A/N: Continued thanks to readers. New Cal is almost here, right? All other notes in chapter one :)
CHAPTER FOUR
Getting in was easy.
Not that he had expected it to be overly difficult. Even with the ramped-up security, the facility was still sorely simplistic and under-armed compared to many of the places he had sneaked into.
Besides, Niko was no braggart, but a realist when it came to his skill. His stealth could be frightening, damn near impossible to trace, and when it came to Cal, his efforts were heightened in the extreme. In short, there was nothing he couldn't do.
Still, the guard had barely even looked up when Niko walked through the front doors. No one looked twice at him. Granted, he was wearing surgical scrubs and kept his head low, his blonde hair tied off in back, but he would have suspected someone to at least notice.
Getting in was easy. Seeing Cal—that would be the next challenge. Not insurmountable, but no easy feat. A front door guard may be oblivious to the people passing in and out. A room guard has only one goal—to keep people out. It would require some maneuvering to achieve such a task.
Goodfellow was going to keep the ward busy. Promise was in charge of the getaway. But Niko had to circumvent this obstacle himself.
He'd sweet-talked his way in once. At this point, it was doubtful it would work again.
No, this time required something quicker and to the point.
It was a good thing that Niko's people skills weren't his only assets.
Moving quickly, he navigated the hospital. By the time he reached Cal's wing, the chaos had already started.
The increased security was more evident the closer Niko got to Cal, with guards milling the floor looking vaguely ominous while nurses and doctors scuttled about their business. Niko lurked just past the nurse's desk, waiting for his cue.
The elevator dinged, and out came Goodfellow. Their eyes met and Goodfellow quirked an eyebrow and grinned before walking to the nearest guard.
Then, he broke into song.
For a second, the sight was so stunning that Niko forgot to move. Because Robin was singing, moving with the grace of a Broadway star, and hitting perfect pitch like the mythical creature that he was.
The guard looked embarrassed, then perplexed, as the rest of the ward slowly turned to watch. Then Robin, as quick as anything, neatly disarmed the guard and twirled the gun nonchalantly in the air. Not pointing, just playing, and it worked like a charm.
The guard barked out an order and several nurses squawked. As the rest of the security team came bounding in, Robin neatly danced away, singing as he went.
And Niko made his move.
The halls were quickly being cleared, patients shuttled into rooms by nurses who joined them there.
This was easier than he'd anticipated. He only had one obstacle left--the guard at Cal's room.
Undoubtedly, this one would have sense enough to maintain his post, even with the scene Robin was creating.
No matter. Armed or not, this man posed no risk to Niko, and with the rapidly clearing hallway, very little stealth would be required.
It was a different guard than before, tense and far younger, a baby face that Niko probably could have reasoned with under different circumstances. But not today. Not with a limited timeframe and his brother in the next room.
As the lanky guard stood to demand identification, Niko neatly grabbed his arm and spun him. Pulling him close, Niko pressed efficiently on his throat.
The guard's struggles were fast, furious, and short-lived. It was a mere fifteen seconds of proper exertion before the man went altogether limp in Niko's arms.
Swiftly, Niko dragged him inside the room, lowering him to the floor behind the door before turning his attention to more important matters.
Cal.
Cal looked better than before. He was still laid out on the bed, unmoving and intubated, but, at least this time, Niko could tell it was sedation and not injury that had his little brother down and out.
But the tube was still there, along with the IVs and other monitors Niko remembered all too vividly from his last visit. Whatever improvements Niko could see and knew about, it still wasn't easy to see his brother like that. Helpless.
Worse than helpless. Violated.
He did not doubt that medical intervention had saved Cal's life. The somber reports from Goodfellow's friend had assured him of that. His little brother had nearly died, and for saving Cal's life, Niko could not help but be grateful to the medical staff. He was adept with wounds, but he was not a surgeon, nor did he have the supplies to sufficiently treat such severe wounds. In the past, he'd relied on Rafferty, a healer, or even the services of whatever non-human entity he could muster up. Anything for Cal. He would have brought Cal to the hospital himself, had the situation been dire enough.
The fact was, Niko didn't know. He knew it had been a robbery, but not how much blood there'd been, how Cal had fallen. He did not know if his kid brother had passed out or stayed awake. He did not know if Cal had been afraid or not. He simply did not know. He hadn't been there.
