Goliath By: Ridley C. James & Tidia University of Louisville Hospital-Two
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Goliath By: Ridley C. James & Tidia University of Louisville Hospital-two days after Ti’s story “Giants exist as a state of mind. They are not defined as an absolute measurement but as proportionality…So giants can be real, even if grown- ups do not choose to classify them as such.” Edward O. Wilson “Shouldn’t I be the broody, pissed-off guy in this scenario?” Caleb Reaves asked. “I mean, I’m the one stuck in this suck ass bed, in this suck ass room with tubes shoved in places even the kinkiest of one night stands have never touched upon.” Dean Winchester looked up from his perusal of the chessboard and glowered. His queen was in extreme jeopardy. He’d already sacrificed his bishop, but it was worry for his Knight that claimed all his attention. It made the game more nuisance than the distraction Sam had intended it. “You have the patience of a five year old, Damien,” Dean grumbled, making the only fateful move his careless regard for the board had left him. He gave a resigned sigh when it was finished; studying his friend’s face with all the intensity he should have given the game. Caleb looked better than he had the night before, but the dark circles beneath his eyes still stood out against a sickly pallor. The yellow glow of the fluorescents wasn’t helping, neither was the weak quality to Caleb’s voice, the last few days taking a toll the older man was trying hard not to show. “You’ve been staring at the board for ten minutes, Deuce.” Caleb tugged at the faded blue hospital gown, the monitor beside the bed picking up his movement and frustration for the garment. Despite his attempts at charm, Caleb had not been able to convince the hospital staff his own sleepwear would provide them with the quick access they needed. He took Dean’s queen without any of his typical enthusiasm or jeering. “I have livelier games with Sam, who dissects each of his moves with computer-like accuracy and doesn’t let me win.” “I can always hand off to The Scholar. He’s just down the hall and it’s his turn for babysitting duty.” Dean stretched, looking at his watch. They both knew he wasn’t going anywhere, but Caleb feigned a look of over-eager anticipation. “At this point I’d settle for the creepy old candy striper with the blue hair and walking stick.” Caleb pushed the rolling tray holding the game away from him. Dean scooted his chair to make room for it to pass in lieu of having the dining cart bang against his knee. “She’s a bundle of sunshine compared to you these last two days.” Dean leaned back in his chair, silently counting to ten so not to say something he might regret. He was under strict orders not to upset Caleb. So far the steady stream of medication from the I.V. had proved effective in keeping Caleb stable. However, Dean’s hard fought restraint earned him an even more petulant glare from the unhappy hunter in the hospital bed who seemed hell bent on getting a rise out of Dean. “I got to say this new, calm, kid-glove routine you got going on sucks ass, too.” Caleb growled. “You’re making me feel worse by acting like Pod Person Dean.” “You’d rather I bitch you out for my lack of decent sleep and good coffee these last two days?” Dean had plenty to be pissed at Caleb about, but it was hard to stay angry at him considering what they’d all been through. The memory of their frantic drive to the backwoods clinic in Arkansas when Caleb blacked out after their tangle with the unfriendly witches and the wendigo was enough to steal Dean’s composure. The all too easily recalled image of Caleb’s body twitching and jerking in the backseat with what they now understood were a series of seizures kept his voice calm. “Or we could talk about how you’ve been lying to me for months.” “I wasn’t lying.” Caleb couldn’t even meet Dean’s gaze, his eyes travelling to his I.V. where he used his other hand to pick at the tape holding it in place over bruised skin. “It was more a need to know kind of…” “Stop.” The command came out harsher than Dean meant, bringing The Knight’s glassy eyes to his. He took a deep breath, sighing the exhale. He gestured to the hanging ringers above Caleb’s head. “You don’t want another round with Nurse Bad-body if that thing comes loose. I thought you were going to cry the last time.” Caleb’s fingers stilled, except for his middle one which he lifted in Dean’s direction. “You couldn’t have insisted on a hospital with hotter nurses?” “If you’d been conscious to get a look at the staff back at that VA hospital in Middlesboro, you’d be grateful Mac pulled the strings to get you here to good old University of Louisville as quickly as he did.” Dean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He hadn’t been happy about the unplanned med-evac ride, but at the time he wasn’t willing to let The Knight out of his sight. “Their Chief of Staff was missing his teeth.” “Deuce, about the wendigo mess…” Dean clenched his fists knowing what was coming next. It would be a repeat of the first conversation they’d had in Arkansas after Caleb woke up and was actually somewhat cognizant. “If you try to apologize one more time about the wendigo bite I will see to it personally that Randolf, the over friendly orderly with the bright pink scrubs, is in charge of your sponge bath.” Caleb snorted. “So much for having my back.” Dean grimaced at the comment, though it was obviously meant to lighten the moment. They had been conditioned to put others welfare first. Dean understood it was Caleb’s complete belief in that priority mission that kept him from coming clean about what was happening with him the last few months, or longer. “You should have told me.” Dean should have trusted his gut. He’d known for a while his best friend was off. He’d blamed it on the showdown with Lucifer, the psychic backlash of having countless demons on the loose. Then there was the hunt for The Spear of Destiny-a gig which should have been a glowing beacon that something wasn’t right with Caleb, despite The Knight’s protests and assurances to the contrary. “Like I explained before, I wasn’t sure what was going on. I didn’t think it was a big deal.” Caleb held his gaze. “It’s not something you should have picked up on, Deuce. Don’t go down that road.” “You wanted to protect me.” Caleb had confessed he was avoiding adding more to Dean’s plate, a plate already full as the newly appointed Guardian before the unwanted surprise of The Trinity and Reagan Walsh. “I can understand not bitching about the extra migraines and the odd visions, that’s old hat for you to some degree, but losing time, seeing dead people, seeing Dad. Those I would have liked to have known about.” Caleb had come clean with Dean that first night in ICU before Mac had arrived when the doctors in Louisville had managed to stop the seizures. Dean wasn’t sure if it was the painkillers, or the uncharacteristic helplessness of the situation, but Caleb had promised he wasn’t holding anything else back as he told Dean about the headaches, the problems with his balance, and the odd sightings of Atticus Finch, John Winchester and other people they had lost along the way. “Speaking of being secretive, has Mac said anything to you?” “Are you kidding?” Dean ran a hand through his hair, allowing the redirect because being pissed at Caleb could wait until his friend was out of the hospital and on the mend. “And risk violating patient confidentiality?” Dean’s cluelessness was not from lack of asking. Yesterday he had followed the good doctor around the hospital, demanding a rundown on what the battery of tests he’d put Caleb through was telling him. “Dude, he won’t tell me a damn thing and I’m the fucking patient.” Caleb glanced to the doors, as if expecting Mackland to appear with his entourage of doctors. “He’s dodging us, and it’s getting old. I’m not some kid he can keep in the dark while he runs wild with scans and probes of my anatomy.” “At least you’re getting pudding cups and the comfy bed.” Dean knew Caleb was miserable. His best friend wasn’t a good patient in the best of circumstance. Add in a continuous stream of tests and strangers subjecting him to up close hands on care and he became the patient most likely to be accidentally overdosed by haggard floor nurses. Dean withheld his worst case scenario theory about Mac’s silence in lieu of trying to offer lame reassurances. “I think he’s trying to put all the pieces together, man. Once a Scholar always a Scholar. I’ve got Sammy on the case shadowing the good doctor like an annoying stray dog hoping for scraps. He’ll let us know as soon as he picks up any bits about what’s going on.” “But why the hell call in Griffin Porter? The man’s like some kind of mad scientist, not a real doctor.” Caleb brought a hand to his head, wincing.