A/N: Here's a bit longer chapter after the cliffhanger, hope you'll enjoy it :)
Disclaimer: I'm not a medical professional nor an expert in any field lol. This is just a work of fiction aided by a bit of google research on the topics, so if I got something wrong please take it with a grain of salt (but do let me know). Thanks:)
When Charlie took the first step down those stairs, he wasn't sure what to expect. The light from his torch at first showed only a narrow staircase with walls built of solid concrete. It felt like he was descending into a different building, like this wasn't even the part of the original wooden house. Charlie paused for a moment, wondering if he should first go outside and let the others know what he found. But that would take time and then Bill would be all over their find. And he was halfway down the stairs anyway.
So Charlie decided to go on. As he moved the torch, the light showed a room filled with racks. Charlie frowned, trying to make out what was in those racks, trying to see behind the shadows. A chill went down his spine as he caught sight of something familiar. A gun... or rather, several of them.
Charlie took a step forward, not realizing there was one more step and so he was momentarily caught by surprise with the feeling of falling. Cursing, he reached out and made a rather inelegant attempt at righting himself. He ended up stumbling a few feet, but finally he stood still. Catching his breath and thanking God that Hobart or one of the junior constables didn't see his fumble, Charlie finally gave his full attention to the room.
He turned around slowly, letting the light of his torch fall on every rack and wall. By his estimate, the room wasn't all that large... maybe like the kitchen upstairs. One wall was free of anything but an old table with several files and books lying on top of it. There was a chair and a lamp, but Charlie didn't dare to turn it on yet. He took a step closer and read the titles of the books. Old army manuals, war strategies and books about weaponry. The files had names on the top and looked like army files. Charlie carefully opened one of them and scanned the name and the photo. There was a large MIA stamp across it and Charlie let the file slip closed. This would have to wait for later. Preferably until Blake did the autopsy and let them know what really killed the man.
With a sigh, Charlie wandered around the room, making sure he didn't touch anything. There were several pistols and revolvers lying around... army helmets and even several pairs of combat boots. It looked like Marty was preparing for war... this time in his own home.
"Charlie!" he heard his name from the familiar voice.
"Doc?" Charlie stepped towards the stairs so he could look up. He would've thought Blake had already left. But this was good. He could come and take a look right away.
"Can you come out, please?" Blake asked and there was a nervous undertone in his voice.
"Yeah. You won't believe what I found in here, Doc-" Charlie said, suddenly excited to share his find. If anyone would appreciate his detective proves, it would be Blake.
"Just be careful, Charlie-" Blake said as Charlie was already heading upstairs. Charlie wanted to ask what Blake was talking about, he wanted to show him the room and share new theories, when he felt a tug at his right leg and stumbled. Somehow miffed that it was the second time in such a short while that he lost his balance, Charlie let out a curse and looked down. That's when he saw the wire he tripped over, that's when he heard a click and something hitting the floor, rolling. He didn't even need to look really... some inner sense told him it was danger. But he did look and in the next second the torch fell from his hand as he bolted up the stairs, towards the exit.
One
"Charlie?" Blake was still standing there, confused and a startled look adorning his face and all Charlie could think about was that he just maybe killed both of them. And how much time did they have? What was the delay on those things?
Two
"Cover!" Charlie shouted. 'Take cover!' his mind screamed and he saw Blake reached forward, trying to help. Understanding.
Three
Charlie hesitated, he didn't want to pull Blake closer to the danger. But the man wasn't budging and Charlie reached out.
Four
Their fingers almost touched as Charlie was almost at the top of the stairs, almost safe.
Fiv-
Charlie didn't finish counting.
The stairway flashed bright, but Charlie didn't really notice. He felt as if the world's biggest elephant kicked him with huge force right in the back. He felt the pressure reverberate through his bones, blast through his organs and move his body as if it was a simple rag-doll. Charlie saw the world tumble, while two ice picks stabbed him in the ears, making him feel like his brain would leak out right then and there. He wanted to shout but the air was stolen from his lungs. Time had stopped.
Amidst all the chaos, Charlie's eyes caught sight of the top concrete stair. By some miracle, Charlie managed to put out his arm before he could crash head first into the hard edge.
Charlie's life flashed before his eyes.
First memory of his mother as he was reaching up to her from the crib.
First time he saw his baby brother.
First time his dad took him to one of his boxing matches. He was so proud he was big enough to go, so happy it was only him and not his brothers.
A barrage of images all of his family, of his father, of his arrival to Ballarat.
A glimpse of a familiar, yet so long unseen face, waiting somewhere in the distance, beckoning him to come closer.
There was a crack that Charlie didn't hear but he felt it up to his teeth. It was a jolt of pain and he did scream, but it was all lost in the incredible ringing sound as the world seemed to topple down on him.
For a moment he couldn't breathe. Something was squeezing his chest tight.
Breathe!
Charlie's mind screamed at him and as a piece of plaster fell only inches from Charlie's face, his startle reflex kicked in. Charlie took in several breaths, trying not to cough. His whole body was throbbing as if he'd just got a good trashing. Somewhere in the distance... or maybe not even that far... Charlie could feel pops, like muffled gunshots. He didn't really hear them though. He couldn't, not with the damn alarm blasting full force.
What was the emergency? Was there a fire somewhere? Had he overslept for work?
Charlie didn't know. He just knew the sound was making his headache so much worse. He needed quiet and peace, he needed to get some sleep before tackling whatever emergency was on the horizon.
Charlie was almost drifting, ignoring the uncomfortable position his body was laid in or the overall discomfort. He was just so tired. Even though there was a nagging feeling he should maybe get up and find out what the loud ringing noise was about, Charlie felt that if he did that, he wouldn't be able to get the rest he wanted. And for once he wanted to be selfish. After all, if there was some problem, Blake could well enough take care of it himself.
Charlie winced at the thought. Blake. Why... why did he feel like the man was in some sort of danger?
