A/N: Thank you everyone who has reviewed and follow/favorite, it's wonderful hearing everyone thoughts on the chapters. Sorry I haven't responded to reviews last chapter, I've had a very busy and stressful week. Enjoy!
First step, which is perfectly logical, is to find out why he's here.
After five years.
Rory kept the spiked OJ's coming. I'm a little warm in the face. But I'd probably be a little warm in the face regardless. At least this way, I'm also slightly anesthetized.
Jimmy is sitting on the couch, with Mickey's head in his lap.
"He's enormous," he says, looking over the back of the couch at me, "I remember when I got him for you. He was just a wee little runt."
Mickey snuffs heavily, as if knowing that he's the topic of conversation.
"So…" I move no further into the room, "what's the deal, Jimmy?"
"Ah. The deal?"
He turns back, facing away from me and I stare at his neck. It's weird how something so familiar at one time can all of a sudden be familiar again after years of not being… anything. I remember freckles, for god's sake. Individual neck freckles. And there they are.
"We were happy together, once," he says, quietly, scratching Mickey behind the ears, "Do you remember?"
I don't say anything. I refuse to say anything. Even if I did have anything to say, it's been a hell of alot easier to remember how miserable I was at the end than any of the times we were happy.
"You were my best friend," he says, and stands up, facing me with the couch between us. "I met a woman."
And that sent your hurtling back to the porch of your former girlfriend because…
But I say, "Oh?"
"The woman I met… well, I met her before I went to jail. I…she waited for me. I can't… I."
How, exactly, am I expected to take him seriously at all when he's standing there pretty much telling me the night he completely was off his rocker, he was also cheating on me.
"I made vow to you, I miss you, Rose."
I laugh. I can't help it.
It's too ridiculous.
"Oh, did you?!"
"Yes, I know things got bad, that I did things that I'm not proud of. But I can see clearly now. I've changed, I'm better, Rose."
Totally serious. He's totally serious! The same man who once literally lost his mind and almost beat me half to death. The same man who thought that every time I went to work that I was cheating on him.
"Okay. Great. Congratulations?"
"No… you don't understand me, Rose. I'm here, because… I don't know what to do anymore."
"Okay."
"I thought I knew. I was going to get out of jail, and ask her to marry me. I don't know now."
"So you're living with her?"
"No. I'm-"
"Okay, let me get this straight, you don't know what to do; you've spent the last five years in jail for almost killing me, and two cops. Yet the whole time you've been with another woman?" He flinched at that, serves him right. "So you came back here, to me, because…"
"Because you are the only person who ever really made me happy."
Well, there it is.
"…and I can't go back to her until I know for sure."
Oh. I see.
"Is this like... your way of saying sorry?"
"Yeah."
"And... you need somewhere to stay?"
He smiles, uh, half smiles.
"I was hoping…"
I cringe.
"Why don't you go and stay with my mum? You two clearly have something special."
"Oh," he looks down, "I suppose… I could."
"I don't think you staying here is a good idea," my chest tightens a little at the look he gives me when he lifts his head.
"Why? Is there… someone?"
Jealous!
"Yes," I'm already regretting this, "There is."
"Jackie said that there wasn't. That there hasn't been. Not since…"
Jesus Christ, mother!
Seriously, though, stop looking at me like that!
I swear it's like… His eyes are following me.
"Well. She doesn't know."
"Oh."
"It's new. He's new."
"I see," he steps closer to me. He needs a shower, but he still smells like Jimmy. Which is a good smell. A good smell that I hate. He looks at my lip. "Did he do that to you?"
And now I'm uncomfortable. Really uncomfortable. And he's using his sexy voice. Not an interrogative voice, or an accusatory voice and definitely not an angry voice.
"Y-yes."
There is an immediate banging on my door, and the doorbell. Mickey goes ballistic.
Thank god.
I peel away from him and jog to the door. Amy is there, pounding on the window by the door with an open hand.
Oh, Wingmen, you're so good at-
I open the door.
There's blood on her shirt.
"Jesus!"
I feel a little faint. That's more than a little blood.
"Rory's slit his wrist!"
"What?!"
"Oh, stop it," I look up. He's slumped on the banister, easing his way down the steps, clutching a kitchen towel to his arm and, I'm a little dizzy, bleeding a lot. "I'm not suicidal. I want to live. And I also want Amy to not put knives in the drying rack pointy side up."
Okay. Okay. BLOOD. Okay.
"Drive us to the hospital?!" Amy goes over to him, and he leans on her.
Oh, god, he's pale. BLOOD.
