our lives go up in flames | nell

[JOSHUA DONOVAN DALE]

The sun shone bright as it glanced off the thin blanket of white snow that had settled over Maple Hollow, an illusion of warmth and comfort that would for once not be broken by a bitter chill in the outside air. Temperatures could not boast warmth, but neither did they promise to attack the exposed skin and create misery for any and all that were not fond of the winter months. Joshua turned away from the kitchen window, decision made. He had planned a hike for today and the light dusting of snow was not enough to call for a rescheduling of his plans.

His friend had a different idea, complaining that the weather channel had been wrong about the clear ground expected for the next few days, and he decided to cancel their plans. It was an unexpected wrench but not one that deterred the Fire graduate. It was still a decent day and it was one of the last he felt would be suitable for hiking without the need for gouging paths in three-foot-high snows to get by. I hate winter. "I'm heading out now," he told his wife and sister, kissing the former on the lips and ruffling the latter's hair. "I'll be back before dinner. Craig cancelled so I can't see anything holding me up." He would not have given a direct estimate if he had been accompanied by a friend, for they might have opted to stay longer or else get a drink at the bar before returning home. Alone he had no such obstacles. "Love you." He grabbed his coat, shrugged it on, and went out the door.

The sun had dipped lower by the time he'd reached the mountain trails which he favoured and he figured that he would have an hour or so to enjoy the hike before he would head home to be in time for dinner as he'd promised. An hour was all he needed, really, for he had not brought adequate enough gear to spend much longer in the wilderness. Confident enough that he would not take routes dangerous or twisted enough to get lost, he had not even elected to bring lunch with him. He was to face nature alone with only a couple bottles of water to sustain himself and he was not concerned in the least. This was a trail they'd hiked many times in his childhood and he would not get lost.

The air smelled of frost and pine needles, sharp and clear. His steps crunched loudly as thick-soled boots compacted the snow underfoot, the landscape otherwise silent but for the occasional rustling of wind in the trees. It was a peaceful sort of solitude and it reminded him of why he'd never quite given up hiking even when the childhood trips into the trails had stopped. It was a good time to think and so think he did—about his wife, about his upcoming job, about medical school in January. Thoughts of the attack he'd suffered before the wedding flitted through his mind only briefly, for he was trying to stay positive. Why allow something so grim to taint his otherwise fair mood? He walked on for a while until he found what he deemed to be the turning point, a place where he would be able to rest before he ventured back down the trail and home to his family. He uncapped one of the bottles and took a long swig, feeling relaxed and content. It felt like nothing could go wrong today.

[NELL DOE DALE]

The three of them were bundled up in their winter coats, snow crunching beneath their boots. Cold as it was, layer of snow on the ground wasn't thick enough to prove any hindrance to their journey. They stayed cloaked in the trees, trying to make their footsteps as quiet as possible. For three of them travelling together, it was quite an effort. However, the man they were tailing hadn't seemed to notice them yet. So far he had just been enjoying the hike through the forests, and that meant they could wait until the opportune moment to get to him. It may have been an odd time of year for a hiking trip, but it worked in their favor. They were starting to believe that they might have to lure him out somewhere, but the hiking trails served their purposes well. Especially in the winter, when no one felt up to traveling long distances in the cold.

With a silent signal from Paulie, the other two looked into the distance, squinting to see the figure they had been tailing silently for a while now. He had stopped, taking a sip from the water he brought. Everything was conveyed silently through facial cues as the three communicated with each other, and in the silence they decided now would be the opportune time to strike. The sun sat low and heavy in the sky, and it provided even more cover for them. Bosko approached first and greeted Josh with a, "Hey asshole," before clocking him across the face to blindside him. Before he could make any more moves, Bosko grabbed his arms, pulling them behind his back and keeping a tight grip. Paulie and Bruce approached then, the latter spitting into the snow. Bruce was the smaller of the two, more wiry than built, and his purpose had been decided simply as a lookout.

It was Paulie who spoke to him, hands in the pockets of his windbreaker. He didn't look like a thug, none of them did. They were just average men, the kind you'd see on the street or in the store buying milk. Even on the inside, they were average Joes, just capable of doing more than anyone else for the sake of money and power. It was a requirement for the business they were in. "It's kind of cold out for a hike, ain't it, kid?" He said easily, rolling his shoulders as he thought about this. Cold as balls, but it wasn't enough to take their minds off of what they set out to do. And what they set out to do was right in front of them.

[JOSHUA DONOVAN DALE]

So relaxed and preoccupied by his hike was he that Joshua remained completely oblivious to the men following him as they drew deeper and deeper into the wilderness. The trails were not the sort of place that screamed danger to him, especially with the sun still casting its glow over the landscape and the trail as isolated as it was. He felt safe here with only the forest and the mountains as his company.

That is, until someone stepped into his field of view and approached. He was not wary at first, not afraid, for the man looked fairly ordinary at a glance. He blinked and narrowed his eyes at the unfriendly greeting but didn't have the chance to react further before he felt the sharp pain on the side of his face and staggered slightly from the force of the blow. His expression contorted into an enraged snarl as his hands were pulled behind his back. "What the fuck?" The blow to his face had stunned him slightly and it smarted even as he tried to yank himself free of the man's grasp. He had not been alone, Joshua noticed this now, but he was more occupied with the man holding him. "Get the fuck off me!" His tone was fierce but words didn't do a whole lot of good against muscle power.

