Tied Up In Knots

Duncan’s POV

The doors to the hospital waiting room slid open at a snail’s pace and it took everything I'd had to not smash the glass out because of their lack of urgency. Isn't this the fucking Emergency Room? Shouldn't the doors go at a speed that implies emergency? Fuck I'd settle for casual, but the pace was more melancholy, and melancholy didn't work for me. Not under the circumstances. Instead of smashing, which was my first choice, I scowled. Scared the shit out of a little old lady, but finally made my way into the ER and to the desk where I hoped to get some answers, real answers, not the bullshit I got from Burs.

"She's in the fucking hospital Duncan. Some bastard jumped her from behind near her apartment, took her bag, but not before he got a couple of good punches in first. Now where the fuck were you when all this was going on?" Adam had said when he’d called me to give me the news. He was right. Where was I?

“Son of a bitch,” I whispered under my breath and ran my hand through my hair trying to relieve even a minuscule amount of anxiety. I felt curls, curls that I worked diligently to tame every day, but couldn't have given a fuck about as I threw on my clothes and ran out of my apartment less than an hour earlier. All I could think about was getting to Lydie. "Excuse me," I said as I approached the desk. The nurse's eyes slowly looked up from her paperwork. "I'm trying to find Lydia Sharp."

"And you are?" She asked in a nasal tone that turned my stomach.

"I'm Duncan Keith."

She rolled her eyes at me. I guess I'd given her the wrong answer, and she obviously felt I was wasting her time. "Who are you in relation to Mrs. Sharp?"

Now that was the question of the fucking millennium wasn't it. What was I? Not her husband that was for damn sure. Was I her boyfriend, her lover, her friend with benefits, extraordinary benefits? Not that I would have told this woman that anyway. What would Lydie want me to say? What did she want me to be? Hell, what did I want her to be? I wanted the whole enchilada, but I was feeling desperate and would settle for anything at this point. The woman in front of me obviously had no time or energy for my deep pondering for an answer to her question and I had more questions than I did answers. So…grasping at straws I blurted out…"Boyfriend."

"You sure?" she asked looking up at me through doubtful eyes, clearly not impressed with my lag time in answering.

"Yes maam, I'm sure," I replied using my best manners, trying to gain her respect, but not sure it was possible.

"Well her husband is in the waiting room, so maybe you ought to discuss it with him first."

Fuck Me! Like Sharpie was going to tell me anything. Relying on him had to be my last resort, so I gave it one last college try. Why not, I went to college? "Lydia and her husband are in the middle of a divorce. He's not likely to give me any information. I just really want to know how she's doing. Think you can help me out here, cut me a break? I just need to know that she's OK." I gave her my best desperate face and waited.

"I'm not sympathetic to your cause Mr.…Keith was it? You are not a relative of Mrs. Sharp, the hospital policy clearly states that only immediate relatives are to be given information about patients. 'Boyfriends' are not immediate relatives the last time I checked, especially when a husband is clearly present so you are gonna have to work it out with him. Now if you'll excuse me." Her eyes tilted downward letting me know in no uncertain terms that she was not open to anymore questioning.

I was convinced I couldn't catch a fucking break, but then I did. I was leaning helplessly against the counter ready to put my tail between my legs and go talk to Sharpie, when the doors to the Emergency Room slid open. They opened no faster than they had for me, but somehow as the panes of glass separated it was as if they were paying homage to the woman who walked through them. She wore a pale yellow suit her dark hair slicked back in a professional looking ponytail and dark glasses that perched on her slender nose. Her black heals added three inches to her tiny stature and something told me that despite her lack of height she never needed to look up at anyone.

