Chapter 18
Spencer lost it when the truck pulled into a gas station and the ambulances and patrol cars flooded the parking lot.
He lost it when they helped him out of the truck and he got separated from Duncan.
Howling, he had started thrashing, wild.
Any self-restraint bathed in that shock gone when he felt hands on him, holding him tight.
Arching against the restraints on a gurney he could barely feel, but he had been strapped down, needles pushed in whilst he screamed.
His senses numbing as something got pushed on his face.
No… no… no… his voice gone, his eyelids fluttered, his vision blurring, all those blurred figures leaning over him.
Struggling to breathe, to stay awake whilst he couldn’t get any of those nonsense words. Darkness.
Waking to blue sky framed in a metallic window, a mask on his face.
Weak, his hands trembling, he pulled the mask off, feeling that soft padded cuff on his bandaged wrists, he almost went into a fit of rage again.
No… focus… His mouth dry. He turned to his mother’s voice, his father’s, blocking that lush light as they leant over him. She crashed on his chest, sobbing.
“My son! Thank God! Spencer!” Stroking his matted hair back, her eyes filled with pity. “Your hair… they cut your hair off on the right… How will you look?”
Spencer couldn’t talk, all his words drowned in that suppressed, mad anger, in his shock. Feeling his father peel his mother off.
“Leave him some air… he’s alive, that’s all that matters. The police are here to talk to you… but you don’t have to talk if you don’t feel like it… Oh, and maybe we should ask for a transfer to Riverview… This is a public hospital.” That disdain in his voice, laced with disgust.
Spencer had started trembling, his senses overloaded by his parents blabbering, his mother’s soft sobs. Fuck this. “I… I need the nurse…” Knowing those tremors all too well. Watching his parents stand there, he reached for the caller, nursing his hate.
A nurse arrived shortly; her smile bright as she pushed his bed up. “Awake? That’s good news.”
Spencer lips quivered. “I need… I…” What to say? Steeling himself, he opted for the only truth he had never admitted to anybody, not even to himself. “I am an alcoholic… so… I need stuff to survive… now.” He was shivering, sweat pouring down his brows.
Her face fell a bit but she hurried outside.
His mother stepped closer. “What did you say? Forget this nonsense! You like your drinks but you’re not…”
This time, Spencer’s eyes went to her, filled with his rage. “But I am. I am. I am!” He had snapped, only held back by the cuffs. “Fuuuuuck!” Tugging at them, he almost pushed the caller when the nurse came back with some fluids.
“Here. Let me fix you up.”
“Untie me.”
She looked at him, unsure. “I’m not sure you’re ready to be…”
Spencer sighed, taming his voice. “I was tied up there… where we were… this is scaring the shit out of me, so please.”
She nodded and undid the cuffs.
Spencer rubbed his wrists, the pain flooding him. Still, he grabbed the nurse’s hand when she was ready to leave.
Soft, not to alarm her. “Where’s my bodyguard?”
“Who?”
“Duncan Lambert. The man who was with me. My bodyguard… he…” Eyes wide, hoping he was wrong.
“I don’t know… I can ask?”
“Please…”
Henry patted his hand. “I’m sure he’s fine.” Gesturing at the window giving on the corridor, at uniformed policemen standing on either side of the door. “You’re well-guarded. No need to fret about Duncan…”
“He saved my life! He did. We got out because he made us get out. He did. Not the police. Not you. Not fucking anybody. So I don’t fret. I owe that man my life.”
“And I’ll make sure he gets a nice sum for it, too.”
Spencer whined a laugh, fed up. Burning. Watching a doctor walk in, holding a tablet.
He stood over Spencer with that professional soothing smile which made Spencer’s skin crawl. “How are you?”
“My bodyguard?”
The man smiled and glanced at his tablet.
“He’s had surgery and is recovering in the ICU.
He’s conscious but resting for now… Lost a lot of blood and that right shoulder will need time.
The bullet tore through but broke bones and muscles, anything in its path.
Ex-military like him are as tough as nails, don’t worry. ”
“I want to see him.”
“Not possible for now. You need to rest too. Whilst your injuries are minimal, I’m worried about your nerves.”
Spencer laughed, bitter. “My nerves have been frayed raw for a while.”
