Absolution - [one]
Title: Absolution - [one]
Author: minus_four
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gabe/William
POV: 3rd, present
Summary: When Gabe had made his stand on stage, looking to get those guys out of their show, he'd figured there was a chance he'd have to watch his back afterwards and he hadn't given a shit. What Gabe hadn't thought about, though, was the possibility of them going after someone else, instead.
Disclaimer: This didn't happen. It's fic; short for 'fictional'. Kay?
Warnings: Implied violence and homophobic attitudes/behaviour.
Author's notes: I caved. I am weak as hell. But never mind. This is an alternate take sort of thing on the events discussed in this post.
It’s been at least an hour since Gabe’s little speech of sorts but he’s still a bit tense, the thoughts and emotions that had prompted his reaction still running through his head, the anger still humming under his skin. He’d tried not to let it affect the rest of the show too much, but even now Gabe can’t shake it off. Thinking about trying to find William and check on him, Gabe is so preoccupied as he walks away from their bus that he practically ploughs right into some guy.
Grabbing the guy’s arm to keep him from stumbling too much and make sure he stays upright, Gabe apologises and asks if he’s alright, despite his mind being too taken up with other things and people to actually care just now. When the guy replies, though, his words immediately catch more of Gabe’s attention.
“Yeah, yeah. No problem, dude. Just. Man, I hate when a decent show gets fucked up like that.” Gabe frowns a bit, eyes questioning when he looks at the grip - he’s not one of theirs or TAI’s so Gabe figures he must be with one of the other bands - and the guy looks back at him, almost expectantly, maybe, and Gabe realises he must have seen their show or at least heard about it.
“Look, those guys had it coming. I wasn’t gonna stand there and let them say shit at my show. Hell, if I’d seen them mouth off like that in the street I’d have bitched them out.” Gabe opens his mouth to continue, but before he can say anything else the other guy cuts him off.
“No. No, dude. I didn’t mean you. I meant - oh, shit. You don’t know. Shit…”
“Go take a dump and miss everything,” Gabe laughs, the sound trying and failing to negate the sudden uncomfortable feeling which has begun to creep into the base of his stomach. “Know what? Did someone start shit up again, or..?”
“Could say that.” The grip brings one hand up to run his palm across his face. He suddenly looks almost panicked, in a deer-in-headlights kind of way. “That dude got jumped backstage. Bad, looks like. It’s so messed up, man.”
Gabe swallows hard. “‘That dude’? The guy who had the fucking sign?” Right? A desperate voice inside Gabe’s head pipes up, because as much as Gabe doesn’t really condone violence outside the throwing of a few cream pies, if anyone deserved it… Hell, Gabe had been pretty damn close to jumping the guy himself.
“No, man. Like, the singer. The one in the band before you guys came on… Beckett,” he adds, nodding.
“No,” the syllable bursts from Gabe’s mouth, from his entire being, fired by instinct and that knowledge in his gut because it couldn’t. It couldn’t… but then Gabe still had to ask, because if… “Where?” Gabe chokes out, almost off and running before the guy had finished explaining (round the corner somewhere, some space between stages out towards the main entrance).
Gabe pushes past crew and band members alike in the hallway-like spaces between parked tour buses, mumbling mindless ‘sorry’s left and right; unable to think about anything but his current focus and the fear which had wrapped itself around his throat, making it hard to breathe, let alone form coherent thought.
It isn’t that hard to find. The second Gabe gets out into the open properly and starts heading in the right general direction there’s this crowd of people that starts and then stretches forward through the open area toward a couple of the smaller stages. Gabe runs forward, the soles of his sneakers slipping slightly on downtrodden grass, until the mess of people gathers and stops around the entrance to the area; something not quite approaching ‘backstage’ between the stages. The opening is barricaded by security but no one’s pushing or jostling. It’s bizarre to Gabe, to see a crowd so still and quiet after all the shows they’ve done, all the other shows he’s seen today.
It’s scary as fuck, to tell the truth.
Without skipping a beat Gabe keeps going, edging his way through the mixture of fans (Gabe doesn’t let himself acknowledge the number of them who are crying, what the fuck) and crew, plus other kids who are probably just curious. After a minute or so a path begins to open up in front of him as more people turn around recognise who it is trying to get through. On reaching the barrier of security guys Gabe only locks eyes with one of them for a split second before he steps aside and Gabe almost falls through the gap. Whether it’s because he was expecting a fight, or that he’s losing it a little by this point, Gabe can’t remember how to care.
Reality suddenly sways around Gabe as his eyes pass over the people stood or crouched in a rough circle a few feet ahead; the rest of his band, then Bill’s… minus one.
“Fuck, no,” Gabe spits out, several of the guys turning to look at him in an instant. They spread out slightly and Gabe can just about see Sisky knelt down on the temporary wooden flooring, and just in front of him, lying half on the wooden flooring and half on the grassy ground… “Bill.” It comes out strangled, barely sounding like what it is, and before he can stop himself Gabe’s brain wonders if that might be appropriate.
It’s Butcher who approaches him first. “The EMTs are coming. Few minutes, they said,” he says quietly, and Gabe recognises the same edge of bitterness and pain he’s feeling himself in Butcher’s voice. Butcher reaches forward, placing his hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “It’s pretty bad,” he tells Gabe, voice low like a warning, like Gabe doesn’t already have all the worst case scenarios playing in his head on repeat.
“I need - Let me… I need to -” Full sentences evade Gabe effortlessly, his brain barely functioning as he walks forward, motions robotic as his legs work automatically. One step forward. Two, three… Then ‘automatic’ fails Gabe spectacularly as his ability to take a breath in and out seems to die somewhere in him. “Bilvy…” Gabe falls to his knees opposite Sisky, jerking his shoulder away from Alex’s touch when the bassist reaches out to him; whether to comfort him or keep him from reaching for William, Gabe doesn’t know. “Don’t,” Gabe bites out sharply. He knows it isn’t fair, but when he looks at William - William’s body? his mind questions, panicking - ‘fair’ hardly comes into it.
He isn’t moving, and his eyes are closed like he’s sleeping but he isn’t. Gabe can tell because of the blood.
…There’s blood.
Why is there blood? The question screams in Gabe’s head, his own heartbeat pounding in his ears as his eyes pass over William, back and forth, frantically searching for where the blood is coming from. Gabe leans forward, putting together the trail of blood, the way it’s on his t shirt but - aside from a tear at the v-neck collar - the shirt itself is in tact. The red, dried to brown in places, has dripped from William’s nose but it’s trailing down his cheek, too, seeping from somewhere in his now-matted hair. Gabe recognises what Sisky is holding in his hand as Victoria’s sweater, now bloodstained.
For the first time since Gabe had gotten there, Sisky lifts his head to look at him instead of William. “I started to… I didn’t know. But on the phone they said not to… something about pressure, the brain… I don’t know,” he mutters, shaking his head as he drops his head back down to look at William. Sisky’s hand hovers over William’s chest, his fingers shaking. “We’re not supposed to touch him.” Gabe’s focus switches slightly to William’s chest, and he notices that he can see William’s chest rising and falling still. He’s breathing, and without consciously acting Gabe finds his own breaths matching the small movements. Gabe’s thoughts interlock with the rhythms, too.
Breathe in; come on, Bill. Breathe out; it’ll be okay. You gotta be okay.
