luke henry ; robin (notjustsidekick) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2010-10-14 01:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | batman, robin |
Who: Thomas and Luke
What: Luke wakes up after surgery. Yay.
Where: The hospital
When: The morning after this
Warnings: None
Dawn came and went, sending rays through the hospital windows that left Thomas even more tired than he had been in the gray twilight. He had a phone call with Alfie, in which he dumped a great many of his problems into her capable hands, and then he had a cup of hot but stale chamomile tea that he borrowed without permission from one of the nursing stations. Thomas only rarely indulged in coffee or anything caffinated, preferring to keep his body running of his own accord and not foreign assistance. He had a feeling the hospital would call the police as soon as they figured out that the wounds were definitely bullet wounds, if they didn’t know already. This was a good hospital; they probably knew. By rights, he definitely wasn’t allowed to be in this room. However, two of the doctors had been at the opening of the charity hospital he’d cut the ribbon at, and another was a surgeon that had pointedly looked the other direction--Thomas didn’t know why. There was a certain recognition there, and it wasn’t just for blunt trauma from under kevlar.
The tea was long cold at the little table against the wall in Luke’s room. He was the only bed in it; Thomas had a lot of money and he wasn’t under arrest yet. In a chair with his elbows on his knees, Thomas worried over that surgeon, trying to figure out if he’d seen or heard of that particular man before, rubbing circles at two pressure points right on the inside of his eyebrows. The daylight gave him a headache. Or maybe he had a headache and... it just so happened to be daylight.
Everything that happened after Thomas had brought him into the hospital was blurred together, a mess of shapes and voices that hovered over him just out of reach. It was hard to keep up so he simply stopped trying, content that he’d managed to protect both himself and Thomas from any implication of vigilantism. The doctors would take care of him now, and he had to trust in their ability to do so. When he caught the world ‘surgery’ and a calm voice told him everything would be fine, he willingly slipped into the waiting darkness and let everything fade to silence.
Time meant nothing where he was, in a deep state of restful slumber that nothing but his own will could interrupt. He could have been out for anywhere from a few minutes to a few months in theory, but realistically it was only a few hours before his eyes slowly opened and looked up at the ceiling with a hazy sort of confusion. Luke didn’t notice Thomas at first, too preoccupied with remembering why he was in a hospital bed and what happened to get him here. It all came back rather quickly, and without thinking he moved to push himself up into a sitting position. The attempt caused a faint stab of pain to shoot through his abdomen and he slumped back against the pillows, wincing slightly - mostly because of how strange it felt.. That was when he glanced to the side and saw Thomas, seated in a chair and rubbing his forehead. He looked tired, and it made Luke wonder how long he’d been sitting there. Whether or not he was actually allowed to be in the room never crossed his mind.
“Hey.” His voice sounded weaker than he’d been expecting, so he tried clearing his throat before speaking again. “What time is it?” The daylight coming through the window gave him a general idea, but nothing specific.
Thomas yanked his head up. They’d given Luke quite a lot of pain killers; Thomas had looked at the chart and knew them by brand name. There was a flicker of surprise, a peculiarly visible expression that was new on his face. So was the fatigue. His eyes moved toward the window and the angle of the sun there. “About seven thirty in the morning. You haven’t been asleep long.” Thomas sat back in the chair for a moment, then he stood up to his full height. Luke probably wouldn’t recognize the clothes from the back of the dull black car, but there were enough wrinkles that the theory probably wasn’t far away.
Thomas didn’t hesitate to come closer, and he looked hard at the screen somewhere behind Luke’s head before he looked down at him. He realized why people asked idiotic questions to people in hospital beds. (How do you feel?) He couldn’t think of anything else to say. After another moment’s thought: “You’re stable and you’ll be on your feet in a few weeks at the most,” he informed him, aiming for reassuring.
Admittedly he probably could have gone right back to sleep and been out for the entire day, but he refused to give in to the heaviness and would force himself to stay awake if he had to. “Oh.” He blinked, frowning slightly - it seemed like a lot longer than that. “Felt like longer.” The painkillers made it hard to refrain from saying some things out loud, not to mention how he had to struggle in order to focus properly. For a few moments Luke simply looked up at him, studying his appearance carefully before coming to a conclusion. “You haven’t left yet.” It was more than a guess, yet not entirely a stated fact.
