Wounds of All Sorts


kaydence_icon.gif matt_icon.gif

Scene Title Wounds of All Sorts
Synopsis Kay uses guarding Matt as an excuse to keep him company. Matt decides to test out the newfound evolution of his ability in an effort to help his former partner's wife move on with her life.
Date September 24, 2008

Saint Luke's Hospital

St. Luke's Hospital is known for its high-quality care and its contributions to medical research. Its staff place an emphasis on compassion for and sensitivity to the needs of their patients and the communities they serve. In addition to nearby Columbia University, the hospital collaborates with several community groups, churches, and programs at local high schools. The associated Roosevelt Hospital offers a special wing of rooms and suites with more amenities than the standard hospital environment; they wouldn't seem out of place in a top-rated hotel. That said, a hospital is a hospital — every corridor and room still smells faintly of antiseptic.

Shortly after the departure of Daniel Linderman, the guard at the door enters Matt Parkman's room. Kaydence Lee Damaris is sporting her old Vice colours (that is to say, she's dyed her hair blonde), a half a dozen fresh bruises and a split lip. She smirks briefly at the patient and approaches his bedside to take his good hand in both of hers. "Damn," she chuckles. "I didn't think I would lose the contest for who could look the most like hell."

Seeing Kaydence, even in her current state of disarray, is certainly pleasing for Matt. He smiles a lazy sort of half-smile and squeezes back with his left hand, though the motion is weaker than usual. "Well," he says before wincing due to the bandages around his midsection for the havoc wreaked on his right side. "You been laying in any pools of your own blood lately?"

"As a matter of fact…" Kay winks before bending down to plant a kiss on the man's forehead. "Jesus Christ, Matt. I didn't think I could hurt any worse. And then they told me they'd just wheeled you in. What the hell happened?"

Talking, especially explaining takes far too much air for Matt to deem it best done with actual vocal chords. I was mugged, he begins, keeping his eyes on those of his former partner's wife's. Not…five blocks from home, and I was mugged. Big…black chick. Ripped my arm off. Even though he doesn't speak, Matt still tilts his head to his right side to indicate the limb he feels but doesn't feel.

I was mugged, too. Kay squeezes Matt's hand a little tighter. The bastard kicked the crap outta me and left me in the bushes. How do I look? I've been avoiding mirrors.

"Like crap," Matt chuckles out, his smile regaining strength as he squeezes the woman's hand again. Record night for scumbags, huh? He squints again, then shakes his head. "What's with the hair?"

"Wanted to talk to a suspect," Kay answers, narrowing her eyes slightly. "I heard he prefers leggy blondes. So, I got out the Vice Dye." How many times did he sit in front of the TV with her while her hair was smothered in dye? She swore she would never do that again once she was moved to Homicide. "I'd ask if I've still got it, but it's hard to tell with the bruises, huh?" She sighs heavily and shakes her head, "Gawd, he had big hands."

"And you have a tiny face." Matt laughs again, but the mirth is cut off by the dull pain. He glances up to see if morphine is part of whatever cocktail is dripping into him, not that he'd know what to look for. Seriously, Kay. Cole could knock you silly if she knew how to throw a punch.

She could not. I'm made of tough stuff, Agent Parkman. Kay shoots him a look. "Does morphine make you mean or what?" She rolls her eyes and carefully takes a seat on the edge of the bed. "You look like shit, Matt. But you still look pretty damn good for a man who had his arm ripped off."

Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. Matt hasn't had enough experiences with the drug to really know. "They stayed away from my pretty face. What more…what more can a man ask for, hm?" Truth be told, he is quite glad he's alive. I probably looked worse before Linderman, he thinks, forgetting, due to casualness around Kaydence or perhaps the drugs, that he's projecting.

"Don't you ever scare me like this again," Kay begs. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you or Jude. I can't imagine what it would do to Cole. So, don't go getting yourself killed, okay? Us girls need you."

Matt snorts out a softer laugh and nods. "Right." So the next time I get a flat, I'll be a wuss and sit in my car waiting for some overpriced tow-truck to haul it to an overpriced mechanic. He squeezes her hand again and shakes her head. "The rest of me isn't going anywhere." He can't speak for the arm.

