trashchildren | For Joan

The apology pains her, and she wonders how much he might blame himself for what happened to him. "It's okay," she says, taking his hand and squeezing it as she runs his shoulder. "You don't have to apologize. You haven't done anything wrong."

She touches his cheek, then strokes his hair.

"It's okay," she murmurs. "You're okay."

He doesn't blame himself nearly as much as others might... but definitely still a little bit. There's some doubt niggling at how trusting he is. How his insight won't always protect him in time.

After the combination of the loss and kidnapping, he's also felt the return of that doubt that Richmond would in fact be better off with a different coach. A part of him wondering if he'll ever feel ready to return to the team. He always gets back up when he gets knocked down, but he's never been knocked down as hard as this, and it may take some time.

He leans into her, calming down little by little, but still in quite noticeable pain, that frown staying on his face.

She would totally understand that doubt. She knows he's swam upstream in Richmond for so long. It must be tiring, but he was making terrific headway, convincing the players and the fans. To have a sudden, catastrophic flood like this mentally wash him back to the beginning? It can't be easy to pick himself up again and go forward. Luckily he has the people around him to hold him and help him. Beard and Rebecca and his teammates. And Joan herself.

She wraps her arms around him, kissing his hair. She can tell he's in pain.

"Do you want me to call the nurse? They can give you more painkillers. It might help you sleep."

He just nods a little at the question. They mentioned they might give him an IV later on, after assessing how bad the pain was, and also making sure that they were drugging away pain that might be a sign of something worse being wrong. But hopefully by now, they can do that.

She strokes his hair and kisses his temple, then reaches for the call button.

The nurse arrives fairly quickly, and doesn't say anything about Joan being in bed with Ted, which Joan appreciates greatly.

"What can I do for you, love?" she asks Ted.

"Hey," Ted greets, lifting his head a little bit not sitting up properly. "Sorry for not getting up, but I'm quite a bit of pain here," he says with a strained smile. That apology is a joke though.

She smiles at him and promises they're going to fix that in a minute, but first she wants to ask him some questions. And he gets to describe where the pain is and how bad it is, whether it's constant or just when he moves, all of that. His leg is probably the worst by now, but the headache has lessened a lot, which is apparently a good sign.

Eventually they get him hooked up, and she explains this will also help him keep hydrated, but he should still drink water, which he promises to do. He thanks her and lets her know he appreciates her - and her find medicine - and the pain starts going away again. With it also goes the tension in his shoulders.

Joan holds him the whole time, listening to him describe his pain, knowing what the nurse is screening for with each one. She feels for him, because the sort of pain he's going through sucks, but she's also reassured, because the descriptions tell both her and the nurse that Ted's injuries are probably not life threatening. The pain in his head subsiding reassures Joan that his brain, while bruised, isn't bleeding.

Joan holds his hand and strokes his hair as the nurse inserts the IV. As he relaxes against her she kisses his head.

"I'm right here," she whispers. "You can sleep. I've got you."

Ted nods a bit and smiles at Joan, grateful for her comfort and... Well, grateful for her.

"It's alright, you know," he reassures her quietly. "I've broken stuff before, I can deal with that part." He knows she's worried about him, but there's a limit to how much worry she needs to carry.

"I know," she says, smiling a little at his concern. "I'm not worried about that part. I just want to make sure you know you're safe. If you'd rather I give you more space, that's totally fine."

Part of her just wants to hold him and keep him safe, the part of her that wishes she could have protected him from the start and stopped this from even happening. But she also recognizes that he might not want her to be so protective.

He shakes his head a little. "No, I like you being here," he answers and smiles softly.

Eventually he'll probably be alright being left on his own, but for right now at least, knowing that someone he knows and loves is looking out for him really helps put him at ease.

Part of him hopes that she's not just doing it out of guilt, but no, he knows that's not the case. Whatever Turner tried to convince him, he knows that Joan loves him.

He eyes shine a bit as he looks at her, with that same affection and admiration as he often does, and he leans in and kisses her softly.

She smiles back. "I like being here," she answers softly. He had said that the man who kidnapped him had told him that nobody really cared about him, and she wants to reinforce what he probably already knows: that what the man said was a lie, and Joan cares about him very much.

She wonders if he remembers her telling him she loves him. It's possible he doesn't, in which case Joan doesn't want to complicate things. He's going to live, and she wants to preserve this comfortable affection for now, so she doesn't have to risk creating a rift in case he doesn't feel the same way for her and cannot say the words back to her.

Her own eyes are full of love, however, as she gazes back at him, seeing that affection and admiration of his shining back at her. She closes her eyes as their lips meet, and kisses him back, just as softly.

When the kiss ends, he doesn't pull back, instead just leaning his forehead against hers, eyes closed. Just resting there for a moment, feeling much more at peace.

After a few moments there's a gentle knock on the door, and Ted opens his eyes to see Beard.

"Sorry for disturbing," he says.

"No, it's alright, what's up?" Ted reassures immediately.

"I, uh, called Michelle and let her know you were in the hospital. Her and Henry are flying over as soon as they can."

There's an immediate relief apparent in Ted's body. The thought of getting to see Henry again was one of the things that kept him going. "Thanks, coach," Ted says softly and smiles at him, and Beard smiles back.

"Anything I can get for you guys?" Beard offers, looking at Joan as well.

