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Chapter Text

"It feels almost...peaceful.
The way how the scenes with the fragments of my past memories flash in front of my eyes:the places I used to enjoy staying at,the places I couldn't even be at for ten minutes straight.The same for the people who I meet here: my loved ones,my enemies and Tommy.

I see so much and so little in the same time.I'm watching all the strange and usual phenomenons happening.And I'm feeling almost normal looking at the animals passing nearby without limbs or heads,at the pinkish sky and cotton candy instead of the clouds flying there with the featherless birds.

I like the way the sunlight is falling on the grass underneath my feet - it looks like a scene from the cartoon about the ants I've watched when I was a child.I'm that focused on every green strand that I barely notice how the surrounding changes and I appear to be in the kitchen of my grandmother,in the house she used to live during my school years.Granny's dead now but this knowledge is nothing and I keep chatting with her about the weather while she's taking out the baked soap out of the oven.

Granny is so clumsy!She gets distracted by the sound of the doorbell,lets out the plate,and it falls on the floor.

"Kenny,baby!The pieces of soap are scattered all over the floor.Kneel and savour every piece before the mice will get it,"she says and I follow the order.

I make the first bite and then try to swallow it down my throat not paying attention to the fact that the pieces are full of the mouse fur.

I notice how hot the floor in Granny's house is and then understand that it's just sand of the beach.I look around and notice the big amount of the gigantic fishes instead of people lying on the clothes.Sometimes under umbrellas,sometimes wearing a hat or sunglasses.All of them are rotting under the sun while humans are playing their roles swimming in the sea nearby,absolutely naked.

"Hey,you!"I hear the voice behind my back.After I stand up and face the source of the sound,I understand that it's just Sonny - Sonny Forelli in a cowboy hat and the uniform sheriffs in the country tend to wear.A gun is hanging from the belt of his trousers."Do you know where the "Tommy boy" is?I'm looking for him for a whole day!"

In spite of my confusion,I quickly answer the "sheriff's" question.I even sound confident while saying it:

"You'll find him on the surface of the water,sir!"

And then Sonny runs towards the sea and looks at his face mirroring on the surface.Then he takes off all his clothes including his underwear (fortunately,he's facing me with his back) and then jumps there disappearing under the layers of salty liquid.

I close my eyes and then open it appearing in my office.With a new addition in form of a golden cage with a black crow sitting in it.Such a beautiful and intelligent creature if you ask me.

I try to touch the bars with my fingers but then the crow yells at me with a funny pitched voice:

"CAWWW!!!ROSENBERG!!!GET THE HELL ME OUT OF HERE!!!CAWWW!!!"

I jump from suddenness but then let out a silent giggle - he sounds too "Tommy-like",and it's so hilarious.

"What's wrong,birdie? Don't like to be restrained?"I mock it getting my face close to the bars.The crow nearly pokes my eye out of the socket with its beak but I manage to back off just in time.

"CAWWW!!! DON'T TALK TO ME LIKE THIS,YOU PRICK!!!CAWWW!!!" the crow keeps shouting wiggling with its wings.

It even uses "prick" to describe every emotion it's feeling towards a certain object - definitely Tommy.Interesting,is it also that violent as Tommy is?Oh,it would be nice to introduce them to each other!

"Only because I love you,"I say as I open the door of the cage letting the birdie get out.It doesn't waste any second of the given time and rushes to my face,only to grasp my skin and poke my eye.The claws leave gashes on my cheeks,and the hard beak makes me see the stars as it hits my eye.Of course,I try to resist but does it even have any sense?...

I feel the warmth of the blood streaming down my face when the crow finally manages to secure my opened eye in its mouth and then take it out of the socket.I feel my stomach churning as I finally push the crow away throwing it into the wall.It lets out a painful whine - poor birdie...

Unfortunately,now I have only one eye while the other is tangling on the damaged nerve.I should be grateful to be left with one eye - at least,I can see something with it.Still better than being absolutely blind.

I blink for a few times and then see everything suddenly turning white.The dark silhouette is standing over me and whispering something to the figure standing behind its back.

And then I hear the voice which belongs to the outside world for the first time during my ride in the train of endless delirium:

"What's your name,dear?Do you remember it?"

I weakenedly nod.

"Good...Could you tell it us,please?"

"Ken...Ken Rosenberg...My name is Ken Rosenberg..."

My voice sounds hoarse,I think."

Chapter Text

"06/08/1989

Decided to scribble a few notes to my journal while I'm on a night shift - I have nothing better to do right now.The most of the patients who stay here are relatively stable and don't need constant coddling over them,except the new one...

