crashlikethunder | Law man has put an end to my running and I'm so far from my home.

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debut,
eden mccain

Law man has put an end to my running and I'm so far from my home.

If he expected to wake up at all, it was in a hospital bed, clinging to life while strapped to a bunch of shit creating a soundtrack of high-pitched beeping that would threaten to send him over the edge, making him even crazier than that trapeze artist who once tricked him into break-up sex only to try to squeeze the breath from him between her impressively toned thighs. Such was his reward for selflessly offering to take the first turn.

Instead, he comes to slumped in the window seat in a fancy train car the likes of which he's only seen in very old movies. He wasn't even sure these things ran anymore except from coast to coast, and sure as hell not departing from anywhere near Schenectady. His best theory is that Robin found him somehow, dragged his ass onto the first train out and they're on the run now, headed away from his son and Ro at fuck-all miles per hour. And if that's the case, he just might shoot Robin this time, 'cause that wasn't his choice to make and it definitely wasn't the one Luke would have made for himself. He almost thinks that looking at the same three walls and sixteen vertical bars in that jail cell for the next however many years might be worth the occasional visit from his son. With his kid in the rearview, there's nothing the west could offer him now. He makes to get up and find that son of a bitch Robin, to see if he can finally drill that into his fucking head, but trying to sit up sends a sharp wave of agony through his right side, reaching deep down someplace where he's never felt more than the occasional pang of hunger. He grunts and collapses back into the seat, gagging and panting like he's just run a 5K.

It takes him what feels like at least half an hour to lift himself onto his feet, then another ten minutes to haul himself the few feet down the aisle to wait by the door. Between then and the time it takes for the train to reach whatever station it finally rolls into, he guesses it's been an hour since he first woke, and he's feeling lightheaded and weak as he stumbles onto the platform, reluctantly beginning to accept that his only option now is to find an emergency room. The front of his coveralls are soaked through with more blood than he knew he had. He starts walking toward the information kiosk at a snail's pace, each step exerting him more than every weight-lifting session he's ever endured, and after only five measly steps he's falling forward onto the ground, wheezing. He realizes, vaguely, how strange it is that the train car was entirely empty, and that there not be another soul on the platform in what looks like the middle of the afternoon. He doesn't know how he got away from that cop and that house, from the whole damn town, but if he makes it through this injury, he might just be home free. The cop couldn't have had any time to make his face, it all happened to fast; if he survives, he could sneak back into town without anyone the wiser. Suddenly, there's nothing else for him to do but to make it out of this alive and get back to Jason and Ro, 'cause if he's getting this second chance, it must be for a reason. For that reason.

Fighting through the blinding pain, Luke makes yet another attempt to climb back onto his feet, grunting as loud as he will since no one's around to hear either way. And if someone is, shit, even he's not pigheaded enough to deny that he could use their help right now.

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Eden swings by the station from time to time, just to see if any new strays have happened along, but today, she doesn't even mean to stop in. There's a little vintage shop up the road she wants to visit instead. The minute she passes by the archway into the station, though, that plan comes to an end.

She hears the man before she sees him, sounds of exertion and pain that bring her hurrying into the station, still half-blind from walking out of the sunlight. For a little while, she can't see him at all, walking towards the train for lack of any other direction, and then she spots him. More than that, she sees the blood on the ground under him as he tries to stand. "Hey, careful, careful," she says, moving to take his arm. "Don't push yourself. Easy."

If he's here, she thinks, he has to be new. She knows far too well how it feels to show up bleeding in a new world. From the looks of him, though, she's not sure how much longer he'll last here.

If he had the presence of mind, he would thank his lucky stars — and he's beginning to think they may be very lucky indeed, in spite of his current condition, because by his count there were cuffs in his future only moments ago — that whoever just came to help steady him was wise enough not to reach for his right arm, where even the slightest stretch or pull would have him passing out from the pain.

