A/N: This one is pure h/c. Warning for some possibly innacurate medical stuff (if that squicks you out, you might wanna skip this chapter). If you here for the whump, then by all means, carry on and enjoy :)
He was almost there. He was so close he could smell the freedom. All that was standing in his way was a door.
Charlie took in a breath and slowly reached for the handle. He could hear someone in the kitchen, bustling about, a creak of a cabinet somewhere near. It sent a shiver of apprehension down his spine.
'Come on Charlie, do it,' he told himself and carefully opened the door.
Freedom.
First thing that hit him in the face was cold air, rushing over his skin. It seemed to be unnaturally cold for the season, but Charlie didn't mind. Cold air meant he was outside.
The sky was dark and Charlie frowned at the lack of stars. He couldn't see a thing really.
Except for two shiny spots. Coming closer. Growing brighter.
Charlie swallowed, his excitement over escaping fading away.
He had seen this before.
Two spots, reflecting the light from the windows. Coming closer.
The silence of the night was broken by a guttural growl and soon, Charlie saw yellowed teeth glinting beneath shining eyes.
A shadow moved and teeth bore down into his leg, clamping down viciously. Charlie kicked out, the teeth vanishing for a second.
He took a step back and suddenly he was inside the house again.
Kenneth's hand gripped his right arm tightly as he slammed him against the wall. Charlie couldn't move. All he could focus on was the growing pressure on his arm. More bruises, he thought. Kenneth's grip seemed to be stronger than possible and Charlie started to worry. He couldn't feel his fingertips anymore and it felt as if his arm was going to pop off. He tried to squirm out, but the hold was relentless.
Charlie couldn't stop the moan of distress. He hated himself for it instantly.
He wouldn't plead, not with Kenneth.
There was a voice though, somewhere in the distance. It felt as if a gentle breeze brushed at his hair and suddenly the pressure was gone. Kenneth was still there and Charlie still couldn't move, but the house seemed to be falling into a fog. Ben stepped out into the hall.
There was arguing. Charlie could hear raised voices, but they sounded from far away. He didn't like it, but didn't feel threatened. They were calming down and there was a presence nearby, humming.
A familiar voice, one that allowed his eyes to close and push everything out. His body welcomed the reprieve, even if it was short lived.
Charlie was somewhere on the verge, his mind floating in nothingness. He could feel the aches and discomfort of his body, could feel the cold air over his naked skin, the occasional touch. But it was all far away, as if happening to someone else. Just sensations that didn't really reach him.
Until something sharp pierced the skin of his elbow.
A needle.
Suddenly, it was as if Charlie's mind was slammed back into his body with such force it left him reeling. His heart was rushing, pumping adrenaline through the veins. The sweet haze of indifference was gone, replaced by one thing only.
Fear.
There was a needle wheedling it's way under his skin, planning to deliver who knew what kind of poison.
Charlie's eyes shot open as his body reacted on pure instinct. He jerked his arm back, out of his attackers grip. Next moment he curled on his side, ready to kick out at anyone nearby who tried to stop him. He had to leave, get off the bed, out of the room. He had to get home to safety.
Panic was clouding his mind and he didn't register the voices calling his name.
All he sensed were several pairs of hands, trying to stop him.
He grunted and cursed, not above biting anything that came close in his desperation.
His body was refusing to cooperate.
He made it halfway off the bed, but strong hands pulled him back. There was a weight over his chest, another bruising grip. And a litany of words.
"No!" he shouted, struggling. It was to no avail. His body felt weak, betraying him at the worst moment.
"Let me go!" Charlie half grunted, half whimpered.
A palm cradled his face and Charlie's eyes finally took in his surroundings.
"Charlie! It's us. Stop fighting. It's us!"
Blake.
Blake's face was only inches from his own, a mix of exasperation and surprise. He seemed to be caught breathless and Charlie blinked at the weird position they were both in. Charlie, half curled up on his right side, his right arm protectively tucked against his body. Blake was leaning over him, one hand still cradling his face, the other pushed against his chest, as if trying to push Charlie back onto his back.
