Stand Your GroundPROMPT:
In this chapter, we meet some Turners and learn a bit about Andes in hospitals.22.Downstairs23.Pop24.Cliche25.Memory
Sergeant Evan Turner, 41, born in Buford Abby, moved to Sandford with his family and twin brother, Owen, at age 9. Both graduated from Oxford in 1989 before continuing to backpack through Europe for several ‘classified’ years, involved undercover in anti-drug and anti-terrorism movements throughout the continent, as well as becoming fluent in three different languages. Remained in greeting-card-touch with various ‘contacts’ after returning to Sandford in 1993. Both Turners were wed in 1995, and both have two sons and two daughters.
Currently, Owen Turner is at hospital for a broken arm and severe concussion, and his brother is fighting with their wives in the waiting room.
“I kept telling him this would happen,” Mirabel Turner sighed, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. She had left the kids at home with her parents, who’d since moved onto Elroy Farm.
“Tosh,” Helen Turner, Evan’s wife, snapped, rolling her eyes. “Mira, if you’ve ever given that man any advice, it was to plug his ears so as to drown you out! Now this isn’t anyone’s fault, you know, but that Chief Inspector’s, I imagine-”
“Helen, you mind your tongue,” Evan warned, his usually well-kept hair somewhat disheveled. “If any of the lads overhear you bad-mouthing him, they’re likely to bring it up with me, and I’m in no mood.”
Across the room, Cassie’s extended family, consisting of parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews, as well as Walker’s wife and assortment of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, were sitting in relative silence, apart from the intermittent cough or cry from a baby. Also present were Evan’s eldest son, Zachary, and his baby girl, Jennifer.
Besides that, only the vending machines had anything to say. For everyone else, they were simply too outside their element.
Andy felt a whisper of movement against his cheek, making his head jerk upward.
He’d fallen asleep some time ago, falling forward in the uncomfortable hospital chair to use Andrew’s bed as a pillow, taking comfort in the steady beeping and humming the vital monitors in the room emitted. It felt so alien, seeing Andrew so pale and weak, lying in a hospital bed heavily bandaged, tubes spouting from random places. The staff had let him stay, an uncharacteristic move, but one he was immensely thankful for. He needed to be there, in case Andrew needed him.
“Hey there,” Andrew murmured, his eyes barely open.
It startled Andy terribly for a moment, his heart catching in his throat as he struggled to find the right words. The doctor had said it might take a day or so for Andrew to wake up, the insult was so bad, yet here was, already speaking.
Andrew shifted in the bed, trying to sit up, and immediately Andy snapped out of his mind-blank, lunging toward the bed. He caught himself just as his hand met Andrew’s chest, applying just enough pressure to keep Andrew from rising further.
“You’re not supposed to move around yet,” Andy smiled, willing himself not to cry.
“Right…” Andrew nodded vaguely, lying back heavily. He stared at the ceiling, blinking nearly in time to his heart monitor. “I got shot.”
“…Yeah,” Andy sighed, looking at his hands as he sat down on the edge of Andrew’s bed. “Yeah, you did.”
“It wasn’t…our guy,” Andrew continued, furrwing his brow as he looked slowly toward Andy. “Somebody came in with the gun, and then…”
His memory seemed to fail him there, his face showing his frustration, as his left hand balled into a fist and punched the uncomfortable mattress by Andy’s side.
“Can’t fucking remember
,” he growled, punching the mattress again.
Andy seized his hand, clutching it tightly in his own. Andrew jerked his head around, eyes fixed on Andy’s, both of them asking the same question.
“S’this alright?” Andy murmured finally, shifting closer, turning his body toward him.
“…S’fine,” Andrew replied breathily, his mouth twitching toward a smile.
“I was…so scared
,” Andy admitted, his voice cracking momentarily. He ignored the tears in his eyes, pressing on through the pain to say what he’d really felt, because he wanted Andrew to know
. “I thought you were going to die, and I was so scared
, I just…froze
…And all I could think was that, maybe if I didn’t freeze, maybe I could have-”
“There was nothing you could do, Andy,” Andrew said, reaching up with his free hand and trailing his fingers across Andy’s cheek. “And I think…I remember you, with me…You kissed me…And that’s what I stuck around for, mate…Really, just you.”
“Really?” Andy smiled, feeling excessively girlish, but not willing to give a damn. He was too genuinely glad.
“Really,” Andrew affirmed, his gentle caress turning forceful as his reach stretched, his hand clutching the nape of Andy’s neck, pulling him down until their mouths met.
