Angie didn't exactly recover from the shame of what she did.
The morning after her misdeed Daddy got spun up, properly this time. That was before he ever came home from whatever it was he was doing and long before she usually woke up. Uncle Trent was the one to drop her off at Aunt Naima's. He scooped her up out of bed in the wee hours of the morning, put her in the truck and dropped her off at the Perry's just as Uncle Ray was leaving.
They muttered something about 'this better being the real thing this time' as they left.
From there Angie walked as if in a dream through the rest of her day, closed off and detached, just like she'd learned when Mommy was sick. If nothing could reach her, nothing could hurt her anymore.
Jameelah was upset with her, understandably so because she'd lied to her too, and Auntie Naima didn't hide the fact she was extremely disappointed in her and that she would need to make some amends. She wasn't as harsh as Angie feared she would be. Naima didn't take her books from her, but she did have her do extra chores in the evening.
Still, the shame was unbearable.
Angie's way to cope was to dive headlong into her books, hardly coming up for air except for school and homework, both of which she only managed to do half-heartedly.
On Wednesday, after another night of nightmares that couldn't be chased away by going to Aunt Naima because she didn't feel like she deserved it anymore, Angie was exhausted and didn't feel right.
Her friends were all shocked by her lying about being allowed to go. Jameelah was cool and distant. Angie spent most of her time on the swings alone because she figured they didn't want to play with her anymore. Sarah and Summer took advantage of that and made sure to be extra cruel, even suggesting that 'maybe she'd be switching schools soon since she'd messed up so bad' and the particularly nasty line from Sarah of 'I guess little miss perfect couldn't convince her daddy to keep her after all'.
The only reprieve was Ms. Finch and Angie hadn't given into her gentle coaxing to tell her what was going on yet because she didn't think she deserved the comfort after how bad she'd been and didn't want her beloved teacher to be disappointed in her too.
"You've hardly touched your breakfast, Angie. Are you feeling ok?"
Angie lifted her cheek from her palm, blinking as she came back to reality in the quiet, sunlit kitchen. Jameelah was in the bathroom and RJ was already down from the table, playing.
Predictably Auntie Naima called out the way she was pushing her food around her plate.
Angie wanted to say no. She wanted to tell her Aunt that she'd felt sick for days now, ever since Daddy walked out and slammed that door. Her throat was sore and it hurt to eat, she couldn't sleep. Everything ached, especially her neck and it felt like there was a permanent weight sitting on her chest. Her stomach was constantly turning with nausea and every so often it hurt really bad, like a knife stabbing her.
But Angie was just as stubborn as her father and she was determined not to be any more trouble for anyone, so she put on her best pretending face and said, "I'm ok."
Aunt Naima frowned and walked over, brushing her hair out of her face in a motherly fashion to feel her forehead.
"You're a little warm, honey…are you sure you feel ok?"
Angie knew her aunt had been overworked the last few days. She'd been tired and almost cross, if that was even possible for Aunt Naima. The child didn't want to alienate herself even more from the only mother figure she had by needing to stay home from school, so Angie nodded again and said, "Yes. I want to go to school. I'm fine."
Aunt Naima narrowed her eyes, studying her before saying reluctantly, "Alright. If you're sure."
When she got to school, Angie immediately started to wish she'd stayed home after all. She fell asleep in class. Twice. That got her teased by half the kids until Ms. Finch put a quick stop to it and they had to leave her alone.
She tried to do her work. Really she did. But her head ached so bad, and the light hurt her eyes, so she rested her head in her arm again while struggling through the math problems.
"Angie? Sweetheart, are you ok? You feel pretty warm."
Angie lifted her head, groggy as she peered around the now empty classroom.
Oh. She fell asleep again. Everyone must be either outside for recess or in the Library.
Angie didn't care. Her head still pounded.
Ms. Finch crouched down next to her, one hand resting on her back and rubbing a comforting circle.
"Angie…love, what's going on? You seem like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders."
Big tears surfaced and Angie's head throbbed harder as the light in the room got unbearable.
She put her head back down, ignoring the painful clenching of her stomach and mumbled, "You'll be mad at me too."