Charlie was panting, his body trembling. There were more hands on him though and Charlie, wide eyed and mortified, turned his head, trying to see.
He caught sight of Jean, standing behind him. She had a shaky hold on his left shoulder and a hand on his flank, gripping the waistband of his pants. At the foot of the bed was Lawson, hands over Charlie's feet.
The look on his face was startling.
Charlie had never seen his boss distraught. Even when he was run over by the car and screaming with pain, he had the air of strength around him. Right now he looked uncertain.
Charlie hated that. He hated the look of worry and apprehension all three of his closest friends were throwing his way.
A sound of distress escaped his throat.
That more than anything broke through the stillness of the scene.
"It's alright, Charlie. You're safe," Blake muttered, nudging Charlie to look back at him.
Charlie reluctantly did. Anything had to be better than thinking about his boss having to restrain him during what amounted to a panic attack.
Charlie's eyes turned to Blake, deciding to latch onto the man and push everything else out.
"That's it, good boy. Now just try to relax. Slow down your breathing," Blake couched him softly. Between words he looked up and gave Lawson a short nod. Charlie felt the pressure from his feet vanish. He heard the retreating steps, though he didn't know if the man indeed left or just moved farther into the room.
It didn't matter. Blake was telling him to slow down. Jean was running soothing circles on his back. None of them made a move until he managed a shaky "Doc?"
"Yeah, I'm here," Blake said a bit unnecessarily. Charlie knew that. He would have to be blind not to know.
He scoffed.
"What it is, Charlie?"
"S-sorry," he mumbled, his face heating up in shame.
Blake shook his head.
"What for?"
Charlie frowned. Didn't he just cause a scene? Was this all another stupid dream? Was this even real?
His confusion must've been evident, because Blake took pity on him.
"It's alright. I startled you, nothing you should apologize for," he said in a reassuring tone.
Charlie though couldn't accept that.
"I thought I was... back there," he tried to explain.
"At the hospital?" Blake asked.
Charlie shook his head, frowning."It's all mixed up. 'm sorry."
"Oh Charlie," it was Jean, giving his shoulder a squeeze. Charlie had totally forgotten about her. His shoulders tensed. The thought of Jean seeing him like this, half naked and bloody, acting like a fearful child made him want to bury his head in a pillow.
"Ah, none of that," Blake chided when Charlie closed his eyes shut, moaning in frustration.
"Didn't want to," Charlie mumbled but opened his eyes to a squint. The light was getting on his nerves, making the thumping inside his head worse.
"What's that Charlie?"
"Make a mess," he added with a huff.
"You didn't. You just... put up an impressive fight," Blake said with a smile. Charlie groaned. He hoped he didn't hit anybody. He wasn't sure he could live that down.
"Sorry."
Blake shook his head.
"Enough of that. Care to tell me what scared you so?"
Charlie didn't want to. He thought it was stupid of him, especially once he realized he was indeed safe back in Blake's house. Everything here screamed safety, yet his heart was still taking it's time to calm down.
"Thought you were someone else," he finally admitted, his eyes turning down to his right arm, still pressed tightly against his chest.
"Ah."
Blake understood.
That was good. Charlie didn't feel like explaining right now.
"I'm sorry, Charlie. I should've tried to wake you up first," he admitted. Charlie gave a shrug. Maybe. He doubted he would've been awake enough. He was starting to have trouble keeping his eyes open now.
"Tired," he mumbled and closed his eyes.
Blake patted his face.
"Can you stay up a bit longer Charlie?"
Charlie didn't really want to.
"Why?"
"I need to set up an IV to give you some fluids. I'd rather do it now while you are awake. Don't want to risk startling you again."
"Don't need that," Charlie grumbled, hoping that would make Blake see reason. He was good. All he needed was sleep. Why didn't they just let him sleep?
"Actually, you do. Trust me, you will feel much better."
Charlie shook his head, keeping his eyes closed and arm tight to his chest. He knew he was acting like a petulant child but he supposed it wasn't any worse than what he did moments ago.
"Charlie," this time it was Jean. "Let us help you."
Charlie opened his eyes and turned his head a bit. She was giving him that look. The one filled with concern. The one he didn't want to disappoint really.