She. Whoever just grabbed him is a she, her voice tells him, and it's a beautiful, soft voice. Not as beautiful as Ro's when he asked her to sing something in Spanish (she chose one of the lullabies she sings to Jason and said nothing when his own tears spilled onto her naked shoulder) but a far cry from the persistent barking of the cop on the other side of the bedroom door. He thinks of Ro now, and more importantly of Jason, of how impossibly perfect he is. It numbs him to the pain some, at least enough to speak. "W-where?" He asks weakly.

It takes Eden a moment even to register what she's been asked, a little longer still to know how to respond. She's more intent on helping him than on introducing him to the city, and it catches her off guard to have to do both. "Darrow," she says, shrugging off her sweater. "Easy, easy. Just lie still, alright? I'm going to call an ambulance."

Before that, though, she folds her sweater and presses it against the wound. It's thick enough to keep her from getting her hands soaked with blood, something she's not sure she could bear up under just now. A little here and there, she expects, but too much of it on her hands and she doubts she'd be able to stay calm like she needs to. Much as she likes her sweater, though, he needs something to staunch the blood flow. "Can you hold that in place while I call?" she asks, fumbling for the phone in her jeans pocket with one hand. "Good and tight."

Luke does as told, too weak and dazed to object or push further, though it still plagues him that he doesn't know where he is or how he got here. Those thoughts depart for the back of his mind for now, his own mortality a more urgent concern. He's been relatively sure until now that he's fine, just needs to be patched up and get some rest and he'll be good to go, but the way that she looks at him makes him wonder, worry even. From the ground, he watches her dial, clutching his fingers around the soft, soaked cloth of her sweater. He feels like shit for having ruined it; it was a nice sweater. He bets she really liked it.

Her heart is beating far too fast, but Eden manages to keep her fingers steady enough at least to dial 911. With slow, deep breaths, she tries to school her expression into something calmer, determined not to make this worse than it is. All she can do is make the call and stay with him until the ambulance comes. Already, though, with his not knowing where he is, that doesn't feel like enough.

"Hello?" she says as soon as she hears a voice on the other end. "Hi, yes, I need an ambulance. Right away. We're at the train station. No, not for me, there's — there's a man here. He's been shot or stabbed or... Yes, thank you. Alright, thank you." She hangs up and sets her phone aside, and for just a moment, she hesitates before reaching over to help apply pressure. That he was shot is the first thing that occurs to her, but the moment she said it, she knew she couldn't be sure, that it was only in her head that this was a natural assumption. She smiles at him, aiming for reassuring. Until they get here, she has to make sure he stays conscious. "They're going to be here very soon. We just have to wait a couple minutes, okay? What's your name?"

The more that she smiles, the more he's convinced he's going to die. It's not her fault, she's clearly doing her best, but she's trying so hard to make it seem better, Luke just ends up thinking he's going to be the opposite of okay. He has a mind to confirm that her first guess was correct and he was shot, not stabbed, but he keeps mum, not even objecting to her calling the cops when she does, though it probably means the end of the line for him. Even jail is a less permanent ending than death, although from the time he's spent behind bars, he's thinking the small difference will quickly cease to matter. Especially with Jason on the other side. He doubts Ro would bring him in even for the occasional visit, not that he can blame her. In the end, he'll always hate himself most.

"Luke," he coughs in response, grateful for small favors when he doesn't taste blood in his mouth. Bruce Willis flicks have taught him that it's generally a bad sign.

"Luke," Eden says. There's no chance she'll forget that, but repeating it back is habit, to ensure that remains the case. She keeps her gaze locked on his face, refusing to look at where he's been hurt, not for his sake but for her own. Her fingers are warm and sticky, blood slick beneath her palm, and it's terrifying both for what it means for him and because of everything it brings to mind.