I wish Jeremy didn't work that hard so I could tell him everything instead of sharing all my worries with the soulless and emotionless piece of paper but I don't want to disturb him during such a hard period of time for our family and fill his head with unimportant information so,since I've got no choice,I have to describe every detail here.

The new patient...He has been a disaster from the first day of his appearance in the walls of the hospital.As I remember,I had already gone home when he arrived,so all the first information about him I found out from my colleagues who'd been present that night.

Paul,the driver of the ambulance I'm friends with,told me that they were sent to Little Haiti - one of the neighbourhoods in Vice City too dangerous even to go through at night - after some woman had found a body near her house and dialled 911 (I can imagine her shock: it's definitely not the most pleasant thing to find in front of your yard in the end of the working day).

Our ER doctor said something that everyone had understood from the first glance at our martyr - he had been violently tortured.The poor one's body was covered with numerous deep wounds and hematomas,his limbs had been broken with something hard and heavy - we detected it looking at the mechanical nature of the damage.And I'm not even talking about his face - of course, we've cleaned and treated it but it's still too far from being normal.

He's so weak to stay conscious.I always see him sleeping.As far as I know,during these days he woke up for 2-3 times and even said something but either too little or too incoherent to build up from it a history how he had ended up like this.During Margaret's shift,he got conscious and even answered at her question what his name was.

His name is Ken.Surname Rosenberg,if Margaret spelled it right.We immediately transferred all the information to the police so they could search him up in their database.Since he had got into the hospital without any documents,his identity remained unknown for some time (typical "John/Jane Doe" type of stuff).

We have to get all the nutrients into his system intravenously since he can't stay awake for more than a minute so a nurse can feed him.When he gets a little bit stronger,we'll start feeding him solid food but for now we don't want to disturb him and cause even more stress.There's a really long and tricky road ahead of him before he heals,and I'm only talking about his physical state.

Jeremy always says that if I don't stop pitying every living creature which has been punished by the destiny I won't last for too long in the hospital but I just can't control what I feel to every patient.

Now I have to go and check on every patient on my floor and Ken included.I'm feeling much better after writing everything down."

...

"06/10/1989

And here I am again,on a night shift with a journal in my hands and even more fears and worries on my mind.

Ken has become my biggest headache during this short period of time...

If it was just about his state (which is, fortunately,stable: it's not getting better but also not worsening),my heart would hurt but at least not that much because he was nobody to me.

Our "Ken Rosenberg" is a pretty big man in the criminal world,as it has appeared to be: he has a law firm in Vice City and works as a lawyer.But that's not the point.

A day later when the report had got to our hands Margaret passed me through her cousin some interesting information: Miles (the cousin) worked as a cop in 86-87 here,then moved to a safer place with his wife and children when the finances finally let him do it.Told that saw him more often than his own reflection in the mirror because of how often he came to the police station when his "clients"(usually not God-fearing men) had got behind the bars.

Miles described him as not the "brightest bulb":his biggest pro in the lawyering craft was mostly his connections (the rumour has it that he has been one of the biggest bootlickers of the Forellis,mafiosos from Liberty City,if I remember it right).

If Ken has really taken a part in some criminal activities,then it explains a lot about the state he is now - to be more correct,the conditions which led to such a result.

I'm feeling ashamed for writing this down about him because I think that nobody should go through anything even slightly similar to what he has experienced but it's hard to deny that he is the one to blame for the end he has faced.

About his condition tho...

Closer to the evening he starts burning up with fever because of an infection which has got into his system through the opened wounds.Dr.Garcia prescribed him some antibiotics tho we both sometimes feel that it's too risky since the poor one's organism has showed itself as a fragile one.

The wounds on the back stopped producing pus but only because they had been treated decently by whoever captured him and had been even covered with some bandages which reduced the contact with bacterias from the outside world.The face is still a tragic picture as the limbs are.And he keeps sleeping or I would rather to describe it as constant lose of consciousness.

I hope he gets better soon tho I'm really worried about all this mafia stuff coming across our family's way - who knows if the perpetrators get offended at us for helping their "enemy",even if we just keep him alive.Who knows what happens in their heads if they've been cruel enough to make a life of a human being - no matter how sinful it was - a living hell?I just don't want any problems but even better I don't want any problems to appear on Jeremy's way because of our curiosity (it killed the cat, didn't it?).

For now, that's all I want to write down."

"06/12/1989

And here I am again but this time at home.Decided that for now I've had enough of night shifts - I want to spend a few nights lying under the blanket and seeing beautiful dreams instead of being a knight in the gates of my patients' peace.