"Oh, darling…no…whatever it is, you can tell me and I promise there will be no judgment." Ms. Finch's accent thickened slightly as she spoke earnestly.
Lips quivering, Angie peeked over the side of her arm at the woman next to her, defeated and desperate.
"You'll still like me?"
"Of course- Angie…what's happened?"
Sniffing and holding back a sob, Angie whispered, "I've been very bad."
"How so," Ms. Finch coaxed gently, still rubbing slow circles as she crouched next to her desk.
"I lied and told Auntie Naima and my friends that Daddy said I could go to the Carnival with Lily on Sunday when he didn't."
"Ah." Ms. Finch didn't react much past understanding. "And I'm guessing you got found out."
Angie whimpered and nodded.
"Daddy was so mad he had to leave the house and Uncle Trent came to take care of me instead." Angie whispered, big eyes pleading for Ms. Finch to keep listening and understand that she hadn't meant for it to all happen that way. "I-I didn't mean to make him so mad."
"Did you and him have a talk later?" Finch asked softly, a tiny frown appearing as she listened.
Shaking her head, Angie gulped, "No. He got spun up before he ever came back."
"Oh, honey…I'm so sorry," Finch's face fell with compassion. "That's so hard."
Disarmed completely now, Angie confessed, "He's going to send me away."
Finch's dark, gentle eyes widened at her words and she immediately shifted to her knees so she could lean closer, her hand rubbing a faster circle on her back.
"Oh, no. Angie…nononono, baby, I'm sure your dad's not- why would you think that?"
"B-because! I-I can't be perfect and I keep causing trouble for him and he still gets grumpy even though I'm trying so hard to do everything right and I can't-I can't-I can't do anything right anymore- He's going to decide I'm too much trouble and I made him so mad and-and-and-Aunt Naima is disappointed in me, and Jameelah's mad that I lied to her and the others, and now they don't want to play with me anymore, and Sarah and Summer keep saying…saying that I'll be gone soon and they'll be glad," Angie winced as her head pounded harder and she felt lightheaded. Dropping her head back into the darkness of her arms, Angie whispered, "Ms. Finch…I don't feel well."
"Sweetie…oh, Angie, I bet you don't! That's so much to carry! It's no wonder you feel so crummy." Finch drew a long breath. "Do you want to go home?"
"Daddy's still gone and Aunt Naima is working," Angie whispered, hating how loud the world was and that her throat was aching so bad, and it hurt to swallow anything and she just wished her stomach would stop twisting.
"Let me make some phone calls and-"
"No. I can't cause any more trouble. Ronda said that-that I just need to put my big girl pants on and suck it up because if I'm too much hassle, my new family might not want to put up with me, and I love my new family, Ms. Finch! I can't- I don't want to lose them- I don't want to leave!"
"Shh…shh, no, Angie, you aren't going anywhere. I know that for a fact."
"Why?" Angie wailed.
"Because, even if it were possible for everyone else to abandon you, your dad will still be there with you. He's one of the toughest, most dedicated dad's I've ever met, Angie. And, on top of that, he's completely devoted to taking good care of you and defending you, making sure you're happy. He would never give you up! It's clear to anyone looking how much he loves you!"
Angie shook her head.
"That was before I was bad."
"Love's not dependent on good or bad, Angie. He loves you, so so much."
"I don't know anymore," Angie wept into her desk.
"Uncle Scott does love you, Angie!" Jameelah's voice broke from the doorway and Angie half lifted her head to squint at her. The other girl was wringing her hands and had tears running down her own cheeks as she hurried into the empty classroom. Who knew how long she'd been there. Long enough. "He'd never send you away! And Mommy loves you too! And-and so do I!"
Swallowing down another whimpering sob, Angie watched, confused as Jameelah ran to her and threw her arms around her. "I'm so sorry I was mean. I shouldn't have acted like I did. I'm sorry. I love you and I don't want you to be sad anymore!"
"That's it…Jameelah, can you take care of Angie for a minute while I make a phone call?" Ms. Finch said softly as Angie melted into her cousin's hug and sobbed weakly.
Jameelah nodded, big fat tears running down her own face as she fiercely hugged Angie.
Ms. Finch flicked off the lights and went to her desk, making a phone call in a soft, low tone.