"Can I help?"
Jimmy gently pushes by me, and goes to Rory, gripping his bleeding arm, "Rose's afraid of blood," he says gently.
"Jesus Christ!" Rory is staring at, well, at Jimmy.
"It's deep, yeah," Jimmy looks over his shoulder at me, "Bring your car around, Rosie."
I mumble something and bring my car around front.
I open the back door and Jimmy helps ease Rory in, not letting go of his arm. Amy gets into the passenger seat and turns to look back at him.
The drive to the hospital is a blur.
"Amy, I think I'm dying."
"Ugh. You're not dying!"
"I'm not a religious man…"
"Rory, shut up," she genuinely doesn't believe him, about the death bit. He is managing to get a goodly amount of blood on my seat, though, and looking a little peaked in the rear-view mirror.
"If I die… I want you to know that I've always-"
"Do shut up, Rory," she says curtly, reaching back to pat his knee.
Feeling like something from a movie, I pull into the emergency room bay.
Aren't they supposed to run out to my car? They run out in movies? I've seen ER. I have a man bleeding to death in my backseat! Run, nurses!
No one comes to the car. I follow as Jimmy and Amy guide Rory through the doors and up to the check-in desk.
"RORY?!"
"Alonzo!"
Alonzo's there in scrubs, and very quickly whisks Rory away.
"Ma'am?" the woman at the desk looks up at me, "you need to move your car."
"When can we go back with him?" I ask, looking at her nametag, "Miss Redfern."
"We'll let you know. But, really, you have to move your car."
"I've got it. Give me your keys, Rose."
Jimmy takes my keys with bloody hands and goes out through the doors.
"You okay?" I ask Amy.
"I feel pretty bad, actually. Can you imagine if I'd accidentally killed him?"
She sounds so near tears that I'm taken aback. I pull her into a hug.
"I mean... I've never met anyone else who gives head as good as him! I don't think I ever will again."
I laugh, and squeeze her, "Is that what you'd put on his gravestone - 'Here Lies Rory; He Gave Great Head.'"
She replies, maudlin, "It's what he would want."
"He's going to be fine," I let her go and realize too late that she's gotten blood all over my shirt. Or, rather, her borrowed shirt. Today just isn't my day. I feel dizzy. "So you…"
She looks at me. There's blood on her cheek.
"You guys didn't do this on purpose? Not a wingman thing?"
She punches me in the arm, hard. Her fist is so bony! I groan. Nurse Redfern looks up at us, irritated.
"No! You mean, did we sit upstairs and say, 'Gee… poor Rose needs our help, oh here's a knife I've got an idea'? No!"
"Okay, okay! Sorry I asked. I just… I mean…"
"God, flatter yourself much?" she looks at me, still pissed, "It was an accident. Why? Was it good timing?"
There is still a lot of blood on her shirt and I feel my vision go black at the edges a little. "Yeah, actually."
"Well," she folds her arms, "I'm sure he'll appreciate that."
We go sit in the waiting room.
I have the strongest urge to text David and tell him where I am. Which is stupid, of course, because… I mean… why should he be the one I tell. I do text Clara, who rushes over immediately with a clean shirt for Amy.
Jimmy stays with us. He is very attentive.
I keep scowling at him without meaning to. I'm just so suspicious of his motives. Part of me wants to believe that he is legitimately just being one of those overly nice, helpful guys… and the other part of me can't help but feel that it's all a show. Like, 'Oh, look at how great I am at dealing with difficult situations. Remember how I always took care of these things? Remember that, Rose?'
At any rate, we wait for a long time. I finally send him home to check on Mickey and feed him.
I then text David. Because, you know what, I want to. The smell of the ER is making me feel sick. And I want to text him. I get a response almost immediately.
From: David
Body:
what's up?
I look at Amy and Clara.
I text back, "I'm at the ER it's a long wait."
From: David
Body:
What?! Are u ok? I'll be right there.
Clara gives me an encouraging little smile, which is just what she does, even without knowing that I'm about to hit send on a text that just says, "yes. Please come."
When I was in high school, I took my friend to the emergency room when he "accidentally" swallowed a tumbler of Indian ink. He was a mess like that… always. And always over a girl. That one was…
Lily? I think? I don't remember anymore. She was transferring and he was distraught. Hence, the ink.
Anyway, at sixteen, as I sat in the waiting room while they pumped his inky, melancholy stomach, I had my first panic attack. It wasn't that I was particularly worried about him. I didn't really even like him that much. I didn't want him to die but… anyway the root of my panic attack was not because of my friend.
