shadowed [ten]
Shadowed
Status: completed
Warnings: LOTS of them; see tags
Rating: R
Word Count: 102k
Matt can't stop reading Josh's copy of Memento Vivere. It's not even like he identifies with any of the characters, or appreciates any of them all that much. It's just that there's something about the writing - the way Smith writes that draws Matt in again and again and again.
He's read it six times in the last week. With everyone out and Rick working on accounts hard, he has a lot of time to kill, and Josh sure isn't helping him with doing anything.
"I'm not going to tell you what our plan is," he says one night when he returns from work and starts right back into it when he gets in their room. "It'll only work if you don't know. All right?"
Matt sighs. He's getting a little sick of this whole thing. Josh won't tell him and Dallas hasn't even called or anything since last time. It's annoying. He wants to know. He feels like he needs to know, but nobody wants to tell him anything about the plan. He's frustrated and bored and for the first time in his life, he's almost wishing that one of the clients were coming to pick him up.
Still, the end of the week comes and goes, and Bill returns from vacation in the same form as how he'd left, and offers nothing to quell Matt's anticipation of the upcoming week. Still, he only gets him on weekends, and late one night, Matt realizes with a start that he's already gone through what he hopes to be his last appointment with Bill.
Josh wakes him up one morning and the only thing he says is, "Today," and then he leaves. Matt spends hours trying to figure out that today is the day he gets out, but at ten thirty, Jon shows up from work. Early.
He never comes home early.
"Rick's got the money," he tells Matt. "So get your shit and get in my car, you're going today."
Matt gathers his things, trying to remember when Dallas said he'd be out. Before the end of last week? Before the end of this week? Did he even give a time? Jon tells him to hurry up and leaves Matt throwing clothes into a large denim bag Jon had given to him.
Come on, Dallas, he thinks desperately, get me out of here.
Jon brings him to an abandoned gas station on the closer edge of town, about ten minutes away, where a car is waiting and two people are standing next to each other in front of it. Matt knows that one of them is Rick, but not until Jon parks his own car does Matt realize that the other one is Josh.
Oh, thank Christ, he thinks. He slumps back in his chair. "Don't get an attitude, I'm still your father, and I can still whup your ass." He instructs Matt to get out of the car and stand next to Jon until he gives the go ahead. "I don't want that bastard playing any games. I don't trust him." Matt doesn't blame him.
Josh plays the part of creepy rapist well, and for a while, Matt wonders if that was the plan all along - to get somebody for Josh.
Finally, Jon laughs a final laugh and says, "All right, well, I suppose you guys can head on home, then; Matt's got a bag in the car, not that he'll be keeping it for long, I imagine."
"Oh, sorry, I still haven't gotten fully moved into Rick's yet, so my car's still full," Josh says, not even glancing at Matt as he says it. He's moving in with Rick? Matt hopes this is part of his plan. "And his car's got something wrong with the belt, so we only have mine."
"Why the fuck you only telling me this now?"
Josh kind of shrugs. "Sorry, man. Guess I kinda forgot."
"All right, well. We'll drive out to your place. Rick, you lead. I'll follow you out in a minute."
Rick nudges Josh in the side. "Shame, huh? And I'd really been looking forward to the little pup ridin' with us, but I suppose my car's kinda got a history of breakin' down at the most inopportune times."
"Get going! I gotta get back home soon." Matt watches as Rick and Josh head back to their car, and Jon grabs him by the upper arm back and brings him back to his Pontiac, holding on to him with one hand while he tries to find his key.. "Damn it. If I didn't know about Rick's car trouble, I'd definitely think that there was somethin' fishy goin' on here."
Matt nods. "Um… If it's okay for me to ask, since when is Josh moving in with Rick?"
"Shit!" Jon curses as he drops his keys. They clink to the ground. "A few days? He only got his stuff out this morning. Rick's been lookin' for somebody to live with for a while, somebody who approves of his… lifestyle choices, let's say." Jon laughs a little. "Yeah. Anyway, you'll be livin' with the both of 'em. Damn, these keys are slippery. Like they're covered in butter or something, I swear to God."
Matt sees movement out of the corner of his eye, but doesn't move to look at it. Jon keeps talking about how much more freedom he's gonna have once Matt's gone, and during, he must drop his keys six more times. "Fuckin' keys! I'm gonna kill the fucker who made these so slippery!"
A heavy clunk meets Matt's ears, and his father slams forward to hit the car. His hand drops his keys again and he turns back around to face his attacker.
"You fuckin' bastard," he mutters; Matt turns around, too, not sure if he should be afraid or not. "Knew you were cookin' something up."
Dallas. Matt's heart thumps erratically through a split second of adrenaline and he almost smiles. "Right," he says. His fists are in the air, like he's expecting Jon to retaliate. In truth, Matt hopes he does. Jon definitely deserves to lose a fight. "Get on your feet, asswipe. Let's see what you can do."
Matt doesn't move as Jon stands up and chuckles. "Come on, boy. I got years on your ass, you really think that you're gonna beat me?"
"Hey, it's worth a shot, right?" It all happens so suddenly. Dallas goes down in a matter of seconds when Jon starts in, and when he hits the pavement, he yells at Matt to get in Dallas' car and find Josh.
"No!" Matt calls back, suddenly surprised by his courage. Dallas is getting his head pummeled into the street and he's saying no. "I can't-my mother, I can't just leave her there!"
Dallas manages to get one heavy hit, right to Jon's skull, in before he swears and says, "Then grab the keys and go get her!"
So he does. He leans down and picks them up, grateful that Dallas seems to be ahead in the fight for a moment. He leaves Dallas' car, instead opting to just run, go, go, go, as Jon calls back at him.
"You son of a bitch! I'm gonna get you!"
He keeps going. He trips a few times, losing the keys underneath a parallel-parked car on the side of the road, and the kids playing outside give him strange looks as he pounds his feet against the tar, cars honking at him as he blatantly skips past the intersections and do not cross warnings, but he's not focused on his surroundings. He's focused on finding the small grocery store so he can find his way to Jon's house.
He swears he sees Liam and his sister, Laura, driving in his car - they even go so far as to honk the horn at him - but Matt keeps going, going; Jon's house is in sight now, and Matt slows down before he gets there so he won't trip over his feet trying to stop.
"Matt!" someone calls; Matt spins to see Dallas jumping out from his car on the other side of the road, and Matt has just a split second to wonder how he'd gotten here quicker than Matt before he says "Matt, open the doo-!" just in time for Matt's father to tackle Dallas to the ground. The sick sound of fists and feet on skin reach his ears and Matt has to turn around when he sees Dallas' blood spray down on the pavement.
The key. Get the key! He reaches above the door, struggling to get the key from its spot.
"Never touch this, all right? If the door's locked when you come home, you wait, right fucking here on the porch, for me or Rick or Harlan or somebody else to get you. Don't ever let me catch you fuckin' around with this key and this lock, or I'm going to have your ass for breakfast."
"Open the fucking door!"
Moving from his spot next to the key's hiding place, Matt rushes to unlock the doorknob and the deadbolt. His heart thumping wildly in his chest, he has to slam his body weight into the door to make it open. His mother screams violently from her bedroom, muffled by the walls around her. Daemon rushes up to him, but doesn't bark - just whines. Luckily for Matt, he stays out of his way.
He rushes to the bedroom where he knows his father keeps his mother and struggles with the doorknob: locked. How's he supposed to get her out without a key?
"Here, found these in his jeans," Dallas wheezes from behind him, jangling the keys Matt had dropped at him. "Jon's unconscious. I don't know for how long, though, so hurry up."
"Where's Josh?" Matt asks, his hands shaking as he tries each key to open the door. His mother still screams loudly from the inside.
"He's taking care of Rick," Dallas says, gently shooing Matt to the side after he drops the keys to the floor. "I think he's making sure that the police get a hold of him before he runs the country. There!" he slams open the door and Emily's screaming stops, but only long enough for her to gather scripture together before she starts muttering that under her breath.
