Once Meg's work was done, she washed her hands and stepped out of triage to stretch her back and peek at the bruises forming on her hip. Joe was doing much better, able to string together simple sentences and move around, albeit both came slowly. Hovering outside of triage, a pile of gym bags beside him, was Randy.
"You know, you basically lied." He tried for a glare, but looked more exasperated than anything.
"I know. And you can be pissed at me. But he's fine. And it turns out, he really was with Dave."
"You're lucky."
"I know that, too."
Randy's face cracked into a smile as he slid past her towards the triage door. "Nah. You put staples in my head too many times. I can't be pissed at you. I know you fixed my boy up – but seriously, stop fucking calling me 'Sir.' I hate that."
"Fair enough. Stop fucking yelling at me, and you've got a deal."
Randy stopped short. "What did you say?"
"He's in triage. Are you driving him to the hotel? He's sure as shit not driving himself."
"Lady, you have balls."
"It's Meg. Sir."
Randy snorted, smiled, and walked in. He winced when he saw Joe's face – the swollen black eye was bad enough on its own, but the stitched gash glossy with anti-bac gel was stomach-churning.
"C'mon, Joe. I'm taking you to the hotel. Shit's packed, let's roll."
Dave cut in. "Are you staying with him? He's got to have monitoring for at least the next 12 hours, and he's got to be kept awake."
"Me? No. Uh, I think his fiancee is with him on this trip, she should be around to keep him up."
"I hate to be an ass, but think isn't gonna cut it on this one. I'm not blaming you, I'm blaming scripting, but he took a solid shot to the head. He absolutely needs to be monitored, it's not negotiable. And you should probably be the one to explain to him what happened. He has no memory of the match."
"Okay. I'll take care of that. She's around for the rest of it." Randy's voice flattened considerably at the notion of dealing with Joe's fiancee.
Meg stepped back into the room. "Does he have a phone?"
Everyone turned to look at her, with Randy speaking like she was a special sort of stupid.
"Of course he has a phone. Who doesn't have a phone?"
Meg rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time that night.
"Give it here. I'm going to put the triage phone's number in his address book under 'W.' If anything goes wrong, at least it's an option. Dave and I aren't at the same hotel as you guys, but we can come and help. All he has to do is press nine on his phone and then send."
Fifteen minutes later, Randy was alternating between growling and pleading into that same phone, trying to steer the car and say anything he could to get Joe's fiancee to come back from the club and stay at the hotel for the night. After a long back-and-forth, he finally handed the phone to Joe, who winced as the bass from the club's sound system drilled directly in his still-reeling brain.
"Please," he rasped, "Just come back for a little while."
"This was the night we agreed I could go out with the girls! It's not fair if you go back on that. You take bumps all the time, and you've had concussions before. You'll be fine, baby. You always are."
"Please. Just...please."
Randy winced. This was not like Joe. He never sounded desperate for anything, least of all for the company of someone who should have dropped everything, including her martini glass, and come running double-quick. Joe waved the phone haphazardly at Randy, who swerved slightly as he pressed it back up to his ear, sighing before he spoke.
"Look. It's not like he just fell or just got hit or something small. He's really out of it."
"Yeah, I get that. Like I said, I'm coming back. Bye."
The call cut off, and all Randy could do was roll his eyes and keep driving. Joe idly rubbed his lower lip where Meg had touched him with the lip balm and then the ice.. He felt guilty; he promised his fiancee a night out with her friends from the company and roster, and now was in the way of it. He should have been more careful; he and Randy had pulled off that move a thousand times before. 'Way to fuck up everyone's night, Joe. Get back to the hotel, go to bed, and make it up to her tomorrow. Maybe even tonight if the floor stops spinning. And way to act like a fool with Meg.'
Joe was met by his fiancee at the door to his room. Her face initially registered concern, but after Randy explained she would have to stay in for the rest of the night and keep him awake, concern changed to annoyance. Loud annoyance; Joe just wanted to lay down in a dark, quiet room and wish away the tilting, screeching remnants of the night. Instead, his fiancee argued with Randy and then told him to fuck off, followed by flicking on both lights over Joe's bed, sending him hurtling toward yet another bottomless pit of nausea.
"Baby, please. No. Turn them off?"
"Joe, come on. Is it that bad? So you got cut. And? Did something else happen?"
He tried to think. Randy explained it on the way to the car, and again in the car, and again on the way up to the room, but it was still hard to piece together in a way that made sense out loud.
"I...I don't know. I botched a move and when we hit, we..."
"Wait, you botched the move?" His fiancee was incredulous.
