He'd never noticed that the walls were so white before because when he was usually sitting in the waiting room it was insanely crowded, but this time it was relatively bare with random spots of dirtier white areas. Everyone sitting in the waiting room seemed to have one thing in common: they all seemed to be missing an actual emergency, himself included. He'd much rather be at home in his own bed than sitting there stuck in that state boredom without the ability to move his hand.
Sam sat beside him with the medical history clipboard in her hand, filling it out practically without reading the questions from working there for so long – years of practice. She'd sped through them after she'd spent nearly the entire first 30 minutes they were there talking to one of the new nurses working at the nurses station, and she was close to being done filling it out. He glanced at her as he absentmindedly began tapping his fingers against his thighs.
"Don't do that," she looked up briefly as she gave him a firm and forceful look.
How is it that he could punch his father in the jaw and still be afraid to disobey his mother off of a hard look?
"Can't we just go home?" He sighed in annoyance as he was beginning to remember why he hated being a patient, his voice still cracking with inevitability. He looked at all of the others waiting there with him and then he looked at his hand – maybe his was worse. "I'm fine."
"No, I don't think you are," she shook her head as she looked up, scribbling her signature across the last line of the paper, and she dropped the pen to the clipboard. She didn't want to be there just as much as he didn't want to be there, but she wanted to see his bones heal properly. She'd seen it before, that thumb was most likely broken. "I think your thumb's broken, and you need an x-ray."
"Can't we get a second opinion?"
He was working that smart, sarcastic mouth to lighten the mood but his mother was beginning to get aggravated. She sighed as she picked up her purse from the floor to dig through, not quite sure what she was searching for, but she did know that she was beginning to really hate the entire night.
"Luka thinks you need to be here, too, and you know how Luka is about visiting the hospital," she sighed into her purse as she gave up her search and dropped her purse back to the floor. She clutched the clipboard tight as she stood up and looked down at him. "Besides, we're getting the second opinion now, Dr. Taggart."
The corners of her mouth twitched as she tried to smile, but her body seemed unwilling to show even the slightest bit of pleasure. It was supposed to be a good day, she sighed as she shook her head and turned towards the nurses' station, and she realized that she didn't know what made the evening suck so horribly – she just knew that it was the worst day of her and Luka's marriage, maybe even the worst day of her adult life. It made her angry, as though she'd just gathered her strength.
She set the clipboard down on the desk and shoved it across the top of it, pushing her tongue into her cheek as she stared coldly towards the admit desk at a sleeping Frank. He was sprawled out across the desk and most likely drooling puddles onto the desk, and Sam laughed lightly in the back of her throat. She looked back at Pam, the nurse sitting in the chair across from her, and bit her bottom lip.
"How long do you think the wait is?"
Sam could tell herself that it was going to be a long night, and she was looking forward to anything but a night with Alex getting bored, tired, and a smart mouth. X-ray had been backed up all day, and there wasn't going to be anyway that the process would be caught up by then, she'd sent a mere 50 up in a matter of 4 hours. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans, her thumb awkwardly rubbing circles against the outside of her pockets.
"It's hard to say. Your husband is the chief, so you never know," Pam teased and was successful in eliciting at least a small smile from their head nurse.
Sam walked back to the chair next to Alex as he lifted is left hand in leaned it against his temple, pressing his elbow against the armrest and resting his head. She looked at her son in distress, and she couldn't figure out if he was pain from the punch he threw or from whom he had thrown the punch at. It was probably more complicated than she could even begin to understand.
Part of her wanted to chastise him, tell him that he shouldn't have hit his father, but the other part of her was proud of him for realizing what kind of a person his father was and not letting him back into his life. She didn't know how she was supposed to be towards him when it came to what he did, but she knew that she wanted to tell him he did well and that she wished he doesn't have to do it again. She really wasn't angry at him.
The person she was upset with was Luka. He had practically pounded Steve's face in, even though the sick bastard had enjoyed it, and he seemed to show no regret even though he'd done this in front of his 2 year old daughter. He was acting like the man she married or the man she fell in love with, he was acting vulnerable like he was tired of the entire situation.
Did he want out?
She sat back down and rubbed her sons though affectionately, wishing that it wasn't best for them to be sitting there to wait for someone to have a look at his hand. He looked over at her, and widened his sleep laden eyes to give her the most poignant look he could muster but it seemed to go unnoticed. He stifled a yawn, and looked down to her hand on his leg as he tried not to reach out with his hurt hand to make her stop.
She was causing him to drift to sleep.
"What time is it?"
He was tired, and his voice was cracking from both the sleep resting in the back of his throat and through his hormonal change.