"Hey, hey, hey, hey! It's okay! It's okay, don't worry, you're safe. We're gonna get you out of here, we're gonna keep you safe," Dallas says, moving into play much quicker than Matt, who finds himself shell-shocked by everything.
His mother sits in her bed, staring up at the ceiling and speaking loudly, in phrases Matt can't quite comprehend. Dallas easily picks her out of the bed and pushes her through the door, instructing Matt to take his keys and get the car.
"But what about-"
"Go, Matt, please!"
So he does - rushes outside and his hand shakes as he presses the unlock button on Dallas' key chain, running towards it to open the back door and his feet trip over what feels like nothing and before he knows it he's eating pavement.
"You no good son of a bitch! You know what I'm gonna do with you when I get rid of that bastard in my house?" Jon tripped him. Matt flips over in the street only to have Jon's feet kick at his ribs. His left hand is dripping blood onto the pavement and Matt's shirt. "I'm gonna lock you up in a room, and just like your mother I'm going to start selling you out from your fucking bedroom.
"And that Josh kid, that new one, I know he's in on this. I still haven't seen either him or Rick, and you know what? I'm pretty sure that he's fuckin' Rick over out of this deal, too."
A gun. Jon has a fucking gun and how is he going to-how has he even made it this long without-when Jon's always had great shot. "So, this is what we're going to do." His voice is much more confident now that he has a gun in his hand. "We're going to bring you back into the house… And we're going to pack up our shit… and we're going to leave. Mexico, maybe, for now. There we can start anew. And maybe," he laughs, looking up towards the sky. "Maybe I could talk Bill into coming with us. Give you a little bit of… familiar scenery. Make the change a little better, easier."
Jon cocks the gun. "So get back inside, right now. Or there won't be time left to do it."
Matt tries to get to his knees, but Jon kicks him in the ribs. "Did I say you could stand up?"
"Jon, get away from him." Oh, thank God, Matt thinks, almost daring to breathe, still staring down into the pavement under his hands and knees.
"Who the hell do you think you are, you fairy?" Jon says, staggering backwards and pointing the gun towards where Matt imagines Dallas must be. "You come into my home and fuck up my life and think that I'm just gonna let you take my only son away from me just because you don't think that's okay."
Matt looks up to see Dallas pointing a gun at his father as well. He almost has half the mind to blurt out, "Where the hell did you get that?" Common sense tells him not to.
"I didn't fuck up your life, asshole; I'm trying to save Matt's."
"That's not your right."
Dallas laughs and sort of shakes his head. "That's anyone's right when the kid's parents can't do it for them. And since you royally fucked over his mother and you're trying to do the same to him, I suggest you shut the hell up about who's right and who's wrong in this situation."
Jon doesn't say anything, so Dallas continues. "Put the gun down, or I shoot."
Now it's Jon's turn to laugh. "You put the gun down, or I'll shoot."
Dallas cocks the gun and points it at Jon's chest. "I'm serious." And before Matt can fully gather what's going on, he hears the crack of a bullet shooting out and Dallas crouching in pain.
"So am I."
Matt watches as Dallas goes for Jon's his left knee. He swears he can hear the bullet shatter the bone, but Jon starts screaming too quickly to actually hear it.
"You son of a bitch!"
He knows he needs to step in, so he tackles Jon and sends the gun spiraling and sliding down the street. Unfortunately, Jon is quicker and has him in a grip at the hair as soon as he does it. "You're mine," he hisses into Matt's ear as Dallas tries to pick him up off of Matt. "And don't you ever fucking forget it." There's a dark, crazy look in Jon's eyes that sends a wave of ice through his veins. Dallas struggles with Jon for a few moments, finally managing to make him pass out while Matt watches without focusing his eyes.
"Get in the car," Dallas instructs, limping back towards the house.
"Dallas, I-"
"Get in the car!"
He rushes back towards the house and Matt leaves the backseat door open for Dallas to strap Emily into, but, contrary to what Matt expected, after securing her seat belt, Dallas walks around the other side of the car. "Driver's seat."
"I can't drive! I don't know how!"
"It's not that hard; brake on the right, gas on the left, gear shift in the middle." Dallas drops into the passenger seat and pulls out a first aid kid from under the seat, looking through it. After a moment, he throws it to the floor, cursing. Matt's not sure what he was looking for, but it evidently wasn't there. "We have to get to a hospital," he says, "and I can't drive with this leg."
"Sure you-"
"Okay, I could, but I'm sure that the surgeon that's going to have to get this out of my leg isn't going to particularly appreciate me spending twenty minutes in traffic getting to the hospital. That's only going to give me a lot more pain and fuck things over for the surgeon. I'm not going to be that guy unless I have to, and I don't have to.
"Besides, we have to get me and your mother to the hospital, so you're being a hero to two people today, all right?" Dallas grips at his leg. "Christ, this hurts."
Starting the car per Dallas' instruction, Matt says, "Since when have you had a gun?"
"Got it a little bit after I first met Jon," Dallas says with a groan, pressing down on his leg above the gunshot wound. "I just figured it would help me a little, if something ever happened to you or me or something. Just a… precautionary measure, you know?"
Dallas keeps talking on the way to the hospital, though for who's sake, Matt's not sure. He's very careful as he maneuvers his way through the city, following the blue H signs placed about the streets.
Matt pulls into the emergency parking lot of St. Augustus Hospital, carefully avoiding any place that says Ambulance - DO NOT PARK and parks. "All right," Dallas says, opening his door. "You gotta get your Mom out of the back, I'm not sure that I can."
"Okay," Matt says, mind on autopilot. This is so strange. So strange; his mother's still muttering in the backseat, having yet to say a word that sounds anything remotely sane, and Matt really has no idea what to say to her to make things better for her, to make her stop muttering. Still, he grabs her from the backseat and lets Dallas drape an arm across his shoulders as he brings the two of them into the emergency room.
Once the automatic doors open, hospital staff all jump together in a joined effort to make the three of them as comfortable as possible. "Oh, dear! What happened?" an African-American nurse asks, immediately bringing up a wheelchair for Dallas.
"It's a long, long story," he says, sighing as he sits in the wheelchair. "But before you get me in, could you maybe check out this lady?" He gestures to Emily, who's holding onto Matt for dear life. Matt swallows out of reflex of the anticipation coursing through him.
"Well, sir, I'm not sure when we'll get either of you in. There was a seven-car pileup on Highway Ten through Staples, very bad day, and we're getting all of the injured." She looks very apologetic, especially when she notices the wound in Dallas' thigh. "I'll see what I can do for you in the meantime, though. I have a few forms for the two of you to fill out…" She eyes Emily, then asks, "And just fill out what you can for this lady, here.
"I think we have a psychologist on hand that may be able to help her that's available today." She smiles as best she can. "I'm Sherry. Please, if anything more comes up while you're waiting, let me know."
She leaves for a moment, just long enough for Matt to find the three of them a spot in the waiting room, and returns with three clipboards for them. "Here. I wasn't sure if something had happened to you, too, young man, or…" She hands three of them to Matt, who shakes his head.
"Oh, uh, just my mother and Dallas."
Sherry nods and takes it back. "Alrighty." She sits down to his level and says, "If you'd like to see these two once they get in a room, you may want to make sure you put yourself down as family for each of them, regardless of your real status." She frowns. "Now, I'm not supposed to be telling you that, so don't say I did, but…" She looks at him with a pitiful expression in her eyes, and stands back up. Matt just watches. "You look a little lost."
He chuckles humorlessly. "I am a little lost."
With that, she returns to her post. Matt quickly fills out as much of the form for his mother as he can - leaving social security number, phone, and address spots blank - while Dallas fills out his own. "Matthew Riley," Dallas mutters when Matt's writing his own name under emergency contact for his mother. Again, he pauses at address. "Domestic partner…" He ignores the glare that the senior couple sitting across from them sends him.
