I’ve been waiting for so long (to feel like I’m home)
A RBB 2021 Fic
AO3 Accompanying Art by @mareofthesky
Summary: Palmetto Public Hospital was just supposed to be another meaningless stop in Neil Josten's life. He doesn't have a reason to keep running to a new hospital every few months, but that doesn't mean he's learned how to stay. And there's something about the rest of the staff on the burn ward that makes him want to try, especially the physical therapist.
This fic was written for the 2021 AFTG Reverse Big Bang. Thank you @gluupor for organizing! I had the joy of being paired with @mareofthesky. She’s absolutely incredible, both as an artist and as a human being. I seriously couldn’t ask for someone better.
This work takes place in a hospital in pre-COVID times. I am not a nurse, doctor or physical therapist, let alone a burn survivor. I do not know everything they go through. I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible, but recognize that I’m going to be wrong about some things. There’s only so far research can take you.
While I don’t think this work is more graphic than canon, it does deal with some distressing stuff, namely: burns, blood, hospitals, child abuse, violence, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, torture, mutilation of corpses (referenced) and Baltimore references.
Nathaniel Wesninski was thirteen when his mother almost died.
In another universe, this would have been the thing that killed her. She would have gotten her hands-on fake passports and they would have traveled across Europe until he was fourteen and Stefan got shot in Germany. But they would have still ended up in Seattle, her blood spilling on the leather seat as her son drove down the coastline.
In this world, their plans to head to Europe fell through quickly. There hadn't been a couple million dollars to pave the way, just two desperate souls fleeing in the night because Nathaniel couldn't live up to the standards his father set for him.
Nathan Wesninski was the head of his own empire, eager for his son to take over. There was no Yakuza demanding a show of loyalty. If Nathaniel had shown promise, he would have been able to take over the family operation.
The problem was, in both worlds, Nathaniel hadn't shown promise. It took years for him to learn how to watch his father butcher a man without crying. He could never master Lola's style of knife play, refusing to draw out the pain any more than strictly necessary. As he got older, his eyes would go stony, his hands moving automatically. But he was moving through water. He barricaded himself into his own head so that he didn't register the stickiness of the blood on his hands until he'd left the basement. The sound of screams became so ubiquitous, he could tune it out. There was no joy, certainly no drive to continue the Butcher's legacy.
He had merely nodded when his father had announced he expected Nathaniel to take care of the traitor in his ranks. He kept his feet trained on the floor, on the puddles of blood slowly inching toward the central drain.
But Mary saw the gleam on her husband's face, the unspoken or else. She also happened to know the traitor in question. One of the servants who liked to sneak Nathaniel snacks while he worked on his homework. There was no way that Nathaniel could force himself to do it. He'd be left with new scars if he was lucky. Knowing her husband and his current frustration over territory losses, Nathaniel wasn’t going to be lucky.
So she'd grabbed what she could, contacted the few contacts she had with her family that could do good work for cheap and escaped into the night.
When they met Nathan and his ilk in Seattle, they had only been on the run for three years. Linda and Alex, their 8th set of names, had settled into the type of neighborhood where no one noticed another kid with desperation in their eyes, where no one had the energy to poke into anyone else's business during the break between second and third jobs. Alex was fine, good at following orders, a natural at stitches. He could blend in just fine, answer questions the right way, but he certainly wasn't ready to start out on his own.
For every time they successfully changed identities, he complained about not joining the track team or jostled against the restrictions of coming home directly after school without hanging on the monkey bars or meeting friends. For all their time on the run, for all the times she'd tried to beat it out of him, Alex was still a child.
And even if he had been ready to stake out on his own. A child, especially one as small as Alex, would always draw attention when traveling alone.
Despite that, he had been able to drive the beaten down car, the phone book stacked beneath him giving him just enough extra height to see the road. His maneuvering was perfect as he weaved through traffic. They hadn't spent weeks training as Caroline and Sam in backroads lined with corn in Iowa for him to fail when escape was their only option.
Mary applied pressure to the bullet wound with one hand and frantically called the local FBI office with her other. Her family might have been able to help her, but she wouldn't live to see them arrive from England. In dire circumstances one had to make do.
And Mary had years’ worth of insider information of her husband's dealing she could easily trade for her treatment at a hospital and her son's continued safety.
So Nathaniel was 13 when his mother almost died, and he entered the witness protection program. He was thirteen when he became Neil Josten.
"Isn't it too similar to his real name?" Mary huffed, giving the trio sent to her hospital room a jaunty smile.
The mousy-haired social worker pushed up her glasses as she gave them a placating smile. "We find young children tend to adapt better when allowed some connection to their genuine selves."
Mary had rolled her eyes, but Neil had merely frowned. He had no idea what she meant by genuine self. Was he supposed to be like creative like Sam? Or logical like Owen? His life had been a mass of contradictions. The only thing he knew for certain was he didn't want to be brutal like Nathaniel.
The only thing he'd consistently been his entire life was scared.
He was fifteen by the time arrests were started to be made in Baltimore.
"You needed two years for that?" Mary spat as she talked to their handler over the phone from their Millport townhouse. "Fucking Moorhouse and Redler?
Neil dutifully filled out his homework as he sat sprawled out in the living room with the patio door open so he could smell his mother's cigarettes as she badgered tonight's lucky caller.
"I would have thought that you'd have something more to show for yourselves. Truly the incompetence is astounding."
Neil smirked as Mary's natural brogue colored her words. She could speak half a dozen languages with the precision of a local but rile her up enough and anyone would be able to tell she’d spent her childhood running wild in Manchester.