No, you'll call me and I'll drive out there and pick your ass up and my father will fix it up for free. Gawd. Kay brings his good hand to her mouth to plant another fond kiss on his knuckles. "Who'll drink beer with me and scream at football games, huh? We're missing the Jets, and the Raiders Matt. You are so irresponsible, getting yourself all injured."

Sorry, Matt replies, and it carries that tone of the berated friend or henpecked husband. He falls silent then, staring at Kaydence with those typical squinted eyes. It might be out of boredom that he's consciously reaching into the pool of his friend's thoughts. Yeah, that's probably what it is.

"You're too quiet. Get out of my head," Kay warns. "I've got something on my mind, but I want to share, not have it plucked from my mind." She tries to keep her tone gentle, but her expression is stern. I mean it, Matt. I trust you not to invade my thoughts.

With a sigh, Matt relaxes back into the bed and closes his eyes. "Sorry. Go ahead." It's a hard habit to break, especially when there's nothing else to do. Like biting your nails in front of your grandmother.

"I… I would have talked to Jude, but he doesn't understand. As much as I hate to say it, you're my best option. You know what it's like to lose a spouse." Even though his is still living, they've both lost the ones they loved. "When is it okay to start… looking again? Is it ever?" Kay's hand releases Matt's and she gingerly taps one finger to the gash in her lip. Ow.

Of all the things that he could have plucked from Kaydence's head, that was the last thing Matt expected to hear. He does, however, recognize that it took some courage to say. He leaves his head on the bed and watches her carefully, then smiles gently as he looks back to the ceiling. "Gloria," he says, taking a deep, painful breath to return the favor of talking, "one of the dispatchers, kept trying to hook me up with friends of hers. She said one month per year, or some bull like that. I…I really don't know, Kay. Whatever feels right, I guess. Was the guy who hit you cute or something?"

"God, no. That man was a moose. Gloria's been trying to get me to go out with some cousin of hers for years." Oh yes, Kay knows Gloria. "I don't know what feels right anymore. I know I'll never love anyone again the way I love Spencer, but… Does that mean I shouldn't ever even…" Her face flushes and it doesn't take a telepath to know what she's thinking. "Spencer was my first." If you don't count the reason we met. "I miss feeling… like he made me feel."

"Spencer loved you, Kay," Matt says with a knowing smile. "He'd have given you the world if he could've. What makes you think he wouldn't want you to be happy?" The telepath sighs, shaking his head. "And you're wrong. It is different. Janice…Janice already moved on." In a way. Even though she came back, but…there's a silver of righteousness in Matt keeping his own love life pretty dull.

"We were married nine years," Kay says quietly, tears welling up in her eyes. "Today marks nine months." Oh God. It's so wrong. How could I do this to myself? To Spence?

Spencer's dead, Kay, Matt thinks, and while his tone is cold, his eyes on her once again are soft and concerned. "If it's not the right time, it's not the right time. But don't rush into anything. You want that feeling again, but don't…" Matt pauses to wince, putting his left hand on his abdomen to try and force the pain away. "Don't force it."

The cold tone resounding in her head, echoing her own thoughts, causes Kay to break down and sob. She covers her battered face with one hand, trying to wipe away the tears as fast as they appear on her cheeks. "You're right. I know he's gone. But I just can't… I shouldn't feel guilty, right?"

Matt is silent for a moment, but then he's reaching for Kaydence's hand again. "Hey. Hey. You feel what you feel. There's no shame in that." But… "You know, Spencer isn't gone. He's just…he's just dead. I can show you." He thinks.

"Show me?" Kay blinks in confusion, wiping the last of the tears away, because she can't allow herself to cry while the man she considers family is hurting. And especially not when he's trying to help. She lets him take her hand again. "What do you mean you can show me?"

