Who: Toby & March What: A trip to the hospital Where: Local LV hospital When: After this phonecall. Warnings/Rating: Sadness all around. Toby breakdown.
Toby could barely remember talking to the police, coddled together information given as March stood nearby, bits and pieces of a night that he had cobbled together, names given up, details laid out on paper, the promise of a follow up once the tests came back from the hospital. He would have preferred to simply go home and sleep it off, letting March set his nose at home under his care, but the hospital had been insisted upon and he was in no shape physically or mentally to argue very long. So he had let March drag him there, going along with the pokes and prods in the emergency room as blood was drawn for the tox screen to determine exactly what was in his system. A bag of ice and a saline drip later to help flush his system, and he was left in the quiet exam room to wait. Toby stared down at his blood-stained hands, trying to make sense of what had happened, where everything had gone so drastically wrong, and he couldn't put his finger on when it had started cracking and falling to pieces. His thoughts were still fuzzed over, the acid tripping through his system leaving him disconnected from the world around him in a way that he was wholly unfamiliar with. It wasn't a feeling he enjoyed, wasn't something he wanted to repeat, and all there was to do now was sit it out until he could feel again, even if that was hardly something to look forward to.
He withdrew the bag of ice from his swollen nose, the blood-stained covering that enclosed the ice pack, a faint laugh coming from him. "What the hell," he muttered, reaching up to touch his nose, feeling the swollen flesh, tenderness spreading across his face with the bruising that was blossoming over both cheeks. March was dealing with the doctors, doing what Toby would have preferred to be doing, leaving him with thoughts that were hardly comfortable.
March was sitting clear across the room, as far from anything that resembled blood as he could. He wasn't squeamish, but he'd made it a point to stay away from anything that even looked like it might be an open wound. Work didn't count, because no one came to hospice that wasn't dying in a few weeks. It was living people March worried over, and his brother was very much living. Toby had a broken nose, and that he was on something was clear, but he was living all the same. So March was far across the room, waiting on the blood results to see if poison control needed calling, and waiting to see if they were going to be spending the night with some activated charcoal and stomach pumping, but his training told him that wasn't going to be necessary. Whatever was in Toby's system, there wasn't enough of it to go calling for that. But, still, March worried.
Worry, that was what had brought March here, after avoiding hospitals something fierce. But he'd needed to come, and he'd already spent a good half hour in the hall with the cops that had ridden along with the paramedics, repeating what he knew about Toby's night. They promised they were going to head off and use Green Door's ID scan to figure out who had assaulted Toby, and that they'd bring him in, and March felt a little better. A little better, that was, until he'd sat himself down in that room and thought about the blood on his brother's nose. He considered telling Toby that Jan might be coming, but he held off. No point in getting Toby all worked up, and Jan might not even show; March didn't see a whole lot of him lately. "Son, next time, don't go to a sex club looking to get laid," March said, all easy grin.
Toby looked up at the sound of March's voice, giving him a long look with how long it took for those words to really process in his mind. When things finally clicked, snapping together almost audibly, Toby gave him a weak smile in return. "Wasn't that way," he explained, pressing the bag of ice back to his nose, wiping his hand over the thigh of his pants as though that might wipe away the blood on his hand. "She invited me out. Invited me there. So I went, because I thought-" Toby paused, staring off into the distance as he tried to piece together exactly what it was he had thought. "I didn't know what the place was, March. Not 'til I got there. Then- I didn't want to stand her up." Another pause, a faint smile coming to his lips. "Thought she liked me. I thought that's why she invited me out. But, I don't think that's it at all, now." There was a groan of frustration and Toby sat the bag of ice aside, both hands coming up to press against his eyes despite the pain his his nose, his cheeks. "God dammit."
"Why else would some girl invite you to a sex club, Toby?" March asked, trying to play the reasons through in his mind and coming up with only a few alternatives, most of which had to do with stealing. "Your wallet, you got it?" he asked, though he knew Toby did. He was more wondering if Toby's wallet was missing any money or cards. He would have reached a hand out for it, but he'd watched Toby wipe his hand and do not a damn thing to get rid of the dried blood on his fingers. Now, March wasn't big on violence. He'd never been the kind of man to throw a punch, but he wouldn't have minded just then. "The man that punched you, he with this girl?" he asked, angry and jaw tight, teeth a line of white that went on without breaking. He paused, expression thoughtful. "This girl, she the patient you were telling me about?" he finally, face lighting up like he'd just gotten down to the bottom of something plenty confusing. "She invite you out for sex?"
