For PersianArrow, IsaboeOfLumatere, and uconnhuskiesfan2001
To all, I'm sorry this chapter has been so late. I couldn't find the way, so to speak. Then I was making real head way and someone unplugged my laptop, and I got up to hours of work being a blank document. (I have since replaced my battery!) Many, many, many thanks to PersianArrow who reminded me how to recover some of the lost work, so all was not lost. But enough editing is enough. I hope you enjoy! And Happy Holidays all!
#####OQ#####
Mae stuck her head in the waiting room. "Oliver, could I have a word with you?"
He gave Felicity a hard look, and she waved him away with her hand, "Go on, Oliver. I'll be fine. I'm sure these nice young men and I can visit for a few minutes without you. It'll be all right."
Looking hard in her eyes, he gave a sharp nod before he added, "If you're sure. But these nice young men better mind their manners." He turned and eyed each of them before he stated, "I won't tolerate any disrespect toward my woman. Just look at me, each and every one of you. You disrespect my woman, for that fact, any woman, and I'll show you just how far I can run, and you'll be taking every step beside me. Do we have an understanding?"
Felicity, herself, almost winced from his hard look and his dark tone that brooked no disagreement, she understood that look that said he wasn't going to tolerate any disrespect, and he would run them into the ground if they tried anything.
"Yes, Coach," said several of them, while the others just nodded in agreement. Then she watched him give each of them a hard look before he turned and walked out the door, shutting the door solidly behind him.
Felicity smiled at each of the young men and some of them smiled back, others' well not so much. Oliver's warning seemed to be still hanging in the air, souring the mood. Well, she would just have to do something about that.
Turning to the first teen, she thrust out her small hand and smiled at a red head, who was short and stocky, and wore thick glasses and then said, "Well that was intense, and your name is?"
The smile he returned was small, as he said, "Coach seems to be like that, intense I mean, but I guess you would know that about him, Ma'am, since you're going to marry him. And, I'm Nick Mitchell. It's nice to meet you."
Gripping her hand carefully, he gave her a small genuine smile that warmed her before he released her hand.
"Yes, you could say that Oliver, I mean Coach is a little extreme, forceful. Okay he's very extreme at times. But please, don't call me, ma'am. It makes me feel old and strange." She made a weird face at him before she said, "And oh, yes, Nick, I've seen you around. Don't you work at Bill's Grocery store, along with your grandmother? I think I've seen you there."
Yes, she and Oliver had cased the place doing recon, if you could call going to a grocery store repeatedly casing the place. But they had because Oliver had insisted, so she knew Nick worked there, just like she knew he was a kid who was working to help his grandmother and that most of his money was going toward the household and helping support his three younger sisters.
"Yes, ma'am. I sack groceries and push carts and Grandma cashiers."
"Push carts? And again don't call me Ma'am. You're making me feel ancient by calling me Ma'am. No, call me Felicity instead."
The young red head shook his head. "No, Ma'am, I mean I don't think Coach would like it, and he might think I'm being disrespectful and he likes to run way more than I do."
"He likes to run way more than I do too, but alright, I see your point. Felicity might be a bit too casual for Coach. How about Ms. Smoak? No, maybe not that either. You young men are making me feel so old. And I'm too young to be old. But you need to call me something, for I have a feeling we will see each other again at games and such."
She shook her head and frowned.
"How about Ms. Felicity?" Nick said, with a real grin and several of the others nodded.
"Works for me. Now what was that about pushing carts?"
"Have you never been to a grocery store? Pushing carts means that you go and round up the grocery carts and push them back into the store. Mindless job," said another slightly chunky young man.
"Of course, she's been to a grocery store. Don't be rude, and since your dissing my job, where do you work Marcus?"
She smiled as Nick glared hard at the 5'2 brown headed young man named Marcus and was proud that he had defended her. Maybe, these teens weren't all bad, no matter what their files looked like. But she could also feel the immediate dislike that simmered between the two of teens.
Note to self, tell Oliver these Marcus and Nick were not friends, no, not friends at all if their body language meant anything, they were ready to rip each other apart.
In her head, she ticked him off her little juvenile delinquent list, as she realized that this was Marcus Wright. This young man was in trouble for repeated truancy, resisting arrest, and repeated possession of tobacco on school grounds, and as he stepped closer, she wrinkled her nose a little bit, thinking Marcus hadn't learned a thing since he smelled like stale cigarettes. She'd bet he didn't want to run either.
"At home." His tone was not apologetic, no it was defensive. "It's called babysitting my two little brothers, so Dad can work nights and the power gets to stays on. We don't have a check from my sick grandfather like you do."
"I'd shut my mouth about my sick grandfather if I were you, but we could talk about your dead-beat mom." Nick took a step toward Marcus, his stance clearly threatening.