Maybe he should at least open his eyes and look. Just to make sure Blake was safe. Last time he saw him, he was just reaching out towards him...
Charlie tensed and felt his breath catch in his chest.
He was reaching for me...
Charlie opened his eyes, then shut them closed. There was dust everywhere. Sun was shining through a broken window of an unfamiliar room, making the dust look almost like burning embers. Charlie blinked once again, trying to adjust to the light. Trying not to sneeze.
He was lying on the floor... or maybe even below it. That was strange. Charlie's line of sight was equal to the floor... he could see the carpet only inches from his face. He could see shoes lying still further away... he could see shoes moving frantically around. Several pairs of them, moving so fast it made Charlie dizzy. He followed the pair that headed his way and for a moment wondered whether he'll be walked on. It was almost funny... like watching an old mute movie. No sound, except for the piano in the background... which in Charlie's case was replaced by shrill ringing.
The shoes thankfully stopped and Charlie blinked once again. They were familiar... the same as he wore at work. As the owner of the shoes squatted down next to him, he could see it was Bill. His mouth was moving and there was a startled, almost panicked look on his face. Charlie thought this must've been a dream. In what world would Bill Hobart look panicked yet unable to utter a sound.
Or maybe he was speaking, just not loud enough for the sound to get through the veil inside Charlie's mind. He decided it didn't matter really. Bill was here, he could take care of any pressing matter for now. Charlie closed his eyes.
Only to open them wide as pure agony gripped his arm. Or rather, it was Bill.
For some incomprehensible reason, while Charlie was deciding to take a nap, the man reached out and took hold of Charlie's arms. Without any warning, he pulled, moving Charlie's body up onto the carpeted floor of the room.
It wouldn't have been so bad.
If Bill hadn't grabbed Charlie's left arm. The one that must've been shattered to pieces.
At least that's how it felt when Bill pulled. It was like someone crushed his bones and rubbed the raw nerve endings together. Charlie couldn't help it, he screamed. For a flashing moment Charlie wondered how come that not even his scream could pierce through the ringing in his ears, then finally he had fallen into blissfully silent unconsciousness.
oOo
A piercing scream tore him out of past nightmares into the present.
Blake instinctively fought away the helping hands, his mind still partially trapped in a battle. A young copper was leaning over him, his face pale and scared as he was giving him a worried look and trying to keep a safe distance. Blake almost felt bad for it. Almost... until he remembered the pained sound.
„Charlie?" he called out, the words sounding muffled through the ringing in his ears. He shook his head and reached up, relieved to feel no blood on his ears. He could still hear, albeit not as well as he would've liked. But that would pass. Right now he had to get up and help Charlie.
The young cop - Kevin was his name, Blake remembered distractedly, found the courage to once again offer him a hand up. This time Blake accepted it with a slightly embarrassed thanks. He wavered a bit and had to take a second for the room to settle down. The smell of gunpowder and dust made his stomach churn, images from not so long ago popping back up in his mind. Seeing an unmoving body just a few meters away didn't make the nausea go away either.
"Don't... don't move him!" Blake exclaimed when he saw Bill trying to manoeuvre Charlie away from the opening to the room. Hobart looked up with a grim look on his face.
"We don't know what else is in there, it can blow up! The guy had a whole chemistry storage back in the shed."
Blake took that under consideration. He thought that the sounds of shots were just part of his flashback, but based on Bill's reaction, they were all too real. A magazine of bullets must've been too close to the explosion and it went off. Still, he didn't want to risk Charlie having a spine injury.
"If there was something else to blow up it would've already done it," Blake said even as he knelt down next to Charlie's prone form.
Bill had at least managed to get Charlie away from the stairs, but it didn't look like he was in a much more comfortable position. Charlie was lying face down on the carpet, one arm stuck uncomfortably underneath, the other... well. Blake could tell right away it was broken.
Blake could see Charlie was breathing at least, his body moving slightly at each inhale. But he was clearly unconscious. Blake reached out and put his fingers on Charlie's neck, checking his pulse. It was strong, albeit a bit too fast. His hand brushed against something wet and he cringed when he saw blood running down from Charlie's right ear.
"He was awake I think," Hobart said, sounding hopeful and at the same time guilty. "But I moved him before I saw that broken arm. He passed out then."
Blake nodded absentmindedly, hoping that it was indeed just the pain from the broken arm that knocked Charlie out and not some other, more serious injury.
"Did you call an ambulance?"
Hobart nodded.
"Told Simmons to call it in the moment I heard the blast. What the hell happened here, Blake?"
Blake shook his head.
"I think Charlie tripped a booby trap. Possibly a hand grenade. Sounded... sounded familiar," Blake swallowed, thinking it was the same sound the MK 2 made when it malfunctioned and blew up prematurely, still tightly clutched in an unprepared soldier's hand. It wasn't a pretty picture then and Blake could only thank God that Charlie was far away and mostly protected by the walls of the staircase to be pelted with shrapnel. Mostly, he amended with a cringe as he saw one shrapnel deeply embedded in the back of Charlie's right calf.
"Will he be okay?" Bill asked, uncharacteristically concerned about his colleague. "The blood..." he pointed towards his own ear and Blake understood.
"It... it might be just a ruptured eardrum." He really hoped that was the case. Eardrums could heal. If there was bleeding inside his brain, that would be much worse.
Blake ran his hands over Charlie's back, visually inspecting for any more shrapnel and feeling for any deformations, any breaks. He made extra sure to check along his spine. Once he was satisfied, he looked at Hobart.
"I'll need your help. We need to turn him, but carefully. Kevin?"
"Yes doctor?" the young cop asked eagerly.
"Grab... grab some pillows and blankets if you can. We will need to raise his legs a bit, especially the wounded one."
"On it," Kevin was gone before Blake even finished talking. Bill let out a sigh, clearly not having the energy to deal with the rookie.
"Where's Marty's son?"
