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“He will walk out of here,” Taylor interrupted.
Marty bit her lower lip. “Yeah, but, well, I just need to tell him.”
“Then let's do it,” Taylor said, pulling Marty forward and into the room. She led Marty to the top of Derrick's bed, and stood behind her. “They said his vital signs are stable.”
“When will he wake up again?” Marty asked, her forehead furrowed as she looked her brother up and down. “He is so still. He is never this still. Is he okay?”
“They sedated him. He was trying to move too much when he was awake the last time. To help him rest they gave him some medicine,” Taylor explained, trying to recall and reiterate all the information May had given her. Marty reached and grabbed Derrick’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “They said once things stabilize, they will try to wean him off of the life support.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Fletcher, but we need to do his x-ray now,” May said from the door.
Taylor nodded, and turned to see Marty lean down and kiss Derrick’s forehead. “I love you, big brother.” Marty came back to Taylor, grabbing her arm.
“Should we wait in the waiting room?” Taylor asked May.
“Taylor, Henry secured a private area for you to wait,” Mick informed her from the doorway. Taylor turned to find Rog and Luke beside him. “I have already given the staff the number to the room. When they are ready they can call for you.”
“Henry was here?” Taylor asked, completely dumbfounded.
Mick gave a quick nod and started off down the hall. Taylor and Marty followed, Rog behind them while Luke stayed stationed at Derrick’s doorway.
They were brought down a long corridor to an elevator. Along the way, they passed multiple security guards and police officers and Taylor was certain their presence was thanks to Henry. Marty and Taylor were ushered inside the elevator as soon as the door slid open, and Mick slid a key into the panel and turned it, holding it in place and hitting up.
“Are we going to the bat cave?” Marty asked Taylor in a whisper as both women watched in confusion.
“No, no. The bat cave would be down, we are going up,” Taylor said analyzing the situation.
“Oh, you’re right,” Marty agreed. “Who has a hideout up high?”
Taylor shrugged, “Ironman?”
“Well shape up, Tony Stark, the Fletcher girls are coming over,” Marty joked, her overtired status clearly taking over.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened to a darkened floor that lit up as soon as Mick stepped out. Taylor went to follow, but Rog stepped in front of them.
“Stay here,” Rog said in his deep voice as Mick unsheathed a gun and walked around.
“Should we tell them that they are really no match for Ironman?” Marty asked and Taylor laughed. It felt really good to finally laugh and soon they were both cracking up. Mick returned less than a minute later, rolling his eyes and smirking as he took in Taylor and Marty’s giggle fest.
“All set,” he said motioning for the two women to follow him.
“What is this?” Taylor asked, exiting the elevator and taking in the polished marble floor and ornate crown molding in the space before her.
“Executive suites,” Mick explained. “For the hospital’s, uh, more elite clientele.”
“And we have this—”
“At your disposal, Mrs. Preston-Fletcher.”
“Of course it is,” Taylor said with an eye roll. She wondered how many people were trekking back and forth to visit their loved ones while her spoiled rich ass was up here.
Mick led them into the lit space and it was a huge, open floor plan suite right in front of them.
“Taylor, why don’t you and I head to the bathroom. I can help you get out of that dress,” Marty said, way more at ease with this whole penthouse arrangement than Taylor was. Her discomfort with excess was her mother’s doing. Elizabeth Preston was never quiet about how easy they had it compared to blue-collar, hardworking families.
Taylor looked down, shocked to see that she was still wearing her dress.
“Did you honestly forget you were wearing it? It’s like ten pounds of material and it’s covered in sequins,” Marty said dryly, rolling her eyes. “Okay, let's go. I have a bag of goodies to dress you down, Princess.” She pulled Taylor over to a bathroom, in true Marty-take-charge fashion, and Taylor followed without question. She knew it was her way to cope—Marty needed to be in control of something or she would go crazy.