It's been far too long since the last chapter, but I'm not entirely sure what help it off. Anyway, here it is, and I apologise in advance for any mistakes that I've missed. Thanks for sticking around for 60 chapters!
Carlisle had given me the unfortunate task of telling Alistair. It wasn't like he could get away without mentioning it; his recovery was going to take too long, and there was no way in hell that his best friend wouldn't notice the bandages. It had taken a day before he'd realised that and given in.
Time seemed irrelevant after sitting in the hospital for a while. The hours dragged into each other, and people came and went, but before I knew it, it was dark outside again and I was being kicked out. My car was one of the last left in visitor's portion of the hospital car park, and I assumed the nurses felt sorry for us, seeming as I had been allowed to stay well past visiting hours had ended.
Despite it being rather late again, I called Alistair as soon as I reached the hospital car park. The time was going to annoy him, but I wasn't going to get any sleep if I tried to leave it until the morning. God knows, I desperately needed to sleep by that point.
"What?" he groaned as he answered. He'd tried not to snap, but his reply was a half-asleep complaint. At least he made an effort, I guess.
"Hey, Carlisle's in hospital," I told him bluntly. Thankfully, my voice didn't shake. It shocked him into silence for a few seconds.
"What'd he fall over now?" he grumbled eventually, trying to laugh but starting to sound a little worried. In the background, I heard fabric rustle, like he was dragging himself out of bed. The humour left his voice when I didn't laugh. "Is he okay? What happened?" There was a concerned note in his voice that I hadn't heard before, an almost parental one.
I suddenly wasn't sure what to tell him. "He's safe; he'll be on the ward for a few days, I think," I told him slowly. Thinking about everything made my head hurt; going back to an empty home was very unappealing while my boyfriend was stuck here for who-knows-how-long.
"Yeah, but what happened?" Defensive now, he sounded agitated. "Garrett, what the fuck? Don't call me in the middle of the bloody night and then not tell me anything." Apparently, he didn't deal well with worry.
I ignored that he'd snapped at me, well aware of my behaviour the day before when people had tried to help us. It still didn't seem like a good time to bring up the whole ordeal with his boss; I assumed Carlisle had never told him what was happening, and talking about that now was only going to keep him up all night too. "He was assaulted yesterday at work, and he'll be okay, but he's hurt," I explained. The phone line fell quiet again and I leaned my forehead against the steering wheel, squeezing my eyes shut.
"...Assaulted?" Now, his voice trembled and had lost its volume. "Is he alright? Should I come now-"
"No, Alistair, he's fine," I interrupted. There was no way I wanted to deal with his panic as well. "Well, maybe not fine, but he's stable. The doctors want to watch him before they send him home, just to make sure nothing goes wrong."
"...jesus...he didn't get stabbed or anything, right?" he asked softly. Another voice murmured that he should get back in bed, but he didn't respond to them. "Assaulted meaning…?"
"No, no weapons. He was beaten up, but it could have been worse, I guess." It didn't feel like it when it was the person that you loved, though, especially when that person was Carlisle.
Alistair must have thought the same, because he let out a tight sigh, groaning though his teeth. "He's really okay?"
"Yes, I wouldn't lie to you about that." It seemed to calm his nerves. We hung up, and I drove home, stopping to get takeaways on the way. Eating might have been unappealing, but it was also compulsory, and I knew I'd feel worse if I skipped dinner. It was a weight off my mind that Carlisle wouldn't be able to get out of it once the doctors decided to put their foot down about it. They'd let it slide today, but had assured me that it wouldn't continue that way.
.
.
Back at work, I could barely function. I got nothing done and couldn't think past getting to my boyfriend at the end of the day. The hour or so I would get to see him before being told it was too late to be there wasn't enough, and I knew it would only make me worry more. I still couldn't resist it. Certainly not while Carlisle was in such a state either. Aside from the pain, he was bored shitless, somehow managing to not complain about the whole experience.
After three days of forced bed rest, barely being able to move without supervision was quickly frustrating Carlisle. For the time I was with him, he pretended that he was okay, but I could see it wearing thin. His back hurt whenever he sat or stood for too long, so the only thing he was really able to do was read and sleep - which theoretically should have been the best thing for him.