Nothing too special happens in the walls of the hospital.No one has got shot and then has been driven to us by the ambulance so my sleep promises to be absolutely calm and will lack any worry about the ones under my wing.Even Ken got better - surprisingly, he's awake only at night,in the daytime he sleeps as always.After he had successfully drunk a few glasses of water,we tried to give him something light like porridge but then we found him in lying in his own puke.He couldn't even turn over to vomit on the floor so,when Margaret found him,he was covered in the leftovers of the recently given porridge,looking at her with "the eyes of a chicken which is going to be beheaded by its owner",as she said.I don't even know why but I remembered this phrase of hers too well.

Ken often complains about dizziness but,watching his overall health state now,he is rather just malnourished and weak than infected.We suspect that it might be a sign of a brain damage.Dr.Garcia is planning on x-ray next week to determine concussion if it's possible.

I know that recently I've started writing to my journal about this man,a complete stranger to me and my family,more than necessary but this case seems to me too interesting to ignore and treat it as any regular one.I hope that the care we provide for him won't be the reason of our death one day..."

...

"06/15/1989

It seems like our "Dangerous curiosity" club has just got a new member: the receptionist Dusty.She has recently started working in our hospital.Honestly,I haven't talked to her much - Margaret has.She's the head of our community,and no worker who starts working among us can't pass without her chatting with him or her,at least,once.

Dusty's pretty shy and untalkative,as I see.Probably,she has moved to this hellhole recently and hasn't got used to its every minus yet but Margaret still managed to "squeeze out" of her some interesting information about our patient.

A day ago two men came to the hospital and asked about Mr.Rosenberg: if he stays here,how his state is,the possibility of visiting him right in the moment and blah blah blah.

When Margaret asked the girl about the appearances of the "visitors",she described them really dryly and said that the first one had a thick British accent and the second was wearing sunglasses and a suit which cost like her year salary.We've named them "The Beatling"(reference to "The Beatles" - it's the only thing which came to our mind about the UK except tea jokes and the royalty) and "The Cocker" (the expensiveness of his clothes made us think that he's someone either from the government or another underground "mafioso";"mafiosos" mostly spread white gold in Vice City a.c.a "coke",and "coke" itself sounds pretty similar to something between legs ;) ).

Dusty answered all the questions in the way she knew and refused to let them both see Ken - the only ones who are allowed to visit him,as the rules say,are close relatives like mother,father,spouse,etc - not some buddies of his.The men got disappointed but then the Cocker gave his home number,in case we would want to share some good news with them or need him personally to pay the hospital bills and then they disappeared in the sunset.

We don't know certainly who were these men - it's no secret that the patient is tied up to the criminal underworld of our city but it's still unknown if they are his ally or not.I hope that,at least,if they want to massacre him for his "mistakes",they will wait for his discharge and solve all their problems out of the walls of the hospital.

Now I have to check on my floor.I hope that Dusty or anyone out of us and our families will be fine in spite of this story and its consequences."

Chapter Text

"Mr.Vercetti?"a young-looking nurse with blond hair and doe eyes says into the hall where Tommy and Paul are sitting."You've got a permission to come in.Just be aware that the patient is still very sensitive and easily disturbed so try not to make too drastic moves and don't use harsh language towards him."

"Seems like the baby doesn't know that it's his usual state of mind,to be afraid of every sound,"Kent tries to joke standing up and heading to the door of Ken's room but then he notices that Tom remains sitting on the same place."Won't you come in,son?"

"Why should I?I'm his boss - nothing more or less,"Tommy answers looking at the wall in front of him."Just tell me if there's any grey liquid left in the head.That's everything which bothers me right now."

Kent Paul just shrugs with his shoulders,then opens the door and steps in.

...

Ken's room is pretty cozy and light - it's easy to notice that the nurses have put their hands to create the nurturing environment for the patient's healing.

The walls are coloured in a dark tone of yellow,the windows are covered with thin curtains which let the sunlight get in still giving some sense of privacy.A single bulb is hanging from the ceiling, currently turned off due to the daytime.The soft click of the visitor's boots against the laminate makes Ken tense but he quickly recognises an old "friend".

Poor Rosie is looking terrible: he has lost a lot of weight and it makes all the edges of his body even sharper,the tone of his skin has got paler so the bruises seem more prominent.A corpse whose weak bodily functions are being supported by the help of many doctors and nurses.

"You?..."Ken says with his voice creaking.It sounds like gears of a rusty machine which has been turned on after years of neglect.His eyes lazily dart around and then focus on Kent Paul who's standing in front of the hospital bed - hands in pockets,face expression is a mix of feigned confidence and discomfort.

Rosenberg weakly titles his head to the direction where the chair is standing - near the window - and then says:

"Sit.I don't like when someone stands over me.I'm enough with the nurses who coo around like I'm retarded and can't take a shit without their help."

