A/N: Thank you to all who read and reviewed so far! We have reached the middle of the story, the part that focuses more on fixing Charlie up. While I tried to keep this as medically accurate as possible, I am no expert so please, take it all with a grain of salt:) I'd also like to warn for some possible blood and medical procedures and such in the following chapters. Hope you don't mind. After all, this is a whump fic :D
For a moment, Blake thought he arrived too early. Or maybe too late. He saw a bus with destination Sydney pulling out of the station just as he parked the car near the building. He exited the car and headed towards where the bus had pulled out of. There were several people milling around or just waiting. Most of them had some luggage.
Blake carefully scanned the faces, looking for the familiar one. His heart sank a bit when he couldn't spot him.
Did he miss Charlie? Or was that the wrong bus?
Blake was about to head inside the building and ask about arrivals. Maybe Charlie was waiting there.
He almost missed him.
At first sight Blake thought it was some hoodlum. The clothes and the hoodie were underlining the overall hunched form and a limp. All Blake could see was the back of the man and he watched the unsteady gait more out of morbid curiosity. Was the man injured? Drugged?
They seemed to be heading the same way and as such, Blake had a good view. In a moment he would catch up and pass the man by. He really hoped it was just some poor drunk bastard in need of sleeping off a long night of a binge and not someone in need of help. Right now Blake's priority was one missing sergeant. He couldn't be losing time with strangers...
The man in front of him pulled his hand out of his pocket, letting it swing by his side.
Blake followed the motion absent-mindedly. Until the fingers twitched in that damningly familiar pattern.
Blake froze.
Could it be?
The hunched form was deceptive, but now that he looked Blake thought the height was mostly right. And if one would forget the limp, the gait was familiar.
Blake quickened his steps, determined to see who the man was. Because it surely couldn't be someone who he had seen only few weeks back, healthy and hale.
In hindsight, Blake knew he should have called out. Anyone would be startled by a sudden presence tailing them in silence. Thing was, Blake didn't really believe it could've been Charlie.
And when the man spun around, eyes wide and woozy, for a second Blake was sure he made a mistake.
This man had a stubble that did nothing to cover the bruises and scrapes underneath. A split lip, a bloodshot eye and a crudely stitched up cut on the eyebrow...
But then there was the familiar blue colour staring at him with momentary panic. He saw those eyes go unfocused, the body swaying.
Blake's hand tightened its hold on the shoulder, his other arm grabbing at the jacket.
„Bloody hell, Charlie!" Blake grunted and was thankful for the fact they were only few meters from a bench.
At first, Charlie's body stiffened at Blake's touch and he sensed that it was in a fight or flight mode.
„It's me, Charlie. Lucien," he said soothingly and let out a sigh of relief when Charlie's eyes focused on his face. It was as if someone had cut the cords. Charlie's knees seemed to go weak and Blake grunted as he felt more weight fall into his arms.
„Doc," Charlie said, his right hand reaching up to grasp Blake's arm, the one that was propping him up by the jacket. As if he wanted to make sure Blake wasn't just some hallucination, that he was real. The relief in that one word made Blake's heart clench. What the hell had happened to his young friend?
„Come on, let's sit down," Blake said and led Charlie towards the bench. They both plopped down on it heavily.
For a minute they sat there in silence. Charlie seemed to be trying to calm down and get a hold of himself, while Blake was trying to figure out how he got into the state he was currently in. Finally, the dizzy spell seemed to abate and Charlie raised his head, looking at Blake.
„Will I have to arrest you for breaking all speed limits?" Charlie asked, his face cracking up in a smile.
Blake wanted to smack him on the head.
„I'm pretty sure we are out of your jurisdiction," Blake answered curtly. „What on earth happened to you, Charlie?"
The smile slipped from Charlie's face and Blake almost regretted his tone. That was until Charlie replied with his usual „I'm fine, Doc."
Blake's eyes narrowed.
„I am pretty sure I've autopsied corpses that looked healthier than you," he said and Charlie cringed.
„I think I just need a shave and a shower," he tried to argue.