He groaned. Slowly and reluctantly, he straightened his right arm, fighting back a flinch when Blake took hold of it.
"That's it. Just relax. You're safe, I wouldn't hurt you," Blake said softly. Which was kind of a lie Charlie noted with a scoff a moment later as Blake was trying to find a vein. Upon his third attempt Charlie was about to recount his assent, teeth gritting through the discomfort.
"Got it!" Blake announced with more pride than the action deserved in Charlie's book.
Jean rolled her eyes, while handing Blake the tape needed to secure the catheter and attach the line.
"It's a bit hard to find a good vein when you're dehydrated," Blake muttered instead of an apology. "You did great, Charlie," he added with a smile and Charlie decided he could perhaps let the man off the hook.
"Can I sleep now?" he asked, thinking it was all over. The smile slipped from Blake's face.
"I'm afraid we still need to sort out that stab wound," Blake said, nodding towards Charlie's abdomen. Charlie looked down and promptly wished he hadn't.
The bandages were off, giving him a clear view of the gaping edges of the wound. Blood was once again oozing slowly, mixing with old crusted blood staining his skin. He supposed the fight he put up didn't help any.
A hand cupped his chin, turning his eyes away from the sight.
"It's alright, it looks worse than it is," Blake assured him. "But we need to clean it and stitch you up. I'll give you a local anaesthetic, but... you might still feel something. I'd rather you be awake than risk you waking up in the middle of it, confused."
Charlie could understand that.
He definitely didn't want to start trashing around while the Doc had a needle pushing through his skin. On the other hand, he also didn't want to be awake for that.
"Can't you just knock me out?" he asked plaintively.
"I'd rather not give you anything that might depress your breathing. If something goes wrong... I don't have the equipment needed to help you. Not unless you want to go to the hospital."
Charlie was shaking his head even before Blake finished.
"N-no. It's okay. I can handle it."
"Charlie, maybe it would be better-" Jean started, obviously trying to convince him to change his mind. Charlie didn't let her.
"No. Not safe there," he said and that was all he was willing to say. "Doc? Let's... get this over," he said, shooting a pleading look towards Blake.
"Alright." Blake nodded, then turned to his wife.
"Can you bring me some towels please? Thank you dear," he added when Jean went to fetch some. "Now, let's get you into a better position, shall we?"
Blake helped Charlie lie back down on his back. He adjusted the exam bed so it now lie straight, leaving Charlie to look at the ceiling if he didn't want to raise his head. Which he didn't. Seeing the mess on his stomach was enough to give him a few more nightmares. He cringed at the thought of someone having to clean up the bed and floor afterwards.
When Jean returned, Blake put one of the towels by Charlie's side, either to give him some support or to catch the blood, he wasn't sure. It still felt better than the plastic cover of the bed.
After some preparation, Blake pulled up a stool next to Charlie's bed and a small table with instruments and the bowl of water. Charlie shot it a look, then decided he would be better off counting the cracks in the ceiling.
His eyes were growing heavy though and he let them slip closed. For the moment, Blake didn't seem to mind. Charlie felt something wet running over his stomach, cleaning up the site around the wound as much as possible. He cringed, body tensing. The pain wasn't too bad yet. Blake was careful not to really touch the wound. Or was it Jean? Charlie wasn't sure. He decided keeping his eyes closed was the best idea.
"I'll give you the local now. Just a few pricks. You might feel a bit of a burning, but that should be all."
Charlie steeled himself for more pain. He winced, holding his breath as Blake injected the anaesthetic. It did burn, but it was a far cry from when Kendrick was treating his wound. Charlie could handle this. Soon, the burning turned into numbness. When Blake asked if he felt something as his gloved finger touched the cut, Charlie shook his head.
"Pressure," was all he muttered.
"Good. Relax now, I'll flush the wound with saline."
Charlie could feel the cold sensation and some discomfort at the pressure of the water, followed by a tickling sensation as it trickled down his side. Blake repeated the process a few times, wiping off the blood and saline.
