dreamlikenewyork | "You look a fucking mess. No ones getting out of here tonight."

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"You look a fucking mess. No ones getting out of here tonight."

Who: Mitchell Palmer and Domino Chance
What: In-Case-of-Emergency
Where: Emergency Room, Mount Sinai
When: Friday night

Mitchell was frantic when he came running into the ER, looking around as if he would somehow miraculously know what this Domino woman looked like. The phone call he got was the first he had heard of her, and she was telling him Spencer was sick and that he should come to the hospital ASAP, because that was what Spencer would want. Mitchell didn't need to be asked twice, but he was understandably confused as all fuck. He had been confused as all fuck ever since Spencer had shown up at the party that night looking like a trainwreck. Nothing made sense anymore. Mitchell hadn't been able to just snap into line and go back to normal with his twin. Too much hurt. He needed time to process it all. He threw himself into work when Lorenzo fell ill again and was in hospital. It had been a good distraction.

Inevitably, there was a bit of strain in his marriage at the moment, because Guy was just furious that Spencer was back in their lives and trying to hurt Mitchell after all he had been through. Mitchell, on the other hand, just hadn't been able to flat turn Spencer down. All he said he needed was time, then proceeded to not call Spencer like he promised. The promise was a bit more complicated than that. It had been a promise to call him when he was ready, and he just didn't feel ready.

Now this call came, and it sounded serious. She wouldn't tell him what was wrong or what happened, which made it even more difficult. But Spencer was still his twin, so here he was. He went up to the desk, feeling his heart racing his his chest like it was trying to break through his ribcage. "I-I'm looking for a Domino Chance. Do you know if she's here. O-Or Spencer. Spencer Marcus. He's my twin. I think he's a patient here..."

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Domino had made sure she was standing as close to the ER entrance as possible without getting in the way. It was Friday night pre-Silly Season, so it was fucking mental, to say the least. She was yet to really get much information about Spencer from the doctor, but he looked to be in good hands. A tall, sexy dude who looked a bit like Anakin Skywalker had taken charge, and the nurses seemed excellent too. Fuck, New York had some damn hot medical professionals. She would be appreciating the view much more if the situation was a lot different.

She spotted Mitchell immediately. And what a fucking mindfuck that was. It was like seeing the angel to Spencer's devil... or in other words, what Spencer would look like if he was healthy, had his natural hair colour, and wasn't constantly dressed like an at-the-ready manwhore 24/7. At first, she hesitated, because she just wanted to look at him, getting an idea of what Spencer may have looked like if his life hadn't ended up as a train wreck. "Mitchell?" she said, stepping up to him. "I'm Domino. I'm sorry to have called you like this, love. But I figured you'd want to be here."

"Who even are you?" Mitchell cried helplessly, feeling like it was hard to breath. His chest hurt, and he knew it was because the panic was pwning him here. He couldn't even bring Guy, because he was in LA doing some fancy important high profile fashion shoot. That was his career, and he was often away for work. Sometimes Mitchell went with him, but this wasn't one of those times. He had no idea who this woman was, or why she was calling him up telling him Spencer had been rushed to hospital.

He started to pace, twisting his fingers up in his hair. "Where is? What happened? Is he okay? He can't breathe properly, can he? My chest hurts, I can feel something is wrong with him." If she was going to get weirded out by his twin sense, he couldn't help it. There had been times he had felt strange when he and Spencer had been separated, but thinking Spencer was dead, he never thought it could be the twin sense kicking in. He just knew now that was what he was feeling, and it was freaking him out to suddenly have it hitting him this hard again.

"I'm his wife. But it's not what you think," Domino told him. She wished there was something she could do to ease his pain here, but there was nothing. Of course she had heard about the twin sense phenomenon. She had even studied it once Spencer had revealed one night when he was drunk and trashed that he was an identical twin. He never told her if he had that sense thing, though. He actually never mentioned Mitchell when he was sober, until very recently when he said he wanted to clean up and find him now he knew he was alive. Then again, it was rare Spencer was ever fully sober. In fact, she was pretty sure he never was. Along with his addictions to drugs and booze, he also smoked and lived on coffee and energy drinks, probably contributing to why he was here.

She wanted to try to comfort him, though. Damn, was he beautiful. Spencer's healthy, clean cut other half. It was still surreal for him. She rubbed his shoulder softly. "Spencer's messed up, love. He's an addict and... there's a whole pile of other stuff I think he would want to tell you himself, if I could ever get him to stay sober for more than two minutes. Long story short, I had to drag him home trashed again last night. Only, instead of crashing, he started to continuously vomit. Over and over. Usually I just clean him up and put him to bed. I was worried he would choke, so I kept him up. He was shaking and seemed like he had a fever. Then he started to vomit blood. A lot of it, and lost consciousness."

