The three men gently grabbed hold of Rue to lift him into the wheelchair. He was quite dazed, and frankly, he was a little out of it. They had decided to exaggerate his pain levels so that the nurse would almost overdo it with the pain meds. In fact, it was Rue's suggestion that they'd do that. They had called on the nurse a good while before they would have to leave. While they did humour him, they were only pretending to do it to follow along with his plan. One look at Rue was all it it took. They were certain that they would not need to lie to fulfill his request. The reason they felt so sure of this was because, to everyone but the person himself, it was obvious that Rue was deeply affected by his more than serious injuries. His pain was clearly much more debilitating than he let on.
In the end they decided to just be truthful with the nurse, and the patient was none the wiser, still convinced no one had seen through his one
man act.
As soon as the nurse had disposed of the empty packaging, she turned to her patient. Said patient had planned to pretend to fall asleep to make sure that the nurses would not be checking in on him for a good while. But as soon as he shut his eyes shut, he was out like a light. So by the time the nurse turned back to check how he felt, he was deeply asleep. She left and they all looked at each other. Now what? Their plan had worked, but now they had a new problem. No one had foreseen that that would be all it took for Rue to fall asleep for real. And they really ought to have expected it. After all, he was exhausted in every way. His injuries were serious enough on their own, and the relief from being pain-free must have made him relax completely. Which was great, for him, but not so much for them. They would have to wake him up, but none of them felt right about that.
They hadn't known him long. There was no way for them to know just how long he had been forcing it. How long he had been struggling. Perhaps this somewhat invasive way of helping him to relax and get some sleep might be the helping him more ways than one. Not even the young man himself knew how long it had been since he last relaxed fully. Since he last felt completely at peace. And the kidnappning... it was the last straw.
Mica watched non-committally as they did rock paper scissors to see who would have to be the one to wake up the patient. He was somewhat amused by their behaviour, but after the fourth round ended in yet another tie, he decided to intervene. His own injuries were nowhere near as bad but he was barely keeping it together. He just wanted all of this to be over. He wanted to go home, give James a cuddle and then rest until he had truly regained his strengths. Right now he was just pretending to be okay. He knew it was what he had to do to be what others need him to be at this moment. And he was fine with that. Because if it is within Mica's power to help someone, he always will. No matter the consequences.
"I'll do it. But first I think its best if I go talk to the nursing staff. Otherwise it is likely they will just end their shifts and go home. I mean, without speaking to their replacements about letting Rue sleep."
They agreed and felt relieved that they would not have to go through another round of the wretched game. They hoped that it would take a while for Mica to find the nursing staff so that Rue might get to sleep for a bit. They had no idea what they would have to face that evening, or who, and he would need all his strengths for that.
"Then it's settled." Mica nodded and stopped with his hand on the door post, "I must say you boys surprised me, in a good way. Being so apprehensive about interrupting his rest..." he smiled and shook his head, "That was very sweet of you."
"Come on, stop it. That was just—"
"No, I meant what I said. You can't fool me. You may give people the impression that you are inapproachable and dangerous, but after tonight, I am certain that that is nothing more than a survival technique you boys have had to develop over time." He swallowed and tried to compose himself. There was so much he wanted to say, but he didn't want to make them uncomfortable. He decided he'd try his best to keep the conversation light — or as light as he could muster. "I feel most fortunate to have been able to catch a glimpse of what you four are truly like. Your gentle and kind inner nature that has somehow remained, untainted by everything the world has done to you boys. I admire all four of you and I am in your dept." He sighed and opened the door. Holding on to it, almost like an anchor, he continued, "You may not believe me, but I swear I will do whatever I can to help you all once all of this is over."
He hurried out the door and closed it behind him. He did not want to risk embarrassing them. Their feelings were theirs to feel, and they were not yet close enough for him to feel he had the right to witness their reactions. That being the case, Mica decided it was time to stall.
First he went to the bathroom on another floor. Then he went to get some hot cocoa. He drank the cocoa as he took a stroll through the gift store. After disposing of the cup, he decided it was time to do what he set out to do.
Giving them this time was his way of thanking them. He wanted to give them enough time to compose themselves, just in case they needed that. And the more rest Rue could get, the better.