When the sensation faded, Charlie opened his eyes to look at what was going on. He noted that Blake had a thoughtful look on his face but didn't ask him about it. Not after he saw the needle and thread in his hands. Swallowing, Charlie turned his face towards Jean, who was standing on the other side of the bed, handing Blake whatever he needed. She gave him a supportive smile when she noticed his attention was her way.
"Everything alright there Charlie?" Blake asked as he pushed the needle against the skin.
The area was still numb, so Charlie just nodded.
"Good. If you start feeling pain, let me know. I can use more of the local anaesthetic."
"It's alright now," Charlie muttered, hoping Blake would finish quickly. While the needle sliding into his skin wasn't painful, the thread tugging felt strange.
The stitches took surprisingly little time. Before Charlie even realized it, there was a fresh clean bandage put over the wound.
"All done," Blake said, putting away the used things. Charlie would've expected him to look happy about that. His job was done. Charlie just wanted to curl up in his own bed and sleep for the next day or two. But Blake didn't seem satisfied, on the contrary. Something was clearly bothering the man, as he kept looking at Charlie quizzically.
"What's troubling you?" It was Jean who asked the question as she noted that Blake was surreptitiously checking every visible wound on Charlie's chest and arms, as if looking for something.
"That fever," Blake muttered, frowning at the slash wound on Charlie's forearm. It had a few stitches, but Charlie barely even noticed it. "I thought the wound would be infected, but it looks alright. A bit irritated, but that wouldn't account for the symptoms he is showing."
Blake sighed, shaking his head.
"Did you have the fever at the hospital too, Charlie? What did the doctor say?"
Charlie blinked. He remembered the nurse saying something, though he wasn't paying that much attention.
"Uh... I don't know," he admitted.
Blake's eyes narrowed. The man was getting suspicious again and Charlie knew that didn't bode well for him.
"Don't know what? Did you even talk to a doctor or did you decide to run before that?" Blake asked almost jokingly before his face turned into a frown.
Charlie had the grace to flush and look away.
"Charlie!" This time it was Jean who was shooting him disapproving looks. Charlie shrugged.
"Wasn't time. I only saw a nurse," he admitted.
Blake looked as if he wanted to throttle someone. He ran a hand over his tired eyes, shaking his head before leaning against the exam bed, giving Charlie a questioning look.
"Well, what did she say?"
Charlie sighed, trying to recall the memory. His head was fuzzy and really all this questioning was just making him feel more irritated.
"Charlie," Blake nudged him when he was silent for too long. Charlie grimaced.
"Nothing really," he said. "She just checked my stomach and-" It was as if a light bulb went off. "Oh," Charlie said, cringing. He knew Blake wouldn't like what he said next.
"Oh?" Blake's brow lifted.
"Beast," Charlie huffed, cursing the blasted animal.
"You're not making any sense, Charlie," Blake noted, seeming worried.
"The dog. I was... it bit me."
"A dog bit you?"
Charlie wasn't sure who looked more surprised. Whether Blake or Jean. He felt his face heat up in embarrassment. It wasn't one of his best moments.
"Yeah. Few days ago," he mumbled, lifting his right hand to cover his face, only to grunt when the movement pulled at the forgotten IV.
"Of course. The limp. I thought you were just protecting your side," Blake muttered to himself even as he was moving towards the foot of the bed, rolling up the pants leg slightly to see the soiled bandage.
"Ah Charlie..." he shook his head. "You didn't think to mention this why?"
"I forgot?" Charlie said sheepishly. To be fair, in view of how uncomfortable he was feeling, the throbbing in his leg totally skipped his mind.
"That's not a thing you forget," Blake sighed. "I need to get a proper look, but I'm pretty sure it's infected and most likely the cause of the fever. We will need to clean that too before it gets worse. And hope that the antibiotics will clear it up."
"If not?" Charlie's eyes went wide.
"Let's cross that bridge when we get there, shall we?" Blake said and gave Charlie's thigh a gentle pat. "How attached are you to these pants?"
Charlie blinked.
"They aren't mine," he said, puzzled. For all he cared, they could be burned.
"Excellent. Jean?"
She was already handing him the scissors. Charlie felt the sudden draft on his leg as Blake did a short job and cut through the material almost to half his thigh.
