A/N: Well, it's time to bring Charlie home, am I right? Once again, warning for some partially graphic medical procedures. Some hurt. Some comfort. Uh... that should about cover it:) Also want to thank Mitziedits for the wonderful cover picture she created for this story! Check it out :) 3
They were maybe halfway to Ballarat. Charlie had drifted off, the pain finally dulling to manageable levels thanks to the pills Blake gave him. The sound of the engine was also lulling and giving him a sense of safety. The smell of this car was different than the one Kenneth used to drive him from one fight to other. There was the familiar scent of Blake's cologne, the still new smell of leather seats and just a hint of Jean's perfume.
While that, combined with the deep bone weariness he felt had a soothing effect on him, it still couldn't stop the nightmarish images of Caleb brandishing a knife.
Charlie was back in the cage, once again replaying the fight. He had thrown away his knife, rather risking death than killing the boy. It didn't help though. Caleb, confused by the drugs and the demanding crowd, charged at him. Charlie grasped the hand with the knife inches from his body and they struggled for control.
Something had to give and Charlie knew how this was going to end. He could just feel the knife piercing his skin... when the ground under him shook. There was a jolt. He felt the pain in his side, but when he took a step backwards, it wasn't him who was bleeding.
Caleb was looking at him with wide eyed betrayal. His hands were still holding the hilt of the knife that was now embedded inside his chest.
A trickle of blood ran down his chin as his eyes became glassy and body crumpled to the ground.
"No!" Charlie shouted, taking a leap forward in the effort to catch the boy.
Charlie's hand hit the dashboard, his eyes snapping open.
He was in the car... heading home.
Caleb was gone.
No, he shook his head. Caleb was safe and alive. He didn't kill him.
"Alright there Charlie?" Blake was giving him a look and Charlie wasn't sure if he made a sound or not.
He swallowed and gave a nod, finding it hard to speak. His throat felt tight, his heart beating harshly against his rib cage. For a moment he thought Blake must've heard that too, how could he not?
"Charlie?"
Charlie wanted to say he was alright, that Blake should just ignore him. He wanted to close his eyes and pretend to be asleep to escape questions. But he was too afraid. Of seeing Caleb dead, killed by his own hands.
Sleep wasn't on the menu, but as soon as Charlie came to that notion, his body seemed to awaken, reminding him of all that was wrong. And something was wrong.
While the painkillers Blake gave him dulled the pain in his arm and side, they did nothing for the overall feeling of discomfort. Even though he kept the jacket on and it was positively warm in the car, Charlie felt chilled. The material of the pants seemed to be chafing the skin on his leg. No position was comfortable. Worse however was the increasing feeling of the gravity playing tricks on him. His limbs were weighing a ton while his head was about to float off.
Charlie blinked, trying to clear his eyes. The road passing by was becoming blurry and it was making him dizzy.
He felt a hand touch his arm.
"Huh?"
"I asked what's wrong, Charlie. Talk to me."
Charlie shook his head but that only seemed to make matters worse. He reached out for the dashboard, trying to use it as an anchor.
"Feel a bit... lightheaded," he managed to say, taking a few deeper breaths. Maybe he just forgot to breathe properly.
Blake's hand left his arm momentarily, as he slowed down the car and pulled over at the side of the road.
Charlie was dismayed to see that it took a moment for the road to stop rolling in front of him. He tried leaning his head back on the seat and closed his eyes.
He kept them closed even as he heard the car doors open. Blake had suddenly appeared on his left side and Charlie felt the man lift up the hem of his shirt then let out a sigh.
Charlie opened his eyes, following the look down his torso. While the bandage wasn't soaked through, several spots of blood had made it to the surface. Charlie grimaced. He didn't fancy any new attempts at stopping the bleeding, the bandage had felt tight enough as it was.
Fortunately, Blake didn't seem inclined to solve the issue either. He didn't so much as poke at the bandage, just let the shirt fall back down.
"Ts not that bad, Doc," Charlie said. "Let's keep driving."
Blake huffed, then reached out and gently turned Charlie's face to him, checking out his eyes.
"Anything else bothering you except for light-headedness?"
Charlie frowned. There was a dozen things bothering him really, but he didn't think any of them popped up suddenly.