"I don't know." Toby swallowed hard, hands dropping away from his face, March's next question throwing him for a loop for a moment before he shifted up onto one hip to pull his wallet out from where he had put it in his back pocket. "Yeah, yeah, I got it," he said slowly, leaving it on his lap as he gave another shake of his head, soon replacing the ice pack on his face. He was quiet for a long moment, listening to March's voice, concentrating on the one thing that was steady in a world that was tipsy turvy every time he opened his eyes.
"I'm not sure. I think so? I don't know, though. Why would she ask me out if she had someone?" His brow furrowed for just a moment behind the ice pack, confusion writing itself across his face. And then the question came about the patient, if that was Sam, and Toby was shaking his head even before the words were fully out there. "No. No. That's- no, that's not Sam. I wouldn't do that. Sam…" He trailed off, his lips pressing together in a tight line. He wasn't hung up on her, wasn't even that fond of her after tonight with all the hurt wrapped up in what had happened. "I met her at the hotel. That's all." And that seemed so long ago, so uncomplicated even if it hadn't felt that way at the moment.
"Not all folks are trustworthy, Tobe," March said, feeling very much like the older brother from where he was sitting clear across the room. "You can't just believe everything they say, and some folks date more than one person at a time. It don't mean she doesn't like you. It just might mean she's dating an ass," he said of the man who'd thrown the punch. Toby had spent his whole damn life protecting him and Jan, and even with his confession about Iris, March couldn't believe his brother capable of any real wrongdoing. No, these folks he'd gotten mixed up with were just out of his league. "Were they using drugs too?" he asked, just a hunch, a few minutes after the doctor came and went with the toxicology. March might not have finished his residency, but he knew all the party drugs out there, and he wasn't surprised to learn it was one of those in Toby's system. But, he reminded himself, Toby was going to be fine. Sure, his nose would be a little crooked, but the drugs in his system were real low, and nothing had been stolen. Now, he was just left wondering what kind of folks Toby was messing himself up with these days. Him and Jan, they were obviously going to need to do better at watching out for their older brother.
Toby didn't say anything for a long while, until well after the doctor had come and gone, his chest feeling tight with anxiety over everything that was happening. "She called him to come get her after she asked me to meet her there," Toby said after a couple moments of silence, shifting the bag of ice to his other hand. "Then she met me anyways. I don't know what that says about her." He let out a long breath, a shudder towards the end of it. "Yeah, I think she was," he answered a moment later, his voice thick. "I don't - I should have just left then. Should have taken that as a cue. But I was just - I was hoping." Hoping for what was another story altogether, and one that Toby wasn't entirely sure he could even tell.
"You were hoping she liked you," March filled in. "Sounds like she was going to cheat, and she had second thoughts," he said, circling back to the call the girl had made to her boyfriend. "Either way, you deserve better than her, you hear?" he asked, dragging a hand back through his dark hair. "They'll arrest her boyfriend for assault, and maybe they'll learn something about messing with innocent folks," he said, conviction real strong in his voice. "Meantime, you'll have more character with that nose. You were already better looking than me and Jan. Now it'll be even," he joked, because he'd be damned if he was going to sit there and focus on that bloody bag of ice or, worse the damn germs he imagined were everywhere, buzzing all around him and waiting to get him sick.
There was a small nod of agreement to March's assessment of the situation, because as hard as it was to hear, Toby knew what happened back there wasn't strictly about him. He had just gotten messed up in something, the fall guy for something that was far and above him. "Yeah, I know. And if he gets arrested, he deserves it," Toby added a moment later, pulling the ice away to look at the bag again, the dirtied paper they had given him to cover the bag up with, and then his gaze slowly tracked over to where March was sitting across the small room. "You don't have to stay, March," he said after a moment, suddenly feeling stupidly selfish for putting his brother in this situation. He knew better than that, at least he did when he had all his faculties about him. "Police are dealt with. They'll release me soon. I can get a cab home. So you scoot, before something happens." That was the last thing he needed, March getting sick because he came here, exposing himself to everything this building held. It pissed him off that he had asked in the first place, though he hadn't known who else to call other than Jan, and he didn't think Jan needed to see him like that.