They were silent for a long time until Angie broke away, whispering, "My head hurts so bad…I don't feel good."
"Mommy will make it better." Jameelah promised, brushing her fingers through Angie's hair in a maternal way. "It'll be ok. You'll see. Just wait till Uncle Scott gets home. He'll make it all better too. I'll make sure he does!"
Angie didn't answer, retreating inside herself instead at the mention of her dad coming home again. She'd given up hope on that one.
Time lost meaning. Angie was shuffled to the school nurse, who determined Angie had a high fever and definitely needed to go home.
Jameelah was allowed to stay with her until Aunt Naima arrived.
When she did, Angie vaguely recalled Jameelah crying to her mother about everything that was wrong and Aunt Naima shushing her, telling her Ms. Finch already let her know.
From there, Angie was dragged back to reality when Aunt Naima helped her to the car, all the while asking gentle questions about how she was feeling. Bit by bit, Angie told her everything that hurt. Her throat, her head, her stomach. Her whole body. Every part of her. Her heart hurt the most.
"Angie, can you drink this please?"
In the darkened living room, Angie lay on the couch with a metal bowl next to her, a cup of water with a straw and a blanket. She felt weird. It was like she didn't really exist anymore and her mind had run away.
"Come on, honey. Drink up. There you go. This is going to help bring that fever down and make you feel better. Keep this cold pack right here. It's going to help too."
Once she was allowed to lay back again, Angie closed her eyes and gave in to the call for sleep, shivering and wishing she could move the cold gel pack from the back of her neck.
Voices stirred her back again. How long later, Angie couldn't say. It could have minutes, or hours. They spoke, but she didn't care what they said nor did her brain make sense of the words right away.
"You and Trent both. I know I screwed up. Believe me."
"I don't think you do know how bad it is." Aunt Naima's voice was sharp despite its low tone in the doorway to the living room.
"What do you mean." The other low voice growled warily, laced with exhaustion.
"Finch got her to open up today before she called me. The poor thing is convinced you're done with her, Scott and that you don't love her anymore."
"Fuck." There was a deep, growling groan. "Trent said the same thing."
"What? He already knew about this?!" Naima hissed, "A head's up would have been nice! I could have been running more damage control if I'd have known, Scott! I thought she was just upset about whatever consequences you'd dealt out already and ashamed, I didn't know you hadn't spoken to her since-! For heaven sake!"
"I know! But we were in a bit of a hurry, Naima! There wasn't exactly time!"
"This can't happen again," Naima stressed grimly. "You can get mad as a parent, you can step away, but you don't ever take off like that again and not repair with her before she goes to sleep. You hear me?!"
"Loud and clear. Can I take my kid home now?"
"Yes."
It went quiet and then Angie felt someone move her hair off of her face with a slow, sweeping palm.
She dragged her eyes open.
Squinting, Angie tried to focus on the face leaning over her because the hand that just brushed her hair back wasn't small or delicate enough to be Auntie Naima and it was only just starting to occur to her that the person talking to her Aunt was someone she dearly wanted.
"Come 'ere, little bear. Let's get you home."
Disbelief rippled through Angie. Daddy was here? Wasn't he working…and wasn't he still mad at her?
Head still throbbing in time with her sore throat, Angie closed her eyes again and didn't protest when strong arms lifted her off the couch.
Maybe it was just a dream. If it was she didn't want to wake up. There was only one person in the world that she wanted more than the one holding her right now and that was her mother. Since she couldn't have the latter, she would settle for the former.
"Thank you, Naima," Her dad's unmistakable voice vibrated through his chest into her ear.
"Of course! The poor thing. Those meds should be kicking in soon. I gave them to her about ten minutes ago. Do you have more at home or do you need to take this bottle?"
"I followed your list of suggestions and picked up half a pharmacy weeks ago."
"Just checking!" Humor leaked into Aunt Naima's voice, replacing the ice that had been there. "Glad you know at least sometimes listen to me."
"I'd be stupid not to listen to you."
"Here, I'll get the doors for you."
"Thanks."