That was the unforgivable mistake.
One he would rectify right now.
His moment of reflection gone, he forced himself to focus, remembering their tight timeframe. Goodfellow's diversion would only last so long, and he needed to have Cal ready to move when he started it.
Hovering by Cal's bedside, action was harder to take than he had anticipated. He had been told Cal was okay--he'd been assured of it--but Niko could not shake the last vestige of doubt. The fear that something could go wrong. He was not trained medically. Yet the things he had to do, the actions he had to take, required a doctor's touch. The removal of an IV did not worry Niko. The removal of the ventilator did. There was a risk he could harm his brother--he'd read about the process, the vulnerability of the throat and the vocal chords.
Not to mention the fact that he was counting on Cal coming off the ventilator with no complications. His little brother had been on it for over a week, which could pose a risk of dependency. And what if the doctors were wrong? What if Cal wasn't ready to come off? What if Niko himself had misjudged and Cal needed the medical intervention a bit longer? The details of Cal's injury had never been made explicit to him, only that he suffered a gunshot wound to the chest. It was a disconcerting fact that Niko did not know truly how healed his little brother was or how much recovery time he could expect Cal to take at home.
In the hall, he heard a loud voice--Robin. The plan was in motion. And Niko was behind schedule.
He spared no time to berate himself, instead started using his nimble fingers to extract the IVs and other monitors. The nurse's station would be alerted that Cal's vitals had stopped registering, but that was what he had the puck for.
The first things were easy. Things he'd done before (well, except for the catheter, but he would leave that one out of the story he'd tell Cal later). He carefully laid back Cal's limp arm, before turning to the last task. The hardest one.
Moving to his brother's face, his fingers hesitated. Then, carefully, he pulled gently at the tape, watching all the time for a reaction from his little brother.
Not even a flicker. Undoubtedly, the hospital wanted Cal to be asleep, both for prolonged intubation as well as the plans for him, so Niko could only guess the dosage of sedatives was high in his brother's system.
In some ways, that made Niko's job easier. He could not imagine that removing the tube would be a pleasant experience--for either of them--and if one of them had the privilege of being unconscious throughout the process, Niko gladly allowed Cal that small generosity.
Steeling himself, his fingers approached the tube. He'd spent the time he wasn't pacing back and forth in the apartment studying how the device worked, knowing every in and out, researching the risks and procedures for entry and removal. Luckily, the risky portion of the operation was insertion--there was a much higher risk for chipping teeth, for threading the tube down the wrong pipe, for scraping vocal cords. While there was still some danger of damage on the way out, if Niko was careful, the chances were minimal. He was counting on that. He wanted Cal out of the hospital, but not at the expense of serious impairment.
With a steady breath, his mind flashed over the diagrams and charts he'd studied, mentally recounting the anatomy of the neck and throat. Focused, he set to work, keeping in mind the simple step-by-step process he'd broken it down into. First, he disconnected the tube from the ventilator, working the mechanism until it was free.
He paused, watching intently. Cal's breathing staggered for a moment, and Niko's own heart froze in his chest. He waited--Cal made a choking noise, deep in his chest, and his body shuddered a little with the movement.
Then, a ragged inhale through the tube. Out again. Then in.
Cal was breathing.
Niko couldn't contain the smile that spread across his face. "That's it, little brother," he murmured.
But he was still only half done. The next part was more complicated, though he'd already passed the greatest hurdle of making sure Cal could sustain himself off the machine.
There was no time to spare. With easy, fluid motions, one hand gripped his brother's jaw. The other grasped the tube. Following the arc of Cal's throat, he pulled forward, feeling the tube slide. Prying open his little brother's mouth, he threaded the tube out, mindful of Cal's tongue and mouth.
When it was free, Cal lurched a little, his breath catching momentarily, before a grating cough made its way through his brother's system. Niko tensed, waiting. If Cal couldn't handle this, he wasn't sure what he'd do. He wanted Cal out of there, but--
But nothing.
With a soothing touch, Niko laced his fingers in his brother's hair, leaning down close to whisper in his ear. "Easy, Cal," he said. "You just need to breathe."