Blake reached up, gently grasping Charlie's chin and turning his face towards him, inspecting.
„I can tell some of the bruises are at least a week old. Some are fresh. Your hand is in a cast, you are limping and about to crash. So tell me again that all you need is a shower, and I swear I will drive you home and leave you to the mercy of Matthew and Jean."
Charlie cringed.
„You wouldn't do that," he muttered.
Blake sighed and his hand moved to Charlie's shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze.
„I'm sorry, Doc," Charlie said and the look on his face made Blake regret his words almost instantly. „These last few weeks were hell. It's a long story, and I just... I need to get home."
Blake nodded. He could sympathize with that. More than anything, he wanted to be off the street and the curious looks of passersby's.
„Alright. Let's get you in the car now and you can tell me everything on the road. It'll be a long ride anyway."
Charlie looked like he wanted to protest, but then he just gave a nod. Obviously the lad wasn't as delirious as to think that Blake wouldn't ask any questions.
„Good boy. Now... can you make it to the car? Or do I need to pull up here?"
„Where is it?" Charlie asked, looking around with a frown.
„Just on the other side of the building. Not that far."
„Oh. Alright. I can make it."
Blake wasn't sure if Charlie really believed that, but that didn't matter.
„I'll help. Come on, lean on me."
With some reluctance and grunting, they both got up. Blake could tell almost instantly there was something wrong with Charlie's side as he winced at the slightest pressure.
„Did you hurt your ribs?" Blake asked as they were making a slow and slightly drunken looking way towards the car.
Charlie grimaced, obviously trying to keep back a grunt of pain.
„Bruised," he said but didn't elaborate. He even seemed to straighten up a bit, as if trying to prove he was indeed alright. Blake decided to leave the questions for the car.
Finally they made it there. Charlie shot the Holden a look of fondness and without hesitation slipped onto the passenger seat. Blake watched as he leaned back carefully, then let out a sigh of relief, more tension leaving his shoulders.
Blake settled on the driver seat but didn't start the car right away, which earned him a curious look from Charlie.
„Doc?"
„I am just thinking if it wouldn't be better to take you to a hotel to get a night's rest, before the drive."
Charlie shook his head.
„No. The less trail we leave behind, the better," he said wearily.
„What trail? Who is after you?" Blake asked with a frown. Charlie grimaced.
„Can we just... drive? I'll... tell you in a bit."
Blake clenched his teeth. He wanted answers right now, but recognized that if there was indeed someone after Charlie, getting out of town might be prudent. Not to mention, maybe on the road Charlie would feel more relaxed and tell him what was going on.
„Alright. There's a thermos with tea and some cookies from Jean if you're hungry," Blake said nodding towards the back seat.
„I'm good, Doc. Thanks. I had some peanuts on the way."
Blake raised an eyebrow, curious about the slightly amused tone.
They drove for a few minutes, navigating the streets of Wagga Wagga. Charlie was shooting looks into the rear-view mirror, making sure no one was trailing them, while Blake was shooting looks at Charlie, silently observing.
The man looked like he had been in a rather violent pub brawl. The only problem with that theory was the different ages of the bruises.
„You look like you got into several different fights," Blake couldn't help but state.
Charlie startled, looking at him a bit sheepishly.
„That's... accurate."
Blake frowned.
„Why didn't you call for help sooner? You know me or Matthew would have picked you up anywhere."
Charlie gave a nod. He knew that.
„There was nothing you could've done. The fights were planned."
Blake almost stepped on the breaks.
„What?" he looked at Charlie with disbelief. „You're not a fighter, Charlie."
„I know that, thanks," Charlie said and was it a pout on his face? Blake wondered if he didn't just offend his friend.
„I didn't mean you can't hold yourself in a fight. I never knew you to start one though."
Charlie let out a sigh and grimaced slightly. Blake's eyes narrowed. He decided that whether Charlie liked it or not, he would stop at the nearest rest and check him out. He was already keeping the car speed under the limit, to make the drive as comfortable as possible. Even if it meant arriving home an hour later than it took him to get there.
