I hope lockdown is treating you all well!

I genuinely have no plan for this story, no idea where its going or - in truth - where its been. All I know is we're near the end.

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Danny and Joe shrouded Jamie's hospital bed like a shadow.

They were both too scared to touch him. He looked painfully delicate in his hospital get-up. In the hours since Danny had seen him, the injuries to his face had had the time to swell further. His eye was sealed shut. That was gonna be the first thing that hurt when he woke up.

Joe tapped his foot, deep in thought. He was chewing his thumbnail, a habit he'd been trying to shake off since childhood but crept back like a nightmare when he was stressed.

Danny moved towards him and pulled the thumb-victim from his mouth. "That drives mom crazy," he murmured.

"He looks… Fucking horrible," Joe said, rolling his shoulders back. "When did Linda say he'd come round?"

"Couple hours, I think."

"He's gonna freak."

"He can't freak, Joe. He's got twenty stitches in his arm waiting to pop open like a –"

Joe caught him before he could advance on a tirade. "I know. But – hell, if he doesn't remember and he wakes up. He's never had morphine before, he just might a little confused."

Danny gritted his teeth. God, he wanted to hit something. But they were in that room on Linda's good word. Best behaviour. "I know. Sorry, I'm just… This just got way out of hand."

Joe went to comfort his brother, when Linda came through the curtain. She had a coffee in each hand and a chart under her arm. "Here, I figured you guys will be here all night."

Danny helped her with the Styrofoam cups, and handed one to Joe. "Thanks, sweetheart. And thanks for getting us, you know. In."

She snorted. "Danny, if this were a bar, you would be banned. I think our security guard is sitting out there waiting to escort you out."

He smiled, although it wasn't to the eyes. "How we doing here?"

"He's had a pretty high dose of morphine for the pain. That shoulder is going to be pretty immobile for a few weeks minimum – he's going to need help getting changed, maybe even sitting up for the first while. The right arm will be out of use, so he doesn't tug at the stitching or the healing muscle tissue," she read through his chart, feeling two pairs of dark eyes boring into her.

"How will he be when he wakes up?" Asked Joe, pale now.

"He's had a blood transfusion. He lost a lot of blood," she saw Danny clench his fists from the corner of her eye, "So when he wakes up we need to keep him as calm as possible. He doesn't need any more stress, or shock. The calmer he stays, the quicker he recovers." She paused. "That goes for home too."

Joe nodded, mentally noting each point. "That's okay. I mean, I can take some time off work, help out a little. Keep him company."

"Me too," said Danny, still staring at Linda, "What else?"

She looked up at her partner, and very cautiously said, "We would expect, even in its mildest form, some symptoms of post traumatic stress."

The brothers were silent. Danny looked at his kid brother, breathing deeply.

Linda cleared her throat. "He's been through an ordeal. This would be difficult for an adult to handle – he's sixteen. We can access a trauma service for this kind of case –"

"We'll help him," said Danny, still looking at the bed. Linda could tell that was as much as he needed to hear.

Joe watched his brother too, silently analysing his body language, his facial expression. He straightened the frown lines on his forehead, and in a falsely upbeat tone, said to Linda, "Can I use the nurse's phone to get in touch with Mom? I mean, she's probably already on her way down here…"

Linda took the hint, and nodded. "Sure, come on down. Danny, are you okay here?"

Danny made no notion that he was even listening.

Joe followed Linda out of the door. They walked in silence, when Linda heard Joe let out a shaky breath beside her. She grabbed his hand. "Joe, he's going to be fine. PTSD is such a scary term to hear, but –"

"I'm not worried about Jamie," he cut her off. "Well, no – I am worried about Jamie. But… I don't know how Danny is going to take this. He saw it happen, Linda."

She let go of his hand, confused. "He was in the store too? Did he –"

"No, he was on the scene. Before he knew Jamie was involved. He told me in the car, that the perp had Jamie by the neck," "he used his arm to demonstrate, "And walked him out of the store like a shield. And then… He saw him get shot."

She stayed silent.

"Can you imagine being that close to someone you love and not being able to help?"

Linda knew what it looked like. She saw it every day in her workplace. She saw unconscious family members walk the balance between life and death, silent and alone, while loved ones looked on helplessly. She watched kids whose only sign of life was a bleeping machine. She saw families torn apart, separated, lost. But she'd never experienced it.

Her voice cracked as she spoke. "He'll be okay?" She asked quietly.

Joe didn't respond. "He blames himself. I think if he had a second chance he would be in front of that gun himself. Or at least running toward it. He's had his own nightmare tonight. 'Cause he didn't act."

That was an alternative and a suggestion Linda didn't entertain for a second. "What does he need?" She asked.

"I think… I think he needs to play dirty cop tonight."

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Danny had pulled up a white plastic chair to sit as close to his kid brother as he dared. He hovered his hand over Jamie's, and pulled it away, too afraid to touch the broken body in front of him. Instead he held his head in his hands, and watched the consistent up, down, up, down, of Jamie's chest. He watched the mask fill with condensation, and then clear again. He listened to the steady rhythm of the heart monitor.

He cleared his throat. "Listen, kid…" he murmured, barely audible above the machines, "I know you can't hear it. And that's probably a good thing. But I wanna say… I'm really sorry."

Jamie's chest rose and dropped in response.

"I'm really fucking sorry. As soon as I saw it was you, I should have… done something. Hell, I should have gone into the store before it got that bad. Before anything escalated."

The oxygen mask hissed.

"I can't imagine what it was like in there. I don't think I want to know… How scary it must have been." Danny imagined the kid in the store, every second dragging by like a minute. He shook the thought from his head.

The machine bleeped, slowly.

"I'll do anything to fix this with you, bud," Danny rambled on, his voice getting louder, "I'll do every errand mom asks you to do… I'll pick you up every day from school… I'll take you to every Patriots game. Even postseason," he promised, "I'll buy you beer, I'll do your chores, you'll never have to go to the store again…"

Jamie's hand twitched.

Danny blinked. Had that actually happened? "Jamie?"

The kid's head pushed back into the pillow. His one eyelid fluttered.

Danny was on his feet. He grabbed Jamie's hand, squeezing it in his. He stared down at his brother, the boy looking so much stronger with the sign of life. "You with me, kid?"

Jamie trussled his head again, blindly searching for the familiar voice. Danny squeezed tighter.

"C'mon, bud. I'm here. My big ugly mug is here. Let's see those eyes, huh?"

Jamie creaked open his right eye, the left not responding. Danny could have cried. The kid mumbled something, his words lost in the mask.

"Don't talk kid, okay?"

But Jamie persisted. He croaked and lifted his – sore – right arm to knock off the mask, twinging when the motion hurt.

"Stop stop stop," said Danny calmly, though his heart was beating fast, "Just… Stay still a second, okay?" Without letting go of his hand, he reached across to the call button. "Sit tight. You're okay."

Very carefully, he pulled the mask off Jamie mouth down over his chin, so he could try speak easier. "What were you saying?"

Jamie heaved in a breath. "Hand… You're… Crushing my hand," he croaked.

Danny looked down. Jamie's fingers were white in his. "Shit. Sorry," he smiled.

But Jamie was out cold again when he looked up.

Danny could have cried again. To see his kid brother in pain, trapped by his injuries…

It turned to anger in his blood.

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Linda and Joe hurried back to Jamie's room, the beeping of the call button shocking them both out of their discussion.

Joe sprinted down the corridor, his uniform clearing a route through the busy hospital. He burst into the room –

To find Jamie still out cold. And Danny gone.

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