"Don't think so. Just tired. Feeling off."
Blake nodded.
"Can you turn towards me please?"
Charlie groaned.
"Doc. I'm fine," he realized it sounded like whining, but he really didn't want to move. He was worried that any sudden movement might just make him toss the cookie he ate.
"Charlie... I'm trying to help. Isn't that why you called me?"
Charlie sighed, slowly turning towards Blake.
"I called for a ride," he muttered as Blake took hold of his right wrist and started checking his pulse.
"Well, the car and the help comes in one package. I thought you knew that," Blake said with a small smile. It turned into a frown though as he ran his hand over Charlie's forehead.
"You have a fever."
"Am I gonna live?" he asked, only half joking. At the moment he felt it could go either way.
"It depends."
Charlie's eyebrows went up.
"On Matthew and Jean's reaction once they see you," Blake added. Charlie snorted. Right. He still had to explain to his Boss everything that happened.
"Maybe you could just drop me off in Melbourne for a few days?" he tried half jokingly but Blake shook his head.
"And risk being eviscerated? I'd rather have a few more years next to my lovely wife, thank you very much."
Charlie would have smiled if he hadn't been hit by a wave of dizziness. The cookie didn't seem to sit well after all and he leaned over, groaning and praying that he wouldn't get sick. He was pretty sure the wound in his abdomen wouldn't appreciate it.
"Breathe through it," Blake spoke, rubbing a hand over Charlie's back while he sat hunched over, staring at the pavement. It took a few minutes of stillness for his stomach to settle. By that time, Charlie was trembling from cold and exhaustion, feeling like any moment the world might just turn dark around him.
Blake haven't left his side during this, only moving away for a second to grab the bottle of water and push it at Charlie.
"Take a few sips, then I think you should lie down."
Charlie grimaced, though not at the idea of getting horizontal. Rather the idea of moving to achieve it. Blake seemed to misunderstand that.
"I'm not debating this with you, Charlie. You lost who knows how much blood last night, you are still bleeding. You're dehydrated and the wound is most likely infected. Last thing I want is for you to go into shock while we are out in the middle of nowhere."
"Not arguing there, Doc," Charlie muttered dejectedly. "Just don't wanna move," he added as an explanation, looking up at Blake with weary eyes.
"Oh. Right," Blake nodded. "Don't worry, it'll take only a moment and you will be much more comfortable."
Charlie grunted. He didn't really believe him, but he could hardly argue.
"Drink a bit more if you can," Blake said, nudging the bottle back at him and Charlie paused. Where did the water come from anyway? Last time all they had was tea.
"I had to stop for gas earlier, so I grabbed water too. And juice, if you prefer that."
Charlie gave a small shake of head.
"Alright then, let's get you a bit more comfortable," Blake said as he opened the back door. He made quick work with the mess on the back seat and spent a few moments rummaging through the trunk, until he emerged, with a smile of success on his face and an old and dusty blanket in his hands.
"I knew there was something there."
Charlie shot him a doubtful look. He felt sick, but not sick enough to be wrapped up in that. Blake saw the look on his face and rolled his eyes.
"You can use it as a pillow," he stated and threw the bundled up blanket inside. Then he held out his hand to Charlie to help him up of the seat. Charlie wanted to decline. He wanted to get up and settle in the back without assistance. It was embarrassing enough to need to lie down at all, in the middle of the day. However, he recognized his limitations. As soon as he stood, the world had swirled and the colours turned grey. If not for the car door and Blake's arm propping him up, he would've swayed around like a scarecrow in the wind.
It took some manoeuvring which Charlie bore with a few pained grunts and clenched teeth. But soon he was mostly lying down, with his knees bent and facing the roof. With some effort he could turn just enough to see Blake once he settled back in the driver seat.
"Comfortable enough?" Blake asked, turning so he could face Charlie.
"I suppose," Charlie grunted. He had to admit, lying down seemed to make the dizziness a bit more bearable. At least he didn't have to worry about his head floating off suddenly. The blanket under his head smelled surprisingly like... grass. Or rather hay. His mind came up with several reasons why that could be and knowing Blake... he decided not to pursue the matter.
