Leon

"I'm just saying, it's been weird," Reed protested, the phone carrying the thinness of his voice that said he was desperate to understand and a little frustrated. "You've been so quiet for…ever, actually. But the past six months? It's been even worse."

I closed my eyes. "I know, I've just been busy."

Busy planning the funeral of my little brother. Busy dealing with the ache that had taken up residence in my chest and refused to leave.

No, scratch that, it was no ache. An ache didn't feel like a giant, feral monster with teeth and claws that shredded you from the inside. An ache didn't leave the hollowness behind when the pain finally decided to pass for a moment, even when you knew it would return soon. An ache didn't leave you wondering how the fuck you were supposed to make it to the next day with this thing living in your chest, let alone the next week or fuck, a whole month.

I should just say it. Tell him what happened. It wasn't like he talked to anyone who would have passed the news along. Even if he'd paid attention to the news around here, no one would have mentioned it, and there would have been no news articles about Ian. He was just another statistic, a victim of drunk driving like so many across the country.

"Busy with what?" he asked wearily, and I could hear his patience growing thin. It had been months since we'd done more than text, and I was fighting to keep my voice under control. "I just want you to talk to me."

I wanted to. I wanted to tell him the truth. He would have dropped everything right then and flown straight to me to help me through this disaster. It wasn't like I had anyone else. The absolute wastes that were our parents hadn't bothered to do anything except try to garner pity for the death of a child they hadn't cared about.

And Ray? God, he sank even deeper into his shell with the loss of our brother. He had never been good at expressing himself, except to Ian, and now that was gone. He had never been close with me, and sometimes I wondered if he blamed me for not pushing Ian to get as far from this stupid fucking city and go to college or work somewhere else.

I know I did.

But that would mean Reed leaving everything behind, and he had worked so hard. He was in med school, and the demands on him were…beyond anything I could understand. If he left now, even for a week, he would fall behind and probably be unable to recover. His life was looking up. He didn't need to be around to watch mine implode, which it was steadily doing.

It felt like I had nothing left to tie me to reality anymore. Ian was gone, Ray was slipping away, and I had been slowly letting Reed float away from me as he moved on to a better future. There was nothing left, and the only hold I had left was on the phone right now, almost begging me to talk to him.

"Just work," I lied through my teeth. "Stuff like that."

"Stuff like that," he repeated, not believing me.

"Yeah, I was on break when I called," I said, staring at my apartment wall. "So I should probably get back before I get my ass reamed again for taking too long."

"Sure," he said, pain in his voice, but even then, all I could hear was the roar of agony inside me. "Call me back later?"

"If I can, I might just come home and crash, working a double again."

"Okay, then tomorrow."

"Yeah, we'll talk soon."

I didn't know it then, but it would be years before we spoke again.

* * *

"I'm sorry,"someone whispered, and I only had a moment to realize it was my voice I heard. The realization paled in comparison to the ache that rocked through me, making me grit my teeth as I groaned.

"Hey," a warm voice said gently next to my ear. "Don't get up, Leon. Stay right where you are, okay?"

I finally remembered I had eyes and cracked them open. My vision was blurred, but I could still make out the familiar welcome shape of Reed standing over me. There was a faint light from somewhere in the room, but it was the sound of soft beeping that made my throat and chest tighten.

"Where am I?" I asked, trying to sit up again, only to be pushed back by a firm but gentle hand. It was a hospital room from the antiseptic smell and beeping machines.

"You're in one of the exam rooms on the ranch," Reed said quickly. "You're not in the hospital."

I trusted he wouldn't lie to me, and I took a moment to look around and make sense of what I was seeing now my vision was clearing. It definitely looked like one of the exam rooms, but there were a couple of machines that hadn't been there before. The overhead lights had been turned off. Considering the ache in my head, I was grateful.

"Didn't…mean to say that out loud," I said, my heart slowing down as I confirmed this wasn't a hospital room.

"Say what?"

"About…this being…in the hospital, I guess. I'm not sure."

