forthedog | (no subject)

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It hasn't made things any better. It's keeping him in bed and that's the best he thinks he can hope for right now.

At first he hadn't known what was going on; there had only been a sense of confusion and fear, people running through the halls, once or twice a faint scream. He hadn't know what was going on, and then all at once he'd come face to face with it, one of the doctors stopping and giving him a clipped explanation and then a flurry of panic and trying to get up and then some unknown time later... Chris and Lennox. And what they were carrying.

They'd put her in bed next to him. He had moved as much as he could. His leg is still painful, but moveable at least, if he's careful.

So it's happened before. So last time everyone was fine. So fucking what. This is Eostre and she's pregnant and he's fucking sick of the island doing this to him, making him feel this kind of fear.

He lies next to her and rests his head against her shoulder.

His hand hasn't left her belly in hours. He hasn't slept in he doesn't know how long. He counts his breaths and hers, and measures out the remaining time until he knows. One way or the other.

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Chris went completely silent then, letting the words sink in deep, the implications, everything they weren't fucking saying and a moment later let out a quick, dry laugh, his head shaking slowly.

"Christ," he murmured under his breath and then leaned down, brushing his lips over Eostre's forehead, her skin cool, but not too cool, not scary cool. "If she could fucking see the three of us right now," he said as he stood up straight again, plopping the stick back into its cup.

"She's be rolling her eyes a lot," Hobbes said, looking up at Cutter briefly, wry twist to his mouth. He pulled in closer to the bed, arm leaning against Pinocchio's thigh, vision partially eclipsed by Eostre's bump. He sighed quietly, not really looking anywhere.

"I just. I don't get it." He didn't know what else to say.

He's quiet still, only releasing Eostre's hand to lay his fingers over Hobbes's arm, squeezing lightly. I know. I'm sorry. It's okay.

Suddenly this feels strange, to be doing this over Eostre's sleeping body, almost like family members finally having it out at a funeral. Except not like that. Nothing like that, because there's not going to be any fucking funeral. Not for anyone.

"Don't get what?" Chris asked, glancing up just enough to look at Hobbes as his hand came to rest just over her arm again, thumb running smoothly over her skin. "The comatose thing? Nobody does. It's just the Island fucking with everyone again like it likes to do."

And whether Hobbes had meant that or not, Chris wasn't sure he cared. It was about all he was willing to focus on right now.

There's a rush of shame when Mike laid his hand over his arm: he's supposed to be the one that's comforting here, not the one needing reassurance. He raised his eyebrows at Pinocchio and stood.

"Yeah," he muttered, sliding onto the edge of the bed by Mike's feet. "Yeah, I guess that pretty much sums it up."

He wondered if one of them was going to have to piss on the bed to mark territory.

"Hey, uh, I think I'm gonna run down to the kitchen," Hobbes added, rubbing the back of his neck. "Get a sandwich or something. Want anything?"

"Something sweet." He prods the side of Hobbes's thigh with his good foot. "I think there's some mango already sliced in the fridge." And for a second he entertains the feasibility of feeding it to Eostre somehow. Maybe even chewing it first or something, birdlike. Though, he thinks maybe he'd wait for the two of them to go before even thinking about trying that.

He glances up at Chris. "What about you? Want something?"

Chris just shook his head, feeling a slow rise of guilt work its way into his stomach. He was being a dick and on one level he could recognize that, but on another... well, Eostre was in a fucking coma and he'd only wanted to check on her, check on her and Mike both and he couldn't even do that anymore without Hobbes having to show up, too.

Fuck.

"No, I'm good," he said, turning his just enough to give Hobbes a quick glance, something in his eyes that's close to an apology, but probably not quite close enough. "Thanks."

Hobbes shrugged, glancing blankly back at Cutter. Unimpressed.

"No problem." He squeezed Pinocchio's shin as he stood. "I'll be right back."

He watches Hobbes go for a few seconds, jaw working, looking like any expression at all might be possible. Then he turns to Chris and shakes his head slowly.

"I love you, I really do," he says evenly. "But you're a colossal dick, you know that?"

He felt the slow coil of guilt unravel then, anger flaring hot even as he tried to control it, his jaw tensing as he met Mike's eyes, his hand still resting lightly on Eoster's arm.

"I just came in here to check on her," Chris explained, his voice tight and clipped. "Her and you. That's all I wanted."

"Yeah, because what you want takes top priority right now," he says, and it's sarcastic, but under the sarcasm it's almost fond, in an exasperated way. "Look, I don't expect you to be best friends forever or anything. I'd settle for you being in the same room without dropping the temperature fifty fucking degrees."

The anger receded some, coiling back into that ball of guilt and he ducked his head a little, focusing on his own hand where it touched Esotre's arm.

"Yeah," he said, voice still quiet as he nodded and then swallowed a bit. He glanced up just a little, watching Mike with one eye. "I'm trying," he tried to explain, though he knew it probably sounded half-assed. "I know it probably doesn't look that way, but I am. I know what he means to you, it's just... I'm used to things how they were. I liked them that way. We all fit."

And, of course, the implication there was that Hobbes didn't fit. Which wasn't fair and probably wasn't even true, but that didn't make Chris feel any better.

"Well, they aren't that way anymore. So deal." He sighs, shakes his head again and reaches out, lays his hand over Chris's on Eostre's arm. "I know you're trying," he says. "Really. I know this is hard on you. But you have to know that it's hard on me too. I fucking care about you both, man, so sooner or later you're gonna have to able to be around each other."