"You still have Spencer inside you. A… conglomeration of memories and your imagination." Matt releases Kay's hand in order to push a button and raise the top portion of his bed so that he's sitting up a bit better. It also makes breathing a bit easier, but that's not likely to last. A lot of this is stuff I read in my dad's file. Kaydence doesn't need to know that that file isn't with Homeland Security, but with The Company. "I can show you the Spence that's in you. Which, after being with him for nine years, I'd say is a pretty good representation."

"What do you mean, show me? Like how when I'm dreaming and it's like he never died?" Kay peers skeptically at Matt. This just sounds crazy. All the same, she trusts him. "You never talk about your father." He's met hers, and she'd always hoped he would return the favour someday. "He's like you?" If he's got a file, he must be…

There is a perfectly good reason why Matt rarely mentions his father, and so at Kaydence's question, he stiffens some and glances away. "In some ways. Yeah." IN others, not so much. "It'll just be… it'll be like a dream. It won't be real. And I can't guarantee it will work. But, if you're up for it, we can try."

"Are you sure you're up for it? You're in rough shape, Matt." Man, do I look so bad that you're concerned about me? Kay's features flicker with concern, but she's also clearly intrigued by this idea. Eager, even. "If you're sure, then I'm game."

It's all mental, Matt reassures Kaydence with a smirk. He lays back then and takes a deep, if strained breath. Refocusing his eyes on Kaydence, Matt squints. The command that comes is strong and wishful, and while Matt put so many negative thoughts into the illusion he mistakenly gave Claire Bennet, this one is strengthened by compassion and familial love.

Think about Spencer. What would he say to you, if he were here?

But when nothing immediately happens on Matt's end, he takes it a bit further, inserting not 'verbal' thoughts, but suggestions. What did Spencer look like days before his untimely death? What does the hallway outside sound like when heard through that open door? What does the door sound like when it's opened and then shut again? What was Spencer's favorite off-duty shirt?

One of Kay's hands flutters up to her mouth while the other rests over her chest when the door opens and in steps her husband. Same unruly hair. Same perpetual five o'clock shadow. "That damn pink polo." She stands up from the bed and takes two steps toward the man before she catches herself. All mental.

As Kaydence buys into the illusion and her own thoughts supplement things in it, Matt finds it easier to pull details from her mind, but there is so much of Kaydence's imagination pouring through, as she so desperately wants to see her late husband there, that the telepath doesn't have to do much to keep up the smoke, as it were.

"Damn, Della. Did some idiot pimp mistake you out on a sting for one of his?" He steps forward, reaching out his hands as if to cradle her face in them. He tuts somewhat condescendingly over the bruises.

"Spence." Kay's eyes close as she lets out a heavy breath. She wants to touch him, but what if there's nothing there? That would ruin it. "Some… dumb fucker knocked the snot out of me and stole my purse," she explains to the illusion of her husband. "They found it, at least. Didn't take any of my cards. Just the cash…" And the tape.

Spencer tilts his head with a mixture of concern and humor. Though they aren't really there, the warmth of his rough hands on Kaydence's face feel real enough. But her husband is soon running a hand through her blonde hair. "Vice," he murmurs. "You weren't carrying much, I hope, if you were on duty?"

It's nearly unbearable. It all feels so real. Kay opens her eyes, tears glistening there. "Something awful happened, Spence…" I don't have to tell him, if he isn't real. It would be worse if he were, wouldn't it? But… But what would he say? "Spencer. There was a man last night. Before I was attacked." She turns her face away, letting the tears consume her again. "I'm so sorry."

Spencer's smile slips from his face at the news, and his hands slowly fall from Kaydence and find they're way nervously into the pockets of his worn, 'Saturday' jeans. It takes a great deal of concentration for Matt to snag the reins from Kaydence's own self-loathing and guilt in order to help her while keeping the illusion viable. Laying on the hospital bed, beads of sweat start to pearl on the agent's forehead.

"I was a lucky man," Spencer mutters, glancing down at his shoes. "To've had you for as long as I did. But…well, you're young. You've got needs. What kind of guy would I be if I hung over you like a shadow the rest of your life?"

"I don't want anybody else!" Kay sobs loudly, reaching out for her husband. "I just want you back!" She buries her face into his chest. "You saved my life. You're my hero. What am I supposed to do without you?"

