Medsi

[Jay Carpenter]

His new cast was sleek, some futuristic white polymer sculpted perfectly to his hand and halfway up his forearm. He kept flexing his fingers like it might suddenly disappear, like he’d imagined the whole thing. The doctor had asked, as they always do, how the injury occurred. Jay had scratched the back of his neck and muttered something about a wall, a really dumb moment, and too much adrenaline. The doctor, stone-faced, informed him that punching solid concrete was, in fact, an excellent way to break bones. A solitary “yep” was all he replied.

Jensen had flickered through his mind for half a second. One call and the guy would probably materialize right there, but Jay couldn’t stomach the thought of that kind of pity. Better to suffer than be seen suffering. That was the rule, right? Especially after bringing this on himself.

Not that he was suffering now. No, whatever they’d shot him up with had turned the sharp pain of reality into something soft and fuzzy and far-off, like a memory you weren’t sure actually happened. His brain felt pleasantly unglued, thoughts floating up and away like helium balloons. Even the led lighting had lost its usual sting. He blinked a few times just to see the shadows bend. That was trippy.

Outside, the city air was colder than he remembered, but in a good way, like mint on the tongue. He and Natalie hadn’t really agreed what came next, just moved forward like inertia would carry them somewhere. Jay stood on the sidewalk for a moment, head tilted, watching the road like a taxi might appear.

And then, somehow, a car actually pulled up. He blinked again. “Huh. That actually worked.” he said aloud, deeply impressed with his own luck.

A slow, satisfied smack of his lips followed. He felt great. Dangerous thought. 
“Alright,” he said to Natalie, leaning in slightly like he was about to share state secrets. “Two options. Kremlin…” He raised a finger solemnly. “Or Radiance Hotel. Technically I have claim to both. Probably.”

A lopsided grin followed, like half his face was unglued from the other half, “dealer’s choice,” he nodded, suddenly needing to steady himself as he climbed into the car.

[Natalie Grey]

Natalie was relieved to finally be free of the hospital, an additional tension she hadn’t even noticed she’d been carrying until they were out in the cold, clean air of the street. Jay was floating by then, eyes glassy from the morphine and whatever else was still lingering in his system. She wasn’t about to disabuse the miracle of the car with the more mundane truth: that she’d messaged Toma while the doctors were applying the cast. So she only chuckled a little at the wonder in his tone, and told him to ask the universe for something else to see if his luck held.

In the meanwhile his options for sanctuary were abysmal, but she listened to the solemn logic anyway. In other circumstances a hotel would have been an easy option, and closer given the hour, but even if it hadn’t been that one, the idea of rootlessness tonight twisted a knotted pain in her chest. Not for the loss of the apartment, but for the fragile balance life had become in the aftermath of Mexico. She didn't want more temporary, ephemeral survival until the next disaster or break down. Not for either of them. Nothing but restrained affection showed in her expression, and a softer patience than the one in the waiting room. Tonight’s fears were packed neatly away by now, and for the prosaic crisis of where to go in the early hours of the morning she was entirely unruffled.

“Dealer’s choice,” she agreed easily, reaching to gently cup his head so he didn’t bash it while he wobbled into the backseat. Toma’s eyes were amused in the driver’s mirror when Natalie joined him, to no great surprise. Natalie met the gaze without comment.

She dozed while they travelled, head light against Jay’s shoulder. Sleep threatened a deeper tide despite everything, though she roused by the time the car hit the gravel of Belizna’s drive. By then fingers of sunrise were glowing on a deep purple horizon, and the castle loomed like a shadow in the lightening gloom. She’d spoken about it to Jay before, but she wasn’t sure what context he retained of her activities in Moscow while he was fighting through the motions to survive grief. A renovation project was quite removed from the majesty of the reality though, even though it was still very much a work in progress. Habitable, though. For the most part at least. She’d already been living here the majority of her time prior to Emily’s wedding, and that was several months ago.

She touched his leg to see if he was awake. “Third option,” she murmured with a coy, slightly sleepy smirk. “Belizna.”