“Did anyone see what the fuck happened?” Gabe asks quietly, glancing around for the others when Sisky doesn’t look up. Carden doesn’t look at him either, just keeps pacing up and down where he is, glancing up every now and then to check for the EMTs. Victoria’s eyes are focused similarly, looking past the security, past the crowd and into the distance. Nate’s stood next to her but he turns around, shaking his head along with the rest of the guys.
Only Butcher speaks. “Don’t need three guesses to figure out who did it, though.”
“I’ll kill them,” Gabe is saying the words before he realises it, and once they’re out in air, cutting into the quiet that surrounds them, Gabe honestly can’t decide whether he regrets them or not. All he knows is that he’s getting William’s blood on his jeans, and suddenly morals and shit become questionable.
“Gabe…” It’s Chiz, speaking quietly from where he’s stood a couple of feet away. “We need you here, mate. Not running off on some vendetta.”
Glancing down at William for a second or two, watching him breathe in and out once, Gabe then pushes himself up from his knees, getting up to stand as he turns around, looking at everyone in turn. “I need to do something!” he yells, not giving a shit whether anyone else outside their group hears or how close to sounds to actually losing it.
“You’ve done enough!” Carden spins on his heel, striding back toward Gabe and pointing at him, as if there could be any doubt who he’s speaking to. His angry gaze is focused right on Gabe.
“What?” The volume of Gabe’s voice drops in an instant as Mike’s words and their implication hits him. Hard.
“You heard me,” Carden bites back right away. “If you hadn’t kept on, and on at those guys -”
“Are you shitting me?” Gabe looks around, searching for agreement or lack thereof from the others; Alex and Ryland shaking their heads, Butcher doing likewise, but the rest of the guys not really reacting at all. Gabe isn’t sure what that means. He isn’t sure what’s happening at all. Gabe finds himself hoping that maybe he fell offstage and hit his head, and all of this is some vivid hallucination.
Gabe closes his eyes for a second, but he doesn’t wake up.
“They’re here!” At the sound of Victoria’s voice Gabe’s eyes snap open again, just in time to see the paramedics approaching, parting the crowd in their wake and rushing past the line of security with what Gabe assumes is far too practised ease.
Gabe steps back automatically to make way for them, Carden’s words pushed to the back of his mind for the time being as he watches the two men walk forward quickly, putting the plastic stretcher type thing on the ground and kneeling down beside William, pulling equipment out of the bag one of them has and firing questions at Sisky.
Looking back the other way, past the crowd, Gabe can make out the flashing lights of the waiting ambulance. None of it feels real. It’s almost out of body, the way Gabe feels like this must be someone else’s life, like it can’t be William lying there on the ground, practically lifeless. It feels like… like a movie, Gabe thinks, hating himself slightly for it as the thought plays through in his head.
But no. Maybe if it was a movie, or some fucking fairytale, the curse could be lifted by a kiss or some shit. Happily ever after.
Instead, Gabe is left wondering if it could have been a kiss that condemned William to this in the first place.
---
The hospital feels cold, but Gabe isn’t sure whether that’s just him. There must be rules about keeping hospitals kinda warm, right? On account of all the people who are sick, or… Gabe swallows hard when his stomach suddenly clenches with nausea, and not for the first time since they’d arrived.
The EMTs had let Sisky ride in the ambulance with William, but the rest of them were left to follow along in a couple of cabs. It hadn’t made much difference, though, apparently. When they’d arrived at the emergency room Sisky had been there waiting, slumped down in one of the plastic chairs lining the walls. All he’d been able to tell them was that William had still been breathing when the hospital staff had wheeled him through the double doors that Gabe guessed lead to the treatment rooms or whatever.
That had been a good hour ago, by now, and to say Gabe has started to go a little crazy is an understatement. It would help, he thinks, as he glances at the doors again, if they had anything more to go on than “He’s as stable as can be expected. We’re doing everything we can.”, which was what the nurse told Butcher a while ago, now.
Gabe doesn’t want robotic answers given to every other nerve-wracked person in here, but at the same time he isn’t sure he wants the truth, either. Gabe wants some doctor to come up to them, laughing, and tell them William had a bit of a bump on the head but mostly he just inexplicably spilled ketchup over himself which everyone mistook for blood. He wants someone to come and tell them that William is sat up on some gurney, complaining that they won’t let him have coffee and emo-ing about the state of his hair.
What Gabe wants most of all is for William to walk out of the double doors himself. Gabe can see it happen in his head; Sisky jumping up and proclaiming the healing powers of Santi, everyone hugging each other, laughing. Gabe can see it in his head so perfectly, but it doesn’t happen. He waits, and everything just stays the same. All of them just sitting there in silence; too scared to speculate.
There’s one exception, actually. Mike is stood, leaning against the wall in the gap between chairs. He hasn’t moved since they arrived and he hasn’t said one word. The rest of them had attempted small talk every now and then, wondering out loud about how William was doing, asking each other whether anyone wanted snacks (no one did). Mike has just been staring at the floor, occasionally glancing at the doors William had been wheeled through earlier.
Gabe can’t blame him for not talking to anyone. He’s not exactly chatty himself, and whatever any of them are saying it’s what they’re not saying which is really weighing on the atmosphere around them. The possibility that William might not be alright, and none of them have any idea how likely that is.
Trying to distract himself, Gabe looks around the room, taking in the other people sitting, waiting. There’s a guy with his hand wrapped in a bloody t shirt - Gabe suspects a DIY disaster of some sort. But he’s smiling and talking to the woman who’s sitting with him, so Gabe thinks he’ll be okay. There’s a teenage girl - or maybe she’s old enough to be in college, Gabe has no real clue - who looks really sick, wrapped in a blanket and shivering. She’s also alone. Gabe frowns, hoping she gets seen quickly. He glances to the nurses’ station. They’re all so fucking busy, rushing around and grabbing charts, and selfishly Gabe suddenly can’t think about anyone else, and just hopes William is being taken care of properly.
Taking a deep breath, Gabe sighs in out again as he stretches in his seat, reaching out with long limbs and then pushing himself to sit up straight.
“So,” he says, prompting the other guys to look at him. “How long do we have to leave it before we ask how he is again?”
It’s Ryland that answers, sat opposite him, leant forward on his knees. “I don’t really know what the etiquette is for this kind of thing.” He offers Gabe a small smile, glancing at Sisky as well. Sisky isn’t looking at anyone right now. He’s almost curling in on himself. They’ve all been sort of keeping an eye on him, Gabe’s noticed. Victoria’s arm is resting lightly around Sisky’s shoulders; Butcher is sat next to him, close enough so their knees touch, and Chiz is sat opposite. They’re all around him, just letting him be aware that they’re there without pushing it. The family, being there for each other, and underneath the sickening worry and the anger that’s still simmering within him, Gabe feels a distinct note of pride - and love - striking somewhere in his chest.
“I think if there was anything else to know, we’d know. You know?” Chiz says quietly, getting various murmurs of acknowledgement from the group. “Maybe we just… wait, I guess,” he trails off, voice fading as he sits back in his chair, adjusting his hat.
Gabe jumps slightly when Sisky stands up suddenly, voice tight and just a shade too loud when he says; “I can’t just wait.” A hush falls over the waiting area as most people stop their conversations to look over at them. “Sorry,” Sisky mutters to no one in particular, his head dropping forward far enough for his chin to rest on his chest, his eyes closed. Silently, Butcher stands up next to him, putting an arm around Sisky who turns into the contact, letting Butcher hug him tight.
Across from Gabe, Nate huffs out a sigh. “Maybe we could…” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Everyone’s attention is immediately taken and help by the arrival of a nurse. Gabe stands up, steps forward, and right away steps back again. He’s not sure why, but that kind of fades into the background when the nurse starts speaking.