Neil pressed his pencil hard into the paper as he underlined yet another one of the rules for pickleball. Sure he couldn't even run around the neighborhood anytime soon, let alone play a game he's actually interested in, but the epitome of his online gym education truly was learning rules and regulations for sports he wasn't even sure were real.
"I'm allowed to lie on this one right?" He sarcastically asked his caseworker as he laid out the exercise tracker worksheet. "Like I'm not about to put myself in federal custody for claiming I have access to an Exy court? Since you guys said I had to be totally honest and everything"
She had rolled his eyes at him, but she didn't ask about Mary's late night phone calls to Uncle Stuart, so Neil took it for the win it was.
In another world, he was nineteen when his father’s people found them. Instead, he was fifteen. Fifteen with a limited skill-set since there are things that can be taught on the run that can’t be taught in a small flat under government surveillance.
The only bright side was that in this world, there was no car. He was not crammed in a trunk with Lola tool close, practically grinding on top of him as she reminded him how much he looked like his father. It’s a small victory.
Instead there’s screaming and knives and he had to watch. He had to watch with his heart in his throat as Romero showed no mercy. Watch as his mother died, watch until he can’t recognize her corpse anymore.
They took enjoyment in this. Lola’s practically laughed as he slammed into the wall, as she dragged her knife down his chest.
Neil spit in Lola’s face as she poured the gasoline. With his squirming, it only managed to douse half his body, but it was enough to finally wrench the screams from his throat as the flames bit into his flesh.
He was scared. He fought back anyway.
But that really wouldn’t have changed in either world.
The bullets that finally came, that finally bring everything to an end, did not come from his Uncle in revenge.
Instead they are fired by federal officers aiming to main so as not to lose the opportunity to interrogate the criminals that might have enough knowledge to bring all of East Coast’s organized crime to its knees.
The weeks that followed weren’t kind to him. Neil saw the pictures later and he didn’t even recognize his own face.
But for once, the people were kind. Kind enough to give him hope even as the rest of the world collapsed around him.
Somewhere else a scared boy finds his family and himself at nineteen on an Exy court. In this world, Neil Josten is twenty-six and finds them in a hospital. This is that story.
"It really was lucky that we found you with such short notice."
In general, Neil Josten didn't believe in luck. He certainly wouldn't call it luck when Palmetto Public Hospital had posted exactly the type of job he looked for on all the travel nurse job boards. Just desperate sounding enough to cause people to not ask too many questions, while professional enough to not make a big deal of his scars.
Neil took Chief Nurse Danielle Wilds' hand with a carefully constructed smile on his face. "I'm glad I'm able to help. Although I was under the impression, I'd be your replacement."
Wilds let out as a laugh as she seemed to instinctively cradle her baby bump. "My husband, Matt, you'll be working with him too, thinks I'm being ridiculous, wanting to show you around myself, but I'd truly hate for you to get the wrong impression of us."
Neil just barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. Every hospital thought they were so special. Like a family or some shit. Every hospital was wrong.
Procedure might differ slightly, and some places had more people worth avoiding. But in the end, all that mattered was that the nurses showed up, did their job and offered some kindness. Even if he’s no Abby, even if his version of kindness wasn’t so much sympathy as it is experience, kindness was essential.
He can never claim to know exactly what the patients are going through. Even if they showed up with third degree burns down half their body, a punctured lung, a broken arm and some knife wounds, he wouldn’t really know. He’d just know they’d hurt like hell. Even if the injuries were the same, their story would be very different.
No one breaks the same way.
Still the things a broken person can say to another broken person can often carry more weight.
It’s one thing to offer sympathy. It’s another entirely to nod in understanding that your body doesn’t entirely feel like yours anymore, that it might never feel like yours, but you just have to keep going forward.
Over the years, Neil got very good at moving forward.
Neil tossed his running shoes by the door. It took him less than ten minutes for Neil to add his things to the furnished apartment. He'd discovered only two hospitals ago that people ask less questions if his clothes weren't covered in wrinkles from staying packed. So Neil haphazardly moved the folded scrubs onto the cheapest hangers he could find.
3:08 PM
I'm all moved in.
The responding string of smiley faces to Neil's message was instantaneous despite the fact it was the middle of the afternoon and Abby was likely still on shift. (Or maybe precisely because she was on shift and had her phone on to stay up to date on patients as opposed to cutting herself off from the rest of the world to try and squeeze out some sleep.)
He didn't feel guilty per say as he closed his phone. Abby knew better to expect much from him.
"Kiddo, I'm going to take what I can get. I understand you aren’t used to having someone in your corner." She said as she bundled him up for college, doing far more than anyone had expected of her.
Well he should have expected it of her. Abby had practically laughed in his case worker's face when Cindy had brought up the different moveout options for when Neil turned 18.
It was a strange thing to have someone, even if he kept her at arm's length.
It's for her own good. The little traitorous voice in his head whispered.
Logically, Neil knew that Abby was already in too deep. Anyone, including any of his father's men seeking retribution could find her by simply looking for his file. He didn't need to maintain a relationship with her in order for Abby to be at risk. She had housed him during the trial. That would be enough for them. There was no need to push her away, to prevent her from actually knowing him.
But he felt a little bad that she knew him well enough to not ask why he had a new number or what his address was. Moving so soon after getting a housewarming package of cookies hadn’t been an overreaction and he stood by that.
When he finally met him, Matt was more of an overexcited puppy than an actual person. He dragged Neil down to the cafeteria every day they shared a break. Matt carried the conversation easily needing only the slightest input from Neil to keep going. He talked about any and everything, from college exploits to TV shows to worries that he wouldn’t be a good dad.
“It’s not like I had the best example, you know?” Matt joked even as his eyes are serious.
Neil nodded, understanding a bit too well. “Still an example. Just an example of one way to fuck up. You’ll be fine.”
