[TIER 10] IATL: Chapter 11 (Patreon)

Chase mutters his thanks and gets out the MINI at a run, heading straight for the entrance of the hospital. Blinking water from his eyes, he stuffs his hands into the pocket of his jeans, hunches up his shoulders and stamps his feet. Fuck, it's cold. He peers inside through the huge rotating glass doors. Now that he's here, he isn't sure what to do. He hesitates, biting his lips and thinks.

Okay, first, he needs to know where Gabriel is. Or what happened to him. He doesn't think hospitals allow visitors at this hour. So he'll have to figure a way out to find Gabriel. Would it look suspicious if he just went right up ahead and asked at the counter? He doesn't want to get busted. He didn't blow Baldwin just to be sent home. What to do? Chase licks his lips, wracking his brain for ideas as he peers inside. Everywhere Chase sees a patient or two strolling about, some talking to nurses, some dragging their IV drip with them.

Green eyes light up. That's it! Chase takes a deep breath and pushes through the rotating doors. The waiting area is still busy at this time of night. Enough people are loitering around that no one is paying much attention to him. Good. That is exactly what he needs. Faking nonchalance, he walks down and away from the people, slipping into one of the hallways that lead to God knows where, eyes peering into each room as he passes, twice surreptitiously trying the closed doors. He just needs to find the- AHA!

Chase sneaks into the supply closet, closes the door behind him and squints. It's too dark. He fumbles around for the light switch, blinking when he flips it. There are various items on the shelves. Chase scrounges through the small cartons lining the racks. Medical gloves. Nope. Syringes. Nope. Tapes. Nope. Where are they? He crouches down and spots a stack of boxes on the floor, underneath the last shelf and opens it. Hospital gowns. Yes! Chase steps out of his shoes and peels off his socks. Then, he pulls his damp shirt over his head and wriggles out of his jeans.

Gathering his shoes, he hides them behind a cleaning bucket in the corner. He folds his clothes into a neat pile and places them in one of the empty boxes. Then, running his fingers through his hair trying to fluff out some of the wetness in them, Chase plasters a smile on his face. He hopes this will work. Plastering himself against the door, he listens. Hearing nothing but silence and the distant murmurs, he opens it a crack. He sneaks out and closes the door behind him. Okay, now the hard part. He just needs to- WHAM!

A solid body bumps into him. Hard. He's sent flying backward onto his ass, the cold tile floor freezing against his naked ass. Combined with how sore he is, it's not a pleasant feeling. He hisses. And that's when he notices the nurse who's also sprawled on the ground opposite him, her clipboard and pen clattering away, a stunned look on her face before it's quickly replaced by concern.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you! Did I hurt you?" She rushes over to Chase, helping him up.

"Don't apologize. It's my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going," he says, a sheepish smile on his face. "I'm lost." The nurse is not convinced, fussing over him. She is quite pretty, with big brown doe eyes and long wavy black hair. He blushes when she circles behind him, very conscious of his bare ass. When she faces him again, he gives her a hesitant, shy smile.

"Hey, don't worry about it. Where are you heading to anyway? You know, we provide the call button for a purpose. You shouldn't be wandering around by yourself," she scolds, in the way a mom would. She bends down to pick up the clipboard and pen. Flipping her hair back, she cocks an eyebrow at Chase, who's awkwardly shuffling his bare feet. She smiles. "Come on, let me bring you back to your room. What's your room number? Oh, I'm Lisa by the way."

"I'm Chase. Um... I'm actually looking for my friend. I heard he was admitted today, and I was worried," he mumbles, chin tucked in. Then, trying to channel Sam's puppy dog eyes, he stares up at Lisa. "I just wanted to see him. I need to know if he's okay. I can't sleep not knowing."

Lisa's eyes soften. "I'm sorry to hear about your friend." She purses her lips, then asks. "What's his name?"

"Gabriel. Gabriel Ward," he answers, his heart quickening in his chest.

"Alright, let me see what I can do for you." Lisa motions for him to follow her and he does so immediately. She approaches the reception area, drops off her clipboard and leans over the desk to whisper to her colleague, the two of them glancing back at him. Chase's heart is beating wildly. He isn't sure if the ruse will work. He watches as the nurse behind the desk starts typing on her computer. A spark of hope blossoms in his chest. She mutters something to Lisa who nods and walks back to Chase.

"I can't tell you much about his condition since you’re not a family member but I can say that he is out of surgery and recuperating." Upon noticing Chase's palpable sigh of relief, she adds. "You can visit him tomorrow. He's on the third floor, room 3b." In a stern voice she continues, "But for now, go to bed. You both need your rest. Deal?" She holds out her hand.

