This Dark Hour (closed)

Say what one would about Sean Neville – and undoubtedly there was much to be said in the day’s aftermath – but he kept calm under pressure. He managed to drive Chase to the hospital without getting pulled over and without using his abilities to achieve that outcome. Once there, Ethan had brought them into that same back room where he’d worked on Josh those months ago. Yet again, the psychiatrist had grabbed the clipboard of patient information to fill out the necessary details and nothing further.

Chase had been given an immediate sedative, and once he was safely unconscious, Sean had assisted with the mending process, serving as promised, as Ethan’s nurse. He’d been less than forthcoming on the precise circumstances surrounding the injuries, pulling out the “assault” excuse again. Although he mentioned the fall from the two-story window because it was medically necessary information. He’d also made Ethan promise not to mention it to anyone, not even James should he ask.

Once Chase was out of danger and had been adequately treated – and while he still slept – Sean took the next responsible course of action and had called James to alert him of the situation; he deserved to know. As for what he would know...that was Chase’s department. Chase hadn’t wanted him to disclose what had happened, and Sean didn’t feel it was his place to divulge what had happened, since those were the younger man’s burdens to bear and his secrets to reveal. That assault excuse was as handy as it was accurate, and he explained the situation in vague terms over the phone, giving the room number in anticipation of James’s arrival.

After that it had been a waiting game. With the telepath still in crisis mode, he ran possible outcomes in his head as he waited, to prepare himself for what was to come.

When James finally arrived, Sean was prepared. He stepped out of the way to give the younger man access to Chase’s bedside, and he began providing medical information mixed with vague descriptions which were not quite lies. “Morphine at the moment. He’ll get a prescription to take home with him, and I’ll refill it so you both don’t have to come back out here when it runs out.” Standard procedure wouldn’t allow for the strong pain medications to come with automatic refills, but the psychiatrist could play intermediary without violating professional ethics. “He’s just waking up now, and he hasn’t had the ability to speak to anyone. And I wouldn’t get the police involved.” Police intervention was not an option, not given the parties involved and the circumstances. “I haven’t had good experiences the past months trying to file police reports, and Chase isn’t in any condition to give a statement.” That was true, all of that was true, even if those weren’t the primary reasons.

The telepath understood James’s need for answers, and he wished to give him what minor comfort he could: as a friend, as a colleague, as a psychiatrist, and because he was withholding information. “Cruel, irrational people did this.” While he understood the gestalt pair’s loyalty to Gabriel – in the abstract as well as more practically given his charisma – he also absolved them of nothing. While Chase had harmed Gabriel, Josh had harmed no one and they had treated him the same way. They were violent, hate-filled individuals. “But the important part is that he’ll recover, and his neck isn’t broken.” He understood how off-putting the brace could be, but it was for a different type of injury. “It's soft tissue damage. He’ll get to go home with you.”

The telepath would let the two men work out whether they sought out a bio manipulator for Chase’s injuries. If they did, the telepath would encourage a home visit, because the longer they were there, the longer Sean had to be there, and the longer Ethan had to cover for them. He didn’t like putting his friend in this situation, particularly not having to call on him for this favor twice in only a few months.

He watched as James left to call Niko; only after he and Chase were left alone did the psychiatrist breathe a small sigh of relief. That had gone as well as could be expected, given the circumstances. James had accepted most of his advice, and he also hadn’t called the telepath out on the questions he’d deliberately chosen not to answer.

“Easy does it,” Sean warned the younger man as he began to sit up. It wouldn’t do for Chase to hurt himself further while attempt to make himself mobile. And given the circumstances, his automatic correction for profane language was forgotten; Chase had earned the right to use that word. The telepath repeated what he had told James aloud, since Chase had asked him verbally. “You were assaulted. By more than one person, of an unspecified number. Two, I presume. You’re on morphine and I gave him a quick rundown of your injuries. It wasn’t a hate crime.”

With that, Sean switched to mental communication. Given James’s enhanced senses, he couldn’t rule out that the other man might overhear him; he also couldn’t control for the duration of that phone call. Additionally, he thought the other man would appreciate the break from the spoken word; it took less effort, preciously so when one was on morphine. I told the doctor that you’d been thrown from a two-story window because he needed that to treat you, but I didn’t tell that to James. This is in your hands, not mine.

The other two questions gave him pause. It was natural for Chase not to remember fully; he’d suffered a concussion, and the experience itself was psychologically – as well as physically – traumatic. Although showing the memory was a simple feat, Sean didn’t do so. When Chase was feeling better, they could compare notes. Yes. There was no sense denying that, certainly not when retribution was a strong possibility. I wasn’t there for all of it, so I can’t say exactly what happened, but when you’re feeling better, I’ll find us some alone time, and we can talk. For now, just concentrate on recovering.