"You didn't," he said, and I watched him pull up a seat next to the bed and sit down. "This isn't the first time you've been awake."

"It's not?" I asked, having no memory of having been awake before.

Though now I thought about it, I didn't remember much. I remembered talking to Reed about my brothers. There was so much I'd left out when I told him about Ray and Ian, but it was still more than I'd told anyone else. Truth was, I should have told him all those years ago when I was trapped in a cycle of complete misery and hopelessness. Then again, it would have probably resulted in his life's ambitions being put on pause like I'd feared back then, and even if his life had ended up with him in the same spot as me, it had been the best choice.

Funny how good choices didn't always feel that good.

But after that conversation, I didn't…we had been walking back to where we'd been working. There had been…something had happened, but I couldn't recall what. All I could remember was someone shouting and the sudden jolt of fear ripping through me and…nothing.

"What happened?" I asked softly, rubbing my aching head. "It feels like I got into a boxing match with a gorilla."

"You lost a fight with a retaining wall that wasn't…retaining very well," he told me with a heavy sigh. "Idiot."

"Christ, did I try to catch it?" I asked, trying to assess what hurt. The problem was, it felt like my entire body was hurting, but I had to admit, my right shoulder and my head hurt the most. Well, my back wasn't feeling stellar, either.

"No," he said with a roll of his eyes. "You decided to play hero."

"What?"

"I'm not exactly sure what happened since my back was to it, and I was off in la la land. The wall was coming down. You panicked and threw me away from the thing. It cost you time to get away."

"And then I took a whole wall to the back, at least, I hope it was the back."

"It was a little of everything. You got banged up pretty good."

"Wow, and I'm not in the hospital?"

"Well," he said and, for some reason, winced guiltily. "No."

Someone stepped into the room with a snort. "Against all medical advice and good sense, yes, you're still here."

Reed cringed. "Hey, Alice."

"What's going on?" I asked as the woman stepped into the room, looking over the machines.

Reed sighed. "Just…professional differences."

"Either you can tell him, or I can," Dr. Greenway said as she made a note of something. "And it will probably sound better coming from you."

My eyes widened. "Jesus, am I dying?"

"No, if I thought you were in serious danger, you wouldn't be here," Dr. Greenway said, turning a frown on Reed. "But as beat up as you are, you're not in immediate, life-threatening danger…probably."

"Comforting," I said and looked to Reed, arching a brow and hoping he would give me the answer I was asking for.

He sighed again. "You kept going in and out of consciousness, which is not a great sign. But when you caught wind of the fact that we were going to send you to the hospital, you, uh, well, let's just say you didn't take it well."

Well, that made sense. Hospitals and I had never gotten along, but after spending two weeks in the hospital while Ian fought for his life, I wasn't a big fan. The clinic was alright because I knew it wasn't a hospital. Oddly, that was where the logic and reason stopped because I knew hospitals were a place of healing and recovery, where they fought like hell to keep you alive, but that didn't matter when my brain associated them with nothing but death and misery.

But something about this seemed off. "Uh, when you say I didn't take it well."

He cocked his head, and my eyes widened when I realized his face hadn't been in shadow. There was a dark circle around his eyes, and his lip was split. "You took it quite poorly."

"I had to sedate you," Dr. Greenway added because, apparently, she decided she wanted to be ‘helpful.'

"Oh my god," I groaned, wanting to reach out but was forced to stop because of the IV. I peered at it for a moment and wondered what they were pumping me with.

"It's just fluids," Dr. Greenway said, sounding irritated. "But if we have another incident, I can always slam another dose into you and knock you back into happy land."

I couldn't tell if she was irritated at me, the situation, Reed, or some combination of the three, but my attention was on him. "I hit you? Jesus, Reed, I'm so sorry."

Reed chuckled. "You weren't trying to hit me. You were blindly attacking what you thought was the ‘threat' of going to the hospital."

"Didn't try but certainly succeeded," Dr. Greenway added, arching a brow.