"Like I said before, Strep is going around right now along with a whole bunch of other things, so keep an eye on her. If that fever doesn't break in a day or two, or she gets worse you'll have to get her checked out. I've got a bad feeling about the way her throat and tonsils looked when I checked them. Could have an infection and she's been acting off for days now. She said her stomach hurt too."
"Awesome." Daddy grumbled, shifting her in his arms and looking down at her. Angie felt tears spring to the surface, leaking out at what she perceived to be a tired, cranky tone. She was being a pain again. Too much trouble.
As the adults said goodbye, Angie tried to pretend she was somewhere else. Tried to pretend her dad was taking her home to her mom and that she'd be in the arms of someone who never thought she was a nuisance or a burden. Someone who always, without fail, forgave her when she messed up. Her soul ached for her mother.
Her dad put her in the truck, pausing to brush more hair from her face before buckling her when she didn't and closing the door.
"Let's get you home." Scott murmured softly as he got in, starting the truck and pulling out of the driveway.
She wasn't sure if she fell asleep during the short drive or not, but the next thing she knew her door was opening again and Scott was flicking off her seatbelt.
"Angie, can you look at me for a second?"
She wanted to say no and start crying instead, but Angie opened her eyes anyway. She met his eyes with what she thought was a perfectly schooled expression for at least a moment before closing them again. She didn't want him to see how much she was hurting inside or how much she just wanted to disappear and have everything just stop for a bit.
"Come here," Scott sighed tiredly. "Let's get you inside."
Not wanting to be a burden, Angie resisted him moving to pull her from the truck, mumbling, "I can walk."
Moving hurt every fiber of her body as she slipped down from the truck. Everything ached and she didn't feel right. Her knees almost buckled under her, but she caught herself on the truck door before her dad could steady her and stubbornly made herself start walking.
When she got halfway to the door she had to stop and fight back tears again because she couldn't manage it.
"Angie, I'm gonna carry you in a minute if you don't keep walkin."
The growl from beside her was mild, however Angie could only hear annoyance in it rather than the patience or love.
Forcing her feet to move didn't work, in fact she just felt dizzy and weak the longer she tried to convince her body to do what she wanted and all too soon she was aware of her dad stooping down to lift her.
"Let's go, little bear."
"Can I go to bed?" Angie whispered weakly.
"Uh huh. I think that's a really good place for you right now."
Angie wasn't sure if she imagined it or not, but she thought Scott might have cuddled her closer as he walked and pressed a kiss into her hair.
She wasn't sure what hurt more. The idea of it not being real, or the stabbing in her throat and gut.
Accusations and self-chastisement rattled around Meta's brain as he carried Angie to her room. The child looked awful. She was pale, red eyed with purple circles under them, her breathing was shallow and quick, and she was unbelievably hot.
He cursed mentally that he'd left things the way he did on Sunday and that he'd ended up at the Bulkhead with his head in a bottle.
When they got spun up, he'd only just sobered up, passed out on Jason's couch. He was in no shape (or so he told himself) to go see his little girl and there wasn't time. Again, so he told himself.
The dressing down he got from Trent was still fresh, despite how many days had passed since then. It echoed loudly in his mind as he slipped Angie into her bed and drew only the sheet up around her, tucking her stuffed dog under her arm.
"How is she." Metal had muttered as he tossed stuff together in his cage. There was a moment of time when it was only him and Trent in the cage room.
"Not good." Trent had told him frankly. "She's a real wreck, actually."
"She'll get over it." Metal remembered answering harshly. He'd tried to ignore the way the image of his little girl all upset twisted his stomach into knots. "Maybe next time she'll think twice before pulling that shit."
"No, I don't think you understand, Scott. She literally thinks you're going to get rid of her because of all this and that you're done with her."
He'd gone still mid task as he'd digested Trent's words. They really shouldn't have shocked him, but they did all the same.
"She what?"
"Let me spell it out so that even your caveman brain can understand," Trent rarely snapped, but when he did it was scathing and with heavy sarcasm. "You left. Without a word. All evening and night. After being royally pissed off with her. Understandable or not, necessary to keep from really laying into her over it or not, Angie still went to bed last night with the firm belief that she'd messed up so badly that you don't want her anymore and no amount of reassurance from me that 'Daddy just needs to calm down' and 'Daddy still loves you' was not going to put that one to rest. You should have seen her this morning. She was…lifeless. I've never seen a kid so defeated. She's punished herself worse than you ever could over this one."
