trashchildren | For Joan

"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.

Ted nods, and he definitely plans to. He just assumes Joan will see him first. Presumably she has to go back there to shower and change at some point, maybe get some sleep in an actual bed of her own. He loves the company, but he doesn't need constant supervision, thankfully. Besides, he assumes he'll get some other visitors too who can keep him company.

"Alright, I think I'm gonna try the sleep thing again," he says, actually yawning a little. Hopefully this time he'll be out longer, especially since this time the painkillers won't run out.

Joan will definitely want to go home at least for a little bit in the morning to shower and change. Hopefully someone else will be there to keep Ted company at the time. So much of what happened to him involved isolation, so at least at first Joan thinks its probably a good idea that he not be alone for too long.

"Okay," she says, and yawns as well, catching it from him. "I'll probably fall asleep for a bit too. I'm right here if you need me."

"I know," he answers warmly, kissing her hair and then settling in to sleep. He doesn't pass out immediately this time, but it doesn't take too long before he's fast asleep. And maybe it's the combination of the painkillers and Joan's embrace, but this time there's no nightmares either.

He does wake up some hours later, while Joan is still asleep, and he thinks it's the middle of the night. And he really has to pee. He's pretty sure he can't actually manage that without waking her.

He looks over at Joan and gentle shakes her a little. "Hey..."

Joan sleepily opens her eyes, and when she sees him she smiles. "Hey," she says softly, obviously just happy to see him in her half-asleep state.

Then she blinks as she starts to remember where they are and why, and her forehead creases in concern. "Is everything okay?"

He loves seeing her when she's asleep or recently woken up. So peaceful, and so happy to see him.

"I need to go to the bathroom," he answers, with a smile that says he's aware this is probably the most benign emergency they've had in the past few days.

"Oh!" She sits up and climbs out of bed. "Okay...hang on..." She goes over to the pole where the IV drip is hung, and sure enough it has wheels. "Okay," she says. "It's always awkward working with these things, because their wheels are often only slightly better than the wheels on shopping carts." She looks at him. "With your broken leg and your knees, do you think you can make it to the bathroom if I help you? Or should I call a nurse?"

"Let's find out," he answers, already sitting up and carefully swinging his legs out of bed.

Even just bending his knees is pretty uncomfortable, and he puts a hand on a shoulder and holds onto the bed with the other as he tries to stand up. The cast on his leg actually prevents him from having much problem with the broken bone. But his knees don't seem very willing to hold him without significant discomfort, which is probably not good for him, so he sits back down.

"Nope, probably a bad idea," he answers with a mildly annoyed sigh. "Think you could get a wheelchair?" he suggests.

"I can do that." She gives him a quick kiss. "Be right back."

Joan is only gone for a couple minutes. She returns with a wheelchair and a nurse trailing her.

"I hear you need to get out of bed to use the bathroom," the nurse says. "I can help you with that."

Joan gives him a little shrug. "She insisted." It's almost certainly a good thing to have the extra help, though, and Joan knows all too well how dangerous falls can be when people are weak or injured.

Ted smiles, as he doesn't mind too much, he just doesn't want to be a bother. And yeah, he really wouldn't like to fall over, what with the state of his knees, his hips - most parts of him, honestly.

"Alright, thanks--" He pauses to read her name tag. "Rosa. Lovely name," he says, and she chuckles at him.

With their powers combined, they manage to get him into the chair, and wheel him off to the bathroom. He also gets to wear one slipper, which amuses him for some reason.

"Alright, I think I can take it from here," he says, once they've gotten him onto the toilet. Pretty smart of them to have these hospital gowns that open in the back, so he doesn't have to drop his pants in front of strangers.

He's so good natured even in this situation, and Joan can't help but be both amused and heart-warmed by that. In most cases even the nicest of people can get a little difficult when in the hospital. Not Ted. He remains kind and considerate and personable. It's not a surprise, per se...because it's Ted...but it is remarkable.

Joan and Rosa wait outside the bathroom for him to finish.

The act itself doesn't take too long, since he didn't eat all Sunday and most of Monday, and then nothing heavy, so his stomach is still catching up a little bit.

But he does take a moment to just... sit there in silence. It's the first time he's been alone since he was found. He's glad it's brightly lit in here, since otherwise it might be more uncomfortable. But it's good to have just a little bit of privacy.

He reaches back and unties his gown, so he can pull it off his upper body, and inspect his sides. They look pretty brutal. The bruises haven't started fading, but they are turning different colors. There's a few on his arms too, but they're not as bad. He inspects his knees, and yeah, they're pretty awful too. No wonder they hurt. He wishes he could look at himself in the mirror, but he'd have to stand up for that.

He sighs, then puts the gown back on, though he has trouble reaching back to tie it again, and he mutters a mild swear. Oh well, he'll just have to ask for help with that.

"Alright, y'all ready to cart me back?" he says, loud enough for them to hear him outside.

She can tell he's taking longer than he probably needs to pee, and she can guess what he's doing is taking stock of his injuries. He hasn't really had a chance to do that, and Joan totally understands him wanting to see. She hopes it doesn't send him into a spiral, seeing the brutal damage done to him by a terrible man that had abused him mentally and emotionally as well.

When he calls for their help the two of them come in. Joan notices that his gown is untied, and she moves behind him to tie it up as the nurse is moving the wheelchair into position.

"Okay," the nurse says, holding onto one of Ted's arms and Joan holding onto the other. "Up we go!"

Ted gives her a small grateful smile as she ties together his gown even without him asking, and without commenting on it.

Turns out standing up is very difficult when your knees don't work properly, so he definitely requires their help to lift him up.

"Feel like a two year old in potty training..." he comments, and there's definitely a little bit more bitterness to it than Ted usually exhibits.

It's not that he feels infantilized, he just doesn't like feeling so helpless. "Thattaway, ladies," he says, nodding towards the sink. At least with both of their help for him to put his weight on, and somewhat stiff movements, he can actually manage to walk there.

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