For Lucy

[minimumbullshit]

If he had his way, he would've slept sprawled across the waiting room chairs, harassing the night nurses and generally making an ass of himself. Apparently, the detox program that Max had signed himself over to wasn't in the habit of allowing hovering visitors, despite their status as partners or boyfriends or lovers or whatever fucking label was foisted onto them. So, he went home to wait for Max's discharge, and more importantly, to figure out how they put their lives back together after something so catastrophic. Unfortunately, Brian Kinney was the world's worst at sitting around and waiting for things to happen to him.

So, he took Gus and left the quiet of their apartment, driving across town to Lucy's shitty little apartment, the one she seemed to be punishing herself with, after whatever transgressions she thought she'd committed last year. There was a chance she wasn't even home, but he had a feeling she would be.

On her floor, he let Gus run ahead. "Down the hall, sonny boy. Last door on your right," Brian said, pointing his son in the right direction. Gus beat on the door with his tiny fists, calling out, "Luce! Luce!" Brian hung back, arms folded, his expression carefully blank, but his jaw twitched, full of tension. If she looked closely enough, which he knew she would, she'd be sure to notice.

He couldn't hide a damn thing from these Carrigans anymore.

Comments

[radicalize]

She hasn't slept in days, and it shows, dark circles under her eyes and her appearance generally disheveled. Maybe the worst part is, it doesn't feel all that unfamiliar. This isn't the first time since they've both been in Darrow that Max has spent several days missing, the fact that his phone is still connected the only proof that he isn't gone for good. I't's just that, this time, there hasn't been anything else to point to, no disappearances and stories of people having been in some other version of Darrow. Nothing, of course, except what she's been seeing for months, what she'd known she needed to do something about and didn't. It might not have made a difference, but there's every chance it would have. Now, she'll never know.

It's taking just about everything Lucy has in her now not to collapse, but she has a feeling that even if she tried to get some rest, she wouldn't be able to. She needs to see Max for herself, be assured like that that he's alright. That it's taking everything she has in her not to fall apart only adds to her exhaustion, but it gives her all the more reason to keep going, too. She has to. There's no alternative.

So she paces, and she smokes, and she tries, futilely, to think of anything fucking else, even tries turning the TV on for a little while, only to decide that the noise doesn't help at all. There isn't exactly much else she can do now. What pulls her out of her head — and prompts a smile from her for what feels like the first time in ages — is the sound of a familiar voice on the other side of the door. That smile stays in place as she goes to open it, looking down at Gus like there's nothing wrong at all. "Hey, Gus," she says. "Well, you sound excited to be here."

Her expression softens a little as she looks up at Brian, letting out a heavy exhale. "You guys want to come in?"