Page 8 of Hold Me Down

Travis shut his mouth, whatever he was about to say disappearing without a trace. For a few seconds, it had felt normal, the familiar back and forth soothing along the hard edges of Travis's nerves, but this wasn't normal, and he shouldn't be acting like it was.

He should be apologizing, possibly groveling, and Dave should shout and scream at him before the paramedic told them to shut up.

But before Travis could at least make another attempt at an apology, the ambulance came to a stop.

"Here we are." The paramedic put the tablet away. "As we take you out, there may be a bump or two on the way, but be careful to stay as still as possible."

"Don't feel like dancing, anyway," Dave told him, and even with only a shadow of his usual smile, he made the paramedic fold like a cheap suit.

"Good, because I'm not sure we're ready for you busting some moves on us here," he said with a wink before growing serious again when the back door opened.

Once again, everything started to move quickly. They rode Dave in, reporting the basics to the attendee who met them at the entrance, and moments later Dave was getting taken for an X-ray and who knew what else. Travis couldn't follow, could only stand there and watch him leave, and,fuck, it wasn't like Dave was dying or anything, but Travis's hands were shaking, and his heart was hammering, and—

He shoved his hands in his pockets and pulled his shoulders in.

Breathe in, he told himself.Breathe out.

"You can wait for your—" The nurse hesitated before redirecting quickly as she nodded at the door to his left. "You can wait in there. We'll notify you when he's back and ready for visitors."

Travis followed her suggestion after yet another look towards the door Dave disappeared behind.

The waiting room was small, but with only two other people inside—an older couple sitting together and holding hands—there was enough space for him to pace back and forth along the glass wall and watch the corridor closely at all times.

He would know when Dave was back.

Travis would see him, and reassure himself, and then they would go home.

They would go home.

He couldn't tell how many times he crossed that small space in the time it took for Dave to come back, but once he saw him at the end of the corridor, Travis rushed out of the waiting room in less than a second.

"Sir, you can't—"

"I don't mind him being with me in the exam room," Dave cut in. "He's my partner, I want him there."

Saying it like that, he obviously let the nurse think they were a different kind of partners than they actually were, but Travis couldn't care less, really, as long as it would get him into that room with Dave.

And it did.

After he helped the nurse transfer Dave onto the bed, she left saying the doctor would be right there with them, which Travis knew could mean anywhere from a minute to an hour-long wait, so he lowered himself in the chair by the bed.

"Did they say anything?" he heard himself ask, the words slipping out before he could stop them. Before he could come up with something better.

Dave shook his head. "Not really. I mean, we know the obvious—"

The attending came in with a tablet in her hand, interrupting whatever he was going to say.

"Good afternoon, I'm Doctor Ortega, and I'll be taking care of you today." She offered Dave a nod. "I heard you just now, and yes, we all agree there's a break, but I can assure you it's as clean as it could've been, considering. No splinting fragments we can see, and no damage to the knee. The ankle may be sprained, though. Can I have a look?"

Over the next few minutes, Doctor Ortega checked Dave's ankle and foot, finding the earlier sprained and the latter intact, and as Travis watched her closely, he tried not to overthink it and focus on the positives. The break was clean. The foot wasfine. The ankle wasn't, but the leg was going to be immobilized anyway, so it would be secured.

Then Dave asked for a prognosis, and he was so clearly bracing for the bad news that Travis held his breath as well.

"It can take two or three months for the bone to heal, depending on various factors. More, if you're not careful about staying off of it, especially at the beginning."

Travis closed his eyes briefly. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it could have been, given that it was a broken bone—and Travis could hear that snap echoing in his brain once again—but it wasn't great, either.

"And after those two or three months, will I be able to go back to work? I'm in private security, so I'm expected to be in top form."

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