Thought I heard them talking in their sleep yesterday [OPEN]

[dead_black_eyes]

Who: L, Tony, Belle and OPEN to anyone who might want to come visit them.
Where: One of Locke City's bigger hospitals.
When: August 18- 19
What: Two idiots get in a fight. Belle is a good listener for Tony and talks L out of a rash decision. Also a catch-all for visitors on the 19th.
Warnings: Profanity, violence, feels, two guys displaying some
symptoms of PTSD.




Sometimes, people could afford to be selective about the hospital they were admitted to. Specialized clinics and treatment programs, top ratings, and individual needs were all carefully considered during the best of times. Specifically, when one had the luxury of time.

This was not such an occasion. With one patient bleeding out in critical condition and the other in a dissociative, violent state of psychological shock, the only things that really mattered about the hospital were that they could be speedily admitted and that the facility had enough departments to reasonably accommodate both physical trauma and fractured mental states. The honor had fallen to Locke City's largest and most complete hospital, where Tony Sparado and Lazarus Lawliet had been sedated, separated, and taken to different wards on different floors.

This was two days ago. Now, some things had improved; Tony's condition had stabilized and they were both keeping down food. Other things remained uncertain; L, grimly committed to not answering the Mafia's questions during their captivity, was still not talking.

Regardless of what the future held, both young men would remember Albero's hospitality for a long, long time.

Comments

Closed to L and Tony- August 18

[dead_black_eyes]

After two days of being heavily drugged, the doctors mercifully began to reduce L's dosage. He was surprised to hear how much time had passed, was able to register the coming and going of Belle, and comprehended that she was currently taking care of his long-suffering business and handling employee affairs. He would have been grateful, but it was too subtle an emotion, getting lost in a swirl of others all vying for his notice.

For example, he noticed that Tony wasn't around, and that it felt horribly wrong. Despite being told that his friend was recovering, L wasn't in a trusting way since the revelation that someone had sold him out to the Mafia, and he wasn't about to just take someone else's word on it. That was why he slipped out from under observation during a shift change, removing his IV and donning a set of scrubs swiped from the linen cart that had brought him new towels. A surgical mask over his mouth and nose allowed him to pass undetected for as long as he needed to, which happened to be just long enough to look up Tony's name and room number, and make his way to the wing where he was recovering.

He let himself into the teen's room, no one giving him a second glance in his hospital-appropriate garb. They might have, if they bothered to note the slip-proof socks in place of the required closed-toed shoes, but fortunately, the hustle and bustle of large hospitals meant that everyone was simply too absorbed in their own duties to see a thin, shabby nurse lookalike slipping into Tony's room with a stolen clipboard held close to his chest to disguise the fact that he wore no identifying badge.

Once inside, he closed the door behind him, pulling a chair up to Tony's bedside, sitting silently and waiting for a feeling of cathartic completion that just didn't come, despite his confidence that it would once they were reunited.

[oncedevil]

They had to be careful with Tony's, he'd already reacted badly to too much morphine, so his world was more a haze of fog and pain than being intentionally kept under. He'd been in and out of consciousness a few times, each time he croaked the same questions, received the same patient answers from the nurses, then fell under to forget all about it all over again.

Though he may not have been dead, he certainly didn't look very alive, either. Slow, labored breathing, skin more purple and blue than ashen grey, and laying far too still for natural sleep. He was aware, dimly, that a presence had joined him, as he'd just been awake a little bit ago bothering a nurse for the nth time with where he was and how. After a little while of expecting the person to just finish with whatever business they had and leave him, he finally cracked open the one functioning eye to squint irritably at whoever it was sitting next to his bed.

Who are you and what do you want strange nurse? He just kind of grunted, as if inviting L to speak, because he sure didn't feel like doing it himself.

[dead_black_eyes]

To occupy himself, L wheeled his chair over to the foot of Tony's bed, reaching for the clipboard there. He was no doctor, but he'd spent enough time reading his own medical charts at various points that he was decently well-versed in the terminology. He caught himself up on what Tony had been through so far, feeling a sense of ownership; he had done this to the young man, after all, whether or not it had been directly. He was responsible, he deserved to know what was happening.