She addresses Sisky. “Adam? Your friend is stable, enough so that he’s been moved to a side ward, but we’re keeping him under strict observation until… Well. Mr. Beckett is yet to regain consciousness, but you can come and see him if you’d like.” She lowers her voice slightly. “The policy is family only, but since Mr. Beckett’s parents won’t be here for some time and familiar voices often help bring a person back into consciousness, we can make an exception here.”
Sisky nods, turning around to look at Butcher, then Chiz, exchanging a look with each of them. They nod, and Sisky turns back to the nurse. “Let’s go.” She turns, walking back towards the mysterious double doors, and as Sisky steps forward he just says, quietly; “Mike,” and Mike falls into step with him, following the nurse away.
Gabe practically falls back into the plastic chair behind him, sitting down with a soft thump, the metal chair leg squeaking against the floor. “Well, this sucks.”
“At least he’s stable,” Alex says quietly, reaching forward to put his hand on Gabe’s knee for a second.
Gabe gives him a half hearted smile. “At least,” he echoes, adjusting his seat in a fruitless attempt to get comfortable. Then Gabe fixes his eyes on the double doors, anxiously waiting for Sisky and Mike to return with any more information.
They wait.
---
It’s only ten minutes but the time drags painfully. Gabe fidgets with his phone in between glances to those doors. They’d already called Pete on the way to the hospital earlier, but Gabe finds himself looking at Pete’s number on his contact list, fingers itching to call him again. It’s stupid, but Pete always seems to know what to do, so if there was anything that could possibly be done about this then Pete would know. Or at least that’s how it feels to Gabe. Or maybe he just wants to hear Pete’s voice coming out of the speaker phone of one of their cells again, telling them it’ll be okay.
“Stupid,” Gabe breathes out, barely audible but apparently audible enough. Ryland nudges Gabe with his foot, raising an eyebrow at him when Gabe looks up at him. He shakes his head, and Ryland frowns a little, but he doesn’t push Gabe to say anything.
Everyone shifts, almost in unison, looking toward Sisky and Mike making their way back to the rest of them. Gabe resists the urge to stand up again, instead just settling for sitting up a bit, tightening his fingers around his cell phone as he switches his gaze from Sisky, to Mike, then back again, trying to gauge their expressions. It doesn’t look great, and Gabe’s suspicions are confirmed when Sisky addresses the group.
“He’s not awake yet,” Sisky starts. “The doctor was telling us about the, uh. Damage. They said he got hit with something blunt… there’s swelling, and it presses against the brain, and they don’t know…” He falters, and Mike lifts a hand to rest on Sisky’s shoulder.
“They said we’ll know more when he wakes up,” Mike says firmly. “Which… could be a while.” His voice becomes a little cautious, maybe apologetic. “I don’t know if you guys wanna go back…” Mike is talking to everyone, but it’s pretty obvious his latter words would be aimed more toward the Cobras.
And Gabe. Maybe especially him, Gabe thinks, remembering what Mike had said to him back when they’d been waiting for the ambulance to arrive.
Taking the hint, Victoria, Ryland, Alex and Nate stand up, putting on jackets and slipping cell phones back into pockets. Chiz and Butcher stand up too, the two of them exchanging hugs with the Cobras, along with Sisky and Mike. Out of their group Gabe is the only one left sitting.
Once the hugs have finished everyone’s eyes gravitate towards Gabe, looking at him expectantly; waiting.
“I kind of… want to stay here, for a while,” Gabe says, knowing it must have come out just as awkwardly as it felt. He has no reason to stay, really. William’s band is one thing; family just as the Cobras are to Gabe, and besides that William’s parents and sister will probably arrive soon enough. It’s not as though Sisky and the others won’t keep them all informed. But still… Gabe can’t help but want to be here. Be… closer.
“No,” Mike bites out.
At the exact same time, Sisky says, “Sure, man.”
The group is silent for eleven seconds. Gabe counts.
He’s just about to backtrack - after all, the last thing the guys need is any more stress - when Mike speaks again. “’Til Bill’s family gets here, then. Whatever.” He walks off in the general direction of the vending machines down the corridor, and Chiz follows a couple of steps behind. Gabe feels guilty, suddenly, but he isn’t quite sure why.
Gabe gets up, now the assumption won’t be that it’s to leave, and he hugs each of his band, the action accompanied by some variation of “Keep us posted, yeah?” or “We’re here if you need us,” etc. Gabe nods, even smiles once, and then they’re gone.
Watching them walk out, Gabe is then left standing there with Sisky and Butcher. His phone buzzes in his pocket and Gabe fishes it out, looking down at the screen to find a message from Alex flashing there. Gabe frowns as he opens it, reading the words; remember we’re meant 2 b leaving at 10 tmrw. Gabe puts the phone back in his pocket without replying. He’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it, but for now he’s here.
When Gabe lifts his head again he finds Sisky looking at him, biting his lip.
Before Gabe can ask, what?, Sisky opens his mouth instead. “They said we can, like. All visit him in there. But one or two at a time. You know?”
Gabe automatically glances in the direction of where Mike and Chiz has disappeared, but he can’t see them around. Then he looks at Butcher, who shakes his head. “You go. I’ll see him later.” Butcher puts an arm around Sisky, gently pushing him toward the chairs and encouraging him to sit down before doing likewise. “Tell Bill I say ‘hi’, yeah?” Butcher says softly, giving Gabe an encouraging smile as Sisky settles down, leaning his head on Butcher’s shoulder and closing his eyes.
And Gabe nods, but when he turns on the spot slightly to face the double doors he suddenly has to remind himself how to walk; the basic function of moving one foot in front of the other. The image of William lying on the ground flashes through his mind without real warning, though the memory hasn’t drifted far from the forefront of Gabe’s thoughts since the ambulance had taken William away, and Gabe has to wonder whether the sight that lies beyond those doors will be any better or worse.
Fear claws at Gabe’s chest even as he takes a deep breath and walks forward. He pushes the doors open cautiously, the feeling that he doesn’t belong here, not really, still lurking in the back of his head. Inside the emergency ward there are mostly rows of gurneys, some more permanent looking, more bed-like ones, about a third with curtains pulled around them but all of them occupied by patients. The back of the large room is semi-sectioned off with frosted plastic sheets masquerading as glass walls and a curtained doorway. The sign says Intensive Care and Gabe heads forward, taking long strides until he reaches the partition. Then he hesitates, jumping a little a second later when a nurse suddenly appears, pushing the curtain back and rushing through, stopping short when he sees Gabe.
“Um. William Beckett,” Gabe says to him, and the guy raises an eyebrow before glancing at the clipboard he’s holding. “Another ‘brother’, I assume?” The nurse asks, just a hint of tease to his tone, just letting Gabe know that they’re pushing the ‘family’ rule, and it’s fine. The term hits Gabe hard, though, as his mind flashes back to toasting the completion of Snakes on a Plane over a beer with William, having found him lurking on the balcony away from the party they were supposed to be attending. Gabe had had a couple already, which is why it didn’t matter to him whether it made that much sense for him to ask William; “Brothers?”. And now, in the present, Gabe finds himself echoing William’s answer even though the nurse had left seconds before, distractedly telling Gabe that William was toward the back, on the right. Gabe murmurs to himself; “Forever,” and then he forces himself to push the curtain aside and walks forward.