Matt groans softly. "Really? We're doing that again?"
"I'd like to make sure that you get into my room for safety reasons, you know. In case Jon gets here before we can get the police involved and he tries to take you home when I'm… otherwise incapacitated. Besides, you saw that nasty hand of his, and shit, even with his knee alone, he'll probably be here eventually." He clears his throat when he notices the older couple seated across from them and rests his elbow on the arm of the wheelchair. "Anyway, don't try to say you're not, not now. You heard what the lady said. I'd like to know that you're still with the living while I'm going through surgery." Seemingly to piss off the couple in front of them, Dallas grabs his hand and squeezes. Matt immediately takes his away.
Matt stares at address, thinking. "Shit. I can't put down Jon's address, they'll send all the medical bills there, and if he just goes back-"
"Put down mine," Dallas says, and hands his clipboard to Matt for reference. Finally, when Matt's finished filling in both his and Emily's address and phone number areas, he stands up. Dallas grabs his fingers before he passes. "Could you maybe ask for an ice pack? My head's really starting to kill me."
Wandering up to the nurses desk, Matt hands in the two forms and points back towards Dallas. "Would I be able to get an ice pack for him?" He smiles, hoping it doesn't look too flimsy or overexcited. "He's got a nasty head wound and anything that can help would be very much appreciated."
The girl behind the desk peeks over the counter at Dallas, who looks quite pale from this distance, and nods. "Just a moment, sir." After a moment, she returns with an ice pack. "I'm sorry, I don't have a towel for you," she says apologetically. Matt thanks her anyway.
When he returns to Dallas, he takes the pack gratefully, but when he touches it to his head, he hisses in pain. "Damn, I was really hoping that would work." He sets the pack on his lap and starts ripping at his t-shirt with his teeth and fingers. Matt catches sight of the bruises on his stomach - angry purples and blacks - and has to turn away. The sound of fabric ripping breaks the murmur of voices in the waiting room, and Matt watches, along with the rest of the room, as Dallas rips his shirt around his torso for a line of fabric to put between the ice pack and his head.
Dallas sighs in relief as he presses the t-shirt ice pack to the crack in his skull and grimaces at the immediate change in temperature. "Matt… you gotta tell the police what's been going on and report all of those asshole clients. Okay? You can't keep living like this."
Matt turns away, hearing what Dallas isn't saying in the back of his mind: I can't keep living like this. "I know." But he doesn't want to. Dallas sighs again. Emily continues muttering on the other side of Matt.
"I love you like-" Dallas pauses, eyes flickering to the couple. "I love you. I really do. But, Matt, the thing is… b-lovers do stuff for each other that they don't think twice about. It's the nature of a family; a normal family just does it, no questions ask. They trust one another and they know that their family wouldn't want them to do it if they knew something was going to go wrong."
There's that word again: normal. Dallas says it like he's trying to get a reaction, like he knows how hard the punch is to Matt's stomach and wants him to give into the pain. "I know."
Dallas groans as he stretches his sore leg out. "Okay, let's try a different tactic… As much as I loved getting to punch the shit out of your father, I'd really prefer it if I didn't have to endure another ass kicking on your behalf if it's avoidable, okay?" He stares at Matt until he makes eye contact, then says, voice barely audible, "You know if you were to go back you probably wouldn't get out alive, right?"
He's right. Matt knows he's right, but he's still not interested in running to anyone or anywhere. He's so close; so close to the eighteen year age mark where he can leave his father and not have to worry about it. "Yeah. I know."
Again, Dallas takes his hand. "Come on. You're going to do this, right? For me?" The emotion in Dallas' eyes is heavy; it's not pity, not fear, just… concern, maybe. Matt nods. "Thank you," Dallas says softly. "Thank you."
"Emily Riley?" an Asian nurse in pink scrubs and long black hair calls, Emily's clipboard in hand. Emily doesn't look up, but Matt does, and he rushes forward past Dallas towards her. "Are you her son?"
"Yes."
"There's a psychologist ready for her. At this time, we aren't allowing family in so you'll have to wait for her back here. We're kind of crowded today."
"She needs someone to guide her back there," he tells her. The nurse nods. "Will someone be available for that?"
"Yes, sir, I'll have another nurse with me and sedative on hand in case she has triggers." She smiles reassuringly. "Please, do not worry. Your mother will be safe."
Matt nods, and she waves another nurse out, a man maybe in his early thirties, to help her. Matt stands next to Dallas' chair while he watches them gather his mother, each holding her by one of her arms.
"God," Dallas says softly as she's guided back through the doors of the emergency room. "She looks terrified."
"I know," Matt says. He feels sick to his stomach as he sits back down.
"All she's been able to say is scripture. Have you noticed that?"
Matt shakes his head; he hadn't been able to make her out once she'd stopped screaming. "I think I remember Jon saying that the only personal item besides clothes that she had with her in that room was her Bible."
"Probably drove herself crazy reading it," Dallas says with a scoff. "I swear, that book is the biggest scam in history."
The old lady across from them 'hmmph!'s and frowns at the two of them. Thankfully, she doesn't say anything, but Matt's wishing he'd had the choice of another hospital. "Sure,"
Dallas doesn't say anything more on the subject, and Matt doesn't offer it. For a long time, they just sit there. Not once does Dallas say a word about the pain of his head or the bullet in his thigh.
Finally, when a nurse calls his name - the old lady across from them had thankfully gone away by now - he wheels himself to her. "Dallas Heath," she says with a smile. "What an honor to meet you. Such a shame that it's at such a bad time."
As she leads them back to a room, Dallas whispers, "Fuck, I forgot about that. News reporters are going to be all over this."
Matt chuckles. "I'm actually really surprised that you haven't had media coverage since you got back."
"They're not allowed to approach me in Shadowbrook unless I'm in the fucking hospital."
"Hey," Matt warns, "Don't get stressed out. Remember what you told me about making things harder for the surgeons?"
Dallas nods. "I know, I know… Just… Be aware that you're going to be in the spotlight if the media gets a hold of this, all right?"
The nurse stops, then, holding open the door to a light blue hospital room. "I'm just going to get your blood pressure and a doctor will be with you as soon as they can be."
Matt wheels him into the room and waits as the nurse - Brenda, she says - takes his blood pressure. "That's a nasty wound you got there," she says in regards to the gunshot in his leg. "Mind if I ask where you got it?"
"I kind of do," Dallas says in a polite yet firm voice. "I'm only going to talk to the police about this. Gotta keep as much as I can away from the media for as long as I can, you know?"
"Absolutely," she says, but sounds a little disappointed.
Once she's taken Dallas' blood pressure, she leaves. Dallas rubs his hands across his face. "I'm going a little crazy," he says. "You have no idea how much this burns."
"No offense," Matt says, taking a seat in one of the chairs, "but I'm kind of glad that I don't."
Dallas laughs a little. "Yeah, me too."
"We're going to have to perform surgery," Doctor Michael Roland says, inspecting Dallas' wound with a small flashlight. "It's very deep in there, you know." He pockets the mini-flashlight and writes something in Dallas' file. "In the meantime, would you be so kind as to tell me who did this to you?"
Dallas hesitates. Matt twists his hands in his lap. "I can't just speak to the police?"
"I'm afraid not. The hospital staff has found themselves in trouble with the Shadowbrook PD before for asking officers to look into possible spousal abuse cases and taking capable policemen off the streets." Doctor Roland clears his throat. "Unfortunately, that means taking my hospital staff away from possibly dying patients. I don't mean to be rude, but…"
"It's kind of a long story," Dallas says, reaching for the ice pack once again. "And you definitely wouldn't be wasting their time for this."
"That's not hospital polic-"
Dallas raises his eyebrows. "Does it really look like I give a fuck about hospital policy? Get me a police officer. I'm not getting the surgery until then."