It was also so much easier to look at the chart than it was to look at Tony. His face was almost unrecognizable, except in the context that L least liked to dwell on.

When Tony stirred, L looked, for a moment, like he really wanted to talk, but as had been happening since about halfway through their imprisonment, the words died on his tongue before he even formed them. He did tug his mask down, though, setting it aside and drawing his knees up to his chest, clearly intent on camping out for awhile. They'd been to hell, but they weren't through yet, and the compulsion to remain near Tony, to keep him in his sights so he knew he wasn't going anywhere, was impossible to fight. He'd make up for every punch he couldn't prevent while he was tied to a chair by remaining here, and through some warped logic, that actually made sense to L.

August 19

[brotimaeus]

[For Tony]
He still has no idea what happened to him. It had been a rush of strength and drive enough to have him drunk on it. How many of them had he cut down before he'd gained control of himself?

Richard tries not to think about it while he sits at Tony's bedside, having blown off all idea of working until he knows that the kid is alright. Now and then he takes his hand, fusses at the way his fingers are lying, watches his face for any sign of consciousness with a steadily growing coil of nausea in the pit of his stomach. They could have tried to keep him away from Tony, but it wouldn't have worked.


[For L]
It's after Tony wakes up and they talk that he pays L a visit. It doesn't seem right not to, but it's a different feeling as he quietly opens the door and hopes to at least find him awake.

He has no idea of how much L saw of what he did, but that's not his priority. Approaching the bed, he clasps his hands behind his back and clears his throat. There's really no comfortable way to deal with something like this, is there.

[dead_black_eyes]

It turned out that removing one's IV, stealing scrubs to impersonate a medical professional and sneak into another patient's room, and getting into a fistfight with said patient were all somewhat frowned-upon. The only people who were really in trouble were the nurses and orderlies who had failed to notice L's little escapade, but they weren't the only ones being disciplined. The restraints pinning the detective's forearms to the bed said so plainly enough, even if they were to "protect" him from wandering off to participate in more heated fights with other patients.

On the bright side, Tony had succeeded in snapping that rigid silence, and then some.

He glanced aside as Richard entered, making brief eye contact with the other man. The last time they'd encountered one another, L had been literally out of his mind; he had doubted much of what he'd seen in hindsight, knowing it to be unreliable at best. Though he'd been a lousy shield for Tony, he'd tried, even if he'd probably made it more difficult to rescue both of them through his unwillingness, and genuine inability, to cooperate. He thought that Richard and Dirk had been monsters, even Tony, the Mafia men, everyone were monsters, and who could blame an overtaxed brain for seeing them that way and reacting the way he had?

"So..." voice cracking, hoarse from silence and then the shouting of the day before. "So Tony's doing better? I'm not... mad. If he's not mad."

[brotimaeus]

Richard made a soft noise that sounded close to helpless, mostly caught in the back of his throat. He pretended it didn't happen as he crossed the rest of the distance to the bed and pulled up a seat beside it. For a few moments, he debated whether or not physical contact was a good idea, but decided very quickly on 'not' and briefly curled his fingers around one of L's broken hands, skimming his thumb across the back of his knuckles.

It was a token gesture, really. What had happened had been taxing on all of them but he'd never seen L like that. He never wanted to see him like that again, either.

"Tony's alright," he said as he drew his hands back into his lap. "He ain't talkin' much, but I figure it'll be a while before he wants to."

Tony's turn

[oncedevil]

Arriving drenched in blood and unresponsive is definitely a good way to get the late-night Emergency Room crew worked into a frenzy. Fortunately not all of the blood was Tony's but enough of it to be alarming, more than enough. Cleaning as much as they could away didn't do much for his appearance, however. Underneath it all he was more bruise than not, you'd think he'd been hit by a truck, then backed over a few times the state he was in.

Twice his heart had stopped after they arrived, once before and once during an emergency surgery to correct heavy internal bleeding. After they'd reduced his morphine it hadn't happened again, thankfully.