It took a few second, a few long seconds, but his brother's body obeyed, and the coughing subsided into harsh breathing. It was not ideal, not by any stretch of the imagination, but it would do.
A racket in the hall arose, but distant, and Niko knew time was short. Robin was good, but timing was everything, and Niko would be damned if the plan would fail because of his own sentimental musings.
With Cal detached from the medical intrusions, Niko hurriedly adjusted the blankets over his brother, pulling them full and up over Cal's head.
"Sorry, little brother," he muttered lightly. Cal would balk at playing dead. Niko could not bring himself to care much, though, because either he was wheeling Cal out under a sheet or hauling him out over his shoulder, with all of Cal's backside exposed. In terms of humiliation, the sheet probably would be preferable—not to mention less noticeable.
The fact that Cal was still in an ICU bed helped matters—all he had to do was unlock the wheels and move. Without wasting any more time, Niko maneuvered his brother's bed to the door.
Cracking it open, he peeked out, pleased to see the hall devoid of hospital staff. Clearly, Goodfellow's diversion was working.
Without hesitating any longer, he pushed the door all the way open, guiding Cal's bed into the hallway.
Once clear of the door, Niko set a brisk pace in the opposite direction of the commotion. He needed to clear the area, but not at the cost of attracting undue attention to himself.
With measured strides, he circled the ward, slowing as he heard voices. Willing himself to ease his pace, he rounded the next corner at a casual gait, so calm and normal that Niko almost felt sick with his act. Two nurses were walking his way, shaking their heads, looking over their shoulders, undoubtedly still discussing the climax of the commotion Goodfellow had caused. Giving them a perfunctory nod, Niko dared them to stop him, dared them to check.
They merely nodded back, though, too busy with their own work to question Niko's white coat and the sheet-covered body he pushed. Just another mortuary technician and a poor soul that did not make it.
Perfect.
Moving forward, he could hear Goodfellow still, distantly, but the puck was good—the action had been contained far enough from Cal's room and the elevators to facilitate Niko's escape.
It was all going so well. Too well. It almost made Niko nervous. They had planned meticulously, Niko had made sure of that, and it was nearly foolproof—but this was Cal. He let his eyes linger on his brother's still form. This was for Cal. There was no room for mistake. There was no lesser outcome he'd be satisfied with. Just complete success. Just Cal healthy and out of the hospital and free.
The elevator door dinged, and Niko rolled Cal inside. Niko still refused to breathe, though, not until the elevator doors slid shut in front of him and it lurched to a start to the basement, to freedom, to anyplace away from here.
-o-
The elevator was only the first step. It was a crucial step, but as the numbers flickering signaled their descent, Niko had to remind himself that they weren't out of the woods yet.
In fact, though getting off the floor was perhaps his most trying task, getting out of the hospital was indeed paramount. Because, though Niko could not imagine what medical marvels his little brother could uncover, he was already painfully aware of just how far some people would go to exploit Cal in the name of science.
Maybe Sophia had been right not to trust doctors. Niko knew full well his mother had resisted traditional medicine due to its high price tag; yet it seemed to Niko that the two went hand-in-hand. Where there was profit, there was corruption. He'd take the supernatural healing of a Jeftichew any day.
However, where there is not profit, there is not a strong reason to stay. Jeftichew had his own issues to work out, his own charges to keep.
Niko could appreciate that. Gently, Niko laid a hand on his brother's chest, feeling for the heartbeat he knew was there. A little fast, but steady.
Cal shifted ever so slightly, and Niko leaned down close. "Easy, Cal," he murmured. "Just a little longer."
Cal stilled, his breathing relaxing slightly, and Niko patted him grimly.
The doors dinged, and Niko sucked in a deep breath. They were halfway there. He'd taken Cal this far; he wouldn't fail him now.
He moved almost on autopilot. His memory was flawless in this regard, and his execution would be the same. It had to be where Cal was concerned. They were going to leave this hospital together—at any price. The metal detector at the front door had made him leave most of his typical weaponry at home, but he knew tricks that the metal detectors could not sense, and he would not hesitate to use them.
Moving down the hall, Niko nodded benignly at the staff he passed. They were still calm—no one knew yet. No one suspected. Especially not him. Not the dead body.