Doctor Roland purses his lips tightly for a moment, and then nods curtly. "All right. I'll see what I can do. You just stay put and don't walk anywhere on that leg."
"That I can do," Dallas agrees, relaxing back on the bed with a sigh, watching Roland walk out of the room. "Honestly, you'd think doctors would fucking listen to me more often. It's like they don't believe me that I know what I'm talking about. I'm thirty fucking years old, for God's sake, you'd think I'd know a little about myself by now." He turns to Matt. "How you holding up?"
Matt scoffs. "Yes, I'm the one who's life is in danger."
"I didn't mean it that way," Dallas says softly. "This has to be a lot for you to take in. Am I right?"
He nods absently. He's not really sure what he's feeling right now. Everything seems so… out of place, as though he's watching this from someone else's body and not actually seeing it for himself. A playback, perhaps, or a memory; that's what the experience feels like.
"Whatever," Dallas mutters, "I'm just glad you're not the one in the hospital." He pauses. "Hey… They're not going to allow you to be around me once the police find out what's gone on, especially when they find Jon and he tells him that I had been paying. Until they know the truth about what's gone on, you're not going to be able to talk to either me or Josh." He looks at Matt, almost scrutinizing. "Do you have someone you can stay with?"
"Liam," Matt says, not even thinking about it. "I can stay with Liam." Except he'd forgotten about the pseudo-fight they'd had. Still, he doesn't want to stress Dallas out by mentioning the fact that he might end up staying on the street until they clear Dallas' name. In all reality, the police will probably find him a temporary foster home.
He's not going to stay with Liam - this much he already knows - but if it makes Dallas feel better, whatever.
"Good," Dallas says, sounding pleased. "Listen, I'm gonna give you the number of my lawyer. He normally works with celebrity cases, you know, divorces and blah blah blah, but I'm not going with anybody else. Jacob Eagan, he's in LA, been my lawyer since I got in the business. Anyway, I'm gonna give you the number, and as soon as you get settled at Liam's, you give him a call. All right? He's gonna be the one to help you through this mess until I get out of here." He pulls out his cell phone and scrolls through the contact list until he finds what he's looking for. "Hand me that pad right there," he says, and then adds, "and the pencil, too."
Matt does, and watches absently as Dallas writes the number down on the slip of paper. "They're probably going to have to take my phone and shit, so I can't just give that to you. Anyway, when you call, tell his receptionist that Dallas Heath needs his expertise. She'll direct you right to him and then you can explain the situation." Seeing Matt's skeptical expression, he says, "Don't worry, you don't have to explain all of it over the phone. Just tell him I'm in the hospital and he needs to oversee your case while Josh and I are… incapacitated."
"And that'll really work?" Matt asks.
"Absolutely. Like I said, we've known each other since I started acting."
To Matt, it sounds like a long shot. He hopes it works.
A knock sounds at the door. Dallas stops talking and turns his attention to the doctor. "There's a police officer waiting for you," he says, looking between the two of them. "Are you ready for her?"
Dallas turns to Matt for an answer. The moment of truth, he thinks. Nodding, Matt squirms a little in his seat and forces himself to sit still after that.
The police officer is a short, thin woman with blonde hair and wire-rimmed glasses. Matt thinks she looks friendly enough, but he's never exactly had much experience with police, so his opinion could easily be skewed. "Hello, boys," she says; her voice is sweet and sugary. He wonders if he might like her. "Doctor Roland says the two of you needed a police officer to report a crime?"
"Damn," Dallas says with a grin, "That was fast!" When the officer glances at him, he apologizes. "The pain meds must be getting to me." He clasps his hands together in his lap.
"Do you need to see a doctor about that wound, sir?"
Dallas shakes his head. "Nah; this is top priority."
"You know that depending on the position of the bullet, you could lose that leg?"
His face pales a little at the thought, Matt thinks, but he stands his ground. "Yes, I do, Miss..."
"Anna Peterson," she says, pulling out a tape recorder. "I'm going to document what the two of you say, all right? And I'm going to have to interview you separately, in case one of you is influencing the other's answers." She presses record on the player and waits. "So, what can I do for you?"
Later, after Matt's explained to Officer Peterson just exactly what's going on, he sits in Dallas' room, waiting for the surgeon to come in and take Dallas to the pre-op room.
"You all right?"
"Yeah," he lies; he feels like he's going to throw up. "Yeah, I'm all right."
Dallas doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't have the chance to say anything else to him; a knock sounds at the door, and an African-American man with short, dark hair and red scrubs pops his head inside and smiles. "Hello! Dallas Heath?"
"That I am," Dallas says, offering a fake smile. "And you are?"
"Seth Reynolds, I'll be your surgeon." He wanders in and flips through his file. "Looks like a gunshot wound, huh?" He clicks his tongue as he inspects the wound from afar. "Alrighty. Should be an easy surgery, all things considered." He grins. "You got any questions?"
Matt feels like he has a thousand questions, but Dallas shakes his head before he can make his mouth work. "Nope. Not my first surgery."
"Ha, yeah," Seth says, nodding as he flips through the file. "Says you've had a quite a few surgeries in the past, here, including one…" He stops talking, looks up, and seems to notice Matt for the first time. "Ah! You must be Matthew."
"Uh, Matt," he corrects, sticking his hand out to shake.
"Says you're Dallas' domestic partner?" he says, releasing his hold on the clipboard and holding it in front of his body. "You look a little young to be dating a thirty year old."
Matt doesn't know what to say; thankfully, Dallas does. "Well, love comes in many forms," he says softly. "It seems weird, sure, but…"
Seth nods. "Absolutely, I know what you mean. My first girlfriend was ten years younger than me." He chuckles, embarrassed. "My first girlfriend wasn't until I was thirty, mind you." He sighs. "…Anyway, I don't think that's what we're focusing on." He clears his throat and goes back to Dallas' file. "Well, in a few minutes, we're going to take you down to pre-op. Matt, you'll have to settle in the waiting room while we get him checked in, make sure he's healthy enough for surgery… That sort of thing, you know, and then I'll make sure that you get to see him before he goes into surgery." He smiles. "Sound good?"
"Sounds great," Dallas says, mirroring his smile. Matt nods, not sure he could offer a smile back. "Uh, could you maybe give us a few minutes alone?"
Nodding, Seth edges out and opens the door. "Absolutely. Five minutes, let's say?" He leaves. Matt sighs heavily, rubbing his hands into his eyes.
"Hey, listen," Dallas says softly, soothingly. "Everything's gonna be all right."
"Yeah, I know, it's just… This is not how I expected things to work out."
"How did you expect things to work out?"
"I don't know! A little better than this!" He sighs. "God, this is… This is without a doubt the worst situation I've ever been in electively."
"I think you're being a little melodramatic."
"I'm not being melodramatic, I'm serious. Right now, I'm basically running from Jon, which is exactly what I didn't want to do. I wanted to get away, sure, but I wanted to be eighteen, when I could legally get away from him, and he wouldn't have any legal right to force me back." He runs his hands over his hair. "This is really… Really bad."
Dallas takes his hand in both of his and stares right into Matt's eyes as he says, "Hey. Everything will be fine. You call Jacob; he's going to help you through this. All right?"
Matt nods; he knows Dallas can tell that he doesn't really believe him, but he lets it go, along with Matt's hand. Someone knocks at the door, and at Dallas' okay, opens the door. "They're ready for you," the nurse says with a smile, poking her head into the room. "Matt, could you wait outside? We'll have someone escort you down to the surgery wing of the hospital."
Without another look at Dallas, Matt lets her direct him to the nurse's station, where he waits until a student nurse finds him and asks him to follow. He feels like he sees Jon everywhere he turns - paranoia creeping up on him - but every time it just turns out to be someone who looks like him, the same hair, the same shirt, the same injury.
