by ~DingDongFootball
Dust, sprinkled about the heavily sanitzed air like infectious pocks clustered randomly on the flesh of a sickly child, swirls overhead like an infant's mobile, twirling in the nonexistent breeze. The smotes are colour`ed a powder blue, a fault of the subtle cornflower paintjob that brightens the infirmary walls. The dome shaped windows spaced in between the beds draw in a bright, early August sunlight, though thankfully sparing the inhabitants of the room proper the sweltering heat of torturous, Gregorian altercations.
Water drips from an unknown source, silent and nothing more than an auditory backdrop for the silent Heinrich and his work. His black leather shoes are greased and shined to the point of beaconry, the German's clacking heels sounding in even strides against the warm, sunbaked floor, the wrinkled material actually warming in the dispersed pockets of natural illumination. The hem of his coat sweeps the spotless ground in a swishing rhythm perfectly in sync with that of his step. The high power sanitizer he utilized nightly prevents any residue from dyeing the coat a muddled grey, the very same sanitizer leaving behind no traceable smell, hence why it had so quickly become his favourite to use. His sigh is lighter than usual in that irritation is not what triggers it; the man extends an arm and nearly wrenches the contraption from its holster, the bulky fix up giving a faint squeak as the man adjusts the medigun angled from the ceiling to focus on the gunshot wound in Sniper's chest, lying just below his bruised collarbone.
He licks his lips, taking the thin, untainted steel of the scalpel and using the leverage of the man's muscle to pluck a small, dime sized bullet from the cavity - the third one of his hospitalisation, in fact - his other hand raising the settings of the medigun so as to nullify the sensation for the Australian who slowly parts his eyes for the first time in three days.
"Jack," the German whispers, his voice merely a breath, any sort of emotional expression having been shocked from the man over the course of the week. He brings a small light into his hands, twisting it into his fingers, parting the Australian's eyelids with his latex protected fingertips and shining it indiscriminately into the grey iris, nodding as Jack's pupil dilates in a sufficient amount of time. Sniper says nothing as his mind settles into concrete awareness, the man the most conscious and alert he had been for the past three days. His heart tears and his head pounds as if the aforementioned organ had risen to pump right between the temples, a noticeable though not exactly painful pressure fogging his senses. His upper body may be sore and raw, but it's not a pain that causes him to cry audibly. Instead he watches as Medic sanitizes his own wound, occupied by the sight of the German dragging soaked wipes across the mangled gash for a good forty seconds before observing the blood the German transfuses into his body. Jack's smoky eyes trail slowly along the stand next to the bed, thankful to see the man had not taken advantage of his state and removed any organs from his body purely for research purposes.
"You are lucky to be alive."
He locks eyes with the Australian, for whom the words take time to settle and manifest themselves into any sort of meaning beyond spoken thoughts. The man, completely naked, though covered by crisp, admittedly comfortable white blankets, allows his exhaustion lidded eyes to travel about the infirmary slowly, the doctor unaware of whether or not they can truly and functionally process all they see. He follows the Australian's gaze over to Archimedes, who perches upon his rest in a small, metal domed cage a ways away, the dove's eyes closed, rustling his feathers as he basks in the light of the sun. He coos, though receives no response from his aviary friends, the rest still out on their morning hunt.
"…And Larry?" Jack croaks tiredly, wincing softly as the German injects a cool grey liquid into his forearm. "Tell me for the loveo'God my Larry's okay,"
Heinrich discards the needle into a nearby waste bin, crumpling the white paper it came wrapped in and tossing it too. Sniper feels his whole body recluse and lock in a tension so fierce he actually groans and feels his skin taughten and retract across his muscle, like butter scraped over too much bread. It was a result of the shot he'd just received, he assumes mentally, his heart pounding at a slower rate as his loosens, the sensation he'd experienced fading more and more to the point that the only thing to remind him of the happening was a small, prick sized hole in the tanned, scarred skin of his arm. He suffers through yet three more injections of similar proportions, his face stony and unresponsive as he awaits yet another word from Heinrich. The older man nods quickly.
"He's alive."
Jack's lips tremble, his eyes closing from relief. Heinrich tugs on the blanket's hem lying against Jack's chest, tugging it and directing the Medigun's rays onto the bullet wound directly. "Zough not vizout his injuries,"
"'Course, he was mangled by time I got to'im…" the man chokes, Heinrich swallowing heavily.
"Had Luc been even a few minutes later, I fear you vould not have made it, Herr Sniper,"
"Aye…" Jack nods. "'S long as Larry did…"
"He made it, Jack,"
"How?!" Jack asks quietly, finding a little strength within him to laugh, though careful that his chest does not heave too violently. "How in the Hell did any o'us make it, Doc? Really,"
"You vould have to ask Luc, it is because of him you did,"
"Holy shit, y'don't mean it, do ya?"
"Vhy in ze vorld vould I lie at such a time?"
"Right…" Jack sighs, going to-much to both his own and the German's surprise-lift his left arm to scratch gingerly at his shoulder.
"I vas gone right after I vas escorted from her room; ven Lawrence vas brought to me, alive, conscious, zough in critical condition hours later, I vas just as surprised and clueless as yourself-zankful, zough highly surprised. And to see you, also miraculously holding onto life…"
"Where is he, Doc-"
"Who?"