Thomas blinked in surprise again. Apparently it would take more than a few bullets, surgery and opiates to prevent Luke from getting his measure, and after a moment he just nodded in acceptance. Yes, he hadn’t left, and he had no immediate plans to do so. He was hovering, either waiting for something he could attack or for someone else to be present to do the defending, and it would take some convincing to get him to admit that anyone else was capable of the latter.
It meant a lot that he’d stayed instead of leaving, but he managed to stay quiet and refrain from telling him it was okay to go - for now, anyway. Although he didn’t know what to say any more than Thomas did, it didn’t really bother him. Being in a hospital bed was new to him - he’d visited sick relatives before, but had never actually been admitted himself before. Looking down at his hands, he tried flexing his fingers and seemed satisfied when he could with only minimal discomfort. “A few weeks?” That caught his attention, as hazy as it was, and he glanced up quickly. “That’s not too bad. I was afraid it might be like... months or something.” His knowledge of gunshot wounds and recovery times was practically non-existent, but he was relieved to know he’d been wrong about his estimation. There was another, longer pause before he spoke again; and this time there was a hint of worry in his otherwise weary tone. “Have they asked any questions yet? What did you tell them?”
Thomas, who didn’t realize that towering over people in beds sometimes made them uncomfortable, stayed standing with a slightly bent knee that said he stood in one position quite a lot. He watched Luke’s fingers move with a dull fear that he didn’t recognize, but the emotion dissipated slowly, like salt in water, after Luke dropped his hands back down. “None of the bullets made it too far, and they weren’t fired close enough to give you too much damage,” Thomas said, his usual flat tone unchanging as he looked again at the vitals screen. He frowned down at Luke with clear concern marring the gray, serious eyes. “They asked. You were walking, I happened to be in the area, and neither of us know what happened.” It was a terrible story. Thomas stopped himself from shrugging at the last second, and instead put one hand on Luke’s shoulder very briefly. “I have it handled.” This was not quite a blatant lie, but it was close enough to the truth that Thomas could pull it off. “Don’t worry.”
It wasn’t exactly comfortable to have to keep looking up, especially since it felt like too much of an effort to actually sit up properly, but he tried to inch himself up a bit anyway. “That’s good. Well, better than it could have been.” If he’d been wearing his old costume, then he probably would have bled out before anyone could get to him in time. It hadn’t offered any protection - it was just something to mask his identity, nothing more. The kevlar had saved him, and the kevlar had come from Thomas. “If it wasn’t for your armor, it would have been worse.” Somehow ‘thanks’ didn’t seem like enough, but even without saying it his gratitude was evident.
The story was vague, which was part of the reason why it was likely to raise suspicion - but being specific offered the same risk. If they both stuck to it and refused to budge, with any luck it would work out. Although Thomas’ reassurance that he ‘had it handled’ was supposed to keep him from worrying, it did the opposite. Luke wanted to be sure that he would stick to that story and not change anything to make it seem like Thomas had been the one at fault. “You’re going to stick to that, right? Because if I tell them the same thing, there’s nothing they can do. Random shootings happen all the time.” That was a bit of a generalization, but he ignored it.
As soon as Luke made as if to move, indeed, as soon as he made any significant effort at all, Thomas seemed to come out of a kind of watchful daze. He looked around sharply, realizing that he was making it difficult to talk to him with the height difference, and he quickly dragged the chair from the wall next to the bed, sitting on the edge of it as if he might need to leap to his feet at any moment. The move put his back to the door, but his shoulder was slightly open so he had the door in his peripheral and he would catch movement before anyone got past the hallway. “Maybe he wouldn’t have come after you if you weren’t wearing the armor,” Thomas said, trying to keep his tone normal and lifting one hand to his forehead without realizing it.
He dropped it a second later. “We’re sticking to it, but they know it’s not true, so when the police come to you, they might tell you I said something else--but we’re sticking to it. I think I have enough lawyers to discourage keeping either of us involved when they’re operating on suspicion alone.” If Thomas had been the one in the bed, he would have wanted to know every single detail of what was going on regardless of his own situation. He assumed Luke was the same, and his communication was therefore a recognition of his condition rather than ignorance of it. Thomas paused uncomfortably and looked again at the window. “It would be safer,” he said, slowly, “if you stayed somewhere secure after you leave here.” The mask killer would be looking, and between Thomas’ unwanted press and Luke’s relatively significant injuries, they weren’t exactly off the grid.