„Believe me Doc, I wasn't too keen on the idea either," Charlie answered to his comment.
„Then what happened? Was this part of your special training?"
Now it was Charlie's turn to look confused.
„What training?" he asked and Blake told him about the call from Sydney. Charlie's face darkened a bit but he nodded.
„That must've been O'Leary," he muttered. „I thought he would tell Boss a bit more. I thought he would at least make a call after what happened last night."
„Last night? Charlie, you were gone for over two weeks without a word. What in bloody hell were you doing?" Blake couldn't keep the worry and exasperation out of his voice any longer. Charlie's face turned towards the window in contemplation, though Blake could see him biting at his lower lip nervously.
"Charlie," Blake said, his tone gentle and trying to convey that he was only worried. It seemed to work. Charlie sighed and while he kept his eyes trained on the road ahead, he started recounting his last two weeks.
Blake listened in silence, only occasionally interrupting with a question. He was trying to keep his voice calm, even though his grip on the wheel got tighter by minute. Blake was sure Charlie was skimming over the events, leaving out facts in lieu of downplaying the danger he truly found himself in.
Blake didn't press him over that. He knew that once they arrived home, Lawson would require a much more detailed report and Charlie won't be able to pretend the whole case was just a semi-uncomfortable trip resulting in a few bruises. Not like he was trying to do now.
"So... let me get this straight," Blake spoke when Charlie was done telling him about the second fight. "You had... no backup at all?"
Charlie blinked.
"I did. Johnson."
"Who didn't know where the hell you were... or even if you were alive?" Blake said through gritted teeth.
Charlie averted his eyes, giving a slight shrug.
"Bloody hell, Charlie!" Blake shook his head, exasperated. "And when you finally got to a phone, instead of calling us or getting the hell out of there, you decided to stay!"
Blake wasn't sure what he was more angry about. The fact some idiot in Sydney sent Charlie out to what could've amounted to a suicide mission or the fact Charlie had been effectively held hostage for two weeks while he and Lawson were fiddling their thumbs and thinking all was well with the world. And all the backup Charlie was offered was some young cop that most likely didn't have a clue how to truly handle the situation.
"I couldn't just leave, Doc," Charlie said wearily and it was that tone that forced Blake to take a few calming breaths. He was going off at the wrong person... or maybe at a wrong time. If he kept this up, Charlie would clam up and they would have to pry every little detail from him by force. Blake didn't want that.
"I understand that," Blake admitted. Hell, he most likely would've acted the same as Charlie, especially if there was an innocent kid involved. Right now, however, his only concern was the man on the passenger seat. "I would've still preferred you stayed unharmed."
Charlie's lips quirked.
"I would've preferred that too," he said, looking at Blake with amusement.
Blake let out a sigh and nodded for Charlie to continue. He had a feeling whatever came next was going to make him only more horrified, at least if the look of discomfort on Charlie's face was anything to go by.
Or maybe it wasn't the topic of their conversation at all.
Blake had noticed that Charlie had unzipped his jacket a while ago, but didn't seem inclined to take it off. Instead he hid his right hand under the jacket. Blake was sure he was cradling his ribs, trying to keep them protected from the car's movement. He didn't plan on commenting, deciding to first hear out Charlie's whole story. That didn't last long however.
Charlie had been licking at his lips more often so Blake had offered him the thermos with the tea. Charlie had to relinquish his hold on the ribs to grab the thermos. He was taking careful sips, quite clearly trying not to inhale it all in one swallow, when Blake caught sight of red on his fingers.
At first glance, Blake thought it was just the rawness of scraped up knuckles. But as Charlie stilled a bit, Blake noticed that the red was on his fingertips. He was pretty sure it wasn't there before. His eyes narrowed.
Without commenting, Blake let Charlie finish drinking. He scanned the road ahead, looking for a spot to park. They were out of Wagga Wagga already. While Blake would have preferred a rest stop, he was quite done waiting.
