Raleigh Harper / Emily Watkins (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
callmeemily) wrote2014-06-23 07:37 pm
callmeemily) wrote2014-06-23 07:37 pm
And in the end... (Levi) TW: Mentions of Violence/Torture - Dated to Monday Morning
Trigger Warning:This thread contains mentions and descriptions of violence and torture. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to tweet @thestarsplay for clarification. Thanks!
It'd been a world's trial, getting herself out of the hospital. She's had to tell the story to cops, to doctors, nurses, and psych consults. She's gotten stitches, she's gotten IV fluids, she's gotten pain meds and her wrists cleaned out and bandaged, and she's gotten the world's cheapest pair of flipflops, a set of crutches, and a pair of scrub pants that are almost too big for her.
She's got blood drying on her hoodie, and some pill bottles that she's got rattling around in there, but she goes from discharge to the hospital room of, she tells the very kind nurses, the policeman who saved her life.
Not mentioning that he was also her friend. She slips into the room with a sort of jiggling-hop that eight months on crutches will teach you. She leans them against the bed when she sees he's sleeping, and she lowers herself into the chair, because she just.... looks at him. She just sits and watches him and she wipes at her cheek with a hand as she takes a deep breath.
He said he missed her. It was like he knew - she remembers now when he said he could read minds about shoes, and then made it into a joke - and she wonders if he really could read minds. If that's why he said what he had.
Either way, though, it'd mattered. She's so tired that any thoughts she was having - they didn't have the sharp spikes of fear and pain. She was resigned; she was exhausted, and everything hurt, but that, too, dulled out after time even though distantly you were aware of how bad it was.
She'd stay another few minutes before she left, she decided - and it was only then that she realised that her crutches were sliding away from her, and even though she moved to grab them.... they fell with a loud clatter, and Raleigh sucked in a breath, looking back at the bed.
It'd been a world's trial, getting herself out of the hospital. She's had to tell the story to cops, to doctors, nurses, and psych consults. She's gotten stitches, she's gotten IV fluids, she's gotten pain meds and her wrists cleaned out and bandaged, and she's gotten the world's cheapest pair of flipflops, a set of crutches, and a pair of scrub pants that are almost too big for her.
She's got blood drying on her hoodie, and some pill bottles that she's got rattling around in there, but she goes from discharge to the hospital room of, she tells the very kind nurses, the policeman who saved her life.
Not mentioning that he was also her friend. She slips into the room with a sort of jiggling-hop that eight months on crutches will teach you. She leans them against the bed when she sees he's sleeping, and she lowers herself into the chair, because she just.... looks at him. She just sits and watches him and she wipes at her cheek with a hand as she takes a deep breath.
He said he missed her. It was like he knew - she remembers now when he said he could read minds about shoes, and then made it into a joke - and she wonders if he really could read minds. If that's why he said what he had.
Either way, though, it'd mattered. She's so tired that any thoughts she was having - they didn't have the sharp spikes of fear and pain. She was resigned; she was exhausted, and everything hurt, but that, too, dulled out after time even though distantly you were aware of how bad it was.
She'd stay another few minutes before she left, she decided - and it was only then that she realised that her crutches were sliding away from her, and even though she moved to grab them.... they fell with a loud clatter, and Raleigh sucked in a breath, looking back at the bed.
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"Other than that, pretty good. I mostly passed out from the concussion and some blood loss. Nothing too serious. You get the joy of crutches though?"
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Her mouth quirked up at the corner. "I'm used to them - gimp leg and all. But yeah. He- uh. Pretty much cut the whole length of my foot so I couldn't run away, so crutches it is." She just says it, because she's said it so many times and relived it again and again that right this second she's sort of numb to it.
"Thank you, by the way - for wondering where I was." She has to say it, and her voice is small, because she's absurdly scared about it.
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"It was pretty good that I passed out from the concussion and blood loss on account of all the pain I was in. Also, I didn't have to answer any questions last night because I was unconscious and then in surgery."
