Rushing through the dense treeline, Senior Constable Charlie Davis was in hot pursuit of the Evening Basher who had been spending his twilight time cracking victims in the head at random around Ballarat.
Having lost sight of the Basher, the Constable stopped at the edge of a clearing. Trying to see through the dimming light, he noticed a small sapling that seemed to be leaning over and touching the ground.
Adrenaline fighting with his survival instinct, Charlie approached the leaning tree. Once he had gotten closer, he could see a shadowed figure next to the bowed sapling.
"Freeze, police!" shouted the Constable, only to have the sampling snap back at him, whipping him across the forehead in reply, sending the constable flat on his back to the forest floor, barely clinging to consciousness.
On the verge of waking and edge of nothingness, the Australian copper tried to hold on to the only thing he could feel, a throbbing in the front of his skull.
With every step closer to regaining consciousness, the more significant the pain became. Charlie wanted nothing but to let go and avoid the pain of waking, but a nagging feeling in his gut told him that he needed, no, he HAD to wake up.
His eyes flickered open, slowly taking in his blurry surroundings in bits and pieces; tree canopy, tree trunks, the grass and mulch flooring of the woods. Then the smell of the trees started to reach his senses, helping take more steps back to the present, his memories started to flood back to his mind.
Running, he was running, danger, the Basher and pain!
Panic and a new flood of adrenaline came shooting through his body, overriding all pain. He jumped to his feet, eyes wide at first but they quickly screwed shut as a stabbing pain shot through his eyes, and a wave of nausea threatened to make a rude appearance. Even in his state, he could feel himself swaying, so he dared not move from his spot, silently praying that the Basher had left.
The cawing of a magpie in the waning light made Charlie jump as he was finally able to look around when his blurred vision cleared. A feeling of something warm running down from his hairline to his eyebrow prompted the Constable to brush his forehead with unsteady fingers that dipped into the gash he discovered by accident, sending a fresh shot of pain through his head.
"Jesus!" he choked as he stumbled forward, catching himself on a tree as a burning feeling rose in his throat. He swallowed hard to keep the sickness down.
Charlie looked about the scrubby forest. As worry started to creep in, he realized he was not sure from what direction he came from.
Taking a slow, steady breath, "Come on Charlie what would the Doc do?" he asked himself.
"Where was the sun setting when I started?"
"To my left!"
Charlie looked to the setting sun now behind him, "The sun was to my… left. So now to… my right?"
Why was it so difficult to think?
"Because you got hit on the head," offered a familiar voice. Charlie looked to a nearby tree to see Bill Hobart leaning against the tree.
"Bill?! Wha- Where's the rest of the backup?" Charlie questioned as a foggy thought at the back of his mind tried to tell him something was not right.
Bill looked at him with an amused smile, "What backup? Did you remember to call backup before you tried to be a hero and chase after a dangerous and violent suspect?"
As what appeared to be Hobart had spoken, the sick feeling in Charlie's stomach returned with a vengeance. He once again barely managed to hold on as Bill Hobart looked on with a raised eyebrow in a questioning look.
"You don't look so good maybe you should lay down eh?"
"Will you shut up!" He shouted, only to find Bill no longer there and a chill ran through the constable "Hobart?!"
A sharp snap of a twig against the forest floor made Charlie freeze in silence as another snap and crunch echoed through the woods.
Charlie tried to bring out the cop in him, but the injury to his head was making it difficult and it felt like his reactions were not his own.
I've gotta get out of here!
Controlled panic started to take overl the young Constable as he started to walk towards where he entered the forest or where he thought it was.
Flight taking a full hold of him, he moved like prey through the forest as another snap happened behind him, and his pace quickened. Even in the low light, Charlie could tell his vision kept unfocusing on the wilderness before him.
The feeling of a predator following him haunted him. Charlie made his way unsteadily as another crunch happened much closer than the others. Another one then silence. Charlie took several shallow breaths as he tried to see through the woods at who or what was following him. It gave itself away as a giddy, high-pitched laugh sounded through the trees, and in the split-second, Charlie could remember the reports of one of the survivors of the Basher describing an animalistic howl before they were hit.
Then the horrendous laughing, like something out of a nightmare, came rushing towards the Constable.
Survival instincts told him to duck and hide and he did so behind a downed log. The laughter and footsteps ran past him but stopped not eight meters from him. Charlie could see the figure that even in the twilight fit the description witnesses had reported; tall and oddly swaying like a lanky man in a stiff breeze.
