Healing

By Tiriel

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Ed/Bud

Warnings: nothing to see here, folks, move along.

Disclaimer: The characters of this story don't belong to me...they came from the mind of James Ellroy, then got some modifications for the film from the minds of Curtis Hanson and Brian Helgeland...I promise to take care of them and put them back when I'm done. Please don't sue me, all I have are student loans.

Spoilers: Takes place late-film. Spoilers.

Summary: Missing scenes from the film, between the Victory shootout and the awards ceremony.

Thanks to Aithine, whose fault this is, and to Little Miss S, for making me add a couple of lines.

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Healing

by Tiriel

Two days after the shootout at the Victory Motel, Ed Exley found himself hesitating at a doorway. After all he'd faced, all he'd seen and done, it was strange that he should be scared of this. But he was. *Be a cop, Ed. You're in control,* he thought. He straightened up, pulled open the door, and strode in like he would if it were an interrogation room, letting the door swing closed behind.

Bud White lay on the hospital bed, watching his visitor approach. His face was pale, the parts of it that weren't covered in bandages. His left arm, like Ed's, was in a sling, and his chest was bandaged. An IV tube was connected to his right arm.

Ed stopped at the foot of the bed. When he spoke, his tone was chilly, brusque. "So, you really are alive. They told me, but I had to see for myself. One in the shoulder," he looked down at his own injured arm before continuing, "one in the chest, just missed the lung I hear, and one through the face. Bet that exit wound's an ugly one. It sure looked bad the other night." He glanced away for a second, as if he'd said something he shouldn't have. "I guess you're just too tough to kill. You figure I owe you something? Well, you're wrong. You owe me. I got us a deal."

Bud didn't react. Ed continued. "Here's the way this works, White. You get your pension, I get another medal. In return, we stay silent about Dudley. He's dead, so it doesn't matter anyway whether the press makes him out as a hero or a villain."

This time there was a long pause as Ed waited for some kind of reaction from Bud. He didn't get one. "I know you can't talk, but the doctor said you wouldn't be too doped up to understand me. I need to know that you'll play ball. You can nod, can't you?"

Bud nodded.

"So you'll play ball?"

Bud nodded again.

"Good. You may have saved my life, but I've saved our reputations. It's this or have us both hung out to dry as dirty cops. Don't think I wouldn't throw them you to save myself if I had to. So stick to the deal. Dudley Smith died a hero."

Bud glared at Ed, but nodded again, slowly.

"Good. Now that we've settled that, I'd better go. Has Lynn been here yet?"

Bud shook his head.

"I'll see if I can track her down. There's a guard on your door in case any of Dudley's men come for payback. I somehow doubt his people would be that loyal, right now if there is anyone left they're probably too busy covering their own asses to worry about us, but it was the Chief's idea. I think he wants to keep an eye on both of us for a while. I'll get her put on the visitor's list, make sure they let her in."

Bud shook his head, more vigorously this time.

"Don't want to see her yet? Fine. I'll at least let her know you're alive. More or less." His mouth twisted into a shark's smile. "I'll leave you to get some beauty sleep. You look like hell." Ed turned and walked purposefully out of the room without looking back.

XXX

Just under a week later, Ed stood over Bud's hospital bed, watching him sleep. He had more color now, and was slightly less covered in bandages. Ed dropped a small sheaf of paper onto Bud's stomach. Bud's eyes snapped open.

"Here. This is my official report on what happened at the Victory. So if anyone asks, you know how it *really* went."

Bud picked up the papers with his right hand and set them down on the bedside table without a glance.

"I'll come back when you've had time to read it and tell you the whole story. I do owe you that much."

Bud's gaze remained level, slightly hazy from pain medication. Ed was filled with the sudden urge to make him react, like a child poking into a turtle's shell with a stick to see if it's still alive.

"I talked to Lynn. She wants to see you."

There it was. The flicker of Bud's eyes as he quickly looked away. Just over a week ago, he'd suddenly found himself able to read every nuance of Bud's eyes. It felt somehow right to know that the skill, the connection, hadn't ended with the case.

"Okay." He heard his voice soften, like something inside of him had melted. "I'll let her know that you're not ready."

Bud's eyes changed, just a little, but Ed knew what it meant.

"You're welcome." He turned and walked toward the door. Halfway there, he paused. "I still owe you an apology. I told Dudley once that you were a mindless thug. I said a lot of things about you, and about Stensland. I'm sorry about that, and about him. He was dirty, but he was your partner. I never understood what that meant, not until Jack died and then I thought you had, too." He cleared his throat and walked the rest of the way out of the room.

XXX

For Bud, time passed either very slowly or very quickly as he drifted in and out of his doped haze.

*Goddamn doctors and their fucking painkillers. Exley must've timed his visits around the doses.*

*Goddamn Dudley and his fucking plans. Cost a lot of good men their lives.*

*Goddamn Exley and his fucking politics. That's all he gives a shit about.*

*Goddamn me. I'm a fucking brute, just like...*

XXX

When Ed returned, Bud's eyes were clear and he was propped up slightly in the bed. The doctor said he'd be able to leave the hospital soon, if he had someone to help him at home.

