AN: Collection of many neglected fics in my sentbox. Trying to get all out of the way so I can quit with relatively few regrets.
The Unkindest Cut
Scotty grinned with triumph as they exited the seedy bar, diamond ring safe in Kelly's pocket. The cocky smile with which Kelly tucked it into his jeans had just improved his day a whole lot.
His smile didn't diminish as he accepted Gino and Sophia's thanks and watched them get onto his scooter; as he headed for their own ride, he looked back at Kelly, lagging behind. "Lead on, MacDuff, as we return the crown jewel to its rightful owner!"
Kelly glanced away. "Certainly," he said, feeling in his pocket. "I..."
His mouth dropped open in outrage. "It's gone!"
"Gone, whaddaya mean, go—" Scotty stared after where the scooter had just disappeared, and slumped wearily, half-wishing for a set of bars to lean on. "Ah, for cryin' out loud!"
Scotty paused, hand on the door handle. "What?"
His partner seemed uncomfortable. "I might just wait a minute." He appeared to notice how bemused Scotty was, because he lowered his voice confidentially. "The guy's an American. He's acting like a… a damned fool. Maybe I'll.. y'know, talk to him."
Scotty rolled his eyes. "You can talk to him later, Don Quixote," he said. The sound of a small motor revving made him turn, in time to see Sophia drive off with her fiancé. "You gonna leave me all alone to chase down the Prince of Thieves?"
"You can handle it." Kelly sounded genuinely distracted. "I gotta… You just go on ahead, all right?"
Scotty turned, leaning back mock-casually against the car. "A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, huh?"
Kelly shrugged, one-shouldered. "Somethin' like that."
Scotty frowned. Something was not right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He was sick of his partner's flakiness popping up at the crummiest times, usually to Kelly's own detriment, and this time, to his own. "Can you not save your Quixotic impulses for some other time?" he asked, not a little irritated.
"Not this time," said Kelly, face shuttered.
Okay, so he's probably got some wrongheaded notion about duty and the flag and the honor of white American soldiers everywhere, Scotty thought disgustedly. Not to mention motherhood and apple pie. And it was misguided, as far as he was concerned: that cat in there wasn't worth saving. "I would not have thought you would desert your partner in his time of need for some dumb fool you don't even know," he began, then stopped. "Wait a minute – do you know him?"
Kelly opened his mouth, closed it.
Scotty straightened up. "Holdin' out on me?"
"Nope," said Kelly tightly, clearly not being straight with him.
"Well, that's just groovy." Scotty didn't feel he was being fair, but he couldn't seem to stop, either. He was just so fed up with this, this little girl he'd envisioned turning out to be a beautiful woman, and engaged yet, and now this curve ball, and all he needed, all he needed, was Kelly flaking out on him. Holding out on him. "Some pal."
Kelly bit his lip, and warning bells went off in Scotty's head. "What…?" He took a step away from the car, the oddness intensifying as the other man turned away a little. "What's the deal between you and him?"
"Just – go get the ring, Scotty," Kelly said, staring down at the cobblestones.
"Shouldn't you tell just tell me now," Scotty took another step towards Kelly, "instead of later when the bullets start flying?"
"They will not start flying. There will be no bullets at all, okay? Now are you or are you not going to go after your daughter?"
He knew Kelly was a private person, but this overt dismissal stung. Kelly had never refused to share quite like this. "Well, go for yourself," Scotty muttered, the phrase echoing oddly in his head, and turned on his heel, grumbling under his breath. "Too much to ask for you to stand by me, ain't it."
He climbed in the car and gunned the engine, glancing in the rearview mirror to see if Kelly would look at him. He didn't; his eyes were resolutely trained on the door. Well, if some renegade, thieving ex-GI meant more to him than his own partner, then… fine. Scotty could certainly manage on his own.
He'd driven halfway round the block when he made a right down a narrow alley, then another right, circling back. Something was off about this whole business, and after all these years, he trusted his instinct. Heck with it. He'd knock some sense into Kelly's head, shake the secret out of him.
The Fiat rolled into the square, Scotty glancing around for any sign of his partner. There – moving carefully behind the building, crouched low. Probably fixing to get in by a back entrance. But why not just walk in the front door, if he was planning to talk some sense into the ex-GI self-styled crime lord?