The trick was getting Cal out of the hospital. Dead bodies were fine for corridor passage, but he couldn't just wheel Cal on a stretcher into the street.
He turned into the designated corridor and couldn't help but smile. Promise had been there, and the wheelchair was exactly where she promised.
Casually, almost invisibly, Niko flipped the sheet down, revealing Cal's face and shoulders. Moving the bed against the wall, as was the practice in the busy hospital, he then moved to Cal's side.
Carefully, but fluidly, Niko pulled Cal up, minding his little brother's head as it flopped backwards, limp on his neck. Crooning gently, Niko straightened him, peering hopefully into Cal's face.
Cal whimpered a little. The drugs still had a hold on him, clearly, and Niko did not doubt that pain lurked right beneath the bliss of the sedatives.
"Almost there," Niko said. "Just a little more."
With Cal seated upright, his legs dangling over the edge, Niko glanced around. No one seemed to be noticing them, and Niko took satisfaction in seeing other patients strewn on gurneys through the busy corridors.
Looking back at Cal, Niko resisted the urge to baby his brother, to smooth his hair out of his face, to get a good look at his brother. There'd be time for that later, but for now—
With measured movements, Niko laced a hand under Cal's knees, using the other to support his brother's back. Cal was no lightweight by any stretch of the imagination, but lifting Cal seemed effortless, and Niko couldn't help but relish the warmth of his brother's skin against him as he hoisted him up.
Cal's head lolled against him, his brother's dark hair tickling his face. Quickly, Niko bent his knees, depositing his little brother into the waiting chair. Getting Cal to stay upright was a bit of a chore—his brother's loose limbs offered no support, and his head dipped forward. Niko kept a steady hand on Cal's shoulder, trying discreetly to keep the kid from flopping forward on his knees.
Then, he moved. There was no time to delay. It wouldn't be long until the entire hospital was on alert.
He could see it happening, almost in slow motion. They knew Cal was gone. Their first step would be to lock down the ward and seal the exits. It wouldn't take long for the message to be sent…not long, but long enough.
Sunlight streamed through the exit. People milled around. A security guard manned his post, arms crossed over his chest, reclining in his seat.
With a smile, Niko moved forward, nodding at the man the same instant the guard's radio crackled.
Niko knew what the message was about. Knew, and didn't slow down to have it confirmed.
The automatic doors whooshed open and Niko didn't slow down, not as he heard the guard's voice lazily asking what was wrong.
It didn't matter. Because the next time the guard looked up, Niko would be gone, and Cal would be, too.
-o-
He took a sharp right, turning close along the building, well out of view from the prying eyes of anyone who looked out the windows. It wouldn't be enough cover to last him long, however, Niko knew. For a patient as unique as Cal, Niko had no doubt that guards and a few frantic doctors would storm the streets. The key was getting out of there before then, and clearing the area before local police were called into duty.
Moving briskly, a hand firmly on Cal's shoulder, he ducked into the first alley. One of the great things about the city was that unusual and suspicious behavior wasn't all that unusual or suspicious at all. People rarely looked. Even fewer rarely cared.
In the alley, Niko pushed the wheelchair behind a dumpster, not bothering to obscure it more. By the time anyone found it and put the pieces together, it would be too late. Kneeling now, Niko bent in front of his brother, putting a hand to his brow and tipping his head back slightly, trying to assess the pale features.
Cal's eyes were closed, his lashes dark against milky skin. His mouth still hung open, the wheezes for air still pronounced but manageable. The dark hair that fell into Cal's face was stringy and unkempt, even by Cal's less-than-fastidious standards. All in all, Cal looked awful, which wasn't that far from the norm when it came to his little brother.
The more disconcerting fact was that Cal was still unconscious. Niko knew sedatives were powerful, and he knew that Cal had been dosed with more than his share, but that didn't help assuage the nagging worry that filled his stomach.
"Cal?" he called softly. "Can you hear me?"
Something like a grimace passed over Cal's face, but nothing more.
Niko sighed. He was going to have to carry his brother from here. Not unexpected, but certainly not ideal. His brother's mortification would be total, though Niko would gladly hold off from any kind of comments until Cal was well and able to sulk in response.
All in good time.
