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Mar. 15th, 2017
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Mar. 15th, 2017 11:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
headingforsomethingTaking care of this little angel for a couple of nights. That face is going to break hearts one day ♥
"Alive with the glory of love."
Mar. 15th, 2017 11:34 pmprivateinvestigationsWho: Clint Chevalier and Lewis Sheldon
What: Blood's not thicker than water
Where: Cardiac Unit, Mount Sinai
When: Wednesday morning
Clint was feeling a lot less agitated and traumatised after he slept nearly fourteen hours after getting back from Louisiana. Being back in his own bed, in his own home, as far a-fucking-way from New Orleans as possible, he slept much better. When he wasn't able to fuck out his frustration, despite the best efforts, it was clear all this shit ran much deeper than quite possibly anything he had dealt with in his life prior. Probably because it stirred up everything in the past, even things he thought he buried for good.
The first place he had to go was the hospital. He left Lincoln in bed, making sure he was quiet in the bedroom so he didn't wake him. Lincoln was going to need some TLC in the days to come. The trip had taken it out of both of them, and they were both just trying to keep their heads above water. Clint knew they weren't the only ones. And he knew that no matter how Yoda-like and strong Lewis seemed, that didn't mean he actually was just that. Clint knew what it was like to have the person you loved in a very fucking serious condition medically. He was just worried about seeing Lewis in case what he had been fearing was correct - Lewis would rather any other fucking dude with a cock to be his brother-in-law than Clint.
He bit the bullet. There was no room for procrastination. He needed to be with Lorenzo right now. Now that all the shit he had to deal with in Louisiana was sorted for now. The wheels would only grind back into motion when Lorenzo was in the driver's seat. Until then, they could fucking wait. She was a stiff now, her time was up. It made no fucking difference to her how long she waited anymore. As far as Clint was concerned, she was a non-entity to him. But Lorenzo grew up with her as his mother all along, and Clint would never deny him whatever grief process he needed to take, when he was well enough to be able to take them. Clint felt a hell of a lot of guilt surrounded this. So much so, it was eating away inside him. He probably wouldn't truly find any peace with it all until Lorenzo got better and they could talk.
He was hoping Lewis would be at the hospital when he got there. Lorenzo was still hooked up to all the medical shit because without it, his heart probably wouldn't be strong enough right now to keep going itself. All this, it cut too close to home for Clint, after all the months he struggled to keep his shit together when Lincoln was in this place fighting for his life. He came in and sat down beside Lewis. "Hey," he greeted him, settling into the chair with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. "How're you going? How's he doing? I was, uh... hoping we could talk about some shit."
What: Blood's not thicker than water
Where: Cardiac Unit, Mount Sinai
When: Wednesday morning
Clint was feeling a lot less agitated and traumatised after he slept nearly fourteen hours after getting back from Louisiana. Being back in his own bed, in his own home, as far a-fucking-way from New Orleans as possible, he slept much better. When he wasn't able to fuck out his frustration, despite the best efforts, it was clear all this shit ran much deeper than quite possibly anything he had dealt with in his life prior. Probably because it stirred up everything in the past, even things he thought he buried for good.
The first place he had to go was the hospital. He left Lincoln in bed, making sure he was quiet in the bedroom so he didn't wake him. Lincoln was going to need some TLC in the days to come. The trip had taken it out of both of them, and they were both just trying to keep their heads above water. Clint knew they weren't the only ones. And he knew that no matter how Yoda-like and strong Lewis seemed, that didn't mean he actually was just that. Clint knew what it was like to have the person you loved in a very fucking serious condition medically. He was just worried about seeing Lewis in case what he had been fearing was correct - Lewis would rather any other fucking dude with a cock to be his brother-in-law than Clint.
He bit the bullet. There was no room for procrastination. He needed to be with Lorenzo right now. Now that all the shit he had to deal with in Louisiana was sorted for now. The wheels would only grind back into motion when Lorenzo was in the driver's seat. Until then, they could fucking wait. She was a stiff now, her time was up. It made no fucking difference to her how long she waited anymore. As far as Clint was concerned, she was a non-entity to him. But Lorenzo grew up with her as his mother all along, and Clint would never deny him whatever grief process he needed to take, when he was well enough to be able to take them. Clint felt a hell of a lot of guilt surrounded this. So much so, it was eating away inside him. He probably wouldn't truly find any peace with it all until Lorenzo got better and they could talk.
He was hoping Lewis would be at the hospital when he got there. Lorenzo was still hooked up to all the medical shit because without it, his heart probably wouldn't be strong enough right now to keep going itself. All this, it cut too close to home for Clint, after all the months he struggled to keep his shit together when Lincoln was in this place fighting for his life. He came in and sat down beside Lewis. "Hey," he greeted him, settling into the chair with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. "How're you going? How's he doing? I was, uh... hoping we could talk about some shit."