"Easy, Nick, no since in being ugly. And Marcus, he's right shut your mouth about his grandfather. We all know he's got cancer." A dark head, six foot, lean young man stood and gave both of them a look that said clearly they'd better not start anything in front of her.
"Stay out of it, Tyler." Marcus gave a wave of his hand, clearly dismissing the teen. "And Nick, I wasn't dissing your dying grandfather, I'm just saying you know I can't get a job. Jees, both of you give me a break. Nick, who's watching your sisters tonight?"
"Grandpa, but just shut up Marcus, Ms. Felicity doesn't care."
"Sure I do. And Nick, I've heard your grandfather is sick, that's terrible and it's hard on families when people are sick and everyone has to help out."
Nick just looked at the floor, and she broke the silence with the words. "Coach and I understand that each of you has real responsibilities, that some of you have things you have to do every day other than school."
"Yeah, and now we have to go to court ordered soccer practice on top of everything else, when I have better things to do." A blonde young man's bitter words snapped out into the air.
"And you are?" She turned toward a blonde solid young man that she had to look up at and extended her hand.
"Adrian Herron. And for your info, soccer practice has gotten my hours at the superstore cut to almost nothing." His voice was dark and not only did he ignore her extended hand, he took a small step back away from her.
Okay, she thought this one was Oliver's Michael trigger, and this teen wasn't friendly, no, not friendly in the least.
But she still said in a cheerful voice, "Well, that sucks, but it's nice to meet you, Adrian." Dropping her hand, she went on to say, "Though you need to give soccer and your coach a chance. You might find out that like playing soccer and the game might turn out to be fun."
Yet, he just shrugged, crossed his arms in front of his broad chest before he barked the words, "Haven't seen much fun so far. Just kicking the ball and running constantly. Where's the fun in that?"
"It's called being healthy and if you'd stop smoking, the running isn't that bad and you might even enjoy it." Tyler gave him a grin and got a grimace in return.
With the words, "I doubt it."
"Well, look on the bright side, Adrian, the next time you run from the cops you might just get away." A large young man, who was playing on his phone, said from the back of the room.
"Fu," The young man caught himself then said, "Screw you, Alonzo and you too, Tyler."
"No, thanks, I'm screwed enough already." Tyler said with a small sigh.
Silence answered him.
It was like everyone in the room knew he was right. As the silence became uncomfortable, she broke the quiet with the words, "Okay, moving on. I think all of you should know that Coach Queen understands that all of you have your own issues, that each of you have your own responsibilities, but right now playing soccer is one of your responsibilities."
"Speaking of responsibilities," Nick checked his watch. "I wish they'd hurry up and tell us something about Phil. I'm going to have to roll pretty soon. Dad has to go to work and he'll be piss. . . err, mad if I'm late."
"Got brats to watch, poor, Nick. Feel for you but I can't quite reach you. But, I can text you later if you want."
"Of course, you feel for me. Thanks, Alonzo." The words were said with a roll of his eyes and with no anger. Surprised, she realized that there was no anger. No, she could tell these two were friends of long standing.
"And you are?" She turned toward the very large, dark haired, young man. A young man, who looked full grown weighing in at about 230, but she knew he wasn't. He was a teen trapped in a youth's body.
"Alonzo Garcia, Ma'am, I mean Ms. Felicity." He gave her a slight nod of his dark head.
"Nice to meet you. So, no brats for you to watch?"
Even though she knew already that he did. Yes, he had brats to watch.
But the smile she gave him was genuine, as he carefully took her small hand in his very large hand, and she noted that he was so careful not to crush her tiny hand in his massive one. He was so gentle he surprised her, as she remembered that his arrest had gotten ugly, and he had gotten a disorderly conduct and a resisting arrest. And it made her wonder what had set this seemly gentle giant off.
"Oh, yeah, got three brats. Dad drives a truck right now, so we don't see him much. Grandma cuts hair, so, yeah, sometimes, I have to keep an eye on my little sister and my twin brothers."
"You have twin brothers? I bet they're a real handful."
"Yeah, they are but Grandma's tough as nails. She keeps them in line."
"Didn't stop you from getting in trouble. What'd Grandma say about your DWI?" said, a young man with a bright red shirt and almost purple hair.
"A lot but she still got the public pretender to get the precursor to bust my charge down to public drunk. What about you, Dean? Anyone stand up for you after you got caught on camera keying the principal's car?"
"Shut your mouth, you know I got a bad rap. I was just standing up for Naomi when I got in trouble."
"Public pretender? You keyed the principal's car?" She asked with wonder in her voice since that small fact had been left out of the Dean's file. Plus, these kids seemed to have their own language, and she was struggling to keep up.
"Oh, yeah, dummy didn't realize that was a camera in the school's parking lot."
"You've got room to talk, Markus. How did trying to rob the pizza place work out for you? You're just lucky you're still a minor." Both Dean and Markus were leaning in and she could feel the tension, the anger, radiating off of both of them.