"Hmm," she mumbled as she lifted her left arm from his leg and checked her watch, shaking her head lightly as she caught him stifling another yawn. He was tired, and her heart ached for him having to sit in that waiting room for an undefined amount of time. "It's about 11:45."
"Can't we go home and come by tomorrow? I have school in the morning," he was using every excuse he could possibly think of to get home and into bed. He was drained, and he could hear his bed calling his name from across town and he hated that it was being a tease. "I'm supposed to get there early."
"You aren't going," she shook her head, crossing her legs and leaning back against the armrest as she entwined her fingers together. She sighed, looking at the plea in her son's face and knowing that there wasn't anything else she'd rather do that take him home and put him into bed. "X-ray's backed up. We'll be here all night."
He sighed and leaned back against his hand, giving up the fight against sitting there all night.
"You love x-rays. What's the big deal?"
"Only when they're for fun, mom," he laughed lazily in the back of his throat as he shook his head slightly, letting his eyes drift closed. She watched him, and she seemed to start mentally making a checklist of things that needed to be done in order for her to see how big he was getting; check height, check weight, check pant waist, check shoe size.
He seemed to be curled up into the chair, the plastic digging into his lower back but he seemed to not care, and his size seemed to make him overflow. His mother couldn't believe how big he was, considering that nearly 2 years ago he was too small for his age instead of rather tall for his age, but then she remembered that his father was an easy 6 feet. Alex was bound to be somewhere in between her 5 foot and his father's 6 foot.
He was getting too big much too fast, and it was scaring her to know that he'd soon be out of her house and out of her life. She'd had him in her life since she was 15; he'd been there for her to take care of and to raise, and she didn't know what she'd do without him being there and not needing her anymore. She'd never been without a child, at least, what she couldn't remember, and she was beginning to lose herself.
If she wasn't a mother, what was she?
"How's it looking?" Her husband nearly whispered as he walked in from being outside and sat down beside her, cautiously. He acted as though he was hiding something, like his secrets were being pounded deeper and deeper within him and she didn't like it at all. "Is it looking bad?"
He knelt down in front of Alex, gently picking up his hand and examining it carefully. His own hand was bruised around the knuckles, and she peered at him to catch his hair disheveled and his eyes red as though he'd kept his eyes pried open for hours upon hours too long. He looked like a tainted mess, and he was doing his best to keep it from becoming untainted.
"Yeah," he sighed, setting Alex's hand back down on his lap and looking at Sam as he slapped his open palm against his thigh. He nodded as he reached up and scratched his temple with his left hand, offering her a force smile as he absentmindedly reached out to rub her knee. "We're going to try to get him back there at least. I think that he broke a knuckle."
He looked different, slightly, than he had before as she remembered that he had once looked so full of life, but she'd hardly seen it with her. She knew that he had seemed like such a mess without her, and even Abby had counseled her on it once or twice. She couldn't, honestly, remember him ever being truly happy with her.
He only seemed happy anymore when he saw his daughter.
She reached out and pressed her fingertips into his cheek, her thumb tracing his dry lips as she carefully touched a dark bruise forming on his face. She wondered where he got it from and began to prepare herself for some kind of bogus story he'd probably give as she was running her thumb across his dry, purple colored bruise. Her heart ached at his pain, even though she had no idea what his pain was, and she felt all of her strength crumble down until it was a mess on the floor.
He reached up and grabbed her arm by the wrist, hoping to halt her hand from tracing his broken and cracked lips, and he pushed them together to take away the destination of her reach. He heard words forming in his head, as though it was completing an equation, and he pushed up on his legs as he struggled to stand on shaky legs. He dropped her arm as he stepped to move passed her, surprised when her hand wrapped around the belt loop at his hip and pulling him to her.
"I don't know what to do," she whispered to him as she stood up, hoping in all of her right mind that Alex was actually asleep in the chair closest to them. She followed him as he glanced over his shoulder to have a look at Alex and walked towards the sliding glass doors – he felt so behind. "I don't want to punish him for tonight but I feel like I should."
She continued to ignore that Luka had, in fact, taken the same response as Alex – but she somehow figured that he'd already gotten his punishment from someone else.
"Sam, don't," Luka sighed gently as he turned his body towards her slightly, and he dragged a hand through his hair, "chances are that he's going to start feeling depressed, and on top of that he's already grounded from last night. He'll hit depression even faster being locked up in the house without anything to take his mind off of it. Let's face it, Sam; no matter how much we hate it, the guy still is his father."
She nodded as she noticed him take a step back, physically and emotionally, as his voice seemed to begin sounding condescending to a point that would drive her mad. She was willing herself not to let go, but she took a step back anyway, absentmindedly covering her abdomen with her hand.