"C'mon, Alice," Reed complained. "I used to work in the ER. Having someone swing at me is pretty normal. It's one of the reasons you always call me when someone's being difficult."

"Well, you calming people down without having to dose them is an advantage when you're trying to treat people quickly and get them out of here," she said with a frown. "And don't think you're off the hook. And now that he's awake, you can go get something on that eye like I told you to before and?—"

"I know, I know," he said with a sigh, pushing out of his seat. "I've treated bruises before and then some."

"And take something for that rib!" she called after him as he left the room.

I could feel the blood drain from my face. "Rib?"

"Bruised, probably cracked, but nothing he can't get through so long as he doesn't overdo it," she said in a clipped voice. "Now, lay back, and still, I need to do a few checks. And so help me, if you're seriously concussed, personal issues about a hospital visit or not, you're going."

"Probably won't help my case much if I point out that you shouldn't say that to someone if they don't want to go. Just gives more motivation to lie."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm a professional who's spent the past fifteen years of her career dealing with hard-headed, persistent men who aren't afraid to lie to my face," she said with a snort, setting her tablet on the small table nearby. "And who also knows it's remarkably hard to lie about having a concussion unless you're used to having them."

"Christ, can you get used to those?"

"No, by that point, you're dealing with severe brain damage. Which is not something you want, so I'm going to have a talk about hard hats in the future when it comes to construction."

"Probably a good idea."

"I'd like to think so," she said and bent over me. "Now, any disorientation or dizziness? Confusion?"

"When I first woke up, I was a little groggy, still feel that way, but…not really?"

"Not really is not a good answer."

"Here," I said, pushing upright as best I could and stopping. "Okay, a little dizziness, but I don't feel like I'm going to keel over and slam my face into the floor. And the confusion I feel is probably the normal kind."

"Define the normal kind."

"The kind that happens after a building falls on you and you don't remember freaking out on people who are trying to help you…probably because I got drugged."

"Mmm," she said, lips pursing. "Lay back down. You made your point. How's your head?"

"Feels like someone dropped a wall on it."

"Cute."

"I don't know how else to describe it. It hurts. If you want someone to be better at this, go drop a wall on Reed, and I'm sure he could give you the full break down."

Her lip twitched. "I heard you saved him today."

"I don't remember anything about it, but I guess."

"It will never stop giving me hope when I see things like that around here. Sure, the cons here aren't the worst of the worst, but they're not always prime examples of humanity, either. Yet, given the chance, so many of them show there is still a great deal of humanity left inside them," she said, looking up at the bag on the IV stand. "I originally joined the program because it seemed like a challenge."

"A challenge?" I asked as she grabbed my wrist and took my pulse, despite the machine attached to me that probably did that for her.

"Something new, something different. Like Reed, I spent time in the ER. After a while, it starts to drain you. Little pieces start to break off, and you lose sight of who you are. All that misery and pain catches up with you eventually. And you either find something else, or you burn out and never recover. I loved what I did, so I thought a place like this might be a middle ground. A place where I could still be challenged, but where I wasn't going to lose every emotional neuron I had."

"That's gotta be hard," I said, unsure what to say. It felt like she was rambling, but I didn't know why. It wasn't like she was invested in what happened to me. Or maybe she was trying to make a point, and I just needed to let her speak.

"And so I came here. And I've been taking care of these men for a decade and a half. It turned out to be the best of both worlds," she said, looking at me with a small smile. "I get the challenge of dealing with difficult men, but I get to see the good things they're capable of. So, despite you almost knocking out my best worker, I'm glad to see you're one of the good ones."

"I don't know about that, but I'm glad you could pull something good from all this," I said with a snort, a little embarrassed by the praise. I thought she would give me a glimpse into her life, not turn it around, so it became a compliment.

"I'm always a little surprised at how life can give you its worst, and yet there's usually a glimmer of something better and brighter in it," she said. "Light sensitivity?"

"Huh?"

"You've been avoiding looking at the lights."

"Oh. Yeah, but I get migraines a lot."