I recognized her as Lydie's friend Claire and briefly wondered how she could look like that at 12:30 at night, so polished and put together. She acknowledged me with a wink as she sauntered up to the counter to face Lizzie Borden. I waited for her to be shot down and join my world of frustration, but Claire calmly removed her glasses and smiled knowingly down at the woman. Her air of confidence was a bit overwhelming, and I found myself wondering what the man in her life must be like, to handle a woman like that. Maybe that was it, maybe she wasn't the type of woman to be handled at all, clearly the nurse wasn't capable. Claire handed her a business card and the nurse talked to her for long moments, giving her details that I couldn't have paid her. The nodding of Claire's head assured me that she was being given all the information that I had been denied, and I couldn't help feeling more frustrated. My place in Lydia's life feeling even less valid. When it was all over Claire grabbed my elbow and lead me away from the counter and the serial killer nurse.

"You need to relax Duncan," she said as she dropped my arm.

"They won't tell me a God damn thing about her. I don't know if she's alive or dead." The frustration oozed from my pores. My treatment felt symbolic of my relationship with Lydia. I was no one in her life, not really.

Claire stroked my arm again soothingly. "She's going to be fine, and thank God for that. She's a tough cookie that one." I shuffled my feet waiting for the details feeling like Claire was the type of woman that couldn't be pushed. "She has a broken wrist from where the guy apparently yanked the purse away from her. Lydia put up quite a struggle. She has severe bruising on her arms, where she was grabbed and a black eye from where he hit her. It sounds like she fell back and hit her head on the pavement, because they diagnosed her with a mild concussion. The good news is that she's going to be fine Duncan, so try to relax."

Try to relax? The woman I loved was just beaten and robbed outside of her apartment, a place she wouldn't have even been if I hadn't given her a hard time about her ex. Her husband was sitting in the waiting room being treated like royalty while the hospital staff treated me like I was the one that had beaten her. They were not even obliging enough to tell me if she was alive. For all I knew she blamed me for what happened and never wanted to see me again. And the icing on the top of the mother fucking cake is that I did deserve the blame. I should have been with her. I should have kept her at my house, even if I was mad, I should have made her stay. I knew where she lived wasn't exactly safe. It made me feel uneasy the moment I saw it. I looked down at Claire and simply said, "This is all my fault."

"What? Did you put a hit out on Lydia?" Claire asked with a smug laugh. "Don't be ridiculous. You had every right to be pissed off for what happened between her and Guido."

"Guido?"

"Sorry, it's my pet name for her ex, cuz he's a major slime ball. She called me when she left your place. I told her the same thing. That you were right to make her choose, that Guido hanging around in her life wasn't healthy."

"Yeah but I should have…"

"You should have what Duncan?” She asked with a huff. “You should have kept her from leaving? You should have been there to beat the guy to a bloody pulp? Please, don't start that macho bullshit with me. What happened was not your fault and, instead of sulking, count your fucking blessings that it wasn't worse and then get over it. She's going to need you and you better not pull that bullshit with her."

"Wow." I replied completely speechless. She somehow managed to tell me off, make me feel like a peon and yet force me to see the light of day at the same time.

"I know I have a way with words. I'm just trying to save Lydia all the time and energy it's going to take to get you over 'the blaming yourself' stage. This isn’t about you, it’s about her, now just take care of her and skip the self doubt. It's really not attractive. You're good for her Duncan."

Claire was a perfect stranger but somehow she seemed all knowing, like I could ask her anything and she'd know the answer. Clearly, her answer wouldn't just be what I wanted to hear, which made asking her what I really wanted to know strangely more appealing. I went way out on a fucking limb. "I'm good for her sure, but do you think she can love me?" I ran my hand through my hair again and looked right at her making a confession, I'm not sure I'd made yet to myself. "I really need her to love me. Not right now, but eventually.” I paused for a moment before I added, “God I'm pathetic," under my breath and looked down at my feet suddenly feeling like a helpless child.

She gripped my arm almost like a man would if he were trying to reassure me, and appeared to be searching for the right way to phrase her response before she spurted it out. "Yes. I think she can Duncan, but you're going to have to be patient with her. Give her time and don't push, and I have no doubt she'll fall in love with you." She turned to start walking away, but quickly looked back over her shoulder at me. "And that crazy monkey sex you two have, I think you need to keep doing that." She put her glasses on her face, turned and headed toward the waiting room, leaving me there with a rare tinge of pink in my cheeks.

