Fic: Silent Tango 4/5
Title: Silent Tango
Fandom: Fake News
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Jon/Stephen
Summary:
Chapter: 4/5
“Mr. Stewart, if you don’t calm yourself I’m going to have to have you removed from the building. You’re frightening my patients and I will not permit that.”
Jon raised his hands in apology and sank back into the waiting room chair. “I’m sorry. It’s just…stressful, y’know?” He sighed and lowered his voice. “I’ve been here for four hours now and I haven’t received any information since I got here besides the fact that he’s on the operating table. And honestly, there’s only so long I can calm myself, drink bad coffee, stare at the hideous carpet pattern and listen to CNN gossiping about Stephen being shot, which, by the way, they found out about from Twitter, but I’ve tried, I really have, so it really would be nice if someone told me what the hell was going on.”
His tone remained level, and his voice pleasant, a hair’s breadth below patronizing as he smiled up at the four and a half foot woman in front of him with his legs crossed and hands folded on his knees.
The doctor opened her mouth to reprimand him again, but thought better of it and consulted the chart in her hands.
“Mr. Colbert was shot in the left shoulder, about three inches above his heart. The bullet pierced straight through to the other side, exiting the body. He passed out from blood loss before the ambulances arrived, and went into shock before we could get him to the hospital. He slipped into a coma as we were taking him into the operating room.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Jon interrupted, unfolding his legs and sitting up, “I know something about comas…they aren’t caused by being shot. Not if it’s in the shoulder.”
She sighed. “We believe he suffered head trauma when he fell onto the sidewalk. We won’t be able to tell unle-until he wakes up, but we believe he has at least a minor concussion, if not more.”
“But he’ll be all right?”
“We’re treating him for shock and getting fresh blood pumped into him. His shoulder should heal up fine. The head trauma may be more serious, but everything’s looking quite encouraging.”
He nodded, not feeling much better. “Any other injuries I should know about?”
“It looks like he’s sprained his left wrist, but that’s about it.”
Jon stared. He knew if it was any one else, or even other circumstances he’d probably laugh, but proper wrist health just didn’t seem funny anymore.
***
Three weeks later it was Jason’s turn to bring Jon clean clothes, some decent food, and a lecture.
“Hey Jon. How’s he doing?
“No change. Is that a cheeseburger?”
“Yeah. When’s the last time you ate?”
No response.
“Did they ever figure out that funky brain wave thing he was doing?”
“Hmm? Oh, no. They got a second machine in here to see if it was technical glitch, but it still showed the same thing. A second, ghosting brain wave pattern right under the first.”
“Weird.”
“Yeah. That’s our Stephen. Never enough to be average. You brought fries, right?”
“They’re in the bag. …Look, Jon, the bigwigs upstairs…”
“I know, I know. They want me out of here and back on the air. What’s this?”
“Bag of snacks for later, tide you over ‘til Sam gets here- Look, can you really blame them? It has been three weeks…We haven’t released a statement about what happened. The rumors are running wild. People think both you and Stephen are dead!”
“It’s only been three weeks, one of which we were scheduled for vacation anyway. Besides, Stephen needs time to mend, and all our fans know we’re a package deal. When Stephen wakes up, we’ll give him a week or so to finish healing and then get back on the air. Are these bananas? I hate bananas.”
“Jon…We really can’t afford to- Wait a minute. You ate an entire bunch of bananas at our last staff meeting. Aasif was teasing you about it.”
“Well, I don’t like them anymore. Look, it’ll only be a couple more days. He’ll probably be up and about by Tuesday. Wednesday at the latest.”
***
Stephen woke up on a Thursday morning, at about 9:15.
“Jon?”
Jon nearly bolted from his chair. “I’m here, Stephen.”
“What happened?”
“You got shot. The police aren’t really sure what happened.”
Stupid useless fuckers. Washington D.C. Security, what a fucking joke. Can’t even provide proper fucking security at a high profile event full of -
Stephen laughed, and then winced as he pulled at his wound, seeming to take notice of it for the first time.
Geez Jon, why don’t you tell me what you really think.
Jon softened and laughed too.
Stephen was going to be all right. Everything was going to be all right now.
***
Stephen wasn’t due to be released for another couple of weeks, but Jon and the rest of the producers tentatively scheduled the shows to resume at the end of the month.
This was the first information released to the fans since the news of the shooting and the show’s indefinite hiatus. Because there was still worry about the attempted assassination, Stephen’s location wasn’t revealed to the public, but flowers and gifts started to overflow the Daily Show and Colbert Report offices. The teams picked out the best and sent them over to the hospital.
***
Stephen still sleeps a lot, but Jon’s assured that it’s normal and the best thing for him. So Jon sleeps a lot too, catching up on all he’s missed over the past few weeks.
The dreams start almost immediately.
Nightmares. Nightmares of New York in ruins, the Statue of Liberty toppled on her side, as the city burns before her, no other living souls visible.
Jon realizes they’re Stephen’s immediately. The 30 foot Grizzly flattening SUVs with his massive oversized claws kind of gives it away.
Stephen doesn’t seem particularly out of sorts when he wakes, making Jon wonder how often and for how long he’s had these particular dreams.
He doesn’t say anything about it though; it seems like a final line that shouldn’t be crossed. If Stephen wants to tell him about the dreams, that’s his business.
He tries to hide the fact that he’s aware of the dreams, but he’s fairly sure Stephen knows anyway. It’s getting increasingly difficult for one to keep anything from the other.
They speak less and less, preferring to sit in comfortable silence, often laughing for hours at memories and jokes, emotions they aren’t even sure are theirs anymore.
Jon is reminded of the joke about the comedians who know each other’s jokes so well they only have to refer to them by number. It’s just like Stephen and him to take it a step further.