That moment of their foreheads resting against each other, just breathing together, is beautiful, and Joan's heart is so full it almost hurts to not just say what she's feeling. She reaches up to touch his cheek...

Then Beard's knock breaks her out of the reverie and she looks up to see him there. She gives him a faint smile, maybe a touch sheepish but only a little.

Then he gives his news, and Joan sees how relieved and happy Ted is that his ex-wife and son are coming. A tiny seed of doubt buries itself in Joan's mind. She knows it's silly, because of course he's going to want to see his family, particularly his son. But there's still that tiny bit of doubt, that maybe he loves them more than he cares for her, and would be happier with them.

She brushes the thought away easily as silly.

This time.

"I'm fine," Joan says, and gives Beard a smile. "Thank you."

"I think I'm good," Ted agrees.

"Alright. Rebecca went home while you were asleep, to try to make sure the media don't get hold of this yet," he informs them. "I'm gonna head out too. Call any of us if you need anything, alright?"

Ted nods. "Oh, wait, I don't--"

Before he's even finished the sentence, Beard's walked over and handed him a replacement phone - just a cheap one till he can get a proper one. "I put all our numbers in there," he says.

Good ol' Beard. "Thanks, coach. I'll see you later," Ted answers, smiling gratefully.

Beard smiles and gives a small wave to them both before he heads out.

Joan hadn't even thought of the press. She's glad Rebecca is on it. She can't imagine how hard it would be for Ted if this whole incident was splashed across the tabloids for everyone to see.

Joan waves back at Beard, watching him go.

"He's amazing," she says when he's out of sight and earshot.

"Right?" Ted agrees, laughing a little, then wincing mildly, though it doesn't quite stop him smiling. Yeah, these painkillers don't make him completely unable to feel it. (Which is probably good, cause then he might get careless.) He's just going to go ahead and lie back down properly.

"Him and Rebecca will make sure everything runs smoothly while I'm gone," he adds gratefully. He feels kind of bad for not being there for the team, but he knows that's silly. They wouldn't blame him, and they'd want him to get better.

"Wonder what they're gonna tell the team..." he muses. Surely at least that he's in the hospital, but beyond that? If they're trying to make sure it doesn't leak, it might be foolish to tell a few dozen people, a few of whom - bless them - aren't the brightest knives in the box.

She lies down with him, careful to position her head against his shoulder and arm across his abdomen so she doesn't hit any sore spots.

'They'll miss you," she says with a smile, "but they're in good hands."

The question of what to tell the team draws a slight frown, though. It's a good question. She knows that group well enough to know telling them the truth would definitely ensure it got out to the press.

"Accident?" she muses. "Appendicitis? Bar fight?" She chuckles softly. "Nah, they wouldn't believe that one."

Ted chuckles gently, trying to make sure he doesn't laugh too much. "They might believe it if they say I was in the middle trying to stop the bar fight," he suggests, taking her hand that's across his abdomen and lacing their fingers together.

She smiles and squeezes his hand. "You're right," she says, amused. "That's totally something you'd do."

They'd believe it, too, because his team knows that Ted is a good man who cares about people and would do anything to help someone in need. Joan notes that that's pretty much exactly how he walked into this incident, too. Getting the worst of a barfight he tried to stop would have been a million times better, though.

"I've had to stop a couple fights in the locker room," he shares, thinking back. "Back in the premier league, we had two players who were at each other's throats a lot. Took a lot of work to get them to play nice."

"I can imagine," she says. "Testosterone and egos are frequently an explosive combination." She smiles at a memory. "Do you know anything about cockfighting?"

Ted blinks curiously at that question. "Only that it's when you make roosters fight," he answers. He gives her a look. "At least I hope that's what you're referring to," he adds jokingly, smile slowly creeping onto his face.

She laughs softly. "Wow, there's one hell of a visual. No, I mean the roosters. It's a terrible thing, because they train the birds to kill each other. When a cockfighting ring is busted, they usually have to euthanize the animals, because they've been so conditioned to be violent toward each other that they can't be around other chickens. It's generally thought that a fighting gamecock can never be rehabilitated. A couple years ago there was a ring in New York that was broken up, and Sherlock got two of the roosters to see if he could de-condition them. Teach them how to co-exist. It took a while, and some very careful exposure to each other, but he did it. He named them Romulus and Remus, which was too clever by half, and we had chickens living in the brownstone for a few weeks until a farm upstate could take them."

Ted doesn't usually go blue with his jokes, but how's he gonna pass that one up?

He listens to the story with interest, and gets an increased fondness for Sherlock from it. He's got the impression it was just as much about the challenge that made him want to do it, but it's a very good and lovely reason to take that challenge.

"That's so cool," he answers genuinely. "Hey, I didn't get to thank Sherlock, make sure you tell him thanks when you go back there, alright?"

Sherlock is prickly and hard to get along with, but he truly hates it when people or creatures are exploited, especially when they're physically harmed.

"I will, but you can thank him yourself the next time you come to the brownstone, if you like." Sherlock is still wary of Ted, the same way he's wary of anyone who gets close to Joan, but even he has begun to grudgingly accept that Ted's friendliness and optimism are not subterfuge nor stupidity, and that Joan is truly happy with him in a way that she has not been happy in a long time.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject