Somewhere, somehow, he lost Bill. Charlie didn't know when and how, but suddenly, he was all alone. He was standing in the dark corridor, the torch in his hand the only source of fading light.
'This isn't right,' Charlie thought, feeling his heart beating wildly in his chest, skin covered in goose bumps. 'I shouldn't be here. We made it out, didn't we?'
For a flicker of a moment Charlie was sure this was just a dream. He shut his eyes, clenched his teeth and counted to ten. He told himself to wake up, bit down on the inside of his cheek so hard he could taste blood... yet when he opened his eyes, he was still there. In the asylum, in one of the corridors.
Charlie swallowed, fear gnawing at his insides painfully. Twisting and biting.
"Bill?" Charlie called out and his voice echoed down the corridor way too longer than it should.
"This isn't real," Charlie said, running a shaky hand over his hair. He could feel the grime under his fingers, crusted up blood and cobwebs. If this wasn't real... his mind did a very good job at convincing him of the opposite.
Did he really make it out? Wasn't Blake and Danny's arrival just a hallucination? What if he was still down there? Perhaps he went ahead and left Bill behind in the locker rooms. Perhaps...
Charlie turned around, raising the torch.
The staircase.
He was in the first corridor, the staircase behind him, filled with debris.
Charlie blinked, a horrible thought sneaking in.
What if everything was just a hallucination?
What if... what if Bill never made it out of the staircase?
'Or what if you are dead, and this will be the place you haunt forever?' said that little nagging voice.
Charlie shook his head, stumbling backwards into the wall.
No. No... that couldn't be right.
He wasn't dead. He didn't feel...
Charlie's mind flashed back to the car.
Blake was there, and Danny and Bill. They were all safe, driving to the hospital. Charlie was sure it had been real, because he remembered the pain... the agony that hit him... just before everything turned dark.
Could that mean...
Charlie whimpered, pushing his back against the wall. He felt the peeling paint and mould sticking against his uniform, felt the mortar underneath dug uncomfortably against his back.
How could he be dead and feel all that? How...
And the smell. It was still there, obtrusive and all encompassing, just like the darkness seemed to be. Mould, dust, sweat... things rotting. Underneath it, he caught a whiff of antiseptic, the smell of hospital, but that was quickly gone.
Only thing he was left with was the torch in his shaking hands and the feeling that the darkness was closing in on him. The feeling that the wall he was leaning against moved.
Charlie froze then scrambled away in panic.
It was a movement. A soft thump, accompanied by the dull sound.
"What the-" Charlie thought he might have gone round the bend. He pointed the torch at the place he occupied a second ago.
There was the wall. Nothing else. It was disgusting and ugly, but it didn't...
Thump.
Charlie yelped and fell back, the torch rolling out of his hands.
The wall moved.
It was as if someone stood at the other side of the wall and smashed it with a heavy hammer. But the sound was dull and the movement was soft, almost like a ripple. Almost as if the wall was... alive.
No. No way in hell.
Charlie rolled over, grabbed the torch that was thankfully still shining and scrambling up to his feet started to run.
He had to get out.
This couldn't have been real. Either he was dreaming or he hit his head or breathed in some spores, but there was no way in hell that this was real!
He recognized the corridor, the rooms he was passing by, although he didn't dare to look inside. It was the same place he and Bill had walked down so slowly last time... if that happened at all.
Thump.
The walls around him rippled again.
Charlie gasped, his hands instinctively covering his head. It looked as if the walls were squeezing together, as if the blasted building was alive and he was walking deep inside its clogged veins. He could feel the thump inside his head, behind his temples.
Inside his chest.
Charlie's feet were still careening him forwards, through the corridor that didn't seem to stay still. He was past the point of whimpering each time the thump came. It was coming in shorter intervals and if he paid it too much attention, he would have to start screaming. Charlie wasn't sure he would be able to stop.
"Bill!" he shouted, although he had little hope of finding his partner. But he knew the place, knew there was an elevator shaft and a locker room, just behind that corner. The corner that seemed to be getting farther and farther the faster he was running, until a sharp stab of pain in his side sent Charlie stumbling to the ground, gasping for breath and moaning.
Charlie put the torch down so he could wrap both his arms around his midriff, trying to stop the pain. He was sitting on his haunches, rocking and whimpering as another thump sounded loud, the ground underneath rippling in unison.
"Bloody hell!" Charlie growled, the fear turning into anger, fuelled by the growing pain and desperation. "Stop it! Just fucking stop!" he screamed into nothingness.
'Stop!' echoed around him and Charlie wanted to cry. 'Please, stop!'
Charlie stopped. He stopped whimpering, he stopped rocking. For all purposes, he stopped breathing.
Because he never said please.
"Who..." he spoke, or tried to. His throat felt scratchy and raw as if he had been screaming all day, though he was sure he did not.
'Please, stop!' the words came again and Charlie thought they sounded male. Almost familiar.
A chill run down his spine.
Could there be someone else? Could it be Bill, trapped in these walls?
"Hello?" he called out, not even daring to hope. "Anyone here? Bill?"
Silence, then another thump and Charlie felt as if the ground shook under his feet. Whatever was happening, it was speeding up. He didn't like it at all.
"Please? Help me!"
The voice sounded again, stronger and surprisingly closer. Definitely a man, but… Bill never pleaded or asked for help.