All in all, it hadn't been a horrible way to end a case. Yes, it was pretty traumatic for everyone but they had saved everyone they could have and he avoided the mess afterward. Looking at Emily though, he just wished that he had gotten there sooner.
"And you're welcome. I know I tease you about being the pastry angel and all that but... I like having you around. You may not see it, but you make people happier with your presence, and not just because of the baked goods either."
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Her eyes find his, and she looks... different. Of course she's different than before - there's all the external changes, but she looks different inside, too. Broken, maybe.
"You can really read minds, can't you." It's not even a question, and she's not answering what he said, because she knows from the police that there wasn't a missing person's report - and from Les, too, there was the surprise when he'd seen her - but she's not up to arguing. She's not up for much, honestly.
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Levi can't imagine why someone who wasn't a cop would have to go through that whole process a lot. Even as a cop he didn't like it, as a civilian it must have been miserable. It was something to think about for later.
When she accused him of actually being able to read minds he gave a bit of a chuckle and shook his head. It wasn't the first time someone had accused him of that, the first time he had freaked out, but then he realized that just about everyone was accused of that once or twice in their life.
"I just read people," he told her. "I read them very well. Which means I tend to know which ones are worth having around and which aren't."
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She's mostly found out that magic exists, that people who do magic exist - and that's why she says it, but when he says no, she actually relaxes a little, and she reaches for his hand, squeezing it. "You saved my life," she said it quietly, her brows furrowing together, because she's trying not to think about being trapped in that bathroom, about being so sure that she was going to die.
"You know that, right?" It's important, to her. That he knows, and he knows how much it means to her.
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"I do," he said, squeezing it. His first instinct was to tell her he was just doing his job or something like that, but that made it sound so impersonal, like she wasn't important. She was giving him the gift of her thanks and he wasn't about to turn it away. Both for his sake and for hers. He wanted to tell her that he was glad he got there in time but was afraid that would conjure up all the thoughts of 'what if he hadn't?' and neither of them wanted that.
So he settled for squeezing her hand back.
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"You have to get out soon, okay? I don't think they'd approve of me bringing you things, because of how much butter I use." That's acting like she's going to be in a kitchen soon, which she hasn't even thought about.
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"I think they've been convinced to let me out on Tuesday so long as I go stay with my family for a few days," he said. It wasn't what he wanted, not by a long shot, but it was better than being stuck in here for a week. Especially if it meant getting some of her baking because he was pretty sure that she would try and bake something.
"Which is better than staying here, but only barely."
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Because she needs it. Not that she'd admit it.
She smiles when he says his family is only a little bit better than being here, and she understands. "I... that's why I'm getting the hell out of here. I've done the hospital-stay-after-horrific-event thing, and I... can't. So... I guess it's home with me." She forces a small smile, shrugging one shoulder.
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"Who's going to check up on you?" he asked, because Levi knew better than to argue to have her stay here. Hospitals were unpleasant places for a lot of people.
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She sort of hesitates when he asks who's going to check up on her, because she doesn't really have an answer to that. Her hand slips from his, and she looks away, and then down at her hands in her lap. "I'm not as hurt as you are," she tries to explain, even though that's not even talking about the mental damage. "So I think I'll be alright." Because she doesn't really have anyone she knows she can count on.
There's a couple of people who maybe - maybe. If she can even get a hold of them, maybe they'd come, but she didn't see how she could even ask for that when she'd never asked them for anything else, and has no idea... she has no idea, but what she does know - deep down, deep in the heart of her - she knows that she can't take it if she asks, and no one comes. She can't, right now, so this is better. With her screwed up, twisted up logic, this is better.
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Levi could sense her struggle, it was so prominent it sent his head throbbing in pain even through the drugs. The fact that she wasn't sure she had anyone she could go to though was more than enough to make him not come up with an excuse to have her go. She probably didn't want to stay too long but he didn't want to send her away until she was ready.
"Well I'm glad you're doing better than I am," he said, leaving it at that and promising himself that he'd check up on her as soon as he could.