It's annoying.
Status: completed
Warnings: LOTS of them; see tags
Rating: R
Word Count: 102k
Matt can't stop reading Josh's copy of Memento Vivere. It's not even like he identifies with any of the characters, or appreciates any of them all that much. It's just that there's something about the writing - the way Smith writes that draws Matt in again and again and again.
He's read it six times in the last week. With everyone out and Rick working on accounts hard, he has a lot of time to kill, and Josh sure isn't helping him with doing anything.
"I'm not going to tell you what our plan is," he says one night when he returns from work and starts right back into it when he gets in their room. "It'll only work if you don't know. All right?"
Matt sighs. He's getting a little sick of this whole thing. Josh won't tell him and Dallas hasn't even called or anything since last time. It's annoying. He wants to know. He feels like he needs to know, but nobody wants to tell him anything about the plan. He's frustrated and bored and for the first time in his life, he's almost wishing that one of the clients were coming to pick him up.
Still, the end of the week comes and goes, and Bill returns from vacation in the same form as how he'd left, and offers nothing to quell Matt's anticipation of the upcoming week. Still, he only gets him on weekends, and late one night, Matt realizes with a start that he's already gone through what he hopes to be his last appointment with Bill.
Josh wakes him up one morning and the only thing he says is, "Today," and then he leaves. Matt spends hours trying to figure out that today is the day he gets out, but at ten thirty, Jon shows up from work. Early.
He never comes home early.
"Rick's got the money," he tells Matt. "So get your shit and get in my car, you're going today."
Matt gathers his things, trying to remember when Dallas said he'd be out. Before the end of last week? Before the end of this week? Did he even give a time? Jon tells him to hurry up and leaves Matt throwing clothes into a large denim bag Jon had given to him.
Come on, Dallas, he thinks desperately, get me out of here.
Jon brings him to an abandoned gas station on the closer edge of town, about ten minutes away, where a car is waiting and two people are standing next to each other in front of it. Matt knows that one of them is Rick, but not until Jon parks his own car does Matt realize that the other one is Josh.
Oh, thank Christ, he thinks. He slumps back in his chair. "Don't get an attitude, I'm still your father, and I can still whup your ass." He instructs Matt to get out of the car and stand next to Jon until he gives the go ahead. "I don't want that bastard playing any games. I don't trust him." Matt doesn't blame him.
Josh plays the part of creepy rapist well, and for a while, Matt wonders if that was the plan all along - to get somebody for Josh.
Finally, Jon laughs a final laugh and says, "All right, well, I suppose you guys can head on home, then; Matt's got a bag in the car, not that he'll be keeping it for long, I imagine."
"Oh, sorry, I still haven't gotten fully moved into Rick's yet, so my car's still full," Josh says, not even glancing at Matt as he says it. He's moving in with Rick? Matt hopes this is part of his plan. "And his car's got something wrong with the belt, so we only have mine."
"Why the fuck you only telling me this now?"
Josh kind of shrugs. "Sorry, man. Guess I kinda forgot."
"All right, well. We'll drive out to your place. Rick, you lead. I'll follow you out in a minute."
Rick nudges Josh in the side. "Shame, huh? And I'd really been looking forward to the little pup ridin' with us, but I suppose my car's kinda got a history of breakin' down at the most inopportune times."
"Get going! I gotta get back home soon." Matt watches as Rick and Josh head back to their car, and Jon grabs him by the upper arm back and brings him back to his Pontiac, holding on to him with one hand while he tries to find his key.. "Damn it. If I didn't know about Rick's car trouble, I'd definitely think that there was somethin' fishy goin' on here."
Matt nods. "Um… If it's okay for me to ask, since when is Josh moving in with Rick?"
"Shit!" Jon curses as he drops his keys. They clink to the ground. "A few days? He only got his stuff out this morning. Rick's been lookin' for somebody to live with for a while, somebody who approves of his… lifestyle choices, let's say." Jon laughs a little. "Yeah. Anyway, you'll be livin' with the both of 'em. Damn, these keys are slippery. Like they're covered in butter or something, I swear to God."
Matt sees movement out of the corner of his eye, but doesn't move to look at it. Jon keeps talking about how much more freedom he's gonna have once Matt's gone, and during, he must drop his keys six more times. "Fuckin' keys! I'm gonna kill the fucker who made these so slippery!"
A heavy clunk meets Matt's ears, and his father slams forward to hit the car. His hand drops his keys again and he turns back around to face his attacker.
"You fuckin' bastard," he mutters; Matt turns around, too, not sure if he should be afraid or not. "Knew you were cookin' something up."
Dallas. Matt's heart thumps erratically through a split second of adrenaline and he almost smiles. "Right," he says. His fists are in the air, like he's expecting Jon to retaliate. In truth, Matt hopes he does. Jon definitely deserves to lose a fight. "Get on your feet, asswipe. Let's see what you can do."
Matt doesn't move as Jon stands up and chuckles. "Come on, boy. I got years on your ass, you really think that you're gonna beat me?"
"Hey, it's worth a shot, right?" It all happens so suddenly. Dallas goes down in a matter of seconds when Jon starts in, and when he hits the pavement, he yells at Matt to get in Dallas' car and find Josh.
"No!" Matt calls back, suddenly surprised by his courage. Dallas is getting his head pummeled into the street and he's saying no. "I can't-my mother, I can't just leave her there!"
Dallas manages to get one heavy hit, right to Jon's skull, in before he swears and says, "Then grab the keys and go get her!"
So he does. He leans down and picks them up, grateful that Dallas seems to be ahead in the fight for a moment. He leaves Dallas' car, instead opting to just run, go, go, go, as Jon calls back at him.
"You son of a bitch! I'm gonna get you!"
He keeps going. He trips a few times, losing the keys underneath a parallel-parked car on the side of the road, and the kids playing outside give him strange looks as he pounds his feet against the tar, cars honking at him as he blatantly skips past the intersections and do not cross warnings, but he's not focused on his surroundings. He's focused on finding the small grocery store so he can find his way to Jon's house.
He swears he sees Liam and his sister, Laura, driving in his car - they even go so far as to honk the horn at him - but Matt keeps going, going; Jon's house is in sight now, and Matt slows down before he gets there so he won't trip over his feet trying to stop.
"Matt!" someone calls; Matt spins to see Dallas jumping out from his car on the other side of the road, and Matt has just a split second to wonder how he'd gotten here quicker than Matt before he says "Matt, open the doo-!" just in time for Matt's father to tackle Dallas to the ground. The sick sound of fists and feet on skin reach his ears and Matt has to turn around when he sees Dallas' blood spray down on the pavement.
The key. Get the key! He reaches above the door, struggling to get the key from its spot.
"Never touch this, all right? If the door's locked when you come home, you wait, right fucking here on the porch, for me or Rick or Harlan or somebody else to get you. Don't ever let me catch you fuckin' around with this key and this lock, or I'm going to have your ass for breakfast."
"Open the fucking door!"
Moving from his spot next to the key's hiding place, Matt rushes to unlock the doorknob and the deadbolt. His heart thumping wildly in his chest, he has to slam his body weight into the door to make it open. His mother screams violently from her bedroom, muffled by the walls around her. Daemon rushes up to him, but doesn't bark - just whines. Luckily for Matt, he stays out of his way.
He rushes to the bedroom where he knows his father keeps his mother and struggles with the doorknob: locked. How's he supposed to get her out without a key?
"Here, found these in his jeans," Dallas wheezes from behind him, jangling the keys Matt had dropped at him. "Jon's unconscious. I don't know for how long, though, so hurry up."
"Where's Josh?" Matt asks, his hands shaking as he tries each key to open the door. His mother still screams loudly from the inside.
"He's taking care of Rick," Dallas says, gently shooing Matt to the side after he drops the keys to the floor. "I think he's making sure that the police get a hold of him before he runs the country. There!" he slams open the door and Emily's screaming stops, but only long enough for her to gather scripture together before she starts muttering that under her breath.