"Well, Luke, I'm Eden." Her heart is beating fast enough to be painful now, cheeks feeling as if they're stretched taut, over-warm. If she didn't have to help him, she wouldn't be able to deal with this half as well. But then, if she didn't have to help him, she wouldn't have to deal with it all. Either way, she won't let herself be shaken badly enough to lose focus, not yet. "Try and focus on me, alright? The ambulance will be here soon. But before they get here, you need to know, wherever you were before, you're not there now. Okay? You're in a city called Darrow. The EMTs, doctors, they won't have answers for you. I don't really either, but I can try and answer your questions when you're feeling a little better." It's always been her way to follow up with those she greets. When he's shown up here in this state, that just makes it even more important that she do so.

Each intake of frantic, heaving breath is more taxing than the next, coming to Luke with a rattle of his bones and fresh sting in his side. He tries to focus on her, but it's become harder by the minute, his eyes refusing to focus on any one object so that every few seconds, her large, kind eyes blur into the rest of her face and the only crisp image is that of the light fixtures above her. He's half blind when his eyes finally adjust again and a haze of bright light hovers over her like a halo. "You look like an angel," he says, having barely heard what she said to him. He knows it was meaningful, which is of some comfort. If he's going to die, though, in the grasp of an angel seems the best way to do it. "Hey," he coughs, gasping from the pain of it. It's a while before he can try again, and by then, he can hear the sirens that must be on their way here. "Hey," he starts again, huffing each word with great personal effort, "Watch over Jason, okay? Please. Please, just, just make sure he's okay."

It shakes her to hear, and she wants to protest, no, she's nothing like an angel. It seems too ominous, too much like he's saying she was too late, and though Eden doesn't think it's what he means at all, it hits hard.

"Okay," she says, though she doesn't have the first clue who he means. Her hand slips over the sweater to find his, doubtful she has any comfort to give, intent on trying all the same. "Alright. I'll take care of Jason. Where do I find him?" Not here, she's sure, but she isn't about to correct him now. If he's dying, she doesn't want to take away whatever shred of hope he's holding onto at the end. If he's not, they'll have a chance to sort it out later. She tries hard not to think about which is likelier.

The sirens are getting louder, closer, until it sounds almost as if they'll drive right into the station, but she doesn't look away. They'll be here very soon, and until they are, she's not going to move.

If she were a real angel, odds are that she would know where to find Jason, but Luke is nowhere near alert enough to come to that realization. Instead, he tries to find it in himself to speak again, to tell her she can find him in Schenectady, but he can't remember Ro's address. He remembered it for a full year after the fact, but now that he really, truly needs to, it won't come to him. New beads of sweat form along his palms and forehead, down to the small of his back, and he can't breathe anymore so much as pant, each gasp for air a fresh stab shooting through him. He can't breath, he can't remember, he can't get back to Jason.

You're never gonna see him again. Ro's words echo in his mind like it's a vast and empty space, and then he loses consciousness, fading from light to black, to a dream where he's in the Garden of Eden and each bite of the apple makes him bleed red, red, red.

Edited 2013-05-16 12:35 (UTC)

Eden waits. For hours, she sits in the designated room, the one they won't let her past, sipping lukewarm coffee. She doesn't have to be here, she reminds herself. She could come back and check in later.

No one should have to wake up alone. No one should have to face such a monumental change as leaving one's own world all alone. He shouldn't have to wake up after this alone either.

A nurse tells her when he's out of surgery, and it doesn't take much to persuade them she should be allowed to wait in the room. She can't even feel bad about it. If she'd known more than his first name, she would have tried to lie her way through it instead, but this is her only option, and it's for a good reason. Waiting in a chair by his bed, she closes her eyes and tries to relax, rattled nerves starting to ease now that he's safe and there's no more blood on her hands, nothing left to shake her but the echo of a gunshot in the back of her head. It's deafening at such close range.