Claire was really something.

****

The waiting room was large filled with chairs, fake plants and sick people. The apple green walls and sad faces gave the room an air of depression. The last thing I wanted to do is sit in a chair that was too hard, read a magazine I couldn't give a fuck about, when I should be with Lydia.

The thought of Lydie lying in a hospital bed alone after taking the beating Claire described made my chest tighten. The idea that someone dared lay a hand on her made my blood boil with rage, and while I still blamed myself for what happened, Claire was right. This wasn’t about me; it wasn’t about how I felt. It was about the woman I loved and what I could do to make her heal from such a brutal experience. Beating the mother fucker that did this to her to within an inch of his life would only serve to make me feel better. I needed to calm down, get my emotions under control and bide my time until I could see Lydia.

I walked in to the waiting just in time to see Claire sit down with Sharp and Burish. I wasn’t sure I was up to the task of keeping my emotions under control while being in the same room with the man who groped Lydia 24 hours ago, the man who professed to love her but manipulated her at every opportunity. I nearly turned to walk away, when my eyes caught Sharpie's. He gave me a look that said I didn’t belong there, that I should get the fuck out because he was Lydia’s husband and I was nothing to her. That’s when I decided I'd be damned if I was going to make it that easy for him. I was going to fight for Lydia, and I was going to be here when she needed me. There was no way that little bastard was going to run me off.

I held my head high, walked toward them and took the seat next to Claire. In a series of nods my teammates acknowledged my presence, saving me the effort of exchanging pleasantries, and without words Claire gave my arm a reassuring squeeze that went undetected by Adam and Patrick. We sat in silence for sometime seemingly deep in thought, my thoughts were on how I could permanently remove Sharpie, his roaming hands and mind games from Lydia’s life permanently. I hadn’t come to any solutions, legal ones anyway, but I looked up to see Sharp glaring at me. “Something wrong Sharpie?” I asked.

**** Patrick’s POV

The nurse at the desk had sympathetically relayed the details of Lydia’s attack and the extent of her injuries. I wasn’t sure who I wanted to kill more, the man who did this to her or the one that had been taking my place in her life, the one that should have kept something like this from happening to her. Sitting in the dingy waiting room imagining Lydia’s pain, her broken bones, her bruised body was hell. As if that torture wasn't enough, Lydia’s best friend Claire, who hated me with a passion, came to join the party. She gave me the look of death as she sat across from me, then looked disgustedly at Adam, who was guilty by association. The Wicked Witch of the West took a seat across from us, and was followed shortly after by her flying monkey, Duncan, who surely thought he had some right to be there.

I had one thing on my side in this equation, the law. I was still Lydia’s husband and Duncan was nothing more than a lowly fuck, a simple indiscretion. The hospital staff would certainly see it that way, and I fully intended to use this fact to my advantage. He might be winning the battle because he was fucking my wife, but he wasn’t going to win the war, Lydia would eventually see it. She still loved me and I planned to use everything in my power to help her realize we were meant for each other, that Duncan Keith couldn't come close to giving her what I could.

I didn't realize I was staring until Duncan's words cut through the quiet of the room. “Something wrong Sharpie?” He said it quietly, but not quietly enough to hide the snide tone in his voice.

“What the fuck kind of question is that?" I asked my voice considerably louder than his,drawing the attention of everyone around us. "Did you take one too many pucks to the head? Of course there’s something wrong. My wife was attacked tonight.” I couldn't help but take pleasure in watching him cringe as I referred to Lyd as my wife.

“ex-wife.” I heard him say under his breath and I couldn’t help myself. “Be a man Duncan. If you have something to say, say it!” I demanded.