He ducked his head as Matt beamed too brightly at him.
Words were a weapon he’s used to, but everything about conversations with Matt felt wrong.
Matt made him feel unbalanced. He offered up genuine parts of himself so easily. Neil wished he had something to give him in return for his easy friendship and trust, but even what was safe to say felt like it belonged to a different person entirely, a person he didn’t want to be anymore.
And what was left after that? The fact he didn’t like books or movies or vegetables. It wasn’t a fair trade. Matt shouldn’t be content to accept the breadcrumbs Neil offers in return for his raw insecurities.
But he was.
And that made Neil want to try. Try to force himself into a person Matt deserved, someone real.
Creating that person was fucking exhausting.
After two weeks, he had more than enough. Neil had a bag lunch and a mission.
Neil slipped into the stairwell without anyone spotting him and headed up. He might be able get onto the roof. But he would settle for just one of the upper floors. As long as there was no well-meaning coworker attempting to engage him in the break room or bring him down to the cafeteria, Neil would consider it a win.
The door marked “Roof Access – Maintenance Staff Only" looked like it should be locked. But a few jiggles of the handle had it opening easily enough.
The roof wasn't empty like he expected. Instead there's a figure sitting cross-legged near the front edge of the roof. Even from here, Neil could tell the man is short. Small but not delicate. Probably a former athlete from the width of his shoulders, the bulk visible even through the loose black scrubs. His short blonde hair is slightly windswept, enough so that he can see the man’s black earrings.
Neil tried to place him. He is not the best with names. He didn't see the point of attempting to remember when he’d be gone soon. But Dan had wanted to introduce him to everyone, saying something about them not being a whole bunch of "do-nothings" and it would do him some good to know the typical inhabitants of the burn ward.
Allison had taken that a step farther. Probably because she wanted gossip and hearing vague descriptions wasn't very helpful to her.
Neil stared for a second, cataloguing the man from behind, before it clicked.
Andrew Minyard, Physical Therapist.
”Monster Minyard” Allison said as she brought him around with her one day, telling him everything he should know about his new coworkers. “Bites worse than his bark. If he wasn’t so good with hopeless cases or getting rid of particularly overbearing visitors, I wouldn’t even know why we kept him around.”
The little Neil’s seen already was more than enough to know Andrew’s good.
The only way the nickname seemed to fit at all was that the man was intimidating when he wanted to be, that he could turn himself into a threat with ease. Neil had seen him practically threaten a relative with a scalpel to the chest before turning on the dime and gently helping the patient bend the joints covered with skin grafts.
But the most remarkable thing was how Andrew always let his patients set the pace.
There were sections of his own skin where Neil had lost sensation. There were days when they'd ache or itch, but he couldn't feel much beyond heat. He'd nearly decked the first doctor who touched his arm without warning him. Neil hadn't even realized he was there until the hand moved to a less ravaged spot. Everything about it had made him feel unsteady. He couldn't rely on his body to stand guard for him anymore.
But Minyard never let his patients be surprised. He narrated everything he did before he did it. Nothing was a surprise. They could say no if they didn't feel ready or if something hurt particularly bad that day. He was flexible with the patients in a way he never was with the staff.
Neil hadn't actually heard Minyard utter a word that wasn't directly related to their jobs. He moved silently through the halls, meeting attempts to socialize with deep scowls.
Maybe he'd be better off scouting out somewhere else. There was no rule that Minyard owned the roof. But Neil was also used to spotting dangerous people and everything about Minyard screamed trouble.
“What are you doing up here?”
Neil hadn’t realized Andrew had even known he was up here yet. He didn’t bother turning when Neil forced the door open.
“Trying to avoid company.” Neil moved across the room until he sat next to Andrew. They’re not quite at the edge, but there’s no guardrail. It’s unnerving.
Andrew gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement, still not looking at him.
“What are you doing on the roof?”
“Used to smoke. Never broke the habit.”
Neil merely nodded as he unwrapped his sandwich.
Andrew tilted his head just slightly to the side. “I thought that you’d be put off by smoking.”
“Is it bad to say I like the smell?”
Andrew’s nose scrunched ever so slightly. "You lie. All the time."
Neil only nodded again at the accusation.
This time it isn’t quite a lie. He did like the smell. It’s not quite the same as the Lucky Strikes his mother would blow through after she thought he was asleep. But it’s close, certainly a lot closer than the smell of burning human flesh.
But it's not like Minyard's wrong either. He did lie all the time. Sometimes it felt like lying came easier than breathing.
The rest of the staff hadn’t seemed as bothered about the lies. They were practically amused by them. Neil had smirked when he passed the break room and overheard them sharing some of the most outrageous ones.
“I heard him say to 402’s kid that he was trying to steal treasure from a palace guarded by lava, and he hadn’t been able to jump far enough on his way out.
“At least that one’s child appropriate, he told 407 that was a victim of secret government trials of new chemical warfare weapons. As if anyone with a brain couldn’t tell those were accelerant flame not pure chemical burns.” Allison added.
No one mentioned “International Jewel Thief tortured for trade secrets.” And Seth didn’t bring up “I dabbled in porn to get through college. Got a bit too into temperature play” even if it had made patient 406 laugh uproariously. It was almost a shame his best lies were unappreciated.
They’d even started a bet on what the real reason could be. It would never be settled since it required asking him directly and none of them would do that. They all liked to pretend to have morals even as they bet on everything under the sun. Besides what sort of example would it set to their patients? The one staff member that actually looked like them and yet they couldn’t even show basic decency with regards to his privacy.
Maybe they have a whole separate bet about who’s finally going to work up the courage. Neil didn’t think any of them had put money on that person being Minyard.