The british quickly complies and falls on the chair leaning on the back.He gives his "friend" a glance full of pity and starts talking:

"I'll be honest with you,pal: you look like a post-overdose hooker who has spent most of the time after her death bloating on the surface of the lake in the country."

"Thanks.Like I don't know it by myself."

Ken tries to be sarcastic but it's not that hard to see how offended he actually gets: with his sensitivity which has become even stronger due to his state,he practically has become his own emotion detector.He can't control every change in his face expression:the way how he nervously bites the swollen bottom lip holding a whine,how his eyes get slightly wet and he hopes to hide it by blinking rapidly.

"Aw...Don't get so emotional right now,"Kent Paul says leaning in and patting Rosie's shoulder."You better tell us who did such a number on ya so we could take a revenge on this prick."

"What do you mean "tell us"?"Us" are you and the devil who whispers some nonsense into your right ear?"Ken gets confused not understanding at first who the british is talking about.

"Me and Tommy.He's sitting outside.Refused to come in - you know him,"the man explains not noticing how wide the lawyer's pupils become,only after such an innocent reference to the mobster Kent Paul has just made.

Ken feels heart pounding faster,ribcage hugging his chest too tightly which causes sharp pain.He tries to swallow saliva down his throat but a lump that appears inside of it makes this process almost impossible - like the muscle spasm during rabies.

Every breath of air feels painful,not only because of Ken having to open his mouth to let it in and out but because of the overall sensation as the air being heated to the temperature which burns up his tongue,cheeks and gums from the inside.

"Are you okay,pal?You don't seem really well...Should I call the baby who's looking after you?"Kent asks gently nudging Rosie's shoulder.

"Don't let him hurt me,please..."Ken squeaks while tears are dropping down his cheeks."I don't want him to hurt me once again...He'll hurt me...He's bad...He always makes me feel bad...Please,help me..."

...

Tommy hears a loud scream full of fear and pain coming from the hospital room and rushes to the door to make a few knocks.

"What the hell are you doing with him there?"the mobster asks gruffly.Thomas doesn't even know that the sound of his voice coming from the outside has just made Ken collapse on the sheets, wildly trembling and crying while his red from tears eyes are darting around the room trying to grasp at the concept of imagine safety the lawyer has just lost.

Chapter Text

The wet sound of puke splashing from Rosie's throat into one of the flower pots placed on the window is ringing in his ears.It doesn't even look like a fluid which has just come out of a human - only slightly milky by the colour with pale blood stains,digested porridge and some puree Ken has been recently fed.

He feels the burning in his mouth and then coughs with the leftovers of vomit.Poor Kenny can't really focus his sight on anything right now - his own hands seem too far from his face and are floating before his eyes.He has to let the flower pot go from his hands,and it falls on the ground shattering to pieces - out of sudden,it's started feeling too heavy to hold,as a giant rock.

"Mr.Rosenberg?Oh,Mr.Rosenberg,why have you stood up?You should have stayed in your bed and wait for me!"the voice of the nurse who has just stormed into the room hearing something breaking seems as a stick hitting the surface of the drum to the lawyer but he doesn't even get irritated.The man has just completed the most important task for today - he's puked to get fed.Nobody except him knows how this thread of actions works...

Ken collapses on the floor with his soul being clear and sinless.

...

Tommy doesn't really like these visits he has to pay to Rosie from time to time: with the lawyer always crying in his presence,there is no real chance to make them anyhow productive.

But the mobster has to talk to Ken,just for the sake of his reputation,because Rosenberg has got too much of knowledge about what...happened.No,he doesn't even have a thought of killing him - not in the hospital,not when the poor one is in such a pathetic state,and,especially,when Thomas still needs a lawyer.He has already got so many problems with the laws and the police of Vice City while Ken is staying here,half-alive and barely sane.At least,as the nurses have told him: no matter what led to such pitiful conditions,his mental state has taken the significant part of the damage..

Dr.Garcia (Tommy can't explain how this snowman has got a spanish surname) mentioned something about "cognitive impairment" - in easier,less medical language,now Rosie has problems with any kind of activity which make him the "Rosenberg he has known for these years of work".It includes memory loss,troubles with decision-making,irrational judgement and weak recognition of the surrounding world - everything caused by the brain injury he has got.And the mobster felt something weakly stirring in his chest when the understanding of "who" was the reason of everything happening had got him.He was the reason.

It wasn't guilt.More of a logical thinking which he hadn't used before due to the rush and anger at the lawyer.Maybe,even a little of comparison to the other situations from Tom's life,especially this one with Sonny.For some reasons,he even finally understood that the boss could have got some proofs of the green and inexperienced Vercetti "switching his side" from the Forelli's one to any other of the crime family's of Liberty City which had been present in this period of time,and it left him no choice but to "slaughter" the young man in the same way a farmer shoot his horse seeing how much it had been hobbling,barely bringing any use to the owner anymore.Although Tommy remained loyal even after getting behind the bars of the jail.