"How far home?" he asked once the car turned back to the road. He truly lost track of time and how much distance they might've covered, especially since Blake seemed to be driving below the speed limit.
"Two or three hours," Blake answered. "Depends on the speed." It was clear the man wanted to drive faster but didn't out of consideration for Charlie.
"Faster sounds good, Doc," Charlie said.
"You sure?"
"Prefer my own bed," he muttered but Blake still heard him.
"About that, Charlie..." the man hedged and Charlie turned his head to look at him.
"Doc?"
"I think maybe it would be better if we stop at the hospital first," Blake started but Charlie was already shaking his head, trying to hold back the panic.
"No."
"Charlie," Blake shot him a glance in the rear-view mirror, and Charlie knew the man meant well. That maybe things would be easier, if not for Charlie then for the others. Blake wouldn't have to take care of him, he wouldn't be stuck at home and Jean wouldn't have to be running around him. Most of all, Blake wouldn't risk his medical license for Charlie's sake.
He knew all that, on the logical level.
But after the last two weeks, after constant fear of being found out, after suffering at the hands of strangers, that just wasn't an option.
"Doc... I can't. Please. Don't make me."
Blake frowned.
"Why?" he asked after a moment. "Why are you so afraid, Charlie?"
"I had a sadistic doctor sew me up without anaesthetic." Charlie paused, trying to get his thoughts in order. Trying to quench the shaking of his own voice at the memory. "The same doctor that worked at the hospital where I was taken later."
Blake kept silent, though Charlie could see his knuckles turning white from clutching the steering wheel. He could see Blake's teeth clench by the sharp angle of his jaw.
"I woke up... to a nurse pushing a needle into my IV. My guard was gone. She had... no business being there."
The car jumped and Charlie grunted. Blake had obviously stepped down on the pedal more than he planned.
"Sorry," Blake said and the car slowed down considerably. "What on earth happened over there, Charlie?"
Charlie didn't know how to answer that. Erik had screwed up. Hell, Johnson had most likely screwed up at some point. The fact was, he was still in danger.
"Two of the guys got away, Doc. Kendrick... the doctor who supplied them with drugs... he's most likely back at work. Until someone else talks... Me and Caleb are the only witnesses. So... no. I don't want to be anywhere near a hospital."
"I can understand that, Charlie. Lord knows I do. What you went through sounds terrible and I wish we'd known sooner. But.. Ballarat is a long way from Leighton. We wouldn't leave you alone."
Charlie imagined Lawson or Blake staking out his room. He knew the chances of anyone figuring out who he really was and where to look for him were currently slim. It wasn't a logical decision on his part. However, it was the only one he could accept.
"I can't. I'd rather stay in a hotel alone than go to the hospital."
"Charlie-"
"No, Doc!" Charlie grunted out. "I was threatened, almost killed twice. I have enough of strangers I can't trust." Charlie took a breath to try and calm himself down. In a lower voice, he added:
"I want to go home. Where it's safe. That's all."
There was really nothing Blake could say to that. He seemed to think it over, then with a sigh, nodded.
"Alright, Charlie. Home it is."
They made it in two hours. By the time Blake parked the car in front of the house, it was mostly dark. Charlie had been zoning in and out of consciousness for the last hour. Each time he managed to fall into slumber, he came to with a startle. The first time it happened, Blake asked what was bothering him, but Charlie just shook his head, muttered something incoherent and pretended to go back to sleep. Of course Blake could feel Charlie's eyes on him, until he once again fell asleep.
It was unnerving to say the least. Blake still didn't have the whole story of what happened, but from what information Charlie gave him, the threat was real. While he didn't think Charlie would be in danger at the hospital, not with him and Lawson by his side, there was something about Charlie's words that hit close to home.
'I want to go home. Where it's safe.'
Blake knew that feeling very well. After the war ended, after he was freed, he would've given anything to return home. To his house with Mei-lin and their daughter. Nothing would have stopped him, not even the fact he could barely stand at the time. The only reason he stayed in Singapore for the next month was that he had nowhere to return to. With his wife and child missing or dead, there really was no urgency to go anywhere.