Henry spoke then. “Doctor, do you think we could ask for a transfer… to Riverview. Not saying you’re not all professionals here but Spencer is used to better surroundings and service.”
“No.”
They all turned to Spencer who had answered before the doctor even had a chance to open his mouth.
Martina gasped. “Spencer! What nonsense is this?”
“Fuck off, mother. All of you. I’m not moving from here.” Not moving away from him. But he kept that to himself, determined.
“That’s not your call, Spencer.” His father looked incredulous.
“It is, actually. The young man is an adult.” The doctor just kept that smile. “If he wants to stay, you have no say in the matter I am afraid.”
Spencer smirked. “The young man wants to stay, yes.”
His mother huffed. “Nonsense! And the press! How will you give them a statement in this shabby room?”
“I won’t… and if all you can do is worry about the press and my hair, you can leave now. Before I ask you to fuck off.”
The doctor shifted on his feet. “There’s something else…
” Meeting Spencer’s eyes. “You had a scan when you came in and a blood test… and your liver is in a sorry state.” He looked at all of them, the stunned parents, and into Spencer's dark eyes. “It is in such a bad state that I have to tell you now, if you don’t limit your consumption of alcohol, it might just shut down at some point.”
Spencer swallowed, floating a bit. “I see…”
“I’m truly sorry.”
“And if I stopped… if… would it heal?”
“You’re young, so anything is possible at this stage. I’d say no alcohol, a healthy diet and lifestyle, and you could maybe salvage it.”
Martina blinked at the doctor. “He’s sick?”
“His liver is, so technically, yes.”
“Because of drinking a bit?”
Spencer snickered, dark. “Mother… of course it’s because of alcohol.” His eyes went to the doctor. “That’s a right fuckery, but I suppose you play, you win.”
The doctor shrugged, readjusting an IV bag. “As I said, it’s not too late, maybe…”
Henry looked at Spencer. “You could go back to that rehab centre…”
Spencer laughed softly. “That golden cage? No, thanks… they never managed anything.”
The doctor raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been to rehab already?”
Martina perked in. “The Meadow, nonetheless! A prime resort! But of course not good enough for mister self-important here!”
Spencer gave her a tried look. “I almost died, kidnapped… good to know you have your priorities right by calling me names.” He raised a hand to shut her up and looked up at the doctor. “If you’d have an address for a centre catering for 'common' people, I’d very much like to have it.”
Martina’s eyes went wide. “You can’t go to one of those shabby places with all sorts of alcoholics and junkies.”
“But I’m both, mother.” Somehow, it felt good saying and watching her face contort with wrath and outrage.
“Spencer! I have no words!”
“Then shut up.” Looking back at that silent doctor. “So?”
“I’ll get you an address. The psychiatrist will be here to see you soon.”
“Great…” Impatient, he looked at his parents. “Just go… I’m too tired to bear your nerves and hissy fits.”
Martina just pointed her phone at him. “Don’t think for a minute we won’t capitalize on your story. I sold it to several tabloids already.”
“Fuck you.” It was soft, like a final cut.
“You will regret your behavior, as ever, Spencer. Brat!”
She stormed out and Spencer had to laugh softly.
His father squeezed his hand. “I’ll see you soon. Think about The Meadow, please?”
“No…” Swallowing that bitterness coating his throat, his mind screaming for a drink. “No, thanks.”
He watched him leave then, giving him a small wave too because somehow he could forgive some things to his father, drifting too in that golden world. Now to fuck off.
Tearing his IVs out, he swung his legs to the floor, dizzy, but determined.
Fortunately somebody had left Crocs near his bed so he slipped them on.
Raking his hair, almost whining a laugh at his right side being cut short.
Fuck. Almost laughing. Walking to the door, he just opened it and faced the cops off.
“I’m going to the psych level to get evaluated.”
One of them blinked at him. “We haven’t been told…”
“Well, I’m telling you now… it’s not a prison, right?”
The other just shrugged.
Spencer ambled away, looking for a map of the building.
Nobody gave a shit about him, mingling with the other patients, the visitors, the overworked staff hurrying down the corridors.
ICU… third floor. Taking the elevator, all too conscious that his hospital gown was almost open in the back.