It was Paulie's words that chilled him, that gave him pause and made him pay attention. He gave up the fight for a moment, staring at the completely unfamiliar men in front of him with a new found wariness. Kid? He wasn't a kid now, not at six foot three and twenty one years old. But he had been once, young and impressionable, and the nickname had left as much of a mark as anything else the gang had done to them. Who the fuck are they? I don't recognise them! Someone it was scarier when they were strangers. Had the gang reformed? He became aware of how utterly alone he was in that moment and how vulnerable this had left him. Three on one and already restrained? His heart was thudding loudly in his chest and he fought to keep the fear from showing on his face. His mind went into overdrive—he had to get himself out of this somehow, fight them. How? Shit, shit, fuck, I never shoulda came here alone. God damn it. Then it hit him. His knife! If he could just get it out of his pocket...

Only a few seconds had passed in silence with the gears of his brain working faster than ever. Panic mode. "I don't even know you, the hell is all this for?" He tried to sound tough, like he was exasperated with them for catching him off guard as they had, but there was an edge of worry to his tone that he couldn't disguise.

Damn, did his head ever hurt. Deciding that he had to act fast, Joshua took a breath and then twisted as sharply as he could to free his grip from the man restraining him, stumbling unsteadily until he regained his footing and pulled the switchblade from his pocket. God, I wish I carried a fucking gun. It was one of the first times he'd ever found himself wishing for one of the weapons he so hated. He'd feel a lot tougher with a pistol gripped between his hands. There were three of them and they could easily overwhelm him if he wasn't careful so he barely even gave himself time to think as he chose the nearest target and swung the blade, instinctively aiming higher. The face, the neck, the chest—anything to incapacitate him for a moment so that there was one less guy to deal with. He avoided a lunging stab, afraid that getting too close wouldn't end well. Of course, in a fight that was as badly outmatched as this one, not much could end well.

He stepped backward a few paces, breathing hard, trying to keep them all in his field of vision. Fuck, fuck, fuck. How was he going to take three guys at a time, and so far up the trail, too? If they'd been in a more populated area... but we're not. Shit. He didn't say anything, words deserting him. What the hell could you say in a time like this?

[NELL DOE DALE]

The three of them were cool to Josh's enraged. They had expected this, of course, not like anyone enjoyed being ambushed in the woods. At his question, Paule just shrugged. He was the big talker of the group. "Sure you know us," Paulie said nonchalantly. "You know San Lorenzo. You know Jane. You know us." There was no fear in the names. He would be dead soon anyway. They weren't going to let loose ends untied, and Josh was a loose end. He had no direct contact from the mob, save for Jane, and the three of them didn't even know exactly what had happened there. That didn't matter. They were getting paid, Jane had told them to do it, and therefore they had no qualms. The most they knew about him was that he was related to her by marriage, her niece's husband. It made it easier that way -- they didn't have to feel any guilt for it. They may have been bad men, but they certainly were sociopathic.

They expected a struggle, but Bosko hadn't expected him to twist out of his grasp. "Motherfucker," he cursed as he let go, and watched as the guy pulled out a knife. He didn't expect him to be armed, and though that threw a wrench in things, it didn't totally ruin everything. He backed off as he swung with the knife before exchanging a look with Paulie to decide what to do. Paulie moved first, and moved quickly enough to grab his wrist hard, snapping it back as far as it could go. He was a powerhouse in brute strength, so it wasn't hard for him to restrain him again, pulling Josh's arm behind him and wrapping another arm around his neck. "Not gonna try that again, are we, fucker?" he ground out. He watched as Bosko knelt down to pick up the dropped blade from the snow, turning it over in his hand before snorting as he went over to Josh.

He walked over to Josh, waving the knife between his fingers. "Looks like you already got fucked up right bad?" Bosko tapped the blade against Josh's scarred cheek, his face completely placid and unbothered. Turning it over and placing it back against his cheek, he dragged the knife down across the line of scarring, reopening the old wound. "Here, you can have this back, man." He folded the weapon back up and returned it to the restrained man's pocket, giving it a good pat as if he was just a friend returning it. What wasn't friendly was the way he need him in the gut before Paulie let go of him. The two kicked them a few times in the chest again before deciding that was enough to teach him a lesson. That he should not try and get out of this with just a knife.

"Hey Bruce," Paulie called to the other man who'd been looking out around them, keeping an eye out for any stray hikers that might happen upon them. It was him who had carried the gasoline, and he was the one to pour it over Josh. Paulie took the book of matches out of his back pocket and struck one, before dropping it on the man and setting him aflame.

[JOSHUA DONOVAN DALE]

The fear and understanding flashed through his eyes like a bolt of lightning as they widened and a chill shot down his spine. Jane. He had never viewed the woman as much of a threat. She was Nell's aunt and a total bitch—it was all she'd ever been to Josh. He was well aware of her ties to the mob but he had never once stopped to think that he would be in any real danger because of her. Everyone had that one relative and Jane was one of many undesired "family" members he'd gained through his marriage to Nell. He had assumed that he would never have to see her again after he was kicked unceremoniously out of the bar before he could start a fight. And yet her name was mentioned now and every drop of blood in his veins might as well have turned to ice. This isn't the gang. This is the fucking mob. Oh, shit. His thoughts could not properly sum up the dread that he was experiencing. His mouth was dry and his heart was thumping. If he didn't get away from these men, they were going to kill him. He didn't know a whole lot about the mob but common sense was enough to tell him that.