"I've seen your chart," she said after a moment and grunted. "Truth be told, you should be in a lot worse shape than you are. I expected a shattered back, broken bones, hell, even a fracture on top of a major concussion. Brains leaking out of your ears."

"I'm having a hard time finding any of this inspiring," I told her with a frown.

She chuckled. "Well, you should. Having an entire wall fall on you like that should have caused serious problems, but what do you have? I'd guess a mild to maybe moderate concussion, a bruised back and chest, a head wound that was stitched up easily enough?—"

"What?" I asked, reaching up to grab my head only to be immediately reminded why that was a bad idea when a fresh wave of agony washed over me and made me close my eyes as tears sprung to them. "Ow."

"Yes, don't do that," she said mildly. "We'll have to keep you overnight, but I suspect you'll be out in the morning. After that, you'll need rest and maybe a few painkillers, depending on the severity of the pain."

"Can I request something that makes it not hurt while not turning me into a drooling mess who doesn't remember what they did? What time is it anyway?"

"Nearly ten. You've been here almost nine hours."

It was strange and delayed, and I wasn't sure if that was her intention, but I found the whole story encouraging. I had never considered why someone who wasn't a felon would want to come to the ranch to work. Mona struck me as someone who firmly believed in its aims but also got a great deal of personal gratification out of the work on its own merits. And here was someone who had taken the job for that same sense of personal gratification but had found something higher in it to appreciate.

It was another example of how this place and its people weren't just good or bad or mostly one or the other. They were all mixes of good and bad, swirled into one ball of humanity as complicated as it was messy. It was the same sort of thing I had seen snarled together in someone like Reno, but I had never really been able to put it into words until now.

"And before I leave, which will inevitably draw Reed back into the room, I do want to tell you something he'll probably leave out," she said, leaning in close again.

"Okay," I said slowly, frowning. "What would he possibly be leaving out?"

"The fact that the battle about whether or not to send you to the hospital was not, in fact, won by your oh-so-compelling arguments while you were out of your mind with panic and pain, but by the fact that he argued for it."

"Why would he do that?"

"Probably because he, like any doctor, is still a human being. Prone to human foibles and failings. And that means he saw your fear, and considering the strange bond the two of you share, I suspect he knows the meaning behind it, which means most of his professionalism drained out of his body when he saw someone he cared about having a moment of genuine fear and terror. So, he argued with me about sending you, and when Mona came to check how things were going, I told her you could stay the night, and if anything came up, we would waste no time sending you on."

"And just how much is Reed paying for this?"

"For being human? The same as everyone else."

"Which includes having a boss that's cranky and disappointed with him."

She laughed softly at that, patting my hand. "Cranky, yes. Disappointed? No. If I wanted someone who had divorced themselves from their humanity to the point that they saw patients as annoyances, I would have taken on someone on the path to being like…someone else around here."

I grinned. "Professionalism keeping you from saying a certain name out loud?"

"And a begrudging respect for a coworker"s abilities."

"I see."

"Well, I think that about takes care of things," she said, stepping back. "I'll be in periodically to check on you. Try to get some rest and don't stay up all night, got it? You need rest."

"Why do I have the sneaking feeling I will be hearing that phrase for a while?"

"Because you are. Get over it."

I'd always liked Dr. Greenway. Something about her casual and genuine warmth and attentiveness made her a good doctor, but that sense of humor and edge of no-nonsense made her perfect for this place.

A thought occurred to me as she started to leave the room. "Hey, if it means he's got human failings and foibles for arguing for me to stay here, what does that make you for listening to him?"

Her brow shot up, and a ghost of a smile crossed her face. "An even bigger sentimental fool than him."

I chuckled as she finally disappeared, not closing the door behind her and letting in the light from the hallway. Thankfully, it wasn't much brighter than the light in the room, but the pounding ache in my skull didn't make me appreciate that fine detail. I wasn't sure how I was expected to rest, but I thought it might be a good idea to try with Dr. Greenway on patrol.

After a few minutes, Reed walked in, closing the door behind him. He had something in his hand, and his other hand was pressed over his eye. I heard the crinkle of a bag and winced.

