Disclaimer: Do not own BTR, nor am I in any way affiliated with the production.
A/N: After some deliberation and nagging from Winterschild11, I decided to go ahead with this chapter. I will be participating in National Novel Writing Month next month and will be posting a completely different story, so I'm trying to get this one finished before the end of the month. The good news is that I'm almost done. Well, I guess that's also bad news too. There should only be one more chapter after this one. I know, said that last chapter. Anyhoo, on with the story...
Carlos stared down at his hands, fingers lightly stained with Kendall's blood. It was dried and flaking off his skin, and Carlos felt ill. The twenty minutes after arriving at the MI6 medical base no one had said a word beyond the first few minutes. Fifteen minutes after the twenty minute mark a doctor, or at least Carlos hoped he was, came out and talked with Agent Lane. They had spoken near the doors and away from his and Penny's prying ears.
"Carlos," Penny said, taking one of his hands in both of hers, "how about we go clean your hands up? We don't want Kendall seeing them like this and getting upset, do we?"
Tearing his gaze away from his other blood tinged hand and the floor, Carlos turned his face slightly to look at the teen sitting beside him. He noted the hope and determination in her brown eyes before turning his gaze to the hands hold his. "All right," he breathed, curling his fingers to grasp one of her hands.
Giving his hand a firm squeeze, Penny pushed herself up from the plastic chair. Her lips pulled in to a tight smile as she tugged on his hand to pull him from the chair he'd been forced into hour long minutes before. Silently they walked hand in hand down the corridor leading away from the doors Kendall had been taken through. Carlos tensed the fingers holding her hand as they moved away from the waiting area. Worry for his big brother filled him as Penny lead him down the hall, her fingers gently squeezing his to reassure him all would be fine.
More than half way down the long, wide hall Penny pulled him through a door. He was vaguely aware of the plaque informing all the room was a ladies restroom. He didn't protest as she pulled him to a sink. Letting go of his bloodied hand, Penny turned the water on warm and allowed it to run while she filled a palm with foamed soap. Gently she pulled his stained hands to the water. After wetting his hands, she carefully lathered the soap over his hands covering the blood. Working deftly her nimble, small hands worked the soap into his hands, scrubbing away as much of Kendall's blood as she could in one wash.
As her fingers worked over Carlos' slightly larger hands, Penny flicked light brown eyes up to the other teen's face. Sadness flooded her as she took in the blank look on his face and shredded look in his dark brown eyes. He simply stared at the water pouring from the faucet to wash over his soap hands, rinsing away the pink tinged soap. Shaking away the haunted look in Carlos' eyes, Penny reached for more soap. Using a smaller amount she quickly messaged it into the remaining patches of blood, eyes firmly on their task.
"Thank you," Carlos said, the sound hollow and reverberating off the tiled walls, as Penny rinsed the last of the pink tinted soap from his hands.
"You're welcome," she said shutting off the water and leading him to the hand dryers along the opposite wall.
Silence permeated the hall as they moved down it, away from the bathroom and further away from where Kendall had been taken. Less than a hundred feet from the bathroom, they turned a corner and were met with various vending machines. Penny zippered open a pocket and began buying various selections from granola and candy bars to soda pop. Holding what she could with one arm, Penny used her other to take Carlos by the hand and lead him back to the waiting area. Once there she encouraged him to sit and sip at a soda.
Carlos paid little attention as the cold liquid poured from the bottle into his mouth—the bubbles from the carbonation burning his throat in a familiar way as the sugary substance made its way down his throat. His dark eyes were once more focused on the door through which Kendall had disappeared. Though only forty-five minutes had passed since the medical team had taken his older brother from his view, he felt as though it had been hours, days even. He needed to see Kendall to believe that the other teen would be fine. Beyond that he needed to talk with him. Joke with him. Hug him. Be reassured by Kendall's personality, life and light that everything truly would be all right.
He was barely aware of a crinkly package being pressed into his empty hand when the doors burst open to reveal a man in wrinkled, slightly bloodied green scrubs. A surgical cap adorned his head and mask hung loosely around his neck. Without thought, Carlos pushed his worry weary body from the chair. His numb legs moved, rapidly, without conscious thought toward the doctor.
"He's going to be just fine," the man said with a tired smile. He gently laid a hand on the teen's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "He's in recovery. The wound, as I told Agent Lane, was clean and looked much worse than it was." Green-brown tinted blue eyes scanned over Carlos' face as though looking for something. The softened and the man opened his mouth to speak, "I'll take you back to see him. Once he's awake and we can assess his pain levels we'll release him."
Carlos swallowed, dark brown eyes wide in fear and anticipation. "Should he be released so soon?...I mean he needed surgery, and there was so much blood. Shouldn't he have to stay the night or something?"
"Carlos, correct?" He nodded. "All right, Carlos, though this is a medical facility, it's a secret facility specifically for MI6 agents. This not a hospital in the strictest of senses. We cannot keep him here for prolonged observation or treatment. However, I am recommending that he remain in London for the week and follow up with a doctor friend of mine who is very good. Also, I am more than certain he will want to have his mother, sister and the rest of your friends visit him, right?" Carlos again nodded. The doctor smiled. "We need to keep this place as hush hush as we can, so we cannot have them all here, coming and going until we're certain Kendall will be fine, now can we?"
"No, I guess not."
"Once he's awake and I am confident that moving him won't cause too much pain we'll prepare a transfer to a private room at the hospital closest to the Queens."
"Can I sit with him?"
"Of course," the doctor said, stepping back to open one of the large doors.
The short walk down the wide hall was quiet. The rustling of their clothes, and soft slide of the doctor's covered shoes on the tiled floor were the only sounds echoing through the hall. Carlos stole looks at the somber looking doctor as they made their way down the hall. He'd met many doctors over his years of stupid dangerous stunts and the emergency room visits they usually caused, but he'd never met a spy doctor. Or at least he couldn't remember ever meeting a spy doctor. But, he supposed, if he had met a spy doctor he would never know it.
He was so lost in thought about doctors and meeting a spy doctor that he almost missed the sudden stop they made. The dark gray door was closed preventing him from seeing what was on the other side.
"He should be coming round in a bit. Try not to let him move too much. Don't want him to pull his stiches," the man said, the fain trace of a smile on his thin lips.
"Thank you," Carlos said almost above a whisper.
The doctor smiled at him again, clapping him on the shoulder before walking away. Staring at the door before him, Carlos barely registered the doctor's exit. Sucking in a steeling breath, and nearly startling himself in the stale silence of the hall, the teen pushed the door handle down. With little effort Carlos pushed the large door open. He was mildly impressed when the door didn't squeal in protest of the hinges moving. Quickly scolding himself for jumping to horror movie thoughts, Carlos crossed the threshold of the room, allowing the door to swing closed behind him.