Parking in the shade and alighting noisily in hopes of being heard, Scotty was disappointed when Kelly kept moving, to all intents and purposes ignoring him. Pretending not to hear, maybe – Kel's ol' ears were pretty sharp, especially on whatever covert mission he was on (without me). He didn't want to yell lest he blow his partner's plan, whatever that was, (much as he'd like to see Kelly jump – it would be only what he deserved) so he stole up behind him stealthily, following his muddy footprints…
Wait. Where would he have picked up any mud on these dusty streets?
He looked closer. It was hard to make out colors in the shadows, but the dark, heavy stuff clogging the footprints of Kelly's loafers wasn't mud, that much was clear. His alarms were going off – how had he managed to sneak up behind his partner without him noticing?
"Hey, man!"Scotty whispered urgently. "What's goin' on?"
Kelly flinched, halting his forward movement,, but didn't straighten up, didn't even look at Scotty.
"I'm talkin' to you, Jack," Scotty hissed, fed up with the man's secrecy. "You gonna answer me," he closed the distance between them and gripped Kelly's arms from behind, hard, going on only half-jokingly, "or do I hafta shake it out of ya?"
As soon as Scotty grabbed him, Kelly let out a strangled gasp. Scotty dropped his arms as if burned, and the moment he was released, Kelly sank quietly to his knees.
"Wh—"
Heart slamming in his chest, Scotty dropped to the ground beside Kelly. He hesitated for a second, hands hovering over his partner's hunched back."What's wrong, man?" He gentled his tone. Had he really been yelling at the guy only seconds ago, when he was clearly injured? "Where…" He had to swallow. "What is it, man? What happened?"
He wrapped an arm round Kelly's back, trying to get him to straighten up, but Kelly hissed and doubled over tighter, hands pressed protectively to his side. Then he turned his head sideways, eyes glassy under his sweat-soaked hair. "…you doin' here?" he breathed.
"Was in the neighborhood, figured I'd… Oh, man…" Scotty eased Kelly downwards to sit on the ground, moving so he supported his upper body, and prised his hands gently away from his side. Scotty's mouth dropped open; the blood-red color of the shirt had hidden it well, but now Kelly's hands were clear, Scotty could see the frayed edges of the ripped shirt sticking up through a viscous, shiny stain, blood steadily sheeting down from a long, deep gash in Kelly's side. In the few minutes since he'd driven away and turned back, it had soaked all down Kelly's pant leg and filled one white loafer, turning it scarlet. How had Kelly gotten wounded, how'd he lost so much blood so fast? Had he been attacked by the ex-GI and his buddies?
And then it hit him: Kelly hadn't gotten wounded in those few minutes he'd been away. He'd been hurt ever since that knife-fight in the bar. The image rose before him of Kelly lounging against the building mock-casually, one hand in his pocket wedging his arm oh-so-naturally between his side and the wall. That's why he wanted me to go on ahead…
Kelly's head drooped forward onto his chest, damp hair falling limply across his brow, face pale even in the shadows. "Sorry…" he whispered.
Scotty felt sick. "For what? C'mon now, Kel." His partner's hands were drifting back down to his bleeding side again; Scotty wasted a second to pat his shoulder and brush aside the hair plastered to his brow. "Time for all good little boys to see their friendly family doctor," he choked out, tearing off his shirt and wadding it up against the gash, flinching as Kelly gasped with the touch. He pulled Kelly more firmly against him. "Sorry, man. Up you go."
Kelly stayed bent over as Scotty pulled him to his feet and walked him awkwardly towards the car, maneuvering him with one arm around his back, gripping Kelly's upper arms tightly and steering. Now what had seemed like a stealthy entrance suddenly made sense. He wasn't walking bent over so no-one could see him, Scotty realized; he was in so much pain he couldn't straighten up.
Scotty got the car door open and eased Kelly down into the seat. Adjusting the makeshift pad, he shivered; it was soaked through already. Still losing blood, far too much, far too rapidly. That switchblade must have caught something major. Yeah, and you stood there yacking at him as he was bleeding out. "Why didn't you tell me?" he muttered. As he closed Kelly's door and ran around to the driver's seat, Scotty repeated the question, a little angry. "All that song and dance about how you wanted to teach that guy a lesson… You just wanted…" What? To get rid of me? Since when? Why?