It was my dad.
I hate hospitals. I hate that the smell and the lighting always bring me back to that night no matter how long it's been, or how far away from that particular hospital I am.
I hate that the longer I stay in a hospital, the more and more likely a panic attack happening is.
I don't want to say anything to Amy or Clara, both of whom look frazzled enough as it is.
But really… between the blood and the hospital smell and Jimmy and…
Breathe, Rose. Breathe.
Nope. It's just getting worse. Breathing isn't going to help. We're past breathing.
I feel cold in the face and hot in the neck. I wipe my hands on my pants.
I just need to stand up. I just need-
That night in the ER with my friend, I had called Jimmy from a payphone. He hadn't picked up until the third try. By that time, he was home, in Edinburgh, and obviously couldn't get on a plane and magically fly there between us and sit in the ER waiting room with me. But he had talked to me until I ran out of quarters. That's when we were new, when things were really good, before he got sick.
And then, about five minutes after that, I'd passed out.
I stand up. Both of them look at me.
"I just need to… walk around," I feel like I'm underwater. My voice doesn't sound like me.
Breathe.
As I walk towards the doors, they open.
David.
David's there in front of me, with a massive brown equipment bag, and another guy is beside him, who look's kind of like the Badger from the Halloween party.
"Hey!" he says, spotting me. I see him look at my chest, which is bloody.
BLOOD.
"ROSE!"
I can't breathe. I can't hear.
"I…"
I feel a hand on my arm, one around my waist.
I don't know if you've ever seen a woman faint, but it's nothing like the kind of fainting that women in corsets do in movies. I fall, like a sack of bricks.
Oh, god, I don't want to pass out. I really, really don't.
"Rose, what happened? Are you alright? Talk to me."
His fingers are cool on my neck, he's taking my pulse. I keep forgetting he's a Doctor.
"I need to go outside."
I think I say this. I can't hear, so I'm not—
"David, do you want me to get a wheelchair? I can get a nurse." The guy that looks like the Badger, with the floppy hair said with a hint of panic in his voice, I must really look awful.
"No, we're fine Matt, just help me get her outside."
So Badger guy's name is Matt, I wonder if Clara knows? Another arm is around my waist, and we head out the door.
Air.
I smell air, smoggy, hot asphalt-smelling parking lot air… but air nonetheless.
And I'm sitting. On something. Something hard.
David pushes me forward, my head between my knees.
"Breathe."
I don't know which one of us says it. I can see again, after a minute or two. I look up.
"Hey," he's dumped his brown bag on the bench I'm sitting on carefully next to my leg. Watching him do this, a process, is kind of comforting. He rubs my back slowly, it feels good, and gives me something to focus on.
"You okay?"
I nod.
"Here," he pulls a bottle of water out of the brown bag.
I drink.
He's not touching me anymore, but standing close next to his friend, they look a lot alike, I wonder if their related? He's also, I notice, offering me a modicum of dignity by looking out at the parking lot and not at me being a sweaty, bloody shaking disaster.
Yup. I'm handling this is the finest Rose Tyler fashion. Suave. Debonair. Mysterious. Sweaty.
I groan and dip forward again, dumping some of the bottled water on the back of my neck.
"Hey!" he moves fast, around me, jerking his bag out of the way of the water, "Careful!"
"Oh, shit! Sorry!" I stand up, which, Okay, wow, is a terrible idea.
I'm gonna pass out.
"Hey, easy now," he's there again, easing me back onto the bench, "Sit."
I sit.
"Sorry…"
"It's… okay. You didn't hit it," he shoves it all to the far end of the bench and then sits next to me, "just some of the stuff in there is really expensive."
"Sorry-"
"Rose," he snaps, "I said don't worry about it."
Perfect. Just exactly how I wanted this to go.
"I, uh, I'll go inside see how Rose's friends are, unless you need me to stay here?" Badger said sounding really uncomfortable.
"It's okay Matt, I can take care of her.."
He nods but quickly heads back into the hospital, as if he can't get away from me fast enough. Can't say that I blame him.
We sit quietly for a while.
"So… what happened?"
"Rory cut his wrist. Accidentally," I add, at his sideways glance, "He was talking the whole way over though. I think he's fine."
"Your shirt," he says, leaning forward, "That's…"
"Yeah. Not paint," I pluck it away from my chest. Buh. Gotta stop looking!
"That's a lot of blood," he rolls his head back, scrunching his nose, "I have an extra shirt in my bag…" he smirks, "But I don't think it'd fit you."
"Probably not."
"You can wear it anyways, it's better than a blood soaked shirt."