It wasn't until I was there when dinner was served that I realised how much he was actually struggling. Holding a knife and fork was almost impossible while his hand was bandaged, and watching him eat was painful. He would never finish it at this rate; it would either go cold, or he'd need to lie down again before he was halfway done. Just getting anything on the fork at all using his left hand seemed to be a struggle. "You really don't need to be watching this," he mumbled, accidently dropping the cutlery and wincing at the sharp scrape it made against the plate.
"Let me cut it for you?" I suggested, slowly pulling the tray toward me so I could get to it.
"I hate this," he whispered to me, unable to make eye contact. "I feel like a child. I can't even get dressed by myself; I can't lean forward at all...hurts to breathe…" The last part was supposed to be a joke, but I had no doubt that it actually did. He fumbled to manage the fork again once he had his plate back, quickly becoming disheartened.
"If you get really stuck, Carlisle, I can-"
"No- you're not feeding me," he interrupted abruptly, his cheeks heating. "I'll do it."
I nodded, not wanting to make him feel more awkward than he already did. "Okay." It didn't stop me getting frustrated on his behalf. The only thing I wanted now, was him in my arms. "Is the food okay here?" I asked to distract us both.
"It's as nice as you'd expect mass-made meals to be," he tried to tease. "It's not quite as good as your cooking, though."
"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not." Seeing how discouraged he was, I shifted to sit on the bed beside him, gently squeezing his leg. "Hey...It's not forever; you'll be out of here soon."
"...just want to go outside for a bit…" he mumbled. "It's claustrophobic being inside all day." The next bite he shoved between his lips seemed to hurt going down. It was dark outside now, so there was no way he would be allowed, and he'd only get cold anyway. If he could even tolerate walking that far.
I waited until he'd finished eating what little he was going to, and then carefully wrapped my arms around him. I don't know what I had expected, but he felt even more fragile that he used to. "I love you, Carlisle."
"...love you too…" Moving obviously hurt him, but he shuffled closer to me and wrapped his good arm around my shoulders. It was only after I turned to face him and pulled him into my lap that he managed to relax. "Thank you for staying with me…"
"I sure as hell wouldn't be doing anything else. I can stay until you fall asleep, if you want?" I brushed my fingers up his body, frowning at the feel of the tape against his ribs. Sitting like this couldn't have been good for him anyway. He'd had pain relief before dinner, but it was wearing thin now, and he was biting his lip to fight the discomfort. "What shall we do for your birthday?" I asked to distract him.
"I just want to go home, Gar, I don't care about that. Besides, I can't move anyway; we can't do anything...I want to be at home with you again…" Homesick.
I didn't fight him on it; it made sense he didn't want to think about it right now. We could postpone a date or something for later. Instead, I ran my fingers through his hair, hugging him as gently as I could. "Lie down," I murmured, sliding him off me and back against the bed. The colour had drained from his face and he looked dizzy now. "You feeling okay?"
He nodded, keeping a tight hold on my hand as best that he could. "...tired…haven't done anything, but I'm still tired…" The smile he tried to give me was shaky and wouldn't stick.
"That's because you're supposed to be in bed. I told Alistair, by the way.".
"I don't know what you said, but he thought I was dying," he teased. "He came to see me a few days ago, and pretty much had a panic attack because the police were here."
I chuckled and kissed his forehead, but my smile quickly faded. "What's happening with that? They have arrested Caius?"
He nodded. "Yeah...and you broke his nose, by the way." That brought on a small smile.
"Good," I grinned, rubbing his fingers. "The bastard deserved it." The worst I'd come out with was bruised knuckles.
.
.
I'd hoped like hell that he would have been discharged before his birthday. Instead, he'd had police coming in and out all week, and the doctors were reluctant to let him out while he was struggling so much. It was breaking my heart to see him so miserable. It fell on a Saturday, so at least we could spend a bit of time together, even if it was confined to a hospital ward.
"Happy birthday." Sitting on the edge of the bed, I wrapped my hands around one of his, squeezing gently and setting a card on the bedside table.
He smiled weakly, but couldn't make eye contact. "Thanks, Gar..."
