Leon Orcot (under_arrest) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2018-06-15 15:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, alex, leon orcot |
Who: Leon and Alex
What: Leon wakes up with a belly full of bullets
When: Today
Where: Leon's apartment and then the hospital
Ratings/Warnings: Highish for blood and language
Status: Complete
It had started off normal enough. Leon had been dumped, and, temporarily heartbroken, had gone to see D. D, surprisingly, hadn’t picked a fight with Leon at all over it, or insulted him, or told him that he deserved it. Instead, he’d given Leon a freaking plant, with the hopes that it would make Leon feel better. And while Leon had tried to refuse, D had insisted that Leon would grow to love it in a couple of days, and, not having anything else to say, Leon took the damn thing home and was forced to find a place for it in his apartment. Gattolotto, D had called it, as if plants needed to have goddamn names.
Surprisingly, Leon did grow to love the damn plant. It really brightened up his apartment, and he found himself following D’s advice and reading to the damn thing. Going home to it was practically the highlight of his day.
And to make things better, he and the police force had finally managed to corner one of the gangs they’d been tracking. His partner had told him not to make any moves, to wait for backup to get there before they did anything. But when Leon saw them sneaking out the back, he couldn’t just sit there. It could be months before they managed to track them down again.
He jumped out from his hiding place. “Hold it right there! Don’t move!” he called.
“Take care of him, Clyde,” was the response of one of the gangsters; clearly the man in charge.
“With pleasure,” Clyde responded, and before Leon had a chance to react, he fired. Three of his bullets found their mark, one in Leon’s chest, two in the stomach. Belatedly, he realized that he’d been shot, and quickly, things began to dim. He saw Gattolotto’s flowers bloom before his eyes, and then he saw no more.
Leon woke with a gasp, in an unbelievable amount of pain. He brought his hands to his stomach, and was more than a little surprised when they came away red with blood. There was too much blood, way too much, and the pain was replaced with an icy numbness.
This was bad. This was really bad, and the thought came to him that he was going to die. He was going to die right here in bed. “Alex?” he asked, trying and failing to keep the fear from his voice as he reached next to him for Alex’s hand. He didn’t notice the cactus that had appeared on his windowsill.
Still without a permanent place of residence after having to give up his apartment, Alex spent most nights at the station where he signed up for extra hours so he could pull up a cot during the day. It wasn’t too bad, but he’d slipped into Leon’s place for an actual bed and the warmth of his boyfriend’s body against him. It was a quiet night off and Alex hadn’t had any new dreams. He was beginning to think his own were finished, that the new boat had been torpedoed and he and Tommy were just floating corpses.
He expected the night to stay quiet, but he should have known by now that wasn’t how these things worked, most especially when they had a sleepover. Touchy from his dreams and from working the job he did, all Leon had to do was lay his hand over Alex’s and Alex was awake even before Leon could say his name. He already knew what he was feeling smelling. That was blood. He knew it well and took no time to move from the warm bed, popping up in his boxers to flip on the light.
“No, no, no, no,” he repeated, shaking his head as he pulled his own t-shirt over his head. “What the fuck happened?” His hands were steady as he pressed the shirt against Leon’s bleeding stomach. He hadn’t heard anything. With one hand, he reached for his jeans that were on the floor and hit a button that instantly dialed the station; it would be quicker than dispatch. As he spoke quickly to one of his work partners, he left his hand pressed against the wound, forcing himself not to panic as blood pumped between his knuckles and ribboned down his wrist and forearm.
Leon's lips were already turning blue. A part of him tried to force his breathing to slow, to stay calm, but he couldn't. He didn’t want to die. He'd always been prepared for the possibility, but he didn’t think it would come so soon.
“I got shot,” he managed though chattering teeth, trying to force a smile. “Alex, I-" he started, but there was so much he wanted to say before things went black, so much he wanted Alex to know, that it all got stuck in his throat. He’d never thought it would he so hard to lift his arm, but he managed to, wrapping his fingers weakly around Alex’s wrist. “You can’t- you can’t let Chris see this,” he managed.
Throughout Alex’s career and dreams, nothing could prepare him for seeing the man he loved, bleeding to death from a gunshot wound. Alex forced himself to stay calm as he hung up with the station.
“He won’t,” he promised. “But I’m not leaving you until they get here.”
Scared and too afraid to show it, Alex still leaned in and pressed his forehead to Leon’s, taking in deep breaths. “Don’t close your eyes,” he said to him. “Don’t you fucking dare do it. I love you and you’re not leaving us.” Us, of course, being him and their boy. With his hand now free of his phone, he grasped on tight to Leon’s hand. “They’re coming,” he promised. “Keep taking breaths and keep those eyes open for me and for Chris.”
