A/N: Whump parts start here. Please ignore any medical or other inaccuracies for the sake of fiction :D

It was the same place, the same gym. Charlie wondered if all the fights took place here how come Johnson didn't already have the address. He was pretty sure it wouldn't be so hard to figure it out.

He didn't have much time to ponder that question though. As soon as he was whisked inside the building from the car, he was pushed back into the now familiar locker room. This time however he didn't get much time to sit around or try to sneak out. Shortly after his arrival, Kenneth and Douglas entered the room.

Charlie haven't seen them through his whole stay at the house. He did hear Kenneth, but fortunately the man didn't deem it important to grace him with his presence. Charlie was grateful for that. Now seeing Douglas there as well made him slightly more apprehensive.

"Here is the star of our night," Douglas started and Charlie cringed at the jovialness of his tone. "Ready to kick some ass?"

"Do I have a choice?" Charlie grumbled.

"Not likely," Douglas said frankly. "Let's just say, if you don't win this one, getting a beating would be the least of your worries."

The threat was clear. Charlie didn't need to see the glint of excitement in Kenneth's eyes to know it would be him who would make sure no one ever found his body.

Satisfied that the message was received, Douglas nodded at Kenneth to help Charlie wrap his hands. Charlie couldn't be sure, but he had a feeling the white powder Kenneth dipped the bandages in might've been plaster.

Charlie wasn't sure how he felt about cheating... on the other hand, the bruise on his thigh was a stark reminder that the other side didn't fight fair either. Boots with steel tips shouldn't have been allowed in a ring either. Now he wondered if he would have to face someone similarly equipped. If so... he better try to keep his head intact.

Twenty minutes later, Charlie had his answer.

He and his opponent, a burly looking guy who was introduced as Igor the Mighty, had been circling each other for a while now. The crowd around was shouting for blood and Charlie caught sight of Kenneth. He had his teeth bared and his hand made a slashing movement.

Charlie's concentration wavered and his opponent decided to strike.

The punch almost did him in. Charlie felt the hard fist connect with his left temple, splitting skin. His brain seemed to explode and he fell to his knees. Something red was dripping down his eye, onto the floor.

The crowd cheered and booed.

Somewhere in the background Douglas gave a warning shout, urging Charlie to get the fuck up.

The referee knelt next to him and started counting.

Charlie shook his head.

The room spun, but he couldn't stay down.

There was no sign of Johnson or any kind of backup. Charlie didn't want to end up as worm food.

Cursing and fighting off the nausea and headache, Charlie made it up to his feet. For a fleeting second he wondered why the other guy haven't finished him off when he had a chance, but the man just looked bored. As if kicking him while down was below him.

The referee counted only to three and Charlie was already up. He was swaying a bit, but that might have actually been to his advantage.

Igor didn't wait for the referee to clear the spot. He moved past him, rushing at Charlie and pinning him against the ropes. Charlie grunted and wondered if puking on his opponent would count as a win. He doubted it.

The ropes were pressing hard against his back, and Igor used the closeness to give him a few punches in the stomach.

They hurt, but... after receiving the first hit, Charlie was sure the man was pulling his punches now.

After one of those, the man leaned in and hissed into Charlie's ear.

"Start fighting or we both fucking dead!"

Charlie almost thought he was just imagining it. But no. The man's eyes were giving him a warning.

The thought of the other guy being scared sent a rush of adrenaline pumping through his blood. He had to stop covering and do something.

The punches aiming at his midriff actually left the other guy vulnerable. There was no way for him to protect his head.

Charlie went with one of the punches, letting it push him against the rope. As the rope pushed back, he used the momentum. Head low, Charlie slammed the top of his skull into Igor's chin. He heard the man's teeth click, felt the throbbing of his own head escalate.

It was a dirty move, but it worked.

The man stumbled back, dazed. This time, Charlie didn't hesitate. He delivered two more quick punches to the head. He could feel the skin of his knuckles crack, but he kept on. Pushing his opponent to the corner.

For a moment, Charlie didn't know what he was doing. His mind went hazy and all he could focus on was the target in front of him.

It must've been a lucky punch, or the man had just decided they put up enough of a show. Charlie felt a stab of pain run up his fist as it connected one last time. The man staggered, his eyes rolling upwards as his whole body slumped to the ground.

Charlie stood there, trying to blink away the fog in front of his eyes. The referee was kneeling on the ground, counting. The crowd was shouting. All Charlie saw was the bloodied face below.

The referee counted to ten.