However, he had seen that same desperation and weariness on the faces of his fellow soldiers. That wariness of strangers around, trouble falling asleep. Waking up covered in cold sweat and fear filling their eyes.
Blake hoped Charlie didn't go through anything that horrible. He hoped this was something that a bit of time and support could fix. In a way, he wanted to keep the boy close as well. After hearing what has been happening, while they were all calmly waiting, unsuspecting, sent shivers down his spine.
Thus seeing his house in front of him, warm light pouring out of the windows and Lawson's car on the lawn, Blake allowed a smile to touch his lips. They were home.
The door opened, revealing Jean heading their way. He could see her pause midway as she noted Charlie's absence from the passenger seat.
Blake supposed it was time to wake Charlie.
He stepped out of the car, waving at Jean.
"Lucien? Where-"
"In the back," Blake said quickly, trying to keep his voice calm. He was pretty sure Jean would freak out once she saw Charlie in this state. Hell, Blake himself still winced every time he looked at Charlie, even though he had a six hour drive to get used to his derelict look.
"What? Why?" she frowned as she stepped beside him. Blake opened the door and leaned inside, putting his hand on Charlie's right leg and giving it a slight shake.
"Charlie? Wake up. We're home."
Charlie grunted and gave a feeble kick with his leg, trying to shake off the disturbance.
"Dear lord, Charlie?"
It was Jean's yelp as she took a first look at him that caused Charlie's eyes to open. He stared at them both fuzzily. It was obvious he needed a moment to focus on them. When he did, he put on a drunken smile.
"Mrs. Beazley... m home," he uttered and Blake's brow furrowed. Jean hasn't been Mrs. Beazley for several months now. Charlie's state of mind seemed to be deteriorating, which wasn't a good sign. He hoped it was just the weariness and not the effect of some hidden injury.
"Charlie, what on earth happened to you?" Jean asked, shooting Blake a wide eyed look.
"Long story," Blake said, giving a small shake of head. "We need to get him inside."
She didn't argue with that, though she did look towards the door. Lawson was heading their way as well.
"Lucien? Where is he?"
Blake sighed. So much for not having to answer twenty questions.
"In the car. Alright Charlie, let's get you into to house, shall we?"
Charlie grimaced.
"Think I'll stay here," he mumbled, closing his eyes.
Just then Lawson reached the car and peeked inside. His face turned into a frown.
"Davis!" he barked and Charlie's eyes snapped open. It was clear he wasn't sure what was going on, but was reacting on instinct.
"Boss?"
"Stop lazing about and get out of the damn car."
"Matthew!" Jean looked at him, appalled.
"What? I'm trying to help," Lawson said in a softer tone. And he was right. Charlie had scrambled to get out of the car. Well, he was trying to, but his body protested. He froze halfway out, right hand wrapped around his side, face a grimace of pain.
"It's alright, easy. Let us help," Blake spoke to him, shooting a glare at Lawson. "Don't rush him."
Lawson grunted, his eyes narrowing. Only now did he get a proper look at Charlie's face, at the haggard state he was in.
"What the hell happened Lucien?" he asked, voice low and dangerous.
"Later," Blake said, giving both Lawson and Jean a pointed look even as he leaned down, wrapping his arm around Charlie's torso and helping him up. Charlie barely made it into standing position when his eyes rolled back, knees buckling. Jean was standing closer, so she wrapped his casted arm over her shoulder, sharing his weight between her and Blake.
"Thanks. Matthew, can you open the door to the surgery?"
"Why the hell didn't you drive him straight to the hospital?" Matthew asked, but he was already heading towards the house.
"He didn't want to go."
"Since when are you asking?"
Blake didn't respond. Lawson shot him a questioning look but must've seen his determination, because he didn't press more.
"He looks terrible, Lucien," Jean muttered even as they were easing Charlie down on the exam bed in the surgery. "What happened to him?"
"I'll explain everything I know... but I need to fix him up first."
Jean and Matthew shared a look. Charlie on the bed twitched, his eyes fluttering open. Jean couldn't stop herself from running her hand over his forehead soothingly.
"He's too warm," she muttered.
Charlie stilled a bit, looking up at her lazily.
"Hey there," she said, putting on a smile.