“She’s your ex-wife, or at least she would have been if you weren’t suck a manipulative little fuck.”

I felt Burs’ hand on my arm silently warning me that this was a hospital waiting room, but I wasn't deterred. I'd put up with enough from him and tonight of all nights, I wasn't going to let him have the upper hand. "You're lucky you're a good defenseman, because as a man you are a complete fail."

"Excuse me?" he asked gritting his teeth. Anger burned behind his eyes, but the tone of his voice barely revealed it.

"What kind of man goes after his teammates wife? His friend's wife?"

I saw Claire sit forward like she was going to say something, but she was cut off by Duncan who is never that quick with a comeback. He delivered what may as well have been an upper cut to my chin. "What kind of man cheats when he has a woman like Lydia?" The pleasured look on Claire's face made me sick to my stomach. Duncan took the wind right out of my sail, and he was absolutely right. I was about to slink back in my chair and admit defeat, but for once luck was on my side.

"Mr. Sharp?" A feminine voice called out. I stood, as the woman approached me. "Your wife is resting comfortably. She's awake off and on and kind of groggy. If you'd like to see her I can take you back."

My gaze moved across Claire who was snarling at me, to Duncan. Now he knew what it felt like to lose a battle. "Yes. I'd like to see her," I said holding my smirk of victory. I stood up and followed her victoriously toward my wife.

**** Duncan's POV

‘Fuck Me, I lost again', I thought as I slouched back in the rock hard seat. I loved her God Damn It, but that didn't matter at all to anyone it seemed… except Claire. You would have thought that Claire could read my mind. She turned to me and put her hand on my arm. "This isn't right," she said. "You should be the one going to see her Duncan. I'm going to see if I can get you back there." Finally someone got it. I finally felt justified in my anger and anxiousness. Having Claire on my side was a huge weapon in my arsenal, but just as Claire went to stand up, an attempt to help me out, Adam had to open his big fucking mouth.

"I don't think this is your fight. Why don't you sit your pretty little ass down and let Duncan fight his own battles."

Before I could even formulate a thought, Claire piped up. "What I do with my ass is none of your concern Mr. Burish, and I'm sick of seeing your partner in crime manipulate his way into Lydia's life." Damn she was feisty. I was extremely relieved she was on my side.

"If you didn't want me to be concerned about your pretty little ass you wouldn't wear your skirt so tight. You need to just stay out of it. If Lydia wants to see Duncan she'll see him."

"You really seem to have a thing for my ass. Now If you could focus for just a moment longer, you'd realize that Lydia has already chosen Duncan over your little sidekick. I'm just trying to see to it that this hospital understands that."

"You seem a little tense there Claire. Maybe you're skirt's too tight, need me to give you a hand with that?"

He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, and I thought maybe she'd pop him one, but she managed to maintain a professional demeanor. I guess that's a benefit of all those years in law school. "Is that a sexual innuendo?" Clarie asked, "because if it is, I am officially not interested."

"You're interested sweet cheeks; you're just not ready to admit it." Adam replied oozing confidence, but not rattling Claire.

I watched them like one would watch a tennis match, as they bantered back and forth. The topic of conversation seemed to switch from the love triangle that was presently eating away at me to the threat or perhaps the possibility of these two having sex, and somehow I completely missed the transition. Throwing around sexual innuendoes was something I fully expected from Burs, and I wondered if I was going to have to step in and shut him up, but Claire went toe to toe with him while managing somehow to take the high road. I wasn't sure if they were going take off the gloves and go at it or if they were going to tear each other's clothes off and go at it. Either way, going at it seemed inevitable.

"Not if you were the last man on earth. Not if my life depended on it. Not if you were my last chance for an orgasm till hell froze over."

"I might not be your last chance, but I'll sure as hell be the best! I can guarantee it."

She kept a completely straight face as she turned to look Adam directly in the eye. "What's going on with you sport, couldn't sell yourself as is? Had to add a guarantee? Does that work for all your high school fan girls, because no real woman would buy your line of bullshit."