Minyard turned to face Neil for the first time, "Tell me something true."
It wasn’t concern on Minyard's face. The look in his eyes barely qualified as interested, but Neil still wanted to answer him. He didn’t know what to say but he can't dismiss the fact that he wanted to answer. It was easy to admit to himself he doesn't typically want anything.
"I don't see the point of icebreakers."
Minyard tapped his fingers aggressively against the roof. "I'm not asking for party tricks. I'm asking for something true."
Neil wasn't sure he even had something true to offer. What does that mean when he existed as a lie stacked atop another lie? The things he’s already told Matt don’t hold enough substance to be something true.
"I didn't even think about becoming a nurse until after all this." He gestured to himself. He can't call it an accident even if that would make it simpler.
It was no accident where Lola pressed the dashboard lighter into his face, no accident in the way she poured the gasoline. Every one of her actions had been designed to cause him the maximum amount of pain. This wasn’t an accident.
"My roommate forced me into PT. Thought that since it was his new purpose in life, it would be mine too."
"It's not like he was wrong."
"You disgust me Josten."
"I mean you can't be so good at your job without feeling something."
"It's more interesting than other options."
"So you like it then." Neil teased easily.
“Give me one good reason to not push you off the side.”
"Just try. I'd drag you with me. It's a long way down.”
It grew from there. Going to the roof was no longer about avoiding the others by spending time with Minyard, but instead about just talking with Andrew. Eating on the roof together felt easy. The conversation had rules. Answer for answer, truth for truth. There was no awkward imbalance or a desire to be something more for Andrew. They could just talk.
Neil practically collapsed into his spot on the roof with his lunch in hand. He was painfully aware of how he’d gradually crept closer since their first conversation. "Why'd you choose Palmetto?"
"Brother didn't want me in Chicago."
Neil’s head shot up from the banana he was peeling. "You have a brother?"
Andrew glared as if to say it isn't your turn idiot.
He raised his hands in mock surrender. "All right I get it. Go on. Ask your question."
"And if I think we should be done for the day?"
Neil shrugged. "I can wait."
And he could. With each day spent on the roof, Neil only craved to know more about Andrew. But he liked what they had and wouldn't dare ruin that with his impatience. The roof felt safe in a way the rest of the hospital didn't.
Andrew grunted. “What's with the orange?"
Neil rolled his eyes. "You gave me a hard time for my question and you're asking that?"
"That wasn't an answer."
"And if I just like orange?"
"You're being ridiculous."
They sat in silence for a while before Neil offered up more.
"College colors. Just never outgrew them I guess. They make me feel..."
Safe wasn't the right word. He practically spent all of college categorizing every exit on campus. Like he was a part of something feels wrong too. He left his apartment for class and an ever-changing cubicle in the library. There wasn't a whole lot to be a part of.
But Andrew nodded anyway like he actually finished the thought instead of trailing off into silence. "Feeling is dangerous."
Andrew's words were simple, but Neil could tell from the way he looked at the edge of the roof that they meant something more. It was a confession and an accusation wrapped all into one.
"So is not feeling. What are you supposed to keep living for if everything is grey and I say that as someone who actually likes grey."
Andrew scoffed, but didn’t say anything more.
Even knowing that Andrew had a mysterious estranged brother couldn’t make Neil break the silence. It wasn’t that he was afraid of pressing too far. Andrew wouldn’t let him. But he knew what it’s like to feel exposed and Andrew had already shared more than usual today.
They sat in comfortable silence until a pager goes off.
Neil wasn’t sure what the others think about the two of them.
The hospital chaplain with her oddly died hair likes to smile at him whenever she came to their floor. He thought she might be friends with Andrew, but he didn’t really care what she thought as long as she stayed out of his way.
Matt complained that he never got to eat with his new buddy anymore, but Neil wasn’t sure the rest of them even noticed.
They must have though, because their friendship was no longer confined to the roof. There were conversations in the hallways, extra food left in the break room that Neil certainly hadn’t brought himself, jokes cracked in the locker room when only Neil could hear. What they had wasn’t something that could be easily hidden away.
It certainly helped that they shared patients. They could walk down the hallway, a patient between them and debate plans for the zombie apocalypse. 402, Luis Hernandez, was a particular good sport about it, even if he was a bit too moral about the end of the world.
Neil did not have soft spots for patients. He was the epitome of professionalism. But he could admit that he liked how he had an excuse to talk to Andrew longer with Hernandez around.
"You don't have to like your scars you know?" Neil said lightly as he perched next to Hernandez’s bed, grabbing more antibiotic for the man's face. "Don't have to hate them either."
Hernandez gave a half-hearted shrug, clearly trying to stay still while gesturing to the brochures in his lap. "Everyone keeps bringing up plastic surgery."
Neil hummed. “They're going to keep doing that. I'm not saying they're an eyesore or even particularly noticeable.” He uncapped a new jar of ointment. “It’s just easier for them if they can pretend it never happened. No scars. No problem.”
“But that doesn’t mean-“
“I’m not saying it would. People are just good at ignoring what isn’t directly in front of them. And if they’re forced to see it, they have to actually acknowledge you’ve been through some shit.”
"It doesn't change what happened."
“They see something wrong, keep trying to find ways to fix things even if you don't particularly think you're broken.”
"And if I want to be fixed?"
"Then that's on you. You're recovering quicker than we expected. I don't see why you wouldn't respond positively to cosmetic treatment." Neil sighed as he laid down the old wrappings "You've just got to be the one to want it. You've gone through too much to want to start living for anyone else now."
He heard a cough behind him and only barely resisted the urge to whip around. Instead he waited until he’d finished smearing the antibiotic across this section of the man’s chest. He turned to see Andrew leaning easily against the doorframe.