Igor didn't move, though he was at least breathing.

Charlie turned to the side, fell to his knees and promptly brought up his lunch.

He didn't know if he should blame the way his head was spinning or the feeling of disgust over what he had done.

Kenneth didn't seem to care. As soon as it was clear Charlie had won, Kenneth was by his side, half dragging him out of the ring. Douglas and Richard were somewhere in the crowd, possibly taking care of business. Charlie tried to look back towards the ring to see if his opponent was alright or not, but Kenneth had a steely hold of him, dragging and showing him out of the gym.

Charlie noticed the car and Ben behind the wheel. The fresh air hit him in the face and his brain seemed to restart a bit.

The fight was over. He did what he was supposed to do. Now... now he needed to think like a cop.

He let himself be pushed onto the back seat, swaying more than needed. His head was spinning, but he was acutely aware that he couldn't let himself black out.

"Man, you look like crap," Ben said with a whistle when he looked at him. Charlie only blinked. He saw Kenneth reaching for the blasted burlap sack. There was no way in hell though he was riding with that on his head.

Charlie shook his head, throwing the sack onto the seat next to him.

"No way," he grumbled, leaning his head against the window. The cold glass felt like balm against his skin.

"Put that on or I will tape it to your head till next week," Kenneth snapped, grabbing the sack and slamming it against Charlie's chest. Charlie winced but didn't move.

"And for fuck's sake, get away from the window. You're bleeding all over it!"

Charlie turned his head, only now noticing the red smear on the glass where his face was a moment ago. He couldn't care less really.

"You have three seconds!" Kenneth growled, reaching into the compartment for what Charlie assumed was duct tape.

Well, that wouldn't do him any good now.

"One. Two-" Before Kenneth reached three, Charlie threw him a glare. Or at least he tried. His eyes were having trouble focusing. He took the sack and pulled it over his head.

As long as his hands were free... he could work with that.

Ben started the engine and the car pulled out of the alley.

It took only a minute, maybe two.

The rocking motion of the car, combined with the dizziness he felt and the smell of blood permeating the inside of the sack, Charlie didn't even have to pretend to be sick.

He did wonder what was there to bring up anymore as he pulled the sack off and used it as a bucket instead.

"What the fuck?" Kenneth shouted.

"Uh, that's gross! Don't let it splash in my car!" Ben exclaimed, slowing down the car as Charlie heaved. He let out a groan, leaning forward in the seat. His head was throbbing in beat with his heart and being sick wasn't helping.

"Should I stop?" Ben asked, sounding unsure.

"No, just keep driving. I want to get this idiot to the house as soon as possible then get back to town and get my share before Rick takes off with it and drinks it all away."

Charlie wasn't paying that much attention to what was said, but he still caught the tone of annoyance in Kenneth's voice. Obviously not everything was working great in the partnership. Before he could rejoice about it though, Kenneth turned his attention back to him.

"Oh for God's sake, put that thing back on your head!"

Charlie barely raised his head to give Kenneth a look of utter disbelief. Then he gave a pitiful groan and buried his face back in the sack.

Kenneth looked away in disgust, rolling down the window on his side.

"Leave him be. It's not like he poses any danger to us," Ben muttered. "And I don't want to clean puke from my seats."

"Yeah, you're right. Not like he will be chatting with anyone anytime soon," Kenneth replied with a smirk.

Charlie swallowed a retort. He would've liked nothing better than to take the sack and throw the whole thing along with its nasty content over Kenneth's head, then punch him a few times for good measure.

A man could dream.

Instead he leaned back on his seat, his face pressed against the cold window. The air coming from Kenneth's window was refreshing.

Charlie closed his eyes to slits and pretended to be asleep. He was aware of the occasional scrutiny from both Kenneth and Ben in the rear-view mirror, but he also knew they could hardly see if his eyes were slightly open in the darkness of the car. So happened that Charlie got a chance to see where they were going. Even if he didn't know the town, he caught an occasional point that could help with their location. A name of a motel, a gas pump. A road sign indicating the closest highway as they left the town.

Now all he needed was to remember everything. Find a phone and get hold of Johnson.

All of that while feeling as if his brain wanted to crawl out of his skull.

Charlie wished more than ever to just crawl into his bed at Blake's house and not to emerge until next month.

As they arrived at the house, Charlie closed his eyes. When Kenneth harshly opened the door he was leaning against he almost plummeted down. He managed to right himself, the same couldn't be said about the sack. It rolled down from his lap and onto the ground next to the car. Mid air it managed to splash some of its content onto Kenneth's pants and shoes.