March agreed about the man that broke Toby's nose getting arrested, and he was about to agree about leaving when the door opened again. He knew it was just plain cowardly, but hospitals and him, they just didn't mix. And Jan was coming. He could wait out in the lobby until Jan came, and he could meet up with Jan after. Jan never minded sitting a spell with Toby, and maybe it would help the two brothers mend fences. Plus, March was worried about Jan lately, but he wasn't a psychiatrist, and heck if he knew how to help with Jan's issues. He didn't want to go breaking promises and telling Toby what was going on there, either, not if Jan hadn't fessed up, which March was thinking it likely that he hadn't.
But the door opened, and the same officers from earlier made their way into the room. They didn't look quite as forgiving now, and March had spent enough time doing internships to know when officers came in looking to talk to victims or assailants. These cops, they looked like they weren't real sure anymore, and that made March sit up real tall.
The cops greeted Toby, and they asked him if he had a minute to talk to them, but even March knew the question wasn't really a request. He was all confusion as the officers related Neil Donovan's story, which went real different in parts from Toby's. According to Neil, who'd been brought down to the station, his girlfriend - Sam - had called and asked him to pick her up. That matched up, but the officers said the man insisted that Toby knew the girl had mental problems, and that he was involved with the girl's sister, Iris Russell, a patient of his. That was when March slouched, head in his hands, realizing this was a whole lot messier than he'd thought. The cops went on to say that Sam was drugged, and that it was real obvious, and that Neil only punched Toby to get him to back off.
March didn't interrupt when the cops looked at Toby, wanting his side of things. It was all hearsay, but they could go talking to Iris about it, and it would look plenty bad for Toby if they did.
Toby looked up as the door opened again, expecting another doctor coming to give them some further news, but the appearance of the officers from earlier gave him a sinking, heavy feeling in his stomach. He was all nods when the officers asked if he had a minute, listening as they told him about their visit with Neil, his side of the story, and up to a point, Toby was following along. But then came the parts where he they said he knew Sam had issues, that he was involved with Iris, and that's when Toby's world got real dark in a hurry. He could feel his vision tunneling, the way things did when bad news was relayed, the kind of news that you didn't know how to deal with, the same way he had felt when they told him his dad was dead. It was good that he was sitting down because Toby was quite sure that his legs wouldn't be able to support him just then.
"I made it a point," Toby started, speaking slowly and carefully, enunciating each word through the haze of acid and alcohol that was quickly diminishing with the panic that was settling in in its place. "I made it a point not to know too much about what Sam was going through. She wanted a friend. Not a doctor." He stopped, swallowed hard, one hand clenched white-knuckled tight in the ice bag, paper crinkling. "And I'm not involved with Iris. She was my patient, but her care has since been transferred to another doctor I felt could handle her case better." Another pause, his vision tunneling a bit more, darkness creeping up on him. "I would have let Sam go if she had asked. She didn't. He came in and pulled her away and punched me. I hardly- I hardly even hugged her. I never would have hurt her!" The words were coming faster then, his heart racing fast enough to make him light-headed, fingers kneading the bag of ice. "I didn't want anyone to get hurt, alright? I didn't-" He stammered over the last words, tripping over his own tongue before his chin dipped to his chest and he went real quiet, chest heaving with every breath he tried to pull in, finding oxygen a precious commodity he wasn't getting enough of.
The officers took notes, and March let them go on until Toby started getting all worked up. "You heard him. He didn't know anything about this girl, and she was the one who invited him out. Seems it's just a personal mess, and my brother wasn't the one that went throwing punches. If the girl wanted to be with him, then that was her right." He was calm, and he didn't mention Iris, because Toby had as much as denied being involved with her, and March didn't want to go contradicting. Toby didn't need jail, and jail wasn't going to do a damn bit to make him better. And, in the end, the cops went off. March knew no one would get arrested, and they might not even go looking for Iris, not in a city as busy as Las Vegas, and this was all just damn he-said, she-said.
"Calm down, Toby," March finally said, once the door closed. He was all damn confused about what had happened at that club, but he didn't think anyone was going to implicate themselves willingly, so that meant he couldn't just believe what the cops were saying, not when his brother insisted otherwise. "Her boyfriend was angry, son. That's all," he said, because it was what it all sounded like in the end. The girl had tried to step on out, and her boyfriend had found out, and Toby had gone paying the price. He didn't want to think too long on what it meant that she was Iris' sister, because there was something uncomfortable there that didn't need thinking about just then. "Let me get them to come check your oxygen," he said.