"Hey, hey, hey, hey! It's okay! It's okay, don't worry, you're safe. We're gonna get you out of here, we're gonna keep you safe," Dallas says, moving into play much quicker than Matt, who finds himself shell-shocked by everything.
His mother sits in her bed, staring up at the ceiling and speaking loudly, in phrases Matt can't quite comprehend. Dallas easily picks her out of the bed and pushes her through the door, instructing Matt to take his keys and get the car.
"But what about-"
"Go, Matt, please!"
So he does - rushes outside and his hand shakes as he presses the unlock button on Dallas' key chain, running towards it to open the back door and his feet trip over what feels like nothing and before he knows it he's eating pavement.
"You no good son of a bitch! You know what I'm gonna do with you when I get rid of that bastard in my house?" Jon tripped him. Matt flips over in the street only to have Jon's feet kick at his ribs. His left hand is dripping blood onto the pavement and Matt's shirt. "I'm gonna lock you up in a room, and just like your mother I'm going to start selling you out from your fucking bedroom.
"And that Josh kid, that new one, I know he's in on this. I still haven't seen either him or Rick, and you know what? I'm pretty sure that he's fuckin' Rick over out of this deal, too."
A gun. Jon has a fucking gun and how is he going to-how has he even made it this long without-when Jon's always had great shot. "So, this is what we're going to do." His voice is much more confident now that he has a gun in his hand. "We're going to bring you back into the house… And we're going to pack up our shit… and we're going to leave. Mexico, maybe, for now. There we can start anew. And maybe," he laughs, looking up towards the sky. "Maybe I could talk Bill into coming with us. Give you a little bit of… familiar scenery. Make the change a little better, easier."
Jon cocks the gun. "So get back inside, right now. Or there won't be time left to do it."
Matt tries to get to his knees, but Jon kicks him in the ribs. "Did I say you could stand up?"
"Jon, get away from him." Oh, thank God, Matt thinks, almost daring to breathe, still staring down into the pavement under his hands and knees.
"Who the hell do you think you are, you fairy?" Jon says, staggering backwards and pointing the gun towards where Matt imagines Dallas must be. "You come into my home and fuck up my life and think that I'm just gonna let you take my only son away from me just because you don't think that's okay."
Matt looks up to see Dallas pointing a gun at his father as well. He almost has half the mind to blurt out, "Where the hell did you get that?" Common sense tells him not to.
"I didn't fuck up your life, asshole; I'm trying to save Matt's."
"That's not your right."
Dallas laughs and sort of shakes his head. "That's anyone's right when the kid's parents can't do it for them. And since you royally fucked over his mother and you're trying to do the same to him, I suggest you shut the hell up about who's right and who's wrong in this situation."
Jon doesn't say anything, so Dallas continues. "Put the gun down, or I shoot."
Now it's Jon's turn to laugh. "You put the gun down, or I'll shoot."
Dallas cocks the gun and points it at Jon's chest. "I'm serious." And before Matt can fully gather what's going on, he hears the crack of a bullet shooting out and Dallas crouching in pain.
"So am I."
Matt watches as Dallas goes for Jon's his left knee. He swears he can hear the bullet shatter the bone, but Jon starts screaming too quickly to actually hear it.
"You son of a bitch!"
He knows he needs to step in, so he tackles Jon and sends the gun spiraling and sliding down the street. Unfortunately, Jon is quicker and has him in a grip at the hair as soon as he does it. "You're mine," he hisses into Matt's ear as Dallas tries to pick him up off of Matt. "And don't you ever fucking forget it." There's a dark, crazy look in Jon's eyes that sends a wave of ice through his veins. Dallas struggles with Jon for a few moments, finally managing to make him pass out while Matt watches without focusing his eyes.
"Get in the car," Dallas instructs, limping back towards the house.
"Dallas, I-"
"Get in the car!"
He rushes back towards the house and Matt leaves the backseat door open for Dallas to strap Emily into, but, contrary to what Matt expected, after securing her seat belt, Dallas walks around the other side of the car. "Driver's seat."
"I can't drive! I don't know how!"
"It's not that hard; brake on the right, gas on the left, gear shift in the middle." Dallas drops into the passenger seat and pulls out a first aid kid from under the seat, looking through it. After a moment, he throws it to the floor, cursing. Matt's not sure what he was looking for, but it evidently wasn't there. "We have to get to a hospital," he says, "and I can't drive with this leg."
"Sure you-"
"Okay, I could, but I'm sure that the surgeon that's going to have to get this out of my leg isn't going to particularly appreciate me spending twenty minutes in traffic getting to the hospital. That's only going to give me a lot more pain and fuck things over for the surgeon. I'm not going to be that guy unless I have to, and I don't have to.
"Besides, we have to get me and your mother to the hospital, so you're being a hero to two people today, all right?" Dallas grips at his leg. "Christ, this hurts."
Starting the car per Dallas' instruction, Matt says, "Since when have you had a gun?"
"Got it a little bit after I first met Jon," Dallas says with a groan, pressing down on his leg above the gunshot wound. "I just figured it would help me a little, if something ever happened to you or me or something. Just a… precautionary measure, you know?"
Dallas keeps talking on the way to the hospital, though for who's sake, Matt's not sure. He's very careful as he maneuvers his way through the city, following the blue H signs placed about the streets.
Matt pulls into the emergency parking lot of St. Augustus Hospital, carefully avoiding any place that says Ambulance - DO NOT PARK and parks. "All right," Dallas says, opening his door. "You gotta get your Mom out of the back, I'm not sure that I can."
"Okay," Matt says, mind on autopilot. This is so strange. So strange; his mother's still muttering in the backseat, having yet to say a word that sounds anything remotely sane, and Matt really has no idea what to say to her to make things better for her, to make her stop muttering. Still, he grabs her from the backseat and lets Dallas drape an arm across his shoulders as he brings the two of them into the emergency room.
Once the automatic doors open, hospital staff all jump together in a joined effort to make the three of them as comfortable as possible. "Oh, dear! What happened?" an African-American nurse asks, immediately bringing up a wheelchair for Dallas.
"It's a long, long story," he says, sighing as he sits in the wheelchair. "But before you get me in, could you maybe check out this lady?" He gestures to Emily, who's holding onto Matt for dear life. Matt swallows out of reflex of the anticipation coursing through him.
"Well, sir, I'm not sure when we'll get either of you in. There was a seven-car pileup on Highway Ten through Staples, very bad day, and we're getting all of the injured." She looks very apologetic, especially when she notices the wound in Dallas' thigh. "I'll see what I can do for you in the meantime, though. I have a few forms for the two of you to fill out…" She eyes Emily, then asks, "And just fill out what you can for this lady, here.
"I think we have a psychologist on hand that may be able to help her that's available today." She smiles as best she can. "I'm Sherry. Please, if anything more comes up while you're waiting, let me know."
She leaves for a moment, just long enough for Matt to find the three of them a spot in the waiting room, and returns with three clipboards for them. "Here. I wasn't sure if something had happened to you, too, young man, or…" She hands three of them to Matt, who shakes his head.
"Oh, uh, just my mother and Dallas."
Sherry nods and takes it back. "Alrighty." She sits down to his level and says, "If you'd like to see these two once they get in a room, you may want to make sure you put yourself down as family for each of them, regardless of your real status." She frowns. "Now, I'm not supposed to be telling you that, so don't say I did, but…" She looks at him with a pitiful expression in her eyes, and stands back up. Matt just watches. "You look a little lost."
He chuckles humorlessly. "I am a little lost."
With that, she returns to her post. Matt quickly fills out as much of the form for his mother as he can - leaving social security number, phone, and address spots blank - while Dallas fills out his own. "Matthew Riley," Dallas mutters when Matt's writing his own name under emergency contact for his mother. Again, he pauses at address. "Domestic partner…" He ignores the glare that the senior couple sitting across from them sends him.