Charlie's eyes roamed the room. He tensed for a moment as he realized he was on an exam bed instead of a normal one, but then he took in the familiarity of the place.
"Home?" he asked, running his tongue over dry lips.
"Yes, you're home," she said and watched as his body relaxed. He found Blake's face and gave him a nod.
"Thanks Doc," he croaked, his eyes closing once again.
"Lucien?" Jean looked up a bit panicked. Blake was already by his side.
"He's just... asleep. Let him rest. It'll be easier to treat him that way."
Her brows furrowed.
"Treat what exactly?" It was Lawson, standing behind them who asked the question.
Blake wasn't keen on speaking though. He was focusing on Charlie, one hand on his wrist, checking his watch. Once he got the numbers, he started bustling around the surgery. First he took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, then headed towards the sink to wash up.
"Blake! Talk to us!"
"Look, it was a long ride. I don't want to be losing time answering questions, so please... let me focus on Charlie now, alright? Once I'm done, I'll fill you in."
Lawson grunted, obviously not happy about being sidelined. Jean on the other hand recognized her husband's worry and need to act. She knew answers could wait. Charlie couldn't.
"How can we help?"
Blake shot her a grateful look.
"Boil me some water. Then wash up. I will need assistance."
Jean nodded and went to the kitchen.
Lawson was now standing by the foot of the exam bed, looking at Charlie quizzically. It was clear he was dying to ask questions, just as it was apparent he was fighting down his anger. Someone had hurt one of his men. That should not have happened.
"Is there anything I can do now?" he asked and Blake was glad he kept that anger under check. Charlie wasn't totally out of it yet and he seemed to subconsciously react to any louder sound by a twitch of a muscle or grimace.
"Just let me work."
Lawson nodded, reluctantly heading towards the door.
"Matthew?" Blake called after him and Lawson turned.
"Yes?"
"Did anyone call about Charlie?" Blake asked.
"Few minutes before you arrived."
Blake frowned.
"They called the house?"
"Yes. It was O'Leary. The guy that told me Charlie was off on training."
"What did he say?"
"That Charlie had left earlier than he was supposed to. To call him if he returns home."
"Nothing else? No mentions of... this?" he asked with a frown, nodding at Charlie.
"Nope," Lawson said and it sounded almost as a growl.
"What did you tell him?"
Lawson shrugged.
"That he'll be the first to know of course."
Blake raised a brow while Lawson inclined his head.
"I didn't say when that will be however." Lawson's voice bore a coldness that promised pain to whomever was responsible. If it was O'Leary, well. Blake wouldn't stop him. Hell, if he asked, he would gladly help dig another grave.
"Alright." Blake nodded, absent-mindedly. His focus was back on the patient. He unzipped the jacket and was trying to take it off, but it was a struggle with a half unconscious body. Charlie mumbled and his first reaction was to struck out.
"Hey, relax. It's just me," Blake soothed, grabbing Charlie's broken arm to stop him from smashing it against him or the bed. His other hand went to Charlie's face, patting his cheek gently. "Calm down, Charlie. I'm trying to help."
Charlie blinked, looking confused.
"Doc?"
"Yeah. We need to take off the jacket, okay?"
Charlie grumbled something, eyes roaming across the room.
"Matthew, help me get these clothes off him," Blake called out, seeing that Lawson was reluctant to leave the room still. Lawson was next to him in a moment. Between the two of them, they managed to take off the jacket without too much hassle. The hoodie was a bit more troubling as Charlie put up a fight. He stilled though once Lawson barked "Stop that nonsense Davis!"
"Sorry Boss," Charlie muttered and Blake felt bad for the confused look on his face. It was clear Charlie was having trouble staying in the present and making head or heel of the situation. He kept up a string of reassuring words, even through a string of curses Lawson let out once he saw the bloody bandage wrapped around Charlie's midsection or the bruises littering his body.
"I will want a full report as soon as you finish here Lucien," he growled. Blake wanted to snap at him that they weren't at work and he wasn't his boss, but let it slide for now. He knew he would give Matthew all the answers he sought soon enough. Right now Charlie had priority.
"Dear lord, was he shot?" Jean asked as Blake undid the bandages, throwing them on the floor. He didn't notice when she returned. She now stood by his desk, a bowl of boiled water in her hands.