“Mmmrphyour wounds,” Andy tried to protest, but Andrew only smiled against his mouth as he pulled him down more fiercely.
“I’ll give you
wounds, and all the good kind,” Andrew growled, making Andy laugh, both of them so pleased and relieved that the tears came as freely as the laughter.
Andy was gentle, massaging Andrew’s sides, running his hands up and down his legs, being careful not to stray too close to IV’s or sensors. Andrew was demanding, though, pressing his tongue between Andy’s lips and claiming his mouth, adding to his lover’s moans by wriggling his fingers beneath Andy’s shirt and trailing them along his hip and waist.
“Fuck, Andrew,” Andy gasped, pulling back, panting. “Not here, babe, you’re too-”
“Don’t say it,” Andrew sighed, resting his forehead against Andy’s chest, ignoring his past warning not to sit up. “I know I’m…I’m unfit
“Look at me,” Andy insisted, grabbing Andrew’s shoulders and nudging him in the forehead gently with his nose. Slowly, Andrew met his gaze, such a look of dejection written in his eyes that Andy nearly wept. “When this is all through…come home with me, alright?”
Andrew blinked hard. He furrowed his brow, looked away, reached mechanically for a cigarette before remembering where he was, and then let out a single, quick laugh.
“Andy, we…we can’t do that
,” Andrew laughed, though there was no levity in it as he hung his head. “I lo-… I love you, Andy, I do
…But it can’t be done. People won’t have it. It’s fucking Sandford
, Andy, not London. Hell, even Wells would stand for it, but…It’s Sandford…”
“I don’t care,” Andy said with such conviction that, for a moment, Andrew believed. He believed in Andy, in them
, in being in love with someone without worrying what other people would think. He believed they could make it work, somehow, because he knew that would be worth coming home to. He’d never admit it, not yet anyway, but he believed that was why he hung on. For Andy.
“Alright,” Andrew murmured, and his grin a moment later would have been adorable, even for him, if not for Andy eclipsing him, holding him, kissing him, believing in him, too.
“Nick, wake up,” Danny called somewhere beyond the edges of a dream.
Nicholas floundered in a sea of blankets, breathing hard as he found his way to the surface and shot straight up, realizing slowly that the warm darkness around him wasn’t death, but a combination of black-out curtains and Danny, sitting up beside him, one hand on his back and the other resting on his thigh.
“You was having a nightmare,” Danny whispered, rubbing Nicholas’s back. “It sounded…awful. You wanna talk about it?”
Nicholas turned his head slowly, surveying the dark living room. They had unfolded the sofa-sleeper, pushing the coffee table aside, and had left an extra blanket at the foot in case they got cold. Now all the bedding was wadded on the floor, pillows shoved angrily over the back of the couch, their naked bodies barely outlined by traces of light peeking around the curtains. The sun would be up soon…
“It was…just…” Nicholas panted, still reeling from the dream as he met Danny’s eyes in the darkness. His hand floundered against the mattress before finding and capturing Danny’s in his own. “It was my dad, telling me…something. Dogging me. I tried to run, but…Derek was there…”
“There’s some key information missing everywhere we look,” Danny sighed, shaking his head slowly. “S’like…holes, everywhere. And now we’ve got three at the station and two in Wainwright.”
Nicholas could hear something breaking in Danny. He’d been aware of it more and more as the day wore on; his innocence was failing him. The wonder and excitement he carried into battle like armor and courage was wearing thin in the face of so many strange and overwhelming perrils. The village had become alien in the course of a moment, a morning, a day, and the prospect of walking into it again in several hours wasn’t comforting.
He reached out, this time pulling Danny into his arms, kissing his cheek, his eyelids, his mouth, caressing and comforting him as best he could.
“Andrew’s gonna be alright,” Nicholas murmured, the two of them lying back together, arms and legs tangled as one. “Turner, Cassie, Walker…they’re fine. Everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”
“You said that before,” Danny smiled, his tone warming. “Back when everything exploded
, which I must say was a fantastic
way of ending an adventure.”
“No more exploding,” Nicholas smirked, kissing Danny’s lips, which he found to be pulled into a slight pout. “I’d never put you in danger, Danny. Ever. I love you so much-”
“-But not so much you explode,” Danny joked, and while Nicholas laughed, it jabbed painfully at his heart.
He loved Danny without reservation. It was only a joke, Danny being silly, lightening the mood. He didn’t know about Jillian. He couldn’t…could he?