"You'd…stuff to do." Kelly's voice was very far away. "Di'n't wan'…keep you from your daughter, man."
Scotty froze, chilled to his soul.
He gunned the engine, finding no words, driving like a madman. Didn't wanna keep you from your daughter. Making a sharp right, he scattered a group of startled pigeons, and bumped up the speed a notch, hoping to attract a policeman – it'd get his partner to hospital that much faster.
"Hey, you're gonna land us… back in jail, drivin' like…" Kelly broke off, coughing.
The pained sound cut into Scotty's heart like a knife. "Settle down," he snapped, belatedly realizing how sharp his tone was, and reached over to pat Kelly's knee. "Just take it easy, okay, Chester?"
It was all coming back to him now, how he'd treated Kel, how he'd been treating his partner since the start of this mess – like a third wheel, like an intruder. Taking out his frustrations on Kelly, telling him to butt out, putting the man down the whole time. And ol' Kel had been nothing but a brick throughout it all, giving advice, trying to make him see the light, trying to prevent him from being used – and, when push came to shove, fighting for him, getting hurt for him, and Scotty had been too busy wigging out to even see it. Always wanted a big brother to stand by you, and when you get him, what do you do? Run him off like a debt-collector. Like a darn fool, Mr. Sensible had gotten lost in the dream of having a daughter, giving her everything she wanted, falling for a pair of big brown eyes and trying to help out a smooth-talking thief. He couldn't imagine a sufficient apology, but he owed it to Kel, anyhow.
He chanced taking his eyes from the road for a moment to check on Kelly: slumped against the door, face slack and pasty, fresh blood slowly soaking into the car seat. "How did you think you were gonna hide this from me, anyway?" Scotty muttered, reaching over to hitch his own drenched shirt a little higher, yellow soaked almost completely red now, holding it against the wound. And how had Kelly thought he'd get to a hospital in his condition, anyway? Would he have just stayed there till… He cut that chilling train of thought off sharply. Surely not.
"I never meant to make you feel like you didn't belong or nothin'," Scotty blurted.
Kelly blinked, looked over at him, opened his mouth to say something, and quietly passed out.
They'd told him Kelly would be fine, but apparently hearing it and believing it were two different things. He'd been sitting there for an hour, worrying, his conscience giving him no peace. There hadn't been an awful lot to do once they were at the Pronto Soccorso: Scotty'd just handed in their 'tourist' IDs and moaned about the mysterious assailant who'd tried to rob his friend and been thwarted.
An hour was a long time, and in between cups of quite scandalously good espresso from the machine, Scotty had been bouncing back and forth between being mad at Kelly and being mad at himself. Why, he'd fumed, why had Kelly hidden it from him, why had he pretended there was another reason for staying behind?
Only—the espresso suddenly tasted bitter, like poison, as Scotty realized that he knew the answer to that one, too. And he should have known. His partner was a man who always felt like he didn't belong, like he was somehow intruding, even on his blood kin – and Scotty knew it.
He tossed the coffee in the trash, his stomach twisting. Scotty knew that that was how Kelly felt. And instead of acting like a friend, God forbid, thanking him for that fight he'd gone into willingly, he'd just berated him for getting in trouble. Was it any wonder that Kelly'd elected to keep his injury under wraps, deferring what he saw as unimportant until Scotty got his 'important' stuff done?
Well, he sure remembered what the important stuff was, now. If Mom were here, she'd reinforce that information with a smack upside the head.
"Signor Scott?"
Scotty leapt up from his seat.
A few moments later, he was walking along behind the doctor, barely restraining himself from telling the man to hurry up already. At a stately pace, the white-coated figure led the way through the various doors of the Pronto Soccorso wing, finally opening the door to a treatment room. With some cheery words in Italian, he glided off. But Scotty had already forgotten all about him.