"Lawrence, I need to see him,"
"He's resting, Jack…."
"Still?! He hasn't woken up at all these last three days?!"
"He-he has-"
"But?!"
"Lawrence vill need a day or two longer to rest, Jack. Ze boy vas suffering from first degree burns all over his body-"
"He looked like charred meat when I got to 'im, Doc…"
"Zey vill heal-already ze burns are clearing up viz help of ze ointment and ze medigun's rays,"
"Thank God…"
"His condition is easily one of the worst I've encountered; lacerations covered ze boy's body like moss, namely ze superior anterior. Zere vere zree breaks in his right arm, one in ze humerous and two in ze radius carpals, completely shattered. According to ze rest of my notes, zere are lacerations covering the lower extremity, mainly anterior femoral and sural. Small incisions between the inferior phalanges. Four metacarpals dislocated at head-"
"I'm not understandin' anything, Doc…"
"And of course, his thumb had to be shorn off at ze trapezium-"
"Wait-shorn off, y'mean…" Jack begins, sitting up heavily. "Completely gone?"
"I had to take his zumb and his right foot, Jack, had I not zey vould have been infected and he vould have died-"
"Y'amputated Larry's foot?!" Jack whimpers, Heinrich sighing heavily and looking the man chillingly in the eye. "How's 'e supposed t'run, or play baseball?!"
"I'm afraid it could not be saved, Jack-neizer ze foot nor ze zumb,"
"How difficult could it've been, Doc?! Y'got machines here that'll bring a damn near zombified man back t'full health, but y'honestly can't find a way in the whole damn bay t'avoid-?!" Jack sighs, the German unphased by the man's aggravated tone, slathering the hot petroleum jelly along his open wounds along Sniper's chest and arms with a thick, clear ointment, a smell mixed between latex and rubbing alcohol plugging the Australian's nostrils to the point of gagging seconds later.
"Herr Sniper, I know it upsets you-"
"Does he even know?!"
"Know vat?"
"About his-foot'nd hand…"
"Yes…he knows,"
"Well then I guess I'm the only one that doesn't get it, where's the bloody line drawn, Heinrich?! How can you save our liveswith all this equipment, but y'still have t'hack off bodyparts like you're a goddamn butcher-"
"Zhe line is drawn on vat is living, Jack," Heinrich begins darkly. "Zere is nozing I or any of my mezods can do if ze flesh isdead," the German snaps, unable to read his face for a good two minutes. "…So then he can't run anymore, can he?!"
"At-at ze very least ze vound in his left hand is healing okay, as is ze break in his arm. Because of ze medigun, I believe he should be fine to be discharged sometime zis afternoon, zough under ze condition zat should he be discharged so early, zere vill still be a few days necessary for his natural recovery…"
"...where is he?"
"Sleeping right next to you. I have him set to sleep manually zhrough a setting on ze medigun, however ze rest helps him, vezer it is artificially initiated or not,"
"'nd me?!"
"Ze same goes for you, Jack…"
"Aye...can I go see him?"
"Yes, zough be careful in your valking and be sure to take slow steps," Heinrich explains warily, taking the needle from Jack's vein, the man assisting him in standing. "He is zere, zree beds down."
Jack could feel his breathing. He could feel his lungs expand calmly under the palm of his warm hand, Lawrence's naked flesh smooth and oiled, the remedy assuredly aiding to heal one of the many ailments under which Scout suffers, that Jack had not fully understood due to the German's word choice. He whimpers as he nebbishly goes to run his hands across the young man's face, his skin warm with a hidden but real vitality he did not expect to sense. Surprise catches his breath as the tips of his fingers smooth across patches of scaly, coal like zones where the skin had either been burned to char, or where no skin resided at all. At the very least he looks peaceful. His eyes shut, the edges of the two lids sealed together so smoothly Sniper cannot find a single fault or wrinkle in either of them.
"What are lacerations, Doc?" Jack asks quietly, placing soft kisses along the young man's forehead and cheeks, not even grimacing once as he takes the burning, minty substance of petroleum jelly like consistency onto his burning, sensitive lips.
"Cuts, Jack; zough cuts more along ze lines of slashes. For example, if you look at Lawrence's right arm-ze one zat vas broken-"
"Aye…"
"You vill see it is covered in wrappings. Zis is because ven he first came to me, his hand vas punctured completely zrough ze palm,"
"What's that mean-"
"Exactly vat it sounds like; he must have been stabbed, right zrough ze middle,"
"Bloody Hell, will he be alright?!"
"Ze vound itself has healed, zere is no longer a hole, zough I suspect it vill take weeks before ze hand is functional at a normal capacity once more, should he leave today and not spend ze veek under my care,"
"Thank God for modern medicine, I suppose,"
"Modern Medicine?! Ze technology I am using is exclusive to zis base, to zis bay, Herr Sniper. It is my science viz Rick's engineering. Not even you REDs are so caught up, your Medic still fools around viz radiation zherapy…"
Jack scoffs, but ultimately has no interest in attending any further investment in the doctor's broken ego.