Desperation helped him to break free of his captor but it seemed like it didn't have plans for continued assistance. The knife that had always helped him to feel so safe when he rested his hand against his pocket during a confrontation now felt as useless as a twig in his hands. Do they have guns? Somehow the thought of possible firearms made things worse. He hated guns. He'd never wanted a gun more in his life. "I haven't done shit to Jane," he said, cursing internally at the way the fear crept into his voice. Even in a life or death situation his pride brought shame to him for allowing any negative emotion to slip past his guard. He wanted to ask them to back off, tell them they had the wrong guy and get them to leave him alone. He didn't bother trying. He knew better than that. They don't give a shit who you are.

Deciding that to fight back was his only option, Josh swung the knife with as much strength as he could muster. And missed. It was too hard to watch both of them at once and by the time he registered the fact that Paulie was moving toward him, it was too late to move out of the way.

He cried out in agony when Paulie forced his wrist back, hearing the sickening snap as his knees went weak from the pain and his muscles tensed. Fuck, that hurts. His vision blurred as hot moisture gathered under his lids but he refused to let any tears fall. He didn't want to give them the satisfaction. Even in his own mind he knew it was stupid. They were going to kill him, what did it matter whether they saw him cry or not? No, he thought, a silent response to the question that he did not answer. He looked as frightened and frustrated as he felt, tears be damned. His wrist hurt so damn bad that it was hard to focus on anything else but he was lucid and attentive enough to notice Bosko pick up the knife and come toward him. He struggled against Paulie out of sheer instinct but accomplished nothing, breath quickening as Bosko spoke. "G-Get away from me," he hissed through gritted teeth as he tried to draw his head back and away from the knife to no avail. The metal of the blade was cold as it was tapped against his cheek. They're toying with me. Beneath the fear there was anger but that normally dominant emotion did nothing for him now. He expected Bosko to laugh, maybe deck him again for good measure, but he did not expect the knife to slice through his cheek a second time. He cringed and swore, wishing that he wasn't so god damn helpless.

Immobilized with a broken wrist, he started to realize how dire the situation truly was. They didn't just plan on killing him, they were going to accomplish it. He thought of Nell, of how long it would take her to realise something was wrong. Would she know what had happened or would she assume that he'd gotten lost? Would the police find anything? I don't want to die. He didn't have a choice. A choked sound of pain escaped him when he was kneed in the gut, immediately giving up any and all resistance and slumping when Paulie realised him. He wanted to get back on his feet and try to bolt but it was not even an option, especially given his injured wrist. It was broken, he didn't need a doctor to tell him that, and the stinging pain in his cheek and the throbbing in his gut was more than effective at paralysing him. He tried to brace himself as they kicked him a few more times but it did nothing to ease the suffering. He almost wished they'd just used a damn gun. A bullet to the back of the head would have been easier to deal with than this.

It was the smell that caught his attention first, his eyes shut tight as if he could somehow will himself out of the situation. It was overpowering and it stung something terrible as it splashed across his face and into the cut on his cheek. He whimpered in mixed panic and pain before it clicked—gasoline. The smell was gasoline. Had he been in any other state, he might have let a hysterical laugh burst past his lips. Was his luck going to hold out? He heard the match light and almost couldn't believe it himself as Paulie dropped it and the whoosh of the flames followed. Scream, he reminded himself, and that sure as hell wasn't a hard thing to do when he had been withholding the urge to do so for most of the confrontation. Worried that it might not be genuine or convincing enough, he took a shaky breath and jerked his already broken wrist back with his good hand. Then the scream didn't have to be faked and he hoped like hell that they would get out of range before he passed out from a combination of blood loss and agony and lost all control over what the fire was doing. This was life or death, however, and Joshua's will to live was not going to let him give up after a chance like this.

When he was confident they'd gone far enough not to notice, Joshua manipulated the flames away from himself, coughing from the smoke and almost blacking out from the stabbing pains in his side. Were his ribs broken, too? Fuck. But he was alive. His strength was barely enough to sit up and wrestle the phone from his pocket, his one good hand trembling so hard that it was hard to dial even the simple number 9-1-1. He found himself relieved that he hadn't gone too far to be out of reception range as he heard a female voice on the other end, "9-1-1, what's your emergency?"

[Excuse the ramble My muse decided 6AM was a good time to smack me in the face. Feel free to have the post from Nell's POV where they call her and she shows at the hospital and all that >> Refrained from writing the whole call/him passing out/him waking up in the hospital because you did not need a novel xD]

[NELL DOE DALE]

Nell checked her watch for the seventh time that night, adjusting it to the inside of her wrist. Maybe it was the tenth, she didn't bother counting. All she knew was that Josh should have been home by now. Dinner had been done for two hours and ten minutes exactly. Maybe he lost track of time, she thought at the fifteenth minute after dinner had been finished. It was completely possible. But then she thought of how dark it was outside and that it should have been a cue even if he'd lost track of time. She remained optimistic, though, telling Annabel the things she thought, like how he might have stopped at the store or lost track of the time or ran into car trouble. They seemed so likely that her mind reassured her that this was true.

But it didn't take long before she began to panic, an hour actually. After trying to call three times and having it go to voicemail, she felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Even if he hadn't picked up on the first time, he would have the second, right? And if not the second, the third. She chewed on her lip as she checked her watch for the uncountable time, and hoped it wasn't apparent to her sister. He should be home by now. She worked herself down from her usual over worrying, but she knew this wasn't like Josh at all, he would call her if he was going to be late. Especially this late. As she began considering calling him for the fourth time, she heard the default marimba tune from her pocket. Even though it wasn't Josh's ringtone, she was quick to answer, leaving Annabel for a moment to talk in private.

