Chapter Text
Jess has had the shit kicked out of him before, but he’s never been so sure that he’s going to die as the third time Vic’s Wolverine boot makes contact with his solar plexus and he feels something soft and probably important behind his ribs give way. His left arm is definitely broken, he can’t even lift it and he caught a glimpse of the bone sticking out of his forearm when he tumbled down the stairs in the apartment hallway. He hasn't had time to notice what else is fucked up but he knows it's bad. He can’t really see anything now, there’s too much blood running into his eyes from that thing where Vic slammed his face directly into the bannister.
It feels like the hits just keep on coming in slow motion and he can’t move fast enough to dodge but somehow he has plenty of time to think about how he had just fucking studied the goddamn Marshall Plan he could have avoided this entire situation. That feels like another sign that he probably isn’t gonna make it out of this one. The time warp thing, that can’t be good. He coughs and blood sprays all over the cracked, dirty hallway tiles. That can’t be good either.
Then, it’s over? The blows have stopped, Vic’s on the ground with their neighbor, Berto, sitting on his back, face smushed to the ground.
“Yes? Yes?” Someone’s wiping his face with a towel. “Yes?”
Jess . She’s saying Jess, not yes. It’s Elena, Berto’s wife. Jess watches their kids sometimes when she works.
It takes what seems like an eternity to remember any Spanish words and also how be in his body and how to move his mouth, but he manages to croak out, “Si, Elena, estoy bien. Estoy contigo.”
“Ay! Gracias a Dios! Dios te salve, Reina y Madre de misericordia, vida, dulzura y esperanza nuestra, Dios te salve…”
She’s praying but he can’t really follow it, he can hear Liz screaming but he can’t really figure out why or what she’s saying. Probably doesn’t matter. He can barely breathe and each breath feels like a knife in his back. At least he got that perfect day with Rory. It’s something. If he has to die at seventeen at least he had one good thing.
Everything goes dark and then there’s cops, like a lot of cops. Doing cop things. A lot of noise and activity up and down the stairs. Liz is in cuffs, not this again.
Oh look, paramedics.
“Sir, sir, can you hear me?”
Jess is trying for words but only manages a groan.
“Can you tell me your name?”
Oooooh, he definitely knows this one. What was it again? He just had it. Oh yeah, “Jess Mariano.”
“Can you tell me the date?”
Date, date, it’s spring. He pictures the giggling NYU grads he saw on the train yesterday in their purple robes, “May, 2002.”
“Good, you’re doing great. Can you tell me what happened to you?”
He knows what happened but the words are just out of reach and talking is so hard. “Mom’s boyfriend, fight,” he manages and then coughs again, trying to catch his breath.
Thankfully they don’t ask him anything else. It’s just touching and pain and moving and pain and breathing and pain. They put a mask on his face, and he pictures the O on the periodic table. Oxygen.
He’s staring at the ceiling in the ambulance and he can hear the siren and that’s pretty cool but fucking hell he is in so much fucking pain and he can’t even make sense of where it’s coming from, it’s just everywhere and his skin feels tight and he’s so fucking mad that they cut his Stooges shirt.
Then he’s inside somewhere, a building, a hospital? And he’s out and then he’s awake and then he’s out again like his brain is a bare lightbulb with a little chain.
They give him something that makes the pain loosen its grip a little. Someone (a nurse?) is leaning over him, saying his name.
“Yeah?”
“Hi there. I’m Tanya, do you know where you are?”
“Hospital.” She’s pretty, black curls framing her face in a halo lit from behind.
“Very good, you’re pretty banged up, but we’re going to take care of you, okay? You’re going to need surgery, is there someone we can call to be here with you? Your mom or dad?”
Ugh, Liz, I guess. Wait, they arrested Liz, right? Or did he dream that? Either way there’s only one person that makes sense to call. “Uncle, Luke Danes.”
“Do you know his number?”
He has to use everything he’s got left to dig it up out of his memory, but he manages to remember it. And then he’s done, whatever happens, happens, but he’s not going to be conscious for it.
It’s a busy morning at the diner: the tables are packed, people have lots of special requests, it seems like half the goddamn town is either currently in here or already came and went. Luke can’t help but feel the loss of his only waiter this morning and it doesn't do anything to help his mood when he sees Lorelai and Rory walking past the diner, Rory catching his eye through the window and giving him a little wave.
He picks up the phone on the fourth ring, coffee pot in hand. “Luke’s”
“Hello, is this Mr. Luke Danes?”