Kelly was lying there – Scotty knew he was going to be okay but he was frighteningly still, frighteningly pale – lying on a gurney with an IV pole over his head, a blood transfusion slowly entering via a drip in his left arm. A bright yellow bulb shone cheerily from above, illuminating his face, throwing the planes and angles into shadow. He looked exhausted, worn out. Scotty looked at the hole where the plastic tube pierced Kelly's flesh, the back of the hand a little bruised, blue vein standing out against pale skin, and swallowed hard. "Hey."
Kelly's eyes flickered blearily open, then squinched shut in the bright light. Scotty hurried to lean over, put himself between Kelly's face and the glare of the bulb. Kelly's eyes opened again, harsh grimace softening as he relaxed in Scotty's shadow, but instead of a welcoming smile, his brow furrowed. "What are you doin' here?"
"Whadda ya mean—Of all the stupid questions, this takes the cake. What do you mean, what am I doin' here?"
The pale face moved back and forth on the pillow. "Wh—what happened with… Why aren't you…Why… are you here?"
But apparently the small movement had made Kel dizzy; he closed his eyes tight and his hand, the one without the IV in it, clutched for the edge of the bed. Scotty laid his hand on top of Kelly's – man, it was chilled – but Kelly didn't turn his hand to take Scotty's, gripping the cold metal rail instead.
"I don't get it, man," said Scotty, too tired to care if he sounded a little hurt. "Where else would I be?"
"Your—daughter, man," Kelly breathed. "An'… Gino… The ring?"
It hurt to hear how thready his partner's voice was. "You sure you oughta be talking just yet, Duke?"
"No, lissen." Kelly forced his eyes open with a visible effort, looking apologetic. "I'm missin'… the ring. It mighta fell out or…"
Scotty rolled his eyes. It just figured. "Or Gino mighta used his light-fingered skills to extricate it from your pocket." He shook his head. "You know, we played this scene before, Homer, but you might have slept through it."
Kelly twitched in bed, then gasped with pain. Scotty leaned over him urgently. "What is it, man? You need something? Should I call a…"
"…no…" Kelly's eyes squeezed shut in frustration. "Gotta go after him. You gotta… Help me up, and…"
Scotty actually laughed out loud before gently reaching out to push Kelly's shoulders back down onto the bed. "Help you up? You need four big guys just to get you to the can, Jack. Cool it. You ain't goin' anywhere."
Kelly flopped back down, shaking his head slightly where it lay on the pillow. "Yeah, maybe. Okay, what are you still doing here? You gotta go…" he subsided, panting, for a moment, "…straighten him out!"
"No, I don't." Scotty gave Kelly's shoulders another little push, then straightened up, careful to stay between the harsh light and Kelly's eyes. "That's – not important, man."
"Not important, not impor—You out of your mind, or…"
"Nope." Scotty just looked at Kelly, desperate to have him understand. "There's other stuff that—that means—" He fell silent. They didn't say these things with words - that wasn't their way, and he didn't think Kelly would appreciate him making the change just now - but he willed it to show on his face as he met Kelly's eyes: Most everything that's important to me in the whole world is right here.
Kelly looked away, the tips of his ears turning red, squaring his jaw. Not quite smiling, but – glowing, definitely glowing. "Mph," he finally said intelligently.
Scotty slipped his right hand between Kelly's good hand and the bedrail, shivering a little at the coldness of the metal, and covered it with his left, pressing it firmly between both of his, chafing a little to drive the chill out, glad to feel the warmth of his own body driving the cold away. "Mm-hmm," he said, eloquent himself all of a sudden.
"Okay," said Kelly, still facing the other way, still half-smiling, "so, you gonna help me up? Go fix this…"
"Nope," said Scotty firmly, "not till we hear from the doctor if you're allowed to move."
"Allowed, what do you mean, allowed? This is—it's not anything, Jack." As if to prove his words, Kelly made to rise.
He bit off a cry. Scotty lunged forward, and just barely caught him in time to ease the impact as he flopped back down onto the bed, unable to hold himself upright. "Oh, nice going, Herman," he muttered. "Nearly busted your stitches there."
"Rub my face in it…" Kelly rasped, his lips grey.