"I can feel 'im breathe, Doc…"
"Zat is a good sign," Heinrich sighs, adjusting Lawrence's bed covers.
"So can you wake him up?"
"Vat, right now?!"
"Or-soon-"
"Vy?!"
"Well…what's today?"
"August zird…I believe it is a Tuesday…"
"Doc, it's…"
"His birzday, I know," Heinrich finishes the sentence, smiling sadly as the Australian gives the young man a soft kiss on his lips.
"Twenty five, love…" Jack smiles. "Y'made it…"
"Ven he vakes ve vill congratulate him outright, but for now I zink it vould be best for your own condition if you returned to rest…"
"I want t'talk t'him, Doc,"
"I know, Jack, but now is not ze bes-"
The infirmary's heavy oak door parts open, the unmasked Frenchman slipping through and relying on the physics of nature to close it behind him; it does so, but slowly.
"Oi, Luc…" Jack sighs, the older man looking up briefly and nodding, out of breath as he plops into one of the white wire chairs nestled neatly in between each bed. "Zhe men of your base are always so watchful, 'Err Doctor; even an experienced Spy such as myself 'ad trouble sneaking zhrough wizhout inciting a problem of sorts…"
"Had I known you vere coming up I vould have escorted you!"
"What's done is done, non?" Luc pants, shutting his eyes and allowing himself a minute of rest. "…I see zhat Jack 'as recovered quite nicely,"
"Zankfully ze man had only gunshot vounds, however he is standing around ven, despite his seemingly healed appearance, heshould be back in bed!"
"I want to talk t'Lawrence, Doc!"
"You vill speak viz him, but he is not even avake yet!"
"Logic and Jack are non compatible entities when zhe safety of Lawrence is involved…" Jack smiles warmly, Jack mumbling as he reluctantly settles into his own bed again.
"One vould zink he vould have no disputes about his safety, considering it is because of me zey did not die after you brought zem to me!"
"It ain't you, Doc…"
"'E's just in a rush to see 'im 'ealzhy again…"
"Vell, I told him earlier zat he can zank you for ze fact zat zey are boz alive,"
"What?! Non, Herr Doctor-" Luc gasps, taking a cigarette from his case before remembering where it was he resided, thus tucking it back inside of the metal holder. "You give yourself too little credit,"
"What happened, Luc," Jack asks coldly, the Frenchman scratching behind his neck as the man wastes no time in uttering a hysterical "How the Hell did we all get back here?!"
"Well, it was zhree days ago. After zhe Administrator shot you a zhird time, knocking you out completely-"
"Vat did you even do to get shot, Jack?!"
"Exactly what you zhink 'e most likely did. She faced Lawrence wizh zhe same ultimatum; eizher 'e was to shoot you a final time to kill you, or 'e was to be killed, sparing you,"
Heinrich blanches, but says nothing, the man weaving around Luc in the aisle and tending to Lawrence in silence.
"She went to shoot 'im in zhe mouzh; 'er revolver, 'owever, 'ad no bullets left,"
"Fuck, mate…"
"So she fought wizh Pauling-"
"Didn't y'tell Larry t'just shoot me like you 'nd I discussed?!"
"'E refused, Jack! And Miss Ingram returned wizh Dmitri's discarded pistol, and aimed it downward, at 'is 'ead,"
"Y'mean he survived a shot t'the head?!"
"Well non, you see I zhen acted from sheer instinct myself by zhat point. Right as she shot, I tackled 'er,"
"Y'mean it?"
"Zhe shot zhen missed and 'it 'im in zhe leg instead. 'E screamed and was clearly in pain, alive, but zhe woman was fuming; she roared and went to aim again, but Pauling-"
"What'd she do?!"
"She intervened, she said it was enough, zhat we 'ad all suffered enough,"
"Girl's prolly traumatized, eh?" Jack chuckles gruffly, bringing his hand to stroke at the visible black stubble sprouting at his unshaven chin. "I reckon she's filin' for a transfer right as we speak,"
"She told us off, for defending 'im, you see, but she took anozher shot wizh 'er pistol at Lawrence-"
"Bloody Hell!"
"And as Pauling yelled for 'er to stop, said she was zhrough. She dropped zhe weapon, gave Lawrence's body a kick, and told us she was beyond done wizh our "nonsense", as she called it, and zhat we were all to get out of 'er sight. We 'ad bored 'er, she claimed, and zhat whezher or not you or Lawrence survived was no longer 'er concern, as it was taking up too much of 'er time. She said zhat you two were to never return should you even survive, stripped of your rankings, benefits…" Luc clears his throat. "Your bank accounts 'ave been emptied,"
"Oi, she thinks I give a toss 'bout any o'that?!"
"So zhen it got to zhe point where she no longer spoke to me or Pauling-"
"So?!"
"So I took you bozh wizh 'er 'elp and managed to get you settled in zhe confiscated van-"
"Y'managed t'rescue my van?!" Jack whimpers. "You're a bloody hero, mate…"
"Bloody indeed, by time I left zhat building I was covered in everyone's blood but my own! Not to mention carrying you bozh took a strengzh from me I imagine I will never actually gain again,"
"What d'you mean?!"
"Well, I pulled my back very badly, and it showed when I tried outrunning BLU's Pyro downstairs,"
"Did he notice you?"