"Fucking hell!" Kenneth jumped back and despite knowing it would only get him harsher treatment, Charlie felt a tinge of satisfaction.

He was still trying to hide a loopy grin when Kenneth grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him out of the car. He did end up on the ground, crying out in pain as his head was jostled.

"Do you think it's funny Chuckles? Why don't you laugh about this!" Kenneth offered a swift kick to Charlie's side, which caused him to roll a few feet away. The world turned just a bit darker and Charlie gasped for breath. He saw the towering figure of Kenneth coming closer, ready for another hit. Charlie curled up instinctively.

"Hey, cut it out!" Ben shouted, pulling Kenneth back then leaning down next to Charlie. "Are you crazy? You want to kill him before the last fight?!"

Kenneth spat on the ground next to Charlie's head.

"As if I care!"

"Well, maybe you should. I sure as hell won't be the one trying to explain Doug his plans are toast."

Kenneth grumbled something under his breath. Ben obviously had enough.

"Here!" he tossed him the car keys. "Go and cool off. I'll get him inside myself. Safer that way."

Kenneth took the keys but stood in place, suddenly uncertain.

"I can handle myself," Ben grumbled, annoyed. Kenneth gave Charlie a glowering look, then with a nod turned on his heels and got back inside the car.

Charlie let out a relieved breath. Ben he could handle. Ben was alright.

Kenneth was sitting behind the wheel and watching them.

"Alright, let's get you inside, or he will never leave," Ben muttered and helped Charlie back to his feet. Once standing, Charlie had to lean against Ben's shoulder whether he liked or not. Everything was spinning. There went his plan on trying to sneak out. At the moment he wasn't sure if he could remember Blake's number, not to mention Johnson's.

Why did he even want to call? Blake was too far away to help. Though it would sure be nice if he could pop up and give him something for the pain.

Charlie found his thoughts were all over the place. So much so he didn't really notice Ben putting his arm around his back until he felt the sore hand land on the man's shoulder. Drunkenly they walked inside the house. Only once the front door had closed behind them did Charlie hear the roar of the engine and the car leaving.

The hallway was dark. Charlie's eyes were twitching around, looking for a phone. Or a bathroom. At this point he wasn't sure what had bigger priority. Maybe a bed would be good, yes. Lying down sounded like a plan.

"Hey man, you good?" Ben asked, then grunted as Charlie decided to lean the other way, making them both unbalanced.

"My head hurts," Charlie noted idly. "Can we call the Doc?" he asked, blinking.

Ben paused, as if thinking.

"Let's get you down to your room, then we will see," he said after a moment of deliberation. Charlie just nodded, the thought that maybe Blake would come filling him with relief.

The walk down the stairs seemed to be the most dangerous part of the night. Both Charlie and Ben were happy when they reached the landing intact. Well, Ben was happy. Charlie swayed on his feet, then his head turned towards the bathroom door. Without a word he pushed off Ben and headed there.

It took his stomach several minutes to calm down, though Charlie didn't understand what it was even complaining about. Not like there was anything to bring up anymore.

It was when he tried to splash some water on his face that he realized his hands were still wrapped in what felt like a cast by now. A rather dirty cast. Grimacing, he let the water soak into the material, hoping it would be easier to get off. The dripping of the blood into the sink was a bit more disconcerting.

"Damn..."

The look into the mirror didn't make matters better. Charlie felt woozy just from the sight. Admittedly, the wound on his head most likely wasn't as bad as it looked. But the dried up crusted blood covering half his face wasn't a nice picture.

"You alive in there?" Ben called out and Charlie was actually surprised the man didn't just open the door.

"Yeah," he said, then cleared his throat. He splashed more water on his face, ignoring the sting. The bathroom swirled and Charlie decided that everything could wait. Only thing that mattered right now was lying down.

The water most likely didn't help if the look on Ben's face was anything to go by. He grimaced.

"You look like you went through the ringer. Man, wish I had seen that fight."

Charlie passed the comment by and headed for his room. He noted Caleb peering out of his room, but as soon as their eyes met, the boy slipped back inside and closed the door.

Seeing the bed drove all the other thoughts out of his head. Charlie went straight for it.

"Hey, not so fast," Ben's hand on his arm stopped him. "I don't want to be cleaning blood off the mattress," he said and Charlie let out a groan as Ben pushed him towards the chair instead.

"What, are you a nurse now?" he grumbled, irritated. Ben chuckled.