"Ice bag?" I wondered.

"Leftover steak that's been freezer burned to the last circle of hell and back," he said with a chuckle. "I got a dirty look from Alice, but she didn't say anything, so that's a start."

"I'm sorry about your eye," I told him with a wince.

"Yeah, you already said that. As a matter of fact, you've been muttering it off and on since we sedated you."

"I don't think it was because of that," I admitted softly as he set the frozen steak aside and stood beside the bed.

"Then what was it for?" he asked curiously.

"I was, well, the only thing I remember was dreaming about our last conversation."

"About your brothers?"

"Well, not that one, I meant the last one before I disappeared on you."

There was a moment of silence before he sat down. After a moment, he reached out and laid his hand over mine. "I thought about that while waiting for you to wake up. Switching between digesting the fact that you're a heroic idiot?—"

"Please don't say that around the guys. I'll never hear the end of it."

"And thinking about what you told me when we were taking a break. I couldn't help but do the math, and if I'm right, you disappeared a little after Ian's death, didn't you?"

I swallowed hard. "I did."

"Which means our last conversation over the phone was you dealing with everything from that."

"Yes."

"And you didn't tell me."

"No."

He nodded, giving me a sad smile. "I'd hoped I was wrong about that."

"Reed…" I began but realized I didn't know how to finish what I was trying to say. How could I fully explain what it had been like back then? To describe the hopeless spiral my life and head had been trapped in, leaving me unable to break free? And how did I explain that I had still been thinking of him, trying to keep him as far from the black hole that had situated itself at the center of my everything?

"Don't," he said, shaking his head. "Now is not the time to talk about that. You've had a rough enough day, let's not add discussing that shit to the list. You need to rest."

"What is that?" I asked as he drew out what I saw now was a capped needle.

"Painkillers," he said with a small smile as he pulled the IV line toward him.

"I don't?—"

"It's enough to take the edge off the pain and help you sleep, but you won't be incoherent. I'm not interested in sedating you."

"I…okay," I said as he pushed the fluid into the line. It was darker than the saline, and in the dim lighting, it looked like black sludge as it slid down the clear tube into my arm. I felt heat from where the needle connected, snaking up my arm through my veins where it reached my chest. There was a pinch as my chest tightened before releasing and sending warmth through my body. "Okay, that's a feeling."

"I tried to be merciful with the dosing. Considering your medical history didn't show anything stronger than Tylenol in the past few years. Well, your official medical history anyway," he said with a sly look in my direction.

"I never dropped hot behind bars," I told him quietly. "And never did anything."

"Well, I'm going to trust that you're smart enough not to lie to the person who's supposed to be taking care of you," he said as he eased the needle back. "And will be sentimental enough to feel like you wouldn't lie to my face."

"Nah," I said with a small smile. "Not me."

"Good," he said, retaking his seat.

"Once I'm out cold, you need to go get some rest yourself. You've had a long day, just like me."

"I'm okay."

"Yeah, the dark circles around your eyes say otherwise."

"Well, there is a pretty big circle around one of them."

"Reed."

He grinned. "Don't worry, I'm not holding a grudge, and I'll get some rest, but I am going to harass you about hitting me whenever there's no one else around."

Which laid to rest the other unspoken fear I had, which was that other people would find out what had happened today. The last thing I needed was for the guys to think I would somehow present a problem or a threat somewhere down the road. Sure, it might gain me some ‘respect' from new guys who came in fresh from the culture of being behind bars, but that wasn't the kind of respect I was looking for.

However, as I tried to assert the thought further into my head, I ran into difficulties, and my mind struggled to make sense of anything. The worries that had been there were starting to dull around the edges, losing the weight and substance that had been so pivotal only a few minutes ago.

I snorted. "I wonder if I'm the first person at the ranch who can say they had a building fall on them."

"Part of one," Reed corrected, but I could see and hear that he was smiling, even with my vision getting a little muddled.

"That's gotta be a record. Think I'll get a medal?"