The figure looked about him and giggled and swayed as he walked away. Charlie managed to stand, but he got not more than two meters, and his vision once again went topsy-turvy. Pulsing pain shot through his skull and caused him to groan, and the laughter stopped. Charlie turned to see the Basher facing him as if at a standoff, then he charged the constable.
Even in the twilight, Charlie could see the whites of the Basher's eyes coming at him full tilt. What happened next occurred at such a speed it barely registered in Charlie's mind.
The constable's hand reached for the torch still stuck in his duty belt, pulling the heavy steel instrument out as the Basher closed the meters. With all his might, Charlie swung the torch but the Basher sidestepped the constable's swing and tackled him to the ground.
The Basher's weight surprised Charlie; the wiry figure felt like he had over thirty-four kilos on Charlie as the young copper struggled to gain an advantage on the psycho.
Charlie's death grip on the torch was broken and the Basher took the steel light source and pressed it to his prey's throat. Charlie only just managed to get a hand between the torch and his exposed neck, with his other arm pinned under the Basher's knee. Then the Basher placed his full weight and two hands on the metal torch as he attempted to crush the Constable's neck.
Charlie could feel more and more pressure against his throat, unable to fend off the attack with just one arm. His breath started to get cut off, his lungs started screaming for air and his vision started to dim. Charlie recalled one of Blake's off-handed remarks from a case about a nerve on the underside of the shoulder. Charlie slipped his hand out from the torch, letting it press deeper into his throat and pried his other hand free of the Basher's weight. He struck out at the armpit of the Basher, landing it solidly. Charlie could instantly feel the pressure let up and air entered his lungs. They were still burning but he was breathing freely now. The Basher howled in pain and clutched his arm to his side.
Charlie used this to his advantage and twisted his hips and torso, showing the Basher onto the ground. But his hunter didn't stay there long. Almost instantly he jumped to his feet again but so did the Constable, who managed to pick up the fallen torch. As the Basher attempted to take down Charlie once more, the copper swung the torch again. This time he didn't miss and the crack of the torch against the Basher's skull sounded throughout the forest.
Charlie stood there staring at the fallen foe fearing he might rise up once again but he did not. The constable reluctantly turned on the torch and it flickered to life. When it did, charlie realized the glass plate on its front was broken and shattered but even in the flickering and damaged light of the torch, Charlie could fully see the Basher laying still and dead on the ground, head ironically bashed in. Normally, Charlie might have found the irony notable in a different perspective but the brutal nature of the wound disturbed him as the content of the Basher's head ran and seeped onto the grassy floor.
He had done that, Charlie thought to himself. He had killed the killer with his own methods. Charlie felt sick. Shooting someone would be bad enough, but this... this was different.
His breathing out of control, an uncontrollable shake started to overtake him and Charlie finally got violently sick on the ground. On all fours and unable to tell if he was shaking from getting sick or fear, he collapsed on his side and pulled his knees up to his chest, his eyes closing and tears starting to flow freely. Suddenly a gentle voice spoke to him.
"Charlie?"
Charlie looked up to see his mother kneeling before him, glowing as if she were an angel in the night.
"Mum?" Charlie sobbed.
"Oh my boy, what has the world done to you?" she asked as she caressed his cheek and lovingly brushed his hair back.
"Mum, I'm so scared," he whispered
She smiled down at him. "We are all scared, Charlie, we just have to learn to not let the fear rule us."
The touch of her hand warmed his cheek comfortingly.
"I'm so tired," he told her as his eyes started to shut.
"Charlie. You cannot go to sleep."
Charlie would have chuckled if he didn't feel as he did. "You always were telling me to get to bed, and now I can't."
"You have to get help. You need to get help."
Charlie looked once again into his mother's caring eyes as she offered her hand. "Let me help you."
Reaching for her hand in instant Charlie found himself standing in the spot where he had been laying, the body of the Basher laying where he mother was gone, leaving Charlie in sadness, wondering if he'd ever see her again.
Stupid idiot, you won't if you don't get out of here!
With the final flickers of the setting sun showing through, Charlie reset his course back to where he first entered the forest.
The surrounding woods seemed to blur before Charlie's eyes, like paint running off a canvas. Charlie felt himself swaying as visions of all sorts passed before his eyes. Stumbling solidly into a tree, Charlie managed to grip it for support and remain standing. He readied himself.