He was taller than Cal and more built, as well. Besides, he had experience in this area. It all came with the territory--not just as a big brother, but as Cal's big brother. His younger sibling had an unfortunate habit of getting himself injured, and Niko was not altogether unaccustomed to dragging his brother around.
Not that it was easy. Dragging Cal when he was half-conscious was awkward but doable. At least Cal's legs were making some kind of effort in the joint venture, even if it was up to Niko to keep them upright and moving in the right direction. Carrying Cal, however, required a bit more finesse. It had been many years since he'd been able to cradle his brother, at least for any distance. Once Cal had disappeared and come back two years older, Niko lost a great deal of his size advantage.
Over the shoulder was the least flattering of the carrying methods, and the one Niko had employed the least when it came to his brother. However, he needed to move quickly and cover enough ground to meet Promise in the car, so both his emotional reluctance and Cal's pride had to be secondary thoughts.
Fully steeled against the next leg of his escape plan, Niko ducked toward his brother. He leaned Cal's limp body against his, the younger boy's arms over his shoulder and his head rolling against his back. With a deep breath, Niko hoisted Cal further up, and with a deep breath, Niko rose to his feet.
It only took a moment to steady himself and adjust his grip on his brother, one arm wrapped securely around Cal's barely-covered legs. It not only stabilized Cal over his shoulder, but managed to keep the thing hospital gown in place, something with both he and Cal would appreciate, not to mention anyone they happened to pass by.
Without sparing any more time, Niko moved quickly now, turning sharply at the end of the alley into another dingy alley that intersected it.
It was a funny thing about Niko's training. How all his emotions could be bottled up so tightly within him, barely contained, and yet he was able to move with a practiced stealth few people could ever achieve. Even with his unconscious brother slung over his shoulder.
But this was his job. It was his duty. And more, it was all he had in life, and he would forfeit it for nothing. He and Cal would go out together, or they wouldn't go out at all. Those were the only options Niko even allowed himself to entertain.
The alley approached the street, and Niko could already see the car, parked just beyond the dumpster, facing toward the alley and ready for a quick getaway.
He could see Promise's small figure already manning the driver's seat. Though she preferred being chauffeured, driving was a skill that Niko was sure she had mastered years ago.
Opening the back door, he ducked down, lowering Cal carefully to the seats. The car was black, older, and nondescript. Not too worn, not too shiny. Perfect for blending into a New York City street. Undoubtedly not a vehicle Promise would normally drive, but this was not a normal situation.
Sitting Cal up against the seat, Niko then moved to his brother's legs, folding them gently into the back seat. Cal's body was pliant, his head still lolled back, and Niko slid in deftly beside him.
With the door shut behind him, he looked up at Promise, who met his gaze over his shoulder. "Drive," he said. "Just as we discussed."
She didn't speak, but she didn't need to. Sunglasses obscuring her face and a scarf pulled over her forehead, she turned attention forward. The car shifted into gear and pulled easily out onto the sunlit street.
There were sirens, somewhere, but they did not matter. The car was already moving smoothly through traffic, moving farther and farther away from the hospital. By the time the police thought to look this far, it would be too late.
Niko looked down at his brother, who was splayed against the seat, his body slumped limply toward him. Sighing, he let one hand run through his brother's hair, stroking it lightly, and shifting Cal so he was even closer.
"Almost there," he whispered gently, soothingly, in relief. "We're almost home."
-o-
They'd set up shop in Niko's apartment. Both Promise and Goodfellow could have offered more comfortable arrangements, even quieter ones, but Niko was the only one with no ties to anything, no connection to the hospital. He was anonymous, just like Cal needed to be. So though it was smaller, less furnished, and less polished, it would do just fine.
Besides, Niko didn't care about such luxuries. They were superfluous. All that mattered was Cal, and Niko was confident that his younger brother wouldn't balk at his new place of recovery—not for a few days, at least.
Promise parked the car in the back alley, leaving it to idle as Niko assessed Cal more thoroughly. Carefully, he eased his brother down onto the seat, sweeping his hair from his face. Then, mindful of Cal's bandages, he leaned forward, until he was close to his brother's mouth. There was noise from the street nearby, usual New York City bustle, but Niko didn't hear it, didn't hear anything except the heavy pulls his brother made for air.
"How is he?" Promise asked, leaning over the seat.