“You’re good to take lunch when you’re done here.”
Neil looked upwards and Andrew nodded.
It took very little time for Neil to finish knowing that Andrew would be waiting for him on the roof.
“Did you seriously believe all that shit you were telling Hernandez?”
Neil looked at his lap where his unopened lunch sat. He suddenly wasn’t feeling particularly hungry. “People always look at the scars. Drove me mad with their staring. Hard to be invisible when you’re this fucking distinctive.”
Andrew snorted. “The scars are the least of your problems then.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Neil felt the weight of Andrew’s stare as it slowly scanned up and down his body. He huffed, wanting an actual answer.
“Are you an idiot?”
“Considering you call me that about six times a week, yes?”
Andrew angled his body toward Neil instead of the steep drop of the roof. “People find you attractive.” He shrugged, “I’d blow you.”
The confession was dropped in the middle of the conversation so easily as if it didn’t send Neil’s entire world spinning. He dug his hands into his legs trying to focus himself in any way he could.
“You like me."
"I hate you," Andrew corrected him, but Neil barely heard him, even as the other men left.
Neil got to work slightly ahead of schedule, rolled his eyes slightly at the night nurse giving him the pedantic recap of today's patients, somehow managing to drone on for ten minutes without saying anything of actual value.
Andrew would be in later, he thought absentmindedly as he washed his hands. They might be able to coordinate their breaks if he was lucky. And you might even be able to convince him at gunpoint that lately he was pretty lucky. (Although that might also be because Matt was managing the schedules and his smile was a bit too knowing.)
Still today shouldn’t be too bad. There was only so much on the burn ward he hadn’t seen before and if they had had new patients, they weren’t any of his.
412's patient was a finnicky older woman who only seemed to be living out of pure spite. She'd been in a few days now and Neil's sharp tongue had done little to endear himself to her. So it was truly a matter of his job security to get in and out as quickly as possible. If he had to hear one more complaint about ungrateful grandchildren or idiot politicians, he would snap.
The television was turned up loud in order to reach the women's bed. Despite insisting her hearing was just fine thank you very much, this meant the news could be heard down the hall. Still, Neil had gotten used to putting his head down and doing his own business.
There were enough signs that he should have known. After all, he knew it had to be interesting in order to keep Linda from complaining about the slight pinch as he repositioned her IV.
He should have heard it before he turned around to see his father's face plastered across the screen with the bold red font "Serial Killer Nathan Wesninski found dead in Baltimore Penitentiary." They'd chosen one of the trial photos as opposed to the mugshot. He looked handsome in his expensive suit with the smile he only pulled out at the business parties that left Neil sore for days.
His feet were moving before he fully registered what the headline read.
It was pure instinct to put as much distance as he could between himself and his father as possible even if it was just the picture.
Neil couldn't hear the clatter as he knocked over one of the vases. He was sure Linda was having a conniption, but he couldn’t hear it. He’s not here anymore.
He was thirteen again. And his father wore a much more dangerous grin, the kind that meant no mercy.
Neil's hands were covered in blood as he dragged his mother to the car. Hands digging into her chest as if he could force her to stay with him.
He was eight and his father had crossed the line that was even too much for his mother.
His hands shook as he tried to thread his own needle. He held the needle with his mouth, trying to thread it with one hand and using the other to force the wound together. There was just so much blood and not enough time.
You can't stop running.
He thought he heard someone calling his name. Too close. He’s too close.
You're never safe.
He darted through the closest door. It was a dead end, but it was out of sight.
When you fight back, do so quietly and quickly. You cannot risk attracting another opponent Abram.
He forced himself into the corner. There should be something here, anything really to block the door. But he didn’t see anything, and he heard footsteps. Resounding thuds against the linoleum floor. They were too close.
And if you can’t run. You hide. You hide until I come get you.
There’s space on the lower shelf. It wasn’t very big, but he’s always been small. It should be just big enough. Neil shoved the folded bedsheets and patient gowns out of the way. He would look out of place, easy enough to find if someone cared to look hard enough, but for now he just hugged his knees to his chest.
Everything felt like it’s moving too fast. His heart was pounding so loudly he’s sure it’s about to give him away. His mind wasn’t even forming full thoughts anymore, just racing ahead of him. He squeezed himself even tighter as if he can force out the emotions.
He only vaguely felt his right hand digging into his left arm over the burn scars. He knew he should stop. He hadn’t picked at them in years, tried not to irritate them more than necessary so they didn’t draw attention to him. But it’s not like it mattered now. He’d be dead soon. He should be worrying about if Abby would be able to find the body and how long it’d take the hospital to notify her since after everything she was still his emergency contact.
He should have tried to think his way out of this.
But he couldn’t get his thoughts to stop for a fucking second. Just one second might be enough to find a miracle. But even if Neil Josten had ever deserved a miracle, he’d used up his share. He’d made it to twenty-six. But now, he was going to die.
He knows it won’t be a painless death. There’s only so much a human body could take, a line at which point the mind can’t comprehend the pain anymore. But Nathan Wesninski knew the line and played it like a violin. He’d want to take his time, really make his son feel every inch of his displeasure. There was no way Neil would be able to contain his screams for long enough to satisfy him. His father would risk getting him out of this hospital if it meant he could take his time.
Neil wouldn’t let himself be taken. To lose consciousness now was to accept a long painful death. He would not leave this hospital, not ever again. He would take a quick painful death over a long painful one any day.
But to get a quick death though he needed to be here. And he couldn’t seem to force himself to be. He kept seeing flashes of other moments.
Blood snaking down toward the drain of their concrete basement. Romero’s fingernails digging into his skin as Lola brandished her knife. His father’s grin menacing and horrible.