"Hardly. I just don't want to deal with the mess later on. Okay, let's get these off your hands." he pointed to the soaked through bandages. Charlie just raised an eyebrow, which in hindsight wasn't too smart. He felt the wound on his split eyebrow start oozing again, messing up his vision.

"Yeah, that's just nasty man," Ben commented, bringing in a pair of big scissors, a couple of clean bandages and a bowl of water. He made quick work with cutting through the wrapping and it was obvious he had some experience.

"You do this often?" Charlie asked, cringing as he saw the mess of his knuckles. Ben shrugged, took one of Charlie's hands and dipped it in the water. Charlie hissed, realizing it wasn't just water but also some disinfectant.

"Got into plenty of fights as a kid," Ben muttered while he towelled the hand and quickly wrapped it in a fresh bandage. He didn't mess around, his movements quick and sure.

"Doc can take a look at it, but I don't think it's broken. You should be fine to use those for the next fight."

Charlie gritted his teeth. He didn't want to be in the next fight. Hell, he didn't want to be here either.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, while Ben pressed a gauze pad against his split eyebrow and pressed down. Charlie hissed.

"I told you. Don't want to have to clean that mattress."

Charlie wasn't sure if Ben was playing stupid on purpose or if he truly didn't understand the question. Or maybe Charlie didn't ask it clear enough. It was possible. He had a feeling that half the things coming out of his mouth weren't making sense.

"Why you helping them? Kenneth... the others."

Ben paused in his ministrations. His eyes turned cold.

"I owe him. I will always owe him."

Charlie blinked.

What the hell did that mean?

He wanted to ask more, but... the next question got stuck somewhere on the back of his tongue. What was it? What did he want to know?

Charlie tried to shake off the fog that enveloped his brain, only to be scolded by Ben.

"Stop moving, I need to wrap this," he grumbled. Charlie went still. He might've been confused, but the irritated tone was clear.

"Here. You can clean the rest of it up yourself," Ben said, pushing a wet towel into Charlie's hands. Charlie just looked at it, not really sure what to do next. What was he supposed to clean?

"Can I lie down?" he asked, his words coming out slurred.

Ben's face softened.

"Damn it," he said, taking the towel out of his hands and swiping harshly at his face a few times.

"Here. Got to be enough."

Charlie cringed from the touch but it was over faster than his brain could work out he might protest.

"Bed's over there," Ben said, frustrated.

Charlie didn't ask for anything else. He stood up. Swayed. Took three steps, then landed on the mattress, face half buried in the pillow. For all he cared the whole world could go to hell.

If only it was that easy.

Someone was shaking his shoulder.

Charlie groaned, trying to ignore the intrusion. A hand grabbed his arm and unceremoniously pulled it off his face, letting the light hit him in the face.

"-the hell?" he grumbled, squinting upwards.

"He's alive. I don't know why you made such a fuss!"

Kenneth's voice rung out somewhere from the door.

Charlie swallowed down the sudden nausea. He wasn't going to puke, not again. His throat still burned from the last bout.

"Well, I couldn't wake him up. The Doc still needs to stitch him up. No one will bet on him if he looks like this." That was Ben. But his voice was also coming from a distance. Charlie frowned. Who the hell was sitting on the bed next to him, trying to pry his eyes open?

"Ugh!" Charlie croaked out as the person was successful and shone a light into his eyes.

"Stop twitching, or I'll tie you down," came the cold voice. As Charlie blinked away the colourful spots dancing in his vision, he could finally make out an unfamiliar face. It was a man in mid forties, dark, almost black hair. Clean shaven with a stern face.

Charlie didn't have a clue who the hell this was or what was going on. But the notion of being tied down made his blood go cold. He went still, for a moment just trying to make head and heels of his situation.

The man seemed satisfied with that. He gave a nod, then told him to sit up.

Charlie did, although he had to take a moment to still himself. He felt as if he was on a ship. If he looked at one set point, it held still, but everything around just... floated. He wished he could close his eyes and go back to sleep.

Obviously that wasn't in the plans.

The stranger grabbed his chin, moving his head this and that way.

"Hold still," was the only command he got.

"Who're you?" Charlie managed to ask, cringing when fingers pressed against his skull here and there looking for bumps. None of this was helping his headache, or even the nausea. Charlie tried to extricate his head from the grip, but all he got for his effort was a rougher treatment.

The man kept ignoring him and Kenneth scoffed in the background.

"I wouldn't bother with him, Doc."

'Doc?'