"You had a chance to look at my report?"

Bud nodded and looked over at a chair that was in the corner of the room. Ed pulled it over next to the bed and sat down.

"I'm not sure where I should begin. After I spoke with Lynn, I got a call on the radio from Dispatch. The message, as I'm sure you know, was that you wanted me to meet you at the Victory. You know what happened next. I can't help thinking that after the way he played us against each other, Dudley must have been surprised to see us team up like we did. Then I saw you go down."

Bud cocked his head a little and made a stabbing gesture.

"No, I wasn't stalling Dudley on purpose. I thought you were dead and that I was about to be. The whole Rollo thing was just what was on my mind. Lucky break that it interested him enough to slow him down, and that you were able to stab him. But you don't know the story on that, do you? I never got the chance to explain."

Bud shook his head.

"Rollo Tomasi was how I knew Dudley was the one who'd killed Jack. You said at the Victory that my father died in the line of duty, but do you know the whole story?"

Again Bud shook his head.

"He was off duty, actually, and unarmed. He tried to catch a purse snatcher and was shot six times. They never found the guy, never even knew his name. I was 14. I made up a name for him, for the man who'd killed my father. To give him some personality. To give me something to hate. Rollo Tomasi. I would think about becoming a cop, tracking down Rollo and everybody else who thought they could hurt people and get away with it. I wanted to fight for justice."

Ed stared off into space, lost in his thoughts for a moment. "Eventually, that got left behind and all I cared about was glory, about making a name for myself that was separate from and bigger than my father's. It wasn't until Inez, the rape victim, told me that she'd lied in her statement and I realized that the Nite Owl case hadn't been solved after all that it came back to me. I'd never told a soul about Rollo, except Jack. If I'd been there..."

He shook himself and continued. "After the briefing where Dudley told us about Jack's death, he called me aside and asked if I knew anything about an 'associate' of Jack's named Rollo Tomasi. I knew immediately what it meant. Jack must have said the name before he died--I don't know if he was trying to send a message or if he just realized, like I did when I thought I was about to die, that Dudley was one of the ones who got away with it. That's what I was talking about when you stabbed Dudley and he shot you again." Ed trailed off, looking down.

"I grabbed a gun while his attention was on you, got the drop on him. He asked me if I was going to shoot him or arrest him. At that point, I was planning on arresting him. He told me that if we did things his way, they'd make me Chief of Detectives, and we walked out of the room as the sirens of the local cops began to approach. I kept the gun on him. He stepped around you like you were garbage. I looked down at you as I followed, and something happened. I saw you lying there, dead, or so I thought, and I thought of Jack, and for the first time I understood how someone's death could feel like justice. I wanted him dead." He paused, smiled tightly.

"Dudley used to have this set of questions he'd ask me sometimes, trying to convince me to either do things his way or give up on the idea of being a detective. Would I plant evidence, would I beat a confession out of a suspect, that kind of thing. The last one was always 'Would you be willing to shoot a hardened criminal in the back in order to offset the chance that some lawyer would get him back out on the street?' I always answered no to all of them. But I shot him in the back when we got outside. He finally got the answer he wanted." He chuckled. Bud's eyes sparkled with laughter and he huffed an exhale through his nose.

"They brought four cars. Whoever called it in must have thought a war was being fought. I identified myself. They held me for a while, then I wound up in an interrogation room with--get this--Ellis Loew and Chief Parker on the other side of the glass. I told them the whole truth." A smug grin crept across Ed's face. "I wish I could've seen their faces when I told them about Dudley."

One corner of Bud's mouth quirked up into a quick half-smile.

"I knew you were alive, but I somehow couldn't believe it until I saw you here. I kept seeing you on that floor, bleeding. I thought you were dead. I thought I'd be laughed at when I demanded medical attention for you first thing." Ed sat back in the chair, looked up at the ceiling, his grin gone. "It's strange, isn't it? It was like we hated each other one minute, you were going to kill me, in fact, and the next you were saving my life. I haven't thanked you for that. Before I knew you were going to pull through, I kept thinking about how you looked when you pushed me out of Dudley's line of fire. The look on your face. I saw that look, the last jerk of your body when he shot you for the third time, and the way you looked lying there on the floor, images cycling over and over through my head. I didn't kill Dudley for Jack. I thought you were dead and I--"

Ed stopped suddenly and sat up straight in the chair. "Thanks for the push." He stood and shoved his chair back. The room suddenly felt small. His intention was to make a hasty exit, maybe drop a chilly comment on his way out about Bud sticking to the deal or something. Things didn't work according to plan. As he started to turn away, his good arm was unexpectedly immobilized, his wrist caught in an iron grip. He looked down at Bud's hand, then moved his eyes up slowly, following Bud's arm to his shoulder, shoulder to neck, neck to head, finally focusing on the eyes. The greenish blue eyes that held something that just wasn't possible. Desire. He swallowed hard. He'd almost forgotten. Just like he could read Bud, Bud could read him. And Bud knew, just as certainly as if Ed had finished the sentence rather than cutting himself off.