Also they're all on the building crew. And while that won't be an issue for at least another few weeks, at some point he'd like Hobbes to be on the same team as him.

Not that he wants to deal with that right now, though. He has a feeling that might just be gas on the fire.

"I know," Chris replied quickly, his tone somewhat clipped as he looked Mike straight in the eyes. Hell, he wasn't a fucking child, he knew how things were now, how they'd changed and he knew he'd have to get used to it. It was just going to take time.

"Just..." he trailed off, shaking his head as he let out a slow breath, his gaze dropping to Eostre again, settling there. "I'll get there, okay?" he said, speaking to Mike, but still watching Eostre, his hand moving away from Mike's to touch her shoulder. "I'll get there."

"Hey," Hobbes said, walking up slowly this time, watching the two of them before really edging into their space. He settled the plate of sliced mango on the bedside table, wildly entertaining the idea of feeding Mike to make Cutter twitch before deciding that Pinocchio breaking his nose wasn't going to make the weekend any easier.

He'd brought back a cup of black coffee for himself and he settled on the edge of the bed, looking back and forth between Cutter and Mike. Right. So this is normal now. Wonderful.

"This entire place feels like a waiting room," he said eventually, to break the silence. "There's guys in the kitchen chuging coffee like it's water."

"I prefered the tsunami and the dinosaurs," he says dryly, picking up a piece of mango and polishing it off in one bite, his eyes falling closed and a small sound escaping him at the taste. What they've been giving him in the clinic isn't any different from the food the rest of the island eats, but some universal law of hospital food is in effect and it hasn't seemed nearly as good.

"At least then I could fucking do something." He glances down at Eostre and smiles crookedly, trying to ignore the wrench in his chest. "Even if it did get me punched in the mouth."

"I have a feeling you liked that nearly as much as the dinosaur part," Chris said, his voice still quiet and smiling only very slightly, as though afraid to say anything at all now that Hobbes was back.

The whole memory of the tsunami wasn't a good one. Not for Chris anyway. To say that he knew pretty much exactly how Mike felt right then wasn't much of an exagerration. Though, at least he'd been able to walk around even if Lennox hadn't. And at least Lennox had been concious.

The conversation mostly going over his head, Hobbes remained silent, sipping bitter coffee and settling in at the end of the bed.

"How did the dinosaurs get you punched in the mouth?" Hobbes asked, raising his eyebrows at Pinocchio. "You'd think they'd go for the mauling and eating rather than hand to hand."

"Eostre." He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and smiles, in spite of himself, in spite of everything. "Remember, she made me promise not to go near them?" He's not sure how Hobbes would forget, what with the almost getting eaten and the yelling-at he'd gotten after.

"Well, when the fence went down and they came to us and I went out with a team to heard them back, she wasn't too interested in semantics."

"Gave him one hell of a cut lip," Chris added with a smirk, his gaze darting from Eostre to Hobbes for a very brief moment before looking back to Mike again. "And yet, even after that lesson, you manage to go out and get yourself broken, man."

He was smiling as he said it, though, a wry twist of his mouth before he looked back down to Eostre again.

"He's not so much at self-preservation," Hobbes said, looking at Pinocchio hard for a moment before sliding his gaze away. He sighed.

"And all this from a fall down a hill," Hobbes went on, with apparent disbelief. He raised his eyebrows at him. "S'weird, Pinocchio. You're loosing your touch."

"It just happened." He feels himself going suddenly cold and he looks away. "I know, it was fucking embarrassing. Don't have a snappy excuse."

He wishes once again that he could just fucking open up a little, tell them, stop Hobbes looking at him like that. Like maybe he knows that something's off. But telling involves bringing it into the light, making it real. If he tells he admits that it really happened. And sad though it is... no. Not that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

For a minute there, Chris thought maybe they were heading into a more relaxed area. He was loosening up, at least, and he knew that was what Mike wanted, for Chris to get the fuck over himself. And, he was trying.

But then, Mike was the one going cold.

Chris rolled his eyes to himself and lifted his hand to smooth a finger over Eostre's forehead, like an apology.

"Glad I found you, at least," he said, his voice a murmur and it almost looked like he was talking to Eostre instead of Mike. And maybe he was. Glad he found Eostre, glad he said he'd go look for Mike, glad he'd found the bastard. Glad they were both there and safe in the clinic, that the babies were safe, that everything was safe for now.

Hobbes held Pinocchio's eyes for a moment too long after he finished speaking before shrugging and rolling his eyes. Fine. Whatever. This was him letting it be.

Hobbes looked up at Chris, eyes flicking over his face and he nodded, lips compressing.

"Yeah, I'm glad too." So for once it hadn't been him dragging Pinocchio to safety. Big deal. It shouldn't have bothered him. But somehow, the fact that it had been Cutter... "He's a heavy sonuvabitch."

And now it's his turn to feel guilty. So far he's been feeling like he's close to just grabbing them and bashing their heads together, or at least giving Chris's head a run for its money. But now he's the one taking two steps back, so what the hell.

"Guess it coulda been a lot worse," he mutters, and then he looks down at Eostre again and he swears he almost hears her. Yes it could have, you idiot, and I won't have you moping about it.

Surprising himself, he laughs, hard. "Jesus, we're all fucking hopeless," he manages. "Don't know why she puts up with any of us."