The Shortest Straw [Havoc]

The bar had been closed for the last two weeks, minimal business conducted, just enough to keep things afloat. She'd also seen to it that the man responsible for this, and any who'd had a part in this had had sufficient time to regret their choices crossing her and hers...before they met a grisly end that their associates would also become aware of...a warning. Messing with them brought swift and brutal retribution.

But at best it only brought grim satisfaction, and it did nothing to restore her son's health to what it had been before some stupid asshole with a stupid grudge had gutshot him. Nothing could fix that except for time and if he was lucky and strong enough to pull through. She hoped for their sake he did. She hoped for his sake he did. She was not often an emotional woman, but this had been nearly her undoing, the sitting, the waiting, that damn doctor dancing and hinting around the suggestion that maybe she should start looking into funeral arrangements. She'd swore and ranted at the man until he'd finally left the room...she'd almost been kicked out of the hospital for that one...if it hadn't been for Sam.

With the news of what happened he'd shown up from whatever corner of the globe he'd been off to this time and the pair had taken turns watching over their son as he fought to stay alive. He'd talked her down more than once, he'd talked the doctors and nurses into letting her alone more than once...Sam and his damned level-headedness in the midst of all of this...she'd even grumbled at him, but in the end...was glad he was there. She didn't know if she could have faced this alone, not without probably getting arrested.

It was her watch on, and she was quickly on her feet when he finally spoke, words that actually seemed coherent this time, as opposed to little bits of murmured ramblings before he went back under again.

"Hey." She spoke quietly. "Hey, I'm right here. How ya doin'?"

His eyes were heavy and sensitive as he squinted against the light, unable to take the whole room in from the strain it caused after being closed and in the dark for so long. He swallowed against the dry as a bone sandpaper feeling in his mouth, inclining his head only a bit when he heard his mother approach him, giving her a weak, exhausted smile, "feel like shit...But I'm okay..." He let out a miserable little groan and glanced to the side, a darkened look in his eyes, "hope you made them suffer, Ma." He was not usually a violent person, but that man had threatened his mother, and he'd be damned if he was going to let that slide.

After a moment his face softened and he looked back at her with a curious expression, "how long have I been out?" He reached a heavy hand to rub over his face, "feels like years..." He hadn't been aware of much over the time he'd been out, mumbled voices just barely out of focus, "Ah...Dad...I thought I heard him at one point...Is he here?" He glanced down where the dull ache was starting to become more than that, glancing back up at her, "is it...Bad? A-am I gonna be okay?" He'd been afraid of moments like this when he was a child, the thoughts often kept him up at night, waking up like this was like waking up into his worst nightmare, he realized.

She couldn't help a low, humorless laugh when he said he felt like shit. "Yeah, you've got a right to that...taking a shotgun blast'll do that to a guy." She stood over him protectively.

She also couldn't help a bit of a grim smile at his next words, he could be so much her son, it frightened her a little sometimes how much so. "Only ones those fuckers'll hang out with now are the scavengers." She said quietly, that wasn't a topic she really wanted the hospital staff overhearing. "No one comes in and does what they did...to us...and gets to walk away from that shit."

Her expression grew calm again, more serious. "It's been two weeks...it's been pretty touch and go...but they said you're getting more stable...that you've made it this far so you should pull through now." She'd been worried...no...utterly terrified...that he might not. She didn't know what she'd do with herself if that happened.

"And yeah, soon as your dad heard he came too. We've been taking turns...he's off getting food...taking a shower...whatever."

She reached past all the monitors and like to brush a hand along his hair and cheek. "Can I get you something?"

He looked satisfied when she hinted at the fate of the people who'd orchestrated this whole thing, glancing up at her, "good. That's good." There was genuine relief in his voice as he spoke, the less scummy assholes in the world the better, the less enemies to his mother in the world the better. He gave her a weak smirk, "damn right. No one fucks with our family." He wrinkled his nose in an angry expression, "no one fucks with my mother." He'd take as many bullets as he had to to protect her, his childhood had never been perfect or pretty, but they did their best for him, the least he could do is protect them in turn.