The nurses station was busy, but not so busy that they didn't notice Mica approaching. A few stopped what they were doing and one got so distracted that she put the needle straight into the patient's arm, nowhere near a vein of any kind.
"Ow! What are you doing?" the patient exclaimed.
The nurse flinched and looked back at him. At what she was doing. She did not notice what she'd done until she followed the patient's pointed gaze and noticed the needle sticking out of his upper arm. It was in quite deep and quite close to the elbow too, which was likely why it had hurt. She hastily removed the needle, held a piece of cotton against the wound and gently fixated a new needle into the healthiest looking vein. All while apologising profusely for her carelessness.
Mica was humble, but he knew he looked decent for his age. His beloved James often told him that he had aged like a fine wine, but being the love of his existence, they were likely a tad biased. That's what he always figured anyway. Until the other day. One of their kids were upset their passport-photo hadn't come out the way they'd hoped. Mica had assured them it looked fine and that no one was over the moon over how they looked in their passport-photo. That led them to ask to see their parents passport-photos. James did not have one, and both parents made a note to get that sorted soon. They couldn't go on any impromptu romantic trips abroad unless they both had a valid one. Mica's was still good so he decided to show them his. That's what he did and it did not help the situation. They let themselves be comforted by James as Mica had to play the villain.
They told him it wasn't fair that he looked to be the same age as them, his kids, if not younger in his photo. Granted, the passport was a few years old, so he was sure he looked older now. Still, he was very flattered by their unintentional compliments. It was so unexpected that it made his cheeks turned rosy, which his darling of coursed fussed endlessly over. The truth was that after being a teen dad for what felt like a century, he had become so used to hearing "Ew dad, you're gross!" that he was utterly unprepared to receive such a compliment. And so, the father found he now had an extra skip in his step.
With this new spark of confidence, his caring, concerned knight in shining arms type of personality all along with his ruggedly handsome appearance, the entire staff naturally became putty in his hands. They agreed to talk to the night nurses to make sure they let the patient in room 608 have his rest. They also offered to give Mica permission to come see the patient as often as he wished, without the limits of the set visiting hours. He gratefully accepted. He was about to leave when a woman stopped him. It was the one who had made the offer. She looked to be in her late forties and she wore a kind smile that made her hazel eyes sparkle. The lines around her eyes and mouth told a story and her short, curly reddish brown hair framed her face.
"I know what it's like," she told him empathetically as she pulled him away and took his hand in both of hers, "and in situations like this, strict visiting hours do more harm than good. Patients who have been through trauma need to be around the people who love and care for them the most. As good as our team is, we are still strangers. For a victim to be left alone like that, trapped in a room with nothing but their own thoughts and memories... it is just not healthy. And sometimes... sometimes it doesn't end well. Like what my son was put through."
His eyes watered at the woman's honesty. His heart was not prepared to hear such strong emotions in the words she entrusted him with. He couldn't even bear to imagine what it would be like, losing one of his children.
It hurt him a great deal to see Rue in that state, and they had not known each other long. Though he supposed that when it came right down to it, how long you've known someone doesn't matter much. It was all about the connection, the bond.
"Your son got hurt?" He asked carefully. The other staff members had slipped away and returned to their work, trying to be respectful and offer the two some privacy.
She opened her mouth, but lost her words instantly. A single tear escaped her glistening eyes. Mica squeezed her hands and led her to the seats next to the wall.
After a shuddering breath, she sniffled and tried once more. "Yes and no. It was his best friend whom got hurt. His parents didn't let my son see him and their own relationship with their son was very cold and distant. Though they came to see him a few times, they never stayed long. Without any real support, without my son there, he was all alone.
I had had my suspicions about the nature of their relationship. I knew my boy loved freely, that he fell for a person's soul first and foremost. It is one of the many things I love and admire him for. But I didn't want to make him tell me until he was ready.