"I think Mona will have a few things to say about what happened today and is just waiting until you've recovered enough."

"God, not Mona. That woman is up to something."

There was a pause. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, it just feels like she is. She's always pushing me, trying to mess with me, and I-I don't know, it's weird. She's up to something."

"That your intuition speaking or your paranoia?"

I snickered, laying my head back and looking up at the ceiling. "I don't know. I don't know if there's a difference sometimes, you know?"

"I remember you saying that once."

"And I remember you said you were off in la la land when you almost got smooshed."

"Smooshed."

"Like a little bug. But then I get smooshed like a…bigger bug. Got me a good exoskeleton, though, huh, there's a word I never use. Exo…skele…ton. Skelly ton. Weird word. Skeleton on the outside. Skelly."

"We can talk about la la land another day when you're not the one currently visiting it," he said with a chuckle, laying a hand on my forehead. "Close your eyes and try to rest."

"Fine, fine," I grumbled as I closed my eyes to make him happy. "Too much going on in my head. Little…thoughts."

"Have those little thoughts. Just try to rest. That's the important part."

"Sure, sure."

"Thank you."

After a moment, I felt a chuckle bubble up in my throat. "Hey, Reed?"

"Yeah?"

"You know how you said sometimes I check you out?"

"Pretty sure I only accused you of it once, but yeah, I knew there were other times."

"I totally was."

"Good to know."

"Yeah," I said brightly, "it is."

At that point, though, the lightness in my head was pulling me away from the conversation. Not that I was bothering to fight it, I simply relaxed and let it take me up and up, to where my thoughts melted away, and I was left in blissful silence.

* * *

"This is not exactlywhat I had in mind when it came to broadening horizons," I heard a Mona say from my faint haze.

"It did nearly broaden him in the literal sense," Reed said wryly. "From what I overheard, if Leon had been half a foot to the right, or if the ties on the wall had all given out, we wouldn't be looking at a drugged-up dork but a casket full of jelly."

"That is absolutely disgusting," Mona said as I returned to reality, remembering where I was and what had happened. "And I'm honestly more appalled that the imagery is probably accurate and will stick with me."

"Sorry, a little bit of the gallows humor you pick up working in an ER," Reed said, but still confused and trying to make sense of what was happening, I could tell he wasn't sorry. "And it's bad taste to talk about a patient as if they're not there, even if they're unconscious."

"I'm really glad to hear you're happy I'm not a jelly pancake," I said, finally opening my eyes. The room was brighter than before, which made the stabbing in my brain worse, but at least it wasn't the wracking pain from before. Reed was leaning against one of the cabinets while Mona stood in the doorway, dressed in a blouse, tall boots, and dirt-stained jeans.

"Because sometimes they can still hear you," Reed finished with a chuckle, looking me over. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I almost got crushed to death yesterday," I said, sitting up slowly and wincing at the twinge in my back. "Well, that's better than just having happened, so I've got that going for me, at least."

"Ever the optimist, willing to seek out those silver linings," Reed said with a smirk.

"Thanks," I said with a roll of my eyes. "So, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

Mona eyed me for a moment before huffing. "Well, considering you were hurt during work, I am interested."

"Funny, I don't recall you visiting everyone when they get hurt."

"I do when they get seriously injured. And being almost crushed to death counts as seriously injured, in case you didn't know."

I didn't know enough about her comings and goings to argue, but I caught Reed"s blank, sidelong glance, which only made me more suspicious. If anyone knew when Mona showed up, it was him, but his expression gave away nothing.

Even without that strangeness on his part, something still felt off about her words, which came off as genuine, if dismissive. But then again, that was nothing new with Mona, at least recently. Before I'd become a mentor, and even in the early months of my time as one, she had never given me that strange feeling. Now, it felt like she was holding something back and simultaneously watching me…evaluating, which was unnerving when I didn't know why she needed to watch me so closely.

"That's an intense expression," Mona noted, raising a brow.

"He's coming down from one hell of a day and no small amount of pain meds," Reed chuckled. "He's probably just groggy and trying to remember his name."