"Waiting outside with Simmons. I didn't want any civilian inside in case this place could blow up."
"Good thinking," Blake agreed, looking at Charlie's broken arm with a grimace. He was sure turning Charlie around would hurt like hell, so having him unconscious was maybe a relief. But at the same time Blake wished Charlie was awake and alert, even though he realized it was selfish. He wanted to make sure the kid was alright.
Kevin was back in a minute and Blake promptly instructed both him and Hobart where to take hold of Charlie and how to move him. When they were all in place, Blake gave a simple nod and they moved as one. Charlie was swiftly but carefully rolled first onto his side then back, so that the trapped arm beneath him could be freed. Blake made sure to move his broken arm as gently as possible, but he could sense the moment Charlie jolted back into consciousness. There was a gasp and tensing of muscles.
„Charlie?" Blake asked, but Charlie's eyes were tightly shut, his face scrunched up in a grimace of pain. Blake gently put down the injured limb on a pillow Kevin brought, then nodded at Kevin to put the bunched up blanket under Charlie's legs, raising them so that the wound in Charlie's leg didn't touch the ground. Bill was putting pillows around Charlie's head so that he couldn't move around, while resting one hand on the younger man's shoulder, to stop him from trying to get up.
Situation mostly under control, Blake could do his inspection. He saw a bruise on Charlie's cheek, probably as he had hit the stairs, but no other visible injury.
"Thank you, Kevin. Could you perhaps go and check the situation with the ambulance?"
Kevin shot a look towards Hobart but after a stern nod quickly left.
"Charlie? Can you hear me?" Blake asked and gently tapped Charlie's cheek. "Come on, open your eyes."
Charlie didn't react to the words, but the moment Blake's hand touched his face, his eyes blinked open.
"There you go," Blake said with a smile. Charlie frowned, his breathing speeding up a bit.
"Doc?" he asked, then his eyes grew wider and he tried to reach up towards his head in panic. He let out a pained gasp as he automatically wanted to use his injured left arm.
"Try not to move," Blake said a bit too late. "Your arm is broken, but you will be fine," he continued, seeing the growing panic in Charlie's eyes and trying to stop it.
"Doc? I... I can't hear you!" Charlie said in what was almost a whisper. "I can't hear myself," he added, his voice breaking as the reality of the situation dawned on him.
oOo
Blake's lips were moving but Charlie couldn't make out the words. All he heard was the persistent ringing and buzzing. His head hurt, but it was nowhere as bad as when the blast went off. The pain in his ears and inside his head that moment was something he would never forget. But it was nothing compared to the fear that gripped his innards at the thought that he might've just lost his hearing and his job at the same moment. Just the thought of losing his independence like that... his career... made him want to curl up in a ball and cry. He could feel hot tears springing into his eyes, but even if he couldn't hear he was aware of Hobart squatting by his side and Blake... still talking.
Charlie blinked away the tears, breath hitching as he tried to make sense of it all. He remembered the blast, he remembered seeing Blake being flung backwards. But the man was leaning over him now, ruffled and a bit dusty, definitely worried looking, but without a scratch on him. At least some relief.
"Doc, I can't hear you," Charlie repeated, knowing he probably sounded scared but unable to change it. Blake stopped talking, a look of frustration quickly passing through his face. Then he pointed to his lips and slowly and a bit too strongly pronounced Charlie's name.
Charlie blinked and tried to take a calming breath.
Read my lips, the Doc mouthed and Charlie gave a small nod. Blake smiled.
Good.
Now calm down.
That was easier said than done, Charlie thought and once again tried to reach up to his head, this time using his good arm. Blake let him, only stopping him when he touched his right ear and felt something wet. Charlie swallowed.
"Ears?" he asked rather loudly, at least if the wince of both men was any indication. He couldn't help it... he wanted to scream, as loud as his throat would allow, just to see if he could hear anything.
Can be temporary, Blake mouthed and Charlie felt his heart skip a beat. He felt like a little kid, wanting to ask Blake for reassurances, to make the Doc promise that it'll be alright and his hearing would come back. But he bit back the desire and tried to take Blake's words at face value. Okay then. His hearing might come back. He would have to believe that until Blake didn't say something else. No reason to fret. And no reason to lie around like an invalid either.
"Up?" he asked, aware that his volume control was shot to hell, so the least he could do was speak as little as possible to keep himself from shouting at everyone. Charlie didn't really wait for a reply and he raised his head from the floor, turning a bit to his right, ready to use his uninjured arm to push himself up.
But before he could manage much more, Blake put a restraining hand on his chest and pushed him back. Charlie relented. Not because he couldn't have forced Blake off, but because even the slight move made his head spin. He had to close his eyes and take in several deep breaths to try and stave off the nausea. He knew he must've made some sound of discomfort, because Blake's hand was back tapping on his cheek, demanding attention. Charlie blinked, but quickly closed his eyes. The room still seemed a bit wobbly.
There was more nudging from Blake, until finally his patience seemed to give up. Charlie felt his eyes pried open and grimaced, finally complying and looking straight up at Blake.
"Dizzy," he muttered and was rewarded by a nod. It was obvious that Blake wanted to say more, but knew that right now Charlie couldn't really focus on reading his lips. Not without risking getting sick and Charlie didn't want to imagine how much fun that would be in his current state.
Rest.
Charlie sighed. He wanted to protest, because there was no reason he should be lying on the floor of a dead man's house while everyone else had work to do. He should be up and around, trying to figure out just why the hell did the man have a whole arsenal stored in a hidden room... and whether it was the reason why he was now dead.
Instead he was nursing a broken arm - his left one - and won't that be just fun when writing reports or doing just about anything? But the thought was pushed away by the nagging worry that maybe he won't need to write the reports any more, if his hearing didn't return.
