Page 33 of Troy

The first officer speaks, “Mr. McMahon, Mr. Mathers here received a phone call and could hear voices, one of them seemingly your partner. He heard him arguing with two men but your partner managed to mention a name and his location. Mr. Mathers immediately called 911 and we sent a car to the area. After a search of the area, the officer found Mr. Ballantyne.”

“What name did you hear, Ben?” My stomach fills with dread, I have a gut feeling about this, then the second officer carries a plastic bag with the belt in it. Fuck!!! No! No way! This can’t be happening. I feel Corrigan’s hand tighten its grip and he gasps in shock. “Never mind, I know what was said.”

“Mr. McMahon, he was heard to say Deschamps. Do you recognize either the name or the belt?”

I can only nod.

“Deschamps,” Corrigan and I utter at the same time as the officer. “He’s our father.”

The doctor interrupts us, “Come this way, Mr. Ballantyne’s X-rays are complete. He is going to need surgery but you can see him briefly before we take him to the O.R.”

Following the doctor, we step through a set of doors, into a small room, and there he is. My lover, my life, my Troy.

Rushing up to the bed, I can hardly see his face for the cuts and bruises, his blond hair dark with blood. I can’t bear it; clasping his hand, I feel some warmth but there is no reaction from him. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. Please, baby, look at me, squeeze my hand, anything. I’m here, my love, I’m not going anywhere.”

A slight twitch from his fingers is all it takes for me to break down. Heavy, fat tears burst from my eyes as I sob. Leaning over him, I kiss his battered lips softly. “I love you, baby. I’ll deal with him, Troy; I’ll get him for this.” I whisper then feel another quiver from his hand.

Straightening, I step back, still holding his hand but letting the porters release the wheel locks on the bed and start to push him out the room. Walking with him, I keep his hand in mine, tears flowing freely down my cheeks.

“This is as far as you can go, Mr. McMahon.” The doctor says. “I’ll come and get you when he’s out of surgery; we’ll take good care of him.”

Nodding, I kiss the back of his hand before placing it gently on the bed. The doctor presses a button on the wall to open the doors and I stand alone, watching them wheel my life away from me. A gentle touch to my arm breaks my stupor, a nurse stands beside me.

“Let’s go back to your friends, you need them around you.” She smiles sweetly as I nod, letting her escort me back the way we came.

Nico, Ryan and Ben are in the waiting room, my brother stands to one side, conversing with the police. One of the men is on his radio and, unable to hear what he says, I walk towards them to find out.

Corrigan looks at me and comes over to embrace me. “It was him, Raff. The hotel CCTV shows him approaching Troy and them leaving together.”

“I’m going to kill him, I’m going to find the fucker and kill him.” My words hang in the silent room.

“Raff,” Nico calls my name, focusing on him I see tears staining his face, “how is he?”

“He’s alive, but I don’t know how. There isn’t a part of him that isn’t cut or bruised.” My words stick in my throat as another sob breaks free.

“He’s a fighter, Raff, he’ll pull through. There is no way he will give up; he’s only just found you.” Nico says softly.

Hearing my name, the first police officer strides up to me. “Raff, can I call you that?” I nod my acquiescence, “Raff, your father has left the area; his private jet was cleared for takeoff thirty minutes ago.” The cop holds up his hands when we talk at once. “Hold on, I haven’t finished. A warrant for his arrest has been issued and he will be detained as soon as he lands. We are going back to the station now; your brother knows how to get in touch.” The cop points to Corrigan who nods.

Once the cops have gone, I sit back on one of the soft chairs and drop my head in my hands. Heaving a huge breath, I feel hands on me and, as I drag my hands down my face, I see the concern on the men surrounding me. Nico’s hand on my shoulder, Corrigan tightly clasps one of my hands in his.

“I don’t know what to do?” Corrie whispers, tears stream down his face.

“Corrie, this is enough.” I lift his hand to my mouth and kiss the back. “Just having you back in my life, having you here, today, is enough.”

The room grows tranquil, my friends’ voices muffled and words hushed as they talk quietly. After what seems like a lifetime, the door opens and a tall, dark man in deep blue scrubs walks in, glancing around. His eyes settle on me and he smiles, is this good news from this stranger?

“Rafferty?” He questions as I stand. The other men gather around me, their hands on my back or shoulders.

“That’s me.” I croak as the words lodge in my throat.

“Am I okay to talk here?” I nod, letting him continue. “My name is Denver Sinclair, I’m the chief trauma surgeon here. Troy is out of surgery, he had a bleed on his brain and we have put him in an induced coma to give him time to heal. It is a complication we knew could happen but hoped wouldn’t. As for his other injuries, we have pinned and reset his left arm after a nasty break in his humerus, consistent with being stamped on. His ribs are cracked and broken on both sides but will heal quickly with rest, he has damage to the anterior cruciate ligament in his left knee. His collapsed lung has been repaired. The lacerations to his body caused by the belt buckle have been cleaned and stitched where necessary as well as the cuts to his face and hands.” He takes a deep breath as he struggles with his emotions.

“What else? What else happened?” I panic, moments from racing out to find him.

“No, that’s it. I am preparing a report for the police and I will be stating that this was an attempt on his life, and he is lucky to survive.” The strain on the doctor’s face is obvious.

“When can I see him?” I move towards him, desperate to get back to Troy.

“They are moving him to ICU now and he will be ready in thirty minutes. I have made arrangements for you to stay with him and I will allow your friends here five minutes with him. After that, it will be restricted to two visitors at a time. But only for a few minutes each visit; we will keep him sedated and pain-free. We will bring him slowly out of his coma as we monitor his recovery.”

I reach out to shake his hand but end up pulling him into a hug. “Thank you, thank you for keeping him alive.”

Stepping away, he smiles and nods, “A nurse will be with you shortly.”

Time goes by swiftly as I wait, watching the door for the nurse to arrive. Rising, I walk over to her. “Take me to him.” I request.

Taking a seat at Troy’s bedside, I examine the gauze bandages and stitches covering his face and hands, my resolve strengthening at the thought of this being caused by my father. Whether it was by him or on his command, I am determined to ruin him. I know the cops will have him soon enough and they had better keep him locked up or I will make good on my promise. I pick up Troy’s hand and kiss his palm, one area not damaged. Resting my head on the edge of the bed, I break down again, weeping silently into the blanket.

“Oh, Troy, baby, come back to me. There is so much for us to do, so much for us still to learn and discover about each other. Heal, baby. Heal, then come back to me.”

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