Shit. Laughing a bit, even if he had boxers on, he stood at the back, waiting. Ding.
Getting out, he waited until the nurses left the main station. Quiet on that floor, but he went from room to room, peeking in. Not him, not this one either. Finally, he could see through the window that shape he knew by heart, his dark hair, his hand on the sheet covering him.
Spencer pushed the door in, and all but collapsed on the bed, jolting Duncan awake.
What…? Blinking that fog away, he had a hard time focusing and realizing whom he was seeing. That initial fright and adrenaline rush gone as soon as he felt that familiar touch on his forehead. His vision clearing, meeting those dark eyes framed by his hair. On one side.
“Hey…” His throat was so dry, Duncan could only whisper the word.
Spencer grabbed that cold hand on the covers. “It’s me. How are you?” So worried, it choked him up, his tears threatening to spill.
Duncan almost slurred the words. “Good? I think… I’m pumped full of stuff…” Grazing that small piece of plastic sticking out of the back of Spencer’s hand. “You tore your IVs out?”
“Yes. I had to see you… I want to stay with you.” He leant his head on Duncan’s abs. His right chest had been bandaged, drain tubes hanging down the bed, dark with blood.
Duncan grazed his hair with his left hand. “Hey… I’d like that…”
Spencer relished in his touch, in his heat, even of it was faint in that cold room filled with the scent of meds and ozone. He was wondering if he should tell him, but somehow, the words wouldn’t stay in anyway.
“I’m sick…”
Duncan pushed at him so Spencer straightened, meeting his eyes.
“Sick?” That worry plain in his eyes, it almost made Spencer tear up right there.
“Yes. My liver. Seems like my steady diet of whiskey and spirits didn’t do it any good…”
“How sick?” He couldn’t sit up but took Spencer’s hand.
“It might not be too late… if I… stop now.” He sighed, determined, lacing his fingers in Duncan’s. “I will go to rehab… not that posh fuckery of a place… a proper one, with real humans healing… and maybe giving a shit and not just taking your money.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage.”
Spencer gave him a weak smile. “Maybe… but not without you?”
Hoping, even if he felt messed up beyond belief, his bravado had been wiped out by what he had lived, and that doctor’s pitiful look.
“I’ll be there for you, of course… if you still want me after…”
Spencer just sealed those parched lips. A soft kiss, not wanting to tire him. “I want you…” Smiling, he reached for a cup near the bed and helped Duncan take a few sips. It warmed his chest, that caring, that he could make him feel better. His eyes roaming around.
“No cops?”
“What for…”
“To guard you.”
“Oh…” Duncan grinned, feeble. “I’m not that important.”
Spencer’s dark eyes never left him. “You took that bullet instead of me… I know.”
“As it should be. I told you. I would die for you.” He had meant it too, and not just because he was paid to do it. He knew, that he had taken that bullet because he would have never let anything happen to Spencer. Not ever.
Spencer’s voice, soft. “That is fucking madness.” Chuckling, but he stroked his hand down Duncan’s cheek. “And I would die for you.”
Duncan smiled, weak. “You little stick…”
Spencer bumped the left side of his chest softly. “That little stick will soon show you what he can do…” Winking.
They turned to a commotion on the corridor, a nurse, trailed by the two cops who were supposed to guard Spencer. Glancing in, she came in when they recognized him.
“What are you doing here? You’re not allowed to be here!”
Spencer smirked but stood, giving one last look at Duncan. “I’ll be back soon…”
“Alright…” He let his hand go, reluctantly, his heart hammering.
Spencer faced that pissed off nurse. “No harm done? I had to see my partner.”
“Partner?”
Her confused eyes went to Duncan but Spencer just gave her a wink, and joined the cops, letting them escort him back to his room.
Duncan watched them leave, smiling at how Spencer had that not giving a shit attitude he was always trailing with him.
His touch still on his skin, Duncan clenched his fist softly to keep the feeling there, Spencer’s scent on his face, his taste on his lips.
Closing his eyes, he drifted off, at ease.
Knowing that Spencer was fine. Hoping that he would be, that he could maybe heal.
Knowing that no matter what he would be with him.
All the way. Whatever way that would be.