"What did you want me to do!" Metal had snarled, digging in over the perceived attack and cursing his hangover. "I was in no shape to talk to her. I scared the shit out of her as it is with how angry I was! You didn't see how afraid she was before I sent her to her room. Then, what, you wanted me to come back, drunk and scared her more because I'd been drinking?"
"You made the choice to drink. No one made you do that."
That one was true. Metal wished he hadn't. Doubly so now as he went to find cold packs to help bring Angie's fever down like Naima told him to.
Even now his excuses were bullshit and he raged at himself.
"I know . It was dumb. I shouldn't have, but I- what the hell else was I supposed to do! I've put everything I have available into looking after her, and it's not enough. It's never going to be enough because she deserves someone better-"
Trent stepped into his space then, not at all intimidated by the dark scowl and height he had on him.
"If you even think about going down the path I think you are-"
"What path is that!?" Metal growled dangerously.
"The one where you have a pity party and start convincing yourself that maybe she's better off without you and then you really do give her up."
Baring his teeth, Metal stepped in this time, glowering down at his best friend.
"You seriously think so fucking little of me that you think I'd do that to her?!"
"I don't know! You said you'd be back in an hour and didn't come back all night because you got drunk and let your little girl go to bed thinking you're done with her!" Trent all but yelled now. "I had to watch her like a hawk, Metal! I was shocked she didn't try and run off like she did the last time she thought you didn't want her."
Jason had appeared then, breaking them up as only he could and busting their heads so they would focus on the job ahead of them. All the same, Metal couldn't stop thinking on the plane about that small,heart broken, frightened little face wordlessly pleading with him for forgiveness right before he sent her to her room.
He came back into the darkened bedroom with cold packs and slipped them in around the base of her skull and the back of her knees. He hushed her when she whimpered, wiggling fretfully in an attempt to get away from the cold. Only when she stilled did he go find the thermometer. If he couldn't bring the fever down or it spiked further, he'd have to decide if he was going to get her checked out or not.
Taking a reading and thanking new technology that he didn't have to wake her up to get it, Metal fought back worry when he saw the reading.
102.5. Still high enough. And that was with medication.
No wonder she was so out of it and miserable.
Smoothing back the hair from her sticky forehead, he pressed another light kiss onto her head. Pure habit made him do it. He knew there was a time when he wasn't so affectionate, but damn, if this little girl didn't bring out a side of him he hadn't known since Jameelah was a tiny baby. Angie would have been a tiny baby at the same time. That was hard to accept.
His little girl stirred and fidgeted fretfully again, mumbling something weakly as she wrestled with some unknown challenge in her sleep.
"Shh. Sleep, Angie. Daddy's got you."
Her lip quivered and Angie rocked her head slightly in her sleep, whimpering, "Daddy…?"
"I'm right here. It's ok."
Shuddering, Angie rocked her head again and mewed, "Daddy…please, I don't want to go away from you. I'll never be bad again…I promise, I'll be good!"
Swearing under his breath as the fragile words ghosted into the air, Metal leaned closer, heartbreaking and he pressed another kiss into her hair.
"Shh…it's ok. I've got you. You're not going anywhere, little bear. Daddy's never sending you away. It's all ok. I love you so so much. You're not going anywhere." He whispered softly, not caring if she could hear him or understand right now. It needed to be said and would be as many times as it took for her to believe him. He needed to make this right.
The words only quieted her somewhat, and Angie stayed in that tormented place for a while. Metal didn't have the heart to leave her until she was calmer, so he stayed, countering anything coherent that she said and hating himself a little more each time her broken pleas that she was sorry slipped out.
Naima was right, as always. This could never happen again. He'd sworn the first time she ran away that he wouldn't let her doubt his love for her again, and yet here they were. What a fuck up.
Hours slipped by and Metal couldn't relax. He paced, checked and re-checked Angie. Waking her once or twice just enough to give her tylenol and Advil. For the most part she was completely out of it.
When the wee hours of the night came, Metal couldn't take the quiet brooding of his mind anymore and he called Trent.