Charlie struggled back up to his feet.
He shone the light down the corridor but he barely saw few meters ahead. Perhaps the corner was right there, but it might've as well been miles away. He wouldn't know unless he resumed his walk.
What he could see, at the end of the light's reach though was another door. And if his hearing wasn't playing tricks on him, like everything else seemed to be, the voice came from inside that room.
Knowing full well he might regret it but unable to ignore the only other sign of human presence, Charlie slowly walked to the door.
He didn't even need his torch to shine at the sign on the wall to know where he was.
He did need the ever louder thump to make him take the first step over the threshold however.
Charlie's chest heaved, his hands clenched so tight he thought he might've been leaving behind a trail of blood from nails breaking through skin.
"Hello?" he asked, though this came out as barely a whisper.
"Help me, please!" came the begging sound and Charlie spotted movement.
He stopped, shining his torch towards one of the bath tubs.
He was in the hydrotherapy room. It looked almost the same as when he and Bill...
Charlie shook his head, unsure what he could believe.
The tubs were there though. Rusty and decaying, with canvas sheets still attached to metal bars. Six tubs, all empty...
Charlie paused.
That wasn't true, not anymore.
One of the tubs held a person, he could see. The canvas sheet was firmly in place, but he spotted a dark, wet head peeking out from the opening of the canvas. It was just the top of a head and it came up only long enough for Charlie to catch sight of a pair of terrified eyes, before it sank back into the tub. Charlie stood there, frozen, waiting for the person... was it really Bill? Or was it someone else? To come up again, but there was no sign of that. He could hear the sound of water running, dripping and saw that one of the hoses was stuck under the canvas. The tub was starting to overflow. Whomever was inside... had no space to breathe.
His initial horror of the situation was replaced by fear.
He had to do something, he had to help!
Charlie's feet rushed over to the tub, first grabbing the hose and trying to dislodge it to stop the torrent of water. It was stuck however and Charlie cursed. He reached for the canvas, hoping to rip it off, but that didn't work either. The canvas was held in place by several well made knots. It would take too long to undo even one of them, not to mention more.
There was no time.
He saw some air bubbles ripple through the surface of the water and knew that was it, that was the last of oxygen the person had in their lungs.
Thump.
Charlie cursed. He let the torch fall from his hand and stood right at the head of the tub with the opening. There was no other way.
He leaned over and reached into the cold water. And it was cold... like ice enveloping his arms. He leaned in forward, desperately reaching, trying to get hold of the man. Where was he? He should have felt something by now, he shouldn't have needed to reach more than few centimetres below the surface! The tub wasn't that large... yet he was almost shoulders deep in the ice cold water and it seemed like the tub was empty... but that couldn't be!
Thump!
The sound and shake of the floor was unexpectedly loud and violent.
Charlie startled and he lost his footing for a moment. His hands smacked against the sides of the tub, trying to right himself.
That little voice inside his head screamed at him to leave, leave right now!
Charlie didn't get the chance.
Two pale hands shot out from the dark water and grasped his wrists in a bone crunching hold.
Charlie let out a terrified scream.
He should've known better.
The hands tugged.
THUMP!
Everything shook and Charlie lost all semblance of stability. His hands slipped on the metal walls of the tub and as there was another tug, he felt himself toppling over.
Headfirst into the water.
Any kind of light vanished and Charlie's eyes closed against the icy water. He managed to close his mouth but didn't really have time to take in a deep breath. Even if he did, it would have left him surely as his whole body was encompassed in ice, the only warm spots his wrists. Those felt like burning, still trapped in someone's hold.
Charlie felt like he would go insane.
He couldn't breathe.
He trashed around, legs kicking, arms futilely pulling, trying to free themselves.
Nothing worked.
Thump. Thump.
He managed to dislodge his right hand but that didn't help. He rolled over, he smacked and scratched but all he could feel were the walls of the tub and the thick, unmoving canvas atop of it.
His panic was turning into physical sensation. His insides were on fire, his chest now thudding in sync with the thumping crescendo that was increasing in speed. He couldn't continue. There was no rescue in sight, only pain and misery. There was no air left in his lungs, the last of it escaping in a bubble of scream, rippling the surface.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thu-
The sound cut off.
Charlie went still.
His chest...
His heart.
Everything went still... silent. Even the pain had stopped.
'I'm dead,' Charlie thought with strange calmness. There was no need to fight anymore. It was over.
Charlie's eyes opened, the water no longer bothering him. It was still dark. It was silent too. His body was floating, no longer being held down by non existent hands.
It was... peaceful... and utterly horrible.
Charlie didn't want it to end like this.
He didn't want to stay in this suspended state of nothingness, just floating in darkness. Not with his mind present.
Was this all there was?
Shouldn't there be pearly gates awaiting him? Shouldn't there be burning pits of hell? Something? Anything?
Charlie didn't want to die if death meant this. He would have preferred fear over nothing. He would have preferred pain-
As if in response to his prayer, his insides twisted. Charlie let out a surprised gasp, gurgling water as he curled into foetal position.
Thump.
It was faint, but Charlie swore he could feel the vibration through the water. It felt almost as if it was coming from inside him.
Another sharp stab of pain and Charlie's foot kicked out, hitting the metal tub. Pain. He could feel that.
