"I am so sorry."
The words were whispered, but Ophelia heard them as she attempted to open her eyes. Still swollen and tight, they ached terribly as the dim lamp light pierced them. She didn't know how long she'd slept, nor did she remember exactly what happened, but she knew agony when she felt it, and her entire body screamed in pain. Carefully, she turned her head and focused on the voice by her side.
"Lucius," she croaked. A faint smile lit up her still swollen features. His green eyes lit up at the sound of his name. He couldn't believe what he'd done. It'd been a long time since he'd turned to violence, but when Opie appeared to be leaving, everything within him snapped. He never intended on hurting her; that had never been the plan. The plan was to apologize and beg forgiveness. Lucius had never once thought about what would happen if Ophelia turned away from his advances. He had never mastered being shut down, never mastered being ignored. It infuriated him.
"Hey there," he murmured back. He gently grasped her hand and brought it to his lips. To his surprise, she didn't recoil from his touch. Instead, she closed her eyes, content in the sensation of his lips on her skin. "I was wondering when you would come back to us."
"Where have I been?" Ophelia innocently asked. Her chest was tight as she tried to inhale; that's when she noticed the oxygen. The double-pronged tube pushed cold air into her nose. The IV made its presence known as she tried to lift her hand. As her eyes fully focused, she expected to see hospital walls staring back at her. Instead, she saw shimmering mahogany walls. The room was dark, and Opie had no idea if it was day or night, but it didn't matter. The slightest movement caused immeasurable pain, causing her eyes to tear.
"Are you hurting?" Lucius asked. Even as she nodded, he was on his feet, fiddling with the massive computerized medicine pump attached to her IV pole. Without a word, he pushed the buttons as Opie watched, and within seconds, she could feel sweet relief.
"Whatever that is," she whispered, "Keep it coming."
"Morphine," Lucius said. "Damned good pain killer, from what I understand." Ophelia smiled weakly, simply grateful for the release.
"Where am I?" she asked. "What happened?" Lucius blinked, hesitant to answer. Do you really remember nothing? He gently grasped her hand. How did I get that lucky?
"What do you remember?" he asked. Better to have her relay her truth than try to create one, he thought. I'll fill in the blanks once I know.
"I remember leaving the hospital," she sleepily replied. "I was coming to see you."
"That's the last thing you recall?" he questioned. She closed her eyes, searching for the answers he sought. She saw the sunset. Beautiful hues of red, purple, and blue stretched across the horizon. The windows were down, and her beautiful copper curls flew in the breeze.
Don't ask me / What you know is true / Don't have to tell you / I love your precious heart—Tara's favorite INXS song played on Opie's radio. She sang along as she barreled down the highway. I / I was standing / You were there / Two worlds collided / And they could never tear us apart—
As the image ebbed away, Opie realized that's where the memory ended. Her brow knitted in confusion.
"You really don't remember, do you?" Lucius was dumbstruck by his good fortune. She shook her head slightly, but even that motion made her dizzy. She closed her eyes and let the nausea overcome her.
"I feel sick," she mumbled. Again, Lucius was on his feet. This time, he grabbed two vials and two syringes. Opie watched in confusion as he drew from each vial. "What are you doing?"
"Giving you anti-nausea medicine," he said calmly. There was no hesitation. "The Morphine will tear your stomach up. I'm giving you Phenergan. It'll curb the sick feeling."
"Since when are you a nurse?" Opie's sleepy eyes darted around the beautifully appointed room. The walls were dark, as was the furniture. She noticed the chair at the bedside—it was a massive black leather recliner. Opie knew she wasn't in a hospital, but she didn't know where the hell she was.
"You've been out for a long time, Op," Lucius said. It had been almost two weeks since he'd come within inches of killing her. "I didn't want anyone else caring for you. I watched the nurses. They taught me what to do. I've been watching your meds with their help. You're in good hands, trust me."
Lucius carefully grabbed her arm. Opie, unable to really think, much less question or fight, watched, fascinated. He attached the first syringe to the IV port.
"This is just saline," Lucius explained. "The Phenergan burns like a sonofabitch, so we flush before and after the dose."
Opie knew enough about the medical field to know that Lucius wasn't supposed to be dosing her. She also knew that no nurse would ever allow a laymen to administer meds. Hesitation and doubt flooded her brain as Lucius removed the saline syringe and attached the Phenergan.
