Page 57 of Small Sacrifices

Even though Max has largely calmed down by the time they arrive at Sacred Heart, the woman behind the way-too-brightly lit reception desk leans forward as soon as she sees him approaching.

"Hello, young man. Do you need help? Are you hurt?"

Max's shoulders lock up tight at being addressed that way, but he doesn't say anything about it. It's tempting to reach out and squeeze Max's shoulder, but Reid resists the urge. He doesn't want to risk causing any more discomfort.

"No," Max says. "But my brother texted me he was being brought here. I want to see him."

"When was this?"

"Like… eighty minutes ago?" Reid nods to confirm when he gets a look. At least he thinks it's right. It's too late to be doing any sort of math.

"Alright." The woman clacks away at her keyboard, the noise amplified by her long gel nails. It makes Reid want to plug his ears. "Traffic is good today, so he should have arrived by now. What's his name?"

"Everett Susumu Mackenzie."

What follows is silence. The woman's fingers have stalled on the keyboard and she's staring now, disbelief frozen on her face. After a moment, she composes herself, but Max has definitely noticed. He's straightened up, like he's trying to look taller.

"Do you have an ID?" she asks.

Of course. Reid is already berating himself for not making sure of that when he sees Max drag a little plastic card out of his wallet.

It's just a student ID, which might not be enough on its own, but next to it, Max lays an ID which looks remarkably similar to Reid's old work ID and a credit card that also has his name on it.

"I don't have my driver's license yet," he explains.

Squinting, the woman looks up and down between Max's face and the identification on her desk. "Pull your hair back for me?" she asks. Then she sighs. "Man, I really hope you're telling the truth. Otherwise, I'm about to be in huge trouble."

It's like a huge weight drops off Reid's shoulders. That means she'll tell them, right? She'll let them in to see Everett? Max's shoulders sag as well. Again, Reid has to keep himself from reaching out.

"You said he texted you." She bites down onto the edge of one of her nails, raps the nails of her other hand onto her desk a few times. Reid clenches his jaw at the noise. "Did he say what happened?"

"No." Max's voice is high and quiet. His eyes are roving around the room. Thankfully, this late at night, the people who are there are preoccupied with themselves. "But I know my dad was arrested. I can guess. It's happened before."

This time, at least, the woman keeps her face under control. But Reid can imagine it might be difficult. He himself still struggles with hearing Max call his father dad. Everett never does that, and for good reason.

"Right. Well. Police are documenting his injuries. If there is going to be a court case, this is very important. I can let you up to a family waiting room, but you can't see him yet."

"Are they bad?" Max's voice breaks on the last word and he cringes, but he soldiers on. "His injuries. Are they bad?"

"I don't know, honey." She looks almost patronizing in her pity. "But it's a good sign that they're documenting injuries instead of treating them. Usually, that means patients don't need urgent medical care."

Reid wants to ask what "usually" means—what happens in those situations where urgent medical care is needed—but when Max sags in relief, he decides those questions can wait. Instead, he gently touches Max's elbow, a small gesture to remind him he's not alone. Max gives him a grateful look.

They're guided to a small family lounge on the second floor, the same floor where Everett is. The room is cluttered with magazines and tissue boxes, clearly designed for families waiting through emergencies and difficult operations. The light is still too bright for Reid at this late hour, but at least it’s a bit softer and doesn’t make his eyes hurt as much.

Waiting is even more miserable now that they know something has happened, but not how bad it was.

In Reid's living room, they at least had something interesting to entertain them and keep their minds off it.

Here, they just have each other. Reid asks Max if he needs anything.

Unsurprisingly, Max isn't interested in talking.

He just puts his wireless earbuds in and watches something on his phone.

So Reid tries to figure out what else needs to be done. He sends Everett a text to tell him where they are, just in case that helps anything. Does he even still have his phone?

He updates Marisol next. Her response is so full of expletives and emojis that he almost laughs.

She's now in contact with the lieutenant governor, who's preparing to make a statement in the morning.

A press conference has already been called.

Reid's compulsive need to document everything and back it up at least twice pays off, as Marisol now has the latest notes from Mackenzie's old laptop.