Periodically he'd stir, whimper in his sleep, mumble incoherently through his dislocated jaw, but otherwise was quiet and still. Not exactly characteristic behavior of the normally energetic teen. The doctors assured he wasn't in a coma, he was just in very dire need of rest. Which L totally ruined by breaking in the day before and getting him all riled up spitting nails. Which wore him out back into heavy sleeping again. Rude, L.

Finally, after what felt an eternity of drifting in and out of a heavy fog Tony was able to break free. One eye cracked open, blinking blearily and confused by the bright light (bright to him, at any rate) and he made a concerned, confused noise. He couldn't see out of his other eye, and while that troubled him in a distant and disconnected way, he couldn't quite grasp as to why. His tongue felt too large and made of sandpaper, everything ached in a way that made him very much want to dive back into that comfortable darkness. But he was restless now, been sleeping too long, and now he was confused and lost.

Where was he and how did he get there exactly?

weh

[brotimaeus]

The stirring and more concentrated effort to wake was just what Richard had been waiting to see. He shifted forwards, the legs of the chair scraping quietly along the floor as he placed a careful hand on the young teen's arm and made a soft sound of reassurance.

"Hey, hey. Don't move too much. You're alright."

The state of him had Richard more than concerned. Tony was black and blue, lucky to be alive and for now.. well, suffice to say that he wasn't going to let the boy out of his sight for any longer than he had to.

"Just take it easy."

August 19- L and OPEN

[dead_black_eyes]

L hadn't even been in the hospital for four days and he'd had privileges revoked. Though he was allowed visitors, he was confined to his bed, strapped into it so he didn't wander off again to engage others in anemic fisticuffs. While he was talking again, he wasn't particularly full of cheerful things to say. Guilt and anxiety were keeping him busy enough.

He was bored and restless; the television was helping nothing. A bowl of jell-o sat untouched on a folding tray next to him; it wasn't like he could reach his own mouth with the spoon. He didn't want to sleep, since sleeping meant vicious nightmares, so his fingertips worried the edge of an envelope. Several papers were spread out on his lap; they appeared to be some kind of application. It was filled out for the most part, with just some dotted lines silently asking for signatures.

He wished that someone was around, if only to change the channel, even if he wasn't sure how he'd handle the company once he had it.

[dominateartimus]

Xander heard about the situation through the network and decided to stop by. Sure, he felt horrible for not responding to L's request for help, but he wasn't above the law and didn't want to do something he might regret by saving the other man. For now, he hoped that he could make a few amends by visiting and bringing a gift.

With his free hand, he knocks on the door before speaking, "...L? It's Xander. Can I come in?"

[dead_black_eyes]

L's request for help, and the assistance that had come, had gone down in the blink of the eye. Whatever reason Xander felt guilty over for not helping was going to be gently assumed to be far more noble, simply because the coordination hadn't exactly been something L had been able to keep an eagle eye on. He'd been too busy attempting to keep Tony from bleeding out with the tattered remains of his short-lived Armani suit.

He stirred at the familiar voice, wondering if it was really a good thing that his own was back in working order. While not being able to talk was undeniably frustrating, it was freeing in ways, too. It meant that people asked questions and didn't really expect answers beyond a certain point.

He cleared his throat. "You can come in, Xander."

[belphe]

A cursory knock marked Belle's arrival before she opened the door. After a couple of days of checking in on him, she'd become used to the idea that Lazarus was not likely to respond, favorably or otherwise, to someone's initial arrival. Seeing him awake and in a higher degree of awareness than he had been as of late, she hesitated in the threshold a moment.

"Is it all right to come in?"

[dead_black_eyes]

Whatever shock that had muted L had been reversed by his fury at Tony's drugged, capriciously resentful accusation. It had been painful and violent, but it had forced some important things back on track. Whether or not Belle actually expected an answer from the recovering detective, she'd receive one just a few beats after asking.

"...yes, it's OK to come in."

Tony - Open to a couple visitors provided Richard will allow, late 19th - 20th

[oncedevil]

Though he didn't look especially improved, unless you counted the increasingly fascinating rainbow of colors his bruises were turning, Anthony had finally stabilized fully. He was awake and alert more often than not, and though they still didn't want to risk raising his dose of morphine, he was handling milder pain relievers without any complications.

