Chapter Text
It was a miracle really, Charles Grant survived a shot to the head.
The bullet crushed through his skull and tore through the whole of his frontal lobe before exiting through the tip of his parietal lobe and finally the other side of his skull.
A miracle, at least that’s what everyone says.
It feels like a miracle the first time he opens his eyes, Speirs gasps, Gene visibly relaxes, exhales the air he seems to have held in for four days straight.
It took him four days to open his eyes for the first time after surgery.
Chuck doesn’t notice any of it, everything’s blurry, swallowed by a throbbing pain that feels like it’s trying to push his head apart. He has no idea where he is, what happened, actually his brain is so fried that for the first weeks he barely has any concept of who he is either.
He is awake, at least somewhat. After a few moments a pained groan leaves his dry throat and he quickly fades back into unconsciousness.
Out of some deep instinct he tries to fight it. You shouldn’t just let yourself give into the darkness like that, it tells him.
But there isn’t much he can do, he tries to keep his eyes open and in the next second they slip closed.
He’s rarely conscious during that time, barely blinks his eyes open and sees blurry figures staring at him before the pain pulls him back under and he drifts through deep, black, relieving unconsciousness.
It’s the best state he can be in really, at least for the time being, everything else is agony.
The guys are always by his side. They talk a lot, he doesn’t understand any of it. It also sounds like they’re singing sometimes, maybe they were or as he later figures out, maybe it was the insane amount of opioids he was on for a bit.
Tab confirms this, they sure as hell were not singing, everyone was too worried for that.
“Hearable hallucinations” Tab called it. Or well something like that, Chuck figures. Auditible? Audible? that’s probably the word.
One time during the second week after surgery he wakes up while they’re repositioning his body. At some later point he learns that this is important to prevent pressure sores.
He panics. The cold hands on his skin are like a shock, he knows he's supposed to fight, to get away from it.
Then he panics more because his body is not doing anything he wants it to while every part of his being is screaming “FLIGHT FLIGHT FLIGHT”.
But he stays put, breathes too quickly and tires himself out. He’s gone after two minutes and Tab gets a reassuring look from Gene. They all know this is hard on him. He and Chuck are close after all, Buddy’s one could say.
When he starts being conscious for longer stretches after twenty four days, Tab is keeping track, he realises there’s always someone by his side. It’s nice he figures without exactly thinking it. It leaves a positive feeling which is what matters for now.
The problem is, he can’t properly enjoy it. They’re always fucking loud.
Or maybe they aren’t but his head hurts.
If he tries to tell them to shut up nothing comes out, except for pathetic whines or groans at times. They mostly end up thinking he’s in pain and push him back into dreamland with another round of pain meds.
If he doesn’t acknowledge them his head starts pounding.
Naturally, he prefers if it’s only a few of them in his room, some more than others but he's glad they don't know that.
Eugene is there a lot. Chuck wonders if he did the surgery? It would make sense, probably. Chuck isn’t sure.
He takes his hand and holds it, he looks at him like he’s willing him to be okay. And Gene doesn’t need him to respond, he knows Chuck is in there even if with his droopy eyes and unmovable body he probably doesn’t seem like it.
When Chuck opens his eyes to acknowledge Gene entering he says "Looking good", when Chuck manages to squeeze his hand he says "Good job". Eugene can probably barely feel it Chuck thinks, but hearing words like that lifts his mood quite a bit.
The first thing he gets better at again is thinking. Doesn’t seem like much but his brain was mush three weeks ago. It’s still mostly garbled nonsense, he can process the things he hears but even in his head responding to information is hard.
He mostly just thinks about the pain, his frustration with his stupid fucking body and food. Oh he thinks about food a lot. Sometimes the guys will enter his room and eat things that smell so delicious it makes hit mouth water. He misses food.
Right now he can barely open his mouth, not to mention swallowing is a real nightmare in and off itself. He keeps on almost choking on his own spit.
Gene tells him over and over that he has to be patient with himself.
That he got shot in the head.
That it’s going to take time until he can eat and drink safely again and that they have his back. Chuck knows, Chuck understands and still he can’t help but be impatient about it. It doesn’t feel like a lot to want, he’s not asking to get up and dance or go outside or anything. He just wants to feel like a person.
