Clinch: Chapter Five
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That strapped up and splinted hand stood out like a sore thumb.
No pun intended.
It stood out like a splotch of ink on paper. As much as Mike hated looking at it, he couldn't stop. That hand—well, all of the kid's injuries—signified just how much Mike wasn't there for his son. No one was there for him, honestly. If they'd paid more attention to Brandon as they had the other kids, maybe they could've kept him out of trouble.
Too late now.
Mike sat in the stupid little plastic chair next to Brandon's bed, holding his hand, and looking into his son's bruised and beaten face—which had been rendered peaceful-looking by the sedative.
There were many reasons why the doctors had kept Brandon knocked out for so long.
Reconstructive hand surgery was not something to take lightly. It was a serious procedure that literally pieced your hand back together, one bone at a time. The hand is a sensitive appendage, and a severe injury to it would come with agonizing pain that lasted for days on end. Sedation granted you obliviousness to the absolute worst of the pain.
They'd also kept him drugged up for so long to prevent unnecessary movement from his dislocated jawbone. Not to mention, his body desperately needed the rest after all it had gone through.
But there were also the psychological aspects. Going through everything Brandon had underwent in the past month and half, being so brutally beaten that you fell unconscious, and then having to find out you might never be able to do the thing you're most passionate about, ever again? Being unaware of your surroundings seemed like a nice, peaceful getaway from current predicaments. Sedation seemed like a blessing.
Mike wished he could keep Brandon peaceful for just a little bit longer.
In just one measly little hour, they were taking Brandon off the sedative.
But, I mean, he wouldn't be 'all there' when he woke up. He'd be exhausted and dazed and loopy. Brandon wouldn't have to face any reality until that medicine crap wore off.
Until.
Exhausted and Drugged-Up Brandon would stall Devastated and Depressed Brandon for a while. And Mike was grateful. Because finding out about the whole piano fiasco would be the thing that sent Brandon completely over the edge, Mike was convinced.
Mike glared at his son's mutilated hand, waves of both sorrow and anger rippling through him.
"I'm really sorry, B." He sighed, rubbing his thumb gently over Brandon's free hand.
Mike remembered that there was good news to the seemingly never-ending black hole of bad luck they were trapped in.
There were security cameras outside of his apartment building.
At first, he'd wanted to slap himself for not thinking of it sooner.
He could find a way to get a hold of that footage. Hell, he could do it in an hour. He was a cop, wasn't he?
'But not a very good one,' He thought darkly.
Mike almost called Stef and Lena to tell them the news. But they needed to take care of themselves. They needed to be with the kids. Mike was surprised they'd actually stayed home for this long. He would tell them when they got here. In fact, they'd be here any minute.
He warily eyed all the tubes and bandages that seemed to be burying his son alive.
"A lot's happened, buddy," He sighed, stroking Brandon's forehead, being mindful of the stitches. "But we're gonna fix it, alright? We're gonna get you back on track. I promise."
"Jesus, stop poking your sister."
"I'm not!"
"No yelling, young man. We're in the comatose hallway." Lena scolded, she and Stef trying to haul their kids through the hospital.
"They're in comas. Don't they want someone to wake them up?"
"Enough, we're almost there."
Stef and Lena had brought the kids along to see Brandon. They'd wanted to bring them when Brandon was less critical and more conscious, but the kids insisted they go.
Once they reached the waiting room, Stef and Lena turned to face the kids. Jesus had already flopped down in a seat.
"Okay, guys," Lena began. "Brandon's not awake right now. They're going to take him off the medicine in about an hour."
"Still," Stef added. "He won't be able to talk to you. He'll be pretty out of it, alright?"
"That; and his jawbone's dislocated." Lena mumbled.
"Yes," Stef sighed. "Just be gentle, be careful, be quiet. This is only the second time he'll be awake. And he probably won't even remember the first time."
"Gotcha," Mariana said.
"Is he gonna be okay?" Jude asked.