"Is this Nell Dale?" She nodded her head as the professional-sounding voice spoke her name. Realizing that the woman wouldn't be able to see this, she spoke, "Yes, it is." Nell knew she wouldn't like what she heard next, and it was proven as the woman continued to speak from the other line. "Your husband's in the hospital, we'll need you to come down." For a moment she couldn't speak, didn't breathe. Your husband's in the hospital. If there was a list of things no one wanted to hear, that would have been at the top. Because in that moment she thought the worst -- that she had lost the most important person in her life. When the Earth graduate realized she should answer, she said quietly, "Why? What's happened?" There was no hesitance on the caller's part. She said apologetically, "I'm sorry, ma'am, I can't tell you that over the phone." Nell's shoulders slumped. She swallowed and rubbed the back of her neck. "All right, thank you."

She clicked end and returned the phone to her pocket before turning back to the kitchen. Steadied her breathing. Got her jacket. Headed back into the kitchen as she shrugged it on. "You can start on dinner, Belle." she said. Kissing her forehead, she took another moment to decide what to say to her. "I have to go get your brother." It was vague and a lie. She didn't want to tell the girl that her brother was in the hospital and just leave her on her own. Not until Nell knew what was going on. She tried not to think of the worst. But she had sat stewing for hours, her brain whipping up any scenario it could and then she had a woman calling her, telling her to come to the hospital. It was anything but reassuring.

She shouldn't have been driving in this state, she knew that. But she didn't want to wait for a cab. Annabel might ask her questions. Nell might think too much. She was already thinking more than she should. Drumming her fingers on the wheel. Taking deep breaths, trying not to choke on them. For a moment she forgot where the hospital was and panicked. Now would have been the worst time to get lost. Luckily it was hard to miss, a massive building that she'd only been to a few times before. But not like this. Never without the knowledge of what she would find there. She gripped the steering wheel as hard as she could on the thought.

Even though she wanted to get there as quickly as possible, she also didn't want to take the elevator from the parking garage. She got up the stairs as quickly as she could. Her thoughts screamed in her head all the things that would be wrong when she got there. Did she want to see? Nell went to find the nearest desk on the bottom floor, fingers drumming on the surface as she waited for the receptionist to look up from his computer. "I was told to come down. I'm here for Joshua Dale." He told her the floor, the room, and nothing more. Nothing about what's going on. "Can you tell me why he's here?" He shook his head, said that he didn't know anything except the fact that he was in critical care. Not dead. She looked skyward, took a deep breath. For a short instant she felt relief. He's not dead. And then reality crushed her as she realized it was critical care. The receptionist couldn't inform her why, and she felt indignant. This was her husband, and no one could tell her what was going on?

She walked to the room with trepidation, dreading every step. But when she reached the door, she hurried in. Swallowed hard when she saw her husband in the bed. Nell didn't know what to do at first, her voice caught in her throat. It looked like his scar was opened and god dammit, he looked terrible. She approached hesitantly, placing a hand on the bed. "Oh god, Josh," she said softly, looking over his form before closing her eyes for a moment. He's not dead, he's not dead... This wasn't much better. Her eyes were wide as they could be. "What the hell happened?" He'd just been hiking and now here he was and no one would tell her a damn thing about what happened to her husband.

[JOSHUA DONOVAN DALE]

His thoughts felt slow as he came to, like he hadn't been to sleep in a long time and couldn't concentrate through the haze. The lights above his head were bright and he blinked once or twice to adjust before looking around. Clarity didn't take long to set in when he saw the hospital equipment and looked down at the cast on his wrist. Should hurt... but it doesn't. Whatever it was they had him on, it was working its magic pretty well. He was glad for the reprieve, recalling how he'd passed out from the pain in the first place. He was groggy enough that he didn't feel any kind of concern or panic. He felt slow but was aware and alert enough to know that it was the effect of the drug. Wonder what they've got me on... should ask... He decided a moment later that it didn't matter. It was working, that was what counted.

It wasn't long before one of the doctors in the room noticed that he was conscious and then came the questions. How did he feel, was he in any pain, did he remember what happened? Wish I didn't remember, he thought wryly. Despite the near-perfect recollection of his experience, it didn't frighten him as it should have. Answering the questions took several seconds apiece as he ensured that he didn't trip over his own words. Once they'd gotten the generic stuff out of the way, one of the nurses informed him, "We called your wife." The word wife made his lip twitch fondly but he had to wonder how worried she was going to be about him. He felt bad in knowing that the hospital probably wouldn't tell her what had happened. "Nell... is she...?" The nurse got what he was trying to say before he was forced to form the rest of the words. "She's on her way." He nodded, the movements feeling like they were in slow motion. He would have thanked the woman for calling her but he didn't feel like speaking any more than he had to.

Nell looked stricken as she entered the room—he thought it might have even been apparent if he didn't know her as well as he did. His first instinct was to comfort her, which proved easier said than done when he was drugged up and lying injured in a hospital bed. She didn't seem to know what to say and so he decided that he would speak first. "Hey, Nell," he said, his voice low and his words sluggish. He offered her a small smile, all he could manage in his current state. He felt a bizarre urge to apologise for the condition he was in despite it being out of his control, hating the idea that he'd made his wife worry over him. Guess I'm more Canadian than I thought. It might have made him laugh if laughing didn't feel like such an effort. Everything felt like it would take ten times more strength than usual and he decided that he didn't like the feeling. It was better than pain, however, so he wasn't going to complain.

