Lee chapter 44a
Sep. 21st, 2008 08:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maculategiraffeThis isn't really long enough to be a whole chapter, but I thought I might as well post it anyway (especially since half the comments on the last chapter (non-numbered) were like "Yeah yeah yeah fine, now WHAT IS UP WITH [spoiler redacted]????"). (With which sentiment I totally sympathize; I feel that way myself.) So it is Chapter 44(a).
The cab driver was either mercifully incurious or extremely discreet; he didn’t say a word about the crowd of cameras and notepads around his cab, half screaming questions at Holden and the other half mostly just screaming Lee’s name. He also didn’t blink when Lee, once they were safely inside the cab, climbed into Holden’s lap, shivering and clinging in a way that made Holden regret letting him leave the house so soon.
“Demian hospital, please,” he said to the driver, who answered impassively, “I know. You said on the phone.”
Holden didn’t bother correcting him. He ran a hand over Lee’s sleek dark hair, feeling the boy’s trembling slowly subside against him as the cab inched through the gap in the crowd made by the helpful police officers, and pulled away from the house.
“How does it feel to be a celebrity?” he asked Lee, who just clung harder and shook his head against Holden’s shoulder. “It’ll die down soon enough, kiddo.”
Lee didn’t say another word, and he didn’t budge for the rest of the drive to the hospital.
At the hospital, Holden paid the driver, adding a three hundred percent tip that made the man’s stoic mouth twitch at the corners, and slipped his arm around Lee’s waist, hustling him inside. He inquired at the information desk as to Jer’s whereabouts.
“Is that a slave?” asked the woman at the desk. “Non-patient slaves are not allowed in the hospital.”
“Oh, come on!” said Holden, and then, with an effort, softened his tone to add, “Please. He just wants to make sure his friend is okay.”
“It’s policy,” said the woman. “There’s nothing I can—“ She broke off, peering closely at Lee, and then at Holden, and then at something on the desk in front of her. Looking down, Holden saw the magazine with Denys’ article—and Robin’s photographs.
“That’s us,” he said. “The patient is Jer—he was just admitted a few hours ago. The owner who’s with him right now is Jamesen.”
“Oh my god,” said the woman, her eyes widening. “Is Jer okay?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” said Holden, “so…”
"Hey," said Jer drowsily from the hospital bed. "Look what the cat dragged in. You look like shit."
“Thanks.” Holden crossed the room, while Lee hesitated in the doorway, and leaned down to kiss Jer’s bruised, swollen face; Jer kissed back with uncharacteristic tenderness. It was several moments before Holden broke away to ask, "How are you?"
"Oh, I'm great," said Jer, pulling absently at the cuff that attached one wrist to the bedrail. “They’ve got me on something, for pain—they needed my owner's permission, but they said Alix counted, and she said give it to me. I always liked Alix; she told them to unchain me too, but they wouldn’t. I might run away, see. Or get stolen. Not very fucking likely, right, but that’s what they said. I want to go home. I know we can’t yet, though; I’m just saying.”
"He’s a little bit fuzzy, from the narcotic,” said Alix apologetically. “They said setting his ribs would be agony without it. Also, they said he probably has a mild concussion, but he hasn’t been confused or anything, just—chatty."
As she spoke, Lee came and leaned timidly over the bed, into Jer’s line of sight. Jer looked surprised, but by no means displeased.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, reaching up to brush the knuckles of his free hand against Lee’s cheek. “Gods, you are one good-looking kid, you know that? Holden’s got no taste; he always goes for blonds. And no sense, either,” he added severely to Holden, as Lee blushed and smiled. “Why’d you bring him? He shouldn’t be here.”
“He begged me to let him come along, and see how you were,” said Holden. “I didn’t have the heart to say no. So how are you? Concussion and what else?”