It spoke to his terror that he didn’t notice when the door opened.
"Hey." The voice is soft, gentle in a way the Butcher of Baltimore was never capable of sounding even when he was playing pretend as a productive member of society.
Still the sound has Neil's head shooting up, just to be sure. Andrew is standing with his back to the door.
"You're Neil Josten. You're in the supply closet at Palmetto Public Hospital. You're safe." The words wrapped around him like a caress.
It felt less like he was drowning.
Neil still couldn’t move, so he just stared. Stared as Andrew moved forward, every step light, his arms raised in front of him to show his empty hands.
Andrew repeated the refrain as he squatted down near Neil's hiding spot in the linens. His hazel eyes stared into Neil's. They're warm like sunlight, like they could cut through the shadow of Neil's soul.
"It’s over. You're safe. Can you breathe with me?"
Neil didn't move. He couldn’t force his tongue to wrap around the words, couldn’t even decide what the words should be.
"We're going to do this together." Andrew shifted from his squat to sitting cross-legged next to him. He's close to the shelving unit, but he wasn’t trying to force Neil out. Andrew exaggerated his own breathing.
He didn’t know how long they sit there before Neil feels his own breathing falling in sync. They're not deep breaths. Just shallow rasps, but he's trying.
Andrew put his hand out in front of him. "Can I touch you?"
He nodded haltingly.
Neil didn’t move away when Andrew gently cupped the side of his face, running a finger over the puckered skin. “You’re not there.” His voice was soft, but it practically echoed in the small closet.
When Neil nodded this time, it feels more natural.
Neil shifted in his position on the lowest shelf. He wiggled his limbs slowly, taking stock of all ten toes and fingers. He's all in one piece. He's fine.
He didn’t know what Andrew sees in his glance, but he's happy when Andrew backs up so he can crawl out of the shelving unit. "Yes or no?"
He hated how broken his voice sounded. His father wasn't even here. His father was dead. He shouldn't sound so lost.
Andrew's stare was penetrating. "To what? I'm not going to kiss you. You're having a mental breakdown Josten."
Neil bit his lip. That hadn't been what he was thinking of at all. He almost wished he had been, because it would have been nice to just lose himself in the sensation, let his body be consumed with raw need for Andrew until there was no room for fear.
"Just touching you. Leaning on you."
Neil knew Andrew didn't like being touched. It felt wrong to want to envelop himself in Andrew, to even ask knowing that, but he's desperate.
"It's a yes," Andrew said as he settled down again legs extended in front of him.
Neil curled easily against his side, Neil's head resting in the crook of his neck. It's nice to sit there just listening to Andrew breathing, knowing that there will never be a future where Nathan Wesninski will get his hands on this bright spot in his son's world.
"I should be happier."
"Bullshit. There is no should."
"He's dead. He's finally dead. That has to mean something."
Andrew adjusted himself to free one of his hands. He threaded it easily through Neil's hair. "Maybe someday it will. When was the last time you thought about him before today?"
Neil wanted to snap back that he'd never stopped thinking about his father, that every decision he made was just one in a long way of keeping himself safe from Nathan Wesninski and his subordinates. But he couldn't. For the last month or so, Palmetto had felt safe.
He'd spent nights marathoning movies in Andrew's apartment and stolen moments on the roof. He treasured Matt's laughter and the yell of joy at grocery deliveries that was quickly hushed because babies are fickle things that never stop crying. He even thought of Allison trying to convince him to let her take him shoe shopping.
Slowly Neil had built something, something untouched by his father. And then his gloating face had come crashing into it, ruining something even in death.
Andrew took his silence as a sign that he was right. “They come where they aren’t wanted. Doesn’t mean they get to stay.
Neil hummed and leaned more of his weight onto Andrew.
“Do you have any other clothes?”
Neil looked up at him confused.
“You’re not staying here,” Andrew said as if talking to a small child.
Neil pushed himself into a standing position, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet to try to give credence to his protests. “I’m fine. I’ve got a whole shift ahead of me.”
Andrew glared. “I’m taking care of that.”
Neil wanted to call bullshit, but he didn’t.
He let himself be manhandled into the locker room where Andrew tossed him some clothes. The black sweats are too short, but the sweatshirt hung comfortably off him. The grey material smelt like Andrew, so he hugged it tighter to himself as he waited for him to get back.
He didn’t jump when Andrew wrapped an arm around him and directed him toward the parking lot.
Maybe he was just done feeling, because he couldn’t even find it in himself to be surprised by the GS Andrew pushed him into. It was much nicer than anything a PT should be able to afford.
They drove in silence. At first, Neil stared out the window letting the surroundings blur as they got on the highway. Eventually though he shifted to stare at Andrew.
Neil wasn't sure how long it had been when Andrew finally pulled off the highway into a dingy gas station. The sun had set at some point, but that wasn't much of a clue. Neil didn't even bother to check the clock when Andrew turned the car back on with his hands full of junk food.
"Do you want to go back to your apartment?" Andrew asked as he viciously bit into the twinkie.
"No." The answer was instantaneous even if Neil didn't know why. He should want to go curl up in the far corners of his bed with the door locked and the world unable to touch him. But the thought of leaving this moment, leaving Andrew felt like too much.
He didn't know when Andrew turned into a safe place. Neil was used to standing on his own, but now it felt like he didn't have to. It wasn't just today. Andrew had been there today, but the trust had been building gradually until Neil realized it felt like Andrew could protect him from the world.
"Kevin's going to ask questions."
Neil barely stifled his groan. While he'd only met the man a handful of times, Andrew's roommate was a common topic of conversation on the roof.