"I remember my name, and I remember that you're both a pain in my ass," I said with a huff. "What's going on?"

"I was called in," Reed said with a shrug. "Dragged out of my bed to have a chat with Mona over your unconscious body."

"That just sounds creepy," I told them, wrinkling my nose.

"Would it make you feel better if I said I wept over your unmoving body? That I was moved to compose a poem in your honor?" Reed asked, arching one brow and smirking at me. It was hard to see under his amusement, but I thought I detected the slightest razor-sharp edge of irritation in him. I couldn't tell if it was at me or the situation…but I thought it might actually be at Mona.

"No, that would be both creepy and awful," I said, turning so I could dangle my legs off the bed after realizing I was no longer tangled in wires and tubes. "I remember your poetry in high school. It was worse than Dr. Seuss if he got drunk and high."

"Charming," Mona said, glancing at Reed.

I stared at Reed, trying to keep my expression as neutral as possible, and was quietly relieved when he shrugged, apparently done with the conversation.

"And to think you almost struck me as a poetic soul," Mona said with a shrug. "Ah well, I can't be right about everything."

Which made me suspicious she thought that no matter what we said. Showing my suspicion was the best way to give up the game, so I just snorted. "Sorry to disappoint."

"You haven't yet," she said mysteriously with an equally confusing chuckle. "How's he doing, Reed?"

"Based on the conversation he managed to have without trailing off or getting lost, I'd say we're not dealing with any serious damage," Reed said with a shrug, stepping closer to me. "How are you? I'm asking as a doctor this time, not Reed."

"Still hurts, obviously."

"Mhmm," he muttered, poking and prodding me. "Tell me."

"Ow…still, ow…kinda…ow!" I snapped suddenly. "What the fuck was that?"

"Testing to see if you were a big baby," he said, but the smile only I could see almost took away from the fact that whatever he'd done had made my whole arm feel like it had seized up. "How's the mobility?"

I grimaced as he moved my arms around. "Doesn't feel great."

"Limited but not terribly," he said, then picked my chin up. "Look at me."

"Mother…" I snapped as a light flashed into my eyes, and I winced as the stabbing in my head became a serrated blade against the inside of my skull. He flicked the light back and forth before pulling it away. "Some warning would have been nice."

"Pupil response is important," he said. "But I see the light sensitivity is still in play. I'll get you some Motrin and coffee in a moment."

"Is that going to help after taking a good smack like that?" Mona wondered.

"He's had migraines since he was eleven. This pain might be from those, or the injuries. Nausea?"

"No," I said, giving my head a light shake.

"Auras?"

"I would have been asleep."

"Right."

Mona cocked her head. "Auras?"

"A handful of people who suffer from migraines get them," Reed said, pulling a machine over and pressing a few buttons. "They're visual usually, but sometimes can be accompanied by a smell. Kind of like that joke about burned toast right before a stroke."

"And sensitivity to light," I said with a shrug. "I get dancing lights. In a rainbow. Very pretty."

"Seriously?"

"No, it's not pretty. Just looks like what you'd see from a sprinkler, and it means my head is about to feel like Thor is smacking around in there with a hammer and a backup axe while we're at it."

"Sounds lovely. Why wasn't that in your files?"

Reed snorted, pressing his fingers against my throat for a moment. "All our medical files are on record. Anything relevant for upper management to know is sent along, but the files you and Mr. Isaiah see don't contain anything that isn't medically significant."

"And when did that start?" she asked, her lips thinning.

"It's been that way since I started work in the clinic. As far as I know, it was a decision made by someone in upper management. Dr. Greenway would probably be able to answer better than me, or Dr. Gideon, for that matter."

"Damn it, Garret," Mona muttered to herself, clearly thinking it was Mr. Isaiah who'd put that into effect. "I don't remember anything about his migraines, and believe it or not, I've looked at his file more than once."

"Well, that's comforting," I muttered, wondering what battle of wills I was trapped between.

