The Trials of Being Loved

Part 49 - Deteriorating Polar Bear

"Well then," He announced to no one, "Shall we get this shit show on the road?" Head bent down, miner's light illuminating his way, he began to stitch and push bones back into place. Where he couldn't, he picked them out, discarding them into an old blue plastic bedpan. He started with his head, moving down his body, pausing when he got to his middle section. There, he could see actual foot prints. 

Surgical tools clattered. "I told you before. Why bring them to me if they're gonna die? I FUCKING need an x-ray machine at the very least! Who the fuck knows what they've broken on the inside" He started to move things around, feeling his way. "Broken ribs for sure." He muttered softly. He looked at the man and mouthed, "Assaulted?" The stalked blinked once, his eyes shiny from shed and unshed tears. 

Another deep sigh. The doctor looked at his patient, no longer just another mess of torn and bleeding flesh and bones. "Help me turn him over. I need to check something." Compassion flooded his body as he saw what had happened. He took out saline solution and began to flush the open, torn wounds. 

The gangster, clinically watching, "Is this necessary, Doc? He's a bad man, you know."

"So are you and I wouldn't leave you without the ability to take a fucking shit, asshole." The doc muttered under his breath as he calmly continued to stich up the stalker, then inserted a catheter and colostomy bag. If there was one good thing about being associated with the Mafia, they didn't lack plenty of supplies for basic repairs. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Healing, Tay realized, was one of the most tedious activities your body went through. He found that prayer only went so far, due to the taxing toll it took on his body. After the doctor had did his last examination and found his stitches had split, a firm warning had been issued: prayers were fine, but NO MORE physical devotion or else.

Tay didn't want to know what the 'or else' entailed, the doctor had the same gleam in his eye as his father did, when HE was in his 'threatening' phase. 

"I need someone to talk to." He sighed audibly, pushing air out using his diaphragm. It hurt, because of the internal injuries but hey, all exercise had to be good and this one he could sneak past that pain in the butt doctor. 

His father, sitting quietly on the sofa working, looked up at the soft words, "What am I? Invisible?" 

Laughing carefully, Tay considered the question. "Yes, usually. When was the last time we were in the same room together for longer than 30 minutes?" 

"Good answer." His father looked a bit sheepish, knowing it was his fault that he knew of his son more through reports than anything else. "At least you knew enough to call for help. I must have done something right." 

"Dad..." Tay hesitated, before continuing slowly, "I really don't know what I'm doing." His fingers played restlessly with the light sheet that covered him from the draft from the aircon. "I think I fucked up royally and I don't know how to fix it."

A wry smile crossed his father's face. "Does this have anything to do with why your young man hasn't been by yet? I'm very curious about him. Your mother is constantly nagging me."

"Dad!" Tay tried to sit up, before the pain sent him back to lay flat down again. "Dad, please leave me with some dignity." 

"Until I know the problem, teasing is usually the only way to get you to speak up. Spit it out, Tay." Turning his head, Tay looked over and watched his father put his laptop aside and lean forward, elbows now on his knees. "Honestly, there is nothing that can't be repaired in a relationship unless you, hmm, abandoned him or beat him. I don't think you did either of those things. So... what is it, boy?"

A faint flush crossed Tay's face. This was the problem with his father: his words had always cut deep. "Dad, I hurt him badly by not having faith in him. I hurt him by..." Here, Tay hesitated because he wasn't sure if their trust issues were the biggest issue or the communication problem was. Ah fuck it! Nothing would be solved without seeing Newwie again! Tay bit the bullet and spit out the rest of what was bothering him. "I can't seem to talk to him without being jealous of everyone else. It rises up in me like a tidal wave and I feel anger to the point I lash out."

Now his Father stood up and walked to the stool near the bed, sitting down. He reached for Tay's hand and held it gently. "Those aren't two separate issues, Tay. They are the same thing and both of them are YOUR problem, not your lover's. You have no faith in yourself. You don't trust yourself around him, therefore you believe no one else will either." 

He patted his son's hand several times and stood up. "Reflect on that for a while. Sleep, or pray. I need some exercise so I'll go check on the operation before coming back." Tay nodded, lips tightly sealed. Why didn't HE think of that? Maybe he was slow... 

~~~~~~~~~~

#3 was becoming concerned. He had brought in two meals, both ignored. No, HE had been ignored as well. The client hadn't even moved in the bed when he spoke. This was becoming a bad episode. Fuckity fuck fuck! 

He turned, the last untouched meal tray had to be disposed after sitting there for hours. As he used his shoulder to move the black out curtain aside, there was the new man standing there. He bobbed his head, "Sir, excuse me, Sir." He went to step around. 

The man held up a hand, stopping him. "Guard? Is it okay to enter? I would like to speak with your charge. I have questions." 

Number #3's eyes narrowed. He pressed a button on his com and spoke very softly. "Sir? I have..." He waited until the man supplied his name, "Vihokratana wanting to see my charge." The irony was not lost on him. "This is NOT a good time, Sir." 

He could hear Tam laughing, and it made his blood boil, despite reading his hourly reports. "Let him in, #3. Let him see. You know the drill." 

"Yes, Sir." It felt like lately that he was back in the special forces, doing drills, with the amount of about faces he was doing. He hid his deep sigh by doing a deep abdominal breath and with his same shoulder, despite holding the tray, held the curtain open. "Please, Sir, enter." He followed, carrying the tray, to redeposit on the table. 

Tay's father stared at the blanket covered lump on the bed. "What is his name?" 

With a completely blank face, #3 answered blandly. "New Thitipoom, Sir." 

Mr. Vihokrantana spun to face him. "Pardon? Are you telling me my son is in love with his co-worker? Why is he like this? Is he asleep?"

"Are those questions you should be asking me, Sir, or your son?" #3 refused to violate the client's privacy any further than his mandatory reports. His son KNEW of New's health issues. His lips clamped together. 

Wearily, the elder man surveyed the lump that hadn't moved at all and then the bodyguard. He gave one brisk nod and turned, leaving the room. #3 watched as the black out curtain thumped heavily back into place, before calling for someone to pick up the food tray. His gut told him not to leave New alone for the foreseeable future. He pulled up the lone chair in the room and settled down for the long haul. 

Even in the service, he had a perfect record. He wasn't about to loose it now.