Niko looked up, met her intense gaze. She was worried, he could tell, though Promise rarely showed it. She cared about Cal. Niko had not doubted it, but the intensity of it still surprised him. Sharing the responsibility for his brother was still a new experience.
"A little strained," he said. "But breathing well."
He pulled back, lightly picking up Cal's hand and studying the long fingers. "No discoloration," he commented. "So air intake is adequate."
"His pulse?" she prompted.
Moving his hand up Cal's arm, he found the brachial pulse throbbing in Cal's arm. "Strong," he said, pausing to count. "And steady. His pressure must be adequate as well, but I'll check it once we get him inside."
"He doesn't seem to be guarding his wound," she said. "This many days since the injury, I suspect it's healing well."
"I'll change the bandages upstairs," he said. "I suspect he's still heavily sedated."
"Undoubtedly," Promise agreed. "Can you get him up without assistance?"
It was an unnecessary question. "Do not linger," Niko advised.
"I will return shortly," she promised. "Do you need anything?"
There were medical supplies in the apartment. Bandages, antiseptic, even a pair of IV lines with saline and antibiotics to back them up. Promise had changed the sheets on Cal's bed, preparing his room to be as sterile as it would ever be for Cal's recovery. Niko had stacked his medical books by the side of Cal's bed, already marked and worn for the relevant passages. A copy of Cal's chart was there as well, a day or so old, but with enough detail to give a sense of the doctor's questionable attempt to help Cal.
Moreover, Niko had Cal. His little brother was here, with him, in his arms, warm and breathing and alive.
There was nothing else he needed.
-o-
The trip up the stairs was more arduous than any other leg of the journey. Cal's dead weight felt heavy and awkward and more conspicuous than ever as Niko navigated the dingy halls. Niko didn't really believe in elevators, but for the mere sake of expediency, they were his only option today. Hauling a limp, gowned younger brother through the halls would likely attract attention, even in a place as rundown as theirs so he needed to get upstairs as quickly as possible.
Fortunately, it was midmorning, and the more respectable tenants were off at work, doors shut up tight and the hallways empty. Still, Niko did not dawdle, instead moving his brother as quickly as he dared up the stairs and into the apartment.
When he finally settled Cal onto the waiting bed, he realized just how exhausted he was. Not just from lugging Cal's weight around the city, but from the waiting, the worry. For as strong as Niko was, when it came to Cal, all bets were off. He did not even acknowledge the emotional toll Cal's absence had taken on him until the relief of having Cal back sapped the adrenaline right from his system.
He'd been running on empty for days, fueled only by his need for his brother's presence. Now Cal was here, next to him, alive and mending, and the sheer reality of it all was almost more than Niko could handle.
Weary now, he hovered over his brother, allowing himself to study Cal with some depth. With probing fingers, Niko touched Cal's brow, finding it cool and dry. His brother's cheeks were sunken a bit, his eyes rimmed with dark circles. The pulse in his neck was steady, though, strong. Reaching for the blood pressure cuff, Niko secured it around Cal's upper arm, using the stethoscope to check the pulse again while the cuff inflated.
100/60 was maybe a little low, but Cal had been in good shape when this began, no matter how often he chided his brother to the contrary. He moved the stethoscope to Cal's chest, pressing it under the top of Cal's gown, listening to the steadiness of Cal's heart and the slow movement of his lungs. He was no doctor, but the lungs sounded clear.
Cal's body stretched long on the sheets, his limbs limp where Niko had laid them. He took a moment to straighten them, gently and carefully, before turning his attention to Cal's gown-covered torso.
The gown didn't do much to cover Cal, and it didn't take much for Niko to pull the loose ties apart and pull the gown down. He let it linger on Cal's lower half, more for Cal's benefit than his own.
That was when he first saw the bandages. He had known they'd be there, logically, but it still made him inexplicably nervous to see. Gunshot wounds were serious; they did not heal overnight, and in all of the worry of getting Cal out, sometimes it was easy to forget what put Cal there in the first place.
Slowly, he fingered the tape, easing it up off of Cal's translucent skin. His brother didn't flinch, and Niko proceeded, pulling at the bandage until it was clear of his brother's chest.
He tossed it aside, oblivious, as his eyes were trained on the wound.