"Why do you even live with him if you hate him so much?" Neil asked.
"Don't ask stupid questions." Andrew said his eyes still focused on the road.
Because he's one of yours. Neil thought to himself.
Kevin was Andrew's in a way Neil could never be. Kevin was the person who stayed even after he fulfilled his end of a deal in college. Andrew may complain about his constant nagging, his hypocrisy when it came to Andrew's sweet tooth, his attempts to get Andrew to join his countless intermural sports teams. But at the end of the day, even when Aaron rejected him, Kevin stayed. And for that Andrew would never let him go.
Still the thought of dealing with Kevin’s seemingly endless energy felt like too much right now.
"The hospital's fine. I can get home from there."
Andrew gave him a disparaging look. "Now is not the time Rabbit. Give me the address."
"I'm surprised you don’t already have it. The lock on staff records too hard to break?"
Andrew snorted as he changed lanes.
He still felt rubbed raw from the way he'd broken so easily even if it had been nearly six years since he'd been near his father at all. So he knew Andrew was right, he couldn’t handle other people. He gave his address even as Andrew smirked.
After leaving the safety of the car, he'd ran about eight miles on the treadmill that had certainly seen better days. Typically he'd prefer to run outside and let the breeze carry his worries away from him. But the thought of people made him want to shrink. He'd take the cheap gym with locker rooms that smelt vaguely of mold if it meant he could avoid interactions with all but two people.
He ran to the hospital the rest of the week too. It wasn't worth trying to navigate the subway when he'd be looking over his shoulder the entire way.
Neil wasn't being paranoid. His father was dead. So were Romero and Jackson. Lola and the majority of the minions he'd met were in prison. But there had to be some he hadn't met. People the FBI hadn't even thought to warn him about. He hadn't expected to live this long and if he had to keep one eye over his shoulder, his duffel bag always packed and a new city every few months to keep living he'd do it.
But for now, he had time. He could make the most of his time at Palmetto.
He knew now that Andrew wanted him, and even though he’d never given the thought of kissing much thought before. He was suddenly desperate for Andrew’s lips on his. Andrew made him feel like he didn’t have an expiration date, like the future didn’t actually matter. For someone always thinking three steps ahead, that felt entirely new. But he thought he could get used to it.
Neil had just finished helping Hernandez check out when Dan walked back onto the unit for the first time.
He did a double take at first. He still had three weeks left on his contract and being reminded of just how little time he had left made him grit his teeth.
Typically he’d already have his next location lined up, but Neil hadn’t even sent in his application yet.
He wasn’t an idiot. He knew prolonging the inevitable wasn’t a good idea. Pretending he could stay long enough to memorize the feel of Andrew’s hands on his scars and their mouths pressed together desperately would do him no favors. Neil knew when he started that anything they started had a clear expiration date.
But seeing Dan with her little yellow bundle made him realize how close that date actually was.
Luckily Neil was spared from giving Dan more than a cursory nod due to Allison practically sprinting down the hallway to the front desk.
Allison’s smile was dazzling as she gestured toward the baby. “I’m so glad to see you. Now give me my niece.”
Dan merely rolled her eyes. She looked more tired than the last time Neil had seen her, but also happier. The dark bags under her eyes were matched by a brilliant smile.
When she hesitated to hand her newborn over, Allison put her hands on her hips. "You're in a hospital Dan. It's not like we don't know how to take care of her"
"And when was the last time you did an OBGYN rotation?"
Allison flipped her blond ponytail dramatically. "I'll have you know I could do it any day. I just like you too much to be reassigned."
"And you'd be a bitch to replace. Here." Dan smirked even as she handed over the baby.
"Oh She's absolutely precious, Auntie Allie's going to absolutely spoil you. Yes she is" Allison cooed as she held the newborn.
Dan watched her with a smile. "Randy's a lifesaver, but I'm not about to say no to more babysitters."
"Wait until she's older. I’ve got enough diapers to change as is.”
Dan snorts.
"So when are you back officially then? I need my bestie back."
"I'm still working out the details."
Allison snorted.
Neil busied himself with sorting through the pain medication records for 409, pretending to ignore the weight of Dan's stare.
But Allison had no intention of ignoring it. "You mean we get to keep him?"
"Honestly Al, he's not a stray cat."
"So?"
"And I haven't asked him yet, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't scare him away in the meantime."
"Of Course Dan. I wouldn't dare." Allison smiled again at the baby before announcing that clearly Auntie Allie was the only one who could give a proper tour and that maybe "We'll even find daddy in time for him to change your diaper."
Dan rolled her eyes but wasted none of her newfound baby-free time in waiting to approach Neil.
"I'm so glad I was able to catch you. I've heard nothing but good things about you since you started."
Neil glanced up from the paperwork, but kept his fingers wrapped tightly around the clipboard. "Most of them from your husband I assume."
Dan laughed good naturally. "You’d certainly think so. I swear if I hadn't already cemented myself as his favorite person, I'd be worried."
Neil grimaced.
"But it isn't just him." Dan stepped closer. "How are you enjoying Palmetto Public Neil?"
"It's fine."
Despite his lackluster answer, she seemed undeterred. "I'm glad to hear it, because we've been so happy to have you here. And since we're always short-staffed, I was able to get the board to approve your transition to a full-time position if you want it."
Neil swallowed, a pit already forming in his stomach. "That's-"
"You don't have to give me an answer now. I was just stopping in today and wanted to let you know as soon as possible so you could get your affairs in order."
She smiled so eagerly at him. He almost felt guilty when he said, "No. I'm grateful for the offer and all, but I can't stay."
"Oh." Dan's voice was so small. She looked absolutely heartbroken.
He grimaced again.
"Well, if you change your mind, just know you're always welcome here."