"Live," is all Spencer says as he wraps his arms tightly around his wife. "Be happy. Show me that I did right by you. Besides, if you mope about all the time, how is Cole going to grow up?"

Matt blinks. That wasn't him. How deep does this guilt-complex go?

"I can't take care of her," Kay admits miserably. "Our house isn't a home without you. I cry every night that I crawl into that bed and you aren't there beside me. I can't forget you, Spence. I don't know how to— She has your eyes. And when she smiles, they light up just like you do. I cry every time our little girl smiles. What kind of mother am I?"

"A good one," Spencer says somewhat gruffly, holding Kaydence tighter. "And strong, too. You should be happy to see me there, and anywhere else. Not sad. Don't let me hold you back, Della. You know that's the last thing I want to do."

"You're right," Kay murmurs. "Of course, you're right. But it's so hard. God, I'm punishing our girl just because I can't have you here." She pulls away and traces the oh-so-achingly-familiar lines of his face. "I… I'll try harder. I swear, I will. I'm just so scared. I miss you."

Spencer smiles back, letting his own hands rest at the woman's waist. "I miss you too, but I'm in no hurry. It wouldn't be fair to want you or Cole back in my arms that fast." He lifts his hands then, cradling Kaydence's face once more. "Promise me something, Della."

"Anything, Spence." Kay smiles at the figment of her husband, her heart in her eyes. "Just name it, and it shall be done." Her hands slide away from his face to rest on his shoulders.

"Promise me you'll be happy," Spencer says, his eyebrows furrowed in his oh-so-serious expression. "Promise me you'll make Cole happy."

"I promise Cole will be happy." It doesn't take much. Kay and Spencer's is an easy child. "As for me…" Della shakes her head. "I'll do my very best. It's just so hard without you here."

"You can do it," Spencer says with a gentle, understanding smile that twinkles in his eyes. "Hell, Della. You had a baby, about squeezed my hand off, and then smiled after. This should be a piece of cake." He pulls her close again, burying his face in her hair for a moment. "I'm here. In you. In her. But don't let me drag you down. Let me keep you up, okay?"

Kaydence chuckles softly as she lets him pull her in for another embrace. "Whose hand am I going to squeeze off, though?" But she nods. "I love you, Spence." She closes her eyes and lets out a deep sigh. "I always, always will. No matter what happens or who comes along."

"I love you too, Della."

Slowly, so slowly that it almost seems like it isn't happening, Spencer fades away, but as a last effort of compassion, Matt triggers his final words to echo in the woman's mind.

When he's gone, it breaks her heart, but even then… It was precious moments with her husband she didn't have before. Kay turns slowly to face Matt, eyes wide with wonder. "Thank you," she whispers, voice not lacking in emotion.

His brow soaked with sweat, Matt looks exhausted. His breathing his shallow, and both of his hands are curled tight into the sheet. He manages a smile though, nodding his head as best he can without lifting it from his pillow.

Kay's startled by Matt's appearance, once it really settles in. She rushes to the lavatory in his room in order to dampen a wash cloth and return to mop his brow gently. "Damn, Matt. I asked you if it was going to be all right. I should have told you no…" She smiles down fondly, even if she is a little annoyed that he would over-extend himself, "But I'm glad you did this. You gave me my husband back. I feel… amazing."

Matt relaxes somewhat when he's pampered with the damp cloth. "S'nothing," he mutters, a weak smile curling on his face. It apparently wasn't bad, for his first real attempt. But at the same time, Matt wouldn't be upset if Kaydence didn't ask for another example for a long time. Sighing, Matt swallows and adjusts his shoulders with a wince. "I'm tired though. Rough night, you know?"

"Tell me about it." Once content that he isn't going to fall apart, and that she isn't going to need to explain to a nurse what happened, Kay withdraws the cloth. "I'll let you get some rest. I'll be right outside. Just give me a mental nudge if you need anything." With a parting smile, she wipes her eyes one last time and heads out to the hall.

September 24th: Small Favor
September 24th: One is the Loneliest Number
Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License