Gnarled and raw skin, pulled tight by stark, dark stitching cut across the right side of Cal's chest. It was easy to see the wound itself, the untidy redness heaped together amid the longer incision scar.
It looked horrific. The placement deadly. There had undoubtedly been lung damage. The doctors may not have been ethical, but Niko realized that not all the medical intervention had been a ploy. His brother had been gravely injured. The ventilator, though maintained unreasonably, had likely saved his brother's life.
That was a bitter pill. He'd relied on blaming the hospital, on demonizing them, making them the enemy. But the doctors and nurses--they had saved his brother's life. Looking at the wound, looking at its placement, Niko knew that had he been with Cal, there was nothing he could have done. No miracle fix from a healer. No thrown-together apartment save.
He sighed, letting his hand rest on his brother's head. "Cal," he muttered softly. "You never can do things the easy way, can you?"
There was no reply, not that Niko had expected one. He pulled his hand away, reaching for the antiseptic and gauze.
-o-
It was different now.
Okay, so that wasn't the most astute observation ever, but really, any observation was a stretch at this point. Especially when everything was so damn hazy that he couldn't even tell if his eyes were open or not.
He kind of hoped they were closed. Whatever was out there, he didn't really want to deal with.
Besides, he was probably dreaming, wasn't he? Haziness meant dreams, and since he wasn't sure where he was or why he was there, then he could add surreal to the list of weirdness going on right then, which again supported the idea that this was nothing more than a really bad dream.
Though this wasn't quite as vivid as his dreams usually were. Not as defined, not as terrifying. This was just...weird.
And there was something different. Something familiar. Something--
Cal sucked in a deep breath and nearly choked on it.
Hell, breathing wasn't supposed to hurt like that. Especially not in a dream.
Then it occurred to him. Breathing. Inhaling and exhaling. That meant--
The tube. The tube was gone. There had been a tube before and monitors and doctors with crappy bedside manners and--
Niko. They were going to keep him from Niko. He'd been shot and he was hurt and Niko wasn't there and he was never going to see his brother again and no matter how much he wanted it to be, this wasn't a dream. Not even the Auphe could induce nightmares like that.
"...he's waking up..."
Talking. Always that damn talking. So close and yet too far away from him to do anything about. Not that he could anyway, with this whole confusion about which position his eyelids were in.
"We should get Niko."
"But he's hardly slept--"
"Do you really want to incur his wrath when he finds out his little pain-in-the-ass brother woke up and we didn't tell him?"
That wasn't a doctor. That was...Robin?
"Fine." Measured. Soft. Promise. "I'll get him."
Robin and Promise. Robin and Promise and that meant...he was...
He tried to breathe deep again, and found himself coughing.
"Whoa," Robin said, and there was a hand on his shoulder. Gentle. Reassuring. "You may want to take it easy there. Though we've sprung you from the hospital, you're still not a hundred percent. And Niko would kill me if anything happened to you now."
Out of the hospital. Which meant it was okay now. He was safe now. Which meant--
"He's awake?"
His eyes needed to work--now. Because he knew that voice. Tight and no-nonsense and to the point--
"Cal?"
Unless it came to him. Niko was next to him, talking to him. Niko was here. But...
"Open your eyes, little brother."
Cal didn't care much for orders. He didn't care much about giving people what they wanted. Except when it came to Niko.
It was effort, real effort, but Cal didn't mind. He barely even noticed. Cracking his eyelids, the light was bright, painful. The room was hard to see, the objects too hard to focus on.
But there--right in front of him. Blonde hair. Olive skin. A smile.
"Welcome back," Niko said. "You've given us quite a scare."
There were so many things Cal wanted to ask. So many things he wanted to know. But he was too weak and breathing was too hard and damn it all, Niko was here.
Niko shushed him. "There'll be time for that later," he said. "Right now, go back to sleep."
Cal wanted to protest--hard. He'd been sleeping so long, he'd been forced to sleep, put under, and he didn't want to. Because if he woke up again, who was to say this wasn't a dream?
"No worries," Niko said. "I'll be here when you wake up."
Cal had so many doubts, so many fears, but this was Niko. His brother's voice was so sure, so confident, so Niko, that Cal couldn't help but trust him and he succumbed to sleep once again.