"Any other injuries I should know about?" Blake asked and it was clear he was contemplating divesting Charlie of the pants completely to make sure. Charlie gave a quick shake of his head in protest.
Blake accepted that for the moment and focused on cutting off the bandage instead.
"Oh Charlie," Blake muttered and the tone of his voice made it clear he wasn't happy about what he saw. Charlie once again raised his head, trying to get a look. He caught sight of the angry redness and the fact his calf looked larger than usual. He swallowed and decided he didn't need to see more.
"Is it bad?" he asked instead, eyes returning to the perusal of the ceiling.
Blake's fingers touched the sensitive skin. Charlie hissed, his leg jerking away. How the hell did he not notice that? It felt as if something was pulsing inside his calf, sending waves of heat all over his body.
"It's not good. Could be worse, but... hopefully the antibiotics will help."
There was more pressure on the leg and Charlie gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out.
"I'm sorry Charlie. I need to check the bite..." Blake finally managed to find a position where he had a good view it seemed, because he stopped trying to twist Charlie's leg out of his knee socket.
"Ah. I'm afraid this would require a bit more cleaning," Blake commented after a moment and Charlie let out a groan. He really wasn't looking forward to more pain.
"Doc... please. I just wanna get some sleep," Charlie said, shooting Blake a pleading look. Blake patted him on the shoulder, looking apologetic.
"I know, Charlie. But this can't wait."
Charlie huffed.
"Say what... why don't you try to get a bit of rest? I'll need to prepare some things first anyway."
Charlie frowned. He didn't like the sound of that. Whatever did Blake need that wasn't already there?
"Don't worry, it won't be so bad," Blake reassured him with a smile.
It made Charlie worry more.
But he could hardly show that without making Blake lose time with useless reassurances. The sooner this thing was over, the sooner he could rest... in his bed. Right now that was the only thing keeping Charlie from having a temper tantrum like a two year old.
So he gave a small nod and decided to take Blake up on the offer of rest. There was hardly much else to do anyway.
"Alright. Jean, I will need to boil some more water-" Blake said, his voice lowering as he stepped aside to speak with Jean. Charlie might've tried to eavesdrop, but that would require effort and Blake was keeping his voice down on purpose.
Oh well. He would find out soon enough what was lying in store for him he supposed. Now if only he could perhaps get a blanket in the meantime. The room felt cold and he also felt self-conscious. After all, Jean was in the room and here he was, bare-chested and half pantless, covered in bruises. What could she be thinking?
Most likely how much of a loser he was, unable to even protect himself from a kid... or a stupid dog.
Charlie's face scrunched up into an unhappy grimace as thoughts like this kept pestering him. What would the guys at the station think? Hell... what was Lawson thinking? Having had to restrain him at one point. Charlie more and more wished that he had headed to Sydney instead. Maybe enduring the sight of strangers would have been easier than showing up like this and bearing the disappointment.
Someone ran a soothing hand over his scalp, startling him out of these gloomy thoughts.
"What's on your mind?"
It was Jean, looking at him with such warmth and concern that Charlie promptly forgot all his doubts. There was no judgment in those eyes.
"Missed you all," Charlie muttered, then ran his tongue through parched lips.
"We missed you too. Are you thirsty?"
Charlie nodded.
Jean handed him a glass of water and helped him sit up a bit by raising the head of the bed. Charlie greedily gulped down the liquid, scarcely heading her warning to slow down. He had most of it down when his stomach sent him a signal to stop or bear the consequences.
Charlie listened to it. He let Jean put away the glass and used his upright position to look around.
"Where's Blake?" he asked, confused by the emptiness of the room.
"In the kitchen, having a small argument with Matthew."
"Huh?" Charlie didn't understand. What could those two be arguing about?
"Don't worry about that. He'll be back soon."
Well, Charlie was more worried about that if truth be said.
"How does it look?" he asked, nodding towards his leg. What he could see from his position was the red, taunt skin. The bites though were on the back of his calf and he would have to twist his leg to get a proper look.
Jean patted his right hand.
"It'll be alright, Charlie. Lucien will take care of that."