Thump.
'-lie!'
There was a voice... a different one. It was muffled and coming from great distance, but Charlie could still recognize the desperation it was filled with.
'Charlie! Don't you dare leave us!'
'Dad?' Charlie thought and it was as if someone slapped him across the face. His father was dead. Who else would there be to welcome him to the other side?
'Charlie! Please, come back!'
Thump.
There was a sharp pain in Charlie's chest. It felt as if someone hit him right on the sternum.
Thump. Thump!
Hands.
Fingers wrapped around his arms, squeezing tight. Pulling.
Images of his family rushed by in front of Charlie's eyes. His mother and brothers, playing on the beach. Rose, lying next to him on the grass during one of their picnics. Lawson, sitting behind the desk with a rare but all the more honest smile. Blake and Jean, settling down behind the dining table.
Friends and family, his past misdeeds and accomplishments. Loss and gain.
Everything there, then gone in a flash of light.
Charlie blinked.
Light.
He could see there was light behind his eyelids.
The hands were still tugging at his arms, pulling him towards the surface. Charlie opened his eyes and saw a shadowy figure above. He squinted. The image was blurry and confusing.
'Dad?' he thought, unable to ask.
His head broke through the surface.
THUMP!
His heart jumped, lungs screaming out for air.
Charlie blinked and the blurry face came into focus. The face was covered in surgical mask, but the eyes were clear and shiny. He knew those eyes.
This wasn't his father.
This was Blake.
He wasn't dead.
His eyes slipped closed and he knew no more.
Waiting.
Jean was always bad at it.
Oh, she could pretend it was fine, she could keep busy, but inside, it was pure torture. Right now, she was doing a half-ass job pretending, for the sake of Rose. Or perhaps for the sake of the poor police officers she was bombarding with questions, until they relented.
Jean couldn't even put up a scowl when Rose finally found out where Lucien and Danny were headed off. Though she did shake her head and grabbed Rose by the arm when she was about to call a bloody cab to get them there.
"Perhaps we should wait here?"
Rose scowled.
"If you want to stay, I'm not holding you back," she said harshly. "But I'm going to find out what happened to my uncle and Charlie."
Jean almost let her go. Almost.
"Wait, Rose. Please!"
Rose paused, even though she didn't seem all that patient.
"Lucien asked me to keep you here. Keep you safe, for Matthew's sake," she added quickly when she saw the storm clouding Rose's eyes. Now the anger was somehow diminished by a pout.
"I can take care of myself. And they might need help-"
"They were all armed, Rose. If we followed now, we might just pose a distraction."
"That didn't bother you when we came here and saved Danny now, did it?" Rose snapped back, pulling her arm out of Jean's hold and this time Jean couldn't come up with a better protest. Rose lifted her chin, as if in challenge but seeing Jean's shoulders drop, the smug look left her face.
"I just want to know, Jean," she said much softer.
Jean nodded and Rose smiled then turned to walk back towards the unfortunate officer who was trying to man the phone and coordinate with the newest arrivals, while also searching for some boxes they could use to try and salvage the mess in the office.
Rose used the moment he was talking to a constable that had just arrived bleary eyed and snuck to the phone to call the cab.
Jean waited for her in the hall when she heard the crackle of the radio apparatus and officer Lewis mentioning Matthew's name. She walked closer and listened, feeling profound relief at hearing that all three missing men were located and were mostly in one piece.
"Cab will be here in fifteen minutes," Rose spoke from behind and Jean jumped, startled.
"Lord, try not to scare me to death, will you?" she said, then smiled. "They found them. All three. They are alright," Jean couldn't but share the good news and Rose's eyes glinted, her mouth turning into a true smile. In the next moment Jean found herself enveloped in a strong hug.
"Thank you! That's wonderful! Are they alright? What happened?" Rose let out a barrage of questions while Jean chuckled and pulled back, shaking her head.
"I don't know anything else, Rose. I just overheard the radio and sergeant Lewis. Maybe we should ask him?"
Rose nodded and she was already pushing into the room, to the dismay of sergeant Lewis. After some wheedling, he basically just repeated what Jean already told her. Rose wasn't too happy with that and decided that they could still use the cab to go and meet them halfway. To which it was Lewis who protested.
"I can't allow you that, madam," he said and Rose raised a brow questioningly, arms on her hips. "Oh. And why not?"
Lewis blinked then stuttered.
"Well first, this is a police busine-"
"It's my uncle and best friend!"
"Nevertheless... they will be transporting back a possibly dangerous suspect. It would be rather unwise to approach them in such situation. I'm sure you understand, miss Anderson..."
Well, Rose didn't, but Jean at least managed to calm her down a bit.
"Why don't we wait for them here, Rose? We might actually take a different road and miss them altogether and that wouldn't be good," she said, a voice of reason.
Rose huffed, but acknowledged the smartness of it.
While they waited, a young police officer rushed past them towards Lewis. He looked taken aback, face paling. He gave a few shaky orders to the man who promptly left, then turned back towards the radio, squeezing it in his grip but not using it.
"What's going on?" Rose asked with suspicion but this time Lewis wasn't as forthcoming.