"Not a bad idea at that…" Scotty picked up the towel on the bedside table and blotted away the sweat that had broken out on Kelly's brow. He critically appraised his partner's face – the tiny muscles around his eyes and lips were still pinched with pain, but easing. Worse when he moved, then (like that needed a genius to figure it out) but not so bad when he held still. Laying the towel aside, he took Kelly's hand again – this time, as if to shake on a promise. "I shall make you a deal," he said. "If you wait until this-" he looked critically up at the shiny glass bottle hanging from the IV pole - "this, this decanter of pure and scarlet life's blood has finished emptying out into you, we can see about making like a banana and splitting. Deal?"
"I imagine… it's…" Kelly took in a shuddering breath, "…an offer I can't refuse."
"You are so right." Scotty squeezed Kelly's hand. "'M sorry, Kel," he added after a moment.
Kelly blinked up. "What for?"
And Kelly claimed not to be a saint. "You know what for."
"No, truly, sir… it may be that my mental capacities are reduced, but I do not recall…In any case, there is nothing to be sorry for, just to cover all the bases."
Scotty shook his head slowly. Was Kelly genuinely unaware of the shabby way Scotty'd been treating him? Could he really be thinking it was his due or some other stupid Robinson brain-garbage, not knowing that Scotty had been uptight, no more? Surely he did, but, but—"How come you didn't tell me you were hurt, man?"
Kelly did that thing where he looked at him without looking at him. "It is not as though I have not been injured before… in the line of duty. This hardly registers on the Richter scale."
"You have not been known to hide it from me before."
"Just figured… you had enough on your mind," sighed Kelly.
"So, so you figured what, you'd just bleed out quietly so's not to cause any trouble?" Scotty was surprised to find he was yelling. He saw red, so violently that he turned away from his partner, fisting his hands, pacing the small space. Did Kelly really believe that this was all he deserved after years of friendship, to be left alone to die, to bleed out in a lonely alley? That was it?
He forced himself to think logically. Kelly didn't like admitting he was hurt. That time he'd been stabbed in Mexico – he'd been infected with anthrax, albeit unknowingly, and had put on a huge act just to prove to Scotty that he was fine. But still, this time it was different. That time Kelly had been safe in a hospital, not alone in some anonymous, deserted street. This was – suicidal.
So what else is new?
Clenching his fists tight, Scotty turned back to face Kelly. The pale face and evident exhaustion twisted his gut all over again, but he held firm. "Are you fit enough for a little scientific experiment, sir? Purely hypothetical exercise."
Kelly's eyes narrowed warily. "Anything for science," he said, voice neutral.
"Let us assume that I had not returned to rescue your sorry self," Scotty said, hating the last adjective almost as soon as it was out of his mouth. "What would you have – what steps would you have taken to avoid being one with the Italian paving-stones, attractive as they may be?"
Kelly muttered something.
"What was that? Didn't quite catch it…"
"I said, I hadn't thought that far!"
"Oh, that is just wonderful!" Scotty threw his hands up, knowing he was shouting again but unable to stop himself. "He did not think that far. That is just groovy, that is the grooviest answer I've ever, really, you didn't think that far!" Kelly was, of course, not in the least intimidated by Scotty's outrage; he had set his jaw in that sullen way he had that reminded Scotty of a five-year-old. "Chew on this, Captain America: If you hadn't made it to a phone booth, of which there wasn't any in the square that I could see, and if your GI buddies…"
"…not my buddies…"
"…your GI enemies hadn't rescued you, which they might not have done, being enemies and all, and if there hadn't been any Good Samaritans about…"
"Always… depended on the kindness of strangers…" Kel fluttered his lashes comically and tried to make a dramatic gesture, but stilled, clearly in pain, and damned if that didn't make Scotty madder.
"This is not some stupid joke! Man, I…" Scotty heard a creak beneath his fingers, and looked down to find he was gripping the gurney rail so hard he'd twisted the hinge out of alignment. He made an inarticulate noise and sheepishly tried to push it back into place.
"Vandal," Kelly breathed.
"You cannot," Scotty's voice was even, floating across the surface of the images roiling in his mind's eye, "hide something like this from me."