"Deal," he says, shaking her hand. Chase feels bad for lying, but he needs to see Gabriel. Plus, he isn't a patient here and therefore has no room to go back to. Despite Lisa's reassurance, he still couldn't shake off the residual fear and panic. The images of Gabriel covered in blood, motionless and still, so close to Death's door keeps him on edge. Unsettled. Urgent. He knows he won't be able to rest until he sees it for himself that Gabriel is okay. That Chase hadn't lost him.

Smiling wide, Lisa mock-scolds. "Now go up to your room before I kick your ass." She makes a shooing motion with her hands and Chase smiles. "Thank you so much for your help, Lisa. It means a lot," he says, grateful. The day's exhaustion is beginning to weigh down on Chase. The sudden relief and Lisa's kindness is the last straw. Unable to stop it, a slew of emotion washes over him. His eyes start to well up, and Chase clenches his jaw trying to prevent them from falling.

"Hey, hey... What's with the waterworks? Chase, I'm glad that I could help." Putting her hands on his shoulder, she massages his neck with her thumbs and forefingers. She looks him in the eyes and cracks a smile. It's kind and gentle. Somehow, she reminds Chase of his mom.

Without thinking, he wraps his arms around her waist, pulls her in and hugs her, nuzzling his head at the juncture where neck meets shoulder. To her credit, Lisa takes his breakdown like a champ, staying silent and hugs him back, patting his head. They stand like that for a while before Chase pulls away, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands.

"Sorry. It's just been a long day," he mumbles, not daring to look at Lisa. The knots in his chest loosen a little but now he's feeling hot in the cheeks. He can't believe he broke down like that and basically force-hugged this nice lady.

"It's fine," Lisa says, her hands still on his shoulder. She gives him a light squeeze and lets go. "Go and get some rest, Chase. You'll feel better after a good night's sleep. Trust me, my son, Ben is a grumpy little thing when he doesn't get enough naps," she huffs, smiling.

"You have a son?" Chase asks voice only a tinge of roughness. At Lisa's nod, he adds. "He must be real lucky to have you as his mom." Lisa blushes. Then, she gestures to herself. "Single working mom. Night shifts." She exhales. "I try." Her eyes look tired. He can see the subtle lines on her young face, and he feels a pang.

"You tried. And that's all that matters," he says sincerely, feeling the words ring true. The corner of Lisa's lips turns up. Chase glances towards the elevator. "I better get back. Don't want you to get in trouble." He starts to walk away when Lisa's fingers around his wrist stop him. He turns around, confused.

"If you need anything, anything at all, Chase, don't be afraid to ask. Get well soon." She gives Chase one last bright smile and waves, walking back to her colleagues.

With a small smile on his face, Chase presses the button to go up by the elevator. As he stares at the small blinking light descent from the fifth floor, the smile on his face falters. Something about what Lisa had said niggles at him. It's not like he's scared to ask for help, he's afraid for those he asked help from.

He's new in town. He doesn't know anybody. He doesn't know who to trust. The last time he even hinted at what’s going on at the home, his guidance counsel got the ax. Lisa had been kind to him. The last thing he wants is for her to get messed up in his shit.

He had thought about running before. Many times. But what can a teenager with a six years old do? With no money, just the clothes on his back, he couldn't run far. And then what? He hasn't even graduated high school. What the fuck can he do? He'll end up on the streets in no time. And what about Sam? He's only six. He needs a home. School. Stability. Everything Chase can't provide. So his best choice is to stay put. He'll be eighteen in five months. That's a long ass time. It's only been three weeks, and he can already feel himself disintegrating, bit by bit. How far can he go before he loses himself entirely?

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Chase stumbles in, shoulder slouched and presses the button with the number three on it. He leans back and watches the blip of light travel from one button to the next. The thought that he'll have to whore himself out for another five months is depressing.

But it's not just that. It feels like he's balancing on the precipice of safety and death. He couldn't give two shits about what happened to him. But every moment he stays at the home, he's gambling Sam. How much longer before Lucas caves and gives in to Alastair's demands? The son of a bitch had been heavily hinting. What is he going to do when they decide to sell Sam? Chase wouldn't be able to protect Sam, and it would be too late to do anything. The thought terrifies him.

The elevator dings again, and he steps out. Looking around, he follows the sign that says 1-5 with a small arrow beside it pointing to the right. When he comes across the number 3 sign, he turns into the hallways. His heart quickens as he passes room 3a. There are five rooms in this hallway. Two on the right and three on the left. Gabriel's room is the one at the end on the right. Feeling slightly nauseated from nerves, Chase turns the doorknob and enters.

It's a two person's room with a large glass window at the back. Chase could hear the rain splattering against the windows as the storm continued outside. The curtains to the beds are drawn, the beep of monitors loud in the almost silent room. Hesitating for only a moment, he tiptoes to the first bed. Peering through the gap in the curtain, he notices a skinny young boy with blond hair curling around his face.