His gut twisted in sympathy when she closed her eyes and he reached out to take her hand in his uninjured one, giving it a squeeze. He wished there was more that he could do for her. What could he say? 'I'm okay'? He wasn't all right, it didn't take a genius to figure that out. She asked him what happened and he grimaced, clearly dreading what he would be forced to tell her. He didn't want to get into it all, especially not here, so he locked his gray eyes with her brown ones and said, "Jane." He would not lie to her, not to Nell. He would not even sugarcoat the truth to make it go down easier—there was no way to lighten being jumped by the mob. He was sure that she would catch on immediately by the name of her aunt alone. With a smile that wavered to betray how helpless he was feeling, he said, "Sorry I missed dinner." It was morbid, it wasn't funny, but it was his desperate attempt to try and lighten the mood. He couldn't tell her that he was 'fine' because he wasn't but maybe if he pretended he could laugh it off, she'd feel better. He kept his hand in hers, the physical contact his only comfort. I feel like shit. There was no pain but pain wasn't the only thing that could hurt.

[NELL DOE DALE]

When Josh greeted her, it sounded so casual, too casual for this situation. With the way he was speaking, she figured they had him doped on something. Of course they did, and she wondered how much pain he was feeling, if at all. "Hi," she said, her voice close to a whisper. She didn't smile back. She could barely speak, though she was feeling like she had a much better time at it than he did. Was there anything more than what she saw, the wound on his face and the cast on his wrist. Not even the fact that he wasn't dead could reassure her anymore, the simple fact that he was hurt, and this bad, was enough to crush her heart.

She couldn't even muster any reassuring expression when Josh took her hand, and god, she wished she could be better, more reassuring. Nell wanted to smile and tell him he was going to be all right but all she could do was stand there and wonder why she wasn't strong when she should have been. It shouldn't have been up to him when he obviously looked so horrible. If she weren't so shaken, she might have made a joke but she didn't want to joke right now. Especially not with what he spoke next. The name froze her, and even though her expression didn't change much, it was obvious that she understood. He hadn't gotten into an accident, nothing like that -- the mob had done this to him. She looked down for a moment, not even knowing what to say. "I'm so sorry," she managed, shaking her head slowly, before she felt like she could look him in the eye again. The words simply kept repeating in her head on an infinite loop, and it felt like just saying it once wouldn't be enough.

Josh's joking only made her want to wince. She looked for a moment like she might smile, but her lips barely turned up before she bit down on them. Her effort to keep her emotions under control. It felt like if she even tried to smile, she might end up crying instead. It held a very strong resolve in her, the eventually outpouring of tears. But she didn't want to cry, not when her husband was the one laid up in the hospital bed. She couldn't look at him without feeling sick, and she hated seeing him like this. She'd thought finding him years ago in the warehouse after the gang had jumped him had been bad. She'd cared about him, but they hadn't been close. And now it was her husband, and she was the one getting the call, and it was the mob this time. It was no mystery, she didn't have to ask awkward questions in his apartment about some gang. She'd never thought she had to see him harmed again, not after all the gang issues. And definitely not just after getting married to him. It was like all the happiness had crashed and burned.

Glancing behind her, she found the only chair in the room and pulled it closer so she could sit down. Her knees weak, she didn't trust that she could stay steady for long. Placing her other hand over his, she asked, "Uhm, did they say...did they say how long you'd have to stay?" She would have to talk to the doctor, of course, but she wanted to talk to Josh first. Even though it hurt. But there was no way she was going to leave her husband, not now. All she wanted was to hug him but she was afraid to because she didn't what else hurt and thinking about it all just made her head hurt. "Because I didn't tell Annabel that you...crap..." She turned her head up, feeling the tear make its way down her cheek but too prideful to allow him to see. Nell quickly wiped it away, but she knew that it wouldn't be the last tear. "That you were in the hospital," she finished weakly.

[JOSHUA DONOVAN DALE]

Somehow the fact that Nell was unable to muster a smile made Josh feel even worse about all of this. He knew what sort of a condition he must be in, what she must be seeing. I'd feel the same way if it was her. He didn't blame her for the fact that she couldn't smile at him and try to reassure him. There was nothing to be said that could reverse the damage that had already been done. The medication made him feel fuzzy and tired but the physical pressure of their interlocked hands was like an anchor keeping him grounded in reality. He didn't know if he wanted to be conscious right now. At least when he'd been under, there hadn't been any need to pretend. It was hard. I've gotta be tough for her sake. It was hard to stay strong but she was having the same difficulties he was and so he was determined to remain the rock upon which she could count. He'd always been stable, he'd always done his best to be reliable. This wasn't going to be any different.

He tightened his grip when he saw the understanding in her gaze. It was weaker than usual, not as firm and solid, but it was the only thing he could think to do. He bit his lip when she looked down, the first open sign of distress now that she wasn't looking at him to see it. Oh, Nell. The worst was that he couldn't say anything to make her feel better about it. He couldn't insist that she couldn't have known, that it wasn't her fault, that it had nothing to do with her, because Jane's issues were with Nell. He knew that she would never wish it upon him but he would be lying to her if he insisted she had no responsibility. He took a slow and deep breath, releasing his lip and feeling relief in that it didn't tremble or otherwise give away the emotions that were conducting an assault on his thoughts. Fuck, I have to say something. "I..." He trailed off, brows furrowing together as he realised how difficult it was to express what he was feeling. I don't know how to handle this. It was too much. If he told her that he accepted the apology, that he forgave her... that was forcing the responsibility on her shoulders, wasn't it? If he told her that it wasn't her fault, that was lying. He couldn't lie to her. He pressed his lips together and decided that silence was the only solution. God, I don't know what to do...