"The situation is under control," he muttered, waving them off then clicking on the radio. He started pestering Cunningham about a status update, voice still a bit too shaky for Jean's comfort. She shot a look at Rose and it was clear the younger woman was also suspicious. She was eyeing the door as if wanting to head out after the police officer that just left to find out what really happened, but the sounds from the radio stopped her.
Jean and Rose listened as Cunningham requested an ambulance for the injured. That was when Lewis grimly informed him about the failed attempt at rescue that caused the ambulance to swerve off the road and crash. Fortunately, there were no serious injuries but it seemed the hospital wasn't willing to risk anything.
Jean and Rose were following the situation with feelings of disbelief and growing worry. Who was hurt and was it bad?
A short while later there was the information that they will transport by their own means, but to inform the hospital.
Jean knew that wasn't good. If Lucien himself was asking to inform the hospital, that meant trouble.
A car horn blared in front of the building and she jumped, startled.
"The cab..." Rose said, though she seemed a bit unsure of what to do. They both wanted more than anything to drive out to the asylum and help, but Lucien was most likely already on the way to the hospital. Which was exactly where they should be going, Jean realized.
"Let's go," she said, taking hold of Rose's hand and gently nudging her towards the exit.
"Out a bit late ladies, aren't ya?" the cab driver asked as he saw them get inside his car. Jean shot him a glare and kept any comments to herself. "Where to?"
"Hospital," Jean said and felt Rose's form sag in the seat next to her.
That had been over an hour ago.
Almost half of that time was spent in waiting for Lucien to arrive. Rose and Jean were standing outside the hospital entrance, next to the door to keep some of the warmth but also to have a good view of the road. Every time they heard a car nearing, they tensed, squinting into the darkness.
Until Lucien's car appeared. Jean recognized it by the sound of the engine before it even turned the corner, or perhaps it was just her sixth sense. What she realized was that the car had been driving fast. It halted only few meters from the hospital entrance, breaks screeching.
Something was wrong.
Jean shot a look at Rose.
"Get the nurse!" she called out and rushed towards the car just as Danny jumped out of the driver's seat and rushed to the back door, totally ignoring her presence.
"Danny? What-" but she didn't finish. She saw her husband on the back seat holding tightly onto Charlie, who was making a sound she never wanted to hear again. She saw him arch his back then all the tension left his body as he sagged back on the seat. Unmoving, in her husband's arms.
There was a moment of utter stillness from all involved.
"Is he-" Danny spoke, his voice choked, eyes wide. His voice at least seemed to pull Blake from the strange trance. He put his visibly shaking fingers against Charlie's throat.
Jean waited.
It was only few seconds but it felt like eternity.
Blake let out a breath, shook his head.
"He's breathing. Just unconscious," he said and that seemed to get all of them into motion.
"Thank lord!" came from the front seat and Jean spotted a pale looking Bill, with his eyes locked on Charlie. Danny opened the door wide and leaned in, grabbing Charlie's feet.
"Wait, we need a stretcher-" Lucien spoke, but by then Rose had managed to warn the nurse and they already had a stretcher being pushed out from the hospital, along with an orderly.
Jean stepped aside, grabbing a wide eyed Rose and pulling her back as well.
"Wait. Let... let them help," she said, hoping Rose wouldn't notice how utterly shaken she was. The girl didn't hear Charlie's whimpers, wasn't there for what they all thought might've been his last breath. Jean was thankful for that at least.
What followed was a bit of a confusing mess and Jean wasn't sure she even took in everything. Charlie was whisked off, Lucien by his side. He managed to shoot her a reassuring smile, though seeing the worry in his eyes made it hard to believe. Jean grasped his arm as he passed by her and he gave her palm a strong squeeze before pulling away and vanishing behind one of the doors with Charlie.
That squeeze gave her enough strength to hold Rose back when she wanted to follow them.
"No, stay. We can't go in there," she said rather unnecessarily, as one of the nurse's shot them a glance, ready to step in if they so much as approached the door.
Rose wanted to protest, of course she did. But Danny appeared behind her. He stayed by the car until they loaded Bill into a wheelchair and pushed him past a different door. Jean barely noticed that and she felt a bit guilty for not paying much attention but she was still shaken from the scene in the car.
"Hey, come on. He'll be fine," Danny said, trying to sound reassuring, offering Rose his arms in a hug.
Rose blinked, only just realizing who was standing in front of her.
Jean should have warned him.
Well, he was a cop. He should have expected it.
Nevertheless, Danny did not. When Rose walked up to him, she didn't fall into his embrace. There was a loud slap first.
"You bloody jerk! You took my keys!" she hissed angrily into Danny's stunned face, even as he was rubbing his flaming cheek.
"What?" he yelped, voice jumping an octave in surprise.
"Keys! How dare you! I had a right to go and see my uncle and Charlie!" she unleashed a barrage of rather unladylike words and Jean took a step forward, planning to stop her before she caught the ire of the head nurse, but Danny interfered first. Without warning, he pulled her into a hug, effectively shutting her up. Whether it was from surprise or the mere fact Rose had her face smashed against his chest was unclear.
Jean snorted.
Then laughed.
Danny cast her a worried look.
She couldn't help it. All the tension of the night, all the stress just hit her. The chuckles turned into something that sounded more like a sob and when even Rose turned to look at her worriedly, Jean took in a hitched breath. She ran a hand over her eyes, brushing off tears and shook her head.