Comparing himself to Sonny Forelli was the last thing Tommy had ever wanted to do,but it seemed pretty obvious that the mobster changed the role of the victim of circumstances to a backstabber similar to the one he had despised.

...Enough with sentiments!In the current moment,Thomas has another task in hand - to talk to Rosie and give him a hint "not to tell anyone too much about what happened to him",especially Kent Paul who is one of his regular visitors.The version with the Haitians holding Ken in hostage for a while and then throwing him away as a form of a warning to the Vercetti crime family seems perfect considering the fact where the lawyer's unconscious form has been found and all the problems tied up to the gang,even after Tommy has become the head of Vice City.Such an interpretation of the events unleashes him completely and lets Tom and his men act openly against them.Yes,it'll be enough.He doesn't even need to pressure Ken into lying - the lawyer already fears him to the point of listening to whatever the mobster says in order not to get hurt once again.

...

Tommy carefully steps into the room after getting the permission to come in.He sees Rosie who looks even worse as the dark-haired man remembers,in spite of the fact that the treatment should cause the opposite effect:less weight,paler skin and thinner hair.The bruises and wounds are less prominent but the lawyer doesn't seem any better because of it.

Ken flinches as Tommy approaches the bed and then pulls up a chair to sit nearby.He's visibly avoiding any type of eye contact with the mobster looking instead at his own hands and on the blanket which is covering his boney frame.

"Good morning.How are you doing?"Tommy starts carelessly.

"Hi..."Ken answers unconfidently.His voice sounds hoarse and somehow high-pitched.The eyes are looking everywhere but not at the mobster.

"Don't worry: I haven't come to hurt you,"Thomas continues,also watching the sunbeam on the windowsill instead of the figure lying in front of him.The nurses were right about the flower pots: their lack on the usual place show that they've really moved them somewhere.But it's not something he wants to talk about with Rosie now - first things come first."If Kent Paul tries to be a hero once again and annoys you with questions about who did it to you,tell him that the Haitians hurt you,okay?"

"I think that he...he has already understood everything,sir...He just doesn't want to a-..."Ken answers after a few seconds of silence but then he suddenly stops.The grip on the cloth tightens like the poor one gets too fearful to continue the phrase.

"Just do what you're told: you're in no position to argue with me,Ken,"the mobster sounds irritated even though he tries to remain cool."If he understands it,it'll be negative to his karma but everything I want you to do for now is to keep saying that your captors were the Haitians,deal?"

The lawyer weakenedly nods.

"Good..."Tommy says leaning to the back of the chair but then his face expression hardens,he crosses his hands on the chest and then continues with a more dissatisfied tone of the voice:"They told me that you'd behaved terribly."

"Huh?"

"Yes,I mean it,Ken: you keep vomiting into the flower pots.Like some sick...cat?I remember my pet cat doing this shit and I would never imagine it being something a successful lawyer who works for me is busy with,"Thomas continues sounding more and more furious."Your doctor says that they have already got this infection out of your system so you definitely do it on purpose.I'll ask you only once: why?"

"...I just...I just wanted them to feed me more,you know?"Ken explains."I don't like either the taste of the hospital food or the process of being fed.I like the fact that they bring me food,and every time I make myself puke I hope that they'll bring me tons of it."

The mobster thinks for a little and then answers:

"Bullshit.It doesn't really look as you want more food,if you ask me from the point of an observer:more like a rebellion against the rules of the hospital stuff.And by the way,you do realize that they can't bring you a bigger portion than the norm set for you to heal properly? Overfeeding is as bad as straight up starving you.They won't ever do it,and you're making everything only worse for yourself.You better stop your "tantrums" if you don't want them to feed you less to make you think twice before asking for more or vomiting as some filthy animal."

Tommy doesn't want to sound cruel or rude - he just tries to explain but then he sees tears in Ken's eyes instead of the epiphany a student has after a teacher explains them something essential and absolutely new.How foolish it is to actually wait from a patient with jelly instead of brain any sparkles of genuine understanding...

"Just don't do this anymore,okay?You only put yourself on a few steps back from the healing,"Tom's voice sounds even gentle in some way though he doesn't really know what kind of reaction this change in the tone can gauge out of Rosie.

They sit in front of each other for some time in compete silence.The only few threads which tie up both men to the reality of current surrounding are the click of shoes against the floor in the hall,the voices of doctors and patients talking behind the wall and the soft humming of the TV in one of the rooms.

"I need to go,"Tommy says,then he stands up and heads to the door, trying not to even look into the lawyer's direction."Don't miss me."