"This is going to burn babe," he warned. "I'm going to go slow." The Morphine had made her eyelids droop slightly, but she fought against it.
"Damn," she was breathless as the horrible burning ache took effect. Her hand was on fire. Despite her numerous injuries, the pain from the Phenergan was awful. She exhaled in an attempt to stay calm.
"Shh," Lucius whispered. "It's almost over." He removed the Phenergan and reattached the saline syringe, flushing the IV again. To Ophelia's relief, the savage ache subsided.
"Wha—what happened to me?" she drowsily questioned. "Where am I?"
"You were in an accident," Lucius smoothly lied. "The police said you were run off the road just outside your parents' house."
That doesn't make sense, Opie thought, but her mind was in a drug-induced haze. She had no energy to question or argue. She just accepted what Lucius said.
"But—"
"Your parents showed up at the house," he continued. "They were worried. They didn't know where you were. I was waiting for you."
"Did Daddy try to kill you?" she lazily drawled. "Is that where the shiner came from?" Lucius gingerly touched the bruise beneath his eye. That's a different story altogether. Instead of volunteering information, he focused on Opie's face. The Phenergan had mixed with the Morphine, leaving Ophelia happily exhausted and pain-free. The nausea subsided. Her blue eyes, still somewhat swollen, were bleary as she stared at him.
"He wanted to," Lucius stated, sidestepping the full truth. He knew that wasn't a lie. He knew that, if Jax Teller found him, he'd be as good as dead. The plan was to leave the United States before that could happen. Lucius stared at Ophelia. What a fucking mistake I made, he thought. I almost blew everything.
"Why didn't he?" Opie questioned. She didn't remember their conversation. She still wondered why he disappeared. To her, she was still wondering why Lucius, who professed to love her so deeply, just disappeared. The hurt of it was dulled by the drugs, but her mind, ever bright and constantly seeking truth, screamed at her to pay attention. Lucius' drug cocktail was stronger. It was winning.
"The cops saved my ass," he murmured. "They showed up just after Jax and Tara did. They were there to notify someone about you."
Why wouldn't they go to the hospital? Opie's mind sluggishly demanded. Or the cabin? Why the house? Again, the story didn't add up, but again, the drugs jumbled everything anyway.
"How did I get here?" Opie asked. Her voice was thick with narcotics. "Just where am I, exactly?"
Lucius' heart pounded. Even in her broken state, she was still able to discern fact from fiction. I have to tell her the truth, he thought. She's going to know I am lying anyway, right? Lucius watched Ophelia's eyes as they slowly closed.
"I mean—" she whispered as she drifted off to sleep. Lucius breathed a sigh of relief as she drifted off into a drug-induced stupor. He sat heavily on the large, black recliner and placed his face in his hands.
This is my fault. All my fucking fault. The words played on repeat as he heard the door unlatch. He didn't even look up. The sound of cowboy boots hitting the hardwood floor barely echoed.
"Do you always fucking tiptoe?" Lucius asked. Looking up, he caught the black matte metal of a 9mm and the glimmer of a badge.
"God, she looks like Trinity." Jack Petty's voice was as gentle as his footsteps. Dressed in his all black uniform, his boots were merely a fascinating accessory. Lucius wondered if the footwear was even allowed, but given Jack's long affiliation with the Silver Spring PD, Lucius knew that no one gave a damn about the officer's fashion choices. "How is she doing?"
"She woke up." Lucius' voice was shaky as he spoke. He hadn't really expected her to ask any questions. He'd never been good at making shit up on the fly; the lies he'd grown accustomed to telling had been fed to him, and the stories were perfectly rehearsed. Every move he'd made since arriving in Silver Spring, since interviewing with Jax Teller, had been expertly choreographed.
"Did she remember anything?" Petty asked.
"No," Lucius answered.
"You're fucking lucky," the officer plainly stated. "Lucky I didn't fucking kill you. This wasn't part of the plan, man."
"I know," Lucius replied. His fingers tapped impatiently at his leg. His jaw was clenched in annoyance as his beautiful green eyes flashed in the older man's direction. "I've heard this lecture a million times. How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?"