"You okay? I'm sorry you're stuck in here." If it hurt for me, it must have been worse for him. I had no idea how to make it better, though. There was a quiet knock on the door, and an officer entered. He was vaguely familiar, and I wonder if he was the same guy who'd delt with me when my car had been rear-ended. He smiled upon seeing that I was there and looked to my boyfriend to make sure it was okay.
"I need him to stay, Charlie," he mumbled, his hold on me tightening.
The officer nodded. "Alright. Caius hasn't contacted you again?" he asked. "We've documented everything he sent you in case we need it for the trial." He hesitated, his frown deepening a little. "He was released on bail last night, so he is out now."
Carlisle's reaction wasn't what I had expected. Instead of freaking out, he just nodded. "He's left me alone...he won't know where to find me, anyway…he probably knows my address though; I don't want him to do anything to Garrett."
Charlie looked at me, troubled. "Do you feel unsafe?" he asked me.
I shook my head. "No, he'd have to break into both the apartment building, and into our apartment to be able to get to me. Will I...I retaliated, am I in trouble as well?"
"No, it was self defense," he assured me. "If he comes anywhere near either of you, I need to know immediately. I'll leave you two alone now; happy birthday, Carlisle."
I nodded and Carlisle mumbled a thank you as Charlie headed for the door. "You're really not worried about him being out?" I asked carefully. His emotions didn't make sense to me, but at this point, it didn't matter.
"He can't get to me while I'm here." His fingers weaved into my clothing, tugging me closer. "...Can we go out? Please? I don't want to sit here all day a-and..." That was all he'd begged me for over the last five days, just wanting to get out for a bit. I knew he wasn't sleeping well, and that the pain wasn't well managed, but he didn't complain about it. The only thing he was outwardly upset about was being locking indoors.
"Do you think you'll be allowed?" I asked carefully; it wasn't fair to keep refusing that. "You want me to ask the nurse?"
He nodded. "...please, Garrett...I want to get out...just for a bit..."
Standing up, I pressed a kiss against his cheek, rubbing his shoulder. "Okay, Carlisle, stay here a minute." I knew I was going to have to fight the nurse on it; I highly doubted they'd let him walk out of here. Still, I steeled my nerves and approached the woman in charge. She was surprisingly sympathetic, carefully weighing the decision and eventually given in. Perhaps being a model patient was paying off.
She followed me back to him, giving him the rest of his medication and disconnecting his IV. "You need to be back here before dinner, though," she warned. Her words were more directed at me than him. "And if you worsen, you need to come straight back."
I assured her that we'd do as we were told, and helped Carlisle wriggle into his jacket. The effort left him exhausted and out of breath, frustrated tears welling up. "It's okay," I murmured to him, crouching down to tie his shoes so he didn't have to bend forward. Standing up, I hugged his shoulders, letting him lean against me. "It's alright, don't stress about it now."
The first few seconds he was on his feet, he was very wobbly and I didn't trust him not to fall. He was determined, though, holding onto me and the railing until we got onto the street a few minutes later. "It's nice to be outside," he told me breathlessly. His hand immediately found mine, squeezing softly.
I frowned and slipped my arm around his waist, keeping it on his hip so I didn't squeeze him. "Sick of being locked inside already?" The teasing didn't work; it hurt me too much to see him this miserable.
He didn't answer. His silence continued until the end of the street, when he stumbled into me and almost fell. I roughly caught him, both of us wincing at his sharp gasp of pain. "I can't do this- it hurts too much," he burst out, fighting back tears. "...I just want to go home…"
Sighing through my teeth, I kept my arms around him. "I can...I could take you home now for a bit, if you wanted?" I suggested slowly, trying to figure out the logistics of it.
He glanced up at me, suddenly hopeful. "Can we?" he asked softly.
Gently bringing our lips together, I nodded. "If that's what you want." I had my doubts that he could make it to the carpark without coming apart, and he kept himself very close against my side like he was afraid of falling again.
.
.
As soon as I was met with resistance, I turned to see what had made him stop, thinking the worst. I was instantly ready to grab him the second he tripped."You okay?"
Kittens. Tumbling around in a pet shop window.