"Bye..."Ken pushes the single word out of himself with pain in face expression as it's been the hardest thing in his life to do.

...

When the mobster is out of the hospital walking down the street,he suddenly understands that actually Ken's action has got some logic,even if it's hidden beneath the layers of the damaged nerve tissues: he's starved for pity,as anyone who has been through something as horrendous as this.Maybe,from the strangers who take care of him but also sometimes get a tired expression written all over their faces with sparkles of sympathy for him,maybe even from him - from "Tommy".It's possible that he wants the man to understand the gravity of the inflicted on him sufferings which had an absolute pointless goal in the end and appeared to be unnecessary.

"Look what it has led me to,Tommy: I do something that disgusting which makes everyone question what kind of nightmare I've been through to choose this way of "self-expression".Are you excited that you're the reason,Tommy?"

Sometimes the victim doesn't want your pity - they want the pity of the main perpetrator,the one who hurt them.

Chapter Text

Ken has always thought that the rain didn't fit Vice City's landscapes.The place associated so deeply in his head with summer trips of low-income families which leave bright moments in the memory of each member can't get so uncomfortable and dirty out of sudden.But the weather hasn't asked his opinion so now,while Rosie's lying under the blanket on white as snow bed sheets with Tommy and Kent Paul sitting on the chairs in front of him,the rain drops are hitting against the glass of the only window in the room.

"The weather is shit,"the British starts,and then continues,staring at Ken:"But you know what's even shittier?Your current state of body and mind,son!And you're going to be discharged from the hospital just in a few days but you're still a total weakling.I swear,with the less knowledge about a human body,comparing to the one these chicks in white robes have,even I could be a better doctor."

Thomas rolls back his eyes but doesn't let himself be distracted from the task of piling skin from the apple with a knife (Rosenberg has recently complained that the skin tasted too bitter).The care for the sick "friend" isn't the only reason why he gets himself busy with such a useless action.It just seems so...relaxing?Even if reminds the gangster the process of removing someone's face (oh those sweet memories of the youth.)

"They'll let Ken out of the hospital but he's going to visit some procedures for a while.His injuries aren't that serious to keep him here,"the dark-haired man patiently explains still focused on the object and the task in his hand.

"And?Won't it be more dangerous for him to leave the care and supervision of the professionals?I have a feeling like you're rushing everything just to make the poor lad work at you again,"Kent Paul answers sounding frustrated.

"What awakened your strong maternal feeling towards Rosie,prick?"Tommy barks.It's easy to hear the growing irritation in his voice by such a unnecessary,according to his opinion,fuss."I don't remember you being so caring in any point of your disabled friendship.Your concern about Ken's being usually ended when he paid for whatever crap you had given him to sniff."

The verbal fight ends at this point,though the tension stays in the air of the room among all of them.

Ken mostly keeps silence.His reddened eyes are darting around with the intensity of a frightened animal,his gaze never stays at Tommy's figure for more than a few seconds.The symphony of rain drops hitting with their little weight the thick surface of the glass doesn't catch his attention that bad but it seems to be the only thing which can help him dissociate from the current surrounding without questions.He's just looking at the grey sky and grumpy clouds,nothing too interesting,right?

The man hears Tommy and Kent Paul arguing about something again.The words are floating in front of his mind but don't reach it.But then there goes a direct question to him which comes from Tom's mouth:

"Earth to Rosie,earth to Rosie!Will you move to my villa for a bit?Before you heal completely,of course.Kent Paul is worried about you dying without someone's supervision."

"Hey!I didn't say it,"the British answers feeling embarrassed."I just wonder that,maybe,it's not safe to let Ken alone now..."

"And what's the problem with my suggestion?If he needs supervision,then who can provide it better than me?"Tommy argues,leaning on the back of the chair and crossing his hands.The face expression written on his face destroys any will to argue with the made decision in Kent Paul but not in Rosie whose fear becomes the wall between his understanding of how dangerous the man in front of him is and basic need in safety.The way Ken's eyes get swollen with tears,his chin shakes and whine escapes the chest tells more than any words how simple his mind and the construction of the world in it have become.

The lawyer doesn't understand the necessity to control his negative emotions in presence of the one who is the cause of his current state.He doesn't remember how short-tempered Tommy is and how furious the gangster can become from the sight of his tears.The poor one is just disappointed by the force used to make him stay in the same apartment with Tommy in the future.He is afraid but only as a child who still has a hope to escape the punishment by just crying in front of mommy and making her regret being so harsh with him this way.

"The hell are you crying about,Ken?"Tom gets annoyed but lowers his voice instinctively."It'll be better for all of us if you stay under my wing.Your brain is a worse slop than it has been before and I'm just going to look after you.When you get better, you'll be back to sitting in Malibu club and sniffing lines.It's not like I'm giving you a life sentence..."