He didn't want to stay in the hospital any longer. He felt restless when he was forced to lay practically immobile in a bed staring up at the ceiling and wondering how much it was going to hurt when they took him off the drip. They told him that he needed to rest, to relax, and all he wanted to do was get better. Ugh. "They said..." He started slow and then trailed off when Nell turned her head away, the words catching in his throat. It hurt him to see her like this. He might not have seen the tear in its physical form but he knew Nell enough to know what was going on. He had never done well with crying. It made his chest hurt and his gut twist and it took a great deal of willpower not to let the emotions get him in a stranglehold as well. He lifted his hand to bring hers closer to him and pressed his lips lightly against her skin. "I'll be all right, Nell," he said. "It's okay." Well, it wasn't, not at the moment, but he had to believe that it was going to be. If they don't find me again. He didn't voice that grim thought aloud. He didn't want to scare her when she was obviously in such a negative state already. Who could blame her?

He could understand his wife's reasoning behind not telling his baby sister what was going on. She wasn't much of a baby any more, almost fifteen, but if Nell had thought that something worse than simple injuries had happened to him then he didn't resent her the choice. "They said... said they wanted to keep me overnight." His tongue felt thick and he had to repeat the word to avoid tripping over it. He didn't add the morbid 'just in case' that they'd reasoned to him with. There was no internal bleeding that they could see and he hadn't punctured a lung or anything like that but they had insisted for his safety. He was sure Nell could probably guess at their logic but he was not going to verbalize it. "I..." He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed deep. Don't lose it in front of Nell. "I don't know if I want her to be here." He wet his lips anxiously and tried his best to keep the distress from his voice as he spoke and his eyes as he kept his gaze on hers. "I don't want her to see me like this." Oh, he couldn't hide from her that he was in a bad state. He'd go home with a cast on his wrist, a fresh wound on his face and a tendency to wince if he so much as breathed too hard but it was better than her seeing him in a hospital bed. He only regretted that Nell had to witness him at his worst.

Running his thumb over her hand, he looked concerned as he asked, "Will you be okay?" It hardly seemed like he needed to be the one to ask that question but it was plain to him that Nell was in a state of great distress. He didn't like to see his wife like this. He wanted her to be happy.

[NELL DOE DALE]

Nell didn't know how to handle any weakness in her husband. That wasn't Josh, he never showed weakness, he never got hurt. Over the course of their relationship she had grown dependent on him as her sole source of support. She had expected nothing to change, because he'd always been there for her through thick and thin. And in the drive to the hospital, wondering if she'd be finding him alive or if she'd have a doctor apologizing to her, she realized that she would be lost without him. He was still alive but he was so hurt and anyone else, she could have been strong. Anyone else and she wouldn't have been so broken up, she could have comforted them but this wasn't anybody.

She didn't want him to speak, to say anything because he didn't owe her that. She was glad he'd stopped in whatever he was going to say. When he told her who had been responsible, she knew that behind it all, it was her fault. They didn't even finish the job. It was a thought she didn't want to have, because she understood the mob too well by now and that they didn't allow screw-ups. Jane wouldn't allow screw-ups. She never felt so much hate toward the woman and so much self-loathing toward herself, or such guilt toward Josh. She had made mistakes before, she felt like she had made the majority of them in their relationship, but this was the worst. Her goals had been to protect him, to protect anyone around her, and yet she couldn't have seen this coming. Jane's inaction had lulled her into a false sense of security, and Josh had to pay because of it. God, I'm a terrible wife. The thought joined in on her mantra of I'm so sorry and she wanted to tell Josh that over and over again but it wouldn't heal him or make him feel better.

She realized that she'd interrupted him with her crying, but she couldn't hold it back. Usually she wasn't so emotional, he knew this, but she couldn't help it that her throat hurt and she couldn't help that seeing him like this was quite possibly the worst experience in her life. She took a deep breath as he kissed her hand, letting his words comfort her some, the same way a child is comforted by the simple sound of its mother's voice. It didn't feel okay, he didn't look okay, and though he would heal it wasn't even the start of her worries. "Yeah," she murmured. It wasn't okay, though. And she felt another tear fall and she didn't bother to stop it this time. She'd given up on any semblance of pride.

She nodded her head as he spoke, understanding that it was just standard to keep them there though she wished he could come home tonight. Even though Annabel would have to see him and she would ask questions, and what would they even tell her? Nell felt sick again. The guilt took full hold of her and she let her eyes flicker to his, even though she felt like she'd betrayed him. Every move he made was another knife to her gut, and she just wanted to slap herself into being the supportive one like she needed to be right now. Josh had seen her absolutely fall apart but he'd been strong, and now she couldn't even do the same for him? Such a terrible wife... "I understand," she said when he told her that he wasn't sure he wanted Annabel to come. "I'll call her and tell her I'm staying overnight. She'll be okay on her own." She was a teenager and she could take care of herself, though Nell felt terrible for leaving her to worry about her brother all night. It was a really shitty thing, but she supposed everything was.