He can't stop biting the apple, over and over, until he's gushing an ocean, not of crimson but a deep wine red, like the blood of Christ, though he knows inherently that you couldn't get a buzz off of this if you tried. Before long, Luke is swimming in it, and then he's drowning, gasping for breath until the taste of copper swallows him as he tries to swallow it, the smell of it shooting up his nostrils like a drug in dense, liquid form. He wakes with a jolt and tears a tender stitch from heaving.

The next two times that Luke wakes are much the same, although he can't remember those dreams so well and his wound doesn't rip open after the first time. Finally, he comes to with a start, eyes snapping wide open, but remains otherwise calm. With more clarity than he ought to have, Luke reaches for the tube pumping oxygen into him and tries to pull it loose with his left hand while his right reaches tenderly across to pull the IV needle from his inner elbow. Whatever pain meds they have him on seem to be working but for a dull ache in his side, and he realizes they've probably got him on the non-addictive shit or he wouldn't feel so alert. It wouldn't be the first time that doctors mistook him for an addict, and he's sure it looked something like a drug shooting when he came in. How could they know that Luke goes for an entirely different kind of speed?

Eden drifts in and out of half-sleep, a novel in her lap that she'd been carrying in her purse. It doesn't hold her attention, though. The whole situation came out of nowhere, and she ran on pure adrenaline for those brief minutes before the ambulance arrived, then on stress in the waiting room. It's taken a surprising lot out of her, left her starting to crash. That he's alright makes it worthwhile, though. It's an adventure, she's told herself, something different to throw her week off its usual stride.

Eyes closed, she hears him shifting on the bed, not for the first time, though this time it continues longer. Blinking hard, she pushes herself to sit upright, groggy, pulling a deep breath into her heavy lungs. "Hey," she says. "Come on, you shouldn't do that."

Startled, Luke jumps as much as is possible for a man in a hospital bed strapped to at least three different machines. One of them has a monitor on which a lime green line zigs and zags erratically, which he knows from television indicates that his heart is pounding, though he didn't need the screen to tell him that much. He wants to throw her words back in her face, tell her she shouldn't do that either, shouldn't talk to him like he's a fucking kid who doesn't know what's best for him. There's a big difference, he wants to explain, between not knowing and not caring. One look at her, though, is all it takes to quench the righteous fire burning inside of him.

"Eden," he says, surprised to have remembered even that much, though the mere sight of her has begun to bring back more and more. He remembers the train station now, the dull lighting coming down from the ceiling, the blaring sirens, the face of an angel. His cheeks burn red, and guilt for what he put this perfect stranger through gives way to embarrassment at what he remembers saying in a haze of blood loss. He has the terrible feeling that he isn't even remembering the worst of it yet.

By the time he drops his hands, the tubes have fallen to the side of the bed and he's breathing on his own, but he leaves the needle jutting haphazardly out of his arm.

"Sorry, sorry," Eden says quietly. "I didn't mean to startle you." She's only half-awake herself, setting her book on the floor before she pushes to her feet, a little wobbly, and steps to the side of his bed. What should be done about the needles, she doesn't know. Probably she ought to call a nurse or something, but she doesn't want to put him through that right away.

She leans against the side of the bed, biting her lip. Now that he's awake, she finds herself unexpectedly self-conscious. It didn't seem right for him to wake up alone in the hospital in a new city, but now she wonders if he'll find it more unsettling still that some stranger stayed here waiting to be sure he was okay. "How are you feeling?"

He doesn't think she knows what a loaded question it is for him, and so Luke can't hate her for asking. Physically, he doesn't feel half as bad as he ought to, thanks in large part, he's sure, to the drugs they have him on, even if they aren't the strongest around. The throb in his side is becoming more pronounced by the minute, but he expects that only means that he's due another dose soon. Emotionally, he doesn't have a fucking clue what he's feeling, except a gross and aching lack, a void where Jason should be that hurts more than any physical injury he suffered.