"I don't want to go with you,sir...Please,leave me alone...I can be strong enough to be left alone...Please,sir..."Rosie continues crying,covering his face with palms.Tears are streaming down the poor man's face making it bright red as it's been boiled.When Tommy visited him,he had to tolerate his presence through the layers of fear for his life but then the lawyer had been always freed when the butcher left.What will it be when they're under the same roof which belongs to the man who has tortured him?What rules will the gangster set?How is it going to feel,to eat from the plates which belong to the one whose hand has hurt him?

"Are you sure that you want to wipe Rosie's ass for a few next months,son?"Kent Paul asks looking at Tommy with the eyes of the person who knows the truth but plays along.The British has never been a complete fool,even if he seemed absolutely unserious.In spite of all the fairytales the Italian started telling the family after Rosenberg's state had stopped being a secret,he understood everything that had happened.He's chosen to be silent in order not to get into troubles with the psycho like Tom.

"What are you trying to prove with your actions,son?That you're innocent?But you do realize that it won't work on me?I know what you've done - I'm just not showing you it,"the sight of his eyes are telling.

But Tommy doesn't want to prove anything to anyone with the care he tries to provide for Rosie.Anything to anyone but himself.

But what?That he feels guilty so instead of throwing a useless tool he has broken away he tries to fix it so hard?Absolutely not.At least,it's not something even close to guilt.More of a try to be better than the one who has started the tradition of betrayal in the first place.Better than Sonny.

The bastard never accepted the fact that he had tried to kill Tommy because of the heard at the train station rumours which didn't even appear to be true in the end.The apology he had shown through giving the young Vercetti the best lawyers during the trials,soliciting in the court about setting the minimal term which was even possible in this situation seemed more of a mockery than an act of genuine remorse - he still spent nearly half of his life behind the bars because of the old fucker's mistake.

But Thomas will be better than this - he won't toss Rosie away like he doesn't have any need of his figure and skills in the criminal underworld anymore.He won't forget about the lawyer's existence for a long period of time,just to pick him up from a dusty shelf and use unceremoniously when the time comes.

Tommy knows that he won't ever pity Rosie as a normal human being but the gangster will always understand the situation they both have been through.Even if Tom isn't the victim of the circumstances anymore but the backstabber himself.

When Rosenberg starts having a full blown panic attack,screaming loudly,pushing away all the nurses while they're trying to insert a needle with sedative into his vein,Thomas understands that he won't ever be truly mad at any tantrums the prick lets himself show.It seems like the way he would behave if he was that weak as Ken is.Their only difference is hidden in the fact,that the lawyer won't think of any kind of revenge to Tommy for his actions.

Chapter Text

Tommy's jeep suddenly stops in front of the mansion,making everyone on the back nearly fall to the floor.

"Easy,son,easy!Do you want to reduce to zero all the efforts the chicks in white robes have put into Ken?! You're going to kill the poor one before he even moves to your residence!"Kent Paul shouts at the gangster,appearing behind his seat.

"Rosie's not made of glass,you prick!"Thomas barks,squeezing the steering wheel in hands.

"Bones are also fragile enough to break if you keep driving like this!"the British argues.

"YOU BOTH,SHUT THE FUCK UP! I'M HAVING A MIGRAINE,"Ken screams,covering his head with palms.Such a useless fuss made from nothing.And the fuckers don't worry about distressing him,as much as they don't give a shit about his overall state (at least,it seems to Rosie like this).Rosenberg despises them both on the same level while the sharp pain is going through his skull,breaking it with the intensity of a hammer crushing a porcelain vase.

...

"Rosie,come on,stop flying in the clouds!"Tom's voice suddenly appears over Rosie's ear,and then a muscular arm carelessly takes him out of the car like a bag of potatoes.

"Are you fucking kidding me?..."is the first thought in the lawyer's mind when he sees the building where they've stopped - el swanko casa.Wide,with strong beams holding the central canopy and a pool in the yard - the house where the poor one has spent the worst days of his life.He stays on the same place on the ground,like a statue,not being able to move even slightly with his finger.Fear and anger are filling up his vines with boiling blood.

"I don't have time for this bullshit,"Tommy hisses and then starts dragging Ken by the hand along the path to the mansion.Kent Paul is trudging behind them,carrying almost modest amount of bags with clothes which belong to Rosie,with a face expression like he's accompanying his friend to the death penalty.

At first,Rosenberg tries to weakly protest but the memories spent in the basement under Tommy's "supervision" flash in his mind and surprisingly make him pliant.

