Doug and Jamie

[x-cypher.livejournal.com]

Jamie comes down to tell Doug how phenomenally bad his plan was, as if Doug didn't know that already... ;-) There's a lot of emotion, and some yelling, and a lot of crying, and discussion of who gets dibs on Guido kicking Doug's ass the next time he even thinks about doing something so idiotic. And at the end, Jamie reminds Doug that even though he's pissed, he's still there for him. Still no Angie, and Doug's definitely worried.



After a quick dinner he hardly tasted, Jamie made his way down to the medlab, to Doug's room. He took a deep breath and knocked.

"Come in," Doug replied listlessly, trying to guess who was on the other side of the door. He had a mental list of people who he expected to come down and lecture him on his rampant stupidity, and he was slowly checking off names as people came down to do just that. The most important one, though, was conspicuous by her continued absence.

Jamie pushed the door open and walked into the room, perching on a chair near Doug's bed. "We need to talk about plans, Doug," he said, voice strained. "First rule of a good plan is _don't get shot._ Christ, man."

Though he wasn't looking forward at all to the conversation with Angie whenever it occurred, Doug had a hunch this one would be no picnic either. The strain in Jamie's voice was obvious, and Doug sighed wearily. "It wasn't a good plan at all. I know. I'm sorry, Jamie."

"I mean, how do you think I felt, I heard a shot and I saw you fall over? Christ, Doug, I thought you were dead. I thought you were shot and you were dead. But then, oh, it's okay, he's wearing Kevlar, so he's shot but he's only mostly dead." Jamie paused. "And how were you wearing Kevlar, anyway?"

"I stole it from Scott." Doug shrugged. "He'd brought his leathers along, and I filched the Kevlar insert from it, put it under my jacket." And when he thought about it, he realized all the things that could have gone wrong, the Kevlar slipping, getting hit somewhere the Kevlar wasn't...he shivered.

"Great. So you just kinda hoped the guy didn't feel like going for the head shot that day. Brilliant. Really." Jamie forced his hands to unclench. "And then I get back here, and I get that goddamn e-mail, and Jesus, Doug, why didn't you tell anybody?"

"I relied on the fact he wasn't aiming for me, and..." Doug shook his head sharply. "I was an idiot, I know, Jamie. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's like all I can do is apologize to people, because I _know_ I screwed up, and I'm lucky to be alive, and..." Doug drew a shaky breath. "I just...I thought if I wasn't there, something worse would happen, and if I told anyone, there was no way they would have let me go."

"You're goddamn right I wouldn't have!" Jamie's voice rose to a hoarse shout, tears streaking his face. "Fucksake, Doug! If somebody has to take a bullet around here, at least I'd walk away!" He stopped short, shocked by his own outburst, shooting a furtive look over his shoulder in case he was about to be kicked out for disturbing the patient, but then his jaw set stubbornly.

Answering tears streaked Doug's face, and he struggled not to pull at his ribs by sobbing. The result was a strange soft hacking sort of sound. "I...I'm sorry, Jamie, I didn't think, and I was stupid, and I didn't _want_ to die!" he cried, clutching at the sheet which covered his legs.

"Oh, hell, Doug . . ." Jamie sighed, heartsick. "All you had to do was ask, man, you know there's damn little I wouldn't do for you. I'm sorry I blew up, I just, I . . . there had to've been a better way than you doing a Frodo. Even if it was just me burying Rahne three deep in dupes. I just--think about you carrying all this around with you all that time, all by yourself, and I wish I'd pushed you more, figured out what you were working on so I could _help._"

"God, Jamie," Doug said, reaching for Jamie's arm, hungry for physical contact of any sort, needing to remind himself that yes, he was alive, and his friends were still there. "I was so stupid, I know it. Everyone could have helped, and none of this had to happen. But I just..." he shook his head. "I'm sorry..."

"Oh, hell, man . . . " Jamie took Doug's hand. "It's okay. Not a whole lot of harm done, nobody died, they got the bad guy, and you're gonna be fine. You did good. Not great, but good." He smiled wryly. "Not that I won't call Guido to come kick your ass if you scare me like that ever again, though, dude."

Doug let out a small chuckle, trying not to laugh too forcefully and pull his ribs. "If I'm even considering this sort of thing again, you have my full permission, man. Hell, I'll call him myself and tell him to come give me a whooping." He managed a small smile. He knew Jamie had been mad at him, but at least it wasn't the terse lecture Mr. Summers had given him, or the completely wordless exchange with Alison.

"I already called dibs on siccing Guido on you. No reversing the dibs." Jamie mock-glared. "Even congenital twits with hero complexes know better than to try to reverse the dibs."

"You called post-stupidity dibs," Doug demurred. "I called dibs on preeempting the stupidity. Two completely different situations." He smiled more naturally. If he and Jamie could be joking about things, he got the feeling that everything would be okay, maybe not right now, but eventually.

"I called summoning-Guido-to-kick-your-ass dibs. It's all-inclusive." Jamie sat back, turning serious again. "And speaking of dibs, you do realize that e-mail doesn't count anymore since you're not dead? I mean, I'd do anything for you, man, but you're getting out of dutch with Angie on your own."

Sobering quickly, Doug stared at the wall. "I know. She...she hasn't come down yet. And I get the feeling the longer she takes, the worse it's going to be. I know I screwed up, and she was the one who hurt the most. I just...I don't know how to fix this, Jamie, how to make it better. I don't know that I _can_ make it better." He sighed.

"She's only hurt because she loves you, man. You guys'll work it out in the end." Jamie sighed, remembering. "Sometimes we just have to learn it the hard way, I guess."

"And in my case, the hard way involves learning that wearing Kevlar doesn't mean you won't get a few ribs cracked." Doug shrugged. "And get lectured by half the mansion on the effects of rampant stupidity." He nodded. "I hope it works out in the end, because I gotta say that the longer she waits, the more nervous I'm getting."

"Probably deservedly. And I dunno if she's doing it consciously, but she might be doing it on purpose, if that makes sense." Jamie shook his head. "At least the times I've been in trouble with Kitty for not trusting her enough, I was able to get up and go look for her." He raised a wry eyebrow. "One more reason, I might point out, not to get shot."

"Oh, it makes a lot of sense," Doug said with a small, defeated-looking shrug. "And I can't even say I blame her. I was stupid, I didn't tell anyone, _especially_ her, and she had to watch me take a bullet. And yeah, not being able to go find her sucks. The doctors won't even let me have my laptop, yet, so I can't try and get a hold of her that way." He shifted slightly in his bed, wishing he were able to go to Marie-Ange.

"You'll work it out. I have faith. As long as you don't try and get up to go look for her before the docs say you can go, anyway, because further dumb at this point would not be your friend. If she's up for talking about it I'll see if I can lean on her friendly-like to come down so you can be contrite some more, how about?"

"That'd be...really good of you," Doug said softly. "Mostly, I'm scared that she either isn't coming down because she's not going to come down, or that she'll come down just to tell me that she can't forgive me for not telling her, and either way, we're done." Tears began to roll down his face again. "God, Jamie, I don't know when I'm going to wake up _not_ scared for a while, now..."

Jamie winced, all too familiar with that feeling. "It takes a while. Doc Samson's a big help, if you wanna take this as the suggestion instead of me tying you to your chair again and leaving you on his doorstep. I . . . dunno what to tell you about Angie, only, if she _didn't_ care, she wouldn't be pissed, and she's pretty pissed, so there's something there. Up to you two what happens next, I guess. The rest, well, not like you're the only one in our room who's had to deal with this kinda stuff. I'm here for you, man."

Jamie's last statement managed to calm Doug a bit. "That...that means a lot, Jamie," he whispered. "I know how angry you are, and I know that I deserve all this lecturing, because I was stupid, but it means a lot to know you're still here for me." He sighed. "And hopefully, Angie will be able to forgive me eventually."

"I'm always gonna be here, even when I'm mad. Like you were when I was being an idiot and not getting the help I needed. And everything else'll work out how it works out." Jamie smiled, then glanced over his shoulder at the door. "And I'm probably outstaying my 'yell at the moron in the medlab' visiting privilege, here, so I should probably take off before they kick me out, huh?"

Doug shrugged listlessly. "I guess. Gets kinda lonely in here, though. Maybe work on the docs and see if they'll let me have my laptop?" He didn't hold out much hope of it working, but he figured it was worth a try.

"I'll stop in on my way out and work my clean-cut farmboy charm on Doc Bartlet, see what she says." Jamie patted Doug carefully on the arm as he got up. "Rest up, man. Get better. At least you've got the chance to, and that's something."