muserevival | 116.7. Misc/Random

lassitude: (n) weariness of body or mind from strain, oppressive climate, etc.; lack of energy; listlessness; languor

With themiraclekid

Clint would do anything for Angela. That was no secret. They had a past, they dated for awhile when they were in the Academy together. It was, admittedly, mostly physical. Angela had needed a lot more than physical and back then, Clint was a lot worse than he was now. It said a lot that the first person he had truly been in love with was Lincoln. Love wasn’t on his radar.

But it was exactly why his mood was in the shitter right now. He wasn’t in a bad mood, though it probably did exhibit that way. Inside, he was torn up. He was terrified that Lincoln was going to die. He couldn’t shake it. He had been there every day and he could visibly see Lincoln wasting away. Now it had taken another turn for the worst. Lincoln had been in a lot of pain and they had been discussing operating again, but if they went in and found things worse than they hoped, he could have a permanent stoma. It was horrific to think about. Now, he couldn’t take anything orally. Any other time, that would be cause for joking. This time, it was really fucking serious. It was legitimate concern that he was getting worse. Clint was fucking terrified.

Still, he was finding himself pulled into these situations where his friends needed his help. Clint couldn’t say he was the sort not to say no to anyone. He did, a lot. In fact, he could downright tell you to go fuck yourself if he didn’t want to do something. Zoran had been the exception to the rule because Clint understood the level of pain the guy had gone through being blindsided in the past. Ange was always an exception too. If she asked him for help, she needed it. He understood why she did this time. Clint would be straight to the point on this stuff. All along, his opinion was that Ainsley wasn’t cut out to be a cop. Clint had seen a lot of dead bodies in his time. You harden to it. But he knew Ainsley never would.

Clint couldn’t even really pretend it was okay. This was all he had to give now. He told Emily she had to stay at the hospital with Lincoln while he was gone. He didn’t tell her that he needed her to do that in case Lincoln died and wasn’t alone. The kid sitting next to him was acting like Clint was whisking him off to Disneyland. All that was missing were fucking mouse ear hats and cotton candy. There was no way in the fucking world this kid was built to be a cop.

You would never have been able to tell that, inside, Clint was close to tears himself. Not, he didn’t fucking want to be near the morgue. Not when Lincoln had nearly ended up here in a body bag. He didn’t want to see a dead body anymore than Ainsley did. He just wouldn’t show his emotion. Instead, he was silent and stoic on the outside. He just needed to get this over with. He wasn’t at all surprised that Ainsley didn’t make it in there, though. He thought he might have gotten into the actual autopsy room before he freaked the fuck out.

When Ainsley was losing his shit, crying and puking all over the place, Clint just stood there, scratching his head tiredly while he waited for it to stop. Ange was seriously going to owe him for this. He held Ainsley up by the shoulder and he had no intentions but doing anything other than letting the janitor deal with the mess. When Ainsley was done, Clint just sighed and gave his shoulder a small squeeze and then looped his arm around Ainsley’s shoulders to lead him back out to the car. “Alright, c’mon, kid. Let’s go.”

Hopefully this particular saga of Ange’s life was over now and she could have some peace.

clint chevalier
original character