Bobby went straight to the hospital after work, stopping only to get some flowers for Joanne – purple orchids, they were her favourite. When he poked his head into her room, she was awake and sitting up in bed. She smiled weakly at him when she saw him.
"Hi, Robby."
He put the flowers on her nightstand and pressed a kiss to her forehead before sitting on the edge of her bed. She smiled at him, doing her best to seem normal, but he could see that her eyes were red. She'd been crying. His felt a pang in his heart. He took her hand, uncertain of what to say.
"How are you today?" he finally asked.
"Alive, I suppose." She was still trying to smile, trying to pretend she was alright.
He looked at her sadly before pulling her into a hug as gently as he could; he didn't want to aggravate any of her injuries. She leaned her head against his shoulder. They stayed like that for what felt like many minutes before Bobby let go of her.
"Have they told you how much longer you'll be in the hospital?" he asked, intertwining his hand with hers.
"They need to keep me for observation for a while longer, something about the head injury," she said, running her fingers over the bandage on her temple.
He nodded. "What about after? When you go home?"
She sighed. "I haven't even had a chance to think about what'll happen once I'm out of the hospital. I suppose arrangements will have to be made. And then…for Larry…"
Her voice became choked and she quickly turned her face away from him, trying to hide the tears in her eyes. Bobby felt his heart ache for her again and he pulled her back into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. He felt her shoulders shaking ever so slightly, but when she finally pulled away from him her eyes were dry. She turned away from him again, not meeting his eyes, seeming almost embarrassed by her show of emotion.
"Joanne, do you have anyone who can stay with you after you're released?" he asked, hoping to redirect the subject back to something she could cope with. "I mean, just in case you need help, since, well…" he trailed off, running his fingers over the cast on her arm.
She leaned back against her pillow, closing her eyes and sighing. "I hadn't even thought of that at all."
"I could…I mean, if you wanted, if you don't mind…I'd be happy to stay with you. Just for a couple days, you know?"
Her eyes snapped open. She seemed surprised by his offer, but she smiled up at him. "I'd like that, Robby."
A week later Bobby was sitting beside Joanne in the back of a cab as they returned to the home she had shared with Larry. She'd been released from the hospital with a bottle of painkillers, some bandages, and a list of things she should and shouldn't do, although Bobby hadn't seen that last item. He had the sneaking suspicion she'd chucked it in the garbage the second she was out of the building. Joanne seemed happy to be out of the hospital – she'd lit a cigarette as soon as they were outside and hadn't stopped smoking since – but he was a little worried about how she'd cope with constant reminders of Larry all around her.
When the cab pulled up in front of the townhouse, Joanne paused, staring up at the building. Bobby watched her cautiously. She didn't say anything and her expression didn't change, but the slight quickening of her breathing told him what he needed to know.
"Joanne?"
She jumped a little, before turning and flashing him a not entirely convincing smile. She got out of the cab and he followed her. He retrieved his overnight bag from the trunk of the cab as she walked up the steps and unlocked the front door.
Joanne collapsed onto the sofa as soon as they were inside.
"It's good to be home," she said, without conviction. Bobby glanced at her as he put his overnight bag down by the front door. She was sprawled across the sofa, one arm draped across her eyes. He knelt down beside her.
"Joanne? Do you need anything?"
She lifted her arm from her face and gave him an odd slanting look. "You're not my nursemaid, kiddo. You don't need to hover over me and wait on me every second."
"It's only until you're healed, so you should enjoy it while you can," he said teasingly, trying to lighten the mood a little.
She smiled weakly at him and sat up. "Right now, I just want to get some sleep in my own bed. Tomorrow there will be…things to deal with."
She got that distant look again, the one that appeared whenever she was thinking about Larry.
"Joanne?" he asked hesitantly.
"I'm fine, Robby!" she snapped, startling him. She sighed, seeming suddenly tired. "You can stop worrying about me, kiddo."
He watched her disappear into her bedroom, feeling more worried about her than ever. He spent a few moments staring after her, concerned, before he turned and surveyed the place. He'd never spent a great deal of time in Joanne and Larry's home, and he'd never really studied it before. It was clean and sleek and modern, decorated all in black, white and silver. At the same time, there was something comfortable about it. It felt like a home. There were some little things – a tie on the back of a chair, an open magazine, a newspaper – that were probably just as they had been the night of the accident. Bobby tidied those things away – Joanne didn't need those reminders around her right now.
After he was finished that, Bobby explored the place a little, finding his way around and getting accustomed to the place. He put his things in the guest bedroom, but he set himself up on the couch so that he would be able to hear if Joanne got up during the night. He had the feeling that her stubbornness would keep her from waking him to ask for his help.
Sure enough, he awoke around midnight to the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen. He got up and went to the kitchen, pausing in the doorway. Joanne didn't see him; she was in the process of clearing out the fridge. He watched her for a moment. She was dressed only in a nightgown and robe, allowing him to see the bruises and bandages on her chest and her legs. His heart ached a little when he saw the delicate way she was moving, the way she was favoring one leg. She was clearly in pain.
"Joanne?"
She looked up, startled. He saw her eyes linger on his bare chest for a moment before she returned to diligently rooting through the fridge.
"Sorry, Robby, I didn't mean to wake you."
He rushed over to her and caught her wrists, gently stopping her movements.
"Joanne, you shouldn't be up and about. If you need something, you should have woken me. It's what I'm here for."
She looked up at him, a hint of exasperation in her eyes. "Really, kiddo. I'm not an invalid. You don't need to wait on me hand and foot."
He didn't answer, but he couldn't help glancing down at the bruises and bandages visible on her chest. He put his arm around her and gently guided her out to the living room and sat her on the sofa, feeling grateful when she didn't try to fight him.
Bobby wasn't the best cook in the world, but he managed to put together some food for the two of them. When he brought the food out he was relieved to find that she was still sitting on the sofa where he'd left her. He gave her one plate before sitting down beside her.
They ate in silence. Bobby found himself watching Joanne, trying to figure out what was going on in her head, what she was feeling. Even though she kept saying that she was fine, he still worried about her. After all the years they'd known each other, he knew that she was too proud and too stubborn to admit when she needed help. And she did need help. She was injured and in pain, and he knew that she must be going through hell, whether she showed it or not.
Joanne finished eating and turned to look at him. "Stop staring, Robby. You're making me nervous."
He started a little and stuttered out an apology, and for a moment he saw a trace of amusement in her eyes. She stood up to take her plate away. He jumped to his feet automatically, and she looked at him, eyebrows raised.
"Robby, I'm not made of glass. You don't need to do everything for me."
She carried her plate into the kitchen. He trailed after her, watching her. She seemed to be limping less. He couldn't help but wonder whether it was because she was in less pain or if it was just because she knew he was watching her. He stopped in the doorway and watched as she put her plate in the sink and picked up the bottle of painkillers from the counter. She finally turned to look at him. She seemed to be able to tell what he was thinking.
"I'm fine, Robby, and I'm going back to bed now," she said firmly before she brushed past him, heading back to her bedroom. Bobby remained standing there in the doorway. He heard her shut her bedroom door behind her, and he sighed. She was a good actress, but he knew her. He knew that she wasn't fine.
A/N: I feel compelled at this point to state that smoking after having a collapsed lung is apparently a really terrible idea. Anyways, thanks again for reading.