They had kept him away for three days. That's when my boy had finally had enough. He decided to sneak in to see his friend, but the nurses stopped him. He caused quite the scene and when they went to check on the patient, he wasn't there. My son proceeded to yell at them, set them straight and assured them that it would never have happened if his friend had been in his care. If he had been there. If he had been permitted to see him. Nevertheless, he helped them look for him and as he did, he called me. I was then the one who called the boy's parents. They were a little annoyed that I had called when their son had probably just gone for a wander. They told me that they couldn't just leave in the middle of work. Especially not for what they considered to be another of the boy's "selfish whims". I was so mad that I hung up on them and drove to the hospital myself to help my son with the search.
This poor boy had left his hospital room in his badly injured state, scared and alone, wearing nothing but a hospital gown, all so that he could find my son. Yet somehow not a single member of their staff had noticed he was gone or seen him leave." Her angry tears flowed freely as she tried her hardest to calm herself.
He waited patiently, wiping away her tears as they fell. He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand that was still clutching his own.
"The boy was certainly not well enough to be up and about and therefore he didn't get far. As he was crossing the road right next to the hospital, he got dizzy and had to stop. A person on her lunch break saw him sink down in the middle of the road and ran to his aid. But before she reached him, the lorry did. The driver didn't see him crouching there and the boy died on impact. I say boy, because that is what he was. He was poor child of only seventeen who had been left to his own devices for so long that it had taught him that he was all alone in this world, and that love was simply not meant for him. My son was the best thing for him, and he was the only person who was not permitted to visit.
I arrived soon after and I saw that there had been an accident. I couldn't get to the hospital parking lot, and I didn't care. I just drove as close as I could, stopped the car, locked it and ran. I had this feeling that I just couldn't shake. Even though I was stopped before I could reach the crossing, I saw enough from where I did get and what I couldn't saw, I heard. They were trying so hard to save him, but it was just too late. When I heard them call time of death, I froze and held my breath. I caught a glimpse of him when they lifted him onto the gurney and then I just screamed, kicked and pulled away until none of them could hold on to me. I ran toward the gurney and shouted that I know that boy. That they have to save him, that he's my son's best friend and they couldn't just give up on him. Two of the paramedics wheeled the body away while the other two tried to soothe me.
I suppose I went into shock after that. The next thing I remember is my son running toward me as I sat on a gurney of my own with blankets around my shoulders and a nurse's hand patting my shoulder. When I saw him, my mothering instincts took over and broke through my state of shock. I stood up just as my son barrelled into me. He asked me so many questions all at once and I clung to him, cherishing the feel of his warmth against my skin. His heart beating against my own. He was still alive, but soon he would be in so much pain he would wish he wasn't. And I knew I had to be the one to tell him everything. All of it. I would have to be the one to take his smile away. So I clung to him, absorbing as much of his love as I could before I would have to say the words that would make him hate me..." her breath caught and she began to sob, "The expression on his face, the sounds he made that day... I will never be able to forget it. Any of it. No matter how much I wish I could. It has been years since that day and some nights the memories still plague my dreams. I can still hear the way he cried as his heart broke and his world shattered."
She squeezed Mica's hand and looked into his eyes. She had not planned to tell him all of this, him being a complete stranger and all. But when he looked at her, she was overcome with a innate need to tell him everything. There was just something about him. Perhaps she had also kept things bottled up for too long. But even so, she didn't regret telling him her story. In fact, she felt rather relieved, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. For so long she had focused on her son's pain, neglecting to acknowledge her own trauma. To think that this morning she had woken up and gone to work, thinking it would be a day like any other. She had had no idea the day would turn out like this, but she was so grateful that it did.
"I am so sorry for your loss, and for your son's loss. How did the boy's parents take the news?"
She laughed humourlessly. "They didn't even answer their phones, even though they knew their son was missing and that it was the hospital calling. The staff called their offices too, so they were perfectly aware of the urgency and still they did not care. Even I called them a few times and left messages. Eventually they called me back and I let the doctor answer the phone. I was in no mood to deal with them.
Both my son and I could hear them threaten to sue the hospital for malpractice, for losing their son. I hoped their misplaced anger was no more than empty words, some initial part of their grieving process. But then I heard them ask if my son was there. They told the doctor to call the police to come take him away and I heard them say this as I sat there with my inconsolable child lying there, shaking in my arms. I snapped and got hold of the phone to give them a piece of my mind.