"I don't...maybe? I don't remember. We hit each other."
"Yeah, but you're the one who got hurt." At that, she threw air quotes around the word 'hurt,' and sprang off the end of the bed. The alcohol in her system and the now-bouncing bed weren't helping things.
"Okay...baby, I don't know. I'm sorry. Just go back out, I'll be okay. Like you said."
"You mean it?" Her surprise was laced with caution.
"Yeah. I'll be fine. I made you a promise."
She sprang back onto the bed, squealing, and pounced on top of him, lavishing him with kisses that aggravated his already aching face and continued jostling the mattress in ways his stomach warned him against continuing.
"You are the best, hon."
"I'm sorry I -"
"Don't worry about it. You're gonna be fine. My Superman."
Her hands tangled through his hair as she pulled him up, hard, for a kiss. Joe's neck did more than twinge, as did his stomach, but he managed to return the gesture. His stitches tightened uncomfortably when she pressed herself down onto him, continuing to rake her hands roughly though his hair, grinding her hips against him through the thin fabric of her dress. It was getting harder and harder for him to think. The toehold he had in lucidity was slipping thanks to the rapid-fire conversation at ear-splitting volume, along with the lights he couldn't seem to get away from. 'She showed up. That's what matters. It's just a concussion. Been through this a dozen times. Stop spinning. Weren't there roses?'
Joe winced when she pushed off of him, straddling him, away from his lips, but he was grateful for any sort of affection. Unshowered, likely still with blood in his hair, ugly from bruises and who knew what else – he hadn't seen himself in a mirror – his woman had come to him when he called. The room was spinning faster now. He would make any promise she wanted.
"Baby, stay out. Long as you want. You said I'm fine."
"Are you sure? Danielle has a room here and I can stay with her if you just want it quiet."
"Whatever you want." Joe pressed his eyes well past shut. She hadn't turned the lights off yet.
"Oh my gaw, you are the best! And we're still here tomorrow, so I can make it up to you with whatever you want." Her tone was suggestive, using his words against him, and Joe felt her hands crawl up his inner thighs, massaging and pressing as they went. He couldn't give her a response, physical or otherwise, and her frustrated huff told him she wasn't thrilled.
"Baby...I'm sorry. Just…"
"Whatever, it's cool. We've been together forever, right? It's just one night. You stay here. I'm going back to the club, Dani has a room, you call if you need me." She grabbed her clutch and walked out the door, letting it slam behind her, leaving Joe laying precariously near the edge of the bed.
After a few minutes in blessed silence, Joe heaved one arm over his eyes to block the light and waved the other above his head, hoping to hit the light switch above his side of the bed. Successfully turning off one of the two bothersome lights and enjoying the partial blackness, he decided to chance a trip to the bathroom, look in a mirror, wash his face, even dare for a shower. Rolling slowly onto his side, Joe never expected the bed to drop out from under him and send him back to the floor. Groaning from the impact, he called out to his fiancee before remembering – she was gone. He closed his eyes and growled with frustration before the blackness slipped out from under him as well.
When he woke, the side of his face felt wet. The fog in his mind had cleared just enough to know he had re-injured his face, but not enough to know how long he had been laying there. 'I'm not fucking up anyone else's night. No calls. Get to the bathroom, clean up, and be a man. Jesus Christ, Joe, grow up.'
Joe clung to the side of the bed, pulled himself over the edge and onto his hands, then slowly stood up. He watched the room reel around him and slammed his eyes shut again, wishing he had managed to turn off both lights. He slowly felt his way along the edge of the bed until his hands hit the nightstand and a small object on it. Randy had left Joe's phone. Joe struggled with the idea of taking it with him to the bathroom; he didn't want to bother his fiancee, he didn't want to bother Randy, and he was absolutely not going to call Meg. He picked the phone up anyway, and slipped it into his track pants. He didn't remember changing, but he probably had Randy to thank for it. Eyes closed, sliding along the wall toward what he hoped would be a bathroom, he kept telling himself all he needed was water.
Standing soon removed itself from the catalogue of options as Joe entered the bathroom. The trek from the bed to the sink had left him spent, and as he leaned forward to the mirror to inspect his face, he felt vertigo push him forward as his vision seized. The floor reached up for him again, and Joe vaguely realized he was falling for the third time that night. He didn't know what his head hit on the way down, only that he could feel more hot wetness on his face after hearing a dull thump echo repeatedly through his skull. 'She didn't stay, did she? Nobody stayed.' His eyes rolled back into a pleasant, welcoming dark space as his stomach overrode common sense and vomiting finally was worth the effort.