His eyes widened a little when she answered his question, and he half sat up in surprise before letting out a strangled gasp of pain and falling back, "Fuck! two weeks?!" He let out a soft hiss as the pain he'd caused ebbed away, "Jesus...So I was really fucked up but good, then?" His breathing calmed again as the pain passed for the most part and he smiled, leaning into her hand in a childish way when she brushed it along his face, "maybe some water? My mouth's dry as shit, thank you..." He chuckled gently, "food also sounds nice..."

"No one fucks with my son." She retorted just as firmly, arms folded over her chest. She hadn't been a great mom...there were times she hated to admit it but she hadn't even really been a *good* mom...but she loved him fiercely and she tried the only way a woman like her, someone who'd never really ever been loved in her life, someone who'd gotten into the wrong life way too early and didn't know anything else, someone who only knew what dysfunctional relationships looked like...knew how.

"Hey, hey easy!" She cautioned as he tried to sit up too quickly. "you'll tear yourself open again...took 'em 20-odd hours to piece you together in the first place." That nearly a day where he'd been in surgery, trying to keep him alive and piece him back together had been one of the most nerve wracking of her life.

"Well, I can get you some water...they're not exactly letting you eat yet..." She gestured at all the tubes coming in and out of him. "They're feedin' you through some one of these things...don't even know which one..." She brought him a glass of water. "I'd just start wtih kinda getting your mouth wet, not drinking much...otherwise it's gonna fuck up your insides and just fuckin' all come back up anyway." She cautioned, gruff but still concerned.

Grayson managed a tired smile at that despite himself, nodding and chuckling softly, wincing a little at the pain in his stomach, "ugh...Got that right." He smirked at her, though it was less lively and more a ghost of a personality at the moment, he was so tired, he still felt weighted down by twenty heavy stones, all fastened to his limbs and even his head, everything felt too heavy to move as his body adjusted to being awake and effected by gravity.

He looked surprised when she shared just how long it had taken, his eyes looking horrified, "20 hours?!" He laid back and took a breath, "what...What all did they do to me?" He was half afraid to find out, and half hoped that maybe his mother didn't know the full extent of what had been done. He wasn't sure if he would like what she said.

He craned his neck to see the tubes and frowned, swallowing hard, "jesus fuck...I really am fucked up..." The horror sinking in was worse knowing just how close he'd really come to dying, and he nodded only vaguely when she handed him the glass of water, taking a ginger sip to rinse it around in his mouth, "god damn...I'm fuckin' scared ma'..."

"I think it came in at 23 hours and something like 20 minutes in total..." Havoc started, then caught the panic in his manner and bit off the rest of the words.

"You know what...I'm gonna let the doctors explain it all to you, they can talk about the technical shit better'n I can..." She didn't think it would help him to hear half his insides were either gone or stitched back together with miles of thread and stitches, after digging far too much shrapnel out of various organs before they could even start.

She looked at all the tubes too, hating them, hating the tremor in her usually fearless son's voice, hating that she was helpless to fix this, no matter how many people she had headshot and dumped in the desert...she couldn't fix this. "Yeah..." She said with a quiet sigh. "Yeah kiddo, you are....god, I'm fucking sorry..." She brushed a hand over his face again. "Shit...just...I'm sorry." She moved her hand to hold his tightly. "But you're gonna be okay...you're tough as shit, and you made it this far, right?"

There was an exasperated sound of surprise at the length of time that his mother ballparked at him, and he laid back against the pillow and closed his eyes for a few long moments, "fucking hell..." He'd been shot plenty of times before, a small graze or bullet hole here and there, he'd never had this kind of damage done to him, and he didn't even know the full extent of that even, he just knew there was an ache in his guts that was getting worse the more he laid here and the drugs he'd been doped up on started to ebb off, his face became a little more strained,

He'd never been the kind of person to cry, he bucked up and dealt with his problems in a head on kind of way, but he felt hopeless right now, and he couldn't help the tears biting at his eyes as he put a hand over her's against his cheek, moving to press his face into it, craving affection and attention more than he had since he was tiny, "tough...Right...I can...I can handle this..." He gave her his best attempt at a brave smile.