Stepping back, he approaches the other bed, his bare feet silent on the tiled floor. His fingers feel numb. There's a light tremble to them, and he clenches his fists before pushing the curtain aside. Slipping inside, he turns around, his back towards Gabriel and closes the curtain. He closes his eyes and breathes in steadily, his forehead touching the plastic curtain. In his mind, he counts to three. One, two, three. He opens his eyes and turns around. Then, he stares. And stares.

Gabriel is lying in the hospital bed, hooked onto a multitude of wires. He looks so small and fragile, covers up to his chin, his arms resting atop them, by his side. Bruises littered his body or at least the part he could see anyway. Greenish black spots marred his pale skin, along his arm, and around his wrists. There's a bandage on the side of his neck and what looks like finger-shaped bruises. Chase swallows the lump in his throat.

He slips into the chair by the bed, leaning forward onto his knees. Gabriel's hair is sticking up everywhere around the white bandage on his head. He seems to be asleep, dreaming, his thick lashes fluttering against his cheekbones. His heart clenched as he took Gabriel's face.

The swelling around his eyes had worsened, and they look painful. There's a bandage on his nose too, and the bruises around it look the same. Purple reddish. His eyes fall on Gabriel's lips. The soft lips he'd kissed just last night. It's split in some places and chapped.

Feeling the now very familiar sting in his eyes, he rubs at his face then pinches the bridge of his nose. Goddammit! He's a freaking crybaby today, isn't he? He squeezes his eyes shut and feels the tears roll down his cheeks. He can't help the soft whine that comes out. He stays like that for a moment, trying to regain his composure. When he's certain he's not going to break down crying again; he opens his eyes and freezes. Inky blue eyes are staring right at him.

---

Lucas slams the front door shut with a loud bang. He doesn't care if it'll wake the children up, he's livid. Gabriel had woken up terrified, and no matter how much he tried to placate him, the boy wouldn't stop crying. For some reason, that grated on his nerves. His presence alone should have calmed Gabriel. But instead, Gabriel had looked at him with such profound sadness, betrayal that Lucas felt his hackles raised, his defense stacked up.

Unable to deal with the shattered look directed at him, Lucas changed tactics. He wanted to know more about the assault anyway. But that's when Gabriel freaked. He almost went into a cardiac arrest from how fast his heart had been beating, the beeps on the machine went at a galloping pace. The doctor and nurses managed to stabilize him, but it had been a close call.

Of course then, they had both been kicked out. Reprimanded and admonished. Temper flying high but not wanting to cause more of a scene, Lucas had taken his leave. Now that he's home, he wants to break things. He glares at the empty living room. It's past midnight and the clients he scheduled tonight are long gone. The children should be asleep. He strips off his coat and throws it onto the couch. He needs to vent out his anger.

If it were an ordinary night, he would have reached out to Gabriel. The boy has a calming effect on him. But at the same time, he also incites this anger in him. A dark, ugly, twisted thing that writhes around inside him waiting to strike. He doesn't wish to dwell on these feelings too much, knowing the can of worms that would open. And he's not equipped to deal with that. He can't. Not yet. So he buries them deep and lets his instincts play.

Gordon. Gabriel's last word before he passed out was Gordon. Before they left, Zael had gone to see the medical personnel who had performed the rape kit on Gabriel. According to her, there were semen in and on his body and judging from the quantity, she estimated it to be from multiple donors. She also found defensive wounds on Gabriel's arms and skin fiber from under his nails, all of which she had collected and sent to the lab for analysis. Unfortunately, it will take a day or two before results will be back and then it'll be another long wait to see if they'll match anyone on CODIS. Right now, their only lead is the name. Gordon.

Zael had promised to run Gordon's name through the database. With this degree of violence, he's convinced the man would have a record somewhere. If the MO matched any opened or closed cases, they would know. They have a picture of him as well, so it will make identifying him easy. Zael also sent word to Alastair to inquire about the name Gordon on the streets. But again, all these will also take time. And that's what pisses Lucas most right now. The fact that some fucker assaulted Gabriel, and there is nothing he can do about it but wait around, fiddling his thumbs.

He storms into his office, determined to do some digging himself. He has sources. He could find that bastard. He slams the door open, the distant light from the hallway casting a weak beam into the dark room. Unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt, he flips on the light switch. And his heart stops.

Sitting behind his desk is a man. He is staring up at Lucas with sparkling blue eyes beneath long black lashes. His lips curl up into a small smirk, raven black hair a stark contrast to his creamy pale skin. In his hand is a Colt with a silencer on it, pointing straight at Lucas's heart.

"Hello, Lucas."