Even without the directions Gabe would have spotted William the second his eyes scanned the beds in front of him. He’s been changed into one of those stupid hospital gowns that don’t flatter anyone, ever, but despite that William’s frame would stand out, the long body which means he barely fits within the length of the bed.
Gabe approaches, his steps slow and cautious until he reaches the bed William is lying on, and then he stops to just stand. There’s a soft beeping noise in the background, coming from the monitor William is connected to by the plastic peg-like device clipped to his finger, another wire trailing under the gown. Gabe takes a second to fix his eyes on the movement of William’s chest; up and down, up and down. It’s comforting enough that Gabe relaxes slightly as he steps forward, dragging the chair he finds next to William’s bed slightly closer and then sitting down.
Sighing deep in his chest, Gabe lets his eyes travel across William’s body, taking in the plastic brace fastened around William’s left wrist.
“Writing hand. Man, you’re gonna be pissed, Bilvy,” Gabe says quietly. It feels weird, talking to himself, but then Gabe reminds himself that he’s not. He’s talking to William. That’s what he’s here for - who he’s here for. Gabe’s eyes shift upward to William’s head, taking in the bandage taped loosely across his right temple. Gabe stands up slightly to get a better look, sitting back in the chair with a thump when he realises. “Fuck, you really are gonna be pissed.” Gabe guesses that it was necessary to examine the damage to William’s head, but that didn’t change how angry William was going to be when he woke up, because they had totally shaved part of his hair off.
“Oh, Bilvy,” Gabe breathes the words out, reaching forward to rest his hand lightly on William’s forearm, above where the wrist brace ends. He scrubs his other hand across his face, glancing around behind where he’s sitting. Then he reminds himself what he’s doing there. “So,” he says, purposefully louder than he had spoken before, to make sure William would hear him. …If he could hear him. “What do you want to do when you get out of here, huh? You’ll be hungry, probably. We could hit one of those all-you-can eat Mexican places or something, Bill. All of us, big family meal…” Gabe sighs, closing his eyes for a second. It all feels so… fake. Gabe pauses for a second before shifting forward, that bit closer to William. “You gotta wake up, Bilvy… Fuck, why am I saying your name so much? I know it’s you, and you’re still… you. This is just so fucking weird, and wrong - for fuck’s sake.”
Gabe glances away from William’s face, away from his closed eyes and the bruised skin, a cut across the bridge of his nose with a butterfly bandage on it. When he brings his eyes back to William’s face Gabe swallows hard, tracing his index finger in a circle across William’s arm, just below his elbow. “You’re gonna wake up, and you’re gonna be fine - you’re gonna be fucking fine,” Gabe says, pausing when he realises how strained his voice is, how it might be shaking just a little. “And you’re gonna go out there and keep going and those fuckers are going to jail and you’re gonna go and tour and be fucking awesome.” Gabe smiles, bringing his hand down to hook his index finger around William’s. “Hey, maybe I’ll come on tour.” Then Gabe thinks for a second, and the smile drops from his face in an instant. “Maybe it’d be better if I didn’t.” Gabe sighs, Mike’s words ringing in his head; If you hadn’t kept on, and on at those guys…
Gabe moves his hand, leaning over and reaching up to just brush his fingers across William’s hair, barely touching it even though it’s the opposite side to where the worst of the damage was done. Gabe can feel the muscles in his face tighten as the wave of emotion hits him; pain at seeing William lying here, the guilt, the sickening worry and mind numbing fear that William might not… that he might not be okay.
“I was trying to protect you,” Gabe whispers, his face almost scrunching a little as tears start to prick at the corner of his eyes, just that pressure there, threatening to break the dam. “I only wanted to protect you.” Gabe takes a deep, shuddering breath, and closes his eyes tightly for a moment. He balances on the knife-edge for a couple of seconds before finally falling on the side of not breaking down. Gabe opens his eyes again, fixing his gaze on William’s eyelids once more.
Gabe has watched William sleep before. He thinks of covering a passed-out William with a blanket where he lies on the Midtown tourbus’s shitty excuse for a sofa, long legs hanging over the edge. That was one of the first times, and not the last by far.
Often William would fidget in his sleep, Gabe thinks, or maybe dream vividly because there would be tiny movements under his eyelids. They seem stiller, now, and although Gabe tries to think it probably doesn’t matter, he can’t help but wonder.
Shaking his head a little to try and snap himself out of it, Gabe shifts in his seat as well. He feels tired, suddenly. In all honesty he’d like to get on the bed next to William and close his eyes for a while.
Gabe thinks; if he could swap places with William right now, he would.
In the back of his mind the fairytale plays out on the projector screen; the happy ever after ending Gabe has never wished harder for than in this moment. Break the curse with a kiss.
But that’s what started this, started this whole fucking chain of events, Gabe thinks - no, yells at himself in his head. It’s what he’s been thinking since Mike had thrown those words at him more than a couple of hours ago, now. It was the idea that he’d provoked the guys that did this, that sparked the thought in Gabe’s brain. Because it was then that he realised the guys were cunts to begin with, might have planned the attack from the off. Or maybe not, Gabe thinks as he stares at William’s motionless body, his eyes starting to hurt from not blinking. But the reason for fixating on William in the first place… that’s something Gabe had far too easily been able to guess.
Google ‘William Beckett’ and there it is; one picture guaranteed to show up.
And Gabe has never been ashamed of it, not once, and his and William’s… playing around, whatever the fuck it was they actually did, or whatever they’d been to each other for a while, was never some big secret within the FBR family. But now… Now Gabe is left wondering what it could have cost them, cost William… Yeah, if Gabe could change things, maybe he would.
“I don’t know,” Gabe announces to the air, suddenly feeling guilty as fuck for not speaking to William himself. “Sorry, Bill. Everything’s so… big mess, huh?” Gabe laughs a little, imagining William attempting to punch him in the shoulder for that one. “But it’ll be fine. You’ll be fine,” Gabe says firmly, nodding to himself as he reaches out to William’s hand again, slipping his under William’s and wrapping his fingers around them, squeezing as hard as he dares - which is barely at all. “I’ll catch you later.”
Pushing the chair back slightly Gabe stands up, looking down at William for half a minute or so. And he wishes. Gabe wishes so hard that he almost thinks he sees it, the flicker of William’s eyes opening.
But they don’t.
Sighing, Gabe thinks of the others waiting back in the reception area, and after letting himself look at William for just a couple more seconds, Gabe makes himself turn around and walk away.
The soft beep of the monitor fades with every step, but Gabe holds the sound in his thoughts as long as he can, finding some hope in the sound of William’s heartbeat still going strong, still fighting.
When Gabe gets back out there with the others he only pauses long enough to tell them there’s no change. He’s fine but there’s no change, he’s not awake yet. Knowing it is worse when Gabe has to say it out loud and confess it to their hopeful faces.
Gabe excuses himself, muttering the reason for it to The Butcher as he walks away, heading for the exit doors. It’s almost dark outside. Gabe isn’t sure why he wasn’t expecting it. Maybe because it feels as though much more time has passed than actually has. Gabe kind of feels like it’s been days since they got here - not a couple of hours, if that.
Pulling the packet of smokes and lighter from his hoodie pocket, Gabe puts one in his mouth and shoves the packet back in his pocket before he lights up. The feel of the smoke in his lungs, the slight burn in his throat, and the little buzz of a high that follows, bring welcome distraction from the mess of Gabe’s thoughts and emotions. He watches the smoke drift up and dissipate into the night sky; seemingly endless.
Taking another deep drag, Gabe closes his eyes as he blows the smoke out in one long breath of air.
For the first time in a long time, now, Gabe prays.