"Hey, I didn't mean to, Clyde, I…" The ashamed way Kelly's eyes slid away from Scotty's told him all he needed to know, and suddenly the pain in his chest was worse than a bullet, and he knew from bullets. Kel was embarrassed to— after the way I— he didn't want to burden— He wasn't sure I'd—
"Kel, I'm…" The bedrail was creaking again, and Scotty didn't really care. "You listen to me, now. I've been treatin' you worse'n a dog, and I'm sorry, but that don't mean you get to pay me back like—" He swallowed, shaking his head. "I'm always gonna—I'm never gonna not—How could you think that—"
"Okay," said Kelly, still not meeting his eyes. "All right…"
Scotty barreled on as though his partner hadn't spoken. "Where'd you get the idea I wouldn't want to know? I always want to know if you're – if you've, you've busted something or gotten yourself hurt or—Ain't nothing gonna make me not want to know it. And that goes double if I've been making like a, like some kinda spoiled puppydog, or…" The infelicitous turn of phrase caught up with him, and he paused, embarrassed. But Kelly was already grinning.
"Puppydog. Puppydog. Now truly, sir, I would have thought that a Temple man, a Rhodes scholar, would have better metaphorical resources at his disposal, than…"
"Wasn't a metaphor, it was a simile."
Kelly laughed, and winced immediately. Scotty's hands curled around the rail helplessly as he watched Kelly breathe through clenched teeth. "Easy there…" But Kelly turned away to hide his grimace, fingers scrabbling for purchase in the sheet, and Scotty could resist no longer, and took Kelly's hand in both of his, gripping tight as Kelly's hand clasped his own, urgently, anchoring himself. Scotty clasped his hand and rubbed it with his other one, feeling redeemed that Kel trusted him enough to hold onto him through his pain.
Finally, Kelly slumped back against the pillows. He's dog-tired. IV's almost empty, Scotty noted automatically. His anger spent, drained, Scotty looked Kelly full in the face, forcing him to look him in the eye. "As I was saying," he said low, doggedly.
"As… you were saying," Kelly breathed, little more than a whisper.
"Pipe down." Scotty patted the back of Kelly's hand. "Yeah, as I was saying. If there hadn't been anyone around to save you," Scotty said quietly, "and I'd –found you, later, after—" He didn't have to fake the shudder that went through him. "How—how d'you think that woulda made me feel?"
The stricken look on Kelly's face was oddly comforting, like he wasn't alone in this life-raft any more. "Sorry, man… I…"
"You would not do that to me, would you?"
Kelly was too beat to do more than give a small shake of his head on the pillow, those serious eyes looking at him evenly from beneath half-closed lids.
"You almost did, y'know. What have you got to say about that?"
"Sorry?" If there wasn't a sibilant in there, Scotty doubted he'd have heard him, so low was his whisper.
"Nope. You don't get to be sorry this go-round. I'm the one who should be apologizin', takin' it all out on you, like you're some kinda whippin' boy."
A dopey half-smile. Whatever drugs they'd given Kel, they were finally kicking in. "Colorful… turn of phrase…"
"I'm sorry, man. I never meant to… I never meant it, anything, any of it. Know you're on my si… I mean – what you did for – you know, in the bar—uh, I never— uh." He licked his lips nervously. "Nobody ever…"
"Spare me the… dramatics, Fred C…" Scotty had to lean close to make out Kelly's words, borne on a sigh. "…kinda need… my beauty rest…"
Scotty pressed Kelly's hand, already going lax in his grip. "All I need you to do is gimme your word you're not gonna do that to me again. You're not gonna do that to me again, are ya?"
The flicker of Kelly's eyelids might have been assent; but then, between one moment and the next, he was asleep.
If Scotty let go with one hand, he could just reach the light-switch; he snapped off the overhead light, the windowless room immediately plunged into darkness. Resettling his hand over Kelly's, Scotty lowered himself into the chair at his bedside. After a moment, he lowered his head to rest on the mattress, part of his face resting on Kelly's thigh. Warm, he noted. Good.
Finding his eyes sliding shut, Scotty shifted, adjusting his hands around Kelly's, and pillowed his cheek more comfortably against his sleeping partner. Sleeping partner. The sheet crinkled against his face as he smiled.
His last thought as he slipped off into a comfortable doze was that the world could just wait, for an hour or two.