Before long, he could hear sirens and he could see the swirling lights outside. They wouldn’t call the cops, not for this. The dreams happened too much and they were all too used to weird shit all the time.
Leon tried to match Alex’ breathing, but it was getting harder to take even shallow breaths; the bullet wound in his stabbed sharply every time he took a breath, until he didn’t feel much of anything anymore.
He zeroed in on what Alex said, specifically that he loved him. Leon opened his mouth to say it back, and then closed it again. It was cruel, wasn't it, to tell someone you loved them for the first time and then up and die?
It took Leon longer than it should have to realize what the screeching outside was, or the red that flashed across Alex’s face were. He gave a weak smile of relief, and then everything faded and went black, his hand falling limp in Alex’s.
Panic and dread were emotions that Alex was used to in his dreams, all of which came out through anger. Grief was a different animal. The moment Leon’s hand had gone limp, Alex was atop him as his coworkers swarmed in to pull Alex off of Leon so they could work. The only thing that kept Alex from fighting them was Chris.
He’d heard the boy trying to come close and, without thinking twice about the blood on his hands and arms, was lifting Chris away from the scene of flashing lights and medics. It was all slow motion, taking Chris out of the line of sight, the bustle and muffled sounds of medics as they took the stretcher from the house. Alex hid Chris’ face against his chest as they moved Leon. Alex looked, he had to, and that dread filled his belly when he saw a coworker straddling Leon, pumping his ribs with his hands. Once they had Leon loaded up, Alex took Chris and wasted little time in going to the car to follow the ambulance.
To no surprise of Alex’s, he wasn’t allowed in the room where they were working on Leon. Instead, he was made to sit out in the hall in one of the uncomfortable chairs, holding Chris as the boy fell asleep against him. Police came by to question him, but Alex had no answers. What he did have was blood on his hands, so Alex was held and Chris was taken from him, to another room. Alex yelled and kicked up a fuss, but he was ultimately cuffed to a chair and asked more stupid fucking questions while Leon was surely in there dying. He was going to sick and was sure he was going to puke when a doctor came to tell him that he could come see him.
The police were reluctant, but they uncuffed Alex from the chair, placing his hands in front of him instead so they could easily lead him to the bed where Leon was resting. Alex paused at the doorway, too stunned to say anything. There was Leon, with a bunch of tubes and bull shit coming out of him. He’d been cleaned and covered up, but he didn’t look much like Leon to Alex. When he finally moved forward, he begged to be uncuffed, but the officer compromised and told him he’d go wait by the door if he agreed to stay cuffed. Alex agreed and moved to a chair, his hands on the bed rail. The cuffs gave a light clang against the metal. Alex rested his chin on the rail and forced back burning tears and a tight feeling in his throat that made it hard to speak.
“You gonna wake up or do I have to shake you?” he asked, his voice unsteady.
Leon's dreams continued. When he woke up in the hospital, (to the cries of shock and “it's it's a miracle!” from the nurses, which was a bit disconcerting) D was sitting by his bed, calmly peeling him apple slices that looked like rabbits, which almost would have been sweet if the second time Leon had met D hadn’t involved LA being overrun by man-eating rabbits. D told Leon that Gatolotto had died, and then Leon’s eyes opened for the second time.
The white was blinding, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust. When he turned his head, he half expected to see D still seeing there, but he smiled instead it see Alex. “Hey good looking,” he rasped, pulling the oxygen mask from his face.
A choked sound between a sob and a laugh escaped Alex’s throat. He leaned down and touched his lips to the corner of Leon’s dry mouth before a cuffed hand gently guided he mask back down. “You have to keep that on, idiot,” he said affectionately. Alex’ lips tightened as he pushed back tears, staring down at Leon in an attempt not to look afraid or relieved or a million other things that he was feeling just then.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he mock chided. “You’re not allowed to get shot in your dreams, you know, or anywhere else for that matter.”
Leon was going to answer Alex, but he was distracted by the feeling of cool metal against his skin as Alex adjusted his mask, and his eyes were drawn to the younger man’s hands.
“Why the hell are you wearing-" Leon started, his voice echoing strangely into the mask, before he realized what happened. He turned to the door, saw the shoulder of the officer standing there through the window, and yanked the mask from his mouth again.
“Hey, Officer!” he yelled, and the man walked in. “Get that shit off of him; Alex didn’t try to shoot me. No, I don’t want to hear your excuses, I want those cuffs off now. Why the hell would he shoot me three times and then keep me alive until the ambulance showed up? For the fucking laughs?”