“We don’t really know yet,” said Alix, as Jer appeared distracted by Lee. “They did set his ribs, as I said, and taped them—and they said those and the concussion should heal fine on their own, as long as he’s careful and avoids exertion. But the doctor left after that, and we haven’t seen him for hours. I guess he must not be too worried.”
Holden nodded. “Where are Robin and Denys?”
“Long gone,” said Jer, his eyes still on Lee’s face. “They couldn’t chain her to the bed. Stitched up her head, gave her a handful of paracetemol, and she was out. Places to go, people to see. Tyrannical empires to overthrow. You go over to Dunaev’s?”
“Yes,” said Holden. “And yes. A girl named Gwen. I dropped her off at home before we came here. No visible injuries, no catatonia—she should be fine for now. I told her you’d take charge of her when you got home, Alix.”
“Good,” said Alix. “You’ve got enough on your plate. Am I taking Lee home with me, too, when I go?”
“Yes,” said Jer firmly. “Kid shouldn’t be here when he doesn’t have to be.”
“I want to be here,” Lee protested. “Please don’t send me home, master.”
“I don’t really have a choice, sweetheart,” said Holden. “There’s a rule here about non-patient slaves, remember? We got lucky with that lady who let you come up, but the next doctor or nurse to come in here will probably kick you out, and if Alix leaves without you, that would mean I’d have to leave, too, to take you home. And I’m not leaving Jer.”
Jer had opened his eyes and was smiling up at Lee; he tugged the boy’s hand to get his attention.
“Don’t you worry about me, gorgeous,” he said. “Did me good to see you, you know? Nice to know you care. Hey, want to do me a little more good, before you go?”
“Yes,” said Lee earnestly. “Please. What can I do?”
Jer grinned at him. “Give us a kiss.”
Lee blushed again, and laughed, and looked up at Holden, who readily nodded his permission, then back down at the head on the pillow; he leaned down, timidly, hesitating.
“Come on,” said Jer. “All the way down. Can’t meet you halfway, on account of somebody kicked my fucking ribs in.”
Lee dipped down, one hand still clasped in Jer’s, the other braced on the bed next to his head; his lips brushed Jer’s swiftly, once, and then hovered uncertainly, a couple of inches away.
“Call that a kiss?” Jer whispered, and Lee’s mouth was on his, his eyes sliding shut, his lips hungry. One hand cuffed to the bed, one pinned by Lee’s to the bed, Jer kissed back. And kissed, and kissed.
Holden looked at Alix, whose eyebrows had shot up to her hairline, but neither of them made a sound. Finally Lee, crimson-cheeked and almost laughing again, broke the kiss and pulled back. Jer’s lips stayed parted, his eyes wide.
“Fucking hell,” he said huskily. “Alix, get him out of here before I do something the doctor won’t approve of.”
When they were gone, Lee pink-cheeked and bright-eyed and looking much happier than when he’d come in, Holden sat down in the chair where Alix had been.
“You really do look like shit,” said Jer, and Holden opened his eyes; he hadn’t even realized they had closed until that moment, which was a little worrying. “More than usual, I mean. And aside from the purple eye. You okay?”
“Fine,” said Holden automatically. “Just, you know. It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah, and it’s not over yet,” said Jer grimly. “You said the girl at Dunaev’s was okay, though? What was her name?”
“Gwen,” said Holden. “Yes, she seemed fine, considering. A little jumpy. And very closed off, but that’s probably for the best. I don’t want her getting too comfortable with us, until I know whether I have to give her back.”
“You won’t,” said Jer, his eyes half closed.
Holden raised his eyebrows. “What, you got kicked in the head and now you know the future?”
“No, just you,” said Jer, with an oddly satisfied smile. “You won’t give her back. She’s yours now.”
“No she’s not,” said Holden. “I have temporary custody, that’s all. The law can’t—“
“Not talking about the law,” said Jer, his eyes closing all the way. “Talking about you, kid. Holden. Holden Larssen. You’ll hand little Gwen back to Dunaev like you’ll wake up tomorrow with blue eyes and blond hair. Or like you’ll pay some nurse to sit in here with me, instead of staying in this hellhole until you can take me home.”