Charlie tried to move the fingers on his left hand. The jolt of pain shooting all the way up to his shoulder at the attempt gave him at least a partial relief from his dark thoughts. No... he wouldn't think about the worst. Right now... right now he needed to find the strength to get up and get off this damn cold floor. He didn't want to be a spectacle. He didn't want to keep Blake or Hobart from their work anymore. Maybe one of them could just drive him to the hospital to get patched up, then he could go home, curl up in his bed and pretend the world didn't exist for a day or two. Pretend his head wasn't full of angry bees buzzing around and the incessant ringing.
He was making up the courage to once again attempt to get up and opened his eyes, only to see more people moving around. He blinked in confusion and a bit of a startle. He couldn't see Hobart anywhere, but Blake was still there, his hand still resting on Charlie's shoulder in reassurance, even as he was busy talking to the two other men. Charlie recognized the uniforms and if nothing else, the stretcher was a clear sign these were medics.
"I'm fine," he uttered, which got him a glance from Blake and a small pat on the shoulder, but it didn't seem to deter the medics from leaning down and without much fuss moving him over to the stretcher.
Charlie grit his teeth as pain shot through his whole body. Only then did he realize there was something wrong with his leg as well, but it didn't matter. The pain from a jostled broken arm and the nausea at the sudden move had overpowered all other sensation.
As the stretcher was picked up and he was carried out of the house into the bright sunny day, Charlie closed his eyes tight and wished for sweet unconsciousness. Anything but the feeling of disorientation that overwhelmed him. It was like being stuck onboard of a ship in the middle of a storm, but instead of the rush of water he was attacked by the sound of angry bees and bells.
The ride in the ambulance was pure hell. The movement of the car was only contributing to his nausea and every bump on the road sent spears of pain through his arm. At one point Charlie panicked when he opened his eyes and all he saw was a stranger leaning close to him, mouth moving. Charlie looked frantically around the ambulance, searching for the one person he could trust. But Blake wasn't there and everything was spinning. Charlie moaned, his one good hand clenching into a fist. That's when the medic tapped his arm. As soon as he got Charlie's attention, he pointed outside of the car and tapped the wall of the ambulance. Charlie frowned in confusion until he managed to read the man's lips.
'He's following.'
For a second Charlie felt like an idiot. Then came the relief. Charlie didn't trust the doctor's at the hospital all that much, he definitely wasn't a fan. But if Blake was there, he was safe. He sagged back on the stretcher and tried to focus only on his breathing. In and out. Nothing else.
When they arrived at the hospital, Charlie was aware only of the orchestrated chaos. At least that's how he thought of it as each time he opened his eyes there was someone else moving around, checking things, prodding him. Each time he saw a different person Charlie startled a bit. Unable to hear their approach, unable to keep his eyes open to follow the situation because of the dizziness, Charlie had to give up trying to make sense of what was going on. The only constant was Blake, always there to offer support.
At long last Charlie felt a prick of a needle in his arm and soon after the pain abated.
It didn't make the buzzing or the nausea go away, if anything the room seemed to be spinning more and more, but as the pain dulled, Charlie finally managed to fall asleep. Before he succumbed to the drugs, his eyes opened to slits and he caught sight of Blake. The man was standing by the foot of his bed, talking to another doctor, but must've sensed Charlie's eyes on him. He turned and gave him a reassuring smile.
'Sleep, Charlie.'
So he did.
oOo
Lucien thought he could handle this. After the medics arrived and Charlie was bustled into an ambulance, Lucien followed in his own car. He turned the radio full blast, ignoring the looks of some people as he passed them by during the ride. He needed to push back the noises that were battling inside his mind. The shots and explosions, the screaming of fallen soldiers. The radio did its job and Lucien turned it off only once he arrived at the hospital, right behind the ambulance.
What followed was a bit of a blur. Blake was happy to see that the admitting doctor at the emergency was one of the more competent ones. The nurses were great as well, even though Blake would have preferred to have Mattie there. He felt a jab of nostalgia hit him at the thought of Mattie. His emotions seemed to be all over the place as he noted when the x-ray technician jostled Charlie's arm, causing him to cry out in pain. Blake growled at the man, giving him a death glare. The technician looked more confused than scared but he did apologize. Blake didn't care. He saw Charlie's wide blue pain filled eyes roam across the room in panic and he was sure to catch his sight.
Blake was amazed to see how simply seeing him there made Charlie calm down. He wasn't sure he deserved that much trust, but this wasn't the time to question it. So he ignored everyone trying to get him to leave the room and get checked out or just give them space, until at long last Charlie finally succumbed to the pain and the drugs.
"Dr. Blake, please, let us handle this," Dr. Brett, the one admitting Charlie spoke. "Your friend is out of danger and fast asleep. Let the nurses clean him up and settle in a room. You can sit with him later on if you wish."
Blake looked at the doctor, then at Charlie. Brett was right. Charlie was out cold and the nurses were trying to comb the dust and plaster from his hair and clean his face with a wet towel, while trying to get past Blake. He was in the way and making them nervous. Not to mention... any imminent danger was gone. He would better serve if he left them to work in peace.
With a nod, Blake gave one last assessing look Charlie's way. He looked peaceful, the pain lines momentarily gone from his face, along with plaster and soot. Not at all like the screaming soldier clutching at the stump of his arm left behind after that grenade exploded.
Blake blinked, wavering a bit.
For a second, the hospital had vanished and he was back on the field, surrounded by the enemy and death.
"Doctor Blake? Are you alright?" Brett was holding him up by the arm, giving him a concerned look.
Blake swallowed and nodded.
"Yeah. I just... need some air. You're right. I'm just in the way."
With those words, Blake left the room in a hurry. He stumbled through the corridors, jerking as somewhere a bedpan clattered to the floor, a wife wept for her husband. He ignored the looks of concern from the nurses he passed or even a friendly question. All that mattered was to get out, get somewhere quiet, smell the fresh air. Anything but the disinfectant and smell of sickness that filled his nostrils.
