Part Two!
Here ya go, more of ma storay. :)
Title: "Standing Up (Part Two)"
Pairing: C/Z and...??
Rating: PG-13, more for language than anything else
Synopsis: Casey's back home, and what does he find...?
Casey didn’t remember much after he left school. He had only one purpose: get… home. The only thoughts running through his head were of Zeke, Zeke’s car, and his parents finding out about this and getting raving pissed. Each idea mixed into the other; he was picturing running into the hospital at top speed, trying to find Zeke’s room, and running into his parents on his way. Not that his parents would be there, seeing as even if they’d heard of Zeke getting hurt, they wouldn’t listen to the whole story. It would just be assumed that Zeke was driving ninety-miles-per-hour and crashing into a telephone pole. To be honest, Casey pictured this sort of scenario himself when he read the word ‘accident’, but not with the disdain his parents would feel towards it.
They would roll their eyes and not even tell him. He would have come home for spring break and probably not even find out then, unless Stan or Stokely dropped in on him. Zeke most DEFINITELY wouldn’t make any communication with ANYONE over this. He was the type to lock himself away and pretend no one existed but him; Casey honestly feared for the nurses caring for him, if there were any left an hour after Zeke was admitted.
After getting on the bus and finding a seat, he looked out onto the platforms at the people bustling in streetlight lit shadows, all blurred forms moving about. Most had large bags and suitcases, piling them into buses and their undercarriages. Casey knew this was foolish; he was leaving with next to nothing, mostly just clothes, his camera and some books. He even had a presentation of his work he was lined up for two days from now, probably when he’d arrive back home. Looking around inside of the bus, only one other person was seated. He put his head back; why was he doing this, why…
Simple. Zeke had no one; who knew where his mother or father was to call, who would take care of him? Even with friends in town, the last Casey knew Stan was doing very well in the community college he went to. Delilah… well, was Delilah. Casey had to smile, as bitter as it felt. He wondered if Delilah knew, and what she’d do if she did. He put an end to these thoughts however; sometimes things felt too fresh when you thought about them, even after long periods of time.
So here was Casey Connor, dean’s list student of SMFA Boston, having numerous projects in photography to be done over the next few weeks… and it wasn’t quite registering. Stan was busy but right in town, and Zeke had enough money to hire nurses to help him about the house. But Casey was going anyways, wasn’t he?
“Whatcha reading?”
Casey looked up from his book, finding a young girl about his age sitting across from him in the seats next to him. “Oh… ‘The Camera’, Ansel Adams,”
“Oh, cool,” she said, taking a sip from a water bottle. “You’re a student in Boston?”
“Yea, you?”
“Yup; I’m at BU,” she said. “What about you?”
“School of the Museum of Fine Arts,” he answered. He noticed how she was looking at him; her dark eyes were very sharp for someone who’d been on a bus for two hours now, traveling to a stop in Connecticut. They seemed magnified by her dark rimmed glasses and darker hair framing her face. She was pretty, but not something Casey really wanted to pay attention to right now.
“Ah, an art student!!” she exclaimed cheerfully. “You’re one of those interesting artsy types, huh? Photography student, I take it?”
“Yea,”
“Name’s Becky,” she said, extending her hand. He blinked a moment then took it, shaking gently.
“Casey,”
She sat back now, sipping from her bottle again. “Where ya headed?”
“Ohio,” he answered; he realized there was no use in trying to concentrate on his book, and let it sit idly in his lap.
“Wow, got a good sized travel ahead of you,” she said. “What’s there?”
He had to smile a bit. “Home… and a friend,” he told her. “Well, it’s the friend I’m going for mostly. He’s in a bit of a bind.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet,”
“Where’re you headed?” he asked. She shrugged.
“Dunno, really,” she replied. Casey frowned a moment.
“Dunno? But… you said you were a student at the University, are you just… taking off?”
Becky rolled her eyes, relaxing even more into her seat. “When your father wants you to go to some ridiculous ‘alma mater’ of his and you don’t want to… sometimes it’s best to run when you get the chance,”
Damn; this girl was just taking off. Casey was slightly more interested in her now, wondering what her back story was. “Where’d you come from, originally?”