"The tree line has to be close now," he grunted and stood as straight as his body would let him. He took only a few steps before another voice interrupted his progress.
"Are you sure you're going the right way?" a familiar critical voice questioned.
Charlie took a steadying breath and turned to see Bill Hobart standing before him again, head cocked to the side as if trying to seem genuinely concerned but the smirk told a different story.
Taking a sudden motion towards the appearance of the other police officer, Charlie shouted unintentionally "Hobart I swear to God if you don't shut up I'm going to bloody deck you!" Once he stood toe to toe with Hobart a snap echoed throughout the nearly pitch dark forest
"Did you hear that?" Hobart asked
Charlie's heart jumped into his throat. "The Basher is dead… isn't he...?" he said aloud to no one in particular.
Charlie stood as still as the trees around. His ears rang while he tried to hear what else was there. Then he heard it.
A rustling and crunch of fallen leaves, followed by a high pitch and maniacal laugh. All reason left and Charlie's animal survival instincts took over completely. He rushed as fast as his disoriented body would allow as the last bit of sun dropped low enough to stop shedding direct light and only the dim glow remained as the only focus point for Charlie, The un-humours chortle seemed to be to his left. Even at the pace he was trying to run at, the wound on his forehead weeping a fresh gush of blood down his face, Charlie continued like a rabbit on the run from the fox. Nothing stopped him, not the bush whipping him nor the branches scratching him as the howl of the Basher cut through the forest.
Charlie broke out of the forest into an open, grassy area and he could see his car parked on the side of the road next to the Basher's beaterbox of a car. Finally out of the forest but with no cover to be had, Charlie moved with the ache in his head starting back with a vengeance he couldn't slow, not when he was so close to escaping, with the car within a hundred meter away. Suddenly a noise cut through the ringing in his ears, the rapid thumping of heavy steps running on the ground, pursuing him.
With the sound closer than the car, Charlie did the only logical thing. He turned and threw a fist as hard as he could. It connected solidly to a face that gave a yelp in response and Charlie continued for the car when arms wrapped tightly and trapped him. Charlie tried dragging himself through the grass like a wild animal fighting for its life, Charlie tried everything he could; thrashing, punching, kicking and then a new voice reached him.
"Charlie, stop it!"
While he didn't give up his grip on the arms that trapped him, there was something about the voice that made Charlie stop.
A torch shined in his face. Charlie winced in the bright beam and the person quickly moved it out of his eyes and kneeled closer "Charlie, are you with us?"
Charlie could only stare a moment. He was just fighting the Basher, how could Blake be here… How could he be safe at home?
"Doc?" Even in the low light he could see Blake's face relaxing, relieved.
"Yes."
Charlie released his hand on the offending arms which still held him but now released and Charlie turned to see Lawson grimacing in pain as he tried to stand, his leg giving him hell for trying.
"Boss?" Charlie's mind was still reeling.
"Doc?" he asked again, almost like a child worried their parents left.
"Yes, I'm here."
An approaching person snorted an oddly wet snort.
"Like you were any help."
Lawson wasn't in the mood for this.
"Cut it out now!"
Hobart looked on into the light of the torch and Charlie could see he had rivers of blood flowing from his nose.
"He bloody broke my nose!" Bill Hobart shouted back but Lawson's look quickly silenced him.
It was Charlie's turn to snort.
"I told you I would," he replied, slurring just enough for Blake to shoot a worried look at the rest. "What happened Charlie?"
Charlie's mind was not processing and his memories were starting to blur into each other.
"I was following the Basher and…"
Lawson interrupted.
"You bloody fool! You went after the Basher on your own?" Charlie's mind could not form an appropriate response. "And you didn't even call back up?" Lawson continued.
"He's dead" Charlie meekly offered, his brain finally catching up to the conversation. It was also only now Charlie became aware of Blake examining his head, followed by a shooting pain as he applied a pocket handkerchief to the side of his forehead.
"Mathew, we need to get him to the hospital."
It was Charlie's turn to interrupt.
"No, no hospital! I want to call my Mum." Tears started to well in his eyes and that caused even Lawson to shoot him a concerned look, as he observed the Constable lying in Blake's arms.
"Davis? What do you mean the Basher is dead?" Charlie's tears started to roll down his cheeks but his eyes went blank.