I stood beside him, squeezing his hand as he watched them.
"Can we go in?" he asked, glancing from them to me and back again.
There was no way I could deny him that. Instead, I held the door for him, watching as he immediately went to their enclosure. Little paws and noses squeezed between the bars of their cage, and he slipped his fingers through to touch them.
The woman who had previously been behind the counter approached him, her heels clicking against the floor. "Would you like to hold one? I can get them out," she suggested.
He jumped and glanced up at her. "...yes, please..." Shuffling out of the way, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the tiny creatures. Although being asked to pick which one he wanted initially bewildered him, he quickly asked for a little grey one - the one he'd been playing with before the woman came up to him.
Obliging, she unlocked the door and scooped it up, settling it in his arms. Her eyes remained on him even when she stepped back, and I realised with a jolt of sadness what she was seeing that made her so sympathetic; he might have been wearing civilian clothing, but he still had the hospital's identification bracelet around his wrist and a lure taped into his hand. No doubt, she'd noticed the bruising and his weight as well, and the brace around his arm.
I went to crouch beside him, kissing his cheek before letting the kitten sniff me. It's purring seemed to comfort him to no end, and he ran his fingers through it's fur over and over again, holding it against his chest.
"She's so tiny and soft," he whispered to me, glancing up. The first genuine smile I'd seen in weeks crept across his face. "Do you want to hold her?"
I didn't trust myself not to drop it or squeeze it too hard; my hands weren't as gentle as his. "You keep her; I don't want to hurt her." The kitten mewed softly, pushing her way through his hands to press her nose into his cheek. Her paws sunk in and out of his clothing, pulling herself up on short little limbs to be close to him.
A laugh bubbled to the surface, and he readjusted his hold on her. Her little body fit in the crook of his arms, and he sat back on his legs. Whatever pain he was feeling was clearly outweighed by his want to cuddle that kitten. "She's so sweet...she even smells good…"
I let my fingers brush her ears, feeling the tickle of her whiskers grazing my hand. "I think she likes you."
He laughed again, his smile never fading. "Are you sure that you don't want to hold her? She's so soft, Garrett."
"I'm no good with animals, Carlisle," I murmured, rubbing his shoulders as I stood behind him. I was very aware of him shifting uncomfortably, trying to disperse the pain until he sighed quietly and got up again. He put the kitten back in her cage and stepped back into my arms. I slipped my arm around his waist again.
"Thank you," he said to the woman, his face flushing as he watched the floor.
Her smile was guarded. "That's alright. You two take care," she told us as we headed for the door.
"You okay?" I murmured as I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. Getting to the car seemed like a long shot while he was this wobbly on his feet.
"...Can we still go home?" he asked quickly. "Please? I-"
"I'll take you home, Carlisle, it's okay."
.
.
Lying on the bed with him, it was as close to what he wanted for his birthday as we were going to get. It was too painful for him to cuddle into me, so I moulded myself around his body, pressing kisses against his neck and cheek. He was fighting falling asleep. Being home seemed to dissolve some of the tension in his shoulders, and he was finally starting to relax. We still had a few hours before I had to take him back to the hospital - it wasn't even lunch time yet.
I pulled the blankets up over him, tucking him into bed. "Go to sleep if you can, yeah?" I suggested.
"...want to be with you, not sleep…" he mumbled, barely awake as it was. "All I've done all week is sleep." His hand found mine and he squeezed my fingers.
"I'll still be here," I assured him, brushing his hair off of his face. "It'll do you good to get some rest."
The smile he offered wasn't stable, and he shifted slightly to lean his head against my shoulder. He was colder than I would have liked, needing to eat most likely. "...so good to be in our bed again…"
"Make the most of it, then." It only took a couple of minutes for the heat of my body to soak into him, and it was enough of a comfort to make him fall asleep.
.
.
I stayed with him until I was sure that he was going to stay unconscious, and then wandered into the kitchen. Seeming as he had no appetite for hospital food, I hoped a home-made lunch might tempt him into eating. There were just enough ingredients left in the pantry to make a decent meal. It didn't take long, and I internally debated whether I should wake him up to eat.