Tyler gave both of the two a hard look, a clear warning, as he stood and stepped between the two of them. Then he said, "Ms. Felicity a public pretender is what we call the public defenders that we all used in the court system."
"You know the free lawyer that pretends to represent us so the court system can push our cases though," said a tall young dark headed young man.
Who then held out his hand and gave her a firm handshake, before he released her hand as he said as he pointed toward himself, "I'm David Lopes, and I'm a perfect example of how well the court system works. I've been on probation for three years. I still have one more year probation to serve. I'm a repeat offender, possession of a controlled substance, possession with the intent to deliver, and I'm really on double probation."
"And it sounds like you're proud of it. Are you hunting triple probation still you're still dealing pot?" She looked over her glasses at him while she thought that these kids weren't kids.
Several of them laughed, and she realized that once again she had said something out loud that maybe she shouldn't have and maybe, she wasn't the only one that knew he was still dealing pot.
"No, I just. Oh, never mind. It doesn't matter anyway."
"She so busted you, David." Alonzo clapped his hands and said, "That was awesome, Ms. Felicity. David always thinks he knows more than everyone else and most of the time he's high."
"Maybe, we could just forget I talked and no body better tell Coach."
"Don't hold anything back there, David. Maybe you could offer to sell her some pot?"
"Shut up, Marcus."
"Don't worry I won't."
"Well if you did it would be the first time in our lives. And you need to text your younger brother and tell him to stop tormenting my step sisters. I'm getting tired of it."
"I've told you to just send him home or text me."
Surprised, she could see that these two were friends, and just when she had thought Marcus didn't like anyone. But then they were both seventeen, probably had known each other for years. It also probably helped that both of them were carrying the weight of their families on their shoulders for neither had a mother.
"So, Marcus I guess you keep them in line." She asked.
"I do. Someone has to raise them."
And she watched as several of them nodded.
Turning, she then grasped the hand of Tyler Rounds and she ask, "How's your girlfriend Mindy?"
She noted that he didn't seem surprised by her personal question for this was small town so everyone knew. No, he just answered. "She's doing well. Thanks for asking."
"Is the baby a boy or girl?"
"A boy," he said with an awed voice that didn't speak of the violence she knew that Tyler was capable of. Yes, Tyler was an angry teenager and a repeat offender fighter. He had been in so many fights that the school had finally turned him over to the court systems. Yes, this kid was so angry and enraged, just like Oliver, and she could almost see the anger rolling off of him.
But Oliver thought that Tyler loved Mindy so her voice softened as she ask, "Is the baby due soon?"
"Yeah, he's due two weeks from now." He said the words like the event was his impending doom, and she suddenly didn't know what to say about the baby so she said, "Well, Tyler, I just want you to know that I've had your pizza and you have a future cooking, something your coach also excels in by the way."
"Coach cooks? Really?" And she could hear the awe in Tyler's voice.
"Really." she said dryly as she then said, "Yes, your coach believes that guys should know how to cook, should know how to take care of themselves, though I personally don't excel in the kitchen."
"Neither does my mom." A dark head thin young teen stepped forward and put out his hand before he said, "Hi, I'm Russell Collins."
It was cute the way he dipped his dark head as he released her hand. She smiled, gave him a really nice smile as she said, "I think I've met your mother. Doesn't she work here at the hospital?"
"Yeah, she works housekeeping and has been here over two years now."
"That's wonderful." But she was thinking that meant his mom changed jobs frequently.
"And don't you have a little brother and sister?"
He gave her a very nice grin back, before he said, "Yeah, my little sister just won student of the month, and my brother just won first place in the science fair."
"They're the smart ones in the family, huh, Russell?"
Russell turned and said darkly, "Screw you, Adrian. At least I didn't get busted at a party for public drunk, disorderly conduct, fleeing and assaulting a police officer. Talk about someone using their brains."
Alonzo stood now and she could feel the room charging with anger.
Adrian's eyes narrowed at Russell before he said, "No, unlike you I was at least drunk when I got in trouble, what's your excuse? You who was just stupid and sober when you got in drunk Justin's car after curfew, and let's not forget that joint you had in your pocket."
Tyler and Alonzo moved before either of the young men could move, each stepping between one of the young men. "Stop it you two, both of you are just as busted as the rest of us. And you heard coach's warning. Now tell the lady you're sorry."
"That's not necessary." She gave a wave of her hands, dismissing the matter but her head snapped up as she heard what could only be Oliver's sharp voice in the hall.
The words, "I understand he's your son but that doesn't change the fact he drinks," had her up and moving and out the door before she had time to think.
A very large man was waving a finger in Oliver's face with the words, "This is none of your business. So I suggest you just back off if you know what's good for you."
"You're wrong that this is none of my business, Mr. Rice, Phil a member of my team, and he seems to be in a lot of pain, not physical pain but emotional pain and it's time you took note of it."
