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"I wish you hadn't come in here," he croaked. As she winced, he thought about his choice of words. "What I mean is - "
"I know what you mean." Her voice hardened. "Are you hungry?"
"Yeah." He struggled to push himself up. "But I'd really like a shower."
She got to her feet, rising like mist she was so graceful, and his breath caught as she walked to him. Man, that pale blue dress was the exact color of her eyes.
"Let me help you to the bath."
"No, I can do it."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "If you try to get to the bathroom on your own, you will fall and you will hurt yourself."
"Call a nurse, then. I don't want you to touch me."
She stared at him for a moment. Then blinked her eyes once. Twice.
"Will you excuse me for a moment?" she said in a level tone. "I need to use the lavatory. You can call the nurse by pushing that red button on the remote there."
She went into the bathroom and shut the door. Water started to run.
Butch reached for the little button pad, but stopped as the rush of the sink continued to bleed through the door. The sound was uninterrupted, not as if someone was washing their hands or their face or filling a glass.
And it continued, on and on.
With a grunt, he shuffled off the bed and stood up, hanging himself on the IV pole until the thing shook from the effort of keeping him upright. He put one foot in front of the other until he got to the bathroom door. He pressed his ear against the wood. All he could hear was water.
For some reason, he knocked softly. Then knocked again. He gave it one more shot, then turned the knob, even though he would embarrass the hell out of them both if she was using the facilities -
Marissa was on the toilet, as it turned out. But the seat was down.
And she was weeping. Shaking and weeping.
"Oh... Jesus, Marissa."
She let out a shriek, as if he were the last thing on the planet she wanted to see. "Get out!"
He lurched in and sank to his knees in front of her. "Marissa..."
Burying her face in her hands, she snapped, "I would like some privacy, if you don't mind."
He reached over and shut the water off. As the basin emptied with a little gurgle, her muffled breathing took over where the sound of the faucet had left off.
"It's all right," he said. "You'll leave soon. You'll get out - "
"Shut up!" She dropped her hands long enough to glare at him. "Just go back to bed and call the nurse if you haven't already."
He sat back on his heels, woozy but determined. "I'm sorry you got trapped with me."
"I bet you are."
He frowned. "Marissa - "
The sound of the air lock being broken cut him off.
"Cop?" V's voice was unmuffled by protective gear.
"Hold up," Butch called out. Marissa didn't need more of an audience.
"Where are you, cop? Something wrong?"
Butch meant to stand up. He really did. But when he grabbed onto the IV pole and pulled, his body gave out, just went right to rubber on him. Marissa tried to grab him, but he slid from her grasp, ending up sprawled on the bathroom tile, his cheek next to the seal around the toilet base. Dimly, he heard Marissa talking in urgent bursts. Then V's goatee came into his line of sight.
Butch looked at his roommate... and shit, his vision got blurry, he was so happy to see the bastard. Vishous's face was just the same, the dark bearding around his mouth right where it should be, the tattoos on the temple unchanged, those diamond-bright irises still glowing. Familiar, so familiar. Home and family wrapped up in a vampire package.
Butch didn't let any tears fall, though. He was already hopelessly incapacitated next to a toilet, for chrissakes. Sapping out would be the cap to this gown of shame he'd pulled on.
Blinking fiercely, he said, "Where's your f**king gear, man? You know, the yellow suit."
V smiled, his eyes a little shiny as if he too were choked up. "Don't worry, I'm covered. So, I guess you're back, true?"
"And ready to rock and roll."
"Really."
"For sure. I'm thinking about a future in contracting. Wanted to see how this bathroom was put together. Excellent tile work. You should check it."
"How about I carry you back to bed?"
"I want to look at the sink pipes next."
Respect and affection clearly drove V's cool smirk. "At least let me help you up."
"Nah, I can do it." With a groan, Butch gave the vertical move a shot, but then eased back down onto the tile. Turned out lifting his head was a little overwhelming. But if they left him here long enough - a week, maybe ten days?
"Come on, cop. Cry uncle here and let me help."
Butch was suddenly too tired to front. As he went totally limp, he was aware of Marissa staring at him and thought, man, could he look any weaker? Shit, the only saving grace was that there wasn't a cold breeze on his butt.
Which suggested the hospital gown had stayed closed. Thank you, God.
V's thick arms tunneled under him and then he was lifted easily. As they went forward, he refused to let his head rest on his friend's shoulder, even though it gave him the sweats to keep the thing upright. When he was back on the bed, shivers racked his whole body and the room spun.
Before V straightened, Butch grabbed the male's arm and whispered, "I need to talk to you. Alone."
"What's doing?" V said with equal quiet.
Butch looked over at Marissa, who was hovering in the corner.
With a flush, she glanced at the bathroom, then picked up two large paper bags. "I think I'll take a shower. Will you excuse me?" She didn't wait for a response, just disappeared into the loo.
As the door shut, V sat on the edge of the bed. "Talk to me."
"What kind of danger is she in?"
"I've taken care of her and three days in, she seems fine. She can probably leave soon. We're all pretty convinced by now there's no cross-infection thing going on."
"What's she been exposed to? What was I exposed to?"
"You know you were with the lessers, true?"
Butch lifted one of his busted-up hands. "And here I thought I'd been to Elizabeth Arden."
"Smart-ass. You were there about a day - "
Abruptly, he grabbed V's arm. "I didn't crack. No matter what they did to me, I didn't say a thing about the Brotherhood. I swear."
V put his hand over Butch's and squeezed. "I know you didn't, my man. I know you wouldn't."
"Good."
As they both let go, V's eyes went to Butch's fingertips, as if he were imagining what had been done to them. "What do you remember?"
"Only the feelings. The pain and the... dread. Fear. Pride... the pride is how I know I didn't squeal, how I know they didn't break me."
V nodded and drew a hand-rolled out of his pocket. Just before he lit up, he looked at the oxygen feed, cursed, and put the cig back. "Listen, buddy, I gotta ask... you okay in the head? I mean, going through something like that - "
"I'm cool. Always was too dumb to have PTSD or some shit, and besides, I've got no real memory of what went down. As long as Marissa can walk out of here okay, then, yeah, I'm fine." He scrubbed his face, feeling the itch of his beard growth, dropped his arm. As his hand landed on his abdomen, he thought of the black wound. "You have any idea what they did to me?"
When V shook his head, Butch cursed. The guy was like a walking Google link, so him not knowing was a bad thing.
"But I'm on it, cop. I will find an answer for you, I promise." The brother nodded at Butch's stomach. "So how's it look?"
"Don't know. Been too busy being in a coma to worry about my six-pack."
"Mind if I?"
Butch shrugged and pushed the covers down. As V lifted up the hospital johnny, they both looked down at his belly. The skin was not right around the wound, all gray and puckered.
"Does it hurt?" V asked.
"Like a mother. Feels... cold. Like there's dry ice in my gut."
"Will you let me do something?"
"What?"
"Just a little healing thing I've been throwing at you."
"Sure." Except that when V brought up his business hand and started talking off that glove, Butch recoiled. "What are you going to do with that thing?"
"Trust me, true?"
Butch barked a laugh. "Last time you said that I ended up with a vampire cocktail, remember?"