The sound of the door closing was a distant thing, something far off that Toby couldn't quite connect with himself. Now the cops knew about Iris, people were saying that he was involved with one of his patients, just when he was on the cusp of going to the board about it himself. He heard March speaking, knew there was something there that he needed to pay attention to, but just then things were too much. "I need to go home," he started, rational thought out the window in a way that just wasn't Toby. He plucked at the I.V. in his hand, pulling at the tape, his eyes stinging. "I need to go home. That's all I need right now. Just home. Okay? Help me get home, March. Please." People were going to look into him. Look into Iris. He could see things from here, how things would end up. All because he had been a little lonely. Because he thought it might help them both. Lines had been crossed and once you were over them, there was no going back, no amount of apologies and pleading that would make it better again.
Toby's hand shook as he pulled at the tape, and he could feel his grip on things sliding, that firm control he had on his world finally slipping, and that scared the hell out of him. His job, his role in this world was to keep it all together. Keep it together for his mom. For Jan, for March, for every person that crossed his path. That's what he did. And now it didn't seem he was capable of doing even that. Frustrated with the tape, with the needle stuck in his hand, Toby thrust it in March's direction, his gaze bright and wild. "Help me. Please." It wasn't just about that I.V., not in the slightest, the question heavier than anything else he had asked of his brothers in a long time.
March backed the hell off. "I can't touch anything on you, Toby, and you can't leave here," he said, panic and a cough at the nervousness that tickled the back of his throat when that needle came close. "You get back in that bed, or I'll call the damn doctors. Those cops don't got a thing on you but another man's word, and that won't get him anywhere. Now, you lie yourself back down," he said, already looking for the emergency button that would call help to come. He backed up further still, because there was that blood from Toby's nose to go on contending with too. His blue eyes were intelligent and bright, and he reached for the nurse call button and mashed it hard and good. "Get back in bed, Toby."
"I need to go home, March. I just want to go home." It didn't matter that the cops might not pursue the information on Iris, the simple thought that someone could, that it was being waved around in front of him, that was enough to let the panic set in. But when March refused to help, he didn't push, didn't beg him further, but he did double down his concentration on that tape, infuriating as it was. Fingernails scratched at it, pulled it up, the needle soon going with it, and that was the one thing he needed. Success, minor as it was, but it was enough. "Get me a cab. You don't have to come with me, but call me a cab, okay? I just- I need to get out of here right now. I can't be here. I can't." He was rambling, the words strung together on a thread of panic that was pulling him further and further down. Toby was a mess to look at, bruised face and a shirt that was more red down the front than its original colour, setting off pale skin and the dark bruises beneath his eyes.
March just stood there, knowing the nurses would come running at that red call button getting mashed. And he was right; mid-ramble, the door opened, and March just stepped on back as the nurse came in and gave Toby a look that was down-right concerned. She told him to get back on the bed, and she stepped forward to help, but she mashed that button herself as she moved forward, something in Toby's carriage letting her know that she might need help. And March, god help him, just stood there and watched the blood droplets slide down Toby's hand from that IV.
"Toby," March repeated, trying not to think about the blood flowing from Toby's nose. "You lie yourself back down like she says," he insisted.
If Toby had been in his right mind, he would have noticed the signs, been able to diagnose himself in a heartbeat, but he wasn't and he couldn't, and there wasn't anything rational about the thoughts going through his head right then. The requests for him to get back in the bed seemed more than he could possibly stand at that moment, something about that bed making his heart race, the panic swell until he couldn't think straight. If he stayed, they'd come. They'd ask question. They'd find things out. There'd be assumptions made, and all the fingers would be pointing in his direction. He'd failed everyone. They'd know, and they'd take him down for it, for all those failures that dotted his past. He hadn't been enough for dad to stay around. Hadn't been strong enough to keep mom from doing what she had done. He wasn't enough for March, for Jan, for any of the number of people in his life that looked to him for support. Bad son. Bad friend. Bad brother.
Toby backed away from the nurse, shaking his head fiercely, until the corner of the room was at his back and all he could do was crouch in the hope they'd overlook him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said over and over, arms up over his head, pulled down into a ball in the corner of the room as he sobbed. He felt too heavy to stand just then, too heavy to even breathe properly, something crushing in on him as he tried to shrink away.