"Oh, frack." She said out loud as she took in the large man that was Phil Rice's dad, his very angry dad, who's voice was rising.
"Look, he's in court ordered counseling. What good has that done? Where is he today? What more do you want me to do? I can't make him stop drinking."
"Yes, you can. You can get behind me and support the fact that I'm going to have him sent to rehab if he doesn't stop drinking."
"That's not happening. Phil's not going to rehab. It would mess up this year at school. And the last thing I need is him repeating a year of school."
"Would you rather he dies? That's really mess his school year up if he dies."
"He's not going to die."
"He could have died today."
"I don't believe that."
"Believe it. And since you're his father and you're all he's got left he needs your support here."
"I have supported him. I go out on that damn boat almost every day. I pay the bills. He needs to do his part. I'm tired of coddling the boy."
"That's not the type of support he needs. Have you tried talking to him?" Oliver's voice was intense.
"Phil doesn't talk. And I'm betting he's just putting on a show here, trying to get attention."
"Believe me that seizure he had in my arms wasn't fake. And you need to face the fact that your son drinks every day, and he's trying to stop. What he needs is your support here."
"You know nothing about Phil. You've spent what a week with him, a couple hours a day? You don't know my kid. He's looking for attention here. Ever since his mom died all he does is get in trouble and cause me grief. He needs to man up."
"Man up? Look, Mr. Rice you need to understand that Phil drinks so much his body is in withdraw. And he's getting his booze from you. You're the one that needs to man up here. You need to help Phil stop drinking, and I mean by locking your booze up, I mean by being his father and making sure he can't drink your alcohol."
She noted that the teenagers were now standing behind her drinking it all in.
"Screw you, Queen. Who are you to judge me? You've no right to put your nose in my business."
"I'm his soccer coach and he's court ordered to play, so that gives me every right."
"You're a fine one to talk to me about not drinking." He gave a small laugh before he said, "And just how the hell did you get to be a soccer coach anyway? Pay your way in, rich boy?"
The man's tone was clearly disrespectful, and Felicity groaned knowing from Oliver's body language he was losing his patience with the man.
"Judge Warren Franks appointed me. And I'm far from a boy."
The man snorted then said, "Then as usual that stupid judge doesn't know what he's doing and is causing me grief. You really don't remember me do you?"
"No, should I?" Oliver's look was suddenly warily, and she wished she could warn him but it was too late.
"Yeah, you should remember me since the last I saw you, I was stuffing your drunk ass into your rich sporty car. I was helping your really stupid girlfriend, the one I took pity on, before she got herself, let's just say, taken advantage of, for walking in a bar looking for you, dressed like a hooker. So don't play high and mighty with me since I've seen you drunk too."
Oliver moved but she was faster, as she stepped between them, placing her hand on Oliver's chest, stopping him cold.
"I'd watch my mouth if I was you for I'm tougher than I look."
"Move, Felicity. I'll handle this."
"No, Coach you won't, and let me tell you Mr. Rice, he was in the fourth bar, not the first and no one took advantage of me. And just because every woman in this town shops at the super store doesn't mean I have to dress like that. I also have a degree from MIT. But since you couldn't possibility know that I'll let your insult to my intelligence pass."
Oliver was almost growling now but she went on. "And from what I remember, I gave you his almost full bottle of whiskey to help stuff his drunk ass in his rich sporty car. And since all of this happened in a bar, and I didn't see you pour it out, I would assume you DRANK it. So," she drew the word out, "I suggest both of you stop spending time throwing rocks at your glass houses and start thinking about Phil."
Snickers erupted from the teens behind her but she ignored the teenagers and held her hand out. Instantly, as he leaned in, she caught the scent of cigarettes and the gulf's salty smell that clung to him, but she smiled as she said softly, "And I was very thankful for your help that day, since it was hardly one of his more stellar moments, and I'm sure that you're just worried about your son right now, which is clouding your judgment. But what we all need to think about right now is what's best for Phil. Remember, Phil is the reason all of us are here. Phil's sick, and we need to remember that."
Phil's dad was a huge muscular man, with arms that rivaled Oliver's, and who's face spoke of the years of working outside on a shrimp boat. It was a face that was rugged and weathered with a sun kissed tan that already had frown lines around his mouth. And he still wasn't smiling when he reluctantly took her tiny hand in his own large strong and callused one and gave her hand a tiny shake before releasing her.
Oliver side stepped her and also put out his hand. "No, you're right, Felicity, we need to think about what's best for Phil. Mr Rice, I apologize for blind siding you the way I did. It was wrong. And I admit freely that night was one of my really foolish moments, but I do want to thank you for helping us that night."
Oliver extended his hand and the man looked him hard up and down before grudgingly taking his hand and giving him a nod and a dark look.
Mae chose this second to join the group holding a chart in her hand. "Eli, good to see you. Do you want to go to a conference room, or can I tell you in front of everyone, for if you look behind you it seems Phil's friends are eager to know how Phil is too."