"No, 'err Doctor, zhough 'e was very suspicious,"
"I can't believe y'got my camper, y'saved Majorie…"
"Hmph-she's now covered in your blood, inside and out, and you now 'ave to put water in zhe radiator every one 'undred twenty kilometers because she overheats, but yes-I managed to bring you 'ere, alert zhe Doc, and 'e instantly began working on you, zhough 'e warned your chances of surviving-particularly yours, Jack, were very slim,"
"'Nd look, Luc, we're alive…" Jack shakes his head disbelievingly. "Which I don't understand, why did she just…quit after all that…"
"I imagine she assumed you all would die on your own, after leaving zhe base,"
"Well oops, eh?"
"If she knew you were bozh getting care from 'Einrich I imagine she would 'ave us all executed by zhe firing squad,"
"Well shit, mate, guess we need t'get outta there then, right?"
"Me? No. I am afraid I must stay,"
"Luc're you mad?! She's not finished with you!"
"I know it,"
"So then get the Hell outta dodge, you wanker!"
"And risk 'er attempting to get back at me by 'urting Lawrence furzher? Or seeking out 'is brozhers or mozher? I zhink not. I am scheduled to meet wizh 'er again zhis coming Friday,"
"Bloody Hell, Luc…"
"I imagine I will be punished, but not to your extent; you were all excellent fighters; 'ad you not been she would not 'ave been so reluctant to kill you bozh. 'owever I am particularly indispensible as a Spy and executive of TF Industries. She trained me 'ereself,"
"Regardless, there's no way you're actually gonna go back there, mate-"
"I imagine we will discuss my murdering of Dmitri primarily, zhough she will certainly ask what became of you bozh,"
"And?!"
"I will tell 'er you got away, but zhat is all I know. I do not know if you managed to survive or not,"
"Oi…"
"And zhat should suffice. If by averting zhis meeting I would only succeed in muddling zhings deeper, I'd razher go a'ead and accept my punishment,"
"Then me 'nd Larry need t'get the fuck outta here," Jack spits grimly, casting a look at the resting young man.
"Somezhing I would suggest, yes,"
"But zey need at least zree more days of rest! Ze more I zink about it, ze less ready I am to let you go, Jack!"
"Doc, y'saved our lives, 'nd as long's I'm fit enough t'drive 'nd Larry's fit enough t'exist, we can take care o'the rest on our own! 'Specially 'cause I reckon we ain't got much else for choices, mate,"
"And where would you go, Jack?"
"Like I know, Luc. Boston maybe? I have no bloody idea,"
"Yes, I imagine Boston would be fine; 'e would want to be wizh 'is mozher,"
"What d'you mean?" Jack croaks, his grey eyes travelling the length of Luc's slender legs, for the man still stands.
"What else is zhere to mean, Jack? 'E as suffered a most traumatic experience, and I am more zhan certain a distance put between 'imself and zhis base would be zhe next most fitting zhing for 'is condition besides zhe good Doctor's 'ealing; particularly if zhe distance should lead 'im to 'is 'ometown, 'is favourite place on earzh, and 'is family,"
"Way t'leave me outta the equation," Jack spits indignantly.
"Jack, you are taking it so personally wizhout any good need to do so; it should be an unspoken fact zhat you play per'aps zhe most crucial part in Lawrence's wellbeing,"
"Right, completely disregard ze medicine I have been giving him and ze surgical procedures I have undergone to save his mere life," Heinrich slips his own disgruntled quip into the fray, Luc growling, his brow wrinkling like the furls of a well kept accordion.
"Zhese should all be facts so obvious zhey do not even bear mentioning! I suggest keeping your cool, Jack, I imagine 'Einrich is touchy about zhe amount of stress you work unto yourself,"
"Zat I am,"
"Well pardon," Sniper snaps, rolling his eyes and staring at his folded hands, placed gently in his lap. "Sorry if maybe I get a little touchy at the thought o'Larry runnin' away t'Boston without even needin' me,"
"Jack, you were literally zhe only zhing zhat kept Lawrence going after zhe whole ordeal! I do not see what it is zhat is so difficult for you to understand,"
"Last time I marched into Boston with Lawrence I only ended up sparkin' his eldest brother's homophobia. You're right when y'say Scout needs his time alone with his Mum 'nd family,"
"And to not include yourself in 'family' is stupid, Jack,"
"Well I reckon Larry's gonna want some personal time with 'em all regardless,"
"'E would not go another inch wizhout you by 'is side,"
"'Nd I don't want his brother castin' him out or causin' a scene 'cause his Faggot boyfriend tagged along,"
"I am pretty sure Christopher could make an exception for zhe man zhat is responsible for Larry 'aving made it out alive, regardless of 'is sexual preference," Luc snaps matter of factly, the even, coolness of his tone suggesting the man to have had enough of the Australian's irrational anxiety. "Even if 'e can be difficult at times."
