He explains what JBL did, what Vince did, and how he wasn't going to Raw tomorrow night.
Hornswoggle can't help the feelings that're swirling through him-- pain, grief, disbelief. He shouldn't be surprised, it's just so Vince to take things too far, but he's worked for months to be a son to that man, and nothing's helped. All he wants is a father, and it's blowing up in his face...
Of course, it gets worse before it gets better.
The next night, Hornswoggle's awake again, staring resolutely at the TV as Vince marches his way down to the ring to apologize... to him...
Finlay holds the remote up, an angry sneer on his lips. "You don't need ta be seein' this, Hornswoggle," he declares, finger hovering over the power button.
"No, no, leave it," the leprechaun exclaims, and if didn't hurt so breathtakingly bad, he'd be swatting the remote out of his friend's hand. But he can barely move, so he just stares hopefully at Finlay, willing him to let him hear his father out.
Somehow it works, as Finlay reluctantly drops the remote onto the bedside table and sits gingerly on the edge of the bed, as if sensing Hornswoggle will need the closeness.
Appeased, Hornswoggle turns his attention back to the TV as Vince demands JBL come down and apologize too. Finlay's mumbling darkly next to him, but all he cares about is the happenings on TV.
When JBL says he should've beat Hornswoggle sooner, Finlay surges off the bed and looks like he wants to strangle someone. The next words out of JBL's mouth, however, stops him in his tracks and he looks like he wants to run, or hide, and it's such an odd look on him that Hornswoggle's caught between looking back and forth between him and the screen.
"Not Vince's son?" he murmurs, eyes locking once more on Finlay as the man flinches and fists his hands angrily. He's about to ask what's going on, when JBL continues: Finlay is his father and JBL has proof?
Once that scene ends and Hornswoggle's left staring at a commercial, Finlay reluctantly turns towards him, the guilt in his eyes thrown in sharp relief in the bright hospital lights overhead. "Hornswoggle..."
"Is it true?" the little guy asks, not bothering with preamble. "Are you my dad?"
The silence is long, encompassing everything. Finally, Finlay licks his lips and nods tiredly. "Aye, it's true... Hornswoggle..."
The betrayal feels like a needle's pricking him in the chest unwaveringly, digging through skin and muscle to bury itself right in his heart. He's floundering, trying to understand why, and how, the friend he's had the longest in the WWE could do this to him, leave him in the clutches of a family who hated him, would've sooner spat on him than been nice to him.
"Get out," he finally whispers once he finds his voice. "Get out, get out, get out!" His voice is rising with each word, leaving Finlay looking like someone's punching him in the gut repeatedly.
He's screaming it out when a nurse and security rushes in, grips a plumb struck Finlay by the wrist and drags him out. Only then, the yells stop and Hornswoggle slumps down, letting the tears stream down his dirty cheeks. Now he feels the pain in his back and head from screaming like he was, whimpering with the force of it until the nurse returns and gives him a sedative. He's so far gone, he doesn't even notice.
0o0o0o0o0o0o
The medicine always leaves him groggy and disoriented, so he's kind of numb the next day and all emotional pain is kind of hazy... he can barely remember what he's so mad, sad, hurt about...
That is, until he hears footsteps and looks up in time to see someone who hazily looks like Finlay standing at the foot of his bed.
"No," he whimpers, twisting his head away, the leftover effects from the medicine causing him to slur his words. "Told you to get out... dun wanna see you..."
An un-Finlay like snort answers him. "Yeah, well, I just got here, so I dunno what you're thinking. They must have you drugged up pretty well."
Reluctantly, Hornswoggle turns back and struggles to focus. Finally his eyes work after a few blinks. "Kenn'dy?" This knowledge doesn't make it any easier for him; Kennedy's hated him since he was named McMahon's son. Seems the man seriously thought Vince was his father... He can't help but feel jealous that Ken at least got out of the torturous association.
"Mm, yes," Ken acknowledges, pulling over the ugly, plush chair so he's next to the bed. "I thought I'd come and see you now that the truth's out in the open... See, way I'm looking at it, you and I both have something in common now. We've both been screwed over by the McMahon regime."
Hornswoggle's mind's still a bit foggy but it's sounding like Kennedy wants to make some sort of an alliance against Vince. "What do you want from me?"
"I want you to tell me honestly, do you want revenge on him or not? Think of everything he's put you and Finlay--" Ken pauses as Hornswoggle cringes at his true father's name, "--through the past few months, and all for nothing. I think together we could raise enough hell that he'd be scared to leave Connecticut by the end of it."
Something's telling Hornswoggle he should think more about what to do about Finlay, who's been lying to him for who knows how long, but for now he'll go along with Kennedy. "Ok. Where do we start?"
Kennedy smirks widely, and drags out a laptop from under his chair. "Was thinking since you're still holed up in here, we'd start small... how 'bout we work together on a letter to the old man? Tell 'im what we, or rather, you, really think of him?"
Hornswoggle's eyes light up briefly as he thinks about venting everything he's felt over the past few months. "Ok, let's do it." As he and Ken lean over the laptop and think about how to word things to inflict the most damage on the paranoid businessman, the pain dulls more and more until he can barely feel it.
End