Chapter Text
Richard left early and quietly the next morning. Still half-asleep I barely caught his whispered 'bye, go back to sleep' and his quick kiss on my forehead. With Richard gone I felt more anxious, I didn't feel like I ever fell properly back to sleep, and I didn't rest the same way I did when he was there. The anxiety along with the pain and the boredom made me restless, and I forced the nurses to help me out of bed for little walks across the floor several times that day. The little excursions were always followed by a wave of agony and exhaustion, but I refused to ask for more painkillers, knowing that the longer I needed them, the longer they would keep me in the hospital. I was just about to doze off, the pain after my last walk finally receding enough to let me relax a little when the sound of the door opening brought me back to reality. I was surprised when Richard walked in.
“Hello! James and Jezza says 'hello' and 'feel better soon'. Also, they wanted to ask you what was the point of being hit by a bus, they forgot to ask you about that yesterday apparently,” he said cheerfully.
“Richard... You're here?” I croaked, unable to hide my surprise.
“Yeees... Shouldn't I be?” He frowned.
“No, I thought you would've... gone home.”
“Why would I do that?” Richard looked nonplussed as he sat down on the edge of his hospital bed, depositing an overnight bag next to him.
“You said... you were leaving, and I thought you were leaving leaving. I thought that with a really long studio day and everything you would've wanted to go home...”
“When I said 'leaving' I didn't mean like that. Why would you think I'd want to go home?”
“Well... You must be sick of being cooped up in here with me, Richard, you've been here for what, over a week now!? I just sleep all the time anyway, it must be driving you mad?”
“No, I'm fine, I'm not sick of it,” he says flatly, almost childishly.
«Richard, I hate to... I don't want to be a bother, I've already done enough by getting myself into this. I... know I scared you a bit, and I'm sorry about that. And I really appreciate that you've been here for me, but...”
“Scared me a bit? That doesn't even begin to cover it, Ronja," he said, far louder than I had expected. "For five days I sat here, wondering if I was sitting here on your deathbed or not! I wasn't worried, I was fucking petrified!»
“Richard, I'll be fine,” I reassured him. “I just have a few broken bones, they'll heal soon enough. You don't have to be here with me, I hope you don't feel like you do? Like you're obligated or something? I mean, I'm not your responsibility, you shouldn't have to waste your time sitting here, you're not family, or my husband or...” Something, maybe his patience, seemed to snap in Richard.
“You once said I was the closest you have to any family, Ron! Those were your words, not mine. And I'm here, and even if I'm not family, I still worry about you as if you were!”
“Oh come on, Richard, you don't have to worry about me! You must have so many more interesting things to do than sitting here watching my bruises slowly turn from purple to yellow! You have work to do, lots of work I'm guessing, you have the recordings, and writing, and the dogs to take care of...”
“But... Who will care for you?” He challenged.
“I can take care of myself? And I have the nurses here to help me... I'll be just fine,” I said stubbornly. I didn't even know what I was doing, why I was saying these things, why I was so intent on getting him out of this hospital room.
“Oh for god's sake!” Richard barked, getting up from the bed in an act of frustration, rubbing his face tiredly. “Of course I know you can take care of yourself, that's all you bloody do, isn't it? You can deal with everything on your bloody own, can't you, but that doesn't mean you don't always have to! Would it be so awful to accept some fucking help once in a while? I mean... You were there for me when I was in the hospital? When I busted my nose? Why can't I be here for you?»
“Yes, but... that was my job, I was at work,» I argued.
«So is that the only reason why you were there?» He asked coldly.
“No, of course not, I didn't mean it like that...” I stammered incoherently. The anger that suddenly flared up in him stuns me, making me unsure.