"Responsible for seein' he came out alive?! I reckon that's more your title than mine, Luc," Jack whispers. "'F it weren't for me fallin' for Larry, he never woulda been caught up in all of it, y'know?! I'm sure his folks wouldn't be too keen on me if they knew it was 'cause of his feelin's for me he got dragged t'see her in the first place,"
"Which is why we will not say anyzhing about it; we will tell 'er Lawrence was gravely injured in battle and discharged accordingly,"
A clink of a small glass trinket colliding lightly against one of Heinrich's metal tables starts Jack, though only in the form of a slight twitch of his whole frame. Ignoring the German's breathy, subdued scoff, Jack, caught in between the roar of his thoughts and the cry of anxiety deafening his ears, wrinkles the tip of his long nose, the distinct burn of vinegar stinging in the ducts of his nostrils. The silence shared between the three (technically four) men allowing the man to check out of four of five senses, focusing entirely on the tang of the festering liquid and its potent presence. Its burn at the small, black nose hairs that curl in tiny, essentially nonexistent rings along the cartilage of his inner nose, appears and registers itself within him inoffensively enough, Jack's eyes coming to water, the molecules of the acetic acid infecting the air like invisible fireballs.
"I wonder if it vould be vorz it, for Jack…" Heinrich begins cryptically, putting a stopper back in the glass vial as he takes mental note of the Australian and his stinging, swollen eyes.
"What, is what worth what?!" Jack starts, Luc turning his head in silent interest as well. Heinrich hiccups slightly, and like sand drizzling lazily over a lucid surface, the grains cascading over its cool, borrowed space in the form of a glassy waterfall, the colour in his face draws itself back in slow succession, filtering to where Sniper could only presume was the bottom of his feet. "Zere is more…" he whimpers, Jack watching the man's gloved hands and the way the tips of his long fingers press themselves flat against Lawrence's temples.
"More t'what," Jack growls, and the German messes with yet a couple more settings upon the black minigun, Sniper's eyes fixed on a subtle, light blue heat that radiates from its circular nozzle, disappearing into what appears to be the back of the young man's head.
"…Lawrence's condition,"
"What about it-"
"I too would like to know, 'Einrich," Luc adds tersely, the German's shoulders heaving, the man expelling a heavy sigh under their gazes.
"I simply fear zat driving to Boston vould not be vise,"
"And why, Doc,-"
"Jack, please, remain calm-"
Why're y'havin' second thoughts," Jack begins quickly, aggressively, ignoring Luc's quiet, rational plea meant to call out to the usually relaxed and cool headed Australian who now stands amongst the company of men, his temper, calm, and collectiveness at a rarely crossed, though fine and fanatic edge.
"I did not vant to tell you, Jack-"
"Tell me what?! Out with it, Heinrich!"
"I simply fear zat he vould die along ze vay," Heinrich belts firmly, the speed with which his statement is spoken proving that despite the firmness of his resolve he still teeters on nervousness. The German finds himself unable to look either the young man's stepfather nor his lover in the eye, his hands quivering as he attempts to divert the sudden tension that swims about the room like infectious congestion with the medigun hanging in the contraption off the ceiling.
"Why in the world would y'be afraid o'that, Doc?!" Jack begins calmly, his voice literally quivering as he struggles to maintainit so, however. "You sayin' I wouldn't be able to take care o'him?!"
"No, Jack, no," Heinrich groans, still avoiding the man's eye.
"What do you mean to say, 'Einrich?" Luc asks quietly of the doctor, a lot softer and less accusatory than his comrade. "I too would like to know why you fear my son would not make it 'ome,"
"'Nd if it's me," Jack growls, Heinrich roaring before slamming his hands on the metal table loudly, turning on his heels to glare wildly at the Australian.
"Have you heard of a hemorrhage, Jack?"
"What? Heinrich-" Jack starts, actually rising from his covers and tossing them off his lightly clothed frame. "'Course I heard of 'em, jus' 'cause I've never been t'medical school, that doesn't mean I'm completely clueless-why?" Sniper asks quickly, Heinrich's gloves sliding slickly across the German's increasingly sweaty hands. "What's one got t'do with anythin'?!"
"Jack-"
"Now you're wastin' my time, Doc, I don't understand what your problem is with me takin' Larry back t'Boston,"
"…Are you familiar viz hemorrhages?"
"Vaguely, now what's the problem-"
"Vell, judging by ze amount of abuse Lawrence had suffered under ze Administrator's vatch, I vas left to believe ze young man's head vas slammed repeatedly against a hard surface-presumably ze table she had him strapped to?"
"How d'you know anythin' about it?!"
"Luc, of course, he told me ze details of your injuries and torture as best he could recount; now vat I mentioned about Lawrence's abuse is a hypozesis of mine zat stems from various skull fractures found in his x-rays-"
"'Nd what's this got t'do with me gettin' Larry outta here?! I don't understand why the fuck it is y'don't trust me with 'im!"
"IT IS BECAUSE LAWRENCE IS SUFFERING FROM INTERNAL BLEEDING OF ZE BRAIN, AND ZEREFORE HAS TWO DAYS TO LIVE, IF HE IS EVEN ZAT LUCKY!" he screams so loudly Archimedes starts in his cage, squaking as opposed to cooing as usual, the metal dome swinging on its singular hinge like a gentle breeze flowing through the weightless notes of an ambient windchime. He rests his forehead in his hands, Jack stunned as the doctor's words hit him with a force so unexpected he feels his chest constrict as a few dumbfounded seconds replace his ability to breathe with a devastated shock in its wake. "Lawrence could hardly even speak ven I last voke him up!"