At this, Mitchell was just shaking his head. It was beyond fathomable, but at this point, nothing he was hearing about Spencer would surprise him. Fuck, he hadn't wanted to hear the words that Spencer was an addict. Sure, he suspected it that first night he saw Spencer. He was clearly on something. Mitchell might have spend months on end held captive and suffered Stockholm Syndrome, but he knew what someone looked like when they were high. He had been drugged numerous times himself. Once the FBI found him, he had spent extensive amount of time in a clinic where he had to face going through detoxing from the drugs he had been living on when held captive. It was awful. No matter how messed up Spencer had gotten without him, he wouldn't wish that hell on anyone.

"Wife," he just said in tearful disbelief. "He's gay. Fucking hell. Just... I don't think I even want to know. Just tell me what this vomiting blood means. What do they think it is? Is he dying? Is that what you're trying to tell me? Is that why you brought me here? Because I don't know how to deal with any of this. I barely keep my own shit together most days. The only way I can deal is if things are kept simple, and none of this is simple. This is the first time I've seen my twin in years, and he shows up as an addict with a wife!"

"Come and sit down for a minute, okay?" Domino coaxed, leading him over to some chairs in a nearby waiting area. It was impossible to get any assured privacy, but at least this wasn't keeping him standing up in a crazy corridor where doctors, nurses, sick people, and worried family members were in a constant stream. "There's no way I can sugarcoat this for you, honey. He's a walking wreck and I think he's powerless to get clean alone. He gets so far, but never quite makes it on the wagon to fall off it. I don't want to lay anything heavy on you, but I think he was hoping you could help him. But if you don't want to, that's okay. This is a lot to take in, and not everyone in this world wants to be saddled with helping a drug addict who seems like a lost cause."

She shook her head. "On paper only. This whole thing is probably just going to sound like it's going from bad to worse, but Spence is a hooker. We both are. In Vegas. We got married so if anything bad ever happened to us, we would be each other's next of kin to be notified. It's a rough-assed business, love. Safety's never a guarantee. He came here to find you, so I followed him, knowing he was a danger to himself. It's only a matter of time something like this happened to him. I'm sorry, I wish I had better news for you, love. I think if he doesn't get help ASAP, he's a dead man walking. He's not just an addict, he's also Positive, and very likely has PTSD after what happened to you. No matter how much he trusts me, I can't always get through to him. But I... I think you might be able to."

Sitting. That was something Mitchell could cope with right now. Everything else? Not so much. "That's not okay, no. I'm his twin, I should be helping him with everything. I thought he was dead already. Everyone did. My life hasn't exactly been fucking hearts and roses either, you know. Being kidnapped, drugged, held hostage, believing that my captors were doing what was best. Not just a few nights. Fucking years. So, yeah, I'm sorry he can't cope and all he does is keep turning to drugs, but if he wants my fucking help, he's going to have to understand that all of this he is dealing with, by his own hand, doesn't mean I'm the one better off here. It means he has to be fucking prepared to help me too."

He couldn't help getting angry. What he was hearing was making him angry, but he didn't know why. His brain had been psychologically abused for a really long time, so that meant that this Domino woman hoping he would just step up and fix Spencer wasn't going to work. Mitchell didn't have it in him to be able to deliver a miracle fix. There was no such thing as a miracle drug fix, unless you were blowing some bullshit fairy tale out your ass and romanticising drug abuse and everything attached to it. He wasn't a white knight that could swoop in and save his brother after a few nights of holding his head over a bucket while he puked his way through detox. Real life was a lot more fucking horrible than that. "I can't do this alone, so don't you fucking dare lay that on me, or I swear to god, I'm walking out and he'll never see me again. That's not fucking fair, so back off. Don't talk to me about fucking PTSD."

Domino immediately felt like a fucking cunt and a half. Then times that by about five hundred. She had stumbled onto a part of Mitchell that she had no clue about... but it was a hard blow to know she actually knew very little about her fake husband's identical twin. She was still trying not to stare because he was so beautiful. She had never seen Spencer without the pitch black hair, and he was rarely without guyliner, piercings, ink, and leather. But that was just who Spencer was now. Even if he wasn't an addict, that would all still be his personality, she was sure of it. She hadn't even known he was a twin until this late date when he suddenly heard Mitchell was alive and he wanted to know find him. Everything made so much sense now, but she barely knew any of the story. That was making this hard as fuck.

"Okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just don't think he's listening to me. I'm not sure he ever did. But I don't want him to die. I wish I could help him, and rescue him from this. I-I'm sorry. You have PTSD..." It was a realisation that hit her hard. That was why her mentioning it upset him so much. He had been upset before, but withdrawn. Now she had flicked a switch and he had snapped. "If you can't do this, I'll understand. I promise, I'll keep doing all I can to help him, but I don't think I can save him. I don't know if he wants to be saved. He's just... just... self-destructing. Maybe has been ever since he lost you. God knows, I was lost when my brother died, and he wasn't even my twin."

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