Thomas takes out the keys from the pocket,gets the tip into the lock,turns it around and opens the door to the hellhole Ken has managed to escape not really long time ago...

The weather is nice: the sky is blue and cloudless,the sun is shining on the top spot,the wind is blowing in a manner of a hand fan so it's kind of satisfying to stand outside but the day is still shit.

...

"Make yourself at home,Rosie,"Tommy says,gently nudging the lawyer forward,to the inside.Then the man turns to Kent Paul who's stopped behind them and blesses the unlucky British with his attention:"Hey,you,idiot!Stop staring at me like a deer in headlights and put the bags somewhere: either I or he will unpack it later," - he points at Rosenberg.

On the periphery of his mind,Ken hears both men shouting at each other once again - the gangster is mad at Kent Paul for his slowness while the poor British tries to protect his dignity and the right to not to be called "retarded" by Tommy just because he doesn't know where to put the bags better.

"Get them on the sofa,prick!No,not at the red one!Don't you see that it's too small for all the bags?One will eventually fall,and I mind you that there are glass jars with medicine inside.Just put them on the bigger sofa,cocksucker,not on the floor - it's dirty!And not that harshly - I swear,if you break something,your entire bloodline till children of your grandchildren will pay!"

But does Rosie even care?His attention is fully gifted to the paleness of the white walls the living room has,to the darkness of the linoleum.The room doesn't seem as the one he has remembered during relatively peaceful stays in Tommy's apartment before the accident: the colours have faded away.But only in this room?Maybe the world also has lost all the bright shades?

...

"Beep-beep,Rosie!Are you even here with us today?"the same voice appears above the lawyer's ear.The sudden sound's existence in his world is comparable to the feeling of being taken out from a really warm blanket you've been feeling safe under."Hungry?I'll order something for us from the nearest restaurant."

"Hey,I have to go!You see,I'm having a meetup with Jezz,Percy,Willy and Dick soon-..."Kent Paul protests but then gets interrupted in the middle of the sentence by Vercetti.

"And who said that I'm going to feed you,you victim of back-alley abortion?"Us" are me and Ken.You've completed your task of a low-price porter,now make me look for you."

Thomas points at the front door.His hint is as crystal clear as water in a holy spring.

"No need to be so rude,son..."Kent Paul hisses, heading to the exit looking pretty offended.

"And no need to think that I'm some hospitaller who will feed and protect all the poor and crippled.Go away already,"the gangster replies,following the man behind to close the door after him.

When Kent Paul disappears from Rosie's view completely,he finally understands how scary the perspective of staying with Tommy in the same house without the third person actually is.He wishes the British would return,just for a few minutes.It's too frightening to even look into the gangster's direction now...

...

Rosenberg starts catching himself at the thought of trying to fill the gaps in his memory:the man remembers when Kent has left,and that now they're sitting at the table,hungrily devouring freshly cooked and delivered to them courses.Something definitely has happened in this period of time because they both have changed their outfits to the less formal and more comfortable ones,one out of the two has unpacked the bags,making them look like gutted corpses,and then carefully put in the hall to wait for the better times ahead.But the problem is that he barely remembers anything out of what has been done,like he's suddenly woken up and all the memories are floating in front of his eyes including the made earlier decisions and actions but in a form of a dream you quickly forget throughout the day.

"Ugh...I hope you like the food?"Tommy asks,as if the look of Rosie hungrily wiping off everything from the plate to his throat doesn't answer the question.Maybe,the gangster has no need in hearing any reply at all - he just tries to break the silence between them with the sound of the pronounced words.

"Yefff,"the lawyer answers with his mouth full of boiled vegetables and fish.Thomas remembers Rosenberg being always extremely picky when it came to choosing dishes at restaurants but now he's a vacuum cleaner,and food of any kind disappear behind his teeth,to find the way out later,probably,if the organism gives up and the man pukes every piece back.

The doc's told the gangster to not overfeed him either,so when Rosie tries to prey another shrimp from Tommy's plate,he has no choice but to stop this nonsense:

"Ken,KEN!I understand everything but stop.You've eaten enough already,okay?I'm letting you eat even more than your doctor has allowed and you're stepping over even this line.KEN, IT'S NOT THE LAST TIME WHEN YOU EAT!"Tom shouts loudly,fighting over his own food.

Rosie stops for a moment but then his eyes swell with tears.The Italian sighs loudly.

"Do you even realize that you're hurting yourself,Rosie?I haven't ordered the whole table for you to eat it in a half an hour.Make a pause..."

And in spite of the fog which envelopes Ken's mind,he understands the paradox of the man who has hurt his body and mind to the current state now trying to take care of him.Nurturing him back to health when in the same time he's the bastard who has taken it away from the poor lawyer.

...