"And the forest animals all learned something that day." Nate smiled down at Desmond as they went to cross the street.

Ever since Bronev's arrest, Desmond's mood had slowly began to perk up. Not as well as it would have been if Raymond was still with them, but his mood had improved nonetheless. It had improved to the point where he could leave the house now without suffering from a panic attack. Honestly, Nate couldn't be happier. Desmond was finally starting to smile again, not the empty, hollow ones -- not the wide ones that he had given when Nate had wanted him to stay in the realm of reality. They were genuine smiles.

"What was it?" Desmond pushed his glasses up his nose, his eyes glinting. There was a car heading their way; he knew that they would stop.

"You shouldn't judge a buck by it's mo --" Desmond had fallen slightly behind in crossing the street, so Nate didn't see why Des had fallen silent. He paused for a moment, feeling dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. The sound of a car door opening and closing rang loud in Nate's ears before he actually turned around.

"Oh, oh my God --" The person was kneeling next to a crumpled figure on the pavement, and Nate couldn't register that the figure was Des. His mind simply rejected the notion. That couldn't be Des, he was just -- he was just with him a few moments ago.

He didn't know he had moved until he had kneeled next to the broken figure, a loud scream hitting his ears. It took him a moment to realize that it was his -- he was screaming, his body shaking. His mind was racing, going numb. He brushed Des's hair out of his face with a shaky hand.

So -- so much blood --

The asphalt had given Desmond road rash, the skin on his face and arms abrased, bleeding. His leg -- was it supposed to bend that way?

How fast was that asshole going?

"Oh, my God, are you --"

"Stay away from him --!" His eyes snapped over to the man who had hit Des. The man stepped back, holding his hands up.

"Look, man, I didn't see him, I swear!"

"How did you not see him?" Tears were streaming down Nate's face. "How did you not see him, you were a good distance away when we started crossing the road."

"I didn't see him, I was --"

"You were what, exactly?" Nate was going into shock at what just happened, his anger rising in his panic. "What was so damned important that you didn't notice a pedestrian?"

"I -- I --" Nate turned back to Des's motionless body. "Has -- has somebody called the police yet?" The man blanched.

"W-Wh --"

"He's dying, you asshole. Call the fucking police!" The man took several steps back, then turned on his heel and started running towards a phone box. Nate knew better than to try and move Desmond -- he knew that doing that could cause more damage.

But how could he not do anything? He pressed two fingers to Des's throat, looked for breathing. Desmond's heart was fluttering, pounding weakly. His breathing was weak and shuddery, barely noticeable.

So much blood….

Nate felt rather than saw the crowd that had formed around them. He couldn't care less about the questions directed at him, asking if he was okay.

They should be more worried about Desmond.

The bloodied man wasn't moving, yet Nate saw when his eyes opened slowly. He leaned down to Des's face, wiping blood away. The red eyes were hazy, clouded, and still they flashed in recognition at Nate's worried face.

"N --" His voice was weak, light. He winced, a small, weak groan of pain slipping past his lips.

"Sh-h-h… it's going to be okay now. There's an ambulance on the way. Just don't try to strain yourself. You're going to be okay." Nate's tone was quiet, hurried, the words leaving him in a single exhale. Desmond gave a weak smile, and one of his hands twitched. Nate grabbed it gently, holding the limp, bloody limb. "I promise, you'll be okay."

"N --" Desmond inhaled in a shuddery voice. "I -- lo--ve you --"

Nate quickly shushed him again. "I love you too. Just rest. Save your energy for when you get better, okay?"

Desmond nodded again, then his chest spasmed, a weak cough leaving his throat. A small dribble of blood streaked from his mouth to the pavement. He closed his eyes.

"Can't -- d--ie --"

"You won't die. You won't die." Nate could hear the sounds of sirens approaching quickly. Des looked at him.

"They w-won't le--t yo--you see me."

"I'm sure they will. I'm sure." Nate reached into his pocket, pulled out a box. Des's eyes snapped to it, then to him. "I love you so much." Desmond smiled again, teeth red as Nate opened the box.

"Na --"

"Once you get better, will you marry me?" Des's eyes grew hazier, this time from tears.

"Ye -- Yes." Nate slipped the simple band from the box to Des's finger, wiping blood from Des's mouth as he kissed him.

Paramedics pushed through the crowd in that moment, kneeling next to Desmond and Nate with a gurney.

"What is your name?"

"Nate."

"What is this man's name?"

"Desmond Sycamore." The paramedics just nodded, scooping him up carefully and placing Des on the gurney.

"What are your relations to him?"

"Fiancee." The paramedics looked at each other, then nodded.

"Come with us." Nate nodded, his heart pounding as he reached for Desmond's hand again.

"Hey --"

"No, he's fine. Let him do that."

"But --"

"Imagine if this was you." The paramedics looked at each other for a moment before they started wheeling Desmond to the ambulance. "Look, he needs this moment."

"I -- I guess you're right." They lifted Des into the vehicle. They looked back at Nate.

"Does he have any other family?"

"Just his brother. Everyone else is gone." Bronev was still alive. He wouldn't let them know that, however.

"Who is his brother?"

"Hershel Layton."

"Can you bring him to the hospital?" Nate's stomach dropped. Layton -- he was -- he was teaching, he --

"I -- I can."

"Meet us there. We promise we'll keep him with us." Nate nodded.