"I… I killed him with my torch, in the woods," he offered quietly. Lawson turned to Bill.
"Go and see if you can find the body."
Hobart replied with a look of disbelief "What?" he questioned thickly and nasally with a rag pinched around his nose to stop the blood flow. "Not without backup, sir."
Lawson's nerves stretched beyond the limit "Then get some bloody backup and go check!"
And Hobart huffily, as much as a man with a broken nose could went to call for backup, leaving Lawson and Blake to deal with Charlie.
As Hobart departed, the remaining pair turned back to Charlie, whose eyes were now half shut and started to flutter, struggling to stay open. Lucien as gently as possible tapped him on the cheek.
"Charlie?" his eyes flickered open slightly more for a second then repeated their efforts to close on their own.
"Charlie?!" Blake tried more forcefully to rouse the semi-conscious Constable in his arms who mumbled incoherently for a moment but finally formed a semi-coherent word
"Doc?" but he quickly trailed off as his eyes rolled up and back.
"Davis!" Shouted Mathew, jolting even the severely concussed Charlie from his state.
"Wha!?" Charlie slurred, his police training trying to desperately override his injured-self. Lucien shot Lawson a dark look.
"What? It's no different than what you were doing."
Lucien overlooked Mathew's way of caring for the moment and turned back to his charge, as he still barely conscious managed to say:"I want to go home now." Heavy lidded eyes pleaded with Blake.
"You really should go to the hospital Charlie, there could be more damage to you than even I can see."
Charie half shook his head which forced him to squeeze his eyes shut while a burst of pain shot through his skull. After breathing through the pain for a minute it seemed to diminish and Charlie opened his eyes again, looking up at Lucien and Lawson. "Please... I don't want to go there. I just want to go home."
Against his better judgment, Blake made a decision. "Alright Charlie, home we'll go. Up we get, gently now." And Blake managed to get Charlie into a sitting position and squat behind him.
"Alright, the difficult part now." He took Charlie by his armpits and tried to ease him into a standing position, causing Charlie to gasp in pain and nearly collapse altogether if Blake hadn't been there holding him.
Headlights appeared and pulled into the lot. Hobart and newly arrived additional officers made their way past the trio, Hobart leading them casting Charlie a mixed look of concern and still boiling fury. Lucien, still supporting Charlie, almost completely kept talking to him encouragingly. "Alright, only a few meters and we're at the car alright."
Charlie did little more than grunt a response and it was unclear if it was an answer or from the pain.
"I'll get the door." Mathew took an extra half step ahead leaning heavily on his cane and moved ahead of the two.
At the car, Lawson opened the back door to Lucien's car and brushed papers that were occupying the seat off. Blake leaned Charlie up against the side of the car, unable to let him go even for a second. In a bit of distress, he looked to Lawson who read his mind.
"I can't drive," he indicated to his lame leg. Turning to Charlie, Blake called to him ,trying to prod him awake.
"Charlie, can you hear me?"
Charlie continued to try and look at Blake but his eyes were making their own decisions as they kept losing focus and half rolling up and back. "Doc… ev… everything keeps spinning," he whispered. "I'm so tired," he managed. "I wanna go'n sleep," his words blending together.
Lucien looked to Matthew. "He can't go to sleep, not right now." Lawson looked to the group of officers exiting the woods, torches shining bright.
"You can take my driver, he's new but he knows where to go."
Blake nodded at the idea. "Thank you."
Mathew scoffed. "Better you than me. Chancellor!" Lawson shouted, spooking Charlie, and caused one of the torch bearers approaching the vehicle to freeze.
"Get over here, you're driving them to the Blake residence… WELL?" the frozen individual hopped to it and double-timed it to the vehicles.
"Mathew, I'll get in and you hold him up till I get him." Lucien instructed Matthew who took charge of Davis as best he could. The Constable's eyes were mostly shut but his head slowly lolled back and forth as Lucien got into the other side of the back seat. Charlie opened his eyes once again and they focused on Lawson standing face to face with him and a trace of panic appeared on Charlie's face. "Boss?!" he nearly stood straight up but Lawson pushed him forcefully against the side of the car. "Davis, if you even think of saluting right now I'll have you on desk duty for a month."
