music seems to help the pain
Who: puttingonashow, americafuckyou
What: Brayko is dragged off for medical treatment due to his bullet sponge nature, and the two finally have a chance to sit down and talk.
Where: Business District, at the hospital
When: Day after the station shoot-out.
Rating: PG-13 at the very most.
Notes: Updated as needed.
Of course Thorton had made good on his threat. Brayko shouldn't have expected anything less, despite how had had hoped that it had all been nothing more than another part of his professional façade, but being dragged into the hospital, bruised and in handcuffs?
He could understand why the man did it. But it sure as hell didn't mean that he liked it. At all.
And even having the agent at his back did nothing for the still growing unease that had been building since Brayko had been admitted. He didn't know these doctors, didn't own their loyalty or their silence like he did those back in Moscow. On the plus side, he supposed that none of the staff knew him either, at least not yet, but the knowledge still did little to actually ease his mind. They could still show up. Someone could recognize him from the streets, could tip off that bastard cop while Brayko was without weapons and vulnerable. And even if Thorton did risk trying to help him a second time, there was only so much that the former agent could do without getting both of them shot.
He scratched at the bandages around his shoulder again, wiped his nose with the back of his hand and shifted restlessly on the flimsy mattress of the hospital bed. His high was finally gone, too. He couldn't sleep. His head already hurt with the promise of a future migraine, and his back ached with every movement. Soon as he was released, the first thing he needed to do was find someone, anyone he could deal with in this city, stock up on what drugs he could until he and Thorton managed to find a way back to their own home.
It couldn't be too hard to, right?
What: Brayko is dragged off for medical treatment due to his bullet sponge nature, and the two finally have a chance to sit down and talk.
Where: Business District, at the hospital
When: Day after the station shoot-out.
Rating: PG-13 at the very most.
Notes: Updated as needed.
Of course Thorton had made good on his threat. Brayko shouldn't have expected anything less, despite how had had hoped that it had all been nothing more than another part of his professional façade, but being dragged into the hospital, bruised and in handcuffs?
He could understand why the man did it. But it sure as hell didn't mean that he liked it. At all.
And even having the agent at his back did nothing for the still growing unease that had been building since Brayko had been admitted. He didn't know these doctors, didn't own their loyalty or their silence like he did those back in Moscow. On the plus side, he supposed that none of the staff knew him either, at least not yet, but the knowledge still did little to actually ease his mind. They could still show up. Someone could recognize him from the streets, could tip off that bastard cop while Brayko was without weapons and vulnerable. And even if Thorton did risk trying to help him a second time, there was only so much that the former agent could do without getting both of them shot.
He scratched at the bandages around his shoulder again, wiped his nose with the back of his hand and shifted restlessly on the flimsy mattress of the hospital bed. His high was finally gone, too. He couldn't sleep. His head already hurt with the promise of a future migraine, and his back ached with every movement. Soon as he was released, the first thing he needed to do was find someone, anyone he could deal with in this city, stock up on what drugs he could until he and Thorton managed to find a way back to their own home.
It couldn't be too hard to, right?