Charlie put down the thermos, pausing for a second. Blake watched from the corner of his eye as Charlie swiftly hid his hand inside his jacket, clearing his throat. Blake wanted to take pity on him, he did. But then he realized that Charlie had no intention at all to cue him in on the problem and that just made his irritation grow.
So he let Charlie tell him a surely censored version of the third and final fight.
"Johnson and the backup finally arrived," Charlie was saying just as Blake spotted the right place. "They stopped the fight... caught most of the people involved."
Blake nodded, slowed the car and pulled to the side of the road. It was as good place as any. There was a huge gum tree providing a bit of cover from the road, not that there was much traffic. Blake could count on one hand the number of cars they encountered once leaving Wagga Wagga.
The sudden stop seemed to surprise Charlie. He was looking at Blake with confusion, his eyes looking back at the road, as if expecting to see company.
"Doc? What's going on?"
Blake turned the engine off, giving Charlie a hard stare.
Charlie squirmed in the seat.
"I'd like to know that too. Is there anything you want to tell me, Charlie?"
Blake was still giving him a chance to come clean himself.
Charlie's eyes seemed suddenly incapable of holding his look.
"I just did," Charlie hedged. "Doc? We should really-"
Blake was about fed up. He reached out and tugged at Charlie's arm, the one hidden under the jacket. Charlie hissed, but didn't really fight back. His hand slid out and as Blake wrapped his hand around the slightly shaking wrist, they both saw fresh spots of blood coating the pale fingertips.
"Care to explain this?'
Charlie thought he might've gotten away with it. But maybe he just forgot how observant Blake could be. He noticed the blood as he was putting down the thermos and shot a look at Blake but the man was staring ahead at the road. Charlie let out a sigh of relief. He knew he would have to come clean sooner or later, but seeing how exasperated Blake was getting by his description of events, Charlie thought later was better. Give him some time to calm down.
Unfortunately, the man seemed to have other plans. The car came to a halt and Charlie was a bit startled by the sudden silence. His eyes automatically shot towards the road. Did the doc see something? Was someone following them? But then, stopping would hardly make any sense.
He shot a confused look at Blake.
"Doc? What's going on?"
Charlie was a bit taken aback by the hard look he received in reply.
"I'd like to know that too. Is there anything you want to tell me, Charlie?"
Charlie most definitely didn't. Also, what the hell was the man's problem? It wasn't like Charlie was holding back. He was spilling his gut all the way from Wagga Wagga.
"I just did," Charlie said, feeling a bit annoyed. Really... all he wished was to get home as soon as possible. Did the man have to make it so difficult? "Doc? We should really-"
He was too startled to react when Blake suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled at it. Charlie hissed, the movement jarring several painful spots. Blake didn't seem to care though, too focused on his goal. Charlie didn't have the strength or the will to fight him off anyway, so with an air of defeat he allowed the man to grasp his wrist, showing bloodied fingers.
"Care to explain this?"
"Forgot to wash my hands?" Charlie answered flippantly. Really, what answer did Blake expect?
Basing on the annoyed frown on his face, this wasn't it.
Charlie sighed.
"It's fine, Doc. I think I just torn some stitches on the bus drive."
"Stitches. For what?"
"Uh..." Now, Charlie would have definitely preferred to be closer to home before revealing that he was stabbed. Spending the next five or so hours in the car with Blake while getting a lecture about stab wounds wasn't his idea of a fun ride. "It's just a scratch," he tried. After all... Johnson said it didn't hit any organs. Or something to that effect. Charlie was a bit hazy on the details.
Blake's eyes narrowed more.
"A scratch. That required stitches."
Charlie nodded, but he wasn't looking at Blake. Instead, he was perusing his reddened fingers. He wished he could wash his hands. The sight of blood and the stickiness coating his fingertips was making him feel kind of dizzy.
"Charlie?" Blake asked and Charlie felt the man's hand move around his wrist. Now it wasn't gripping it with force, but rather gently. Fingers pushed just below the thumb.