His friend answered, half asleep.
"Yup?"
They'd done this enough times to be past apologizing for waking the other up, so Metal just sighed and said, "Hey. Angie's pretty sick."
Trent made noise that sounded like he was rubbing his face and trying to wake up more as he sat up.
"Need back up?"
"That would good," Metal answered, grateful that the other man didn't need an explanation. He already knew if Metal was calling that he needed someone there for support.
"Be there in ten. How sick are we talking?"
"I don't know. I'm barely keeping the fever down. She's been sleeping, but…she's really restless this past hour and cries everytime I try to get her to drink something. I don't know what to think. Don't know if I should wake her up enough to see if she'll let me look at her throat or not, and then she's clutching at her stomach like it's hurting her real bad- Fuck it all, Trent. I've dealt with a lot of situations, but none of them have ever made me feel so stupid and helpless. If it was a gunshot wound I would know what to do, but this-"
"Alright. Gotcha. We'll figure it out, buddy. Be there in a bit."
Admitting out loud that he was out of his element and didn't know what he was doing didn't help much, but knowing that Trent would be there shortly did.
A few minutes after he hung up he heard the broken, mewing plea coming from Angie's room.
"Mommy!?"
Damn it.
He got up from the kitchen table and hurried to her room as she mewed out again desperately, "Mommy! I don't feel good!"
Angie was sitting up in bed now, swaying as she clutched her stomach and breathed in short little gasps. Instinct had him snatching up the metal bowl from the nightstand just in time, and Metal shoved it under Angie's face as she started to puke.
The poor kid heaved several times, crying in between and whimpering that it hurt. When she seemed like she was done, he gingerly set the mess aside and found her water, trying again to get her to drink.
Angie attempted, glassy eyes seeming to register that he was there and not her mom with a pained, tired sort of resolve that didn't make him happy at all.
Her face contorted when she swallowed the small sip of water and she burst into ragged tears.
"It hurts!"
Setting the water aside and using one of the washcloths he'd wrapped the ice pack in to wipe her face, Metal asked gently, "What hurts, Angie?"
Gulping, Angie seemed to give in all the sudden to the comfort he'd been offering her for hours and that she'd been resisting for whatever reason. She tipped forward, half into his lap, and curled on her side in the fetal position, weeping, "Everything!"
"Ok," Metal started running his palm over her hair slowly, fighting down the sense of urgency and the need to make it all better. "What hurts the most, Angie?"
"My throat!" Angie sobbed. "And my stomach! It hurts so much!"
Worry lines deepening, Metal rested a hand on her shivering back. In the background he heard the front door open and close gently, heralding the arrival of Trent.
"Angie, your stomach hurts…what does it feel like. Do you just feel sick to your stomach or-"
"It hurts!" Angie whimpered, curling tighter. "It hurts."
There was a soft knock and Trent slipped in.
"Hey, want me to try?" He whispered as he slowly approached them.
Metal nodded, grateful and at a loss. He hadn't felt this useless and undeniably panicked in a very long time. His kid was in pain and he couldn't make it better and he felt like an idiot.
"Angie? It's Uncle Trent."
Angie turned her head out of the crook of Metal's knee where she'd been hiding it and squinted at him.
"I don't feel well," Angie wept after taking a moment to process who was crouched near her now.
"I know, honey. Can I help? You were saying your stomach hurt. Can you point where?"
Shaking his head, Metal kicked himself. He should have thought of that hours ago.
The child weakly tried to uncurl with a shaking sob and pointed vaguely at her right side. Trent nodded and said, "Is it ok if I touch your stomach?"
Immediately Angie shook her head and curled back in on herself.
Trent hummed and nodded. "Ok. That's ok. It hurts pretty bad, huh? What about your throat? Do you think I could look at that?"
There was a long, drawn out debate before Angie decided to allow it and let him look with a depressor and light.
Metal knew his friend well enough to read past the neutral expression. It wasn't good.
"Ok. Yeah, that looks really painful, Angie! How's your breathing? Do you feel like you can get enough air?"
Shaking her head, Angie whimpered out, "Everything hurts."