Blake was now ready to pull Charlie in and Lawson maneuvered the unsteady Constable to the door opening. Blake once again grabbed hold of him and pulled him to the back seat sitting up against Blake as the young officer took his place in the driver's seat.
"Ready sir?" he asked Blake who nodded and turned to Charlie slumped and head-leaning on his shoulder "Let's get you home."
At the Blake residence at this hour on a normal night, Jean would have been in bed, but tonight was far from normal. There was a psychopath on the loose which caused Jean to triple check the locks. Just before she'd gone to bed the phone had gone off. It was Matthew summoning Lucien to immediately come but it was not at the station, that much he had told Jean but nothing else. Though it was not difficult to figure out what the call had been about. She had heard Lucien's answer to the call.
"What happened?"
"He hasn't called in?"
"Where?"
"I'll be there as quickly as I can."
The look on Lucien's face stuck in her memory, a look of concern, and a touch of fear.
"What is it?" she had asked him
"Charlie went to check on a lead of this Basher and hasn't called in."
Jean went through the memory again for the umpteenth time since Blake left, thinking about how neither had said goodbye, just shared a reassuring word. How they were both sure Charlie was safe and that he'd be home as soon as he was able.
The clock on the mantelpiece sounded off for two o'clock in the morning when she heard the rumble of a car engine she was familiar with. Discarding her cup of cold tea on the table, she headed for the door. Spying through the window she could just see Lucien's car and Lucien himself opening the back door and climbing out, keeping his back turned and supporting someone in the back, when another person jumped out of the front. An officer she was unfamiliar with. Unable to wait and find out what was happening, Jean opened the front door, hell bent for the car.
Officer Chancellor jumped at the sound of the door opening and Lucien looked over his shoulder, seeing Jean who had approached enough to see Charlie sitting slumped in the back seat with a dark stain of something across his face. "Oh God Lucien!" she exclaimed.
"He's alright dear." Looking towards Chancellor who stood a bit awkwardly to the side.
"Jean, this is Officer Chancellor, Chancellor, Mrs. Beazly." In the dark, Chancellor tipped his hat toward Jean. "Ma'am," and went to try and help Blake with the weak and woozy Charlie.
Blake managed with Chancellors help to ease Charlie out of the back of the car. " Would you go and prep the surgery, Jean? We have to clean him up."
"Yes of course." She looked concernedly at Charlie's swaying figure again and quickly returned to the house flicking on the lights as she went forward to surgery.
For the first time in several minutes, Charlie came around a bit, focusing on the doctor who had one of his arms pulled over his shoulders. Then he looked towards the direction Blake was moving him and through the wavering vision, he could see the Blake residence.
"Home," he managed before swallowing thickly.
"Yes, just hold on a bit more" Lucien encouraged and the trio painfully slowly made their way into and through the house.
Once they got to the surgery the door was propped open with Jean organizing supplies as Lucien and Chancellor brought in their charge.
In the light of the surgery the dirt and blood coating Charlie was even more evident with mud, grass and leaves stuck to his uniform and blood… so much blood that it caused even Jean to stare for a moment, where the large gash struck vertically from the left side of his face at his hairline down to his eyebrow.
Blake released Charlie's arm and grabbed him gently by each shoulder steadying him as Chancellor stepped back again a bit awkwardly.
"All right Charlie I need you to sit down so we can see what we have here." Charlie's eyes found his and stared almost through Lucien, making him glance concerned at Jean who still stood ready with the equipment she'd gathered.
"I wasn't sure what you'd require so I grabbed all the basics," she informed the doctor.
"Excellent and some towels so we can clean this blood away hmm." Blake said more aloud than to anyone specifically.
The semi-forgotten Officer cleared his throat. "Erm, do you need me for anything else sir?"
"No no that is quite alright Chancellor, thank you." Blake's eyes never left Charlie, assessing the wounds and looking for other damage.
Jean stepped toward the surgery's door. "I'll see you out and grab some towels," and she led the young officer out, leaving Blake and Charlie alone.
Charlie sat in silence as Blake examined him which seemed eery to Lucien, especially since he had just been so inquisitive. Even in the condition he was. While Charlie was not the most talkative, he was never completely silent especially when he was the subject in his care, Blake mused as he removed Charlie's filthy and blood marred jacket then set it down.
