Chapter 14

"I should never have let him." Sandra Maldonado's eyes were red rimmed and she hugged her arms across her chest. She quite often stood with her arms crossed, but it had always been a sign of her no-nonsense persona, now it just made her look small and a little lost. Dorian sidled up to her and followed her gaze, subconsciously mimicking her stance. He glanced down at the petite woman and thought about enveloping her in a hug, but he refrained, mostly because a little part of thing was thinking, 'no, you shouldn't have.'

They were stood in the dimly lit corridor of a hospital at night, staring through a half-shuttered window to their friend on the other side of the glass. John was asleep, technically still under anaesthesia from the operation on his hand, and yet even in deep medical induced unconsciousness, he'd managed to toss and turn, his sheets had fallen away exposing the gown that covered his chest and had become twisted around the stump of his right thigh.

It had taken Dorian a long amount of time to come to an understanding about John's leg and the way the synthetic part impacted on him. As a DRN, it was so natural to need parts changed through damage, that it was second nature. In fact, sometimes it was an upgrade, and that would spark in him a feeling not unlike a kid at Christmas who had just got a cool new toy. John's leg, for a long time in Dorian's mind, was an upgrade. It made him faster and stronger and the fact that John clearly resented it so much, in a way hurt Dorian too because he saw it as an indictment of Dorian's very existence. John had kept up the bravado, the sarcasm and the surliness so well that it was only in moments like this, when he saw John for who he really was, a worn out and haunted man whose life had been torn violently away, wounding him irreparably. The question now, was how many times could one man be torn apart, before they stop being who they once were.

They stood in silence a while, each in their own contemplation, until Valerie and Paul slid up to them and two watchers became four. "They said physically he's gonna be fine." Paul said, his hands in his suit pockets. "They were able to realign all the bones in his hand, and the knife wound wasn't as bad as they expected." This was not news to anyone, the four of them had sat together an hour ago, cramped into a small doctor's office while they were told the news, it was a reminder, an attempt to calm some of the fraught nerves that they all had. "Come on," he then said gently to the Captain, "I'll take you and Valerie home."

"He shouldn't be alone when he wakes up." Maldonado said quietly.

"And he's not going to be, Dorian you're not going anywhere are you?" Paul said. Dorian shook his head in response. "Good man." Paul continued, giving the android a quick clap on the arm. "We'll be back in the morning."

And with that, the three humans left. Dorian rarely got moments to himself, and this one, with all that had gone on, almost threatened to overwhelm him. But at the same time, he realised he needed the space to order his thoughts, so it was with relief he watched the three detectives walk down the hall, before he opened the door to John's room and let himself in.

The room was dark, save for the pale light that was still on over John's head, allowing the nursing staff to see him and the IV that was hung beside him, without disturbing him. The light made his face too gaunt, and highlighted the bruises that were hidden beneath his unruly facial hair. Dorian decided he would offer to help the man shave in the morning, convinced that once he looked more like his usual self then he'd start to feel it again. It would take a lot more than that, Dorian knew, when he'd found his partner in that place and scooped him into his arms, it was more like finding a hurt and abandoned puppy than a human being.

Dorian moved to tuck his partner in, rearranging the bedsheets so that his hands were folded neatly over the thin blanket, one arm in a cast, held together with screws beneath the skin, the other, trailing a line of fluids and painkillers from a cannula at his wrist. He knew John would be mortified if he was caught being tucked in like a child, but he also knew he wouldn't want his leg to be on show.

He'd hoped his ministrations would have stirred the man, but they didn't. So instead he went over to the floor to ceiling windows beyond the bed and stared out into the night. The hospital was one of the newer skyscrapers the city had to offer, and as a result it towered high above the rest of the city. John's room was on one of the higher floors and the view was nothing short of spectacular. Dorian could see most of the city sprawled out before him, the white lights of buildings, the warmer glow of the streetlights, the neon signs of downtown and the red lines of traffic despite the lateness of the hour. Cutting through it all was the dark, sinister presence of The Wall, topped with searchlights, it provided an abrupt stop to the lights, as though everything beyond it was a void, that was once a part of something but had been destroyed, gone but still causing an ugly scar on the landscape. Dorian thought of the wall, and then he thought of John's leg.