“Then what?” He snarled, almost shaking now, throwing his arms out. I had seen Richard angry more times than I can count, but that had mostly been him pretending, acting his character as the short, angry bloke. This was very different. “You know what? Forget it. If you are this determined to manage everything on your own then fine, what's the point in me being here? I'll just go away and leave you to it. I'm just sorry I had to sit here for five days terrified that you were dying from me, only to find out you don' 't give a shit whether I'm here or not.” Turning on his heels he grabbed his overnight bag and stomped out of the room. The door slid slowly shut behind him as I listened to his footsteps disappearing down the hall. Staring at the now-closed door I blinked slowly, hardly even aware that I was crying. The worst part is that I didn't really know why I had said the things I did. I needed him to be here, but I was terrified of becoming too dependent, of expecting anything from him. I was so scared of finding one day that I really need him, only to discover he wasn't there. He said that I didn't have any family – is that why he had insisted on being here? Did he feel obliged to be here, because he knew that I didn't have anyone else? I appreciated his concern, but I didn't want him to be here just because he felt like he should, because he knew he's the only one I have. I'd never had this before, someone who wanted to be there for me, I wasn't used to it and had no idea how to handle it. I hadn't expected him to take it like this, though. I hadn't just frustrated and disappointed him. The thought that I had actually hurt him, on top of everything else I had caused, was too much. After everything he had done for me in the past week, what did I do? I practically chased him out of the room, adamant that I could manage on my own. What a fucking awful human being I was. Gasping for air I let the sobs take over. The emotional pain of the regret and guilt I was feeling blended with my physical pain, for a while I couldn't even distinguish one from the other. Eventually, the tears stopped, but they were replaced by a desperate need for escape. The accident, everything that hurt and felt wrong with my body, and now this, it was all too much. Like an angel sent from some twisted, backward heaven, a nurse appeared, obviously on her 9 pm medicine round. She handed me a plastic cup of painkillers, and for once I accepted more than eagerly, hoping that they might knock me out. As I handed the now empty medicine cup back to her she looked pointedly around the room.
“Did your Richard leave? I thought I saw him just now..” Her wording, accidental as it probably was, sent another stab of pain through me.
“Yeah, I sent him home,” I shrugged, trying to be light-hearted about it. “I didn't see the point in him staying here just to... watch me sleep...” As I tried to finish my sentence, my voice cracked completely and my eyes burst with tears again.
“Didn't see the point?” She frowned. She studied me a little before pulling up a chair and sitting down by my bedside. “You know, I was on shift the day they brought you in. I talked for a long while with the nurse who received you when you arrived at the A&E. You were so banged up. She told me you were bleeding from your nostril and even the corner of your eye... You were conscious, but you were making absolutely no sense, between the concussion and the shock you were completely incoherent. They had asked you a hundred questions; could you remember your name, what had happened, did you know where you were, what year it was, what day? Eventually, and for some reason she couldn't really understand, she asked you if there was anyone they should call. You said Richard's name a few times before you lost consciousness again. She couldn't answer why she had asked you that, because if you couldn't answer any of the other questions, why would you answer that? But you did.” She gave me a pointed look.“And according to her, he turned up here fifteen minutes after she called him. And I have watched that man sitting by your bedside for five whole days, hardly taking his eyes off you, being as worried as anyone I've ever seen in here watching over a loved one. Now do you see the point of him staying here?” All I could do is nod slowly, feeling even more ashamed now, my crying rendering me unable to speak. With a sigh, she patted my shoulder gently. “Listen, I'll go get you something to calm you down a little. You're too shaken up right now, this isn't good for you and you need some sleep.”
Three more days was all I could take of the hospital, after that I literally argued my way out of there. I stubbornly stopped using the walker, gritted my teeth, and refused to take more pain medication than absolutely necessary. I blatantly lied to the doctors, insisting that I had someone to help take care of me when I went home. The hospital was making me restless and depressed, I couldn't relax, all I wanted to do was go home. Ironically I had to take a taxi home, and almost immediately I launched into a minor anxiety attack. It hadn't even crossed my mind that being in a car again would now have become something traumatic to me, but it had.