Neil forced himself to turn back to the paperwork to give her a chance to slink away. He wasn't actually reading, probably couldn't even if he tried.
They wanted him to stay.
And that very fact made him want to run until he couldn’t move anymore.
Neil at least stopped himself from running out of the hospital. He went to the roof, where things had always been just a little bit clearer. Maybe if he could just think, he could make his heart stop pounding.
"Why are you being such an idiot?" Andrew's voice was angrier than he'd ever heard him as he slams the door open. "I can't believe you."
"What's there to believe?"
Andrew stalked across the room toward him. Neil knew what angry men could do, but he wasn't afraid not even as Andrew practically spit in his face. "That you're just going to run off again like a fucking rabbit."
"It's better for everyone." His voice sounded empty even to his own ears.
Andrew dug his hand into Neil's shoulder. "Don't give me that shit."
Neil looked at him blankly.
"He's dead."
"So?"
"So stop running."
"I don't know how." The words were small, but he felt the truth in every ounce of his body. He's never had somewhere worth staying or anyone worth staying for.
Abby had tried, tried so much harder than anyone else. But it wasn't the same. He couldn't stop feeling like the scarred boy who'd come into her care determined not to need anyone. And she was all too willing to watch him walk away. He didn't need to stay anywhere to be worth something.
He couldn't explain why this time was different. Why he ached at the thought of never listening to Allison tease him. Why never talking to Matt again made him want to curl in on himself. He certainly couldn't explain why the thought of not being able to laugh with Andrew, not being able to see him every day physically pained him. He needed Andrew in a way he hadn't needed anyone since his mother died.
Neil was desperate for him to understand. "Tell me to stay. You have to tell me to stay."
"Why should I? Nothing will come of it."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Neil wanted to scream. Scream that maybe if Andrew just asked he'd be able to. He'd be able to force down all the impulses telling him to run, just like he was able to stop himself from running out of the hospital entirely at Dan's offer. Instead he ran to the roof, where it was safe, where Andrew made it safe.
Andrew pushed him away and Neil already felt himself stepping forward unconsciously, trying to close the distance between them.
"It means I'm self-destructive, not stupid. I'm not going to ask when you clearly don't want to. I won't make you."
I'd never make you.
Andrew didn’t say that, but Neil heard it anyway. Because Andrew never pushed when it came to consent, to wanting this thing between them.
It's why he's so desperate for Andrew to understand now.
"It's always been 'go. It's always been 'lie' and 'hide' and 'disappear'." Neil gestured wildly as if trying to grab the words from thin air. "I've never belonged anywhere or had the right to call anything my own. You can't expect me to just know how to-”
Neil trailed off when he saw Andrew's face. It was stony even to his impassioned plea.
He didn't know how he could fix this. He felt like he was hanging on by a fraying thread as it was. "I'm so tired of being nothing."
"Then stop making yourself be nothing. Let yourself have this."
Neil felt himself floundering even more. "It's not that simple."
Andrew huffed and turned away from him. "I don't have time for rabbits or idiots."
He let the door slam as he left.
Getting through the rest of the day was a blur. Neil just kept thinking about Andrew walking away from him and the rooftop door echoing too loudly as it closed. His apartment was no better.
There was nothing in the little apartment that Neil was renting that looked remarkably like home. He was used to packing his life up in to the grey duffel bag every few months. Nothing he bought couldn’t be replaced at any big box store.
It never really bothered him before.
That wasn’t to say he hadn’t noticed how other people’s spaces seemed to fit them. But he had spent so long trying to blend in that he wasn’t even sure what he could add to make the space feel more like him.
He didn’t have the college pictures to string along his wall like Dan and Matt. He didn’t even have the dime-a-dozen motivational posters that Kevin seemed to favor the few times he’d been to the apartment he shared with Andrew. He certainly didn’t have the wall of books that Andrew kept in his own room.
Up until recently he wouldn’t have cared.
But for the first time in his life, Neil was starting to feel like a real person. A real person was supposed to have something that other people could remember them by, to identify them with. Neil had his job and the scars on his face.
And Andrew. Andrew who didn’t seem to care about either.
If anything Andrew scoffed at the desperation he brought to his job when they both know that you couldn’t save everyone, and that most of the time you couldn’t save the people who deserved it either.
But Neil could see the way he cared even if he didn’t make it his entire personality or guiding force. His chart notes were too detailed. His frown all the deeper when things went wrong. He was too good at his job to not care at least a little bit. And there was no one at Palmetto that could deny that Andrew was brilliant at his job.
While others could look at Neil and see nothing but his injuries, there was a way that Andrew looked at him, his eyes pooling like honey that made Neil feel like Andrew was seeing everything but his scars.
Somehow he even looked happy with what he found.
It made him want to stay, to take that little feeling and nurture it until Neil could see something in himself too. Something worth being happy about.
He sent out three texts one right after the other.
The first was to Andrew. “I’m not an idiot or a rabbit.”
It was simple, but it said everything. Neil wasn’t running from this, wasn’t running from Andrew. Tomorrow they could talk, but for now it had to be enough.
“Can I really stay?”
It was less professional than it should be, considering Dan would be his supervisor if everything worked out. But he didn’t have another way to ask. It felt like pulling teeth to even write those four words.
Neil shouldn’t have turned her down so quickly this afternoon. He should have let himself realize how much he wanted this, realize how forcing himself to move again felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind that he didn’t even know he had before.
But he needn’t have worried. Dan’s reply was practically instantaneous. “Of Course!!!! I’ll make sure to go over all the paperwork tomorrow.”
The last message was one he should have sent twelve weeks ago. It was only his address. But Abby would know what it meant. She always did.
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