“Yes. What do you want?”
“I’m calling from Mount Sinai Hospital, in Brooklyn. Your nephew, Jess Mariano, has been badly injured and he’s currently in surgery.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“He has internal injuries as well as some broken bones. He gave us this number as his emergency contact.”
“What happened?”
“The police can fill you in when you get here.”
“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Luke puts down the coffee pot and sticks his head in the kitchen. “Caesar, I gotta go! Close up will ya?”
“Close up? It’s 9:30? It’s busy!”
Just serve the orders that are already in and cash everyone out. Or shut it down now, I don’t care, I gotta go. I’ll pay you for the whole day.”
Caesar tries to say something, probably does say something, but Luke can’t hear him, he’s already on his way out the door.
It’s an hour and a half later when Luke parks his truck and he doesn’t even remember the drive, just the sick panic. His stomach twists as he approaches the front desk in the emergency room.
“Hi, I’m Luke Danes, I got a call that my nephew, Jess Mariano is here?”
“Just a moment,” the receptionist types something, her lacquered nails clacking against the keys. “He’s still in surgery, you can go up to the seventh floor surgical waiting area. I’ll let the doctor know his family is here and she’ll update you when the surgery is finished.”
“Thanks,” Luke says nervously, making his way to the elevators.
The waiting room is small and has a dull green patterned wallpaper. Luke takes a chair by the window. If he just knew what was going on, maybe it would be okay. But…internal injuries? Broken bones? Emergency surgery? The police can explain? And where on earth is Liz? He thought surely she’d already be here, but there’s just an older gentleman and a tired looking middle aged couple in the waiting room with him.
After forty five minutes, a young looking doctor in blue scrubs and a paper gown and hat comes into the waiting room. “Family of Jess Mariano?”
“That’s me,” Luke says, standing up, his voice thick.
The doctor come over. She sits and motions for him to do the same. “I’m Doctor Hyung Kim, I’m your nephew’s surgeon.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s in recovery right now. He came through the surgery beautifully, but he is in serious condition. He has broken ribs, a punctured lung, a ruptured spleen, and an injury to his pancreas. He also has a broken left arm and collarbone, and a concussion. We were able to re-inflate and repair his lung, and his pancreatic injury should heal itself, but we had to remove his spleen.”
“Remove?”
“Yes, unfortunately, we had to remove it in order to get his bleeding under control. Our orthopedic surgeon, Doctor Duggal, was also able to repair his arm and ribs with pins and plates, he’ll be in to update you later today, he’s in another surgery right now.”
Luke takes a deep breath.
“I know it’s a lot to process Mr. Danes. Jess is young and strong, his vitals are good despite his injuries. It won’t be a quick recovery, but I expect him to make a full recovery.”
Luke nods dumbly. “Can I see him?”
“Not yet, he’s in the recovery room right now. Once the anesthesia wears off and they take him to a room someone will come get you.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll keep him for a few days on antibiotics to make sure he’s stable and there’s no infection or complications, and then you’ll be able to take him home with you.”
“Home. With me.”
“There’s a social worker on his way down to talk with you about that now.”
Luke just nods again.
“He’s through the worst of it. You can see him soon.”
“Okay.” Luke swallows around the lump in his throat. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“It’s my pleasure. I’ll see you later when I come by for a post-op check later.”
And then she’s gone and there’s just Luke, thinking about broken bones and internal bleeding and external bleeding and what the fuck could have possibly even happened. He should have made Jess stay. Dealing with an angry town would have been better than this, and if he hadn’t been such a coward who didn’t want to face the town either Jess would be safe and skipping school in Stars Hollow right now and—
“Mr. Danes?”
There’s a thirty-something nerdy looking guy in khakis and another guy in a suit who is probably definitely a cop standing in front of him.
The nerdy guy holds out his hand. “Hal Williams, Mr. Danes, department of social services. This is detective Eugene Lam, NYPD.”
Luke shakes both of the proffered hands. “Luke Danes.”
“Mr. Danes, are you familiar with a man named Vic Martino?”
Luke rubs his brow, “No, I don’t think so. Wait Lizzie told me she was dating a guy named Vic. I didn’t catch his last name.”
“Lizzie as in your sister, Elizabeth Danes?”
“Yes, that’s right, what is going on? Where is Liz? What happened to Jess?”