Charlie hoped so. He really didn't want to think about the possibility of losing his leg or having to limp for the rest of his life. He thought Lawson's unfortunate condition was enough for one police station. Really, was this fate's twisted way of paying him back for past mistakes?
He found himself once again lost in thoughts and memories of the past, until Blake walked through the door with a steaming bowl.
Jean must've known what that was for, because she already had prepared some fresh stripes of linen on a table.
Blake's face was calm and composed. Behind him, Lawson peeked into the room. Charlie wished his boss would leave. He really didn't know what was in store for him, but he knew he didn't want Lawson to witness his possible weakness. He would have preferred for Jean to leave as well, but knew he couldn't ask that without offending her. So he bit down his protests about the too large company and decided to focus on the one man that currently posed the biggest threat to his own composure.
"What's that for?" he asked as he saw Blake soak the linens in the steaming water.
"Warm compress. It helps to open the wound and pull the infection to the surface. It shouldn't be painful, don't worry."
Charlie swallowed. Somehow he doubted the statement. Also who would want to open the wound? He'd prefer for it to stay closed, thank you very much. But he had no time to protest. Blake had once again started moving him this way and that, trying to find the best position to access the bite. Finally, Charlie had ended up lying flat on his right side, right leg bent at the knee so that the left could rest on some towels. The position wasn't exactly comfortable, but it partially allowed Charlie some privacy. This way, the only one able to see his face was currently Jean, who for some reason settled on a stool on the opposite side of Blake. She decided to be Charlie's emotional support it seemed.
"Alright Charlie. This might feel a bit too warm but it shouldn't be burning. Let me know if it's too much, okay?"
Charlie gave a half-hearted nod, then hissed as he felt the cloth touch the sensitive skin. He clenched his eyes shut and fought the instinct to just shake the cloth off. He could do this, all he needed was to give himself some time to adjust.
He felt Jean squeeze his hand and he returned the grip, thankful for the distraction.
"Is it alright Charlie?" Blake asked after few moments and Charlie gave another nod. The warmth was seeping through and it was far from comfortable, but the initial pain was dulled. Much like when you put your hand under a cold water faucet and it got numb.
"How long?" Charlie asked finally when he was sure his voice won't be too shaky.
"About twenty minutes. Rest up if you can," Blake said and Charlie's brow furrowed at the odd note. It seemed like what was coming after would be worse if Blake was giving him such advice. He didn't like that at all but there was hardly anything he could do about it sans leaving. He was pretty sure though that in his current state even Jean could overpower him. Somehow during the last few hours of the car drive all the energy was drained out of him, leaving him feeling like a victim of the plague.
His gloomy thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. Charlie jerked, startled. He looked up, wondering who would be calling at such a time. Though... what time was it anyway? All he knew was that it was already dark outside. Or was it early morning?
While Charlie mused how strangely time passed when one kept nodding out, someone had already picked up the phone. He could hear Lawson's voice from the next room. His tone was tight at first but then appeared to be soothing. Charlie blinked. Soothing Lawson? That just didn't get together.
When the man in question entered the room, Charlie made the effort to turn his head to get a proper look, despite the pull of stitches on his side.
"That was your mother," Lawson said to Charlie, with a thoughtful look on his face.
Charlie felt his heart skip a beat. His mother had no reason to call, not unless something happened.
"What's wrong?" he asked, fully turning and ready to get up. Blake cursed, grabbing the cloth on his leg, while Jean grabbed his shoulder to stop him from keeling over. The room had spun and Charlie felt as if the bed had dipped under him, giving his stomach that nice rollercoaster feel. He swallowed and went still.
"Lie back down you fool," Lawson barked even before Blake could tell him how a stupid idea this was. "Your mother is fine."
"Brothers?" Charlie hissed through gritted teeth as he settled back down on the bed, trying to ignore Blake's grumbling about screwing up his work.
"Everyone is fine. Well, except for you obviously," Lawson said with a pointed look. "Which is exactly why she called."
"She knows I'm here?" Charlie asked, confused. He didn't call her for ages, how would she know he arrived home?
