Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my show, etc. I just wish they would admit their love for each other.
A/N: For Dave, who inspired this whole thing. And the Nip/Tuck people for showing me that they really do belong together.
How did he know? How did that fucking bastard know that he could have taken away your business, your wife, your kids, your house, or even your own life and as pissed off or as tragically hurt as you would have been, it would have been nothing. It would have been nothing compared to taking away the one thing that meant more to you than your own flesh and blood. And, the part that made you stay up nights thinking about what kind of fucking idiot you were, was that you would have never noticed. Lived your whole life, day by day by fucking day and taken him for granted. It just gnawed at your insides until they bled life and death through you:
How did he know before you did?
It's funny how things like that work out. Ironic, almost.
The scent of the room is all too familiar. It smells sterile, and of unhappiness and fragile souls. But it also smells of him, of Christian, that deep musky aroma that all of the hospital antibacterials in the world couldn't drown out. You'd thought about it before, how the scent was never a happy one but one of insecurities, loneliness, and a longing to love and be loved. God, that's all he wanted, and you weren't sure if you were the only one who could see that. Because that's what everyone wants, right?
You thought you had found that. You thought you'd found it in a pretty, spunky college blonde with the same aspirations as you and the willingness to give up her dreams to raise your children and have a family and a beautiful home in the suburbs with a white picket fence...But why are the things that you think are so right turn out to be so wrong? It wasn't Julia. Sure, you loved her, and you wouldn't be where you were today without her, but she just wasn't Christian. God, she just wasn't, and it took you too many years to realise that. She could hold a knife to your throat and you would beg for your life with every last breath, but if he did the same you would tell him that he was welcome to use your bathroom to clean up afterwards.
You smiled a little, a teary smile, as you ran your fingers through his hair to the rhythmic beeping of monitors upon monitors. Like a child, so peaceful. Your other hand was entwined in his; gripping, holding on with every ounce of physical and emotional strength that you had left.
(Hold on, Christian, just hold on...for me...we can get through this, all right? We're partners, and partners...they stick together. Christian...God, I'm sorry, so sorry, for everything. Everything I've ever done to you that hurt you, I'd give anything in the world take it all back if I could. I'm...sorry, Christian. God, Christian, I...love you. Don't leave me...)
You've never said that to him before. It just never seemed...necessary. And until now, you'd never thought of him as someone you couldn't spend a day without thinking of or worrying about. But now, you realised that he needed to hear those words, he had to hear those words, and so did you. Maybe it takes actually saying them to believe them or to understand them or to be able to live them.
And you feel so damn alone, so damn alone, next to him, his breathing lulling your mind into a state of something in between shock and fear. But you weren't alone, not at all. You'll never be alone, not as long as you have him. He's all you need...all you need to live, breathe, laugh, die...You've been looking so hard for that; too hard, maybe, for all your life. But he was right in front of you the whole damn time, and better late than never, right?
You lean into him, slightly, afraid of him waking up but still wanting him to at the same time, and you softly brush a wayward strand of hair out of his face and place a small feathery kiss on his forehead. Never done that before, either, but the littlest things mean the most.