Charlie tried to tug his hand away but the grip tightened. He groaned, realizing there was no escaping the man's clutches now. Dejectedly, Charlie leaned his head back against the seat, finding sudden interest in the roof of the car. Did it always have that wavy pattern?
"Your pulse is a bit fast..." Blake's palm brushed over Charlie's face and neck. "And you're warm."
"I've a jacket on," Charlie muttered in explanation.
"And why is that?"
"Because it's cold in here?"
It was hardly his fault the car's heating was broken.
"It most definitely is not," Blake argued, but it was clear his thoughts were somewhere else. He finally let go of Charlie's hand, instead giving him a frustratingly knowing look. Charlie felt like a bug under the microscope... or a bee trapped inside a car. His instinct was to zip up the jacket more and burrow himself in the seat, preferably until they reached Ballarat. But that would require the car moving... which it wasn't.
"Charlie," Blake said again, though this time the tone was filled only with concern. The reproach was clearly pushed into the background for the sake of the moment, which Charlie appreciated.
"Can you just drive, Doc?" Charlie asked, hoping he didn't sound like a whiny kid. But he was really tired of everything and would have appreciated a moment of... rest.
"Will you let me fix the problem first though?"
Charlie frowned, a bit confused. He didn't have a problem. Then he caught Blake's nod towards his right hand, which was now curled into a fist to hide the evidence and the occasional trembling.
"Oh," Charlie understood then. And tried, with his fuzzy brain to decide whether it would be better to just let Blake do his thing. Maybe he could stop the bleeding and give him something for the pain that way. Because the pain meds Charlie got at the hospital had most definitely worn off if all the aches and discomfort were anything to go by.
"Alright," he finally relented.
"Good boy," Blake said with a sudden smile and Charlie thought grumpily the man shouldn't look so happy about it. „Let me see that scratch of yours."
Charlie reluctantly unzipped the rest of his jacket. He cringed at seeing the dark spot that formed on the borrowed sweatshirt. He carefully pulled up the hem, knowing well what he would find. He wasn't disappointed.
Next to him Blake softly cursed. Charlie let the sweatshirt fall back down.
„It's no-„ Charlie didn't finish. He could feel Blake's warning glare burning a hole into his flesh, so he shut up. Without a word, Blake stepped out of the car. Charlie thought he might've gone for a breather. Did he really piss him off that much? Charlie's brow furrowed. An image of Blake leaving him on the side of the road and driving off popped into his mind. He shook it off. That was stupid. What the hell was he even thinking?
Blake would never do something like that.
Of course he wouldn't.
Even as Charlie was trying to shake off the strange thoughts, the door on his side had opened. Charlie flinched when he saw Blake reaching towards him. Blake paused.
„May I?" he asked, nodding towards Charlie's side.
Charlie gulped, feeling stupid for his reaction. He didn't understand why he was so twitchy. His body just felt on edge and he had trouble thinking straight. Somewhere in the back of his mind was the image of Kendrick, towering over him threateningly with the sewing needle.
„Sorry," he muttered in embarrassment while Blake still waited for his assent. „Yeah, go ahead." To show his willingness to cooperate and not to make a bigger fool of himself, Charlie moved his left arm out of the way, even tried to pull the shirt back up. His fingers were shaking though, so when Blake took over, he let him.
The bandage was soaked through with blood. True, it most likely wasn't bleeding as much as when he was stabbed, but it had bled enough to make Charlie worried. If he lost too much blood he was sure Blake would drop him off at the nearest hospital, which would make this whole trip just another unnecessary trial of pain.
Blake for his part was silent, though Charlie could see the frown on his face deepening. When he peeled off the bandage, he stilled.
"I realize you didn't study medicine," he spoke, his voice low and obviously trying to hold back an outburst, "but this is far from a scratch." He pointed at the jagged edges of the stab wound. Charlie cringed. During his trip he had managed to somehow rip open most of the stitches, leaving a slowly oozing wound. The sight was not pretty, and the pain was worse.
Seeing the wound seemed to awaken his brain, which made the connection and the pain intensified. Charlie grunted, his breathing stilling for a second, as if hoping it would make things better. It didn't.