Author: minus_four
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gabe/William
POV: 3rd, present
Summary: When Gabe had made his stand on stage, looking to get those guys out of their show, he'd figured there was a chance he'd have to watch his back afterwards and he hadn't given a shit. What Gabe hadn't thought about, though, was the possibility of them going after someone else, instead.
Disclaimer: This didn't happen. It's fic; short for 'fictional'. Kay?
Warnings: Implied violence and homophobic attitudes/behaviour.
Author's notes: I caved. I am weak as hell. But never mind. This is an alternate take sort of thing on the events discussed in this post.
It’s been at least an hour since Gabe’s little speech of sorts but he’s still a bit tense, the thoughts and emotions that had prompted his reaction still running through his head, the anger still humming under his skin. He’d tried not to let it affect the rest of the show too much, but even now Gabe can’t shake it off. Thinking about trying to find William and check on him, Gabe is so preoccupied as he walks away from their bus that he practically ploughs right into some guy.
Grabbing the guy’s arm to keep him from stumbling too much and make sure he stays upright, Gabe apologises and asks if he’s alright, despite his mind being too taken up with other things and people to actually care just now. When the guy replies, though, his words immediately catch more of Gabe’s attention.
“Yeah, yeah. No problem, dude. Just. Man, I hate when a decent show gets fucked up like that.” Gabe frowns a bit, eyes questioning when he looks at the grip - he’s not one of theirs or TAI’s so Gabe figures he must be with one of the other bands - and the guy looks back at him, almost expectantly, maybe, and Gabe realises he must have seen their show or at least heard about it.
“Look, those guys had it coming. I wasn’t gonna stand there and let them say shit at my show. Hell, if I’d seen them mouth off like that in the street I’d have bitched them out.” Gabe opens his mouth to continue, but before he can say anything else the other guy cuts him off.
“No. No, dude. I didn’t mean you. I meant - oh, shit. You don’t know. Shit…”
“Go take a dump and miss everything,” Gabe laughs, the sound trying and failing to negate the sudden uncomfortable feeling which has begun to creep into the base of his stomach. “Know what? Did someone start shit up again, or..?”
“Could say that.” The grip brings one hand up to run his palm across his face. He suddenly looks almost panicked, in a deer-in-headlights kind of way. “That dude got jumped backstage. Bad, looks like. It’s so messed up, man.”
Gabe swallows hard. “‘That dude’? The guy who had the fucking sign?” Right? A desperate voice inside Gabe’s head pipes up, because as much as Gabe doesn’t really condone violence outside the throwing of a few cream pies, if anyone deserved it… Hell, Gabe had been pretty damn close to jumping the guy himself.
“No, man. Like, the singer. The one in the band before you guys came on… Beckett,” he adds, nodding.
“No,” the syllable bursts from Gabe’s mouth, from his entire being, fired by instinct and that knowledge in his gut because it couldn’t. It couldn’t… but then Gabe still had to ask, because if… “Where?” Gabe chokes out, almost off and running before the guy had finished explaining (round the corner somewhere, some space between stages out towards the main entrance).
Gabe pushes past crew and band members alike in the hallway-like spaces between parked tour buses, mumbling mindless ‘sorry’s left and right; unable to think about anything but his current focus and the fear which had wrapped itself around his throat, making it hard to breathe, let alone form coherent thought.
It isn’t that hard to find. The second Gabe gets out into the open properly and starts heading in the right general direction there’s this crowd of people that starts and then stretches forward through the open area toward a couple of the smaller stages. Gabe runs forward, the soles of his sneakers slipping slightly on downtrodden grass, until the mess of people gathers and stops around the entrance to the area; something not quite approaching ‘backstage’ between the stages. The opening is barricaded by security but no one’s pushing or jostling. It’s bizarre to Gabe, to see a crowd so still and quiet after all the shows they’ve done, all the other shows he’s seen today.
It’s scary as fuck, to tell the truth.
Without skipping a beat Gabe keeps going, edging his way through the mixture of fans (Gabe doesn’t let himself acknowledge the number of them who are crying, what the fuck) and crew, plus other kids who are probably just curious. After a minute or so a path begins to open up in front of him as more people turn around recognise who it is trying to get through. On reaching the barrier of security guys Gabe only locks eyes with one of them for a split second before he steps aside and Gabe almost falls through the gap. Whether it’s because he was expecting a fight, or that he’s losing it a little by this point, Gabe can’t remember how to care.
Reality suddenly sways around Gabe as his eyes pass over the people stood or crouched in a rough circle a few feet ahead; the rest of his band, then Bill’s… minus one.
“Fuck, no,” Gabe spits out, several of the guys turning to look at him in an instant. They spread out slightly and Gabe can just about see Sisky knelt down on the temporary wooden flooring, and just in front of him, lying half on the wooden flooring and half on the grassy ground… “Bill.” It comes out strangled, barely sounding like what it is, and before he can stop himself Gabe’s brain wonders if that might be appropriate.
It’s Butcher who approaches him first. “The EMTs are coming. Few minutes, they said,” he says quietly, and Gabe recognises the same edge of bitterness and pain he’s feeling himself in Butcher’s voice. Butcher reaches forward, placing his hand on Gabe’s shoulder. “It’s pretty bad,” he tells Gabe, voice low like a warning, like Gabe doesn’t already have all the worst case scenarios playing in his head on repeat.
“I need - Let me… I need to -” Full sentences evade Gabe effortlessly, his brain barely functioning as he walks forward, motions robotic as his legs work automatically. One step forward. Two, three… Then ‘automatic’ fails Gabe spectacularly as his ability to take a breath in and out seems to die somewhere in him. “Bilvy…” Gabe falls to his knees opposite Sisky, jerking his shoulder away from Alex’s touch when the bassist reaches out to him; whether to comfort him or keep him from reaching for William, Gabe doesn’t know. “Don’t,” Gabe bites out sharply. He knows it isn’t fair, but when he looks at William - William’s body? his mind questions, panicking - ‘fair’ hardly comes into it.
He isn’t moving, and his eyes are closed like he’s sleeping but he isn’t. Gabe can tell because of the blood.
…There’s blood.
Why is there blood? The question screams in Gabe’s head, his own heartbeat pounding in his ears as his eyes pass over William, back and forth, frantically searching for where the blood is coming from. Gabe leans forward, putting together the trail of blood, the way it’s on his t shirt but - aside from a tear at the v-neck collar - the shirt itself is in tact. The red, dried to brown in places, has dripped from William’s nose but it’s trailing down his cheek, too, seeping from somewhere in his now-matted hair. Gabe recognises what Sisky is holding in his hand as Victoria’s sweater, now bloodstained.
For the first time since Gabe had gotten there, Sisky lifts his head to look at him instead of William. “I started to… I didn’t know. But on the phone they said not to… something about pressure, the brain… I don’t know,” he mutters, shaking his head as he drops his head back down to look at William. Sisky’s hand hovers over William’s chest, his fingers shaking. “We’re not supposed to touch him.” Gabe’s focus switches slightly to William’s chest, and he notices that he can see William’s chest rising and falling still. He’s breathing, and without consciously acting Gabe finds his own breaths matching the small movements. Gabe’s thoughts interlock with the rhythms, too.
Breathe in; come on, Bill. Breathe out; it’ll be okay. You gotta be okay.
“Did anyone see what the fuck happened?” Gabe asks quietly, glancing around for the others when Sisky doesn’t look up. Carden doesn’t look at him either, just keeps pacing up and down where he is, glancing up every now and then to check for the EMTs. Victoria’s eyes are focused similarly, looking past the security, past the crowd and into the distance. Nate’s stood next to her but he turns around, shaking his head along with the rest of the guys.