As soon as he left the hospital building, Blake veered towards the nearest bench. He sat down heavily, for a moment just gasping down the precious air. He heard the birds singing, heard cars passing by, people chatter. But none of it was enough to push past the ringing in his ears, the wail of a siren announcing more bombs falling down. A cry of a child nearby changed into the cry of a soldier and Blake leaned over, burying his face in his hands, trying to push away the sounds, push away the memories.
He was so lost in his nightmare that he didn't notice the approaching footsteps until a hand touched his shoulder. Blake startled and looked up, straight into the slightly panicked face of his old friend.
"Lucien! My God. Charlie... is he...?" Matthew Lawson stood there, fear and worry plain in his eyes.
Blake frowned, finally getting control over his breathing.
"What?" That's when he realized how this must've looked like, Lawson finding him in such state outside the hospital. "No. No... Charlie is alright," Blake hastily said, giving Lawson's arm a pat. "He's alright."
"Then what in hell's name is wrong?" Lawson burst out angrily, then sat down on the bench next to Lucien.
Blake blinked, unsure what to say. As a doctor, he knew what was happening to him. Flashbacks triggered by the blast. As a person though... he just felt as if he was going crazy. And no amount of trying to convince himself that the smell of gunpowder wasn't real could help with that. So he straightened up, ran a shaky hand over his hair, ignoring the feel of dust on his fingers and told a lie.
"It's nothing. "
"You're shaking and looking like you've just seen a ghost. It's definitely not nothing."
"Drop it, Matthew. Please."
Matthew looked at him, then with a sigh he nodded.
"How's Charlie?"
„He was lucky. If he had stayed in the room when the grenade went off... the damage would be much worse." Blake shook his head, pushing away the images of bodies littered with shrapnel.
„Jesus," Lawson sighed. „Bill said that there was still some shrapnel that hit him?"
„Right calf. It went deep and there's some damage, but it should heal fine. Same with the broken arm."
"What about the head? Bill was rather... well." Lawson grimaced and Blake wondered if Bill was so worried, why he didn't tag along. Lawson saw the question in his eyes. "He's still at the scene, securing the house and the yard with the fire brigade. We are waiting for a pyrotechnic, just to be safe. The shed in the yard was filled with volatile chemicals."
Blake cringed, then thanked God they weren't all blown to smithereens.
"How in the hell did he get his hands on all of that?"
Lawson shrugged.
"We're looking into it. The son said that he brought some of the guns back from the war... some he bought from other soldiers years later. As for the chemicals, they can be purchased for gardening as you know."
"Yes. Crazy as that may be," Blake sighed, running a hand over his face and noting with dismay that it was shaking.
"So... Charlie is gonna be fine, yeah? I don't have to go looking for any new pupil to train in?"
Blake hesitated and Lawson caught that. His eyes squinted.
„Lucien?" he growled.
"He has some trouble with his hearing, though that's no surprise. It should return in few days or weeks... before he's out of the cast anyway."
"But there's a chance he will lose his hearing?" Lawson frowned. He knew how big of a deal that would be for Charlie... for any cop really.
"We will see in the next few days or weeks. It might heal by itself, or need a patch. He can suffer from partial hearing loss or be totally fine. I don't know, Matthew. It needs time."
Matthew nodded.
"Does the kid know?"
"He knows something's wrong, but there was really no time to try and explain it to him. I'll have to tell him somehow once he wakes up." Which reminded Blake that he had wallowed long enough and that maybe it was time to return inside. He was about to get up, but Lawson grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the bench. Blake gave him a questioning look and Lawson shook his head.
"No. Not like this. You need to go home."
Blake frowned.
"I'm not leaving Charlie to wake up alone in this situation."
"He won't be alone. Either me or Rose will be there. But you need to go home and take care of yourself first."
"I'm fine," Blake protested and Lawson snorted.
"Frankly, you don't look it. And if Charlie sees you this way, he will have a hard time believing he's not dying."
Lawson pointed towards Blake's shirt sleeve, which was covered in dust and blood.
"Go home. Shower. Sleep. Hell, get drunk off your ass, I don't care. Just don't show up until you get your head straight on, alright?"
Blake wanted to protest. His head was firmly attached to his neck, thank you very much, if nothing else, the pulsating headache was evidence enough. But there was also the sound of ringing and the crawling feeling of danger that was still permeating his body. The slight shaking of limbs, the feeling that any moment Ballarat would vanish to be replaced by a gloomy war field or an intermittent camp was just too much. Blake shuddered at the thought of sitting still in a hospital room, waiting for Charlie to wake up. The smell alone would probably trigger another flashback.
So instead of telling Lawson to go stuff himself, Blake nodded.
„Make sure he doesn't panic... yeah?"
Lawson raised an eyebrow.
"What... with my calming presence by his side?"
Blake snorted, a small smile quirking his lips.
"Do you need a ride home?" Lawson asked all serious.
"No, thanks. I've parked my car somewhere near," Blake said, already looking for the familiar Holden, spotting it near the ambulance bay. He grimaced at the thought of getting a ticket for that, but alas, sometimes it paid off being the police surgeon.
"Are you sure you're fit to drive?"
"Of course," Blake stood, straightening his jacket. "I'm fine."
"If you say so," Lawson muttered, sounding all but convinced. He also stood up and cast a look towards the hospital.
"Tell Charlie I'll be back shortly," Blake said. Lawson nodded.
"Take your time. I'll call if there's any change."
"Thank you, Matthew," Blake said, patting his friend on the shoulder then headed for his car before he could change his mind.
oOo
The ride home passed in a haze and Blake was frankly surprised when he parked the car in front of his house without an accident. He was less surprised as he walked inside the house and was confronted by Jean.
"Lucien! What on earth happened? Are you alright?" she rushed out towards him, her eyes sweeping his form, pausing at the dirty clothes. Blake for all his usual verbosity couldn't come up with a better answer than: "What?"