“New Haven, Connecticut; Mom pushed for Yale, that was her big deal. My SATs weren’t good enough for THAT though, so Dad shoved me to Mass,” she explained. “I kinda wanted UMass. BIG party place,”
Casey rapidly lost interest now; great. Another ‘party animal’ willing to waste her education for the sake of keggers and frat boys. “I see,” he stated, nodding to try and show SOME sort of interest. She chuckled lightly.
“A lot of my friends went there. They have a good psychology department, which is what I’m going for. But… ‘Daddy’ wasn’t that impressed, of course,” she sadly explained.
“Yea… my dad probably wished I was out on some football scholarship myself. He was big into sports in college,” Casey said. “Kinda couldn’t accept the fact that his son was always hiding behind some camera, small enough to disappear behind it,”
“Aw, it ain’t so bad. There are too many football jerks out there anyways,”
All right… so maybe she wasn’t THAT bad. He smiled as she eased back in her seat, opening another water bottle. It grew quiet between them for a moment, Casey turning back to his book.
“You’re pretty cute, y’now that?”
Casey knew he was blushing. “Um… thanks,”
When his eyes opened, Casey could scarcely believe the bus was pulling into his final stop in Ohio. After making four transfers, one in Hartford, CT, the next in White Plains, NY, then some other small town in Pennsylvania, his whole body felt like it was made of gelatin. He widened his eyes and sat up, feeling drowsy and light headed. The bus was still pretty empty; not a lot of people going to Ohio in February, he surmised.
After they stopped and he got off, he walked into the terminal. Who to call? DEFINITELY not his parents. They’d find out, sure enough, but he didn’t feel like having them know now. Stan maybe? Yea, he settled on that option. Finding a phone he dumped the change into it and dialed. He waited for what seemed to be too short a time until the message machine picked up, making Casey groan. He hung up and looked around, sighing deeply; looked like it was best to call a cab.
“That’ll be $7.20,”
Casey nodded, getting out his wallet. He was glad to have forced Steve to give him the money he’d been owed, seeing as he still had that plus a bit more. He shoved the cabbie a ten and got out, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
He had to gain his bearings for a moment; looking at the entrance to the hospital, he had no idea what he was going to find there. Zeke could be passed out or in some sort of horrible traction, making Casey cringe. Putting Zeke in some stranglehold was never a great idea.
He finally took a deep breath and walked to the doors, getting inside. A rush of warm air hit him, welcoming him from the cold of the outside. It was MUCH colder here than in Boston; Massachusetts could get pretty chilly, but not like this. The Midwest was pretty damned cruel in winter. He’d relished the idea of heading back to school once Christmas break was over. As the chill in his bones began defrosting, he got to the front desk. “Excuse me?” he said to the woman sitting there. She turned her head from a conversation she was sharing with an orderly nearby and smiled.
“Can I help you?”
“Yea… I’m looking for a Zeke- an Ezekiel Tyler,” he said. He noticed the rising eyebrow on her face as she typed into her computer.
“Ah, him,” she sighed out. “Yes, we’ve heard some stories all the way down here on the first floor of THAT one, let me tell you,”
Casey blinked; he shouldn’t have been too shocked. “Oh?”
“Mmhmm; he’s a bit of a fireball, that one,” she said, sitting back. “Third floor, room #344,”
“Thanks,” Casey replied softly, heading for the elevators. He waited alongside two others, a doctor and a woman carrying a huge bouquet of flowers. Casey wondered if he should have gotten anything for Zeke as a ‘get well’ present, soon realizing how stupid an idea that was. He could just imagine Zeke laughing at him riotously if he walked in with some flowery gift.
The doors opened and they all stepped in, Casey last of all. The low hum of the elevator’s motor was nearly hypnotizing; they all stood quiet, barely breathing. It was funny how elevators did that to people; you’d all just refuse eye contact, like everyone was a soldier from an opposing army, not daring to make any wrong moves. Casey sank against the wall and waited, thanking God it went quick. The third floor was the first stop, he and the doctor both stepping out.