Eli snapped his head around, and she realized he was turning red, and she was sure he hadn't really known they had an audience.
Waving his hand, he said, "Oh, go ahead, everyone will know he's in here by tomorrow morning anyway. My phone has been blowing up all ready. At least this time the gossips can start with somewhat of the truth."
"That's the beauty of small town, Eli. If they don't know the truth, then they make it up."
And the man frowned. "Go on Mae."
"Phil's pretty sick right now and seems to be in full alcohol withdraw. But we have him stable, and I'm keeping him sedated right now because that makes it easier on him. I've ordered blood tests to measure his complete blood count, and his alcohol and electrolyte levels. Also checking on his liver function to see if there's any damage, and of course, an urine screen to identify drug use."
She saw Marcus elbow David, and thought well Phil was totally flunking the drug test, and David was supplying him.
"Well, he's probably flunking the drug test. He did last month. I just glad it's just pot." Eli frowned hard as he said the words.
"Well it could be worse drugs," Felicity saw Mae eye the teens before she said, "And the good news is that since he was at soccer practice when the seizure hit, he got prompt medical attention. He could have died if he would have been alone somewhere. But the really good news is that after we get him detoxed he should make a complete recovery."
She watched as the Phil's father visibly deflated before he ask, "Can I see him?"
"You can. And it's wonderful that all of you have come to see Phil but the rest of you need to go on home. Phil's asleep right now, and I'm sorry but I'm limiting his visitors. Come back tomorrow evening, and maybe I'll let you see him few at a time. Come on, Eli."
And she and Eli Rice walked away leaving them standing there in the hall.
"Night, coach," said, several of his team.
"See you at practice tomorrow," said Alonzo with a wave.
She reached for Oliver's hand and he pulled her close for a quick hug before she ask, "What did Mae want?"
"She wanted to take my blood pressure."
"How was it?"
He sighed before he said, "She upped my dose again and said she's see me Monday in the office."
"Still no?"
"Yeah, still no."
"Oh frack."
"Exactly, come on I'll take you home and cook you dinner."
"Okay, if food is all I get then I can wait. For you I can wait."
And he gave her that goofy grin as he held her hand and they headed down the hall as she said, "Wait till I tell you about your team."
#####OQ#####
"Did you take your pills?" Felicity ask him as she settled beside him in the bed.
"Yeah." He breathed in her scent, and wished he could do more than lay here but he was so darn tired that it was all he could do to keep his eyes open. The higher dose of medication was making him feel like his limbs were made of lead. Sleep was threatening, and he was struggling to stay awake for he didn't want to sleep, he didn't want to dream, but he was losing the good fight.
"Nite, Oliver." And the last thing he remembered was the feel of her lips on his forehead.
#####OQ#####
"Step away from the door, Oliver. We're coming in."
"Okay, give me a second." He had been practicing jumping, over and over. With a foot, he kicked the board up and caught it and dropped it to the floor beside the wall. Slinging one chair against the wall, he turned the other chair then managed to sit down, straddling the chair, as his solid metal door opened with a creak then slammed hard against the wall.
Ivan entered carefully, lighting his taser, as a warning no doubt for he knew Ivan hadn't forgiven or forgotten that he had broken his nose that first day when he had come close to killing Hedeon. And he'd also given Ivan grief, for he had managed one time to escape his room.
Luke entered carefully behind Ivan welding his taser. And he knew Ivan hadn't forgotten that one day the guards that had come for him and they hadn't been so careful and for a very short time he had escaped, and since Ivan was head of security here, he was sure Hedeon had shown him his displeasure at the breach.
Swallowing hard, he drew in a ragged breath, thinking that they were coming for him, thinking that he had a fight, and he could feel his chest tighten for he wasn't ready yet. No, he needed more time, just a little more time, a little more practice. But then he heard the scraping sound of boots on the concrete and couldn't control the breath of relief that rushed out of him, as two men followed dragging a bloody, clearly unconscious man between them.
"I see Hedeon has a new toy." His tone was as dark as his mood as he spat the words.
"Smart ass. Just be glad it's not you." Luke lit his taser.
Raising his chin, he schooled his face of emotion as he glared at Luke and Ivan with pure hate, as he push down the almost painful instant relief that Luke and Ivan weren't here to taser him, chain him and drag him away, and he wasn't going under Hedeon's knife today.
No, the other man was the new toy now and the thought that he was glad it wasn't him put an ache in his heart that hurt so badly that he coldly shut his emotions off, called for the ice in his gut, as he forced himself to suppress the relief and the rage that was rising in him.
The two men drug the lifeless bare chested bleeding man across the room and dumped him like so much litter on the cot that he didn't have ripped apart.
"He's all yours, Oliver. Hedeon said if he dies it's on you." Ivan had a small smile on his face and it sickened him.