"I bet it does. Hang in there ok?" Trent rubbed her arm comfortingly and Angie curled in on herself while he turned his attention to Metal. "I think maybe you should consider getting her looked at."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Just to make sure. I don't like how swollen her tonsils are, and they look angry, and the way she's guarding her stomach…I don't know. That could be nothing or it could be something else. That's not even taking into consideration the fact it's been hard to keep her temperature down and she's throwing up."
"Are you thinking appendix?"
"It's possible. Better to go in and have it be nothing though, right?."
"Ok. Then we go to the hospital. That's all there is to it."
The second the low words left his mouth, Angie stopped shivering and whimpering in his lap, going very still.
A moment later she whispered with evident trepidation, "Where are we going?"
Trying to sooth her, Metal said softly, "We're gonna go make sure you're ok and have a doctor take a look at you, Angie."
Weakly lifting her head, Angie mewed, "I don't want to go to the hospital!"
"I'm sorry, kiddo, but there's not a lot of other options." Uncle Trent told her gently. "You're really sick. We need to get you looked after."
Shaking her head, Angie gasped out a pained, "No! I don't want to!"
Metal set his jaw and mentally prepared himself. This was going to suck.
He slipped an arm under her legs and another under her torso and started to lift her up, saying to Trent, "Top dresser draw. Wallet. And my phone is on the table."
"Got it. I'll toss this too before we go." He picked up the basin and headed to the bathroom.
"Daddy!" Angie cried out, trying to wiggle free and drawing another painful wail from her lips when she aggravated her stomach. "No! I don't want to! Please, Daddy, I don't want to!"
He lifted her the rest of the way, hushing her and trying to be gentle as he locked her body in his arms against his chest.
"Angie, it's going to be ok. We have to get you checked and make sure nothing serious is going on!"
"No! No ! People die at the hospital, Daddy! I don't want to die!"
The wailing cry slowed his steps to the door and he dropped his gaze down to the feverish, crying, frightened orbs staring up at him from his arms.
"Mommy died." Angie whimpered pleadingly now that she saw she had his full attention, wincing like it hurt even to talk right now.
"I know. But that was different." Metal answered tightly, emotion closing his throat. He was never this rattled in the field. He needed to get a grip. Sinking into cold logic, he forced back the worry and said calmly, "You aren't going to die, little bear. I'm going to take care of you. I promise."
"I'm scared!"
"I know. I know you are. I've got you. I'm not letting you go."
Exhausted and losing the battle, Angie's body melted into his arms as she whined, "Promise?"
"I promise. I'll be right there. I'm not going anywhere."
Angie seemed to accept his word for now, and she quieted, fading into that half aware place she'd been ever since he picked her up from the Perry's.
They got in quicker than expected at the hospital Emerg. It probably helped that Naima was on shift and saw him when he came in.
It still took time for Angie to be seen by a doctor though, and she was shell shocked by the environment so much so that Naima reappeared and managed to arrange for her to be slipped into an empty isolation room where it was quieter and less scary.
From there it was a waiting game for the doctor to come. At that time, Angie started to throw up again and between Trent and himself it was all they could do to keep her somewhat calm and comfortable.
That much was hard. She was puking more now and was making good use of the basin provided.
When the sickening buzz and chime of his and Trent's phone filled the room and Angie froze.
She'd heard the sound enough times to know what it meant and of all times, this was the worst possible moment to hear it.
The betrayal and denial was clear as it filled her pale little face when it lifted from where she'd just puked into the basin again. Trent was holding it for her this time. He'd put on gloves and was taking point right now for taking care of her.
"It's ok, Angie." Metal heard himself say as he slipped out the phone and got up from the chair next to her bed. "I'm coming right back. Trent? Stay with her for a minute? I've gotta get this cleared."
Angie didn't answer and she didn't even pay any mind to Trent resting a comforting hand on her arm as she watched him leave.
In the hall, Metal tried to find a quiet place not too far away where he could call Jason and let him know what was going on.
"Yeah?" Jason sounded distracted and moody. Not surprising given how much Mandy was making use of them this week. She was relentless in her pursuit of this criminal ring and while they were happy to rid the earth of the scum, Metal was pretty sure they would all need a week off after this.
"Hey. Angie's in the hospital." Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a nurse and an older looking doctor going into Angie's room.