Jean's eyes narrowed and she reached out, touching his face and possibly wiping off some dust. At least Blake hoped it was dust and not blood. He looked at her and saw her face full of concern but also anger simmering under the surface and it gave him a bit of a jolt.
"How did you know?" he asked and Jean stepped back, arms crossed over her chest.
"Matthew just called. Thank God for that. At least someone thought about letting me know, before I was hit with the gossip about a house blowing up with some cops and a doctor inside!" There was the anger and Blake winced.
"I'm sorry, Jean. I was busy with Charlie and then..." Blake shook his head. "I wasn't really thinking."
Jean's eyes and whole posture softened and just like that the anger seemed to simmer out of her. Blake understood that the outburst was mostly caused by the worry and he couldn't begrudge her for that. After all, he did the same thing back at the hospital. Not to mention if anything was to happen to Jean and he wouldn't be told right away... he took a step closer to her, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to have her in his arms. Jean understood and let him wrap her in a hug, for a moment closing his eyes and just taking in the smell of her shampoo. It was so much better than the smell of gunpowder and blood.
"I'm sorry, dear," he muttered.
"What for?" she enquired and Lucien realized that might've been a trap but he replied anyway.
"Scaring you like that," he said and got a small nudge.
"And?" Jean pressed.
"For not informing you?" Blake said, although it was more of a question.
"That's right. Now come and sit down, I'll make you some tea and toast and you can tell me what happened. And how is Charlie."
"Haven't you talked with Matthew?" Blake frowned. The man should've known how was Charlie doing at the moment. He was supposed to stay with him after all... and not go tattling to Jean.
Jean just rolled her eyes.
"Matthew knows only what you told him. And Charlie is still sleeping," she added as she led him towards the table. Blake meekly followed.
He spent the next ten minutes explaining Jean what happened, while sipping at his tea and trying to swallow down some cookies. While he usually loved Jean's cookies, these tasted like cardboard. Though Blake was sure it was just him. Even the warm tea didn't do anything to chase away the shaking of his hands, so he just clutched at the cup and hoped that Jean wouldn't notice. Of course she did.
"Matthew was right," she sighed and took the empty cup from his hands.
"About what?" Blake looked up, confused.
"You need to get some rest."
This time it was Blake whose eyes narrowed.
"I'm bloody fine!" he snapped. Jean turned, a raised eyebrow the only reaction to his outburst. Blake instantly felt bad.
"You know I'm not a fan of this double-teaming you and Matthew have going."
"Unless it's you and someone else double-teaming against me or Charlie, right?" she said with a smirk and Blake snorted.
"As if that ever happened."
Jean pursed her lips and Blake had the decency to look away. He cleared his throat.
"I think I'll take that shower everyone is so fond of mentioning." Blake stood, then sighed. "Damn, didn't I have some patients scheduled for this afternoon?"
"Three. Mrs. Eileen was here and a bit displeased but I bribed her with cookies. She'll stop by tomorrow afternoon. When you didn't appear I knew something had happened, so I called the next two patients and rescheduled them as well."
"You're a godsend," Blake said with a smile and gave Jean a quick peck on the cheek.
She just rolled her eyes.
"You better remember that next time you forget phones exist," she muttered then shooed him out of the kitchen.
oOo
Blake thought the shower might help. The hot water gave him momentary relief from the ringing in his ears but each time he closed his eyes all he saw was the young soldier with the missing hand and shrapnel littering his body. The boy didn't survive long, despite Blake's attempt at help. What was worse, he wasn't the only one hit. Only a few meters further was his comrade and it took Blake a precious minute to realize that he was hit as well. There was really no choice... the boy without the arm was close to death. Blake still didn't want to leave him alone. Pale blue eyes looked at him pleadingly, filled with pain and terror until all the recollection faded away. Blake could hear the soldiers around him calling for his attention as the other one was fighting for his life, a shrapnel caught in his neck, the gurgling sound the only sign he was still alive. Blake still couldn't leave the kid alone. He grabbed the nearest soldier and pulled him down into the mud, practically pushing the dying soldier into his arms.
"Stay with him!" Blake barked and feeling like a coward left to try and save the other one.
That day both man died on the field... because of a faulty grenade. And Blake couldn't do a thing about it... except run his fingers over their faces and close their eyes, so they didn't have to keep looking at the destruction around. They were not the first casualties of the war that Blake had the misfortune of seeing. Nor were they the last.
"Bloody hell!" Blake cursed and jumped, startled. The water in the shower had run cold. Blake turned it off quickly and stepped out, cursing as he was trying to towel off with shaking hands. So much for warming up and stopping the shaking.
He reached for his clothes and realized there was a fresh pair of them lying on the stool by the door. Sometimes during his walk through the past Jean must've lurked in.
Blake felt a blush creep onto his face. Not at the idea of Jean peeking in, but at the possibility that she might've caught sight of him in such a state... lost in his past. Shuddering, Blake dismissed the thought. If Jean had seen him, she would've said something surely.
Once he put on fresh clothes, pausing at the smell of them, he headed for his office. Lying down might've been a good idea, but sleep was the last thing Blake wanted to do. No, he needed distraction. He needed to think about the case, about anything else but the blast in the library or the panicked look in Charlie's pale blue eyes.
A shiver ran down his spine.
Blake crossed the office and headed straight for the liquor cabinet. A bit of whiskey might take care of the blasted shaking. And maybe afterwards he could stop by at the morgue and lend Alice a hand in the autopsy. Yes, that sounded like a great plan.
Blake poured himself a full glass and without a flinch downed half of it. The liquid burned its way down his throat, chasing away the taste of dust. The heat reached his stomach and spread into his bloodstream, through his veins. Lucien finally relaxed and sat down in the chair. One more glass and he would be ready to face the world. One more glass and maybe the ghost of the blue eyed soldier would vanish from the corner of his room.
oOo
The buzzing was driving him crazy. Charlie just wanted it to stop, to be granted a moment of peace before he had to wake up and face the world. But the sound was relentless and Charlie moved his hand. Was there a pack of bees nearby? His face scrunched up in a frown. Maybe he left the window open and something flew in... maybe Blake was doing one of his crazy experiments and messed up the new vacuum so that the engine gave off this awful sound. Charlie groaned and turned to his side. Or well, he attempted to, with the intention of pulling the blanket over his face and stifling the sound with a pillow. But the usually easy movement caused him to let out a gasp. Things hurt. Charlie froze mid motion, teeth gritted and eyes snapping open.
