Chapter Twelve: Pink Cast

"I think you'll be in here for... probably up to the next two months," Doc said, after Donut had been returned to the prison infirmary. "Lucky you didn't need surgery or anything. Nice cast, by the way. Very... pink."

"Lightish red," Donut corrected him.

"Did they run out of other colours?"

"No. I just like lightish red."

"Anyone you know planning on visiting the prison, tomorrow? Because I don't really want to let you out of that cot."

"Not that I know of. My parents live in another state, it's not exactly a fun time out for my friends and the guy I hung around most was my roomie, and... well..." Donut trailed off briefly. "That... didn't end too well." Doc nodded.

"Fair enough. Church, how about you? Not likely, is it?"

"No. Never fucking get visitors," Church grumbled from behind his curtains.

"Well, I'm going down to get some dinner. I'll bring you your food once I'm done, okay? Something happens while I'm gone... just yell really loudly."

"Can do."

"Whatever."

Once Doc had left, again, Church pulled back the curtains a little.

"You do get visitors, though," Church said suspiciously. "Why the lies, Tucker? I mean, I know that's what you do most of the time, but..."

"Oh, um... they decided not to show up?" Donut bluffed. He'd given up trying to correct Church on who he was, and had just resorted to making up excuses for why he kept saying things that Tucker wouldn't. It was still easier than correcting Church continuously. Church snorted.

"Right, whatever."

"Do visitors really never come to see you?"

"No. Who would? Only guys I knew on the outside were criminal douchebags. Well, besides Tex, anyway. She's just a bitch. But a bitch on the right side of the law." Church let go of the curtains again, and they swung back into place. "Not like I had any friends or anything. Friends are for losers."

Donut laced his fingers together behind his head, staring at the ceiling. The cot in the infirmary was much more comfortable than the one in his cell, and it didn't smell like old puke. And, Donut reflected, he wasn't in danger of being attacked in here. There's always a bright side, even to having your leg broken.


"A pink cast? Could you get any gayer?"

Donut looked up from one of the books Doc kept in the infirmary (a book about yoga) to see Tucker standing above him, grinning.

"How'd you get in? There's guards at the door," Donut asked, staring suspiciously at Tucker, who sat down nearby. Tucker gestured at his face, which still had the long line of stitches running down it.

"I'm supposed to be here... gotta get these fucking stitches taken out or I'm gonna scare Junior tomorrow. And, ah, you're kidding. Caboose only broke one leg? I said both legs, dammit." Tucker sighed. "Caboose must really like you. He doesn't usually get so depressed over breaking people. Normally he gets over it in about two minutes, and he spends those two minutes more giddy than depressed. But it's been, like, four hours. And he nearly bit my head off when I tried to ask him what happened."

"Oh, I freaking knew it was you," Donut grumbled.

"Yeah, well... kinda obvious, isn't it?" Tucker drummed his fingers against the cast lightly, causing Donut to wince a bit. "You don't seem as angry as I thought you would be."

"I'm too tired to be angry. I'll be mad later," Donut sighed. Tucker grinned wider, rocking back and forth on his feet a little.

"So, you can't really do anything at the moment, can you?"

"Oh, no, I can still do stuff. Just now I was thinking, 'hey, let's go dancing!' Of course I can't do anything, you jerk."

"Well, that's what happens when you're a backstabbing bitch, you know? In the future, don't be a dumbass. Stick to the winning side." Tucker waved his hand at his own face again. "You indirectly got my face disfigured, I indirectly got your leg broken. I'd say that's pretty even. Even if I wanted both legs broken. At least your injury isn't permanent, you jackass."

"At least you're not immobile for two months!" Donut retorted. "It's not like I meant for you to get injured."

"Oh, right, right. You just meant to get Church killed, then. That's so much fucking better. Not." Tucker glanced behind him at the curtains. "Since those curtains are still up, I assume Church is still alive?"

"Last time Doc checked, yeah." Donut returned to his book, only to find that he had lost the page he was on. "But he's kinda mental."

"Wait, like... what kind of mental? Caboose-brand mental? O'Malley-brand mental?"

"Uhmmm..." Donut hummed to himself for a moment. "Not either of those, really. He's just... out of it."

"Let's see..." Tucker crossed the room and stuck his head in the curtains. "Hey, Chur-"

"Holy crap!"

What followed was a yelp of pain from Tucker, and he quickly pulled his head out, holding his nose.

"Why are people always hitting me in the fucking face?" Tucker yelled. "Come on, anywhere but the face. Man... good thing that book was just a paperback. If it'd been a hardcover he would have broken my nose... the fuck was up with that?"

"Would this be a good time to mention that he thinks I'm you? And that Doc is Caboose? He probably thought you were someone he doesn't like..."

"You're supposed to be dead!" Church roared from inside his curtains. "Go away, Joannes! Go haunt Tucker, it ain't my fault you kicked it!"

"Oh, nice. 'Yeah, go haunt Tucker.' Thanks, Church," Tucker muttered. "Appreciate it." Tucker picked up a felt tip pen that Doc had been using to write on charts, and seated himself near Donut's cast. "Where's Doc, anyway? He's supposed to be taking out my stitches."