There are plenty of awkward moments still, accidentally coming across buried memories, personal moments alone with their wives or old girlfriends, that one time at the gym…one of them, they forget which, describe it as ignoring an elephant in the room that’s misbehaving because it’s the pet of someone you want to be polite around.
This worries them occasionally, this ‘mind-meld’, as Stephen insists on calling it, (he’s really more of nerd then he lets slip, Jon learns. He now knows more about the Lord of the Rings and the sex lives of Elves then he ever really thought one could know), but they can’t seem to find a way around it, and on the rare times when Jon is finally bustled out of Stephen’s room by a burly nurse who insists visiting hours ended four hours ago, there’s a point on the highway back to his hotel where they can feel they’ve dropped out of contact. And they feel so alone.
***
It was nearing evening on another silent afternoon, the last before Stephen was due to be released. Stephen sat propped up against a few pillows, examining the stars and stripes Jon had helped him draw on his shoulder bandage. Jon sat opposite, leaning comfortably in the overstuffed armchair that had nearly become a second home over the past month, the last rays of afternoon sun falling across his smiling face as he watched Stephen count the stars on his handiwork.
I Love You.
They both freeze, Stephen in mid-count, Jon with a laugh that never quite escaped his lips.
It takes them a moment to determine which one of them had ‘said’ it.
When Jon figured it out, his mind slowed to a rapid stop for a heartbeat, then suddenly took off at a thousand miles an hour.
He loves me. He loves me. What do I say? I don’t know! What do I think? I think…I think…Wait a minute, if I love him, is it just because he loves me? Because we’re becoming the same person?! If I love him-and I don’t even know if I do, but if I do, do I want it to be just because of some freaky-mind-thing? What the Hell do I say? Is this one of those things we pretend didn’t happen? I-Oh, Shit.
Stephen hadn’t looked up from his shoulder, finger resolutely tracing the 27th star - Which state was that? Stephen knew, but Jon couldn’t remember it right now - right by his wound. He was trembling slightly, and his eyes filling up with tears that he refused to acknowledge by blinking away.
He had heard everything.
And in that moment, Jon knew exactly what to do.
He got up from his chair and strode over to Stephen, who didn’t even seem to have the interest to flinch, still intensely focused on the sharpie markings on the gauze, tears now running unchecked.
Sitting on the side of the tiny hospital bed, Jon reached out and turned the other man’s head to face him, but Stephen’s eyes roved the room, desperate for anything else to focus on.
Stephen? I want you to look at me.
With nowhere else to land, his eyes finally made their way up to Jon’s.
The look they gave Jon nearly broke his heart.
The pure terror, openness, and above all, despair and acceptance Jon could feel radiate from Stephen translated into a single gaze. The responding surge of protectiveness and affection it raised in Jon shattered any remaining doubts he harbored.
Fucked up telepathic mind-meld or not, he never wanted Stephen to look or feel like this again.
I love you too.
Nothing happened for a few seconds, Stephen merely blinking at Jon’s admission, and then they were kissing.
It wasn’t like the previous times they had kissed, need and fear and vodka mingling in the early kisses to create a passion they didn’t need to analyze or even think about. Nor was it like the quick, giggling kisses they had exchanged over lunches behind locked office doors and over a table in a corner booth of a diner, nervously looking over their shoulders for anyone who could have seen them.
This kiss wasn’t earth shattering. It wasn’t likely to make a list in ‘The Princess Bride’ (Another secret passion they shared. Stephen had seen the movie countless times and even read the book, and Jon had started reading it to his kids and then taken it to bed and finished it himself when they’d fallen asleep), it wasn’t full of repressed emotions suddenly bursting forth, nor was it a prelude to something more.
It was quiet, and open, and…nice. They didn’t have to think, or listen to the other think. They just relaxed, and enjoyed themselves. And when it was over they did it again. And a third time. And they were about to do it again, or perhaps pull apart and say something when someone cleared their throat behind them.
Turning to look, they were met by the sight of a nurse, hands on her hips, a frown on her face, though it looked as if a smile was fighting to get out.
“You called?” She gestured towards the bed.
Glancing down, Jon noticed he was indeed sitting on the call button.
“Ah…”
Both men were fighting blushes, and Stephen was trying to hide behind Jon.
“All right boys, visiting hours are just ending. And we have a big day tomorrow now, don’t we?”
With a promise to come back in the morning to take Stephen home and bring a batch of Strawberry Blueberry pancakes and some decent coffee with him, Jon left the hospital with a smile on his face.
The point on the highway where they dropped out of range was further away now, but the sudden absence of the sheer joy Stephen was projecting just made it hurt more.
***
The next morning Jon arrived at the hospital balancing an extra large take out bag with a double order of Bacon and a Starbuck’s container. He turned into Stephen’s room to be met with an empty bed.
Setting the bag and lattes down on the table next to the armchair, he turned to signal a nurse from the hall.
Focusing for a second he was reassured of Stephen’s presence somewhere near. Quiet though. He was probably asleep.
“Nurse? Where’s Mr. Colbert? Did he have a final x-ray before check-out or something?”
“I’m not sure…Let me check.”
Jon waited impatiently as she checked the logs behind the nurse’s station, sipping at his latte.
“Ah. Here it is. Mr. Colbert was checked out an hour ago.”
Focusing hard in order to not choke on his drink, Jon set it down on the counter.
“What?! He wasn’t due to be released until this afternoon! Who checked him out?!”
Referring to the chart once more, the young girl nodded.
“Mr. Colbert was checked out at 5:45 this morning by a Mr. Jonathan Stewart and Associates.”
At that moment Stephen dropped out of range.
***
Please review! Chapter Five and the Epilogue will be up the moment I get them back from my Beta.