His attention was drawn to little pockets of blue and red flashing lights, that had gathered in three different areas of downtown and along the lake. If he zoomed in his sensors, he could pick up on the radio chatter from each incident, the small collections of police vehicles, not normally what someone would associate with a feeling of calm, but here it did. They were the last remnants of the raids that had taken place all over the city, from the moment of that crackly phone call from inside the prison. Dorian checked the reports, 96 women and young girls had been rescued, almost all the ringleaders were believed to be in custody. It had been a good result, no matter how you looked at it, but Dorian knew he was yet to understand what price had been paid.

He stood at the window a long time, listening to the police scanner as weary officers congratulated themselves on a job well done and headed home for the night. They had pulled off a massive feat that was already starting to be the headline of every news feed, and Dorian was proud of them, but it was bittersweet, knowing that the man responsible for it all was laying broken beside him.

Eventually, there was a noise from the bed, making Dorian whip round and rush to his friend's side. He took the seat beside the bed and laid a hand on John's arm, stroking his thumb over the man's skin soothingly. Suddenly the noise, which at first had been a faint whimper, turned into a loud keening, a completely animal noise coming from John's throat. He thrashed in the bed, finding the cannula in his arm and fumbling to tear it out. Thankfully, the clumsiness of his broken hand made it impossible and Dorian was able to snag it away from him before he caused any damage. Dorian sat on the side of John's bed and pulled the man into his arms. The noise subsided, as though some part of John had realised it was him, and had shut it off with a strangled sob. His thrashing didn't stop though, and he kept trying to twist away out of Dorian's grip, shoving and punching to try to get to the cannula in his arm and pull it free.

"Get it off me, get it off me." He snarled, viciously, with a punch to Dorian jaw that might have broken it, had he been human.

"John!" Dorian pleaded, refusing to give up the struggle but worried that the man was going to further injure himself. "It's me, Dorian. You're in the hospital, you're safe."

"Get it out, no more drugs!" He screamed, forcing Dorian back. It was enough for three nurses to come running and burst into the room. Dorian ignored them and held fast. He dreaded to think the kind of damage John could do to the well meaning staff in his current state.

"No more drugs!" Dorian agreed. "It's just fluids to help you hydrate. You're safe here, I've got you." He stroked the man's hair, it was damp with sweat.

"You're not real." John argued quietly, his sudden manic energy draining away. Sadly, Dorian realised, it wasn't that John had realised he was safe, so much that he seemed suddenly too tired to fight it. "You're not real," he whispered over and over, his throat raw. He still beat at Dorian's chest, but it was without energy, and then his voice cracked completely and he sobbed.

Dorian felt utterly helpless as he cradled his partner to his chest, stroking his hair as the vibrations of his shuddering tears wrecked them both. "I'm real John, I'm real."

And then, if Dorian's heart wasn't already breaking enough, John muttered "I'm so sorry Marty, I'm so sorry."

"I'm not Marty, I'm Dorian..." he started to say, but John wasn't listening.

His voice was so quiet and broken, as he mumbled into Dorian's shoulder, that he had to adjust his audio-parameters to hear.

"It should have been me, it was my raid, my decision. I should've gotten you out there and home to your family, if it was the last thing I'd done. I'm sorry there's nothing I can do now, it's too late, I know why you hate me, it's the least I deserve."

"Hey, John, no one hates you." Dorian said, continuing to stroke his friend's hair, desperate to get this one sentiment through to the distraught human. "I don't hate you."

He lost track of how many times he said it, repeating the litany over and over. He wasn't even sure when the nurses had left, having made the decision that Dorian had the situation handled. Dorian wasn't convinced that he was handling it very well, at times he was sure he'd gotten through the heavy mental barriers that John had put up, and then just when Dorian was sure that he was coming round, the detective would say something that would prove that he still thought he was talking to his dead partner.

Eventually, the injured man seemed to wear himself out, so much so that when a nurse crept in and injected a sedative into his IV, he didn't even notice. After a minute, he settled into a restless sleep and Dorian was able to lay him back against the pillows.

"The drugs in his system," the nurse said softly, just behind him, "they're more potent than anything I've seen before. He's going to have a tough time coming out of it, but you were just what he needed. Keep doing what you're doing and he'll be fine."

Dorian smiled at her sadly.