"Thanks." I don't want to think of my bloody shirt. "So, your friend…"
"Oh, yeah. That's my Brother Matt, sorry I didn't introduce you. I was worried, didn't think…"
"You were worried about me?"
He is worried about me! This is good right, worry is good.
He smiles.
"Of course I am worried about you, I get a text saying you're at the hospital. Then when I get here you're covered in blood, and look like you're going to pass out."
"Sorry about that."
"So… if Rory's probably fine, what happened back there?"
"Oh, that?" I wince, "That was a panic attack. I hate hospitals."
"Oh."
Yep. That's all he's getting right now.
"What time is it?" I ask.
He pulls his iphone out of his bag and slides it on.
I see his background.
The picture of my foam leaf.
"Uhh… 5:10."
"Th-thanks."
My leaf.
"You okay?" he puts it away.
"Yeah… just… been here a long ass time."
"You hungry?"
"What?"
"Your hands…" shaking, yes, nerves of steal, "I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, if you…"
"Rose!"
We both turn to see Clara coming through the glass doors.
"Oh, there you are! I didn't know where you went! Are you okay? You're all wet. And you disappeared and then Matt shows up out of nowhere. Oh," she falters, and kind of does a weird sweeping motion with her arms, looking like someone keeping a secret in a seventh grade play, and stiffly says, "Oh, hello, David."
"Hello."
"Hey Clara, did you know that David and your Badger are brothers?"
Clara looks at David confused for a moment, then her eyes light up. "Oh, you're Matt's brother? He mentioned he had two brothers, I just didn't know it was you."
David looks at me with a confused expression. "Badger?"
"The Halloween party, he was dressed up as a Badger. I… didn't know his name."
"A married Badger," she frowns and I feel so bad for her, Clara is almost as bad as I am when it comes to men. She really liked him, it's too bad really.
"Ah, yeah," David looks at Clara and shifts uncomfortably. "That's right, I forgot both my brothers were night."
"I, uh…" Clara shifts, awkwardly, then looks at me, "that nurse, Alonzo… very handsome, isn't he? I like his ears. Anyway, he came out and said that Rory is fine and that we should be able to take him home in about an hour or so."
"Oh, great! Fantastic!"
"Amy's with him now. She wanted me to ask…" she looks at David, and then back at me, and then back at David, "if, uh, well, my car is small. I can probably fit everyone in… but it'll be a squeeze. But, is… your guest coming back with your car?"
Please, Clara, I really need you to try and make this sound even more suspicious.
But more to the point…
oh, fuck.
He might come back.
I hadn't even considered it.
I just wanted David.
And I didn't want Jimmy.
Poor Jim-
What?! No! He hurt me, broke my heart!
I fish my phone out of my pocket, and open it up.
I still have his number… of course I do… but I don't think he has a phone. Why else would he have just slept on the porch?
I call my own landline, hoping he'll answer.
David is watching me.
Why do I feel the need to sneak away and make this call?
"Hello?"
"Ji… Hey," I stand up, and step across the loading bay, "it's me."
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah. Oh, yeah, they said we could take him in about an hour."
"Great, I'll-"
"Oh, no. Don't. Don't worry about it. Clara… our friend Clara is here. She's got a big car. Don't worry about it."
"Oh. Okay. I um… I tried to clean your upholstery."
Oh, god, Jimmy.
"You… didn't have to do that."
"I don't mind," he says softly.
Who is this incredibly nice person and what has he done with that selfish git Jimmy Stone?
I look over my shoulder. Clara is standing and talking to David as he starts to put the water away. That can't be good.
"Anyway, I uh… I guess in terms of lodging…" he trails off, leading, then finally says, "I guess I can go to a motel."
"Just…" I sigh, "Stay there, tonight. On the couch. Then after that… maybe go stay with my mum. She's looking for a border."
"Oh. Right. Sure. That'll be…" I can hear him force a smile, "Nice."
"Great. Okay. Bye, Jimmy."
"Bye, Rosie."
Really wish he'd stop calling me that.
I go back over to David and Clara.
"I guess now, we just wait. More."
He shrugs, "Okay."
I'm not going to force it. He came. And… I feel better with him here.
Less in need of a fainting couch.
I'm sure a large part of that is the air.
But…
He looks up at me.
He came. To the emergency room.
"I hate hospitals, too," he says as we walk through the doors, "I generally try to avoid them. Unless I have to work, if they are short Doctors."
"Me too. Well not the working part."
He smiles at me, and I feel a lot better. Amazingly better, he really has that effect on me.