Only Butcher speaks. “Don’t need three guesses to figure out who did it, though.”
“I’ll kill them,” Gabe is saying the words before he realises it, and once they’re out in air, cutting into the quiet that surrounds them, Gabe honestly can’t decide whether he regrets them or not. All he knows is that he’s getting William’s blood on his jeans, and suddenly morals and shit become questionable.
“Gabe…” It’s Chiz, speaking quietly from where he’s stood a couple of feet away. “We need you here, mate. Not running off on some vendetta.”
Glancing down at William for a second or two, watching him breathe in and out once, Gabe then pushes himself up from his knees, getting up to stand as he turns around, looking at everyone in turn. “I need to do something!” he yells, not giving a shit whether anyone else outside their group hears or how close to sounds to actually losing it.
“You’ve done enough!” Carden spins on his heel, striding back toward Gabe and pointing at him, as if there could be any doubt who he’s speaking to. His angry gaze is focused right on Gabe.
“What?” The volume of Gabe’s voice drops in an instant as Mike’s words and their implication hits him. Hard.
“You heard me,” Carden bites back right away. “If you hadn’t kept on, and on at those guys -”
“Are you shitting me?” Gabe looks around, searching for agreement or lack thereof from the others; Alex and Ryland shaking their heads, Butcher doing likewise, but the rest of the guys not really reacting at all. Gabe isn’t sure what that means. He isn’t sure what’s happening at all. Gabe finds himself hoping that maybe he fell offstage and hit his head, and all of this is some vivid hallucination.
Gabe closes his eyes for a second, but he doesn’t wake up.
“They’re here!” At the sound of Victoria’s voice Gabe’s eyes snap open again, just in time to see the paramedics approaching, parting the crowd in their wake and rushing past the line of security with what Gabe assumes is far too practised ease.
Gabe steps back automatically to make way for them, Carden’s words pushed to the back of his mind for the time being as he watches the two men walk forward quickly, putting the plastic stretcher type thing on the ground and kneeling down beside William, pulling equipment out of the bag one of them has and firing questions at Sisky.
Looking back the other way, past the crowd, Gabe can make out the flashing lights of the waiting ambulance. None of it feels real. It’s almost out of body, the way Gabe feels like this must be someone else’s life, like it can’t be William lying there on the ground, practically lifeless. It feels like… like a movie, Gabe thinks, hating himself slightly for it as the thought plays through in his head.
But no. Maybe if it was a movie, or some fucking fairytale, the curse could be lifted by a kiss or some shit. Happily ever after.
Instead, Gabe is left wondering if it could have been a kiss that condemned William to this in the first place.
---
The hospital feels cold, but Gabe isn’t sure whether that’s just him. There must be rules about keeping hospitals kinda warm, right? On account of all the people who are sick, or… Gabe swallows hard when his stomach suddenly clenches with nausea, and not for the first time since they’d arrived.
The EMTs had let Sisky ride in the ambulance with William, but the rest of them were left to follow along in a couple of cabs. It hadn’t made much difference, though, apparently. When they’d arrived at the emergency room Sisky had been there waiting, slumped down in one of the plastic chairs lining the walls. All he’d been able to tell them was that William had still been breathing when the hospital staff had wheeled him through the double doors that Gabe guessed lead to the treatment rooms or whatever.
That had been a good hour ago, by now, and to say Gabe has started to go a little crazy is an understatement. It would help, he thinks, as he glances at the doors again, if they had anything more to go on than “He’s as stable as can be expected. We’re doing everything we can.”, which was what the nurse told Butcher a while ago, now.
Gabe doesn’t want robotic answers given to every other nerve-wracked person in here, but at the same time he isn’t sure he wants the truth, either. Gabe wants some doctor to come up to them, laughing, and tell them William had a bit of a bump on the head but mostly he just inexplicably spilled ketchup over himself which everyone mistook for blood. He wants someone to come and tell them that William is sat up on some gurney, complaining that they won’t let him have coffee and emo-ing about the state of his hair.
What Gabe wants most of all is for William to walk out of the double doors himself. Gabe can see it happen in his head; Sisky jumping up and proclaiming the healing powers of Santi, everyone hugging each other, laughing. Gabe can see it in his head so perfectly, but it doesn’t happen. He waits, and everything just stays the same. All of them just sitting there in silence; too scared to speculate.
There’s one exception, actually. Mike is stood, leaning against the wall in the gap between chairs. He hasn’t moved since they arrived and he hasn’t said one word. The rest of them had attempted small talk every now and then, wondering out loud about how William was doing, asking each other whether anyone wanted snacks (no one did). Mike has just been staring at the floor, occasionally glancing at the doors William had been wheeled through earlier.
Gabe can’t blame him for not talking to anyone. He’s not exactly chatty himself, and whatever any of them are saying it’s what they’re not saying which is really weighing on the atmosphere around them. The possibility that William might not be alright, and none of them have any idea how likely that is.
Trying to distract himself, Gabe looks around the room, taking in the other people sitting, waiting. There’s a guy with his hand wrapped in a bloody t shirt - Gabe suspects a DIY disaster of some sort. But he’s smiling and talking to the woman who’s sitting with him, so Gabe thinks he’ll be okay. There’s a teenage girl - or maybe she’s old enough to be in college, Gabe has no real clue - who looks really sick, wrapped in a blanket and shivering. She’s also alone. Gabe frowns, hoping she gets seen quickly. He glances to the nurses’ station. They’re all so fucking busy, rushing around and grabbing charts, and selfishly Gabe suddenly can’t think about anyone else, and just hopes William is being taken care of properly.
Taking a deep breath, Gabe sighs in out again as he stretches in his seat, reaching out with long limbs and then pushing himself to sit up straight.
“So,” he says, prompting the other guys to look at him. “How long do we have to leave it before we ask how he is again?”
It’s Ryland that answers, sat opposite him, leant forward on his knees. “I don’t really know what the etiquette is for this kind of thing.” He offers Gabe a small smile, glancing at Sisky as well. Sisky isn’t looking at anyone right now. He’s almost curling in on himself. They’ve all been sort of keeping an eye on him, Gabe’s noticed. Victoria’s arm is resting lightly around Sisky’s shoulders; Butcher is sat next to him, close enough so their knees touch, and Chiz is sat opposite. They’re all around him, just letting him be aware that they’re there without pushing it. The family, being there for each other, and underneath the sickening worry and the anger that’s still simmering within him, Gabe feels a distinct note of pride - and love - striking somewhere in his chest.
“I think if there was anything else to know, we’d know. You know?” Chiz says quietly, getting various murmurs of acknowledgement from the group. “Maybe we just… wait, I guess,” he trails off, voice fading as he sits back in his chair, adjusting his hat.
Gabe jumps slightly when Sisky stands up suddenly, voice tight and just a shade too loud when he says; “I can’t just wait.” A hush falls over the waiting area as most people stop their conversations to look over at them. “Sorry,” Sisky mutters to no one in particular, his head dropping forward far enough for his chin to rest on his chest, his eyes closed. Silently, Butcher stands up next to him, putting an arm around Sisky who turns into the contact, letting Butcher hug him tight.
Across from Gabe, Nate huffs out a sigh. “Maybe we could…” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Everyone’s attention is immediately taken and help by the arrival of a nurse. Gabe stands up, steps forward, and right away steps back again. He’s not sure why, but that kind of fades into the background when the nurse starts speaking.