Casey read the signs in front of him; okay, it seemed the rooms 330-350 were to his left. He groaned, suddenly realizing what he was doing. There had been a huge bus ride to contemplate these events, and to prepare himself for whatever he was about to see. Would Zeke be conscious, or covered in bandages from head to toe? He wasn’t so sure; all he knew was that he had two broken legs, which were bad enough.
He was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize the rooms had suddenly gone from #333 to #347. Darting his head to the right, he saw the even numbers and swallowed. Walk, walk, slowly down until he was standing in front of #344. Taking a huge, deep breath he gave the opened door a small knock.
“Yea? Who is it?”
Casey frowned. That wasn’t Zeke; looking in he saw an older man sitting upright in his bed. “Oh… um…”
“Is it for me, Todd?”
“I think so; some lanky kid,” Todd gruffly stated to the other voice, which was most definitely Zeke’s. Casey tried to smile as he passed through the room, going beyond the other half which was curtained. And there he was; Zeke in all his injured glory, one leg up in a sling hung from the ceiling.
“Hey,” Casey softly greeted him. Zeke gave him a confused look, blinking a few times before replying.
“Uh… hey,” he finally replied. “The hell are you doing here?”
God, he really didn’t look too banged up. Casey was grateful that he still looked like Zeke, not some robotic image of cords, wires and needles. “I talked with Stokely; she said that you’d gotten into an accident,”
Zeke put his head back on the pillows, staring at Casey as if studying him. “Well yea.” He said blankly. “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
The way he spoke made it sound like Casey’s school was right next door, making him smile a bit as he shrugged. “Yea, well… I decided to… drop by,”
“Long hell of a drop, if you ask me,” Zeke said; his eyebrows rose. “Massachusetts to Ohio; Casey, Jesus…”
“So you’re not glad to see me? Geez- maybe I SHOULD have gotten you some flowers or something,” Casey said, trying his best to lighten the mood. Zeke was sure acting like he wasn’t wanted. He was glad to see a small smile flicker onto Zeke’s lips as Zeke rolled his eyes.
“Sit the fuck down, you look like you’re gonna fall over,” Zeke told him. Casey nodded and sat in the chair next to Zeke’s window, sighing.
“You look like hell yourself, man,” Casey said sadly. Zeke ‘pffted’.
“Ain’t nothing like my baby,”
“Baby?”
“Car, man, car,”
“Oh, right… sorry,” Casey said, huffing out a breath. As tempting as it was to be humored by this retort of Zeke’s, he KNEW how much that car had meant to him. “Is it… salvageable?”
“When the Pope turns to Judaism, maybe. Until then, I’m laid up like some idiot with no ride,” Zeke bitterly explained.
“I’m sorry man… but damn, at least you’re alive,”
“Yea, at ‘least’,” Zeke scoffed out, wincing as he tried moving up a bit. Casey moved to help, but Zeke waved it off. “Don’t worry, I’m fine,”
“Okay,” Casey softly said, sitting back. He watched as Zeke relaxed, turning his head to face Casey.
“So you gave that much of a shit about me to come out all this way, huh?” he said, a small smile on his lips. Casey smiled back.
“Of course,” he said. “Like I’d let Zeke Tyler kill off every nurse that comes within five feet of his bedpan. What HAVE you been doing to these poor people, anyways? The woman at the front desk seemed very… aware of you,”
“Hah… nothing that I haven’t done the last twenty years of my life, Case,” he said, cocking an eyebrow. “Just keepin’ ‘em on their toes is all.”
“I’ll bet. So… I mean, what the hell happened anyways? Stokely said you were at a stop light when it happened,”
“Oh yea, a stop light. Y’now I wasn’t even going to stop for it, it was yellow when I was coming to it, but my cigarette fell in my lap. Had to then,” Zeke said; his voice was sounding tense as he went on. “So there I am, waiting for this fucking thing to just turn, when the next thing I know I’m in ‘Chez Injury’.”
“Who was it?”
“I dunno. Some kid barely out of fucking diapers, thinking he had some rights to the road with a juniors’ license,” Zeke said. “Would you believe… a fucking minivan, Case? A minivan killed the fuck out of my baby. Not a tree, me going 90 mph down a 35 road. A fucking sixteen-year-old pimpled dickwad in his parent’s soccer mom vee-hick. Fucking ironies of life.”