She once again tried to smile when he rubbed his thumb against her skin, but it was barely there. Why was he even asking her this, when he was the one in the hospital bed? "I'll be fine as long as you are," she said honestly, glad that she at least didn't cry again. She mustered a little bit of strength in that department, though she didn't think it counted for much. "Uhm...what else is...wrong?" She asked it quietly, awkwardly, not knowing how to question him without saying how bad they messed him up. She didn't really want to know, but she needed to know, and her emotions battled for dominance while neither of them won.

[JOSHUA DONOVAN DALE]

Nell's tears were practically his kryptonite. Joshua was strong, he could handle a lot of things, but watching his wife struggle against falling to pieces in front of him was one of the most difficult things he'd ever endured. Stay strong for her. He kept repeating that to himself over and over again as if it would make things easier. It didn't but he kept it up because he felt that it was the only thing he had. He wished that he didn't feel so sluggish. A childish part of his mind wanted to blame the medication for how helpless he was feeling—like if his head was clearer he would know just the right thing to say. He was no child to be comforted by excuses, however, and logic would not allow him the security blanket. He couldn't think of anything to say because there was nothing to say.

Please don't cry, Nell.

He didn't speak the plea aloud, not wanting her to feel any worse than she already did. He wouldn't deny his wife the right to shed a tear when he considered how close she'd come to losing him. Hospitalization had never been their goal. They'd been trying to kill him and he was sure that Nell had picked up on that the moment her aunt's name left his lips.

He didn't want her to have to call Annabel. He wanted to phone his sister himself and act like everything was just peachy so that Nell didn't have the burden on her shoulders. You don't sound good, he reminded himself. His sentences were as slow as his thought process and he sounded drained, like every word was some Herculean effort. It would only scare her more. He trusted his wife to make things sound better than they were. I'm so sorry that you have to deal with this. He felt like he was a burden with his injuries and his pride was smarting terribly. It made him feel like an invalid. He'd always been so used to doing things on his own and now he had to rely on his wife when she really deserved more than this. That Nell was going to be staying overnight was more comforting than he wanted it to be. He felt like a child as he realised that he didn't want to spend the night in the hospital alone. He just wanted to go home more than anything else but at least he would have his wife by his side.

He looked worried at the question and it was clear that he had been dreading it. They wouldn't have told her anything, he reminded himself. He had to stay strong and tell her what was wrong with him. Better to hear it from me than a stranger. That stranger, of course, would be the doctor who would undoubtedly want to go over some things with Nell about her husband's condition. She wasn't blind and so he didn't go into any detail about the mark on his face. He nodded down at the cast. "Broke my wrist." They'd broken it for him, more like, but he was sure she knew what he meant. "Couple of ribs, too." He looked away from her almost guiltily, not wanting to see the look on her face when he next spoke. Don't be a pussy, he scolded himself, forcing his gaze back to hers. She needs me to be all right. "They're... it's bad, they said, but..." He'd injured ribs before but these were bad fractures, multiple fractures. He had to pause to sort out his words again. "Nothing punctured, no internal bleeding... I'm gonna be fine, babe." He forced a smile. It was strained. "Promise." He hoped the words sounded more authentic than they felt.

He was sure he'd be bruised and banged up something terrible if he were to strip down and examine his torso but bruises were the least of his worries. He didn't bother mentioning those. Trying to be reassuring, he added, "It's standard procedure to keep me overnight, that's all. We'll go home in the morning and everything will be all right." Please let everything be all right. He didn't know for sure that there would be no complications. He was hoping and he was telling Nell that he didn't think there would be and he didn't want that to end up a lie. I need to be okay. If only he had as much control over his condition as he did his reactions to it. He squeezed her hand again and let a brief flicker of his true feelings show as he admitted, "I'm glad you're here, Nell." He didn't want to be alone. He couldn't handle this alone.

[NELL DOE DALE]

Josh looked as upset as she felt, and she really just wanted to pull it together for his sake. He was the one who deserved to be crying right now, not her. She shouldn't have even been the one to need any reassuring. Why was he asking her if she was going to be okay when he was the one who had almost just died? Her breath caught in her throat just thinking of that, thinking of anyone hurting him and it was something she had never even imagined, let alone wanted to happen. She wished she had told him to stay and not to have gone out -- but she could have never predicted any of this. No cosmic warning, nothing to use to hold to him and not to have let this happen.

She really didn't want to hear, she realized as he started in on it. Apparently broken ribs could be added to what she couldn't see, and she just nodded her head, letting her eyes roam his body as she tried to keep her breathing steady. It helped with the tears as they slowed and stained her face. She didn't want to hear that it was bad, it was a physical pain in her own gut, but she tried not to shut it out. She needed to know what was wrong, as much as she hated to hear it. I hate Jane, I hate her. And she thought that too many lines had already been crossed, but this was it. Any sympathy for the woman and what she had been through before didn't even matter anymore. She searched his eyes as if she might not believe him when he said he was going to be fine before nodding shortly. "I figured..." She took a deep breath. "I figured the doctors took good care of you. Got you high as a kite and everything." Her own attempt at joking as if to say yeah, she would be okay too. Even though the weight of this still crushed her, she needed to get through it, get over it. It's your own fault. She didn't feel like she had a right to be sad.

She wanted to believe everything was okay because he said it. Usually she could believe him, but it was clear that he wasn't feel very up to snuff. Once the drugs wore off, she knew he would be in pain and she would have to shape up. If he hurt, then she would take care of him and that was that. She would make sure he was okay.