He gets fed via a tube that apparently delivers all the nutrients he needs.
One of the nurses that knows english told him that, she’s rather chatty. Not really a problem but Chuck does feel a little bad that he’s probably just going to forget everything she tells him anyway.
Some days Captain Nixon, is he still a Captain? Chuck isn’t sure, but it doesn’t matter. He can’t address his higher ups properly anyway, now can he?
Well, some days Captain Nixon comes to his room and he tells him some of the stuff that’s been going on. Not all of it, Chuck’s sure. But some of the easier things. Stuff that Chuck will maybe actually be able to remember.
Nixon jokes around too, it starts a little while after his first visit, but it’s the thing Chuck probably appreciates the most.
He likes those days, he feels like he’s missing out on everything and Nixon brings some normalcy. Luz does the same thing when he’s got time to spare, it’s nice.
Sometimes Winters joins Nixon, Chuck is utterly confused about what rank Winters has right now, everything’s a mess, but once again, he figures it doesn’t matter too much.
He can’t help but notice that Winters is really gentle. He brings coffee and food for Tab and the others. He sits next to the bed and is quiet for a while before he asks Tab or Eugene about how Chuck is doing.
Eventually he’ll tell Chuck about the things Nixon didn’t update him on, mostly military stuff which Chuck can’t contain for long anyway. But Chuck is grateful that Winters finds time at all. That he cares. It means a lot.
Speirs is similar, he comes by every other day and asks one of the guys that are there how Chuck is doing. He smiles proudly when things get a little better. Surprisingly he also finds uplifting words if there’s a setback.
You can’t truly get to know a man in war, can you? Or was it you really get to know a man during war? Doesn’t matter.
Chuck figures that the war being over is the reason for Speirs being so different from the way he was characterised by the guys in Easy.
But Chuck also struggles with that line of thought. Is the war over?
Factually he’s very sure it is. Has been for a while.
But it’s not over to him. Sometimes when he looks at the other guys, Tab when he’s tired, Martin when somewhere down the hallway a door bangs shut, Luz when his gaze drifts far away and he is unusually quiet for a few minutes, he thinks that maybe it’s not over to them either.
When Speirs is by his side, Tab and Gene can go get some rest and that in turn relieves Chuck. Speirs stays for hours.
They mostly listen to the radio together, Speirs makes sure it’s not too loud, and Chuck is at least somewhat entertained. Music is soothing and he likes the news. It does get repetitive sometimes but also he’s literally been stuck in bed for over a month now, any distraction helps.
He can’t help but wonder if Speirs shouldn’t be busy but one time Luz tells him that Lipton told him that Speirs had said that he feels rather guilty for what happened to Chuck and that’s the reason why he tries to be there a day per week at least.
When guys who he rarely sees come over he hears the same things every single time.
“If it wasn’t for Speirs you’d be dead.”
“Sarge, we really thought that was it.”
“You know Chuck? That surgeon called you the toughest guy he’d ever met”
And he’s grateful, really. That they still talk about him and to him, that they come by and check in, that they care and try to help.
But Chuck doesn’t feel so tough sometimes.
Sometimes he chokes on his own fucking spit and when he tries to cough, it doesn’t work how he wants it to and- oh, is he going to choke because his stupid body won’t cooperate?
He doesn’t, because some arms grab him and turn him onto his side. “It’s gonna be okay. Breathe.” Gene says with that reassuring voice of his and rubs circles in between the blades of his shoulders. And Chuck just wants to run or hide because he is so sick of feeling like this. Like he can do nothing on his own, like his body isn’t his own.
Sometimes he wonders what he’s supposed to do if things stay like this.
He doesn’t want to be a burden.
Most days he just wants to cry and ask why it had to be him. Why he had to survive at all. And it’s probably so selfish of him, because so many of the boys, so many literal kids didn’t make it and heaven knows what they would have given to be able to go back home.
But the pain in his head and the tingling and burning sensation in his half numb limbs are driving him insane.
