A/N: Just a short little Colby fic. Written for the 2006 Alphafic Challenge on Numb3rsdotcom.
DISCLAIMER: They're not mine…they never will be…sob…
RATING: PG
B is for Big Brother
Colby clenched his teeth and groaned quietly. "Sorry," the doctor said sympathetically. "That's a nasty abrasion. When I'm finished putting these stitches in, I'll get some gauze for that."
Colby nodded, too tired to argue. One more bandage really wasn't going to make a difference. He'd given up hope of hiding his little…incident from his team when he learned he would need six stitches on the side of his head. There was no covering that up.
He took a deep breath and immediately regretted it. "Stupid, Granger," he silently berated himself. "Don't breathe…your ribs don't like that." He opted for short puffs of air. That felt better. Of course, he looked like an idiot, but it was better than crying out every time he took a breath.
Bandaged to the satisfaction of the doctor, Colby eased himself off the table and forced himself to listen to the doctor's care instructions as he shrugged into his shirt. Don't get the stitches wet. Right. Don't drink any alcohol with the pain meds. Check. After nodding in all the right places, Colby finally signed the last paper and hobbled out to his car. Somehow he managed to drive himself home and make it up to his apartment. He unlocked the door, went in, and collapsed on the sofa. He didn't ever want to move again. However, he forced himself up, closed and locked the door, then made his way into the kitchen for a glass of water. He really needed those pills the doctor had given him.
On the way to the cabinet, he ran several cover stories through his mind. He needed one to tell the guys at the office. Car accident? No…that would worry them too much, and it was too easy to prove untrue. A mugging? He cringed. That would not generate a positive reaction. Laughter though? Definitely. He resigned himself to figuring it out later and headed back for the couch with his water. He saw the flashing light on his machine and pressed the 'play all' button, then sunk into the overstuffed cushions with a sigh.
He half-heartedly listened to the first and second messages. His gym membership was up for renewal. The apartment manager wondered if he would mind doing him a favor and looking at the furnace in the basement. It was making weird noises. Colby's ears perked up as the third message began with a small voice saying, "Mr. Colby? It's Ryan." Colby sat up and listened intently. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry! I didn't mean to swing the bat like that! I know you always say to keep my eye on the ball…and…I'm sorry I hit you!" The rest of the message was muffled as the caller was apparently overcome with pitiful sobs. Then the message ended.
Colby instinctively picked up the phone and punched in a number. "Theresa? It's Colby. Yeah. I just got his message. Nah, I'm fine." Colby grimaced and made a mental note not to move that particular way again. "Can I talk to him? Thanks." Colby waited a moment and then began speaking softly. "Ryan? Hi! No, buddy…it's okay. Really, I'm fine! Yeah, it's cool, because I got to get stitches! No…no, it's okay. No! I'm not quitting! Of course not! I promise. Okay? Good. Alright, go to sleep and I'll see you in a couple days, okay? Night!"
Colby hung up the phone and leaned back, smiling. He tossed the cover stories he'd come up with earlier around in his mind. Not a car or surfing accident, for sure. Not a mugging. Getting hit in the head with a bat while being a 'Big Brother' to a nine year old boy with leukemia? Perfect.
END