March just watched his brother curl up in the corner, and he wasn't surprised when the nurse turned and gave him an apologetic look. He knew where this was going right off, and he wasn't sure if he thought it was good or bad. After this, even if Toby got himself up on the bed, March wasn't real sure he should go home. He wasn't sure if all this panic was over Iris, but he planned on contacting the woman once Toby was calmed down. And, at this rate, he was wishing he'd never told Jan to come.
That was March's thinking as the doctor walked in, followed by the psychiatric consult that was on for the evening. March stood himself back, knowing they wouldn't risk medicating Toby, not with drugs in his system. They'd try to get him secured, and March wasn't sure he was up to standing there and watching that. But, luckily, his view was obscured as the psychiatrist moved himself forward, words all soothing about how Toby needed to get himself up on the bed, that everything was going to be just fine. But the two orderlies that lingered in the door with straps, just out of sight, they said something real different.
March backed himself toward the door.
The words, soothing as they were, went right over his head, but it seemed that the fight was out of him for the moment. He didn't resist when the doctor put a hand beneath his arm to help him up to his feet, didn't fight when he was helped back up onto the bed. His head was swimming, his thoughts rattled around to the point where nothing quite made sense, and he was just settling down when he caught sight of March edging towards the door.
Rationally, Toby knew why, and he wouldn't have blamed his brother for the exit, but just then, it felt wrong. It wasn't quite abandonment that he was feeling right then, but the people in his life he had failed turning away from him. He didn't blame him, but it did bring on a fresh slew of emotion that he wasn't quite prepared to handle. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he started repeating, a litany of apologies through the sobs, hands coming up to cover his face, pressing against the bruises, shaking his head back and forth. There were only three people in the world that he didn't want to disappoint, and one of them was standing there near the doorway, and he could only imagine the things that were going through March's mind right then.
Toby levered himself up again, tried to work his way back off the bed, one hand out towards March. "Please. Please. Please don't go," he all but begged, the words breathy, choked with tears. "Don't leave me. Please don't leave me," because that's how these stories went. You failed. They left. And Toby had failed them all.
March breathed easier when Toby didn't fight the doctor. He'd already imagined a slew of screaming, all while that straitjacket got settled into place, and he didn't know if he could handle even hearing that. Because March, he wasn't anyone's hero. He'd never been. It had been Toby that had saved all of their damn lives, and he knew plenty well that he and Jan weren't made of strong stuff. So, he was real glad when Toby played nice. He didn't come on into the room, though, because there were droplets of blood everywhere, and he just couldn't let himself near it. He knew it was silly, and that he wasn't going to get anyone sick, or to get sick himself if his damn sneakers slid on some blood, but it was just something he couldn't shake, and it was the whole reason he'd never done a useful damn thing with his degree.
But he was trying, March was. He was trying to get himself moving forward, but then Toby started trying to work himself off the bed again, and all March could see was that bloodstained hand, the one where Toby had gone and yanked the IV out. He shook his head. "I'm just waiting outside," he said, trying to sound all kinds of calm, but failing. "I can't, Toby. They got to clean you up first," he said, backing up more, and he was in the doorway then, and even the doctor was nodding that he should go, because it was either in or out, and March wasn't making a damn thing better by lingering there. And he wondered, dammit, when his brother had gone mad, and why they hadn't noticed.
There wasn't much Toby was counting on in those moments, but March staying, being there, not edging out the door like he was afraid of him, that had been one of those things he was relying on. And when March backed up to linger in the doorway, becoming further and further away from him, something in Toby just kind of… broke. His hand fell limply to the bed, and there was no more fight as they got him back to the mattress, the orderlies with their straps motioned in moments later to secure him to the bed to ensure that he wouldn't be up again until things were better, Toby didn't fight a bit of it. His eyes were bloodshot from crying, a mess of blood, bruises, and tears, and he simply stared up at the ceiling as the doctors did their thing, soothing voices washing over him.
March only stayed in that doorway a second longer, and then his sneakers squealed as he left the room, the door swinging after him. He knew he'd just gone and left when he shouldn't have, and dammit if he shouldn't have let someone else deal with this. His hands shook like leaves, and he cursed his damn self. A glance back toward the room revealed no screaming, and he just turned and kept on going. He'd talk to Jan, and he'd talk to Iris, and that was all he knew to do. There was a reason he hid in his damn apartment, and this just went and proved it. But then, he didn't talk to Toby about his problems, so there was no way Toby would know, was there?