AN: I've come to realize that I struggle with showing vs telling, meaning that often my first draft (which I often impulsively post immediately after writing) is all about telling you guys how something happened, capturing things in words and descriptions that don't feel... right, when I later re-read them. Comasuffered from this. It's my hope that this edit does what I originally intended the fic to do.
Tom awkwardly put the flowers down on the side table and came closer to the hospital bed. He was almost scared to breathe around Charlie, his friend looked like a good gust of wind would be enough to kill him. It was scary, and so was the knowledge of how truly fucked up a condition Cain had left Charlie in.
And he lay there, in a coma, apparently, hands too still upon the stiff white sheets. Tom swallowed, closing his eyes, and tried to convince himself that Charlie was going to be okay. He was, the doctor said so.
There were other things mentioned, physical therapy and lots of medicines and all of that - but what Tom's mind had focused on was the affirmation, the calm and definite assurance that as bad as Charlie looked, he was going to be OK. Maybe not immediately, but eventually.
That was enough. It was enough to combat the memory of his friend covered in blood, cradled in Jack's arms, and enough for him to hope.
Feeling shaky, he opened his eyes and walked over to the bedside, tentatively taking Charlie's hand and gripping gently.
"Hey." He said softly. For a moment he wasn't sure what to say. He'd sort of planned it out, imagined it like in a movie with Charlie waking dramatically just because Tom asked him to. This wasn't a film, but…. He cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry." The words slipped out but they felt right, and he squeezed Charlie's hand again, not too tight but hoping he could feel it, somehow. "I'm not sure what I could've done, but I wish I'd done it. We failed you, and Robin, and…We need you to get better, Charlie, so you better wake up sooner than later, okay mate?" Tom said firmly, blinking rapidly as tears prickled his eyes.
"G-d, you looked - I thought you were dead. But you're not, you're alive. And I —" He cut himself off, before letting go of Charlie's hand. Tom scrubbed at his face, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Steadying himself. When he was calmer, he started again.
"I, erm… I got you some flowers, from the gift shop. Kinda cliche I guess, but
everything else seemed silly. They'll be here when you wake up, and maybe….it'll help, a bit of color when you leave the nightmare behind, yeah?"
It was weird, getting no response, but he could almost hear what Charlie would say, the gently teasing snark.
"Just… wake up soon. It's weird without you." Tom admitted, turning away. As he reached the doorway, he heard a cough. A familiar cough. Hardly daring to believe, he turned back around, and saw Charlie attempting to sit up. He looked panicked.
"Hey, hey, calm down! You're in hospital!" Tom exclaimed, rushing over and pulling the emergency cord beside the bed. Charlie's eyes flashed with recognition, and he reluctantly laid back down, wincing. "Yeah, you're pretty messed up, mate." His friend's forehead creased in a frown.
"You were in a coma." There was an emotion even Tomtom couldn't identify in his words, and he wasn't sure he wanted to inspect it too closely right now.
A slow blink, and Charlie's eyes refocused on Tom's. He moved his hand, a jerky movement and Tom, understanding, took Charlie's hand in his own, careful of his injuries as he did so.
"I'm sure they'll take the tube out soon, and then you'll be able to talk. Probably a lot to say, I bet, 'n questions… gotta wait for the nurse ta get here…"
The corner of Charlie's mouth twitched, and Tom grinned.
"Yeah yeah, I'm running me mouth again. Can't help it, can I?" Charlie's eyes crinkled with amusement. Tom opened his mouth to continue babbling, but before he could say anything, the nurse entered.
"I'll just… tell Jack and Jess you're , they'll insist on visiting, too." Tom said, making his excuses as he backed out the doorway."They'll explain about, y'know…." Tomtom's throat was tight, and and he knew he was practically fleeing. Charlie's eyes tracked him as he left.