Matt groans softly. "Really? We're doing that again?"
"I'd like to make sure that you get into my room for safety reasons, you know. In case Jon gets here before we can get the police involved and he tries to take you home when I'm… otherwise incapacitated. Besides, you saw that nasty hand of his, and shit, even with his knee alone, he'll probably be here eventually." He clears his throat when he notices the older couple seated across from them and rests his elbow on the arm of the wheelchair. "Anyway, don't try to say you're not, not now. You heard what the lady said. I'd like to know that you're still with the living while I'm going through surgery." Seemingly to piss off the couple in front of them, Dallas grabs his hand and squeezes. Matt immediately takes his away.
Matt stares at address, thinking. "Shit. I can't put down Jon's address, they'll send all the medical bills there, and if he just goes back-"
"Put down mine," Dallas says, and hands his clipboard to Matt for reference. Finally, when Matt's finished filling in both his and Emily's address and phone number areas, he stands up. Dallas grabs his fingers before he passes. "Could you maybe ask for an ice pack? My head's really starting to kill me."
Wandering up to the nurses desk, Matt hands in the two forms and points back towards Dallas. "Would I be able to get an ice pack for him?" He smiles, hoping it doesn't look too flimsy or overexcited. "He's got a nasty head wound and anything that can help would be very much appreciated."
The girl behind the desk peeks over the counter at Dallas, who looks quite pale from this distance, and nods. "Just a moment, sir." After a moment, she returns with an ice pack. "I'm sorry, I don't have a towel for you," she says apologetically. Matt thanks her anyway.
When he returns to Dallas, he takes the pack gratefully, but when he touches it to his head, he hisses in pain. "Damn, I was really hoping that would work." He sets the pack on his lap and starts ripping at his t-shirt with his teeth and fingers. Matt catches sight of the bruises on his stomach - angry purples and blacks - and has to turn away. The sound of fabric ripping breaks the murmur of voices in the waiting room, and Matt watches, along with the rest of the room, as Dallas rips his shirt around his torso for a line of fabric to put between the ice pack and his head.
Dallas sighs in relief as he presses the t-shirt ice pack to the crack in his skull and grimaces at the immediate change in temperature. "Matt… you gotta tell the police what's been going on and report all of those asshole clients. Okay? You can't keep living like this."
Matt turns away, hearing what Dallas isn't saying in the back of his mind: I can't keep living like this. "I know." But he doesn't want to. Dallas sighs again. Emily continues muttering on the other side of Matt.
"I love you like-" Dallas pauses, eyes flickering to the couple. "I love you. I really do. But, Matt, the thing is… b-lovers do stuff for each other that they don't think twice about. It's the nature of a family; a normal family just does it, no questions ask. They trust one another and they know that their family wouldn't want them to do it if they knew something was going to go wrong."
There's that word again: normal. Dallas says it like he's trying to get a reaction, like he knows how hard the punch is to Matt's stomach and wants him to give into the pain. "I know."
Dallas groans as he stretches his sore leg out. "Okay, let's try a different tactic… As much as I loved getting to punch the shit out of your father, I'd really prefer it if I didn't have to endure another ass kicking on your behalf if it's avoidable, okay?" He stares at Matt until he makes eye contact, then says, voice barely audible, "You know if you were to go back you probably wouldn't get out alive, right?"
He's right. Matt knows he's right, but he's still not interested in running to anyone or anywhere. He's so close; so close to the eighteen year age mark where he can leave his father and not have to worry about it. "Yeah. I know."
Again, Dallas takes his hand. "Come on. You're going to do this, right? For me?" The emotion in Dallas' eyes is heavy; it's not pity, not fear, just… concern, maybe. Matt nods. "Thank you," Dallas says softly. "Thank you."
"Emily Riley?" an Asian nurse in pink scrubs and long black hair calls, Emily's clipboard in hand. Emily doesn't look up, but Matt does, and he rushes forward past Dallas towards her. "Are you her son?"
"Yes."
"There's a psychologist ready for her. At this time, we aren't allowing family in so you'll have to wait for her back here. We're kind of crowded today."
"She needs someone to guide her back there," he tells her. The nurse nods. "Will someone be available for that?"
"Yes, sir, I'll have another nurse with me and sedative on hand in case she has triggers." She smiles reassuringly. "Please, do not worry. Your mother will be safe."
Matt nods, and she waves another nurse out, a man maybe in his early thirties, to help her. Matt stands next to Dallas' chair while he watches them gather his mother, each holding her by one of her arms.
"God," Dallas says softly as she's guided back through the doors of the emergency room. "She looks terrified."
"I know," Matt says. He feels sick to his stomach as he sits back down.
"All she's been able to say is scripture. Have you noticed that?"
Matt shakes his head; he hadn't been able to make her out once she'd stopped screaming. "I think I remember Jon saying that the only personal item besides clothes that she had with her in that room was her Bible."
"Probably drove herself crazy reading it," Dallas says with a scoff. "I swear, that book is the biggest scam in history."
The old lady across from them 'hmmph!'s and frowns at the two of them. Thankfully, she doesn't say anything, but Matt's wishing he'd had the choice of another hospital. "Sure,"
Dallas doesn't say anything more on the subject, and Matt doesn't offer it. For a long time, they just sit there. Not once does Dallas say a word about the pain of his head or the bullet in his thigh.
Finally, when a nurse calls his name - the old lady across from them had thankfully gone away by now - he wheels himself to her. "Dallas Heath," she says with a smile. "What an honor to meet you. Such a shame that it's at such a bad time."
As she leads them back to a room, Dallas whispers, "Fuck, I forgot about that. News reporters are going to be all over this."
Matt chuckles. "I'm actually really surprised that you haven't had media coverage since you got back."
"They're not allowed to approach me in Shadowbrook unless I'm in the fucking hospital."
"Hey," Matt warns, "Don't get stressed out. Remember what you told me about making things harder for the surgeons?"
Dallas nods. "I know, I know… Just… Be aware that you're going to be in the spotlight if the media gets a hold of this, all right?"
The nurse stops, then, holding open the door to a light blue hospital room. "I'm just going to get your blood pressure and a doctor will be with you as soon as they can be."
Matt wheels him into the room and waits as the nurse - Brenda, she says - takes his blood pressure. "That's a nasty wound you got there," she says in regards to the gunshot in his leg. "Mind if I ask where you got it?"
"I kind of do," Dallas says in a polite yet firm voice. "I'm only going to talk to the police about this. Gotta keep as much as I can away from the media for as long as I can, you know?"
"Absolutely," she says, but sounds a little disappointed.
Once she's taken Dallas' blood pressure, she leaves. Dallas rubs his hands across his face. "I'm going a little crazy," he says. "You have no idea how much this burns."
"No offense," Matt says, taking a seat in one of the chairs, "but I'm kind of glad that I don't."
Dallas laughs a little. "Yeah, me too."
"We're going to have to perform surgery," Doctor Michael Roland says, inspecting Dallas' wound with a small flashlight. "It's very deep in there, you know." He pockets the mini-flashlight and writes something in Dallas' file. "In the meantime, would you be so kind as to tell me who did this to you?"
Dallas hesitates. Matt twists his hands in his lap. "I can't just speak to the police?"
"I'm afraid not. The hospital staff has found themselves in trouble with the Shadowbrook PD before for asking officers to look into possible spousal abuse cases and taking capable policemen off the streets." Doctor Roland clears his throat. "Unfortunately, that means taking my hospital staff away from possibly dying patients. I don't mean to be rude, but…"
"It's kind of a long story," Dallas says, reaching for the ice pack once again. "And you definitely wouldn't be wasting their time for this."
"That's not hospital polic-"
Dallas raises his eyebrows. "Does it really look like I give a fuck about hospital policy? Get me a police officer. I'm not getting the surgery until then."