"Let me know if this hurts." Lucien stated as he started palpating across Charlie's chest and side. Charlie didn't respond. Lucien's eyes fell on a particularly nasty contusion quickly forming on the left side of his chest and he expertly skimmed it, checking the ribs "Okay Charlie I think this can wait till I've had a better look at the head wound of yours."
"It's nothing." Charlie finally said but the words were hollow and emotionless.
"Well I think I'd be best to judge that, don't you?" as Blake tried to look for the source of the caked blood, Charlie pulled away sharply.
"I said it's nothing!"
Even with his battlefield tested nerves this shocked Lucien "Charlie, I'm just…" Blake couldn't finish his sentence or approach the wound as Charlie stood from the table and backed away from the doctor defensively. "I said leave me alone!" Charlie shouted at him.
In the state he was in, Blake now fully looked at the young man before him in an opened button down shirt and police trousers and his shoes still caked in grime. He needed to check him out, but it seemed almost impossible now. He knew Charlie's mind and body were trying to process what had happened to him. Blake tried to approach him again.
"Charlie?"
Davis backed away, overloading with emotions, tears swelling in his eyes and his body shaking "NO! Don't you come near me!" Charlie shouted, obviously affected by the concussion as his body started to give out on him once again. He collapsed with tears free-flowing down his cheeks. Blake moved in slower than before, until he was at Charlie's shuddering form. "It's all right lad." Blake assured him as he gently placed a hand on the Constable's back, rubbing lightly "It's alright."
Choking back a sob Charlie looked to him. "What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing we can't fix," Blake offered as Jean peeked into the examining room silently asking if it was alright for her to enter. Blake gave her the affirmative, and she came in brandishing the towels she had gone to fetch.
Taking one and soaking it in a basin of water, she brought it to the huddled men crouching and she gently wiped the blood and mud from Charlie's slowly looked up at her and his ice blue eyes tinged in fear. Jean looked to Lucien. "Maybe we should get him somewhere more comfortable?"
"I agree."
"But first…" and Jean pointed to Charlie's dirty shoes and the trail they tracked in. Lucien chuckled softly
"Of course my dear, come on Charlie up you come slowly." And with Charlie braced in his arms, Lucien got him to a standing position but with the fit over, Charlie seemed ever more exhausted than before as his eyes nearly shut even with him standing "No, no Charlie lets get you upstairs first."
A barely audible acceptance was enough of a reply as Jean reached down to Charlie's shoes and removed them, leaving him in his socks. The two led the weak young man out of the surgery, up the stairs to his bedroom.
Once there, Jean went to pick out some clothes for Charlie. A set of pajamas and briefs. Catching Charlie's look, even in the state he was in he was still uncomfortable with her picking out his underclothing led her to almost laugh. She thought back to all the years she set out her son's clothes only to have a grown man nearly blushing at her doing so. But priorities had to come first and she walked past Lucien who was still supporting Charlie and turned down the bedding.
"Let's just get him taken care of and I'll change the sheets later," Jean instructed. In a normal situation Blake would have laughed at the prospect of Jean volunteering the pristine white sheets to be mudded and bloodied but now was not the time. Charlie was fading fast. He was seated on the edge of the bed, he immediately started to fall backwards, only to be caught by Blake and Jean on either side of him.
Jean clambered up carefully behind him supporting him as Blake grabbed one towel and Jean a new one and the two worked on cleaning the dirt from his skin and wounds as best they could, eliciting only a few moans from Charlie when doing so. Blake took up a position with gauze and antiseptic in hand and proceeded to wipe off the gash on his forehead, causing Charlie to wince and pull away, only to be stopped and held by Jean who shushed him as Blake continued his work till the blood stopped.
Grabbing additional gauze Lucien begun wrapping it around the wound and securing it.
After the two lay the now semi-conscious Charlie to the bed, Jean and Lucien looked to each other then started to undo Charlie's trousers and socks. Even in the state he was in he whimpered in embarrassment as his trousers were undone.
"Oh don't worry Charlie, nothing I haven't seen before and if it makes you feel better I'll turn my back while Lucien helps you." Shooting the doctor a slight smirk even in the situation made Lucien's lips twitch with amusement. Having Jean see anything at a time like this was the least of Charlie's problems.
With Jean's back turned to them, Blake helped Charlie shimmy his stained and torn trousers down and handed them in Jean's direction. She reached back without looking and took them and the discarded dress shirt.
"I'll have them washed and mended as best I can but I'm not a miracle worker. Blood doesn't come out of fabric easily." And she left them once again.
