/You've been the only thing that's right/In all I've done/ And I can barely look at you/But every single time I do/I know we'll make it anywhere/Away from here/
It would be impossible for him to deal with all of this on his own; he needed help. In particular he needed Vic's help; but he couldn't ask Vic to help him, because if he did then Vic would know what he was up to, and it wouldn't go anywhere; which meant he would have to deal with this all by himself; he supposed it was time for him to grip up, now. And-
… was that a gun shot?
Furrowing his brow Ronnie turned around slowly; trying to understand the numbness in his shoulder; had he been shot?
It was a little confusing to see the bartender, and a few other Latino's standing behind him. Two of them looked extremely nervous; and that numbness in his shoulder was starting to burn, and now he was sure he had been shot. "Little late for you to be out here, innit Holmes?" the bartender drawled as he folded his arms over his chest, and Ronnie just grinned.
"I know you." Ronnie said, sounding almost bored as he drew his hand away from his gun, and hooked his thumbs through his belt loops; he already had them on attempted murder of a police officer; he didn't need to draw his gun and shoot them just yet (but he would). They exchanged glances, and the bartender- hadn't it been a drug trafficking charge? Hadn't they taken most of the product, by default giving him less time to serve? Hadn't they… helped him out there?-looked mad. "It's nice to see your old crew was willing to take you back in." Ronnie added with a dismissive shrug as he turned away; trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder.
"Watch your back, holmes."the bartender called, and Ronnie's step faltered slightly; he couldn't believe that little maggot had just threatened him. And one of them had shot him; he couldn't let this go unpunished (but he needed to get to the hospital, because the pain was starting to make him want to curl up and cry; or laugh, he wasn't quite sure.).
Coming to a stop Ronnie turned slowly to look at the, as he pulled his cell phone out; he had a choice here, he realized with one hand on his gun; did he do this the right way, and call it in; or did he do this Strike Team style, and then call in a lie?
The pain was beginning to become unbearable, and he was trembling from the pain, now; but still he didn't move-they threatened him; they shot him; they wanted to kill him; it was kill or be killed-he knew he should call for back-up; he knew these men were all ex-cons. He knew that just for carrying a weapon they were going to get arrested; and likely they were carrying drugs.
He had a choice here.
A choice he had to make.
He could change, here and now, or he could go back to Vic.
The Latino's seemed to be getting nervous, and Ronnie knew why; he also knew he was losing a lot of blood, and he felt like he was going to collapse. He felt weak, and dizzy; and he was about to choose to go back to good; but then his phone rang.
Not taking his eyes off of the men Ronnie answered the phone; barely noticing the fact that his breathing was a little heavier than it should be, "Yeah?" he asked, ignoring the waver in his tone,
"Ronnie? Are you okay?" Vic sounded frantic; and without realizing it Ronnie was unsnapping the holster strap,
"I-I've been shot." Ronnie said, and he could see the Latino's realize what his decision had been; Vic was starting to say something, but the reverberating sound of the first shot from his gun drowned the sound out; the next three shots, in quick succession of each other vibrated down his arm; numbing him to the pain flaring in his shoulder.
The men hit the ground, and so did he. "Ronnie? Ronnie answer me!" glancing toward his phone Ronnie laid still on the ground, trying to ignore the searing pain in his shoulder; and the added pain in his side. Reaching out awkwardly he grabbed his phone and drew it up to his ear,
"Vic, I-I need help." He groaned and shifted, trying to get a look at the Latino's, he wasn't sure if he had killed them, or if they were just injured. He could see two running away, one clutching his hand, and the other his shoulder, the two men on the ground were dead, and dying.
"Where are you Ronnie?" he sounded so genuinely concerned that Ronnie knew he had made the right decision in choosing Vic.
"Are you okay?" Vic still sounded concerned, and Ronnie smiled slightly; though in all honesty he was a little annoyed that the doctors had shaved his beard to stich his cheek where one of the bullets had nearly killed him; would have if he hadn't been shifting his weight as he pulled his gun out. "You know" Vic said as he suddenly reached out and caught Ronnie by the chin, turning his head so that he could look at the stiches in his cheek, "Lem hasn't seen you without a beard since… since the accident." He grinned as he drew he hand back, and against his better judgment Ronnie chuckled, "He isn't going to recognize you." Vic said jokingly; but there was something in the tone of his voice that made Ronnie feel strangely ashamed of himself.
"Why were you out there, Ronnie?" Vic asked suddenly as he took a seat in the chair next to Ronnie's bed, and slipped his sunglasses into his pocket, "You said you wanted to talk, but you were nowhere to be found."