“It’s not a hellhole,” said Holden, after a moment. “It’s a very good hospital.”
“Said the man who’s not lying flat on his back with his wrist cuffed to the bed,” said Jer, rattling the wrist in question without opening his eyes.
“You want to trade places?” Holden asked, only half jokingly. “I could stand to lie down for a little—cuffed or not.”
“Bet you could,” said Jer, opening his eyes and looking up at Holden thoughtfully. “Hey—Holden— relax now, okay?”
“Oh, sure,” said Holden. “You’re a bloody drugged-up pulp, we’re all infamous, the house is surrounded, I’m charging a nobleman who wants to kill me and everybody I care about with attempted murder of somebody who isn’t legally a person, Bran and Lee are already in love with Gwen whom as you so kindly point out I’m probably not going to be able to hand back to her master even if it means sabotaging any case I could possibly make and putting the rest of us in danger, and Valor’s probably on her way home right now. I’ll just sit back and put my feet up, shall I?”
“My heart bleeds,” said Jer. “Settle down, Holden. It’s quiet here.”
“It’s a hospital,” said Holden. “Hospitals aren’t really relaxing. You just called it a hellhole.”
Jer smiled. “But it’s where you need to be right now, right? Protecting your— your--“ He laughed. “Your me. Standing guard. Or sitting guard. And here you are. So relax. Rest.”
At the word, Holden suddenly felt so tired that his eyes closed without his volition for the second time in as many minutes. This time he let them stay closed.
“Loki, Jer,” he said, and leaned his head down onto the railing of the hospital bed, hating the whine that crept into his voice. “Doesn’t it ever fucking stop?”
“Nope,” said Jer. “Not for you. You won’t let it.”
“Let it,” Holden repeated vaguely.
“You never let well enough alone,” said Jer. “You’ve always got to make it better. Of course it never fucking stops, Holden.”
“I’m tired,” said Holden, and felt a big, gentle hand brush lightly over his hair. It felt so good he could have cried. He didn’t, though.
“I know,” said Jer. “It’s okay. Just rest.”
The cab driver was either mercifully incurious or extremely discreet; he didn’t say a word about the crowd of cameras and notepads around his cab, half screaming questions at Holden and the other half mostly just screaming Lee’s name. He also didn’t blink when Lee, once they were safely inside the cab, climbed into Holden’s lap, shivering and clinging in a way that made Holden regret letting him leave the house so soon.
“Demian hospital, please,” he said to the driver, who answered impassively, “I know. You said on the phone.”
Holden didn’t bother correcting him. He ran a hand over Lee’s sleek dark hair, feeling the boy’s trembling slowly subside against him as the cab inched through the gap in the crowd made by the helpful police officers, and pulled away from the house.
“How does it feel to be a celebrity?” he asked Lee, who just clung harder and shook his head against Holden’s shoulder. “It’ll die down soon enough, kiddo.”
Lee didn’t say another word, and he didn’t budge for the rest of the drive to the hospital.
At the hospital, Holden paid the driver, adding a three hundred percent tip that made the man’s stoic mouth twitch at the corners, and slipped his arm around Lee’s waist, hustling him inside. He inquired at the information desk as to Jer’s whereabouts.
“Is that a slave?” asked the woman at the desk. “Non-patient slaves are not allowed in the hospital.”
“Oh, come on!” said Holden, and then, with an effort, softened his tone to add, “Please. He just wants to make sure his friend is okay.”
“It’s policy,” said the woman. “There’s nothing I can—“ She broke off, peering closely at Lee, and then at Holden, and then at something on the desk in front of her. Looking down, Holden saw the magazine with Denys’ article—and Robin’s photographs.
“That’s us,” he said. “The patient is Jer—he was just admitted a few hours ago. The owner who’s with him right now is Jamesen.”