The grip on Ed's wrist was just short of bruising. Bud used that grip to pull Ed's hand closer and down, placing it on a bulge in the sheet that was his hard--but that wasn't possible either except that it was--his hard cock. The impossible continued to happen as Ed felt himself grow hard in response. Off-balance, he pitched forward, and it was like diving from a great height into very cold water--a sudden shock of reality that took his breath away and nearly knocked him to the ground. His other arm slipped involuntarily from the sling as he tried to catch himself, his hand landing next to Bud's neck. He felt a jolt of pain in his shoulder as his arm buckled, and he found himself eye to eye with Bud, shakily supported by his bent left arm while his right was still in Bud's grip. So close. Close enough to kiss.

His mouth opened, breathing coming hard. His eyes and Bud's carried on their own conversation. Then the last impossible thing happened. He began to move his hand. Not away, but in slow circles. Bud hissed and released his grip. When Ed stopped, a low groan came from Bud's throat. Ed moved his hand up to the edge of the sheet, then under it. He slid his hand into Bud's pajama bottoms, touching the hot flesh inside. Smooth, so smooth. Bud's hand on his arm had been rough, but the skin of his erection was smooth.

They had one good set of arms between them, and bruises and bullet wounds to navigate around, but the look in Bud's eyes urged him on. Ed began to stroke, resting more comfortably on his elbow and forearm now, his face still hovering just above Bud's. There was no doubt, no question in his mind. He ran his thumb over the tip of Bud's penis, rubbing the drop of wetness he found there into the skin.

Bud's eyes squeezed shut, his breath coming fast and shallow through his nose. He moaned once, softly, and began to thrust his hips up, fucking Ed's fist. It was the same and yet different from touching himself, and at the same time, it almost felt like he *was* touching himself. Bud's hips stopped moving, and his eyes opened, looking up at Ed as he came, semen pulsing out onto Ed's hand and his own stomach.

Ed pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped off his hand, then Bud's stomach and penis. For the first time, he let himself look at Bud's body, acknowledge the differences between them. He pulled the sheet back up and started to move away, but again felt Bud's grip on his arm. Their eyes met again, and he understood.

He stepped closer and leaned forward again, bracing himself on the bed. Bud released his arm and reached for his zipper. Ed moved to help, and his cock sprang free into Bud's hand. And it felt good, better than anything. Ed closed his eyes as Bud ran his fingers across his flesh. He felt Bud pull back his hand, and he opened his eyes. Bud reached up and touched Ed's lips with a gentle pressure. Ed parted his lips and took two of Bud's fingers into his mouth, sucking gently. Then he released them and took in the other two, giving them a gentle nip before releasing them. After holding up his palm for Ed to lick, Bud moved his hand back to Ed's cock. His slick fingers curled around it and began to slide up and down the shaft. Ed heard rather than felt his own gasp. A shiver of pleasure ran through him.

Ed had been close to the edge just from touching Bud. He knew that it wouldn't take much more of Bud's attentions, but wanted it to go on forever. "Bud," he said softly, and dropped a gentle kiss on Bud's lips, mindful of his injuries. Then he gritted his teeth and his neck arched, pulling his face away from Bud's as he came. After a deep, shuddering breath, he reached for his handkerchief again to clean off first Bud's hand, then himself. Straightening up, with no interference this time, he tucked his cock back into his pants and restored his clothing to order. Finally, he put his arm back into the sling.

Bud looked up into Ed's eyes, and Ed nodded. "Yeah," he said, and patted Bud's good shoulder. "I know." He smiled. Then he turned and left.

When he got home, he called Lynn. He wasn't sure whether it was the most noble thing he'd ever done, or the most cowardly.

"He wants to see you, Lynn. Get him out of this city. There are too many bad memories here, for both of you."

He didn't return to the hospital, and he didn't expect to see Bud again. Lynn's appearance at the awards ceremony was a surprise. The news that Bud was going with her to Arizona wasn't. He'd known when he sent her to the hospital that this was how it would end.

On the way out to the car, Lynn looked up at him and smiled. "Maybe you can come visit after a while. I think he'd like that."

"Sure," he said and smiled back, even though they both knew that he wouldn't.

Ed wasn't sure what he'd expected to feel when he got to the car and saw Bud. But somehow, it was all right. It was good. A silent joke about the difference in the severity of their injuries and then one more message delivered only by an exchange of looks. Bud understood why. He understood everything. With one last handclasp, it was done. Ed stood in the street and watched as Bud's head got smaller and smaller in the car's rear windshield, and eventually disappeared completely from his view.

The End.

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