Of course that was when the boredom set it. One can only spend so much time sleeping, watching incredibly lame television, or staring at the ceiling before they start to get a little restless. He wasn't quite due for release, but man he sure could use something to do.

Not the Network though, he wasn't ready to face the Network just yet.

Care to drop in?

2oth

[ursoreckless]

Shou already dealt with the paperwork involved with bills that weren't covered by insurance. That had him dressed up in a suit and show up around noon to deal with all the people involved with said paper work, so it was around five by the time he came to visit. He was trying to be quiet, but in all honesty, anyone that's been in his presence would recognize him coming into a room long before he actually entered it.

After all, he does bathe in his favorite cologne, especially if he was going to dress up in a nice suit and be all presentable. So when he does finally steps into the room, it's on a cloud of the stuff.

eee Shou ;u;

[oncedevil]

Well lucky for Shou with a broken nose Anthony wasn't smelling much of anything. Though that cloud was pretty strong so he definitely noticed once the guy was actually in the room, but not at all prior.

For once he was awake when his guest arrived, currently enthralled in very carefully lifting the bottom of the bandages covering one of his eyes to test if he could still see at all. Though even the dim light in the room was uncomfortable, so he was quick to stop poking at it. For a moment anyway until curiosity got the best of him again.

He perked up at the sound (smell) of someone walking in, and looked rather taken aback at seeing who it was. Thank you, Shou, he really hadn't expected it. "Hey, wasn't expecting t'see you." Not displeased with the surprise at all, though. He still slurred a bit because, well, he couldn't really open his jaw properly and that was a problem.

For L, August 19th

[blastiaobsessieanonymous]

L's next visitor was, perhaps predictably, one of his staff. Britany Ruff seemed... More frustrated than anything, but she wasn't showing it too loudly on her face.

"Sheesh. I've only heard a bit of what happened, but... You look like hell."

[dead_black_eyes]

She was not the only frustrated person in the room, so perhaps the company would be of some comfort to the girl. L turned toward her; though he was no longer drugged to the point of stupor, his escapade to Tony's room had merited the use of arm restraints, which weren't particularly dignified or convenient.

What a great way for an employee to see him. He averted his eyes almost the second he glanced up at his visitor.

"Thank you for your honesty. It's refreshing."

So much better, anyway, than the people who tiptoed around his bed like they were attending a wake rather than visiting a person who was alive, just in trouble, despite being out of danger's way for the time being.

"I was reading back on the network, over things I missed. Congratulations on your inheritance, and..."

The words stuck in his throat. How did one say thank you for continuing to work at my dangerous business even though you don't actually have to work again a day in your life?

[blastiaobsessieanonymous]

"Meh. It's... It changes things, for sure; lots of new responsibilities. If nothing else, college juggling's going to make things harder in not too long. Right now, though... We've got more immediate concerns."

[evowhisperer]

[Closed to L]

It's a few days before Cesar can pull himself together enough to leave the apartment. Everything is difficult. He hasn't called his family. He's been absent from work, sparing only as much attention as needed to make use of stored up leave. He's showered for the occasion of going out today, but even now his hair is unstyled, and he has the hollow, faintly ashen look of someone who hasn't eaten or slept well. His clothes are loose.

The hospital room is empty of visitors when he reaches it. This is his first time visiting since his first check for his brother's survival, though he knows intellectually that both men suffered extensive injuries in the failed rescue operation. He stands just inside the doorway, eyes falling on the bed from that distance.

Lazarus still looks like hell. He's sitting up, now, propped up by pillows. Cesar's feet feel suddenly like lead, and his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.

What's there to say?

-----

[Closed to Tony]

He's had a few more days of distance, now, and he's returned to working regular hours again. He's tried to visit Tony before, but the last time Tony had already been wheeled out for some X-rays, and the time before that the young man just slept the whole time.

He's asleep when Cesar shows up this time, too. Rather than wake him, Cesar gives him a long look, and then sits down in a nearby chair, pulling out an electronic book-reader, calling up where he left off.

He waits.