Doctor Roland purses his lips tightly for a moment, and then nods curtly. "All right. I'll see what I can do. You just stay put and don't walk anywhere on that leg."
"That I can do," Dallas agrees, relaxing back on the bed with a sigh, watching Roland walk out of the room. "Honestly, you'd think doctors would fucking listen to me more often. It's like they don't believe me that I know what I'm talking about. I'm thirty fucking years old, for God's sake, you'd think I'd know a little about myself by now." He turns to Matt. "How you holding up?"
Matt scoffs. "Yes, I'm the one who's life is in danger."
"I didn't mean it that way," Dallas says softly. "This has to be a lot for you to take in. Am I right?"
He nods absently. He's not really sure what he's feeling right now. Everything seems so… out of place, as though he's watching this from someone else's body and not actually seeing it for himself. A playback, perhaps, or a memory; that's what the experience feels like.
"Whatever," Dallas mutters, "I'm just glad you're not the one in the hospital." He pauses. "Hey… They're not going to allow you to be around me once the police find out what's gone on, especially when they find Jon and he tells him that I had been paying. Until they know the truth about what's gone on, you're not going to be able to talk to either me or Josh." He looks at Matt, almost scrutinizing. "Do you have someone you can stay with?"
"Liam," Matt says, not even thinking about it. "I can stay with Liam." Except he'd forgotten about the pseudo-fight they'd had. Still, he doesn't want to stress Dallas out by mentioning the fact that he might end up staying on the street until they clear Dallas' name. In all reality, the police will probably find him a temporary foster home.
He's not going to stay with Liam - this much he already knows - but if it makes Dallas feel better, whatever.
"Good," Dallas says, sounding pleased. "Listen, I'm gonna give you the number of my lawyer. He normally works with celebrity cases, you know, divorces and blah blah blah, but I'm not going with anybody else. Jacob Eagan, he's in LA, been my lawyer since I got in the business. Anyway, I'm gonna give you the number, and as soon as you get settled at Liam's, you give him a call. All right? He's gonna be the one to help you through this mess until I get out of here." He pulls out his cell phone and scrolls through the contact list until he finds what he's looking for. "Hand me that pad right there," he says, and then adds, "and the pencil, too."
Matt does, and watches absently as Dallas writes the number down on the slip of paper. "They're probably going to have to take my phone and shit, so I can't just give that to you. Anyway, when you call, tell his receptionist that Dallas Heath needs his expertise. She'll direct you right to him and then you can explain the situation." Seeing Matt's skeptical expression, he says, "Don't worry, you don't have to explain all of it over the phone. Just tell him I'm in the hospital and he needs to oversee your case while Josh and I are… incapacitated."
"And that'll really work?" Matt asks.
"Absolutely. Like I said, we've known each other since I started acting."
To Matt, it sounds like a long shot. He hopes it works.
A knock sounds at the door. Dallas stops talking and turns his attention to the doctor. "There's a police officer waiting for you," he says, looking between the two of them. "Are you ready for her?"
Dallas turns to Matt for an answer. The moment of truth, he thinks. Nodding, Matt squirms a little in his seat and forces himself to sit still after that.
The police officer is a short, thin woman with blonde hair and wire-rimmed glasses. Matt thinks she looks friendly enough, but he's never exactly had much experience with police, so his opinion could easily be skewed. "Hello, boys," she says; her voice is sweet and sugary. He wonders if he might like her. "Doctor Roland says the two of you needed a police officer to report a crime?"
"Damn," Dallas says with a grin, "That was fast!" When the officer glances at him, he apologizes. "The pain meds must be getting to me." He clasps his hands together in his lap.
"Do you need to see a doctor about that wound, sir?"
Dallas shakes his head. "Nah; this is top priority."
"You know that depending on the position of the bullet, you could lose that leg?"
His face pales a little at the thought, Matt thinks, but he stands his ground. "Yes, I do, Miss..."
"Anna Peterson," she says, pulling out a tape recorder. "I'm going to document what the two of you say, all right? And I'm going to have to interview you separately, in case one of you is influencing the other's answers." She presses record on the player and waits. "So, what can I do for you?"
Later, after Matt's explained to Officer Peterson just exactly what's going on, he sits in Dallas' room, waiting for the surgeon to come in and take Dallas to the pre-op room.
"You all right?"
"Yeah," he lies; he feels like he's going to throw up. "Yeah, I'm all right."
Dallas doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't have the chance to say anything else to him; a knock sounds at the door, and an African-American man with short, dark hair and red scrubs pops his head inside and smiles. "Hello! Dallas Heath?"
"That I am," Dallas says, offering a fake smile. "And you are?"
"Seth Reynolds, I'll be your surgeon." He wanders in and flips through his file. "Looks like a gunshot wound, huh?" He clicks his tongue as he inspects the wound from afar. "Alrighty. Should be an easy surgery, all things considered." He grins. "You got any questions?"
Matt feels like he has a thousand questions, but Dallas shakes his head before he can make his mouth work. "Nope. Not my first surgery."
"Ha, yeah," Seth says, nodding as he flips through the file. "Says you've had a quite a few surgeries in the past, here, including one…" He stops talking, looks up, and seems to notice Matt for the first time. "Ah! You must be Matthew."
"Uh, Matt," he corrects, sticking his hand out to shake.
"Says you're Dallas' domestic partner?" he says, releasing his hold on the clipboard and holding it in front of his body. "You look a little young to be dating a thirty year old."
Matt doesn't know what to say; thankfully, Dallas does. "Well, love comes in many forms," he says softly. "It seems weird, sure, but…"
Seth nods. "Absolutely, I know what you mean. My first girlfriend was ten years younger than me." He chuckles, embarrassed. "My first girlfriend wasn't until I was thirty, mind you." He sighs. "…Anyway, I don't think that's what we're focusing on." He clears his throat and goes back to Dallas' file. "Well, in a few minutes, we're going to take you down to pre-op. Matt, you'll have to settle in the waiting room while we get him checked in, make sure he's healthy enough for surgery… That sort of thing, you know, and then I'll make sure that you get to see him before he goes into surgery." He smiles. "Sound good?"
"Sounds great," Dallas says, mirroring his smile. Matt nods, not sure he could offer a smile back. "Uh, could you maybe give us a few minutes alone?"
Nodding, Seth edges out and opens the door. "Absolutely. Five minutes, let's say?" He leaves. Matt sighs heavily, rubbing his hands into his eyes.
"Hey, listen," Dallas says softly, soothingly. "Everything's gonna be all right."
"Yeah, I know, it's just… This is not how I expected things to work out."
"How did you expect things to work out?"
"I don't know! A little better than this!" He sighs. "God, this is… This is without a doubt the worst situation I've ever been in electively."
"I think you're being a little melodramatic."
"I'm not being melodramatic, I'm serious. Right now, I'm basically running from Jon, which is exactly what I didn't want to do. I wanted to get away, sure, but I wanted to be eighteen, when I could legally get away from him, and he wouldn't have any legal right to force me back." He runs his hands over his hair. "This is really… Really bad."
Dallas takes his hand in both of his and stares right into Matt's eyes as he says, "Hey. Everything will be fine. You call Jacob; he's going to help you through this. All right?"
Matt nods; he knows Dallas can tell that he doesn't really believe him, but he lets it go, along with Matt's hand. Someone knocks at the door, and at Dallas' okay, opens the door. "They're ready for you," the nurse says with a smile, poking her head into the room. "Matt, could you wait outside? We'll have someone escort you down to the surgery wing of the hospital."
Without another look at Dallas, Matt lets her direct him to the nurse's station, where he waits until a student nurse finds him and asks him to follow. He feels like he sees Jon everywhere he turns - paranoia creeping up on him - but every time it just turns out to be someone who looks like him, the same hair, the same shirt, the same injury.
It's annoying.