"This sort of thing isn't easy on friends either, so if you need to talk you can always come and find me."

"I'm grateful." Dorian managed, although he couldn't find the energy to reflect the sentiment in his tone.

By the time John stirred again, the sun was just starting to rise through the window, splashing the sky with a crisp blue, clouds highlighting with orange. It was going to be a beautiful day, if a cold one.

Dorian was sat in his chair pulled up to the bed, his hand resting lightly on John's arm while he conserved power. But he was instantly alert when John shifted under his grasp.

John's first move had been somewhat predictably, to go for the IV, he brought his broken hand over to grab at it but stopped when he saw that he was no longer attached, and that he had Dorian's hand casually protecting the cannula. Dorian and John's eyes met for a second, but then John flung the blankets off himself and swung his legs round. There was another beat as he realised that he didn't have his prosthetic, but urgency pushed him to stand anyway. Dorian was there in an instant, wrapping the weakened man's arm over his shoulder and guiding him to the only destination that would require so much panic.

Once in the small en suite bathroom, John braced his hands against the wall and glared at the android. "Get out Dorian." He said through gritted teeth, with enough venom that he was obeyed. Dorian stepped back and closed the door, intending to burst in if it sounded like he was needed, but there was a click and he realised that John had found time to lock him out, before the sounds came of him retching into the toilet bowl.

Dorian waited helplessly for a long time, before eventually the lock clicked again and the door swung ajar. Dorian opened it wider to find John sat on the floor, looking pale and clammy and utterly exhausted. Dorian surmised that the human had tried to use the door to pull himself up but had failed. He thought it best to not say anything as he scooped the human up and carried him back to bed. The fact that there were no protests at the action, spoke more than words ever could.

Once John was back under the sheets he gazed sorrowfully at Dorian with bloodshot, sunken eyes. "I'm going to need my leg." He pointed out wearily.

Dorian nodded, "it's being charged, I'll bring it as soon as it's done."

John nodded and they fell into an awkward silence.

"It worked you know!" Dorian said, hoping the news could cheer him up. "We found the accountant your cellie gave, lead us to five addresses. 93 young women rescued. 17 in custody." Three of the women had been found so ill that they'd died overnight, but John didn't need to know this right now. "You saved a lot of lives yesterday John."

John nodded again, he gave a thin lipped smile, but appeared to be fighting back tears. That wasn't the reaction that Dorian had hoped for at all, so he sat on the edge of John's bed and pulled him up into a hug. Exhausted, John let him, and even wrapped his arms loosely around the android's back as he took deep breaths to compose himself.

When the human pulled away, it was as though he'd gotten the mask he always wore back into place. It was a pale and sunken version of his usual self but at least it was recognisable. "I nearly blew it." He admitted.

"You couldn't have predicted they'd riot, or that anyone would have access to that kind of tech."

John shook his head. "No, but if I'd gotten my head out of my ass sooner I might have managed to build up a rapport."

"I wish you'd told me what you were doing." Dorian said sadly.

"I couldn't."

The choice of word was telling. Dorian had been hoping for 'I wanted to', had been prepared to listen to the reasons why despite John's burning need to tell his best friend, he was unable. 'I couldn't' was subtly different, there was no conflict, no need to share. It was a choice of word that hurt Dorian more than he'd care to admit.

"Maldonado and I have been convinced for some time there's a mole. We still haven't found it. And if they'd gotten hold of you, there would have been files, video proof, we just couldn't."

Dorian nodded sadly.

John was suddenly struck with something and grabbed Dorian's arm in a panic. "The device! It wasn't Vincent's idea. Someone else put it there..."

Dorian grabbed his arm too, to calm him down. "We know. You were mumbling about it when we rescued you last night. It makes sense, Vincent makes a lot of money but he's not the kind of guy who uses advanced tech. We think you're right, it was a test for something bigger."

"But what though? Or who? InSyndicate?"

"Perhaps. We don't know yet. But we're looking into it."

John nodded and fell back against the sheets, taking a deep breath, but it didn't last, surging out of bed again despite the fact the sudden movement was clearly making his head spin. Dorian helped him to the bathroom again, he wasn't locked out this time but he allowed John his privacy as his body tried to purge the drugs from his system. Dorian waited for him patiently and thought about going back down to that prison and shooting every single one of them that had hurt his friend.