"It's a stab wound actually," Blake corrected her, wishing he could wash the worry from her eyes.
"Once again, why did you bring him here?" Lawson growled.
"It had been treated before," Blake tried to sooth both of them. "Just a few popped stitches is all." He beckoned for Jean to bring the bowl with water to him. He pulled up a stool to put it down on it, then went on to prepare the needed instruments and medicine.
"It looks more bloody than just a few popped stitches," Lawson argued.
"Twelve hours on the road would do that," Blake uttered. "Jean, be a dear. Can you get me the blood pressure cuff?"
She nodded and grabbed the device, handing it over to Blake. She watched as he wrapped the cuff around Charlie's right arm, put the stethoscope under it and pumped up the cuff tight. Charlie squirmed under the pressure, tossing his head to the side.
"Whazzat?" he asked, eyes still closed but brow furrowed.
"Hush, go back to sleep," she cooed, once again running her fingers over his hair as he seemed to relax under her touch.
"Blood pressure is low, pulse is high. He needs fluids," Blake muttered once he finished the measurement. He was also worried about fever and infection, feeling the dry and warm skin under his fingers.
"Do you want to set up an IV?" Jean asked, correctly assuming his next steps. Blake nodded and once again headed for his cabinet. He rummaged through, finding what he needed quickly. He grimaced when he saw he was running out of saline. Of course, he didn't tend to keep too many bottles around. This was a small practice after all and seldom did he find an use for such treatment, outside of curing the worst of hangovers. Well, this time he would put it to better use. And in the morning he could always stop by at the pharmacy to fill up his stock if needed.
"Do you need any help?" Lawson asked and Blake realized the man still hadn't left the room.
"Not now. Just don't get in the way," he said a bit gruffly. He wasn't mad at Lawson, but his presence was a stark reminder that this wasn't an usual patient. Not that Blake didn't know that already.
Lawson didn't seem to take offence. He nodded and moved to lean against the wall near the door. Watching, thinking. Possibly plotting murder.
Blake let him and promptly forgot his presence. He needed to focus.
"What are you giving him?" Lawson asked a moment later and Blake's mouth twitched. So much for forgetting the man.
"Fluids. Antibiotics. Something for the pain."
Lawson frowned.
"You won't put him out for-" he waved towards Charlie's stomach with a disturbed look on his face. "Whatever it is you're planning?"
Blake shook his head.
"I don't want to risk sedating him under the circumstances."
"I don't like this. He shouldn't be here for some backend surgery. For Christ's sake, he's a cop! He has a right to a hospital!" Lawson grumbled, his voice rising in volume.
Blake could see it was distressing Charlie. He looked at Jean, who seemed to understand. She started speaking at Charlie in a soft tone, while Blake crossed the room. He was now face to face with Lawson, still giving him a glare.
"Keep your voice down, or I will kick you out of this room!" Blake hissed. "I know you have questions and that you worry. I'm not happy about this situation either, but Charlie has his reasons, and I will respect them. You can wait outside if you don't." Blake's tone was icy and firm. Lawson didn't step back though.
"Tell me he shouldn't be somewhere else right now," he uttered through clenched teeth.
Blake counted to three. Let out a strangled breath, then he put his hand on Lawson's shoulder.
"He is in the best possible hands right now. So please... let me do what I need to do."
It was testament to their friendship when Lawson finally succumbed.
"Do what you have to. I'll be in the living room."
With that, Lawson cast one more look Charlie's way, then turned and left. Blake let out a sigh. One battle won. Only few more to go.
He returned back to Charlie, finally able to put all his focus on him. The small argument didn't go unnoticed it seemed. Charlie's eyes were partially open and he looked worried, confused. Jean's voice and her gentle caress seemed to be helping some, but Blake knew it wouldn't be enough once he started cleaning the wound. He was hoping that the fluids and painkillers from the IV might relax Charlie enough to fall back to sleep.
Unfortunately, things didn't go as easy. Swabbing Charlie's arm with an alcohol pad didn't get much of a reaction. However, the moment Blake pushed the needle against Charlie's skin, all hell broke loose.