I decided against it. He needed to sleep; he could eat in the car if he really needed to. Instead, I busied myself with dishes and tidying up, waiting impatiently. I eventually got back in bed with him, risking wrapping my arms around him. He unconsciously cuddled into me. Being with him again was such a relief that it was making me tired too.
It wasn't until I was nudged awake that I realised I had fallen asleep as well. "Garrett…"
I closed my hand over his, not awake enough to make sense of what he wanted to say. "You want something to eat?" I asked, forcing myself to sit up. "I missed having you here like this."
"Gar...I don't feel good…" he pleaded again, almost begging me to listen. Sure enough, he was too pale, biting his lip as he squeezed my hand. "Please…"
That was enough to clear my head. "You're hurting?" I asked, starting to pull the blankets free of us. I knew he was getting upset, tears welling up and threatening to spill over.
"I-I don't know- I just don't feel well," he repeated. His breath was starting to catch, his hands shaking violently.
It made me panic a bit. "Let's go back to the ward." I was instantly helping him get dressed again - too quickly; I was moving too fast for him to keep up. Seeing that he wanted to cry, I kissed him softly. "It'll be okay; your medication must be wearing off."
He didn't want to stand up, holding onto me to slow me down. "...Garrett…"
"Come and get in the car, it'll only get worse the longer we leave it." This time, I ignored his protest, getting him to his feet. We only made it to the kitchen before he needed to sit down, and I let him rest at the table while I put some of the lunch in a container for later, if he wanted it. "Carlisle, it's okay," I soothed, kissing him as I crouched down in front of him.
"I can't- I can't go back, I-"
"Yes you can. You have to." I let him lean against me for a while as he tried to catch his breath. "I won't let you fall."
"It never used to hurt this bad as a child," he blurted out. "I should be able to handle it."
"You're badly injured, Carlisle," I reminded him, holding my hand against his cheek. I brushed away the few tears that fell with my thumb. That he was thinking about that at all made me want to vomit. "You shouldn't have to handle it…"
.
.
It took a while, but eventually I managed to coax him in to stumbling to the car. The seat belt seemed particularly painful this time around, now that the painkillers had worn off, and he kept his good hand in between his body and the fabric the entire drive. I kept my hand on his leg, struggling to keep my attention firmly on the road.
I really didn't expect the rush of relief that I felt when he was finally signed back into the ward, no matter how much it was upsetting him. The nurse took one look at him and went to arrange another dose of morphine, instructing him back to bed immediately. He did as he was told with a quiet sigh.
"You alright?" I asked, wrapping my arms around him as he sat on the edge of the mattress.
"I'm okay," he whispered back, burying his face in my shirt. I rubbed his back, trying not to touch where he was sore.
"I can stay until you fall asleep?" I suggested softly, resting my cheek on the top of his head.
"...you'll be hungry- you'll miss dinner, Gar...it's okay; it'll be too late by the time you get home."
"I can get food on the way home, it's alright." It wasn't very likely he would be awake much after his next round of drugs. Once he was lying down, the nurse reattaching his IV, I sat in the chair beside the bed to keep out of the way. I rubbing his hand as he held onto the bed, tracing the lines of his fingers.
"Go home, Garrett...I'll be fine; I'm only going to fall asleep again," he told me again. This time, I got the sense that he wanted to be left alone, the exhaustion starting to wear thin. Enough must have been enough for one day.
"Alright," I agreed reluctantly, leaning forward to kiss him. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"
He nodded and squeezed my hand. "Yeah, thank you for taking me out…"
"Get some more sleep, Carlisle."
.
.
My eyes burnt as I stepped out of the hospital, and I fought back a surge of tears. Going home to an empty apartment was the last thing I wanted to do, so I wandered up the street instead. It was far too familiar to what I had done with Carlisle an hour, and I fought back a surge of longing as my feet came to a stop.
The kittens. That little grey one still pawing at the window. After standing outside for a minute debating what to do, I pushed open the pet shop door for the second time that day. The woman at the counter looked confused, presumably at the state I'd worked myself up into and because of my repeated presence.
"Are you alright?" she asked me slowly.
"T-the kittens...they're for sale, right? The grey one?"