"It's fine. Just nerves," she said and tried for a smile. Rose pulled out of Danny's embrace and went over to pull her into a hug. Jean returned it, soon feeling Danny's arms around them as well. They stood there for a while then broke up the embrace, trying not to look too awkward about it.
The waiting game followed.
A nurse had discretely but rather pushily showed them the way to the waiting hall, where they could sit down and stop being in the way. Jean knew that if Lucien hadn't been the one rushing in with Charlie, they would be kicked out of the hospital altogether. It was, after all, the middle of the night. But the nurse knew Lucien and must've taken pity on them. Jean didn't even know how, but soon they were sitting in the uncomfortable chairs, each holding a cup of tea or coffee.
The silence didn't last long of course. Danny had soon become the unwilling suspect of a third degree interrogation about everything that happened since he and Blake had left the station.
Getting caught up meant only that their worry increased though. Worry and concern over what the three men went through in that dilapidated building, the victim of some elaborate but badly thought out plan and what appeared to be fate and its cruel sense of humour.
By the time Danny divulged even the last bit of information he had at hand, Jean's tea was ice cold. She still took a sip, if only to do something. She knew the waiting haven't ended yet. What was worse, she knew what would follow. Minutes, perhaps even hours of staring at the door, dreading their opening as much as craving it. Waiting for Lucien to step out and tell them the good news... or bad.
Before they got any word on Charlie though, Matthew appeared and that at least made the tension a bit more acceptable.
He started asking about the situation, frowning when he learned Charlie hadn't been even conscious upon arrival. As if by silent agreement, neither Danny nor Jean mentioned what happened in the car, neither of them wanting to worry Lawson or Rose more than necessary. Though Matthew must've sensed something was amiss, as his glare focused on Danny.
"Anything happened I should know about, Parks?" he barked.
Danny shook his head.
"Nothing you need to worry about, Boss," Danny said and his tone clearly told Lawson to drop it. Which he did.
"What about Bill? Any word on him at least?"
The trio exchanged a look of embarrassment, because neither of them thought about the man.
Lawson rolled his eyes and headed towards the nurse's desk.
"Well, his leg is definitely broken. They are keeping him for the night, he's already settled in a room," he reported upon his return.
"Can we visit?" Jean asked, feeling more than guilty of not even thinking about Bill.
"No. The nurse told me they had to drug him up to take care of that leg, he's sleeping it off. It's way past visiting hours anyway."
The tone implied that perhaps they should all be heading home, seeing as there was no way they would be able to see Charlie before the morning, whatever the case.
Of course, Lawson didn't say it out loud. He looked at one of the empty chairs wistfully.
"Sit with us?" Jean offered but he shook his head with a grimace.
"I can't. I need to get back to the station, try to mitigate the damage," he said with a tired sigh. "And it is quite a mess," Lawson added, shooting them all a glare that clearly said they will have a word or two about it. Danny cringed, Jean gave him a nonplussed look and Rose lifted her chin, as if ready for a fight right now and here.
Lawson most definitely wasn't though. He looked weary, dirty and in need of some food.
"Perhaps you can go home for a bit first? We left you a plate in the fridge. Take a shower and change your clothes?" Jean advised kindly.
Lawson grimaced.
"I wish. Earliest I can see myself home is once those bastards that attacked the station are shipped off to Sydney. Which should be in about-" he looked at his watch and his face fell even more. "Eight hours. Splendid. Well, I need to go. Any news-"
"We will call the station," Jean said quickly.
"Do you need me to come with you, Boss?" Danny asked a bit hesitantly. It was obvious he wasn't too keen on spending the night at his old police station having to deal with an irate boss, but the idea of waiting in the hospital seemed even more dreadful.
Lawson must've read that from his posture, because he smirked.
"Nah. You're on vacation. Stay here... keep an eye on the ladies."
Once again, the 'make sure they're alright' was implied from the tone and Danny nodded. Jean had to hide a smile as she realized he thought this was the worse place to be.
About an hour later, Jean wished she could've left with Matthew. To be anywhere but here in this dull, too silent and hot waiting room. All they were doing was watching the clock on the wall tick away slowly, waiting to hear the footsteps approaching, seeing the door open. Several times it had been a false alarm.
Once, the nurse came to tell them that Dr. Blake asked her to let them know Charlie is in surgery and so far he's holding up.
That at least calmed them down a bit, but when the small arm of the clock moved to another hour without more information, the concern had grown.
Not for the first time, Jean wished she had something to do. If she was a smoker, she would be outside, puffing out the hot air while her skin was covered in goose bumps in the cold morning. She didn't smoke though, couldn't remember when she held a pack of cigs.
She would have loved to have her knitting with her, that might've passed the time. But she rushed out of the house ready for war, not the waiting game, so her knitting was home. Along with any good book. So she sat in the damn uncomfortable chair, trying to think about anything but what was happening behind that closed door.
Next to her, Rose was sitting in a similar chair, her head leaning on Danny's shoulder. Jean watched the two for a moment.
At first, they bickered, Rose still not forgiving Danny for taking her keys. But the bickering faded away and as Danny pulled Rose close to him, she let him. Jean was surprised to see that she seemed to be actually sleeping, or at least slumbering and Danny wasn't far from that either. Then she realized they both spent the day travelling and must've been tired even before all of this mess started.