“Since you're awake,” the officer ventured, a little timidly as he removed the cuffs, “we'd really like to get a-”
“How about,” Leon interrupted, “you give me a couple moments alone with my boyfriend and then I'll talk to you?” Or someone. Maybe he should ask for Logan or Hopps; they were both dreamers and would help him come up with something. But the uniform was already heading out the door and Leon turned back to Alex and put his, a little sheepishly, put his mask back on before Alex could say anything. “I really hate this thing,” he grumbled to himself, and then reached out a hand to take Alex’s. “I'm sorry,” for taking off the mask again, for worrying him, for getting him cuffed… “I’ll try not to let it happen again.”
It all happened too fast for Alex to do much more than allow it to happen. He was still stunned by the events of the night, waking up to see his boyfriend bleeding to death from a dream relate gunshot. What could police actually do? Nothing.
If you asked Alex, it was D’s fault.
D, the man Leon seemed so obsessed with.
But right now, ole Li’l Dicky D didn’t amount to shit to Alex who rubbed at his own wrists before taking Leon’s hands again. “Better not,” he warned. Then he frowned, his face going pale as he remembered everything that led up to their little ride to the hospital. Of course he remembered. It kept playing over and over again in his head. “Who did it?” he asked. His expression left nothing to be argued over. He wanted to know who it was and Leon wasn’t going to do figure eights around the question.
“Some guy named Clyde,” Leon said. “Part of the mafia. We’d been tracking him for months and I couldn't let them get away.” Leon couldn't very well admit that he’d gone charging in without backup, especially when he’d been told specifically to stay put until backup had arrived. That would just make Alex worry more. Looking back, Clyde and his boss had probably gotten away anyway while everyone had no doubt been taking care of Leon, waiting for the paramedics to arrive. “But it’s not important. That’s a different life. Move in with me.”
“Of course it’s important, you wanker!” Alex snapped, more than he meant to. “This isn’t a different life, what’s happened to you! It’s happening here!”
He would have continued ranting if Leon’s invitation hadn’t suddenly hit him. Leon hadn’t invited him before, but they weren’t That Couple anyway. They weren’t a couple of lesbians who brought U-Hauls to the second date. They were independent and Alex liked it that way, but he also liked being there, especially when there were dreams.
Which raised the question as to why Leon was asking in the first place.
“You’re mental,” Alex snorted a little. “Do you really want that or are you just asking because you’re on Dilaudid?”
Leon waited until Alex was done before responding. “Oh, is that why I feel so good?” he asked jokingly, in response to the Dilaudid question, but then he grew serious. “But it doesn't matter,” Leon responded, surprisingly keeping his voice level. For one, arguing took up more energy than he had. Even yelling at the uniform had been exhausting. “Clyde’s not here and he’s not gunning for me. I don’t even deal with organized crime here.
“And yeah, I'm asking you for real. I nearly bit it, Alex. I would have if you hadn't been here. With our dreams the way they are, it wouldn't make sense for us to keep living alone.” He took a deep breath, wondering if he wasn't about to make a huge mistake. When Alex had said it, he’d been scared and panicked. Who knew if he really meant it now that Leon was, more or less, okay? “Besides, I love you. That's what people in love do, isn't it?”
Alex fairly gaped at Leon. When Alex had said it, he’d meant it, no question about it, but he’d also been scared that Leon would burn out before Alex had a chance to say it to him. Alex wasn’t a man who said those words easily. Shit, he didn’t even think he’d ever said them before. Maybe he’d said it when he was drunk to some friend as a throw away thing, but nothing like this.
“Shut up,” was Alex’s response. They weren’t turning into that.
But Alex would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t like to hear it. He already knew it in Leon’s actions, though. They didn’t need words.
“I’ll move in,” he agreed, finally sitting at the edge of Leon’s bed. Because that was what people who loved each other did. Alex pulled a face. “Gross.”
“You’re gross,” Leon retorted, though he was smiling under his mask. With a gargantuan effort, he moved to sit up, but even with the drugs coursing through his system, a dull pain shot through his abdomen and, with a grunt, he was forced to lay back down. “If we’re going to kiss, you’re going to have to get down here,” he scowled, pulling off his oxygen mask again.
“Will you stop moving around before you bust something vital,” Alex scowled. This was just how they were and why they fit. Sharing I love you’s had never been on Alex’s radar, much less something he’d actually wanted to do, but when faced with death, it was sort of the thing to do. If Leon hadn’t made it and Alex hadn’t said it, he would have had to live with the regret. It wasn’t as if Leon was out of the woods either, especially if he kept moving around like that. Now that the words had been exchanged, Alex refused to turn into that annoying couple who said it a hundred times a day.
Alex made no argument. He leaned down and kissed Leon’s mouth, the cold oxygen from the mask rolling against his ear. He didn’t care. Leon was still here and Alex wasn’t going to go another night without him.