"I'm alive," he finally goes with. It means not having to lie. "Where am I?" He asked her once already but he was in no condition to remember her answer. What he does remember is a train station, a ring of light, and a rocky ride in an ambulance with sirens blaring.

Eden nods, giving him a small, sad smile, and reaches to rest her hand lightly on his. She can't imagine what he's feeling now or thinking, but she knows what it's like to arrive out of nowhere, bloody and lost and terrified, to not know the answer to that question, to have no other words but I'm alive.

"Darrow," she says quietly. "I know it sounds crazy, but we're not in your world anymore. Or mine. There are a few of us who came here on the train and don't know how."

He sits up at once, fighting muscles so stiff and bones so tired that not a few soft cracks accompany the movement. "My world?" He left it behind a while back, thinks Luke, when he quit on Jay and decided to shack up in Robin's trailer, living the suburban life out in Schenectady. It was everything he had ever feared, the life he had never wanted — Luke was never a man of great aspirations until it came time to provide for his son, yet he always had something akin to an anti-aspiration, a steadfast dedication to never settling down in one place. His world was one of constant motion, but he gave that up for Jason and never looked back, so he isn't quite sure what she means, or how she could know that much about him at all.

"Wherever you were before here," Eden answers. She has to beat back the urge to shush him, to tell him to lie back and rest. Under circumstances like these, no matter how smart it would be for him to do so, she can understand how impossible it would feel to relax. "You won't be able to go back. I'm sorry."

She doesn't know if he liked what he had or not, but she remembers his earlier plea, that she take care of Jason. Whoever that is or whatever he means to Luke, it's one thing he won't be happy to leave behind, and for that, she couldn't be sorrier. It's hard to leave a life unfinished. "There's no way out of town."

"What are you talking about? I came here on a fuckin' train." But Luke is more confused than anything else, and there is no bite to his words. Despite himself, because he has never been someone who gives easily to trust, nor is he a man with a great many people who can be called close, he trusts her, or wants to, which amounts to the same. She saved his life, and he feels that he owes her that, at least. Right now, it's all that he has to give. But he doesn't understand what she is saying; he's always been the sort to know all his exits before getting involved, and leaving is so natural to him, he can't comprehend it not being a possibility.

"I know," Eden reminds him gently. At least, she figured, having found him in the station. Being faced with these questions always hurts a little, truthfully. She never knows how to make everything firmly clear without being cruel or making it harder to bear an already difficult thing. "Most people do. Those of us from out of town, anyway. I've tried, though. You get on the train, you just end up back at the station. It's like something out of the Twilight Zone."

"Fuck the train, then," says Luke, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. He doesn't know why she would lie to him, especially given the lie itself, but he isn't about to believe her blindly either. "I'll drive back. Fuck it, I'll spring for a plane ticket." He can certainly afford it. That's when he remembers the money. Sitting up even further, cringing past the pain, he glances around the room, frantic as a drugged man can possibly be. "Where's the bag I had? It was on me in the station. Where is it?"

"Shh," Eden says, resting a hand on his arm for a moment. "Luke, please." Stranger or not, she cares, she always cares, wants badly to make sure people are okay. He's going to hurt himself if he isn't careful. Stepping away from the bed, she ducks down to pull the bag out from under the chair. "It's here. It's right here. A plane won't get you out of here either. Nothing will take us out of town, not people like you and me."

He fixes her — Eden, he keeps forgetting and remembering — with a serious glare, then, as if this were life and death. It nearly was. "Did you open it?" he asks, his voice low, that way that it only is when a man brings up a shared secret. He has to know it if is that, shared, or if she doesn't have a clue what she holds in her hands. He doesn't know why she wouldn't look; he would have.

Eden arches an eyebrow. "No," she says. She can guess it's something important. Even before the way he just acted, she could tell it was something other than clothes and personal belongings. Her curiosity's been difficult to battle, but resisting temptation is a habit she practices surprisingly well. "I don't pry into people's secrets. I wait to have them shared."