She sighed and looked at the clock. Ten past three in the morning. She couldn't stop the yawn breaking through at the mere knowledge of the late hour.
Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a moment, nothing would happen.
There were footsteps. With her eyes closed, she could focus on the sound. It was a familiar pattern, one that she knew well.
Her eyes shot open and she stood so quickly that her chair made a clanking sound.
"Wha-?" Rose startled, along with Danny.
The door opened and out stepped Lucien.
He looked tired, eyes rimmed red. She hoped it was from the glare of the light and not from crying. She dearly hoped so.
He stopped a few feet from them, hands in the air... and his lips turned up.
Even before he opened his mouth, Jean knew.
"He will be alright," Lucien said as Jean rushed at him to finally pull him into her embrace after the hours of waiting and worrying. He returned it, plopping a reassuring kiss on the top of her head as she let out a relieved chuckle. Behind her, Rose and Danny stood and approached, a dozen of questions spouting from their mouths.
For a moment, Jean pushed them out, focusing only on the feel of her husband's arms around her, holding on tight. On the sound of his heart beating strong and familiar by her ear. And the fact the worst of the waiting was over.
Waking up didn't use to be this hard.
On good days, Charlie's inner alarm went off before the alarm clock could start its wild ringing. He would get up with a grunt, but the world usually started making sense before he even reached the bathroom. What sleep lingered tended to vanish as soon as he stepped out into the crisp morning air for his run. He was what his brother Ray disdainfully called an early bird.
Thus it was with much confusion that Charlie had to fight his way back to consciousness as if he was swimming through molasses.
First thing he saw was Blake.
The man looked like he hadn't slept for a week, which was ridiculous because it was only the morning of next day. At least that's what he told Charlie when he asked, groggy and feeling as if something drained the life out of him.
"What... what happened?" he asked once Jean spoon-fed him a bit of crushed ice and he would have protested heavily, hating to be so helpless, but he couldn't find the strength for it. Even just moving his head was a chore.
When Jean's hand brushed the hair off his forehead, Charlie could only sigh and rest his eyes for a bit.
That bit ended up to be several hours. Charlie slipped into restless sleep. He didn't dream at first, or he didn't remember it anyway. All he knew was the feeling of being watched, of someone standing right behind his back. It didn't let him rest properly and when he came to the second time, it was with a bit of a start.
It was the middle of the day, he could tell as much from the light coming through the window at the end of the room. He looked around blearily, struggling to remember where he was or what got him there in the first place, trying to shake the feeling that he was trapped in some dark place. All he knew was that he was still too tired to do much more than squirm on the narrow bed. It was a far cry from his soft, big bed he had at Blake's house and that drove home the fact he was not home. Looking to his left he noticed another bed. It wasn't occupied and the room was otherwise empty.
Charlie frowned, moving his hand to try and rub the sleep from his eyes. He felt a tug of a needle in his arm. One look told him it was attached to a bag with clear liquid. Charlie unwittingly ran his tongue over parched lips. Damn, but he was thirsty.
Remembering Jean and the ice chips, Charlie moved his head up and about. His eyes caught sight of a glass with a spoon and water, or what might've been the ice chips at one point. Great. All he needed was to find someone to hand it to him... or take it himself.
He shot a look towards the door.
He could hear movement behind it, could even occasionally spot a figure passing by, but no one peeked inside the room. Charlie was a patient man, but he was also bloody thirsty. Trouble was, the more he thought about it, the more he needed to get that glass.
After what felt like an hour but was most likely barely a minute or two, Charlie had enough. He felt childishly annoyed and hurt by the fact there was no one there, even though normally he would hate for people to see him so helpless. But he was just too miserable to think clearly and let the emotions drive him. Well, at least it gave him some of the energy he needed to move.
He could do it. All he had to do was carefully roll over to the left, keeping his bruised or broken ribs supported by the pillow that was pressed against his side and reach over with the needle free arm to grab the glass. Should've been easy. For goodness sake, he was up and about with three broken ribs before. He surely didn't need to be attached to a bed now.
A moment later, as he was curled up, both arms wrapped around his midsection and face pressed against the pillow, breathing through gritted teeth, he realized that perhaps there was something else amiss.
He had a sudden flashback to the car drive and the growing misery, of Blake's arms wrapped around his torso being the only thing keeping him rooted to the reality. At the time he wasn't sure it was worth it.
As he was contemplating whether to press his nose against the pillow and use the lack of oxygen to knock himself out, the door to the room opened. There were hurried footsteps and a hand touched his chin to turn his head.
"Whoa mate, don't do that! Damn, I leave to grab some coffee with the cute nurse and you go and try to suffocate yourself? Not cool, Charlie. Not cool," Danny kept talking, sounding almost nervous.
Charlie grunted in response, shooting Danny something that might've been a glare.
"Alright there? Do I need to call the nurse or something?" Danny asked uncertainly.
Charlie gave it a thought, but shook his head instead. He wasn't sure what had happened but knew the nurse would most likely not tell him anyway. He seemed to ignore the fact she might actually help with the pain.
"You sure buddy?" Danny asked, looking doubtful. Charlie made a face at the familiarity. He was cool with Danny calling him mate, but buddy? Really? That was usually reserved for a younger kid. Charlie most definitely didn't want to be patronized right now.