"Zhat is nonsense…" Luc starts, shifting his legs as a distinct physical awareness reminds the man he'd been standing in place for much too long. "Per'aps-per'aps you 'ave it all wrong-"
"RIGHT, BECAUSE WE HAVE ALL THE ROOM IN THE WORLD T'GUESS, EH?!" Jack screams, now standing at full height to glare at the two men who watch the flared Australian warily.
"LOOK AT YOU BOTH, NEITHER O'YOU GIVE A BLOODY SHIT! Y'TALK ABOUT HIS CONDITION JUST LIKE HER, THE WHOLE LOT O'YA! TOSS HIS BODY OUT FOR TUESDAY RUBBISH COLLECTION 'ND SHED A TEAR, EH? LITTLE LAWRENCE, THE BLU SCOUT, WE HARDLY KNEW YE-"
"Jack, please…"
"PLEASE NOTHIN', LUC, 'S CLEAR 'S DAY T'ME NEITHER OF YOU GIVE A FLYIN' TOSS ABOUT LAWRENCE-"
"Jack, zat is ridiculous and I vill not have you insult me in my own infirmary! Ze very notion zat Scout's condition or future means little to me is nozing short of a spit to my face!" Heinrich retorts in quick, angry hysteria, his German features glowing a smoldering, infuriated red, his cheeks filling with little puffs of nervousness in between each breath he takes.
"First y'take his bloody foot-"
"Jack, it was necessary, it would 'ave infected zhe rest of 'is body!"
"Then y'knock 'im out for a whole bloody three days straight, 'nd now y'wanna tell me he's hardly gonna be twenty five for a day before he-?!" Jack whimpers, throwing his hands wildly into the air.
"Jack, you act as if I haven't given you boz my all zis last veek, as if I haven't put my own life on ze line to ensure your protection and survival!"
"It's his birthday, Doc, it's his goddamn birthday,"
"…Zhis…." Luc begins quietly, producing a thin white letter from his chest, placing it softly onto the young man's beside table, Jack's heart sinking as his eyes instantly adjust to recognize Julie's looping cursive written about it's surface. "It was in my mailbox zhis morning,"
"And vat is it…?"
"A birzhday card, I would expect," Luc sighs. "From 'is mozher,"
"…and she knows nozing, correct? She has no idea vat has been going on…"
"She will certainly be expecting zhat Lawrence calls 'er tonight to accept 'er wishes in person,"
"'Nd y'don't even care, you all sound like you couldn't care less what happens t'Larry!"
"Lawrence is my life, Jack!" Luc gasps, his eyes wavering in their locked stare upon the checkered floor. "….'Is mozher, 'is brozhers, zhey all mean more to me zhan anyzhing in all of zhe world…and unfortunately for you you were unconscious during zhe last zhree days and nights I 'ave spent by Lawrence's side, watching over 'is condition every free moment I've had,"
"You are not ze only one who cares for Lawrence, Jack-ve all love him in our own vays-"
"Right, so y'butcher 'im, 'nd ya literally toss parts o'his body in the trash, 'nd just let his goddamn head bleed,"
"I did not let it bleed, Jack, and to say I do not understand your predicament is ignorant on all accounts, Jack Mundy! Did you not hear vat it vas I myself had to endure?! I know ze position you are boz standing in perhaps better zan any ozer individual on zis Earz!" Heinrich hisses, his eyes narrowed at Jack behind his glasses. "I vas separated from Mikhail, Jack; ve ran ze very same course as yourselves in an even more dangerous time and setting. I vas in love viz my enemy, he viz me. You had each ozer zrough vat just happened back zere. I vas sent to ride in an overcrowded boxcar for zree days, sent to ze biggest deaz camp German had established. I vas separated from him, Jack, and vas barely rescued in time! Did you not forget ze vay I suffered under ze same torture, but for monz, vizout ze support of ozers, or my love by my side, and vas discharged on my own vizout money or clozes, barely one hundred pounds, and did not know vezer or not Mikhail had even survived ze end of ze var?! I vas not reunited viz him until 1950, Jack, and here you are, viz Lawrence by your side, viz me fighting ze best I can to keep him alive! And you say I do not care, or understand vere you two are coming from? An insult," Heinrich spits, the Australian bowing his head shamefully as the German's voice tapers off coldly for five minutes' time.
"…Sorry, Doc, I-" Jack growls sheepishly, the German ignoring him before continuing directly. "Now I performed x-rays on him zree days ago, and ze procedure produced evidence of a fractured skull, as vell as ze images of potential bleeding,"
"P'tential?"
"Vell…" Heinrich begins, quieter and much less aggressive now it appears Jack is ready to listen. "As soon as I saw ze results of ze x-ray, I immediately ran anozer series of tests to better pinpoint vat could be wrong viz Lawrence's head,"
"Aye!"
"Z-zere is a chance, a slim chance, I could have it all wrong-"
"There isn't room for chance, Heinrich!" Jack pleads, the German's heart breaking as he sees that silent tears streak down the man's cheeks rapidly, moistening his rugged, bruised, unshaven face. "Not when my Larry's involved!"