He wasn't at home.
The room he was in was dim, the only source of light from a bedside lamp and from the door with the glass pane. Charlie was only partially turned but he sensed that it was dark outside. Probably the middle of the night.
"What..." he asked but paused. He knew he spoke out loud. He could hear the word resonate inside his head, but his ears... they felt at the same time stuffed with cotton wool and rubbed raw. There was a strange pressure that was almost painful and that seemed to be closely connected with his headache.
Now Charlie realized what really woke him up. Not just the buzzing sound... which was still present... but also the pain. His back hurt as if someone had trampled over him. With a grimace, Charlie tried to finish his move and turn to the side to relieve the pressure on his back, but had to stop once again. The move had awoken the pain in his leg and he also became aware of the arm and the heavy, cumbersome cast. There was no way he could get into a comfortable position anytime soon it seemed.
Giving up, Charlie let himself sink back into the hospital bed. Yes, he was in a hospital... after blowing up a house. His memories had returned rather quickly even though Charlie wished they could've stayed hidden just a moment longer.
Charlie let out another groan, one hand reaching up towards his head to assess the situation. There was no bandage there, which was a good sing in his opinion. On the other hand... he brushed his fingers against his right ear, then snapped them.
Nothing.
Charlie swallowed down the sudden nausea. There was no sound... or not loud enough to penetrate the cotton inside his head. Charlie bit at his bottom lip and tried again, this time on the left side. He thought maybe he heard something, but that could've been just the beat of his own heart. He heard that at least, loud and clear. Charlie snapped his fingers again. There. Was it a sound? Or was it just the movement of the air he felt?
Charlie closed his eyes, focusing only on the sounds.
He snapped his fingers the third time... then yelped.
Someone had just grabbed his hand.
Charlie's eyes shot open, breathing quick as he looked at whoever managed to get this close without him noticing. He blinked as his eyes focused on the familiar face, then let out a sigh of relief.
"Boss?" he asked in disbelief. "What're you doing here?"
Matthew Lawson was standing next to his bed, Charlie's arm still in his grip until Charlie relented and let his hand fall back to his side. Lawson's mouth moved and Charlie could've sworn he caught at least something... a hint of a voice? A tone?
Charlie frowned and shook his head.
"I... I can't hear you," he said and it felt like the hardest thing to admit.
Lawson didn't seem surprised, he just winced a bit and looked towards the door as if checking if someone wasn't coming in. But the door stayed still and Lawson turned back. His hand moved in a gesture that clearly meant 'lower the volume'.
Charlie blushed. He didn't realize he was speaking loudly. He was just trying to compensate and make sure Lawson understood him. But now he felt as if he was making a fool of himself instead. So he bit at his lip and gave a small nod.
Lawson sighed, then spoke his name.
"Sorry," he muttered or maybe even whispered. Lawson didn't protest this time so Charlie supposed he used a silent enough voice.
'That's okay,' Lawson mouthed and Charlie gave a small nod. He was trying to focus on Lawson because he didn't want to miss whatever the man was here to say. But at the same time he just had to look around, eyes searching for another person.
There was no one else. Charlie couldn't help the pang of disappointment and worry he felt inside his chest.
"Blake?" he asked and hoped his voice didn't shake.
'Home,' Lawson mouthed then paused. It was clear he wanted to say more but wasn't sure how well Charlie could follow. Charlie understood his reluctance to speak, but he also needed answers because the last clear memory of Blake he had was the moments before the explosion. Everything afterwards seemed to be a blur. Charlie knew that Blake was alive, that he was possibly in better condition than himself, but that was about it. And the fact he wasn't there to explain things let Charlie know that something was wrong.
"Is he okay?" Charlie asked with a frown.
Lawson nodded with only a slight hesitation.
"Boss?" Charlie pressed and he could just imagine the sound of Lawson's sigh.
'Not hurt,' Charlie read the lips and let out a relieved sigh. While that was a somehow evasive answer, right now it would have to be enough. There was no way Charlie could focus enough to pressure Lawson for an explanation.
"What's the time?"
Lawson looked at his watch and seemed a bit surprised himself.
'Ten.' He muttered something, but Charlie didn't catch it. Well, at least it explained the darkness and why Blake was home. It was late enough to be hanging out at the hospital with someone who wasn't actively dying. Which begged the question...
"Why're you here, boss?"
Not that Charlie was complaining. He shuddered at the mere thought of waking up without a familiar face around to let him know what happened.
Lawson just shrugged, then mouthed: 'Blake' as if that explained everything.
"You were just worried, right?" he asked, trying to ease the mood. Because there was nothing better than to hassle the boss in the middle of the night in one's hospital room after screwing up at the job. Lawson's frowning face was an answer enough.
'Watch it, Davis,' Lawson said and Charlie grinned. Maybe he could hassle the man a bit more, make him admit he cared at least. If anything, he could always use the excuse of being under the effect of pain medication.
Or maybe not. His left arm was throbbing and Charlie moved, trying to take some pressure off of his back. He must've pulled a muscle or ten when he was thrown against the stairs by the blast... he just couldn't find a comfortable position.
Charlie wasn't aware that he made any sound but he must've, because Lawson tensed and put a hand on his shoulder to stop him from moving around.
'You okay?'
Charlie blinked, confused by the sudden worry in the man's eyes. Maybe he just imagined it.