They were turning to leave, to leave the man with him.
"Wait. What do you expect me to do with him?"
"Stitch him up, keep him alive." Ivan replied in a gruff voice.
"I'm not Mike." He stood and then shook his head hard. No, he wasn't going to do this.
"Want a bet? Maybe, I even start calling you Mike. I've seen your chest, you're starting to look like him."
He swallowed hard, and then glaring he said menacingly, "I wouldn't call me that if I were you."
Ivan frowned, then pointed a finger as he said, "I'll call you whatever I want. And you better watch your tone."
"Then don't call me Mike. I'm not going to be Mike."
"You're already Mike, only you're not going to live as long as he did. Mike had more sense than you do. Mike had respect."
"Mike didn't respect you. He just put up a front because he couldn't fight but I can. Why don't you put that taser down and you and me, we'll go a round." He waved him towards him, motioning him toward him, wishing Ivan would give him just half a chance to kill him.
Ivan shook his head with the words, "I don't think so. Hedeon wouldn't approve of me damaging you."
He barked a laugh, before he replied, "And we wouldn't want to do anything that Hedeon wouldn't approve of. Would we?"
"You and that mouth. I swear. No, as much as I'd like to kick your ass, you need to save your fighting for the ring. And for now, you better figure out how to keep this one alive. And, remember, Hedeon likes small stitches."
He held his thumb and finger almost together as if demonstrating the size of the stitch.
"If he wants tiny stitches then he can put them in."
"It doesn't work like and you know it. And, Oliver, don't stitch his back."
"Right, I wouldn't want to mess up his H mark with stitches. You know you're just as much a monster as Hedeon. Admit it, Ivan. You get off on the blood and the pain too."
A tic developed in the man's face before he said darkly, "Oliver, just what are you doing in here? Why's the bed torn up?"
"I'm just training."
"Training? Why don't I believe you?" He narrowed his eyes at him and he frowned.
"I don't care if you believe me, it's all the answer you're getting."
I haven't forgotten that you broke my nose or that you managed to escape. Not that it did you any good, though I'm beginning to think you like the cage. So, Oliver, you mark my words, if you just keep pushing, I'll taser you just for the fun of it."
Ivan lit the taser, and Oliver took a step back, putting more space between them. He might be defiant but he wasn't stupid.
No, he knew to respect the taser's bite. But that didn't stop his words.
"And, Ivan, you mark my words. I'm going to kill you someday. So go head. What can you do to me? Taser me? Cut me? Go ahead. Wouldn't be my first time. Then you can stitch him up." He pointed to the fallen bleeding man.
"Just get to work, Oliver."
His tone was dark and hateful as he ask, "And why do you help him? What is he your brother?" He gave Ivan a hard look.
"He's the man who pays me well, very well. Now you better get to work. He's looking kind of gray to me."
"And you've seen enough of them die to know he's bleeding out, huh? But then you'll just find him another toy, right Ivan?"
"That's right, Oliver, there's a lot of men that can just disappear and no one will even miss them. Look at you for example."
Ivan's words hurt for no one was coming for him and he knew it. The only one that might be looking for him was Anatoly Knyazev but that was only if his message had made its way to the man.
"When I kill him I'm going to put you in hell with him."
Ivan laughed then replied, "Promises, promises. You just better keep him breathing."
"I'm not a doctor you know?"
"Mike wasn't either but he got better at it. So let me spell it out for you. Here's how it works around here, since Mike's dead that leaves you so like it or not, now you get to be Mike."
"I won't do it."
"Then don't but regardless, I'm done talking to you. Your choice here, you let him die and it'll be you back under the knife. Now if I was you I'd put that bed back together and stitch him up." Ivan then turned and, with Luke watching, holding his taser up, Ivan walked away.
And intense hatred assaulted him, as he watched Luke walk backward, not trusting him enough to turn his back on him as he said, "Make the right choice, Oliver. My stitching sucks and someone will have to stitch you back up." Then Luke slammed the door shut and he heard the lock slide home.
The dark haired man moaned, and he exhaled sharply, then walked over and inspected the man's bloody chest. Hedeon had done a number on him. He had cut him straight down the middle of his chest, exposing his rib cage and the man was clearly on his way to bleeding out. His skin was clammy, and he was cold and gray, both sure signs of blood loss.
"Can you hear me?" Giving the man a small shake, he ask, "Do you know your blood type?"
No answer. "Great." He said out loud as he went to find the things he needed.
He realized that he going to have to give the man a transfusion, going to have to give him his blood. Mike had taught him how to give a transfusion, how to hook up the tubing, how to find a vein, just has he had taught him how to harvest his own blood for a bleeding day, as he had joked.
It was a shame that he didn't know the man's type. He would have preferred to give his own type, to make one of the guards give up their blood and leave his stocked blood for him, but since he was O negative he could give anyone blood without knowing his type. Yes, this man was in luck that he had some blood stocked up but first he needed to stitch him up, since there was no sense in wasting his good blood.