She addresses Sisky. “Adam? Your friend is stable, enough so that he’s been moved to a side ward, but we’re keeping him under strict observation until… Well. Mr. Beckett is yet to regain consciousness, but you can come and see him if you’d like.” She lowers her voice slightly. “The policy is family only, but since Mr. Beckett’s parents won’t be here for some time and familiar voices often help bring a person back into consciousness, we can make an exception here.”
Sisky nods, turning around to look at Butcher, then Chiz, exchanging a look with each of them. They nod, and Sisky turns back to the nurse. “Let’s go.” She turns, walking back towards the mysterious double doors, and as Sisky steps forward he just says, quietly; “Mike,” and Mike falls into step with him, following the nurse away.
Gabe practically falls back into the plastic chair behind him, sitting down with a soft thump, the metal chair leg squeaking against the floor. “Well, this sucks.”
“At least he’s stable,” Alex says quietly, reaching forward to put his hand on Gabe’s knee for a second.
Gabe gives him a half hearted smile. “At least,” he echoes, adjusting his seat in a fruitless attempt to get comfortable. Then Gabe fixes his eyes on the double doors, anxiously waiting for Sisky and Mike to return with any more information.
They wait.
---
It’s only ten minutes but the time drags painfully. Gabe fidgets with his phone in between glances to those doors. They’d already called Pete on the way to the hospital earlier, but Gabe finds himself looking at Pete’s number on his contact list, fingers itching to call him again. It’s stupid, but Pete always seems to know what to do, so if there was anything that could possibly be done about this then Pete would know. Or at least that’s how it feels to Gabe. Or maybe he just wants to hear Pete’s voice coming out of the speaker phone of one of their cells again, telling them it’ll be okay.
“Stupid,” Gabe breathes out, barely audible but apparently audible enough. Ryland nudges Gabe with his foot, raising an eyebrow at him when Gabe looks up at him. He shakes his head, and Ryland frowns a little, but he doesn’t push Gabe to say anything.
Everyone shifts, almost in unison, looking toward Sisky and Mike making their way back to the rest of them. Gabe resists the urge to stand up again, instead just settling for sitting up a bit, tightening his fingers around his cell phone as he switches his gaze from Sisky, to Mike, then back again, trying to gauge their expressions. It doesn’t look great, and Gabe’s suspicions are confirmed when Sisky addresses the group.
“He’s not awake yet,” Sisky starts. “The doctor was telling us about the, uh. Damage. They said he got hit with something blunt… there’s swelling, and it presses against the brain, and they don’t know…” He falters, and Mike lifts a hand to rest on Sisky’s shoulder.
“They said we’ll know more when he wakes up,” Mike says firmly. “Which… could be a while.” His voice becomes a little cautious, maybe apologetic. “I don’t know if you guys wanna go back…” Mike is talking to everyone, but it’s pretty obvious his latter words would be aimed more toward the Cobras.
And Gabe. Maybe especially him, Gabe thinks, remembering what Mike had said to him back when they’d been waiting for the ambulance to arrive.
Taking the hint, Victoria, Ryland, Alex and Nate stand up, putting on jackets and slipping cell phones back into pockets. Chiz and Butcher stand up too, the two of them exchanging hugs with the Cobras, along with Sisky and Mike. Out of their group Gabe is the only one left sitting.
Once the hugs have finished everyone’s eyes gravitate towards Gabe, looking at him expectantly; waiting.
“I kind of… want to stay here, for a while,” Gabe says, knowing it must have come out just as awkwardly as it felt. He has no reason to stay, really. William’s band is one thing; family just as the Cobras are to Gabe, and besides that William’s parents and sister will probably arrive soon enough. It’s not as though Sisky and the others won’t keep them all informed. But still… Gabe can’t help but want to be here. Be… closer.
“No,” Mike bites out.
At the exact same time, Sisky says, “Sure, man.”
The group is silent for eleven seconds. Gabe counts.
He’s just about to backtrack - after all, the last thing the guys need is any more stress - when Mike speaks again. “’Til Bill’s family gets here, then. Whatever.” He walks off in the general direction of the vending machines down the corridor, and Chiz follows a couple of steps behind. Gabe feels guilty, suddenly, but he isn’t quite sure why.
Gabe gets up, now the assumption won’t be that it’s to leave, and he hugs each of his band, the action accompanied by some variation of “Keep us posted, yeah?” or “We’re here if you need us,” etc. Gabe nods, even smiles once, and then they’re gone.
Watching them walk out, Gabe is then left standing there with Sisky and Butcher. His phone buzzes in his pocket and Gabe fishes it out, looking down at the screen to find a message from Alex flashing there. Gabe frowns as he opens it, reading the words; remember we’re meant 2 b leaving at 10 tmrw. Gabe puts the phone back in his pocket without replying. He’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it, but for now he’s here.
When Gabe lifts his head again he finds Sisky looking at him, biting his lip.
Before Gabe can ask, what?, Sisky opens his mouth instead. “They said we can, like. All visit him in there. But one or two at a time. You know?”
Gabe automatically glances in the direction of where Mike and Chiz has disappeared, but he can’t see them around. Then he looks at Butcher, who shakes his head. “You go. I’ll see him later.” Butcher puts an arm around Sisky, gently pushing him toward the chairs and encouraging him to sit down before doing likewise. “Tell Bill I say ‘hi’, yeah?” Butcher says softly, giving Gabe an encouraging smile as Sisky settles down, leaning his head on Butcher’s shoulder and closing his eyes.
And Gabe nods, but when he turns on the spot slightly to face the double doors he suddenly has to remind himself how to walk; the basic function of moving one foot in front of the other. The image of William lying on the ground flashes through his mind without real warning, though the memory hasn’t drifted far from the forefront of Gabe’s thoughts since the ambulance had taken William away, and Gabe has to wonder whether the sight that lies beyond those doors will be any better or worse.
Fear claws at Gabe’s chest even as he takes a deep breath and walks forward. He pushes the doors open cautiously, the feeling that he doesn’t belong here, not really, still lurking in the back of his head. Inside the emergency ward there are mostly rows of gurneys, some more permanent looking, more bed-like ones, about a third with curtains pulled around them but all of them occupied by patients. The back of the large room is semi-sectioned off with frosted plastic sheets masquerading as glass walls and a curtained doorway. The sign says Intensive Care and Gabe heads forward, taking long strides until he reaches the partition. Then he hesitates, jumping a little a second later when a nurse suddenly appears, pushing the curtain back and rushing through, stopping short when he sees Gabe.
“Um. William Beckett,” Gabe says to him, and the guy raises an eyebrow before glancing at the clipboard he’s holding. “Another ‘brother’, I assume?” The nurse asks, just a hint of tease to his tone, just letting Gabe know that they’re pushing the ‘family’ rule, and it’s fine. The term hits Gabe hard, though, as his mind flashes back to toasting the completion of Snakes on a Plane over a beer with William, having found him lurking on the balcony away from the party they were supposed to be attending. Gabe had had a couple already, which is why it didn’t matter to him whether it made that much sense for him to ask William; “Brothers?”. And now, in the present, Gabe finds himself echoing William’s answer even though the nurse had left seconds before, distractedly telling Gabe that William was toward the back, on the right. Gabe murmurs to himself; “Forever,” and then he forces himself to push the curtain aside and walks forward.
Even without the directions Gabe would have spotted William the second his eyes scanned the beds in front of him. He’s been changed into one of those stupid hospital gowns that don’t flatter anyone, ever, but despite that William’s frame would stand out, the long body which means he barely fits within the length of the bed.