"I got news for you gorgeous it's not just my lines that have been compared to a bull."

"Bullshit. I believe the comparison was made to bullshit, so what exactly, other than your lines, have been referred to as bullshit?" Claire sat back in her seat with a winning smirk, just as Sharpie came flying through the waiting room, "Let's go!" he directed to Burish." Adam didn't hesitate, but he stopped just long enough to blow Claire a kiss.

I didn't know what happened, but whatever it was it made Sharpie high tale it out of there, and that was enough to make me want to jump for fucking joy. I watched as the backsides of my teammates as they exited the building; Adam clearly trying to figure out what had happened and Sharp too pissed off to talk. I hoped the door would in fact hit them in the ass on the way out, and chuckled inwardly trying to figure out who I owed my thanks to for getting rid of those two bastards. I turned back toward Claire to see if she had any idea what was going on, but I nearly flew out of my seat as a small woman dressed in pink scrubs snuck up behind me said, "Duncan Keith?" loudly and nearly into my face.

"Whoa, yes. I'm Duncan Keith.”

**** Patrick’s POV

I was walking at warp speed, needing to get out of there as fast as I could, to escape before I laid Duncan Keith flat out. I am her husband. I should be there with her, talking to the doctors comforting her.

“What the fuck was that Sharpie?” The mixture of rage and tears in my eyes seemed to set him back as I stopped and turned to face him. “Jezzuz Christ, what happened in there man?”

“She was lying there sleeping.” I rubbed my hand over my face and through my hair. “She’s so beat up, you don’t want to see her like that man.”

“Is that it? Is that what has you like this? Why the hell did you leave?”

That wasn’t it. I took a deep breath trying to regain my composure and keeping my voice low as I continued. “I just sat there for awhile and watched while she slept, but then she started murmuring in her sleep and she called for me. She said my name Burs...more than once. She said it.” I felt myself getting choked up again and I pushed a sob back down in my throat. “So I went to her and told her I was there, that I’d always be there and that I loved her. Her eyes opened and I swear to God she had a smile on her face, she smiled because she wanted me there and I was. But son of a bitch, it was like a switch turned on, and her smile turned into a scowl. She told me she wasn’t my problem anymore and asked for that back stabbing mother fucker. She told me to go, she wanted to see Duncan.” It was almost more than I could take, reliving her sending me away for that no good lousy bastard. I walked away from Adam needing some space, needing to get my emotions in check, not wanting to lose it in front of my friend.

“She loves you,” he said from behind me and clasped his hand on my shoulder. “She loves you and this isn’t over. Don’t give up man.”

I let his words sink in. She called out for me, that had to mean something. In her heart she wanted me there. This wasn’t over!

****Duncan’s POV

I walked into the room slowly, and caught a glimpse of Lydia lying there broken and battered. I couldn't move at first, taken back by the bandage on her face and the obvious bruising starting to form on her cheek and arms. It made me feel more helpless than I'd felt since I was a scrawny little kid in Winnipeg. Despite the bruising and the bandages, I couldn't help noticing how beautiful she was laying there with her eyes pressed closed and her black hair tucked carefully behind her ears.

I didn't want to disturb her, knowing how important sleep was, especially with a head injury, but I felt a sudden need to be closer to her, to touch her, to hold her. My desire won out and I softly slid a chair next to the bed. I laced my fingers with hers, needing to feel her skin on mine.

Perhaps the best feeling on earth was her fingers tightening around mine. I smiled up at her noticing her stirring. Her eyes opened groggily and came to meet mine. I softly ran my fingers across her cheek, the side without the bruising. Seeing her looking at me with her big brown eyes, she was so battered, my chest seemed to crack in a mix of despair and shame at my utter helplessness having not been able to keep her from the situation in the first place and not having the power to heal her now that it had happened.

Her eyes filled with tears and her fingers tightened as she whispered. “I choose you Duncan.”