[dead_black_eyes]

It turned out that removing one's IV, stealing scrubs to impersonate a medical professional and sneak into another patient's room, and getting into a fight with said patient were all somewhat frowned-upon. The only people who were really in trouble were the nurses and orderlies who had failed to notice L's little escapade, but they weren't the only ones being disciplined. The restraints pinning the detective's forearms to the bed said so plainly enough, even if they were to "protect" him from wandering off to participate in more heated conflicts with other patients.

On the bright side, Tony had succeeded in snapping that rigid silence, and then some. The words that had been trapped before still don't exactly flow freely, catching and false-starting often. The effect is pitiable when L is lucid... and terrifying, when he's not, if only for the subject matter those words latch onto. If L was a computer, the unfortunate user would be reaching for the cord, hoping that a hard reboot might let the problem work itself out, but unfortunately, human brains were rarely that simple, and L's in particular had always been volatile to begin with. As the corner of his eye catches movement in the doorway of his room, his heart monitor spikes, because that family resemblance is strong and striking, and it's like seeing that ghost all over again. In his current state, it's asking too much of L to distinguish between Moises and his brother, so his overtaxed mind defaults to the one he saw last.

"You said you forgave me," he says hollowly, staring through Cesar rather than directly at him. "I... still don't know how to tell your brother, but... I'm working on it. I'm working on a lot, we'll go back for you, and then maybe, when it's over we'll get someone to fix your eye. I'm... really sorry. But I swear I'll make it up to you. I just don't know how to tell Cesar."

[evowhisperer]

He stays silent at first, now for completely different reasons. He can't breath. The outside world feels as though it's frozen, but his mind grinds on mercilessly, churning L's words over and over. 'I just don't know how to tell Cesar.' He thinks he's not Cesar.

'We'll get someone to fix your eye.'

He thinks he's Moises.

Naked grief stomps all over his expression, and he trembles, struggling to control it. His voice is painful when he speaks. "Lazarus, it's me. Cesar."

[oncedevil]

When he first arrived he slept a lot, or was simply unconscious a lot, not a whole lot of difference between the two states. L's little adventure in wandering off to start fights hadn't helped, either. Between the exertion of being tossed out of bed and the sedative they'd forced in him, Tony had sunk back into immovable slumber.

Thankfully by now he was no longer under as strong a pull, so when someone slips into the room to join him there's a small blip on his monitor. Acknowledgement that someone was in the room, at the very least, even if not fully awake to realize who just yet.

More time passes, and for a while it seemed the teen wouldn't stir again. However, eventually he does. A small rustle, his one good eye cracking open sleepily and his head flopping to the side just enough to see who his visitor was. Imagine his surprise when it wasn't one of the usual he'd come to expect, Richard, or Shou? He didn't now Cesar, but looking at him was very much like seeing a ghost. A distressed sound escaped him, and while he tried to pull away he didn't exactly get very far. Kid wasn't in the best shape for flight right now.

Hello please don't kidnap and murder him he'd really appreciate that not happening today.

[feastorfamine]

Before being discharged, it seems L gets one last visitor. And it turns out to be one of his employees.

"Um, hello sir," she says, looking rather nervous about being here. She's carrying a small tin. "I... I wanted to bring you something..."

[dead_black_eyes]

L's things have been gathered and he's dressed and ready to be picked up, even if his shirt is one button off all the way down the row. As ready as he'll be, anyway; he has two weeks to prove he'll be all right living with someone he trusts to keep an eye on him, and after he succeeds in that capacity, he'll be a little more willing and able to celebrate something like leaving the hospital.

Tony was hurt, and Moises is dead, and L will never be the same. Running a business was hard before and he has no idea what the future will bring.

He sits in the chair that's been occupied by visitors this last week, every one of them brave souls. He hugs a plastic bag containing his belongings loosely to his chest, and glances up when he hears the door, surprised to see one of his newer hires rather than the ride he's been expecting.

"Amy," he says, trying to keep the startled edge out of his tone, running a hand through his hair, suddenly self-conscious of his rough appearance. If she's nervous about being there, he's equally nervous, since the situation doesn't exactly give him an air of authority or control. He looks lost, disheveled, and kind of out of it.

At least she's not seeing him in restraints. That's behind him, and will remain so, if all goes well.

"You just caught me. They're letting me leave as soon as my roommate gets here."