"Uh... there... might've been a knife involved," Charlie admitted and hissed as Blake touched the skin above the cut, perusing the wound.
"You think so?" Blake commented with sarcasm.
Charlie didn't speak. He held still although everything in him screamed to pull away. Blake looked at his face and let out a sigh.
"Alright, I need to fix this properly," he said and straightened. "Can you take off your jacket and the shirt please?"
Charlie hesitated.
"I don't want to mess up your car," he mumbled.
"I think the upholstery is the least of our concern right now Charlie," Blake said, exasperated. Charlie didn't protest anymore. He managed with the jacket, albeit it was a fight. The sweatshirt though was impossible to take off without help. Blake took pity on him and with some manoeuvring managed the task. Charlie was sure it wasn't necessary. He could've just as well held up the hem, but Blake seemed adamant.
"I want to make sure it's the only 'scratch' we have to deal with," he told Charlie upon hearing the grumbled protests. Charlie went silent.
Finally, the shirt was gone and Charlie was left shivering only with his pants on. He really hoped no car would be passing by anytime soon, though Blake at least parked them in such a way his seat was covered by the tree trunk from the road.
Blake stood next to the door for a moment, eyes roaming up and down Charlie's chest and back. Charlie sat there shivering and hoping the ground would swallow him. He didn't really dare to look at himself, not after he caught sight of the bruises in the rear-view mirror. So he was staring out the window instead, until he got tired of the cold.
"Doc?" he asked, pulling Blake from his thoughts.
Blake cleared his throat, then gave a nod.
"Of course," he muttered and reached onto the backseat for his medical bag. Obviously he came prepared.
"Can you turn a bit?" Blake asked as he squatted down to pull some bandages from his bag. Charlie reluctantly did so. Blake looked up and that's when he noticed the sewn up cut on Charlie's forearm and the bandage on Charlie's right elbow. His eyes narrowed once again.
"What's that?"
Charlie followed his look and shrugged.
"Oh, that. I told Erik the band aid would do," Charlie said dismissively.
"Erik?"
"The cop, my guard at the..." Charlie paused, then with a sigh added: "-hospital."
Blake looked at him expectantly.
"Why was Erik in charge of band aids at the hospital?"
Charlie decided looking at his lap was probably better than being subjected to Blake's fierce gaze.
"Charlie! I'm talking to you," Blake said, tapping Charlie's chin.
"I couldn't wait around for a nurse," Charlie said, which in hindsight he realized wasn't exactly informative to Blake.
"What's wrong with your arm Charlie?" Blake asked the question, slowly as if talking to a child, which was enough of a sign that he was trying to keep hold on his annoyance. Though one look at his storming eyes told Charlie that if he kept beating about the bush, Blake would blow up soon.
Well, this was as good a time to come clean as any he supposed. Not that he had much of a choice.
"Nothing's wrong with my arm. After the nurse tried to kill me, I decided to leave the hospital. So I pulled out the IV. That's all."
Well, maybe there was too much information at once. Blake blinked, seemingly trying to digest it all.
"A nurse tried to kill you," Blake stated.
Charlie nodded.
"At a hospital."
Another nod, this time a bit more hesitant.
"Where you were because of a stab wound."
Charlie frowned. Why the hell was Blake repeating everything he said?
"Doc? You alright?" Maybe the drive was too long. Hell, Charlie didn't even know if the Doc hadn't spent the night up trying to solve a case. Maybe he was tired?
His confusion must've been palpable.
Blake took in a slow, measured breath.
"So if I am correct... you weren't discharged?"
Charlie shook his head.
"When did the whole stabbing occur?"
Charlie's brow furrowed in thought. He wasn't exactly sure. The night and day seemed to blur together.
"What's today?" he asked carefully.
"Thursday."
"Oh. Last night then," Charlie said, feeling relieved that he didn't lose that much time after all.
Blake didn't seem to share his elation. He was frowning at the wound as if trying to stop the bleeding by pure will. Unfortunately it didn't work.