"I am afraid I cannot go off much more-"
"You're a doctor, aren't you?!"
"It is not so simple, Jack! I have been agonizing over Lawrence's condition for ze past zree days! Ven I first began to run tests and analyses of his condition, I noticed ze internal bleeding right avay…"
"So why didn't you try t'stop it, Doc? You've got all these machines, this medicine, you've got the ability to heal gunshot wounds in two days-"
"I can only cure as quickly as my technology or research allows, Jack. I may be able to heal broken bones under a veek's proper care-zough Lawrence vill have to be discharged viz only zree days's vorz of treatment-but I cannot cure cancer. I can only go so far,"
"So then you're just givin' up on the most precious thing in my life,"
"Never, Jack. I vill never stop fighting for Lawrence, but unfortunately I do not have ze technology or capacity to treat such a vound outside of conventional mezods, and as you are vell avare, zere are no mezods,"
"I do not want to 'ave to tell 'is mozher…" Luc whimpers, a mourning scratch tearing at the even, smooth flow of the French influenced melody of his voice. "By God, 'Einrich, I do not want to 'ave to tell 'is mozher zhat 'e cannot come to zhe phone because 'e is dying!"
"Do not tell her he is dying, because as it is I do not know for sure if it is a brain hemorrhage under vich he suffers!"
"So then how far are we, Doc…" Jack's voice croaks, the man giving a heavy
sniff and bringing a hairy forearm to catch yet more falling tears into their thick, piliferous web. "Y'say there's potential for you t'have diagnosed him wrong, that he may not be dyin' at all; what's the deal, Heinrich,"
"Vell-ze tests I began zree days ago vere meant to determine vezer or not ze vounds to his head vere fatal or not. You see, ze results of ze x-rays zemselves vere too vague; it could eizer be bleeding, or a simple, but severe, concussion. Vere ze bleeding vould most certainly kill him, ze concussion vould certainly hinder him for some time, and I'm sure because of ze severity of head trauma he's endured im sure he vill come out of zis viz some form of a mental deficiency-not necessarilyretardation, but he vould be ginger viz his movements, his speech. He vould appear tired and drained, unable to handle or process much, but…"
"BUT?!" Jack roars, the Doctor's lip quivering before he answers.
"…But ze trauma vould not kill him,"
"Y'mean t'tell me that Larry's either sufferin' from a concussion or lethal internal bleedin' o'the brain…" Jack questions quietly overtop Luc's weighted sniffs, the Frenchman sobbing quietly into the palm of his large hand.
"I'd like t'know why the Hell you're havin' trouble determinin' a certain answer, mate,"
"Ze trouble comes from ze fact zat anozer series of tests I had begun zat very same zree days ago have yet to varrant complete results,"
"'Nd we ain't got time t'wait around t'figure out, we've got t'be outta here by tonight at the latest, Heinrich,"
"And so, viz Lawrence leaving ze bay early, you leave vizout ze results, and a fifty fifty chance of Lawrence surviving past tomorrow night at most,"
"So then it's a gamble, it's a literal gamble," Jack sighs, his swollen eyes still producing yet more tears from their salted ducts. "Bloody Hell,"
"Regardless, ve vill need Lawrence voken up sometime zis afternoon. Jack, if you feel it is ze right zing to do, you vill need to 'ead to Boston viz Lawrence by zis evening, especially if ze administrator expected you boz to be dead and gone ze day ve managed to escape her headquarters,"
"Aye…"
"Luc? Vat is your plan? Are you crying?" the German asks in fearful meekness, gasping slightly as his fellow middle aged peer produces a satin hankerchief from his breast pocket, dabbing his eyes lightly. "Well we are discussing zhe lifespan of who may as well be my son. But-ahem-I would like to say my goodbyes to 'im before zhey set off, as I'm sure you would,"
"Of course, who knows ven I vill see him again," Heinrich sighs, reflecting on the thought for a few seconds' time before catching his breath. "So you are staying behind, I take it?"
"I 'ave no choice," Luc whispers.
"What d'you mean goodbyes, mate," Jack growls, the two men only just now noticing the Australian stands at the side of the young man's bed, his wrapped hand caught in a gentle encompassment of Jack's own undamaged palms.
"Well if you two are leaving tonight, and I am still expected to remain on base as an employee of RED, zhen I will not see Lawrence again until zhe next time I am granted leave," Luc hisses firmly, a light shudder trailing down Jack's spine, registering that the man's words imply that Lawrence was live until then.
"…Zherefore I want to tell 'im to stay safe and zhat I will see 'im soon for presumably zhe Zhanksgiving 'oliday and 'ope zhat zhis particular celebration will prove to be more positive zhan zhose we 'ad shared togezher in zhe past; I am certain you can understand where I am coming from,"
"Right," Jack nods, forcing himself to smile smally as he tucks a hand to cradle Lawrence's cheek. "I reckon the two o'ya 're gonna share a holiday right special after all this."