Every day is the same and he still doesn’t really know what happened to him because he can’t ask and he keeps on forgetting everything. It’s a proper miracle that he still knows his own name.
He knows he was shot, in the head. He doesn’t know who it was. It wasn’t in battle, because the war was already over. He thinks.
He can’t be sure because everything in his head is foggy, it’s all a mess.
But he knows Speirs and Tab were both there at some point between him getting shot and brought into the hospital. Fuck, he hopes someone is making sure Tab is okay.
And so, actually he doesn’t feel tough most of the time.
The one who is by his side the most is Tab. Of course it is.
Floyd Talbert, what an irony that he shares a first name with the guy who shot Chuck.
What a funny twist of the universe it is, when Floyd Talbert is Charles Grants favorite person ever.
They haven’t changed much from before, that’s what Chuck likes to think.
Tab is caring and warm and- actually, maybe he seems changed to everyone else, he hasn't but the difference is, that he’s not trying to hide how much he cares anymore.
They were close before this, not obviously so, there’s a tender line you have to walk if you’re gay in the military.
Chuck didn’t dare to be anything but a good friend to Tab, for the time being.
His fear of being found out, of putting Tab in danger overshadowed his feelings.
But they talked, supported each other, hoped that maybe if they made it out of this war they would get a chance. That maybe they could move to San Francisco, build a life and ultimately find peace together.
Tab is always tired now, Chuck knows he’s not sleeping well. And still he’s always by Chucks side.
He helps the nurses where he can, actually he takes over most of the tasks after having watched them a few times. Every single day he washes Chuck with warm towels, all 2 hours he positions his body to keep pressure sores away and anytime Chuck is awake and not visibly in agony he encourages him to try and move, he has to start somewhere, doesn’t he?
It’s relieving to be cared for by someone you’re close to but at the same time Chuck worries. Tab needs rest. He’s basically always sitting on one of those chairs which multiple people have claimed to be fucking uncomfortable. Tab needs rest, more of it.
But the guys help where they can, get him food and drinks and send him home to sleep. They take some of his duties onto their shoulders so he doesn’t have to worry about them.
Some boys of Easy start to whisper though.
Behind closed doors’s a few ugly words get muttered. Stories that someone heard from someone else get told, about Tab, about Chuck, about Speirs and Chuck. Have you heard how he looked at him? How he looked at the guy that almost killed Grant?
When he encounters a conversation like that some day Speirs is quick to shut them up.
He doesn't really want to turn it into a lecture but it ends up as one anyway, when a friend is in need you try your best to help them. Chuck gets told this happened some years later, he doesn’t really want to imagine it, in a situation like that Speirs is probably terrifying.
It’s with Tab when Chuck first smiles since it happened, of course it is, and it’s not a big moment initially, Tab is drinking some coffee Martin brought it in earlier.
He takes a sip and grimaces before he starts complaining “These people don’t know good coffee, Chuck.” Chuck isn’t sure who he’s talking about, Martin? Winters too? The whole of Austria?
It doesn’t matter, that grimace on Tabs face makes the corners of his lips draw up into a grin, and Talbert has to stop for a moment. “Hey. Are you making fun of me?” he’s joking.
And Chuck can’t help it, something about this situation is so absurd, so relieving, so different from all the other things that happened over the last few days. He laughs, or something similar to it, it’s a clumsy sound that bubbles up from his throat and it feels so weird but suddenly Tab is beaming and that’s all that matters.
“You know, if Luz was here he’d make some joke about your name and you chuckling.” he says with a grin. “Thank god he isn’t actually.” he wiggles his eyebrows playfully.
“That was the prettiest sound i’ve heard in a while, want to keep it all to myself.” he hums and brushes a strand of hair off Chucks forehead, his fingers linger, he takes Chucks hand again a moment later.
“I can’t wait to hear you laughing more often soon.” he sounds so genuine it makes Chuck smile again, he can’t help but wonder if Tab’s always been that sappy, not that he dislikes it.
He very much doesn’t actually, he’d love to tell Tab how handsome he looks when he smiles like that. How he hopes he can admire it for the rest of his life.
But he probably wouldn’t, Tab deserves better.
Tab says later that this was the moment he knew they could be okay.