He shook his head reflexively, frowning in disagreement. “He still would have come after me because I wear a mask.” That was his choice, although he was too tired to start arguing about how he was capable of making his own choices and accepting the risks that came with them. It was easier to talk now that they were basically on the same level, and all he had to do was turn his head to be able to look at him properly. “I knew that, and I accepted it. The armor kept me alive.”
Needless to say, Luke wasn’t looking forward to talking to the police despite understanding that they’d just be ‘doing their jobs’. “It doesn’t matter what they tell me. I’ll stick to it.” It was admittedly a relief that Thomas had the standing and influence to make sure the ordeal wasn’t dragged out, because he really just wanted to recuperate and continue on as normal without having to worry about police or suspicious doctors. Having some idea of what was going on was far better than being left in the dark, and he appreciated the fact that Thomas didn’t try to keep him oblivious. After a moment’s consideration he realized that he didn’t know of anywhere secure or safe, and gave a small shrug. “I guess. Do you think he’ll come looking for me?”
“You’ll be out of the mask,” Thomas said, frowning as he chewed over the mask killer’s behavior so far. “It seems to be the masks themselves that set him off, or he would not have gone after your girlfriend.” Not even a pause at the status. “It seems... unlikely that he knows the connection between you.” Thomas paused, worrying over that, sending it tumbling around the corners and halls of his mind, over and over, trying to find weaknesses. Finally he said, “Very unlikely.”
Thomas was aware that when the police came it was going to be an ordeal for both of them. There was no evidence on his person or that implied gun ownership, however, and he could think of three properties he owned in the area of that supplied a good excuse for him being nearby. “Just tell the police that you were walking home, and you don’t remember anything after that.” Once Alfie and her army of legal technicalities showed up, Thomas hoped to eel out of this problem for as long as possible. Luke was of age, however, and Thomas couldn’t shield him entirely without making it obvious that they were not new acquaintances. “Staying with me would be safer,” he said, abruptly.
“She’s not... she’s a friend,” he muttered, staring down at his hands. “ButI think you’re right. He cares about the masks, and I doubt he knows who I am outside of mine.” Yet. Of course, there was always the risk that the mask killer would find him once he was back behind the mask, but not even the painkillers could make mentioning that sound like a good idea. Still, that simply meant that he’d continue targeting the masks that weren’t out of commission. “The others are still in danger, though.” Surely they were more at risk than he was.
Luke nodded, stifling a yawn. “Alright.” He’d just keep telling them that until they had no choice but to accept it. Thomas had spoken so abruptly that it took him a moment to absorb what he’d said, and the surprise was evident in his expression. He hadn’t been expecting that. “You don’t have to do that.” He didn’t really know how to respond, recognizing that in a way in made sense but not wanting to be a burden. “I don’t want to... intrude. My apartment isn’t that bad.”
Thomas didn’t want to pressure Luke into doing anything he didn’t want to do completely. He was banking on a certain amount of trust to use later; he needed to convince the boy to stay away from masks and crime. He had a few weeks to do it, he realized, and there was nothing like a near death experience to drive the point home. He had to make him understand that this way was dangerous, and it would only get him killed. There had to be a way to convince him.
Thomas pushed it from his mind. Later. He shook his head. “I’m not there that much.” Though he would be if Luke was there healing; he most certainly didn’t take his tentative thought about the mask killer’s needs and motives to be absolute truth, especially since Luke’s safety was on the line. Thomas refrained from saying that. “Well, think about it, you’ve got a couple days yet.” Another worried (that’s what it was, worry) glance at the screen. “Rest,” he ordered, standing and withdrawing slightly from the bed.
“Oh.” He supposed that made him less of a burden, if he was going to have a huge apartment - because rooms in Aubade had to be big - all to himself. It still felt like an intrusion, though, which was the main reason for his hesitation. Fortunately he was spared having to make a spur of the moment decision, relieved with being given time to think things over and consider what to do. “Alright. I’ll think about it, and... let you know.” He wondered why Thomas kept frowning at the screen that was somewhere behind his head, but dismissed it when he felt another yawn coming on. “Okay, okay. I’m resting.” Luke leaned back against the pillows with a sigh. “I’ll see you later,” he muttered, voice becoming distant as he let his eyes close and he drifted back off to sleep.