Gabe approaches, his steps slow and cautious until he reaches the bed William is lying on, and then he stops to just stand. There’s a soft beeping noise in the background, coming from the monitor William is connected to by the plastic peg-like device clipped to his finger, another wire trailing under the gown. Gabe takes a second to fix his eyes on the movement of William’s chest; up and down, up and down. It’s comforting enough that Gabe relaxes slightly as he steps forward, dragging the chair he finds next to William’s bed slightly closer and then sitting down.
Sighing deep in his chest, Gabe lets his eyes travel across William’s body, taking in the plastic brace fastened around William’s left wrist.
“Writing hand. Man, you’re gonna be pissed, Bilvy,” Gabe says quietly. It feels weird, talking to himself, but then Gabe reminds himself that he’s not. He’s talking to William. That’s what he’s here for - who he’s here for. Gabe’s eyes shift upward to William’s head, taking in the bandage taped loosely across his right temple. Gabe stands up slightly to get a better look, sitting back in the chair with a thump when he realises. “Fuck, you really are gonna be pissed.” Gabe guesses that it was necessary to examine the damage to William’s head, but that didn’t change how angry William was going to be when he woke up, because they had totally shaved part of his hair off.
“Oh, Bilvy,” Gabe breathes the words out, reaching forward to rest his hand lightly on William’s forearm, above where the wrist brace ends. He scrubs his other hand across his face, glancing around behind where he’s sitting. Then he reminds himself what he’s doing there. “So,” he says, purposefully louder than he had spoken before, to make sure William would hear him. …If he could hear him. “What do you want to do when you get out of here, huh? You’ll be hungry, probably. We could hit one of those all-you-can eat Mexican places or something, Bill. All of us, big family meal…” Gabe sighs, closing his eyes for a second. It all feels so… fake. Gabe pauses for a second before shifting forward, that bit closer to William. “You gotta wake up, Bilvy… Fuck, why am I saying your name so much? I know it’s you, and you’re still… you. This is just so fucking weird, and wrong - for fuck’s sake.”
Gabe glances away from William’s face, away from his closed eyes and the bruised skin, a cut across the bridge of his nose with a butterfly bandage on it. When he brings his eyes back to William’s face Gabe swallows hard, tracing his index finger in a circle across William’s arm, just below his elbow. “You’re gonna wake up, and you’re gonna be fine - you’re gonna be fucking fine,” Gabe says, pausing when he realises how strained his voice is, how it might be shaking just a little. “And you’re gonna go out there and keep going and those fuckers are going to jail and you’re gonna go and tour and be fucking awesome.” Gabe smiles, bringing his hand down to hook his index finger around William’s. “Hey, maybe I’ll come on tour.” Then Gabe thinks for a second, and the smile drops from his face in an instant. “Maybe it’d be better if I didn’t.” Gabe sighs, Mike’s words ringing in his head; If you hadn’t kept on, and on at those guys…
Gabe moves his hand, leaning over and reaching up to just brush his fingers across William’s hair, barely touching it even though it’s the opposite side to where the worst of the damage was done. Gabe can feel the muscles in his face tighten as the wave of emotion hits him; pain at seeing William lying here, the guilt, the sickening worry and mind numbing fear that William might not… that he might not be okay.
“I was trying to protect you,” Gabe whispers, his face almost scrunching a little as tears start to prick at the corner of his eyes, just that pressure there, threatening to break the dam. “I only wanted to protect you.” Gabe takes a deep, shuddering breath, and closes his eyes tightly for a moment. He balances on the knife-edge for a couple of seconds before finally falling on the side of not breaking down. Gabe opens his eyes again, fixing his gaze on William’s eyelids once more.
Gabe has watched William sleep before. He thinks of covering a passed-out William with a blanket where he lies on the Midtown tourbus’s shitty excuse for a sofa, long legs hanging over the edge. That was one of the first times, and not the last by far.
Often William would fidget in his sleep, Gabe thinks, or maybe dream vividly because there would be tiny movements under his eyelids. They seem stiller, now, and although Gabe tries to think it probably doesn’t matter, he can’t help but wonder.
Shaking his head a little to try and snap himself out of it, Gabe shifts in his seat as well. He feels tired, suddenly. In all honesty he’d like to get on the bed next to William and close his eyes for a while.
Gabe thinks; if he could swap places with William right now, he would.
In the back of his mind the fairytale plays out on the projector screen; the happy ever after ending Gabe has never wished harder for than in this moment. Break the curse with a kiss.
But that’s what started this, started this whole fucking chain of events, Gabe thinks - no, yells at himself in his head. It’s what he’s been thinking since Mike had thrown those words at him more than a couple of hours ago, now. It was the idea that he’d provoked the guys that did this, that sparked the thought in Gabe’s brain. Because it was then that he realised the guys were cunts to begin with, might have planned the attack from the off. Or maybe not, Gabe thinks as he stares at William’s motionless body, his eyes starting to hurt from not blinking. But the reason for fixating on William in the first place… that’s something Gabe had far too easily been able to guess.
Google ‘William Beckett’ and there it is; one picture guaranteed to show up.
And Gabe has never been ashamed of it, not once, and his and William’s… playing around, whatever the fuck it was they actually did, or whatever they’d been to each other for a while, was never some big secret within the FBR family. But now… Now Gabe is left wondering what it could have cost them, cost William… Yeah, if Gabe could change things, maybe he would.
“I don’t know,” Gabe announces to the air, suddenly feeling guilty as fuck for not speaking to William himself. “Sorry, Bill. Everything’s so… big mess, huh?” Gabe laughs a little, imagining William attempting to punch him in the shoulder for that one. “But it’ll be fine. You’ll be fine,” Gabe says firmly, nodding to himself as he reaches out to William’s hand again, slipping his under William’s and wrapping his fingers around them, squeezing as hard as he dares - which is barely at all. “I’ll catch you later.”
Pushing the chair back slightly Gabe stands up, looking down at William for half a minute or so. And he wishes. Gabe wishes so hard that he almost thinks he sees it, the flicker of William’s eyes opening.
But they don’t.
Sighing, Gabe thinks of the others waiting back in the reception area, and after letting himself look at William for just a couple more seconds, Gabe makes himself turn around and walk away.
The soft beep of the monitor fades with every step, but Gabe holds the sound in his thoughts as long as he can, finding some hope in the sound of William’s heartbeat still going strong, still fighting.
When Gabe gets back out there with the others he only pauses long enough to tell them there’s no change. He’s fine but there’s no change, he’s not awake yet. Knowing it is worse when Gabe has to say it out loud and confess it to their hopeful faces.
Gabe excuses himself, muttering the reason for it to The Butcher as he walks away, heading for the exit doors. It’s almost dark outside. Gabe isn’t sure why he wasn’t expecting it. Maybe because it feels as though much more time has passed than actually has. Gabe kind of feels like it’s been days since they got here - not a couple of hours, if that.
Pulling the packet of smokes and lighter from his hoodie pocket, Gabe puts one in his mouth and shoves the packet back in his pocket before he lights up. The feel of the smoke in his lungs, the slight burn in his throat, and the little buzz of a high that follows, bring welcome distraction from the mess of Gabe’s thoughts and emotions. He watches the smoke drift up and dissipate into the night sky; seemingly endless.
Taking another deep drag, Gabe closes his eyes as he blows the smoke out in one long breath of air.
For the first time in a long time, now, Gabe prays.