"As per the standard operating procedure we have, only things significant for someone in charge but not in this clinic to know are passed along," Reed said, stepping back from me. "Seizure disorders, narcolepsy, diabetes, HIV, so on and so forth."

"Anything potentially dangerous to the person and long term then," Mona said.

"And migraines just make me wish I was dead. They don't actually kill me," I said with a grin. "So those don't count."

"Please tell me that's just a joke and not a plea for help," she said with a sigh. "I have enough on my plate without putting my…putting one of our mentors on suicide watch."

I pretended not to notice the odd lapse. "A joke. They don't make me suicidal."

"Well?" Mona asked, eyeing Reed studiously.

"He's fine," Reed said with a shake of his head.

"And why isn't that convincing?"

"Because it's like I told him yesterday, he should be a lot worse than he is. Taking a hit like that should have done, I don't know, a lot more than this. He's going to be in pain for the next few days, at the very least, if not longer. And he'll be one big bruise for the next few weeks."

"And what would be your medical advice?"

"He's going to need to rest for at least a few days. Not extreme bed rest, but no heavy lifting, no overexerting himself, no?—"

"Excuse me?" I asked, eyes wide. "There's no way in hell you're going to confine me to?—"

"No doing anything that could exacerbate his symptoms," Reed continued, eyes narrowing on me. "And if he decides to be difficult, you can deal with him however you see fit. I won't argue."

"Good, then you can take care of him," Mona said as if she'd been waiting for one of us to say something she could jump on.

"I…what?" Reed asked, startled. He whirled around on her. "What?"

Mona smirked. "And who is he going to listen to? I could threaten him, but I like this plan better."

"He's got to work at the clinic," I protested, knowing full well the clinic would struggle if he was with me all the time to make sure I was doing what I was supposed to. "And I can't just stop being a mentor."

"Well, no, that's true, but it's good that you'll have a doctor on hand to know when you can finally be up and around, now, isn't it?" she asked brightly, gesturing toward Reed. "When he says you can work, he'll determine how, and you'll only do it when he's around to make sure your stubborn ass doesn't go overboard. Half the time you'll be in the field, and half the time you'll be here."

"Us swapping half and half, back and forth?" I asked in disbelief.

"No, him being there to keep an eye on you when you're out in the field, and then you come back here and help in the clinic with whatever they need. You may not be a doctor or nurse, but I'm sure an extra pair of hands or someone to run the front desk wouldn't be a bad thing," Mona said, her eyes finding mine but constantly going back to Reed who still had his back to me and was staring at her.

Mona's eyes eventually locked onto him, and they stared at one another without saying a word. Or at least nothing verbal. Still, I could practically feel the full-fledged argument the two had through the smallest expressions. The trouble was, I could only get one half of the conversation, and Mona was a hard read on a good day, let alone when she was keeping her cards close to her chest.

Reed's shoulders tightened before turning on me and glaring. "You better behave."

My eyes widened. "What the hell? How am I suddenly the one in hot water?"

Mona smirked. "I do believe he expects more trouble out of you than I would. Maybe I should keep an eye on you from here on out just to be safe."

"Thanks," I growled at Reed, who rolled his eyes and said nothing.

Mona pulled out her phone and checked it briefly before tucking it away. "Good, I'm glad we could settle things. Reed, take care of him, and Leon, don't get yourself more hurt, or you and I will have a talk."

I was at a total loss, something significant had just happened, and I was completely left out. It left me with the uncomfortable feeling that there was a lot more going on behind the scenes that I wasn't party to, but Reed was. Yet I couldn't hold too much against him when I had secrets I'd kept from him. I only hoped he wasn't keeping something too important from me.

"Should I bother asking?" I wondered with a raised brow.

"You should bother with feeling better," he said with a shake of his head. "You ready to get out of here?"

"I'd say yes, but how much paperwork do I have to deal with before I'm let out?"

He grinned at that. "Give me a little bit. It won't take long."

I sighed, shoulders slumping because I knew what that meant, and had to prepare myself to wait until the afternoon before I'd be free.