Charlie had trouble believing the man in front of him was a physician. There was no warmth, no compassion in his eyes. He reminded Charlie more of a butcher, looking at a piece of meat. A rotten one at that.

"You're bringing in worse and worse material," the 'doctor' scoffed, while he cut the bandage off of Charlie's head. Charlie gritted his teeth, glaring. The man didn't seem to care. One hand grabbed Charlie's chin, the other was checking the wound on his head.

Charlie hissed and tried to pull back as blunt fingers pinched the raw edges.

"Hold still!" the doctor hissed.

"Not a damn dog!" Charlie bit back angrily.

"No. A dog would listen at least," came the reply. Charlie entertained the thought of lashing out but discarded the notion. When the man let go off his face, the sudden freedom left Charlie swaying and blinking. He had to hold onto the edge of the mattress to stay upright. Damn.

"He's all wonky. Will he be able to go into the ring like this?" Ben asked, sounding worried. Probably the only one of the three in the room.

"When's the next fight?"

"In a week," Kenneth said gruffly.

The doctor shrugged.

"He's just concussed. Let him sleep it all off and if he doesn't die of a brain bleed, he should be fine. It's the last fight anyway."

Charlie wasn't sure he heard right. How could anyone talk so callously about another person? Right in front of them?

Kenneth seemed to be satisfied with the answer though.

"Good. So patch him up and let's go. I'd hate to lose any more time in here."

The doctor nodded.

"Ben, hand me my bag and come here. I might need you to hold him down."

Charlie's eyes widened. What the hell did he mean by that?

He learned soon enough. The doctor pulled out some disinfectant then a sewing kit. The thing Charlie didn't see anywhere though were any painkillers or numbing agent. The man was really about to sew his head close without even a glass of whiskey?

Ben must've came to the same conclusion. He gave Charlie a look of apology as he put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. As if saying 'You better hold still'.

Charlie did. At least while the man disinfected the wound. He cringed through it, but didn't make a sound.

Holding back a hiss of pain was much harder when he felt the curved needle pierce the skin, the line tugging at the wound painfully. Ben's hand gripped his shoulder tighter.

Charlie closed his eyes.

Not because it helped with the pain. He just couldn't bear the look of satisfaction plainly visible on the doctor's face every time Charlie cringed or grimaced.

The man was a sadistic bastard.

When he was finished, Charlie felt sweat running down his back.

"Anything else the trouble?" the man asked with a smirk on his face.

Charlie quickly shook his head.

He wouldn't admit to anything in front of this guy, even if it meant bleeding out. He knew he might've had some bruised ribs. His stomach and sides had to be playing in all colours of the rainbow and he was pretty sure there was a cracked bone in his left hand. He most definitely didn't need the man poking at it though.

"Well then, I'll take you up on the offer for a drink, Kenneth," the man said, packing up his bag. Without another look at Charlie, he headed for the door, pausing by Ben.

"Wake him up a few times. If he starts spouting nonsense or keeps puking for the next day, give me a call. Otherwise, I'll stop by the day of the fight, as usual."

Ben gave a nod and a sigh. Charlie had a feeling he already regretted calling the man. He couldn't blame him for that.

Charlie waited until everyone left the room. Then he let out a sigh and slunk back into the bed. His head was throbbing something fierce but he didn't dare ask for a painkiller. He was pretty sure the men would've just laughed him off.

It was better to be left alone. Now only if someone had the sense to turn off the damn light so he could try to get back to sleep and forget this happened.

Charlie was just making up the nerve to try and get vertical again, when the door opened. He went still, praying it wasn't the 'doctor' coming to torture him a bit more.

It was only Ben.

"Here. Some water and aspirin. Not sure it will help, but..." Ben shrugged.

Charlie gave a noncommittal grunt. Ben must've taken it as dismissal.

"Ben?" Charlie called out, cringing at the loudness of his own voice. Ben turned around.

"Yeah?"

"Don't... don't call that guy again. Even if I'm dying."

Ben chuckled.

"What, you didn't enjoy his bedside manners?"

Charlie didn't have enough energy to explain Ben just how much he hated it. So he settled for curling his hand into a fist and giving Ben the finger.

He heard the answering chuckle and felt his heartbeat start to settle down.

"Lights off?" he muttered.

"Sure." Ben turned off the lights and the room fell into the cover of darkness. Charlie let out a breath of relief. Now only if he could get the doc's words out of his mind.

Next week. He had seven days to get himself together and call Johnson. Should be a piece of cake.

If the room ever stopped spinning and he managed to find a phone.