"Yeah, boss," he answered, hoping his voice didn't give away the lie. But Lawson wasn't a cop for his friendly mug. His eyes narrowed in warning. He said something but all Charlie caught was the word 'nurse'... or was it 'curse'? Seeing as Lawson was turning to leave, it was probably the first. Charlie reached out with his good hand and stopped the man.
"Boss!"
Lawson looked at him, the worry now clear.
"I'm fine." He wasn't sure why he said that. In truth, the idea of getting some drugs to stop the pain and help him sleep sounded rather nice. But at the same time, he didn't want to fall back into the dark void. Or worse. Be left alone with his treacherous mind.
Lawson had a doubtful look on his face, but didn't leave at least. Instead he pulled the chair he was occupying earlier closer to Charlie's bed and sat down.
'Few more minutes. Then I'm leaving.'
Charlie understood that. The buzzing got a little bit stronger and his headache was making it harder to focus on Lawson's face, but as the man sat so close, Charlie thought he could almost make out the tone of his voice. Almost.
It gave him hope. He still didn't dare to ask though.
"Was... was anyone else hurt?"
Lawson shook his head.
"Thank God," Charlie muttered and noted the deepening frown on Lawson's face. The man pointed at him, almost angrily, then at his casted arm and raised an eyebrow as if in challenge. Charlie knew it was a reproach, and he was quite sure that if his hearing returned, he will get his ears chewed off. He could already imagine Lawson calling him an irresponsible fool for going down there without notifying anyone, for triggering the explosion...
"I'm sorry, boss," Charlie said and he meant it. His gut was telling him back there to turn and call for the others. But then... maybe someone else would've triggered the trap while there were more people in the bunker. Charlie didn't even want to imagine the damage that could've caused. He knew the only reason he was alive and still with his limbs more or less intact was because he was on his way out and there was no one in his way. If he'd stayed in the small room... Charlie shuddered, then winced at the pain the small movement caused in his muscles.
'We'll talk about it later,' Lawson promised.
Charlie couldn't wait. He sighed.
"The case?"
'No news and you're off duty,' Lawson said, though there was a smirk on his face that said he wouldn't tell Charlie even if they'd already solved it. Just a bit of petty revenge for the night. Charlie almost rolled his eyes, then grimaced. Yes, he was most definitely off duty. Even if his hearing miraculously returned overnight, the cast on his left arm would keep him off the street... even off desk duty, seeing as it was his writing hand.
Charlie felt a sudden sense of sadness and dread. He was practically useless at the moment. He couldn't work... couldn't offer any help. What was worse, if his current state was anything to go by, he would actually need some help himself.
The dawning realization must've shown on his face because Lawson gave him a questioning look and tapped his shoulder, trying to catch his attention.
'Alright?'
Charlie shrugged, too tired to try and lie. Lawson shot a look towards the door, but the corridor was still empty. He seemed a bit disgruntled by that. He looked as if he was wondering whether to try and somehow console Charlie or go for the nurse.
"It's okay, boss," Charlie said, obviously startling him. "Just hate being laid up."
At that, Lawson snorted then pointed to his own limp leg, as if to say 'you're telling me?'
Charlie had the decency to look away in embarrassment. Of course. How could he forget the leg? After all, Lawson got hurt because of him. And what for... only for Charlie to screw up a few years later and end his own career by going deaf?
Charlie was quickly spiralling down a dark path of thoughts, exactly what he was worried about if left alone. But he wasn't alone yet. Lawson reached out and softly tapped his cheek.
'Hey. Stop it!' The order was clear and Charlie took in a deep breath, realizing he was working himself up. In the presence of the man he didn't want to lose the respect of. Just great.
He muttered another sorry, getting a shake of head in reply and a sigh.
'You need sleep. As do I.'
Charlie bit at his bottom lip, then gave a reluctant nod. There was no reason to keep Lawson here any longer. They couldn't really have a proper conversation. It was late at night and really... did Charlie want to have a mental breakdown in front of his boss? Definitely not.
'I'll get a nurse and head home.'
"Okay," Charlie said, then cleared his throat. He was sure his voice was a bit choked, but Lawson didn't let on. Charlie appreciated that.
The man had left the room and Charlie wanted to just close his eyes and pretend none of this happened. Pretend that he was back in his room at Blake's house and the buzzing was indeed coming from a few bees trapped inside his room. He wanted to just relax and fall asleep, but he couldn't. Because in a short while there would be some stranger entering his room, most likely trying to get his attention. While Charlie knew there was no threat, he still felt vulnerable. Stuck in a bed, barely able to move. Closing his eyes right now just meant letting go of his sense of sight, the only other warning he had. He wasn't ready for that.
So when his eyes slipped closed on their own volition, Charlie made an effort to move. The ensuing jolt of pain was enough to keep him awake until Lawson returned with an elderly, brusque looking nurse. Charlie swallowed. Just his luck to get caught in the hospital with someone who wouldn't take any bullshit. He could see that right away.
The nurse didn't play around. She took his vitals, fluffed up his pillows and watched him swallow down a couple of pills with some water. All that without more than a few words. Well, at least she was well aware of his situation and knew any chatter would be useless. Or maybe she was just the silent type, who knew. During this, Charlie threw a pleading glance towards Lawson a few times, as if the man could rescue him. Lawson only smirked.
Charlie grimaced, especially when the nurse pulled the blanket up almost to his chin and practically tucked him in. Charlie could swear Lawson was chuckling at his feeble protests, but he had no proof. Finally the nurse gave Charlie a warning glare, as if daring him to put even a foot out of the bed. Not that it was a possibility. With the way she tucked him in, Charlie could barely move a finger. Though he must admit she somehow managed to turn him in such a way that took a bit of the pressure of his back. Or maybe the pills started working.
Whatever the case, Charlie had no notion of moving anytime soon. He felt his eyes slipping closed. He felt a pat on his good foot and blinked to see Lawson looking at him fondly.
Charlie thought he might've been hallucinating. His eyes closed again and this time they didn't open even as he was finally left alone for the night.