Danny seemed to catch on though because he snickered.
"Don't like being called that?"
"Not really," Charlie said and grimaced once again, this time at the scratchy quality of his voice and the foul taste in his mouth. That, more than anything, reminded him of his original quest for the glass of water.
"Alright, I will stop calling you that, as long as you stop scaring the shit out of me."
"Huh?" Charlie felt a bit lost. What the hell was Danny talking about?
"You don't remember the car ride?"
Charlie gave a half shrug, wincing. The pain in his midriff was slowly abating as he stayed still. Perhaps that was the key... not to move. At all.
Of course, he was stuck in a rather undignified and slightly uncomfortable position, so staying still wasn't an option.
"I thought I killed ya when the car ran over that pothole and you fainted dead away," Danny kept talking, while Charlie was trying to very slowly and very carefully return to his original position on his back. Why the hell was he so weak and why did his insides feel so... tender?
"-then you started trashing around like a fish on sand-"
"What?" Charlie jumped in, feeling rather confused by Danny's diatribe. Also what the hell? He didn't remember any of it. Well, perhaps the fainting... Charlie felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment when he recalled Bill's teasing words in the car. That brought back the whole night and with it the realization there was so much more happening he didn't have a clue about.
Yet that still changed nothing about his blood awful weakness or the thirst.
"Can you-" he tried as he finally managed to get himself back on his back. Danny cast him an expecting look and Charlie suddenly wished Jean was here. Or the Doc.
"Where are... the others?" he asked, trying not to sound put off or needy.
"What, my presence is not enough?" Danny said, looking hurt. Charlie opened his mouth but Danny shook his head with a smirk.
"Joking. Relax. Uh... let's see. Jean and the Doc are home, getting some food and rest. Jean said they would stop by in the afternoon, bring you some stuff so you don't die of boredom here. Unless you decide to play your cards ... I think one of the nurses might fancy you. I'm pretty sure I can convince her to give you a sponge bath or something," Danny smirked while Charlie gave him a horrified look.
"Do that... and die... Parks," he growled, to which Danny just snorted.
Charlie would have persuaded the matter, because he saw the glint in the man's eyes, but he honestly didn't have the energy for that. Though he did feel a bit calmer at knowing Jean and Blake would be around. As long as he managed to be awake for that, he would most likely get all the answers he needed.
"Aren't you a ray of sunshine today," Danny commented, though it was clear he wasn't taking it personally.
Charlie fought back the urge to flip him the bird and go to sleep until someone more mature happened to come over. But by then he might actually die of thirst. He glanced to his left at the glass just out of his reach. Danny followed his gaze.
"Thirsty?"
Charlie unconsciously ran his tongue over his lips and nodded slightly, trying not to look desperate.
Danny handed him the glass and helped him into a semi-sitting position. Charlie wasn't sure quenching his thirst was worth the discomfort, but the moment the water touched his lips he changed his mind.
Danny didn't laugh at him or comment on his shaky hands and Charlie was grateful for that.
"Enough?" was all he said when Charlie finished.
"Yeah. Thanks."
"No problem. Next time you want help, just use the bell, alright?" Danny nodded towards the small bell lying on the bedside table and quickly put it on the bed, within Charlie's reach. "There's usually someone within earshot and a nurse is bound to check in on you once every while."
Charlie grunted. He wanted to ask Danny what really happened at the station or what was wrong with him, but with his most pressing need satisfied, Charlie's eyes begun to drop on their own accord.
He expected Danny to bid his goodbye as he yawned, but the man had just flopped down into a chair. Charlie blinked. He haven't noticed the chair before, nor the magazine that had been sitting on it, indicating that someone was there.
"Staying?" Charlie asked, wondering.
"Uh huh. For a bit."
"Why?"
Danny looked up from his magazine.
"Well, if you must know... if I leave now, Jean will want me to help out with lunch or something. I know her. She tends to keep busy whenever someone's hurt and if I'm around, she will keep me busy as well."
Charlie blinked. He wasn't sure Danny was right, though to be fair he was usually at work, trying to figure out who tried to kill Blake again this time, or often times the one being in harms way. In either case, he didn't think Danny would try to run away from Jean, especially since he was in town only for the weekend. His doubt must've been apparent, because Danny rolled his eyes with a sigh.
"Alright. One of your nurses is an old friend... she agreed to catch up during her lunch break. So... I suppose I'll be staying around for a bit still," he said with a smirk.
Charlie snorted.
"Knock yourself out," he wanted to say, though it was mostly lost in a yawn. Worn down, he fell asleep to the sound of Danny scanning through the magazine pages and softly humming something off tune.
Charlie wished he could've slept longer, but it seemed the nurses around had a different idea. Next time he opened his eyes Danny was gone, but there was a middle aged nurse taking his vitals. Charlie's first instinct was to pull away and protest such familiarity without a warning, but he quickly learned the nurse didn't have much patience for recalcitrant patients. She most definitely wasn't Danny's 'chosen one', he thought grimly.
He wanted to ask her what was the time so he at least knew how much time had passed and whether he could still expect Blake or any other visitors. But the moment he opened his mouth, she slipped in a glass thermometer and told him to stay quiet. While Charlie frowned in protest, she went one step farther. Using his silence, she pulled the blanket covering him down to his hips. Charlie's eyes widened and he reached for it automatically, but she just huffed and rolled her eyes at his 'antics' as she called it.