"And I wouldn't answer my phone." Ronnie concluded with a sigh. Vic remained silent, and Ronnie knew he was waiting for answers, and he knew he would have to give them; just like he would have to give them to IA. But there was no way IA would believe any of his bullshit stories; just like Vic wouldn't, either.
Maybe they both know that he's going nowhere fast with his lies; because they remain silent, Vic looking at the floor, and Ronnie looking at the wall. In the old days they would be talking about a lie to tell; because that would cover both of their asses; but he isn't that guy any more, and the fact that he killed two people tonight (doesn't bother him)… that proves that he's changed far too much. And he isn't sure he wants to think about that right now.
"He was following up on a lead." They both turn their attention to the doorway, where Shane is walking in, nervously glancing back as he closes the door, and rushes to the side of Ronnie's bed, giving him a strange look, "We got a tip that there was gonna be a big deal there, and we sent Ronnie because everyone knows us, Vic." Ronnie frowned as Shane spoke; quickly, and nervously; his voice a little higher than it should be, "But one of the guys-" he motioned toward Vic, "was that bartender, Alejandro, and he recognized Ronnie from when ya'll took him down way back when" he uselessly motioned over his shoulder to indicate that it had been years ago, "they shot first"
"They did." Ronnie sounded more annoyed than he was willing to admit to being,
"-so it was self-defense. You'll be fine, buddy." Furrowing his brow Ronnie looked over at Vic, who seemed to be contemplating this.
"Shane and I are going to go pick that scumbag up." Vic said as he stood up and looked at Ronnie, "Get some rest, and… don't worry about it, Ronnie. You'll be fine." And just like that they were back to business as usual; and Ronnie watched them walk out of the room; only able to think one thing, what's Lem going to think of me?
"Ronnie!" he knew he should open his eyes, but he remained still, even when he felt Lem's hand on his shoulder; he knew he should say something, but he didn't want to face the questions Lem was going to ask; he didn't want to admit he was lost, and he didn't know how to make his way home, again.
The bed dipped down slightly as Lem sat next to him on the bed, and his mind kicked into over-drive; what would happen if he lost his job? What would happen to Lem? Why had he listened to Shane? Why had he lied? The truth was fine; the truth would have worked. If he was just a little-
-Ronnie tensed when he felt Lem's lips against his forehead. What was he doing that for?
"Are you okay, Ronnie?" Lem asked as he sat up straight, and reached down to grab Ronnie's hand, "Are you just going to ignore me?"
"What are you doing?" Ronnie reluctantly asked as he opened his eyes, and looked down to where Lem was holding his hand, that was… awkward.
"Why didn't I hear from anyone until today?" he looked, and sounded sad, and Ronnie felt terrible. "I had no idea what had happened to you. I couldn't get anyone to talk to me-and Dutch stopped by yesterday for lunch, and he had a lot of weird questions." Ronnie cursed under his breath, but Lem continued speaking, "Finally I just went down to the barn" Ronnie could see the hurt in Lem's expression before he looked away "and Vic told me what had happened." Ronnie knew that tone of voice; the tone that was saying he was feeling forgotten; alone.
There had been a time before when Ronnie had heard Lem speak like that. A couple, actually. He wanted to make that tone change; he wanted to see Lem smiling again. "It's my fault." Ronnie said suddenly; suddenly gripping Lem's hand, "I didn't want to worry you, but I… I obviously went about it the wrong way." Lem shifted in his seat, and turned to look at Ronnie, almost contemplatively.
"Lem, I…" sighing Ronnie used his free hand to push himself up, and Lem quickly shifted over, helping him sit up, "I've been an ass," that hadn't come out the way he had wanted it to, "ever since you got back I've been really distant. And I know that-and I know it's hurt you, and I'm sorry for that, I really am. But I had no idea where we stood, and I… I didn't want to do something that might be embarrassing."
Grinning Lem shook his head slightly, and then to Ronnie's surprise he asked, "Something like what?"
Now, Ronnie thought, would be a good time to stop this; to bring it back to normal. Now might be a good time to change. And yet Ronnie found himself leaning forward, and raising a hand to Lem's cheek; tentatively pressing his lips to Lem's, he expected the other man to jerk back; to get angry, but Lem was returning the kiss, eagerly.
And Ronnie had never had lying get him into such a pleasant situation before; but he was damn glad he had let it get him here today, because he wouldn't trade this moment for anything else.
A/N: I feel like this story would benefit from me actually writing the background for these events... Hmm.