“Yea, I’ll admit it; when she first said ‘accident’ I thought of the tree… telephone pole… class of first graders, whatever, scenario myself,”
Zeke now laughed, shaking his head. “Yup. Irony, hit me like a ton of bricks it did,” he said. Casey took a deep breath, feeling a very serious mood coming on.
“I’m glad you’re all right though,”
“If you call this all right,”
“No, Zeke- I’m just fucking glad you’re not DEAD,” Casey scoffed out. Zeke bit his lip.
“Yea, hurrah, hurrah,”
“Stop it, I mean that,” Casey said. He tried to smile again. “Good thing you wore that fucking seat belt, huh?” he said; this made Zeke’s smile return.
“Yea, fuck off,”
“You’re just sore that you listened to me, never mind that it saved your pathetic ass,” Casey jibed, winking at him. “I saved your life, you owe me,”
“I owe you shit,” Zeke said, his smile growing. “Well, maybe I’ll save you an applesauce tomorrow from my disgusting excuse for a lunch. You look like you need it- have you eaten in the last month?”
Casey glanced down to himself, realizing how thin he HAD in fact gotten. “Hey, this hospital is probably gourmet compared to the commissary at school,” he told Zeke. “They’ve got a killer salad bar though, so call me ‘Casey the Rabbit’,”
“Vegetarian?”
“Cube steak night ain’t so bad,”
“Ah, FORCED vegetarian then,” Zeke said. Before Casey had a chance to speak, a nurse came in; he couldn’t help but notice how apprehensive she looked just walking to Zeke’s bedside.
“Hello, Mr. Tyler; I um, just came by to let you know that we’re going to be wheeling you down for X-rays in about ten minutes,” she said; it caused Zeke to groan loudly.
“My friend comes ALL the way from fuckin’ Massachusetts, and I need x-rays,” he grumbled. She cocked an eyebrow at him.
“No ifs ands or buts, Zeke,” she stated gruffly. “You’d best be good; we’re half considering building a wing just to put you in solitary confinement,”
“Yep, whatever…” Zeke said as she left. He turned back to Casey, rolling his eyes. “See how they treat me here? I get a broken femur, a fractured tibia, two cracked ribs and they’re going to put me in solitary,”
“Be good Zeke, be good,” Casey said, not being able to help the teasing nature of his voice. “I’ll take off, visiting hours are just about up anyways,”
“Yea, yea… where you stayin’?” Zeke asked. Casey shrugged.
“I dunno… maybe I’ll… um…”
“Your parents have NO idea you’re here, do they Case?” Zeke asked, his smile coming back.
“Shut up,”
“Well look…” Zeke said, sitting up slightly. “Get me my bag over there,”
Casey turned to where he pointed, finding a small canvas bag next to the window. He brought it to Zeke, watching as he shuffled inside of it. After a moment’s search, Zeke brought out a set of keys. “Stay at my place then.”
“Zeke, c’mon-“
“No. It’s the least I can do for someone dragging themselves halfway across the fucking country just to sign my cast,” Zeke told him, pushing the keys his way. Casey reluctantly took them, sighing deeply.
“All right then,”
“Good… I’ll call Gilda, let her know you’re coming,”
Every movement in Casey’s body stilled. “Gilda? Who’s… that?”
“Oh yea, she’s uh… sorta a ‘live-in-girlfriend’ so to speak,” Zeke said. Casey felt his jaw shuddering, affected so strangely by this.
“Oh… well I don’t want to trouble… anyone,”
“Please, Case. No trouble. Just stay there.”
Casey nodded. “Um… all right,” he said. “I guess… I’ll come see you tomorrow,”
“Good.” Zeke said, waving at him. “Thanks… for coming. Even if I think it’s a total dumbass move on your part,”
Casey did his best to smile as he waved back, leaving the room now. After walking in a daze back to the elevator, he realized to himself that he didn’t know which was worse; Zeke’s injuries, or… this… Gilda.