I hadn't heard anything from Richard, and I hadn't tried to contact him, mostly because I wouldn't know what to say if I did. I was too ashamed, and I wouldn't even know how to begin to apologize. As soon as I got home I called Kristin, telling her that I'd been discharged from the hospital but asked her if she could keep Sprocket around for a while longer, a week or so at least, as I knew that I wouldn't be able to take him for walks for a while. Kind and helpful as ever she said that it wasn't a problem, and reassured me that Sprocket was having a lot of fun with his son Pirate. Having dealt with Sprocket, I only had to find a way to deal with myself. Which was harder than I thought. I tried to do the exercises the physical therapist had taught me, and as a result, I chewed twice as many painkillers as I should. In desperation, I called Tess that evening and asked her if she could do some grocery shopping for me. I hadn't been home for over a week and a half, the bread was moldy and the milk had gone off, and going to the shops on my own was out of the question. Seeing the state of me she nearly refused to leave, but I somehow managed to thank her, pay her for the groceries, and chased her out of the house. Going to the bathroom or grabbing a drink took four times longer than normal, and made me exhausted. But it was better than the hospital, at least I was in my own bed, I had my telly and endless things on Netflix to keep me occupied.
The day after I came home I heard a distant knock. I reckoned it has to be Tess who has come by to check on me, as a nurse I knew she would feel compelled to do that.
«Yeah? Come in!» I shouted loudly. I waited for a voice to recognize, but all I heard was the sound of the front door opening, then footsteps in the hallway. “Hello?” To my surprise Richard appeared in the doorway, his eyes searching around the living room. Coming to a halt in the doorway he glared at me angrily, making it evident that he hadn't come here on a hospitality visit.
«They discharged you?!» He asked disbelievingly, his voice loud and angry. No hello, no how are you. «Don't tell me that was their idea?»
«No, I...» I began hesitantly. His sudden appearance and accusatory, angry demeanor stuns me. With a few winces, I managed to sit up in bed. «I.. convinced them to discharge me, I wanted to go home... To my own bed...» I squirmed under his angry gaze.
“And they sent you home? In the state you're in? Did they ask if you had someone to help you out? Offer home-based care or something?”
“Yeah... And no, they didn't,” I lied, and instantly felt awful for it.
«And how did you think were you going to manage on your own when you got home?” He challenged. I shrugged and shook my head non-committally. Then he eyed the box of pizza I had taken delivery of earlier. “... So that was your plan? To sit here all alone and live off take-out?» There was snide sarcasm in his voice. I didn't answer, I just stared at the pattern on my bedlinen, feeling like a scolded child. «Jesus. You've told me you feel lonely sometimes, but I'm starting to see why you might be! You're so obsessed with being independent, managing everything on your own, being strong, and never needing help. You push people away, Ronja, your friends, everyone around you. People want to take care of the people they love, people need to feel like they're needed, you know? They need to not feel useless. But I can't do that with you, because you don't need anyone, do you? So what else can I do than just leave?» Finished with his tirade he looked hard at me for a while. I said nothing, just fiddled some more with my bedlinen, not knowing what to say, unable to muster up a defense. Mainly because I knew he was absolutely right. Then he suddenly sighed, turned around, and headed for the door, doing exactly what he said he would. Leaving me.
«Richard, wait..» I began. My voice cracked, I was already crying. Richard paused for a second, his back still towards me. Then he shook his head, in some final, defiant sort of way, like he had really given up on me, then he disappeared. Frozen to the spot, in a bad dejavu from the hospital, I listened as his footsteps walked away from me and the door slammed shut behind him. My first instinct was to chase after him, stop him, hold him back, force him to listen. When I realized that I wam probably physically unable to chase after him, no matter how much I wanted to, I just fell back onto the bed, caving into my emotions. I wanted him to understand, but what exactly?