Charlie wasn't amused, but his possible embarrassment was forgotten the moment the nurse rolled up the flimsy hospital gown he was sporting and he got his first look at his torso.
Charlie almost snapped the thermometer in half as the nurse peeled off the bandage from his upper abdomen. He just now realized his ribs weren't actually wrapped and that might've been why moving around was so uncomfortable. As soon as the bandage was off though, he saw the fresh, angry looking scar across his abdomen.
Charlie blinked, staring at the wound and trying to comprehend how it got there.
"What-" he started but the nurse shot him a glare.
Charlie stayed silent, though not because he got frightened. Rather, the words weren't coming to him. He flinched as the nurse started checking the wound, pressing down very lightly near the edges.
"Painful?" she asked and Charlie was surprised to hear her voice was almost soft, caring. He gave a nod, his right hand reaching up to touch the fresh scar as if in a dream. The nurse's gentleness was gone though as she pushed the hand away.
"Don't touch it! Last thing you need is an infection, because your hands aren't sterile," she admonished and promptly changed the gauze, squeezing something squishy and cold on top of it before reapplying a fresh bandage. She pulled the gown back down and the blanket up. Then she checked the thermometer, humming and writing something down on a chart.
Charlie finally found his voice.
"What's... wrong with me?" he asked before the nurse could actually leave.
She raised her eyes from the chart, looking slightly taken aback.
"Nothing is wrong, Mr. Davis," she spoke reassuringly. "Your condition is acceptable after such a surgery-"
The nurse kept talking but Charlie's mind tuned her out, too busy trying to put together the reason why would someone cut him open like a fish. For a couple of broken ribs? That made no sense.
"Are you listening to me, young man?"
"Huh?" Charlie blinked and the nurse sighed.
"As I was saying, the doctor will stop by and answer all questions during the evening rounds. In the meantime, I'll bring you some pain medication and a bit of soup for lunch. You better eat that to build up strength then get some rest. Sleep is the best medicine after all," she added with a chuckle.
It was several hours later that Charlie finally got some clear answers to most of his questions. Blake had stopped by along with Jean, who brought him a bag of clothes, hygienic products and a few books. She was unpacking it for him, while Charlie was attempting to wake up fully. Whatever the nurse gave him after lunch seemed to have knocked him out and if not that, then the trip to the loo finished him off. He had to fight back a yawn as he watched Jean put the clothes into a small closet nearby.
"How are you feeling, Charlie?" Blake asked after he took a peek at his chart attached to the end of the bed.
"Like I'm... missing something," Charlie said. He truly meant memories or some peculiar detail. Not as Blake stated "Well, you're missing a spleen and couple pints of blood, so that's perhaps understandable."
Charlie thought he might've been missing also some brain cells, because once again all he managed was a confused 'huh?'.
Fortunately, there was Jean and she seemed to catch on to his confusion better than Blake. She shot her husband a glare, most likely for being so blunt.
"Charlie dear, did no one talk to you yet?" she asked as she stepped up to his bed and brushed a hand over his hair. Charlie let out a breath and shook his head. Before she could get angry about it though, Charlie sheepishly added: "Maybe. I don't know..."
He sighed then winced. Really, he was feeling like an idiot, like he was still stuck somewhere in the darkness, trying to find his way out.
"I was sleeping, most of the day," he admitted as Blake pulled up a chair to sit on the other side.
"That's quite alright, Charlie. You lost a lot of blood, it will take some time for your body to replenish that. Even with the transfusions."
Charlie grimaced. It seemed the more he knew, the worse it was.
"But... why?"
Blake shrugged.
"You must've gotten hurt during that fall."
Charlie shook his head.
"Wouldn't I've felt bad right then?"
"I doubt you were feeling all that good, but adrenaline can do a lot," Blake argued with a smile. Charlie had to agree with that.
"In any case, all the activity, pulling Bill around or climbing a rope didn't help. I'm sorry Charlie, but by the time we got you on the table it was safer to take out the spleen than trying to repair it. We almost lost you anyway," Blake added, his voice a bit choked and Charlie felt a shiver run down his spine. Blake's eyes, the worry in them, seemed awfully familiar.
Charlie swallowed, resting one hand on his side gingerly.
He had seen the wound and knew it would leave a nasty scar. Right now, that didn't even hit him. He knew logically it might look bad in the future, but Charlie wasn't vain. And he was a cop. Getting injured had always been a possibility at least, so albeit with reluctance, he came to terms with the chance he would one day face that risk and have to deal with scars.
What made his stomach churn in worry was something else. Something much more frightening.
"Will I be allowed back to work?" he asked, voice shaking slightly.
"Oh Charlie, don't you worry about that now," Jean said, reaching out and pulling him into a gentle hug. Charlie wanted to burrow himself into those arms, to push the thoughts about failed future out of the way and just listen to Jean, but he couldn't. He returned her embrace, but he kept his eyes on Blake, expecting the truth.
The man returned the look, not flinching away. Charlie thought he wouldn't even breathe, until he saw the reassuring nod.
"It might take a few weeks, but you should be back to bugging Matthew in no time," Blake spoke and it was only then that Charlie let out a choked sigh and pushed his face into Jean's shoulder, filled with relief.