"Doc?" Charlie was getting unnerved and frankly, the cold was getting worse. If Blake didn't start fixing the problem, he would just put the shirt back on and drive them the hell home himself. Right now the call of the bed was stronger than even his fear about Lawson's reaction.
Blake finally seemed to snap out of whatever thoughts were plaguing him. He gave Charlie a short nod.
"This will hurt a bit," he warned, before pushing a roll of bandage against the wound.
Charlie hissed, his whole body recoiling. But there was nowhere to go. Blake's other hand took firm hold of Charlie's shoulder, keeping him in place even as he pressed the bandage against the wound.
"Hold it there, and keep the pressure," Blake told him shortly, leading Charlie's right hand over his own. Once Charlie got a shaky hold of the bandage, Blake pulled out another, this time undoing it. The wrapping process was a bit awkward, especially inside the car, but they managed. By the time Blake taped off the bandage's end though, Charlie was covered in cold sweat, his breathing laboured. Blake wasn't messing around. The wrapping was tight and Charlie felt as if there was a fist pressing against the wound.
"It should stop the bleeding, at least until we get home," Blake spoke, his tone surprisingly gentle. Charlie felt a hand rest on the nape of his neck and he looked up.
"I take it you didn't stick around to get your prescriptions? Or medical file?"
Charlie shook his head. He was too tired to answer really and he worried that his voice might show his level of discomfort.
"As I thought," Blake muttered. "Let me check that nothing else is wrong, then I'll give you something for the pain, alright?"
"Sounds good," Charlie croaked out.
With more gentleness and less urgency, Blake palpated Charlie's ribs. He noted none seemed to be broken, although there might've been a crack. Not that the bruises weren't painful enough. He paid a bit more attention to Charlie's head, fingers roaming through the uncombed hair, checking for bumps. Fortunately there were none, although when he was asked to follow Blake's finger, Charlie found it a bit difficult. Though it might've been just because Charlie's eyes were too blurry from tiredness.
Finally, Blake was satisfied enough that Charlie wasn't about to drop dead and that he wasn't hiding any gunshot wounds or a severed limb. He helped Charlie back into the sweatshirt.
"Sorry about that. I should've brought some spare clothing, but it didn't occur to me," Blake apologized as he pulled the bloodied hem down back over Charlie's abdomen. Charlie shrugged it off.
"It's okay," he muttered, grimacing when his hand caught on the jacket's arm. By the time Blake helped him pull up the zipper, Charlie felt that the slightest wind could blow him over. He was drenched in sweat while shaking from cold. His lips felt parched once again and he wanted to ask Blake to hand him the thermos, when the man instead pushed a plate of cookies at him.
Charlie blinked, confused.
"Not hungry," he grumbled, looking at Blake as if he lost his mind.
"I know. But you need to eat something. I'm not giving you the painkillers on empty stomach."
Charlie weighed the benefits of the painkillers versus the fact he should eat a cookie. He still felt dizzy and slightly nauseous. But the pain didn't seem to be helping with that either and they weren't even moving. Charlie worried that the drive without any painkillers would be pure torture.
So reluctantly, he took one of Jean's chocolate chip cookies and started nibbling at it. Blake seemed pleased.
Charlie managed to force down about half of it, before he felt like choking and put it down.
"Enough," he grumbled, giving Blake a glare.
Blake ignored it, instead handed him over two pills and the tea. Charlie took this much more gratefully. Swallowing down the pills, Charlie leaned his head back on the seat and let out a sigh.
"Can we go now?" he asked, eyes closed.
"Maybe you should lie down in the back?" Blake offered. "Might be more comfortable."
Charlie just shook his head. He had enough of the cramped back seat in Johnson's car. He didn't want the humiliation of arriving home in the back, like some invalid.
"Not moving," he said without opening his eyes.
Blake let out a sigh, but didn't fight him on this. The engine turned on and the car pulled back on the road. Charlie kept his eyes closed, willing the pills to work. Willing his body to fall asleep and stay that way until they arrived home.