Pushing the man over, he took in the large weeping H on his bloody left shoulder. Hedeon mark that told the world you were his property, his mark that kept anyone from helping you, that kept you from running. He knew for he had tried, had even made it out of the compound but then the men that had picked him up had restrained him, checked his shoulder and turned him back in for the reward. His escape had last all of about an hour, and all it had earned him was another time under the knife, more time in the cage, and the loss of his shoes. And Hedeon had threatened to cut the bottoms of his feet the next time if he tried to run again. And his small escape had also earned him total lock down time and chains every time they moved him and cold feet since he really missed his shoes.
Rising, on socked feet, he went to the cabinet that held the medical supplies and gathered the things he needed. Then he returned to the man.
The thin young man was groaning and thrashing around some, as he washed the large H with alcohol then bandaged his left shoulder.
Washing his hands in alcohol, he threaded a sterilized needle with a suture, then he took a deep breath and poured alcohol on the long cut and the man's eyes snapped open as he screamed. Barely, only because he had fast reflexes did he catch the man's hand that went straight for his throat.
"Easy," he said one hand on the man's wrist and the other holding the needle, "I'm trying to help you here."
"It doesn't feel like it. Where am I?"
"Hell. Now this is going to really hurt, but I have to close your chest up. You're bleeding out here. Do you know your blood type?"
"No. Where did the guy with the knife go?"
"Somewhere nice I'm sure but I'm all you have now. Now if you want to live you are going to have to let me stitch you up."
"Why are you helping me?"
He had to shut his eyes, for he knew he sounded like Mike when he said, "I don't have a choice. Just like you I'm trapped here. Look, I'm going to let your hand go, so I can show you something."
Carefully, he released the man's hand and with fingers that had a small tremor he lifted his shirt to show the man the long angry still healing scar on his abdomen.
"See my chest."
"He did that to you?"
"Yes, and on my shoulder. Just like you, only my H is on the right side. I have a tattoo on the left. Now if you want to live, you're going to let me stitch you up?"
"I don't suppose dying's an option?"
"If you die then he cuts me. Brace yourself." He hated the words coming out of his mouth, and he loathed having to sew the man's flesh. Oh, yes, he had stitched himself up on the boat but this was so different for never had he stitched another person's skin.
The thought that he was becoming Mike swallowed him whole, and he had to fight the hopelessness that was choking him. Intense darkness filled his mind as he realized his future was right here locked in a room with blood and gore. Heart pounding, he forced himself to weld the needle, to push the needle through the man's skin at the midpoint of the wound. Forcing himself, he drew the edges of the wound closely together and made his first stitch, as the man screamed.
Knotting the thread with a square knot, he then cut the thread. Mike had talked to him about stitches as he had held on and took the pain, as Mike had stitched his chest again and again. Carefully, he stitched like Mike had taught him. He made one stitch and tied the thread off before making the next stitch and tying the stitch off again. It took longer to stitch the wound like this but it was less painful on the man when Hedeon took the stitches out. And he knew from experience, for Ivan had stitch his chest one time and connected all the stitches, and he had experienced true agony the day that Hedeon had taken his stitches out.
His brain was working overtime returning to the time his stitches had been connected to each other. Hedeon's knife pulling on the entire wound not just one stitch. His breath was coming in short gasps for he knew Hedeon was going to take these stitches out too, that what he was doing here was pointless. But he continued to put in one stitch at a time knowing that Hedeon was going to take them out one by one and would get a thrill from the man's pain, from his submission so at least he could do this for the man. Yes, it wasn't much but he could do for this man, for this man who had no future.
He had put only five stitches in and the man was already sobbing and begging. "Please, don't you have pain killers?"
"Sorry, I know it hurts but I don't have any painkillers."
"Please, just stop, I can't stand it. You have to give me something for the pain." The man stilled his hand.
"Look, there isn't anything for the pain. Look around. Does this look like a hospital?"
"No, it looks like a dungeon."
"Good call. And I know it's really it's hard to believe but dungeons still exist. So, sorry no drugs here. You've just got to tough it out for there's only pain on the menu here."
"Could you just let me die?"
"This is ground we've already covered. You die he cuts me. It's a vicious circle here. The only thing I could do is knock you out but then your face will hurt too."
"Then just do it. God, just hit me. I can't stand this."
"You'd be surprised what you can stand. And if you're going to survive here you'd better toughen up. I'm sorry about this." He punched the man in his cheek, which caused the man's head to snap to the side and he was gone, blacked out.
Then he carefully stitched the unconscious man's chest, he stitched until his hands ached, but with each dark stitch he remembered how the sharp needle stung. Oh, yes, he remembered the wicked needle's sharp bite, the dragon breathing fire into his chest. As he stitched he remembered Mike, who had no more hope. He remembered Hedeon taking Mike's stitches out of his chest, painful by painful stitch. His breathing was becoming labored as he remembered Hedeon making him ask nicely to take that next stitch out, chained spread eagle to keep him from attacking, to keep him from ending his life, so Mike could put the stitches back in and the cycle would begin yet again.