“Mr. Danes, your sister has been arrested for possession with intent to distribute heroin and other illicit substances, along with her boyfriend, who is also facing assault and battery charges. Mr. Martino beat your nephew last night. I am not sure the exact circumstances of how the assault began, but it ended when a neighbor called NYPD after Mr. Martino threw Mr. Mariano down the stairs. Luckily, the neighbor restrained Mr. Martino until we arrived on the scene, so we were able to make the arrest.”
Luke’s head drops to his hands. “Heroin?”
“Mr. Danes, did you know your sister was a heavy drug user?”
He shakes his head. “No, I mean she’s always been a mess, kind of unreliable. I knew she liked to drink, she smoked a little pot when we were kids, but that’s it. Heroin? No way.”
“Well, unfortunately that is the reality of the situation. Once your nephew is stable and alert we’ll want to talk with him and get his statement.”
Williams cuts in, “Now, we wanted to talk to you about having an emergency hearing tomorrow morning to grant you sole guardianship of your nephew.”
“Okay, yes. Let's do that.”
“Are you sure? It’s a big step.”
“I’m sure, he lived with me before. He wanted to come back to live with his mom and now I’m pretty sure I’ll regret my decision to let him go for the rest of my life. He belongs with me where he’s safe.”
“Okay, is there a number where we can reach you?”
Luke gives them his cell number and they have him fill out some paperwork. His head is swimming with this morning’s events, and he can barely remember his address or social security number right now, so it takes him a bit to complete it. As he’s finishing up, a nurse comes into the waiting room. “Mr. Danes? You can see your nephew now.”
“Okay, we’ll be in touch.” The officer and the social worker shake his hands again and then he’s following the nurse through several sets of double doors and down a long hallway to the med/surg unit. As they approach Jess’ room, she stops him and says, “I just want to warn you that he looks pretty bad right now, so just prepare yourself. The swelling will go down in a few days and he’ll look more like himself. He’s still pretty out of it right now, but he’s stable and doing really well considering the shape he was in a few hours ago.”
Luke just nods, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. He follows the RN into the room. Jess’ face is a mess. His left eye is swollen shut and the whole left side of his face is black and blue and swollen. There’s a bandage across his nose, and his bottom lip is split and swollen and shiny with Vaseline. There’s a cut on his right cheekbone and stitches above his left eyebrow. The knuckles of his right hand are bruised and split. Jess’ left arm and shoulder are in a bulky cast, propped on pillows to his side. He’s got oxygen tubes up his nose, an IV in his right arm, and plenty of other cords, wires, and tubes that Luke can only guess at the purpose of.
“Fuck…” Luke isn’t even aware the word left his lips until the nurse nods in acknowledgement.
Jess shifts his weight uncomfortably in the bed and makes a noise that’s something between a groan and a sigh. He moves to try and pull the oxygen tubes out of his nose. The nurse gently moves his hand and readjusts the tubes.
“Jess, you’re okay, you’re in the hospital, just relax, we’re taking care of you, don’t worry about the tubes okay,” she says. He groans and gives her hand a weak push.
“Hey kid, let the nurse help you. You’re gonna be okay, you just gotta rest.”
Jess’ right eye blinks rapidly and he manages to get it half open, “Luke?” he slurs.
“I’m here Jess, I’m not going anywhere. Just get some sleep, okay?”
“I want to go home,” Jess says, barely above a whisper.
“I know, I know you do. As soon as the doctor’s say it’s okay we’ll go home.”
Jess nods almost imperceptibly. “Hurts.”
That one word turns Luke to glass and shatters him.
The nurse, however, takes it in stride. She puts a slim controller in Jess’ right hand and puts his thumb on the button at the top. “Just press this button when you’re in pain and it’ll give you a dose of painkillers.” She helps him press the button and he seems less restless within half a minute. “You can have another dose every fifteen minutes, but the button won’t do anything in between, okay?”
“Mm’kay.”
She shows Luke where the call button is. “Don’t hesitate to call if he needs anything, we’ll be right in if you call. If you want to eat or you need coffee, turn right, family lounge and vending machines are at the end of the hall and the cafeteria is on the second floor. There’s elevators right down by the lounge, so you don’t have to go all the way back the way we came.”
“Thanks.” Luke settles in the vinyl cushioned chair beside the bed. From this position on Jess’ right he doesn’t look quite so bad. He stares at the bruised knuckles on Jess’ hand. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Jess,” he mutters. “I should have known, why didn’t I know.”