Nell nodded her head. One night wasn't very long at all. They had kept Angela overnight just for stitches because they were worried about any trauma, they had kept her for a week because they were deciding what to do with her. She could handle one night. He could handle one night. It would be fine. "I guess it's better...to make sure everything's okay before you go." If something ended up going wrong, she didn't know what she'd do. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think about a lot of things, but mostly she didn't want to think about the pain her husband would be in. When Josh squeezed her hand again, her eyes caught the ring on her finger and instead of making her happy as it usually did, it made her feel like scum. But this time she had actually managed a smile, though her thoughts were very unkind to her. Her shouldn't have been glad. "I'm glad I'm here too," was all she could say, really. It was pretty laughable, and she wished she could do something better but its not like she could hug him or kiss him or anything physical to comfort him. And she was left with words, which definitely did not work for her.

To keep herself from thinking too much on that, she asked him, "Are you hungry? Can I get you any food?" As he had joked earlier, he had missed dinner and she didn't know whether the drugs would allow his stomach to handle food or not. But as she was at a lost of what else to do, it seemed like a little something that may help. Any small way was enough for her at this point.

[JOSHUA DONOVAN DALE]

It was as if the guilt was curdling in his stomach, causing him physical discomfort as he watched the tears slide down his wife's cheeks. He hated seeing her like this. She hated seeing him like this. There was nothing all right with their situation and he wished that he had some kind of power and control over it. But I don't. It was not a thought he wanted to come to terms with. It meant a lot to him, then, when Nell made an obvious attempt at thickening her skin. He laughed, the sound muted and weak but a laugh all the same. "Doesn't feel like I expected it to," he admitted. "Nothing hurts," he tried not to add yet in his head without success, "but it makes it a bit hard to... talk." He paused before speaking the word, deciding that it was indeed how it felt. Everything was slow. Not like it was happening in slow motion, more like the rest of the world was going full speed and he was trying to wade through an ocean of molasses. He couldn't necessarily call it a bad thing, as he was sure he'd feel a lot worse without the medication, but it wasn't the best feeling in the world either. His emotions weren't helping his mood.

He was quick to dip his head in agreement, anything to assert the idea that he was going to be just fine. They might have both been lying to one another and to themselves to make the situation a little more bearable but all he knew was that he wanted those tears to stay gone. It was so much easier to handle things when they were both strong. He didn't want to stay overnight in the hospital but he would avoid arguing against it because he knew in his own mind that it was for the best. Just in case. It still sounded ominous but he knew that it was all they could have told him. That'll be me one day. It was a strange but oddly comforting thought. He'd be the one to patch up injuries and reassure patients before the family was called. He would have to make a point to thank the doctor who had fixed up his wrist when he got the chance. Perhaps he was biased but Josh didn't think that doctors got enough appreciation for their work. Maybe the money was enough for some of them.

He had no idea how Nell was feeling. If he had, he would have done his best to tell her how wrong she was. He couldn't get through something like this without her and regardless of how much responsibility in the situation was on her shoulders, he would not truly blame her. He did not resent her. He wished things could have been different but they weren't. Nothing he could do about that. She asked if he was hungry and he took a moment to consider that. Would it be safe to eat anything or would it make him feel worse? Better not. He didn't feel much except for disoriented and thirsty. "I could go for water, or something? I don't know if I should eat yet. Maybe in a couple hours." He wasn't sure how well he'd be able to keep everything down and that thought made him bitter. He didn't want to have to make compromises like this. He wanted to be able to eat as much as he wanted without worrying about the consequences. God, he hated feeling like this. Don't say that to Nell. She wasn't stupid but she was dealing with enough. That was what he kept telling himself. She had enough on her plate. They had to be strong for one another.

He realised then that there were going to be more people that found out, more people to tell. He couldn't even hide it from his friends thanks to the cast. That could all wait. The only person he wanted at his side right now was Nell. He loved his sister, his parents, his friends, but Nell was the one who he needed. He might never admit it but he relied on her as much as she leaned on him. She was his wife. "I love you," he whispered. He felt like it had to be said, especially in a situation like this. She looked like she was feeling down and he wanted her to know that he didn't hold anything against her.

[NELL DOE DALE]

Nell was glad to hear that at least nothing hurt. Of course, it eventually would. When he was no longer doped up on whatever it was they had him on, he would be feeling those fractured ribs. As long as he was here, though, he would be okay. And when he went home he'd be okay. Calm, soothing faults were what she needed now, not the ones that came to her whenever she so much as looked at him. "Well you know, take it easy. You don't have to talk more than you need, all right?" Josh knew that, but she wanted to reassure him that she would be fine if he didn't talk much tonight or anything. Hopefully he would sleep well enough, though she wouldn't be surprised with any difficulty he may have.

Needless to say, she was displeased with the fact that it was probably better that he didn't eat. That's how she knew to solve problems. Everything got better if you ate. But she simply nodded and agreed, "Water, okay." Even though he wasn't ill, she remembered the last time she had to worry about someone's well-being so much. Josh wasn't going to die, he was alive, and that was the main thing she clung to at this point. He was right there and he would be right there for the night, and in the morning they could go home and ... then what? What could she do to make sure that Jane didn't pull any shit again? It felt like thinking too far into the future, grabbing at answers she didn't have yet when she was already here just hoping that everything would be all right.

The first real smile that she managed with some strength and an an astonishing amount of sincerity was with his words. It was still sad, though, but she felt warmer than she did before. Standing up, she leaned over to kiss Josh on the forehead and said, "I love you too." She then left the room to get him some water and hopefully not cry again in front of anyone else.