"No, not yet. But.. she did get a call from O'Leary. He seemed to be rather adamant she inform him as soon as she hears from you. Of course, the fool didn't tell her why, so she was a bit worried."
"O'Leary?" Charlie repeated the name. Why the hell would the man call his mother? And what would he do if he didn't hear from Charlie soon? Would he go as far as to pay a visit to his family? Charlie shuddered at the thought. Even if O'Leary wouldn't try to threaten his way around, his presence would surely send his mother into panic.
Charlie was making himself anxious. Fortunately, there was Jean, always the voice of reason. She put her palm on his arm in support as well as to keep him settled, then turned to Lawson with a bit of glare.
"And I am sure you reassured her that Charlie was fine?"
Lawson grimaced.
"I told her not to worry, that he's most likely fine. But I could hardly tell her he was home now, could I? Not unless I know what in God's name is even going on." This time he aimed his words at Blake. Charlie it seemed was for the moment excused from his duties.
However, it was hardly Blake's story to tell and Charlie bristled at the fact he was being overlooked. Especially if his family was being dragged into it.
Once again, he attempted to sit up, with one goal in mind.
"I need to call him. So he stops bothering mum," he uttered through a groan. He was now sitting up but his body was protesting loudly. The room turned dark around the edges.
"Bloody hell Charlie, stop being such a stubborn fool," Blake admonished him and Charlie let the hands lead him to lie back down on the bed. This time he was turned on his other side though, so he at least had a view of the rest of the room and Lawson. The man was leaning against Blake's desk, arms crossed and a frown marring his face. Charlie knew that he would be in for a good tongue lashing if he didn't look so pitiful.
As it was, Lawson waited for Blake to settle him down. Charlie let the doctor change the cloth for another hot one, while he took a moment to set his thoughts right. It was getting harder and harder he noted.
"Look, I don't need the whole story right now," Lawson spoke up after a minute, "but I do need to know the basics. You are in no state to take care of anything Charlie, so I need to know what's going on to handle the situation. At least for the moment."
Charlie knew that. He saw Jean also giving him a curious look, while Blake shrugged, as if to say 'up to you'.
"As long as you stay still and let me work," Blake said tightly. He was clearly exhausted by a whole day's driving and the last thing he needed was for Charlie to sabotage all that he was doing to help him.
"Sorry," Charlie muttered.
"I want to know who you wanted to call just now and what were you planning on telling them. Then I need to know what happened to land you in this state... and whether it was legal or not," Lawson added heavily.
Charlie blinked. Was his Boss thinking he was doing something illegal? And if so... why was he still covering for him?
Charlie's surprise must've been clear on his face because Lawson looked like he wanted to slap him silly. As it was he just sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, obviously warding off a headache. Charlie could commiserate with that. His own head was feeling ready to start its own rock band, despite whatever drugs the doc put into the IV.
"Charlie? What happened?" Jean asked gently, seeing that Charlie was once again losing focus.
Charlie sighed... then told them. Not everything and far from a detailed report, but enough that they knew the most basic things. All else he was sure Blake would explain later, well all that he knew from Charlie's previous recounting.
Jean looked horrified at the events. Twice her hand squeezed his arm so hard he was sure there would be new bruises, but Charlie supposed he deserved that for scaring her.
Lawson on the other hand... Charlie didn't know what to think. The man hadn't spoken other than to ask one or two clarifying questions. He didn't rant, he didn't call him a bloody idiot. He seemed calm and composed... and it scared Charlie more than if he was in his face screaming and spitting fire.
"Boss?" he asked, somehow timidly as he finished his shortened recount.
"I'd like Johnsons' number now," Lawson said neutrally. He was already looking for a pen and notepad on Blake's desk.
Charlie rattled of the number from head, before he realised what that meant.
"Uh boss? You... won't call him, right?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer. The look Lawson gave him made that clear enough.
"No, I just like random phone numbers. Of course I'm going to call that fool!" Lawson barked and although Charlie winced at the words, he was glad Lawson's seeming calmness had broken. The man was much easier to deal with when he reacted as expected.
"Matthew, there's no need to cuss," Jean said, trying to calm down the tension.