But who would stitch him up the next time he went under the knife? Luke? Or heaven help him, Ivan?
Eyeing, the dark head young man, he gauged his age about twenty and realized he hadn't ask him his name. Stopping, in mid stitch he realized that like him the man's name no longer mattered, and in truth, he didn't want to know the man's name. And it was a numbing realization for he was becoming Mike.
His hand suddenly developed a small tremor, a small tic, as he forced himself to put the next stitch in the young man's chest, knowing that Hedeon was going to use his sharp blade to slowly rip the stitch from the man's chest. But that wasn't the hard part, not the hard part was that he realized that what he was doing was probably useless, a lesson in futility, that this man didn't have a chance if he couldn't stand the needle's pain he would never have a chance of surviving Hedeon's knife.
Standing, he looked down at his bloody hands, the copper metallic smell of blood assaulted his senses and the hopelessness of his situation was smothering him. With jerky movements, he washed his hands and then set up the transfusion, just as Mike had taught him knowing all the while he was helping a dead man.
With a jerk, breathing rapidly, gasping hard, he awoke into the dark, not just in the room but in his mind. Panting, sweating, he reached for the blood on his chest, reached for the painful stitches. He reached for now but he was having a hard time figuring out now, finding the present. Panic was winning, as he tried to slow his heart, his gasping breath.
Now, he could smell her scent and his heart began to slow. The bedroom and the sound of her breathing filled his mind. He wanted to pull her into his arms but Felicity was still sleeping, dead to the world and the last thing he wanted to do was wake her.
And he was so glad, so very glad she was not going to catch him, as he climbed slowly out of the their bed, climbed deliberately out of her bed before he woke her up. He stood so still, as her breathing leveled out, and he made sure she was still sleeping.
Please, Felicity, he thought, just keep sleeping.
Carefully, on silent bare feet, he moved soundlessly across the room. His heart remained pounding like a drum in his chest, and he could hear his heart beat in his ears. Making the door, he soundlessly stepped out of the room, grabbing her tablet, as he went, so he could leave her a message if she got up.
For a moment, he sat down at the kitchen table and put his head in his hands. He was still having problems staying here. But no way, could he stay in the bed with Hedeon any more tonight. No way, could he stay in the bed with Hedeon's sharp knife and thinking about the first man he had ever stitched up.
No, he didn't want to think about how Ivan and Luke had come back the next day for the man. The man he had never asked his name and that fact had haunted him but he really didn't want to think about the fact the man had never returned to his cell, but he had heard as the guards had drug the man's body out. His boots making that sound on the the concrete.
Yes, he knew the sound of a dead body, the sound of a dead man's boots scraping the concrete, giving no resistance, as the guards drug the dead out to add to the pile, to throw in a nameless grave. And he couldn't help but think that since he no longer had boots, he wouldn't even make a sound when they drug him out.
Oh, yes, he had wondered when Hedeon would really kill him, and he knew that Hedeon had bled the man he had stitched up out, and that he had changed nothing, that the only thing he had changed was that it wasn't his turn. And Mike's words had haunted him yet, again.
"He's killed everyone I've ever helped, everyone but me."
And he knew Mike's words were true for there were several others after the first one, and harboring guilt, he had never ask their names for Mike was right, all of them, everyone he helped Hedeon bled out, and the guards had drug their lifeless bodies away. He was the only one that got out alive and the last thing he could do was lie in his bed and think about that time.
So, carefully he got up from the kitchen chair and with carefully controlled movements, he put on his shoes and tied his laces.
It was 3:36 A.M., as he crept out the door, grabbing the soccer ball up as he went.
He knew he would kick the ball for a while, a very long while, but no matter how hard he kicked the ball, Hedeon still went with him, still hurting him for he seemed on replay right now. And, he had to bite his lip hard, to control the pain replaying in his head and he pushed himself hard trying to forget.
Finally the sun was coming up, and he headed back into the house. Past sweaty, he was just drenched in sweat, as he silently opened the door and she stood in his t-shirt, her hair wild, and he felt a sharp stab of desire, even as he cringed for he knew before she said sharply, with a shake of her head, "You're so busted."
"At least I left you a note." And he pulled the door shut behind him and dropped the ball into a basket by the door.
"Oh, like that just makes this okay?" She crossed her arms in front of her chest and frowned before she said, "We're going to talk and I mean right now. You're going to make a choice right here and now. I mean it, Oliver, right fracking here and now."
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Okay, readers you know the drill. Hope to hear from some of you. And as always thanks for the read. And to all HAPPY HOLIDAYS! And I do promise I will be posting through Helliatus.