“Oh my god,” said the woman, her eyes widening. “Is Jer okay?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” said Holden, “so…”
"Hey," said Jer drowsily from the hospital bed. "Look what the cat dragged in. You look like shit."
“Thanks.” Holden crossed the room, while Lee hesitated in the doorway, and leaned down to kiss Jer’s bruised, swollen face; Jer kissed back with uncharacteristic tenderness. It was several moments before Holden broke away to ask, "How are you?"
"Oh, I'm great," said Jer, pulling absently at the cuff that attached one wrist to the bedrail. “They’ve got me on something, for pain—they needed my owner's permission, but they said Alix counted, and she said give it to me. I always liked Alix; she told them to unchain me too, but they wouldn’t. I might run away, see. Or get stolen. Not very fucking likely, right, but that’s what they said. I want to go home. I know we can’t yet, though; I’m just saying.”
"He’s a little bit fuzzy, from the narcotic,” said Alix apologetically. “They said setting his ribs would be agony without it. Also, they said he probably has a mild concussion, but he hasn’t been confused or anything, just—chatty."
As she spoke, Lee came and leaned timidly over the bed, into Jer’s line of sight. Jer looked surprised, but by no means displeased.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, reaching up to brush the knuckles of his free hand against Lee’s cheek. “Gods, you are one good-looking kid, you know that? Holden’s got no taste; he always goes for blonds. And no sense, either,” he added severely to Holden, as Lee blushed and smiled. “Why’d you bring him? He shouldn’t be here.”
“He begged me to let him come along, and see how you were,” said Holden. “I didn’t have the heart to say no. So how are you? Concussion and what else?”
“We don’t really know yet,” said Alix, as Jer appeared distracted by Lee. “They did set his ribs, as I said, and taped them—and they said those and the concussion should heal fine on their own, as long as he’s careful and avoids exertion. But the doctor left after that, and we haven’t seen him for hours. I guess he must not be too worried.”
Holden nodded. “Where are Robin and Denys?”
“Long gone,” said Jer, his eyes still on Lee’s face. “They couldn’t chain her to the bed. Stitched up her head, gave her a handful of paracetemol, and she was out. Places to go, people to see. Tyrannical empires to overthrow. You go over to Dunaev’s?”
“Yes,” said Holden. “And yes. A girl named Gwen. I dropped her off at home before we came here. No visible injuries, no catatonia—she should be fine for now. I told her you’d take charge of her when you got home, Alix.”
“Good,” said Alix. “You’ve got enough on your plate. Am I taking Lee home with me, too, when I go?”
“Yes,” said Jer firmly. “Kid shouldn’t be here when he doesn’t have to be.”
“I want to be here,” Lee protested. “Please don’t send me home, master.”
“I don’t really have a choice, sweetheart,” said Holden. “There’s a rule here about non-patient slaves, remember? We got lucky with that lady who let you come up, but the next doctor or nurse to come in here will probably kick you out, and if Alix leaves without you, that would mean I’d have to leave, too, to take you home. And I’m not leaving Jer.”
Jer had opened his eyes and was smiling up at Lee; he tugged the boy’s hand to get his attention.
“Don’t you worry about me, gorgeous,” he said. “Did me good to see you, you know? Nice to know you care. Hey, want to do me a little more good, before you go?”
“Yes,” said Lee earnestly. “Please. What can I do?”
Jer grinned at him. “Give us a kiss.”
Lee blushed again, and laughed, and looked up at Holden, who readily nodded his permission, then back down at the head on the pillow; he leaned down, timidly, hesitating.
“Come on,” said Jer. “All the way down. Can’t meet you halfway, on account of somebody kicked my fucking ribs in.”
Lee dipped down, one hand still clasped in Jer’s, the other braced on the bed next to his head; his lips brushed Jer’s swiftly, once, and then hovered uncertainly, a couple of inches away.