Lucius' answer came by way of Jack Petty's 9mm being pointed at his head. He could feel the cold metal of the barrel against his temple, and he choked back the remaining words.
"As many times as it takes," Petty fired back. "Unless you want to fucking die."
"I—I'm sorry," Lucius stammered. His hands now gripped supple leather. "I didn't mean any disrespect, Jack. I didn't. I feel horrible for what happened."
"You have quite the mouth, considering everything I have done for you," Jack said. He didn't move a muscle as spoke. The gun was still pressed tight against his soft flesh. "You wouldn't even be alive if it weren't for me. You'd still be in that goddamned orphanage if I hadn't intervened."
Lucius closed his eyes. He knew he'd struck a nerve. Jack managed to keep his Irish brogue in check the vast majority of the time; it had impressed Lucius on many occasions; however, extreme emotion brought it back in full force. It didn't matter if Jack was happy or angry, if it pulled at his heartstrings enough, the Irish was thick.
Even in his precarious life or death situation, Lucius marveled at how easy it was for the older man to switch back and forth. It had taken Lucius a straight year of elocution lessons to get his American sound right. He'd never gone back to the Gaelic lilt; he knew it would blow his cover, because he simply couldn't go between the two.
"I know, Jack, I know," Lucius said. He was trying to keep his voice from cracking. "I'm sorry. I just hate fucking up, and Opie was a giant fuck up. I know how bad this is."
Jack lowered the gun. Lucius couldn't help the relieved tears that fell down his face. Guilt was a heavy thing to bear. He hated himself for beating Ophelia, and that hatred led him to mouth off to Jack, the one man who cared for him when no one else did. His brilliant peridot eyes blinked heavily as he looked at Jack. Regardless of everything, Lucius considered Jack the father he'd never had.
"Nothing has been done that cannot be undone," Jack whispered. Deep down, he loved the kid. It was times like these where Jack couldn't help but remember the kid he'd first encountered. If he closed his eyes, he saw Lucius, all of five years old, staring helplessly up at him. He sighed and placed a reassuring hand on Lucius shoulder. "I've got the Tellers covered for now. I've given leads that'll never amount to anything. That buys time while Opie heals. By then, we will know what to do about this unaccepted hiccup."
Lucius mutely nodded. The self-loathing was palpable as he focused his gaze on Ophelia's heavily drugged form.
"Until then, keep Ophelia as drugged as you can," Jack instructed. "We can't allow her to have a clear memory. It'll be the goddamned death of us. We can't afford any more fuck ups, Lucius. Next time—"
"There won't be a next time," Lucius brokenly stated.
"You don't know that," Jack replied, shoving his gun in his holster. "But know this: If there is a next time, you won't survive to make another mistake."
"I know." Lucius' voice was almost inaudible. "I know how long you've been working on this. We can't go back now—and I wouldn't, not even if I wanted to."
Lucius turned and looked up the old man. You saved my life. I won't let you down. I promise.
The faint smile that crossed Jack's lips gave Lucius the validation he needed. As he turned his eyes back to Ophelia, he knew that now, more than ever, he needed to focus. Eighteen years of planning and plotting and intel couldn't just be lost.
I have a second chance. I can't fuck this up. I have put way too much in to have it go south in the eleventh hour. At the end of the day, he knew he was doing the right thing. He realized that the end of this game would be the death of Jax and family, and he also realized exactly how much blood would be on his hands.
I can't allow this to break me. I have to return the favor, no matter what. Jack has put too much into me for this not to work. I have to stay with the plan. I have to make this work. Jack wouldn't have brought me here if he didn't believe me. I have to do this.
Jack didn't speak as he left the room. Once Lucius heard the door shut, he exhaled. Tears sprang to his eyes, and he let them fall; soon they turned to sobs. He couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if Fate hadn't intervened.
I'd be dead, he thought as he stood. Not that it matters, there's no surviving in this life. He knew that once his purpose was served, he would be cast aside. He went back to the IV pole, opened the case, and administered another small dose of Morphine.
That should keep her quiet. Closing the pump's lockable door, he cast one last glance on Opie. She was lost in peaceful dreams. He walked across the room, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway. Locking the door behind him, he knew that it wasn't just the Tellers' death that eminent, it was his as well.