With Charlie down to his under clothing, Blake pulled up the sheet to Charlie's waist and without someone forcing him to sit up Charlie laid back on the bed and closed his eyes.
"Charlie?" He didn't move and only groaned a response as Jean returned. She saw the situation and went to Charlie and gently rubbed his shoulder.
"Charlie, you have to stay awake just for a few more minutes."
He moaned but didn't move. In unison, Jean went to Charlie's shoulder and with Blake's help eased him into a sitting position and Jean sat with him keeping him there. He moaned his grievance, followed by a "Mmm gonna be sick."
Blake, already prepared for such an event, grabbed a medical pan and held it for him as he got sick. After a minute of heaving with nothing coming up he relaxed back into Jean who took a cloth and wiped his mouth and brushed his matted hair back. As Blake got several small towels and dampened them, Jean reached out and he gave them to her and she gently wiped Charlie's neck and back down. Once done cleaning the sweat and caked dirt from him, the two finally eased him back and he swallowed thickly.
"Charlie, why don't you lay on your side just in case, alright?"
Lucien instructed and helped turn him slightly to the side. "Do you want some water?"
Charlie groaned a decline
"Okay, but you will have to try in a bit alright?"
"Mmkay.. Doc? Mrs. Beazley?"
Both Jean and Lucien looked at the young man lying bandaged and ill looking on the bed.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you where I was going," he said sleepily.
"It was a rookie mistake and I shouldn't have followed him into the woods."
The two looked at him.
"Oh Charlie." Jean sighed and gathered the covers and pulled them up to his chest and tucked it around him, followed by Lucien taking his hand.
"The important thing is you're safe." And Blake went to turn out the light.
"Doc, can you leave the light on?" Charlie asked quietly.
"I think it's better if.."
"Please I... I don't wanna be in the dark right now."
"I'll sit with him for a bit," Jean whispered to Lucien.
"I'll go clean up the surgery then."
Giving Jean a light squeeze on the shoulder, he departed.
Jean pulled up a chair next to Charlie's bed and grabbed a book and settled in. Looking over her book, she saw Charlie staring at the ceiling, tears rolling down his cheek. Placing her book on the side of the bed, she took his hand.
"I'm sorry" he whispered. Jean huffed. "There's no need to apologize, Charlie."
"I'm sorry I tracked mud on the cleaned floors…"
If he did not seem so genuinely upset Jean would have come back with a sharper comment but she decided against it.
"Think nothing of it, I'll just wash them tomorrow," she smiled at him.
"And once you're better I'm sure you can help me clean the kitchen in repayment." She smiled wider and nudged his leg, teasing.
He smiled and closed his eyes. "I saw Mum," he said quietly. Jean's brow knitted in question but she quietly listened as his breath started hitching.
"I want sure I'd make it out of there." Jean could see the tears start to well and roll down even with his eyes closed.
"I didn't call her recently with everything going on and I thought I'd never get a chance to see her or tell her I loved her."
Jean's own eyes started to tear up. "Charlie." She whispered, seeing his hand gripping the sheets, knuckles white.
She took his hand in her hand causing him to flinch but didn't move away. She gently pried his fingers free of the blanket and held them as she moved and sat on the edge of the bed.
"It' will be alright Charlie." A stifled sob emerged from the young man laying before her.
He reached up and angrily wiped the tears away. "God, I feel so sick Mrs. Beazley" He looked pleadingly to her for help.
She hushed him. "It will be alright. You're safe now, just some time to heal." And gently smoothed back his hair, careful not to disturb the bandage covering the jagged wound on his forehead. Her mother instinct governed her; she started to hum a lullaby she sang to her boys when they were young.
As his eyes slowly shut to the comforting hum and the feeling of Jean running her hand over his hair he fell slowly to sleep, a feeling of safety and comfort finally finding him and easing him to a deep sleep.
Jean continued her humming as she sat back into the chair next to the sleeping boy's bed and looked out of the window where the lights started to rise behind the hills visible in the still dark house as a new day dawned.
She looked to Charlie lying peacefully as she heard the familiar steps come through the door to Charlie's room and stop behind her. Gentle hands were placed on her shoulders and a kiss was placed on the top of her head. She looked up to see Lucien's loving smile cast at her. She placed her hands over his and they watched over the sleeping young man who made it home to them.