Not that this is the most pressing issue right now, but it seems Lieutenant Governor Coleman wants to address both matters at once. Reid can't blame her.

When Marisol asks him if he could please tell Everett that it would be best if he made some sort of statement soon, he almost throws his phone.

For the first time in his life, he understands why people sometimes call in the middle of long text chains.

He really, really wants to shout at her.

Thankfully, it turns out that once he lets Marisol explain herself, it's not nearly as bad as he thought.

I'm not asking him to the press conference!

Jesus, calm your tits. Just a written statement that clearly states what happened, even if it doesn't go into detail.

We can do it through Coleman if he likes, or he can post it on his own social media and then go dark for a while.

They'll probably shove cameras in his face, I imagine he'll want to get away from that.

Also, have you seen him yet? Not to put too fine a point on it, but a picture might help. If he has injuries that he's willing to show. This isn't just about the legal process. If he wants people on his side, he has to get them there quick.

Right. She's already thinking about PR angles on this. Reid can't fault her for that, considering their plans. But he hates it. Hates that it even needs to be considered. It's the middle of the night, they're in a hospital, and Everett's injuries are still being documented.

With Everett not there to guide them, most of it feels moot, but it occupies Reid's mind. He keeps texting Marisol, keeps thinking about it. A headache is blooming behind his temples, and he knows it's only going to get worse. He welcomes the distraction.

An alarm suddenly blares nearby, accompanied by a cacophony of loud beeping and rushed voices. At the sudden noise, Reid instinctively tries to shrink into his uncomfortable chair. Clenching his jaw only sends pain shooting up his temples.

As he struggles his way through a breathing exercise, Reid thinks that it's a good thing he's not alone.

He can usually keep himself calm if someone else is depending on him.

On his own, he'd be sitting in the dark, just trying not to scream.

Then again, if he were alone, there'd be no one to object if he turned the lights off.

A look over into Max's corner shows that the kid is still immersed in his phone, face illuminated by the screen. Maybe Reid is just imagining that Max is depending on him. Either way, it's keeping him together. That justifies a bit of harmless delusion, doesn't it?

Both of them just about jump out of their chairs when someone knocks on the door. Reid is still a bit too caught up in his thoughts to react quickly, so it's Max who says, "Come in!"

Then he abruptly scrambles to his feet and launches himself towards the door before Reid even registers that the person who just opened it is Everett.

Everett, who bites down on a sound of pain and bends himself out of the way a bit, but still hugs his little sibling back just as fiercely as he is being hugged.

"It's alright," he keeps saying, "I'm here, it's alright. It's over." Relief is coating his voice, making it thick and hoarse. The hand he's got in his sibling's hair keeps stroking almost automatically. He doesn't even stop when the splint gets caught in it—if either of them even notices.

Reid swallows against a lump in his throat.

At first glance, Everett looks… whole. A bit roughed up, maybe, but not horribly injured.

His left eye is swollen and red. Then, there's the split lip and the splint guarding two of the fingers on his left hand.

It looks like his forearms are scratched up and bruised. That's not too bad, right?

Then, with a sound like an angry cat, Max rips himself out of his brother's arms. Everett almost loses his balance at the sudden movement, and grimaces in pain. But Max doesn't notice.

"Why did you do that?" he demands. There are tears shining on his face, but when Everett reaches out to wipe them away, Max leans back. "Answer me!"

"You know why," Everett says. Even as quietly as he speaks, his voice sounds hoarse. Reid wonders if he was screaming earlier or if the officers just made him talk for too long. "I needed this to be over. I needed you to be safe."

"And what about your safety? He could have killed you!"

Everett's lips flatten into an unimpressed line. "But he didn't. And now we won't have to worry about it anymore, so I'd say it was well worth it."

"Worth it?" Max almost screeches the words. "How do you know the police aren't just gonna let him go in the morning? You know he gets away with things—he has friends! He's always told us—"

"I have him on tape, Max." Everett's voice is firm, but his eyes reveal a deep exhaustion. "I have him recorded saying he'd kill me, and then he attacked me. They can't just let him out. And they can't make you go back there. It's over."