Lena pulled him into a hug and kissed his forehead. "In time, he'll be just fine, honey."
The door to Brandon's hospital room creaked open, and a weary-looking Mike emerged into the waiting room.
"Mi-i-ike, my man!" Jesus shouted.
"Jesus," Lena hissed.
"Hey," Mike greeted quietly. "Did you guys take care of yourselves?"
"Yes, Mother." Stef tiredly teased. "How is he?"
"He's running a little fever. Doctors aren't worried about it, though." Mike looked over at the kids, and then gently motioned for Stef and Lena to follow him.
Once they were away from the kids, Mike began. "I have a way to find out who did it."
"Enlighten us."
"There are security cameras outside my apartment building. They just happen to be right above where Brandon's car is parked."
Stef and Lena's heads snapped up.
"If I can get a hold of the footage from that night, I think that'll be all the evidence we need. Captain can take care of the rest." He continued.
"Are you sure you'll be able to even get to the cameras?" Lena finally asked.
"I mean, I'm a cop. The apartment building can't refuse me evidence."
"How will you be able to identify anyone with those cameras—especially at night?"
"Those things are high-def. And if that's not enough, the police station can adjust the picture quality. This is gonna work."
"We already have a report on file, too. We'd just have to get the okay from Captain." Stef added.
"Well," Lena leaned against the wall. "When do we start?"
"I could go now, if you want." Mike offered.
"You don't want to be here when Brandon wakes up?" Lena asked him, incredulously.
"I do," He defended. "But wouldn't you rather get this done as soon as possible? You know what; it's up to you guys. You decide."
"I'll go with you." Stef said to Mike.
"Are you kidding?" Lena snapped.
"Lena, it needs to be done," Stef told her gently. "And two cops are better than one."
"He's going to be awake in less than an hour, and you're not even going to be here."
"Well, in all fairness—" Mike began, but was stopped by Lena's deathly glare.
"As much as I want to see his eyes open as soon as possible, they won't be open until hours after he's taken off the meds. It's a process, Lena. This is the perfect opportunity to get it done." Stef assured.
"Alright, fine, go. Go play CSI." Lena waved them off.
"Lena—"
"No, really," Lena half-smiled. "You're right. Go hop into your Mystery Machine and foil the bad guy. But you better be back in a timely fashion."
"Jinkies," Stef smiled, and kissed her wife. "We'll be back faster than Brandon can open the eye that's not swollen shut."
Mike smiled tiredly, and held the door open for Stef. "We'll be back."
"Alright. Let's split up, gang." Lena joked.
"Would you do it for a Scooby Snack?" Mike tried.
"And you ruined it."
Hours later, Lena, Jesus, Mariana, Callie, and Jude surrounded a barely-awake Brandon lying in his hospital bed.
"Hey, honey," Lena said gently, stroking his hand. "Don't try to talk, okay? Just relax."
Brandon blinked blearily in her direction, and his head slowly lolled to the side.
The doorknob was fumbled with from the other side, and the door creaked open, revealing a frazzled, but satisfied-looking Stef and Mike.
"He literally just opened his eye less than a minute ago," Lena informed them. "But still, you're late."
Stef smiled down at Brandon. "Hi, baby."
"We have news." Mike announced quietly, which was Lena's cue to follow them.
Lena kissed Brandon on the forehead, and carefully followed Stef and Mike out the door.
"Well?" She asked.
"Everything went surprisingly well." Mike said.
"Captain gave us the warrant. The apartment building owner was extremely cooperative. We were able to get the footage back to the station." Stef added.
"And?" Lena was getting anxious.
"The crew at the station pulled up the recording—and while seeing how brutally Brandon was beat up will give us nightmares until we die—we were able to identify the attackers." Mike informed her.
"They zoomed in on the faces." Stef pursed her lips. "Two guys. One of which was unknown. But the other was definitely Vico, and the station is already chasing down his ass."