“Call that a kiss?” Jer whispered, and Lee’s mouth was on his, his eyes sliding shut, his lips hungry. One hand cuffed to the bed, one pinned by Lee’s to the bed, Jer kissed back. And kissed, and kissed.
Holden looked at Alix, whose eyebrows had shot up to her hairline, but neither of them made a sound. Finally Lee, crimson-cheeked and almost laughing again, broke the kiss and pulled back. Jer’s lips stayed parted, his eyes wide.
“Fucking hell,” he said huskily. “Alix, get him out of here before I do something the doctor won’t approve of.”
When they were gone, Lee pink-cheeked and bright-eyed and looking much happier than when he’d come in, Holden sat down in the chair where Alix had been.
“You really do look like shit,” said Jer, and Holden opened his eyes; he hadn’t even realized they had closed until that moment, which was a little worrying. “More than usual, I mean. And aside from the purple eye. You okay?”
“Fine,” said Holden automatically. “Just, you know. It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah, and it’s not over yet,” said Jer grimly. “You said the girl at Dunaev’s was okay, though? What was her name?”
“Gwen,” said Holden. “Yes, she seemed fine, considering. A little jumpy. And very closed off, but that’s probably for the best. I don’t want her getting too comfortable with us, until I know whether I have to give her back.”
“You won’t,” said Jer, his eyes half closed.
Holden raised his eyebrows. “What, you got kicked in the head and now you know the future?”
“No, just you,” said Jer, with an oddly satisfied smile. “You won’t give her back. She’s yours now.”
“No she’s not,” said Holden. “I have temporary custody, that’s all. The law can’t—“
“Not talking about the law,” said Jer, his eyes closing all the way. “Talking about you, kid. Holden. Holden Larssen. You’ll hand little Gwen back to Dunaev like you’ll wake up tomorrow with blue eyes and blond hair. Or like you’ll pay some nurse to sit in here with me, instead of staying in this hellhole until you can take me home.”
“It’s not a hellhole,” said Holden, after a moment. “It’s a very good hospital.”
“Said the man who’s not lying flat on his back with his wrist cuffed to the bed,” said Jer, rattling the wrist in question without opening his eyes.
“You want to trade places?” Holden asked, only half jokingly. “I could stand to lie down for a little—cuffed or not.”
“Bet you could,” said Jer, opening his eyes and looking up at Holden thoughtfully. “Hey—Holden— relax now, okay?”
“Oh, sure,” said Holden. “You’re a bloody drugged-up pulp, we’re all infamous, the house is surrounded, I’m charging a nobleman who wants to kill me and everybody I care about with attempted murder of somebody who isn’t legally a person, Bran and Lee are already in love with Gwen whom as you so kindly point out I’m probably not going to be able to hand back to her master even if it means sabotaging any case I could possibly make and putting the rest of us in danger, and Valor’s probably on her way home right now. I’ll just sit back and put my feet up, shall I?”
“My heart bleeds,” said Jer. “Settle down, Holden. It’s quiet here.”
“It’s a hospital,” said Holden. “Hospitals aren’t really relaxing. You just called it a hellhole.”
Jer smiled. “But it’s where you need to be right now, right? Protecting your— your--“ He laughed. “Your me. Standing guard. Or sitting guard. And here you are. So relax. Rest.”
At the word, Holden suddenly felt so tired that his eyes closed without his volition for the second time in as many minutes. This time he let them stay closed.
“Loki, Jer,” he said, and leaned his head down onto the railing of the hospital bed, hating the whine that crept into his voice. “Doesn’t it ever fucking stop?”
“Nope,” said Jer. “Not for you. You won’t let it.”
“Let it,” Holden repeated vaguely.
“You never let well enough alone,” said Jer. “You’ve always got to make it better. Of course it never fucking stops, Holden.”
“I’m tired,” said Holden, and felt a big, gentle hand brush lightly over his hair. It felt so good he could have cried. He didn’t, though.
“I know,” said Jer. “It’s okay. Just rest.”