Which she hopes he'll do, but if he doesn't, then it's none of her business. She didn't save him just to find out what he was carrying around, and a person's secrets are a sacred thing.

This surprises Luke, not only because she says that she didn't look but because he believes her when she does. Most people would have, he has no doubt of that, and he doesn't understand her motivation for respecting his secrets when she hardly knows him. He has never had a particularly strong moral compass, nor has he needed one, forming as few bonds over the years as he has. Without question, he knows that he would have looked, were he in her position, and not even realized it was an invasion of privacy. Yet another level of guilt to feel towards Eden, whose kindness he really doesn't deserve. "Sorry," he mumbles, feeling like shit as he plays his own words back in his head and hears the accusation in his own tone. It's a wonder she hasn't marched out already.

Eden looks away for a moment, fingers tapping against the sheet. Though it angers her that he would think that of her, that she'd just dig around in his stuff, there's a part of her that can't stay mad, because of course he would. God knows she's been less than trustworthy in the past. That he has no way of knowing that doesn't have much to do with it, her mind processes it that way all the same. The days when she lived like that may be long behind her, but sometimes she still feels like a liar, a thief.

"No," she says softly, glancing over. He means it, she's sure, and that's enough for her. "No, it's fine. You don't know me. Why should you trust me?"

"'Cause you saved my life," says Luke simply. It sounds stupid to his ears, but he finds, as he says it, that he almost believes it. He doesn't know much about trusting, himself. He's more familiar with breaking it and letting others down. Still, he can't imagine a more trustworthy action than saving a man's life. She's earned something from him. Gratitude doesn't seem like enough.

Eden glances away. For a moment, breathing seems painfully difficult. In the strictest sense, she knows it's true. If she hadn't been there, he might well have bled out on that train platform, and it's hard to tell herself someone else would have stepped in. The place was deserted earlier, and he didn't have very long. That doesn't make it any easier to believe it.

"I called an ambulance," she says softly. "Anyone would've. I'm just glad I was there."

He should say that he's glad she was there, too. It's what anyone who isn't a complete fuckwit would say. Luke isn't sure that it would be true, though, and it doesn't seem right to pay her back for helping him by lying to her face. He almost laughs, wondering he started caring about what's right. Though he's heard it said that a near death experience will change anyone, he doesn't feel very different at all. Same asshole that he's always been, down one reason to live.

"You don't have to stay, you know." He can only imagine that she's still here out of some sense of obligation and that seems, to him, fucking crazy.

"I know," Eden says, shrugging. She doesn't know him from Adam; there's nothing to keep her here, not technically. But she doesn't like to leave people in the lurch when they wind up here, and that's just the people who don't show up dangerously close to death. It's a choice, one based on her own vivid memory of how frightening a situation that can be.

Anyway, there's a difference between not having to and not wanting to. Head tipping to the side, she looks at him curiously. "Do you want me to leave?"

It's a question that he should take time to consider. Instead, he answers immediately, without pause. "I think you should," Luke says, unfocused eyes staring straight ahead. He doesn't think it through, which is nothing new for him. The instant sense of regret greets him like an old friend, one he doesn't particularly like but knows he won't ever be rid of. It will be for the best, anyway. The next dose will knock him out and he'll either wake up from this wild dream or he won't wake up at all. Either way, there's no reason for her to wait around.

"Okay," Eden says. She worries, briefly, that she's overstepped her bounds here, but it doesn't matter, she decides. She really should head home anyway, and the staff will keep an eye on him. Either way, he's going to be alright now, or she hopes he will. If he doesn't want her to stick around, well, he has no particular reason to.

Still, as she gathers up her book and slips it into her purse, she stops to find a pen, jotting down her number on a notepad by the bed. "If you need a friend in town," she says, "give me a call. Bye, Luke."

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Law man has put an end to my running and I'm so far from my home.

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