Lawson pointedly ignored her while Charlie started to worry about the repercussions.
"Boss, he doesn't know my real name. Or where I'm from. I... I trust Johnson, but..."
"Not the people he's working with?" Blake finished, earning a grateful look from Charlie.
"I surmised as much, Davis. Do you really think I was about to announce your address to some idiot, who couldn't even make sure you got proper medical treatment?"
"That's not-" his fault, Charlie wanted to say, but Lawson's glare cut him off.
"Leave that one to me, Charlie. I'll talk to O'Leary as well. Now that I know what's the problem... I'll make sure he gives you a few days of rest. And that he won't bother your family," Lawson added with a roll of his eyes when Charlie opened his mouth.
"Thanks Boss," Charlie said and whatever Lawson wanted to say next, he changed his mind. All he did was nod and clear his throat, suddenly looking as if he wanted to be anywhere but in the room. Charlie didn't blame him for it. If he could, he would've preferred to be somewhere else too.
"Alright then. I shall go and... make a few phone calls. Try not to give Blake too much trouble Davis, will you?"
"Yes Boss," Charlie answered with a half smile, watching longingly as Lawson left the room. The smile quickly slipped from his face though. A shiver ran through his body and he realized he was shaking slightly.
Jean must've noticed. She run a hand over his face, tutting.
"He feels warmer," she noted to Blake. "Do you want to cool him down a bit?"
Blake also checked and Charlie grunted, trying to pull away. He really didn't need both of them to fret over him.
"It's cold enough a-already," he said as another shiver ran through him. Blake and Jean exchanged a look and Jean pulled out a blanket from the cabinet. Charlie wanted to burrow in it full, unfortunately Blake still needed access to his leg. He was still thankful when Jean wrapped it around his torso.
He was even more thankful for the blanket when Blake finally decided to start cleaning up the dog bite. Somehow, the injections with the local anaesthetic managed to hurt more than in his stomach. Charlie pulled the blanket up, hiding half his face under it. Despite the numbing effect, the cleaning bloody hurt. Whatever the doc was doing went deeper or at least it felt so. Charlie had to bite down on his tongue several times and the edge of the blanket was tightly gripped in his clutched fist.
"It's alright, you're doing great Charlie," Blake kept saying. Charlie wanted to believe him. He could feel Jean next to him, her hand caressing his forehead, cradling through his hair. He tried to focus on that for a while. On the tender touch, her soft words about everything and nothing. He caught something about the latest gossip of the town, a ridiculous story about a neighbour almost shooting his wife, mistaking her for some bin chickens. Charlie would have laughed, if Blake wasn't trying to kill him.
Charlie's fingers curled up, fingernails digging into the blanket almost as mercilessly as Blake's fingers were digging into the wound. Or at least that's what it felt like.
"Just a moment, Charlie. It's almost done," Blake muttered.
Charlie wondered how long a moment could last.
"That's it. All done, Charlie," Blake said and Charlie opened his eyes to see the look of relief on the man's face. It seemed like he was as happy about the job done as Charlie himself. "You did great," Blake added giving Charlie's arm a light tap.
Finally, it was over. At that point Charlie wasn't sure whether he was shaking from the fever or the discomfort of it all. Blake had wrapped up his leg and Charlie was free to move around. He wanted to go up to his room, but even turning on the bed seemed like too much of a feat. He groaned in frustration.
"What's the matter?" Blake asked worriedly while pulling the rest of the blanket to cover Charlie's legs too.
"My room," Charlie muttered, his eyes already drooping.
"Ah," Blake grimaced. "I'm afraid that's out of the question right now. I'd like to keep you here for the night... or at least until that drip runs out. Then we will move you to Matthew's room."
Charlie frowned in disagreement.
"Why not my room?"
"I hardly think going up those stairs would be smart right now. Don't worry about it though. I'm sure you'll be back to your own bed quick enough. Now... why don't you try to sleep?"
Charlie thought that was actually a great idea. After the horrible day or two, even the uncomfortable exam bed felt like heaven. As long as he was safe and surrounded by people that had his back, he could've slept on the floor.