I knew I should have said something when I saw again and again how their neglect and their rejection hurt their son. But I made excuses for them every time, telling myself I didn't have the full story. I told them about my regret and I said that I would be more than happy to fix my err in judgement and have them both reported now, and that if they so much as mention my son's name, I would make sure they were both arrested.
They went to see their son later that same night, but they never reached out to us. While they didn't sue or try to have my son arrested, they did fight for an insurance claim and then they went ahead and requested for a restraining order to be put in place against my son. They refused to invite us to the funeral and didn't want to risk us showing up uninvited.
After their request was firmly denied, the police came to talk to me and my son and we told them everything. They made sure the two of them would not be allowed to foster or adopt again. I can't share the details of court case, but the whole thing went to trial, we testified, and they were both found guilty on all charges. Sadly, due to some select words being said to their friends in high places, they got off easy with six months in prison and community service. But at least we can say we did the right thing by the boy, even if it was too little too late. I hope it helped him find peace wherever he is now."
Mica bit his lip, deep in thought. He remembered having heard about a case like this, but where? He needed to find out more. As a foster parent and adoptive parent himself, stories like this infuriated him. He found it sickening that people like that could be allowed to care for a child, often only because they checked all the boxes as wealthy, white and married heterosexuals.
He did not exactly have the time to sit here and listen to the woman's story, but he could see that she needed to tell someone about it and he was glad she found the courage and strength to. He supposed he had simply given the boys a little extra time to talk amongst themselves. They ought to be fine on time as long as they stuck to their schedule religiously from here on.
Besides, he was glad he had stayed to hear her out, because this was a case he would be sure to make the firm investigate this more closely. As a retired judge, he had quite a bit of pull in the system, and he had no qualms about using it for a matter like this one. He wasn't yet sure why, but this case felt important. And he knew better than to distrust his gut instinct. It had always served him well.
He got the woman's name and contact information, along with the names of the boy's parents, her son, the doctor and the lawyer. He recognised the name of the lawyer right away...
Mica bit back his anger and assured her that he would do whatever he could and that he'd get back to her when he had more information to give them both. To be polite, she half-heartedly told him he didn't need to do that, but she couldn't hide how happy it made her when he dismissed her attempt to stop him and said he would. He smiled and squeezed her hand once more, told her to take care of herself and then he returned to the room.
***
Rue was still asleep so Mica sat down and told the others about what had happened, why he was gone for so long. Then he woke him up and with some coffee, pillows and words of encouragement, they managed to get Rue seated in the chair. Bly arranged the bed that it looked like someone was still lying in it. Jules opened the door and together they discreetly zig-zagged down the hall. A fellow resident at the Place worked as a janitor at the hospital and with her help, they were able to map out the location of each security camera within its walls. It enabled them to protect themselves from being caught on camera, but as an added safety measure, she would go in to check them after work to make sure they hadn't missed one.
Once they were out of the building, they continued down a sidewalk until they reached the boys' van. It was parked a block away. Bly opened the side doors and Marcus carefully rolled him inside and locked the chair. Mica settled into the passager seat while the others sat in the back with Rue. When everyone had their seatbelts on, Marcus started the car. Mica though it best that Rue could not see the open road as they drove, lest it triggered his memories. The others agreed and decided amongst themselves to let Marcus drive, figuring it would be good to let them have some time to talk.
The front seats were separated from the rest of the van by a wall of sorts. Similar to that of a taxi, only the divide was solid and not made out of plastic, but pure metal instead. The divide was thick enough that the others would not be able to see or hear them. Marcus was gathering his courage to ask something and just as he turned his head and opened his mouth, Mica shouted "Stop!"
Marcus flinched, wondering what he could have done wrong. By pure reflex, he did stop the car. He frowned when he noticed Mica was not even looking at him, but at something else entirely. Someone else. There was a tall man standing in front of them. He was leaning heavily against the car. His eyes were wide and his nostrils were flaring. He seemed positively petrified as he leaned toward them with his fingers spread wide, all pressed against the hood of the car.
"It's him. Why, why is he here? Marcus, you see him too, don't you?"
"I do..." Marcus said unsurely, "Who is he?"
"That's the lawyer."