"Shit. She ok?"
"Not sure. Trent and Naima think her tonsils will need to come out though and maybe her appendix too."
"Fuck. Ok."
"I'm not spinning up." Metal clarified in a low tone, ready to fight Jason with everything he had on this one if he tried to tell him otherwise.
"No. You gotta stay with your little girl. I get it. I'll look after things here. Shouldn't be hard to clear. You just take care of my niece and tell her I love her."
" DADDY!"
The shrieking, wailing scream that echoed into the hall made his hair stand on end and he could hear Jason's sharp intake, suggesting he heard it too.
"I have to go."
Not even waiting for Jason to answer, he hung up and rapidly made for the room at the end of the hall as two more nurses rushed the same way.
There was chaos around Angie as the little girl fought with everything she had. From what he could tell it looked like they were about to sedate her and she knew it.
Naima wasn't among the staff present. Trent was both arguing with the old, bullheaded doctor who had just ordered the sedative and trying to quiet Angie, but she was seeing him as an enemy too right now and he wasn't getting far with her.
"No." Metal stated firmly, raising his voice over Angie's pitiful cries, pointing a finger at the uncomfortable looking young nurse who just got the sedative ready. "If it comes to that I'll make the call myself, but you don't go near her with that unless I say so. You hear me?"
The young man gaped at him and wisely stood back, letting him in next to Angie who was still wailing, struggling to breath and kicking anything that came near her with all she had.
"I'm gonna ask you all to step the fuck away from my kid. Now. Trent? Did that asshole order something without my consent or hers?"
"Yes." Trent ground out, glaring at the doctor.
"You're out." Metal snarled at the older man before he could speak. "I want a new doctor."
"You can't be serious- I'm the best surgeon and most senior professional you can ask for-"
"Sorry Dr. Wells," Naima walked in just then with another, younger doctor in tow, her tone sharp and cold. "You heard him. You're no longer needed here."
There was a tense, silent stand off in the room, speaking of an underlying war that neither Metal or Trent knew about, then Wells left the room without a word. Namia exhaled and shot him an apologetic look that promised to explain later.
As soon as no one was near, trying to touch her, Angie curled back as far as she could on the bed, sobbing and heaving for air she didn't have.
Reaching for her slowly, Metal said softly, "Angie-"
"You left !" Angie cried accusingly, turning her wild brown eyes on him.
"I know," Metal held up a hand peacefully, accepting her judgment without argument. "I said I would come back in a minute, and you still had Uncle Trent-"
"You promised you wouldn't leave me!" Angie howled, still hysterical as her gaze darted around the room, looking for a way out.
"I know. I'm sorry. I won't leave again, ok?" Metal reached cautiously for her as she started to wilt from the exertion of fighting so hard and she gave in when his hand made contact with her shoulder. She reached for him like a baby wanting to be picked up and he didn't hesitate to oblige. "Shh…it's ok, baby girl. I wasn't far. Uncle Trent was here to keep you safe and we've got a new doctor, ok?"
"I don't want to be put to sleep! I don't want needles in me!" Angie sobbed into his shoulder.
"I know…I know it's scary. But it's all going to be ok."
"I don't want things to be cut out of me!" Angie told him weakly as she started to lose more strength and the pain came back.
"If they really do need to come out and we don't take them out, they could make you really really sick, and if you get really sick then you could die Angie, and I can't let that happen." Metal hugged her close as Naima talked quietly with the nursing staff around them, sending nearly all of them away, and Trent held out a little longer, not wanting to leave before he was satisfied that everything was under control. The new doctor stood back quietly, observing and waiting for the right time, glancing over the chart of information they already had. Metal approved of him already for that one and took a breath before trying to coax Angie. "Do you think you could trust me, just this once? Let's start small. Can you let the nurses check your heart and temperature?"
"I want to stay with you." Angie whispered, hiding her face in his shoulder still and shivering.
"That's fine," Naima stepped up now, brushing a hand on Angie's back. "Angie, it's Auntie Naima. Can I help my friend here check your vitals? You can stay right where you are and Daddy isn't going anywhere. He'll be right here."
Drawing a shuddering breath, Angie finally nodded and allowed it.