"Doc? Called out of the room by Sarge. Hey, stop drawing all over my cast!" Donut tried to wave Tucker away, but he couldn't actually reach far enough.

"Too late. Besides, gotta have something to look at for the next couple of months. Right?" Tucker continued doodling on Donut's cast. "I hope this will teach you how bad being a backstabbing bitch is for your health. Or social life. Both are kind of related in here. Do you even have any friends, yet?"

Donut chose not to respond to that, instead crossing his arms and pouting at the ceiling. "Are you sure you're here to get rid of those stitches? You're not here to be a jerk?"

"Eh. A bit from both, really." Tucker glanced at the curtains again. "I gotta talk to someone, and I was hoping to find Church sane and not trying to smack me in the face with a book about Tai Chi. It's not like talking to a flamer like you is my idea of a fun time."

"Huh? Excuse me? You're the one who hits on anything that moves."

"Yeah, but that doesn't make me gay. I'm just being practical. And besides, I called 'no homo.' So, in your face."

"Yeah, that's why you're compensating by drawing a naked lady on my cast. I don't want to look at that for two months! That's gross."

Tucker placed the lid back on the pen and tossed it back on the table he had found it on. "I don't need to compensate. Besides, I still don't like you. Drawing something you don't want to look at is just my way of showing that to you."

"Yeah, the fact that you got Caboose to break my leg totally doesn't illustrate that enough."

"That's why two legs were required, man."

"Princess Peach! What in sam hell happened?"

Sarge stomped into the infirmary, Doc trailing behind him looking somewhat nervous. Tucker quickly climbed off his seat and stood further away from Sarge, who made his way straight to Donut.

"Was it one of those dirty Blues? I bet it was! Those no-good rotten dirtbags!"

"Blues? Oh, right."

"I bet Flowers put them up to it. That conniving evildoer! He shouldn't be trusted with leading the guard, he's planning a revolt, I'm sure of it!"

Donut wondered whose idea it had been to let Sarge be a warden.

"I'd fire him straight up if I could find proof... But I know he is! He's a traitor! Him and his girly locks!" Sarge growled angrily.

"Um, Sarge... can you stop shouting? Yelling isn't good for the patients..." Doc muttered.

"Goddamn it." Sarge turned back to Donut. "Well, Cupcake? Who broke your leg, and you better say it was one of those goddamn Blues! Or Grif. Don't mind punishing Grif, he's a sad excuse for a Red! Always lazing around and making excuses not to work... lazy bastard."

Donut just shook his head.

"Um... it wasn't Grif," he said quietly.

"Ah, well... can't have it all. So it was one of those goddamn Blues, right?"

Donut hesitated for a few moments of silence. The pain in his leg was nagging at him and making him want to tell Sarge what had happened. That it had been Caboose and that Tucker had put him up to it. He glanced at Sarge, then at Tucker, who was standing out of Sarge's view. Tucker raised his hand, wiggled his fingers slightly, then mimed a snapping motion. The message was quite clear.

"No. I just got my leg stuck in a door, that's all. It was an accident," Donut lied.

"Really..." Sarge snorted. "Don't believe it. That the truth, lady?"

"Yes. I'm... just real clumsy. That's all."

"If that's true, you're gonna be more useless than I thought. Ah, bullhonky." Sarge grumbled to himself for a moment. "Well, can't be helped. You go on ahead and recover fast, soldier."

"Yes, sir."

Sarge nodded, glancing briefly at Donut's cast, complete with badly drawn naked lady.

"Hm. You know, those cards with the naked ladies on them were always good for soldier morale, back in the day. Good thinking, Cupcake. Keepin' up the morale, the manly way," he said approvingly. "Here I thought you were a fruit. Nice work."

Donut could see Tucker trying not to laugh behind him.

"Uh... thanks, sir?"

Sarge turned around and stomped out of the room, and Doc breathed a sign of relief.

"That man is so... stressful to deal with," he mumbled under his breath, before snapping his fingers and gesturing at Tucker. "Sit down, we'll get those stitches out. You'll look fine for your kid tomorrow."

"Great." Tucker nodded at Donut. "Wise choice there, girl."

"Oh, there was a choice?" Donut muttered bitterly.

"Heh... guess not," Tucker laughed. "Still, learn at this rate... you might actually make it through your time here."

Doc shook his head. "Tucker, stop threatening people within my earshot. That's not nice..."

"Won't do it again, Doc!"

As soon as Tucker was gone, Church pulled back the curtain.

"Is Joannes gone?" he whispered.

"Yeah, he's gone. Go to sleep, Church."

"Told you... told you there were ghosts around." Church shut the curtains again, leaving Donut to ponder.

If he'd actually been given a proper choice, would he have told Sarge what Caboose had done to him? Or that Tucker had started it? Probably not. Those were the rules in prison. Never snitch. Or else he'd probably end up like Church. Lying in a cot with five stab wounds, babbling about ghosts and giant ducks.