-
"Hm?" Jack asks the young man he holds in his arms quietly, Lawrence blinking slowly as he grabs hold of the small wicker basket that rests calmly at the tips of their feet, Sniper going to assist him in lifting the flap and producing for him another generous handful of cracked wheat bread that had begun to go sour during his days away from the camper. Scout rattles the small, irregular clusters of deep brown fluff in the basin of his hand, small molecules of hearthened yeast catching in the folds of the fresh wrappings Heinrich had applied before the two had set off for Boston some time ago. Jack presses his lips against Scout's cheek, Lawrence smiling into the gesture with the radiance of pristine linens doused in parfoumy silks. Simultaneous to the Australian's loving peck is also the snaking of his hand and its subtle clasp around Lawrence's wrist, the Bostonian leaning all of his weight against Jack with a firmness that proved to be just as weightless as it was impactful in its imprint against the man's chest.
The fresh air had done them both some good. Lawrence had been resting for seven hours straight, a natural sleep, one without the aid of Heinrich's medigun. Jack, who simply found he couldn't handle the seclusion of driving any longer, had been surprised to enter the camper and find Lawrence sitting up sluggishly in the sea of blankets Jack had prepared for him, calling the Australian's name softly. They'd exchanged words of missing each other, and agreed on a break, the drive having taken a toll on the two injured men and their wayward trek toward Boston. He figured it was okay to stop there, somewhere between the border of Missouri and Illinois, and rest a bit along the edge of a moderately sized lake nestled in the nature that ran along side the freeway. At the very least Lawrence seemed supportive himself, having instantly spotted frogs and ducks carrying on as marine life was wont to do, ducks being his favourite animal and a glaring weakness of his.
Jack winces as, hand in hand, the man lifts his arm gingerly to extend Lawrence's before them both like a tenuous catapult, Jack's stomach fluttering as his thumb brushes across the soft flesh of Lawrence's fingers. His shoulder twinges, the appendage having once housed two identically fateful bullets in small burrows of sinewy muscle, overworked by the gesture, Sniper pressing it to work further regardless.
"One, two, three…" Jack counts off softly in Lawrence's ear, the spoken numbers a gentle flutter of warm air that causes Lawrence to smile smally as he feels the breath glide across the outer rim of his ear before swirling into its depth hotly, the words disappearing within them, leaving behind no trace. They fling the crumbs into the air, Jack watching as they pirouette into the brine, the lake's surface rippling as the soggy bread sits for only a second before three peeping ducklings protrude slowly from the cluster of reeds and lily pads near the other end of the bank.
"See? Look, love, here they come," Jack grins, Lawrence smiling as well as he watches the feeding babies, a mother mallard quacking her way into the throng and drilling her bill to nip at the dark brown surface of the water.
"Oi, le's toss in a little more, what d'you say?"
Scout nods, throwing in the completely hardened crust, once again with Jack's help, the young man going to bring his hand-the only hand he can move, for the over arm rests in a lightweight cast-to rest in Jack's again, the man curling his fingers down to lace themselves with his. Jack jumps and laughs as a life like, startling quack slips from Lawrence's lips, the young man catching the Mallard's attention with a perfect duck call of his own.
Jack's other hand curls along Scout's cheek, the other snaking around his abdomen, a careful though constricting tug of his body causing Lawrence to fall closer against the man that holds him-Lawrence wasting no time in nuzzling closer against him.
"What d'you reckon, we should get back on the road, eh?" Jack whispers, though not too keen on the idea of leaving the young man behind in the camper by his lonesome whilst Jack remained in the van proper, speeding his way across the country in an attempt to reach Boston in a day or less. Scout shakes his head no before yawning, twisting as best he can to better support his attempt to curl in Sniper's arms and lap.
"We ain't gotta go so fast."
Lawrence's mumbled words jumble into unintelligible grunts, the young man barely moving his lips, which remain pressed against Jack's collarbone. He had a point, Jack contemplates, the sun only just now beginning to set. Shifting his leg to better support him, Jack thinks nothing of the moist earth that smears itself into the fabric of his slacks, his eyes too focused on the circling ducklings, who wade the water's edge in hopes that their onlookers spare yet more of the divine feast given unto them.
A shiny glint catches his eye as Sniper turns his head a specific way, the metal of the wheelchair's handle left at the bottom of the small hill catching the light of the sun in a brief fit of blindness. Lawrence didn't seem to mind the chair, and for that he was glad.
"You know, Jack, this is one of the chillest birthdays I've had in a long ass time," he laughs, relying on the causality of his swears to feign normalcy where his condition and physical weakness could not. "Even if I'm missin' a foot,"
Jack smiles, for his sake, despite not quite having come to terms with Lawrence's maladies himself. He holds his tired, grizzly smile, eyes parallel over the edge of the water, the men allowing a whole ten minutes to pass between them before Jack notices with a start the Scout had fallen asleep again. They were Heinrich's last words to Jack, after the extensive goodbyes they'd all shared in each other's company.
"Do not let him fall asleep, unless you can live viz ze possibility of him never vaking up again,"
Jack sighs heavily, curling his arms around the young man, kissing him gently and muttering a tired "love you" in his ear, Lawrence echoing the words back before drifting into a gentle sleep. The route to Boston was long, and far from even halfway over, but he would still attempt the distance. Whether Lawrence was to wake to see the skyline from the window or not, Jack reasons as he presses his lips against the young man's forehead, he would love him all the same.