As he limps miserably to the door, Mario can't help but think that he should have stayed in bed, because it had been fairly obvious from pretty much the second he got up that the universe was out to get him. He'd been jarred from sleep by the mournful chirping of his dying fire alarm, and stubbed his little toe on the doorjamb on his way to disembowel it. Now his toe is purple and swollen and he really hopes it's not broken (though if it is he sure as hell isn't going to let anyone at Angel's know about it).
He pours himself a coffee and makes it out of his place just in time to see a massive limb fall from a tree-courtesy of the surprise storm that's sweeping the city, no doubt-and onto his car, crunching its hood and reducing the front windshield to a mess of broken glass with a tremendous crash. He stares in rather undignified horror for a long moment before letting out a string of profanities that would make a sailor blush. He decides he's going to have to take the bus, which is just perfect, since it means he's going to have to walk to and from bus stops on the one day it's raining.
By the time he gets to the nearest bus stop and the bus comes, his clothes are soaked through and his hair is dripping and, for maybe the first time in his Californian life, he's shivering. He hands the driver a wad of damp bills and sits in the seat closest to the door. He spends the entirety of the bus ride staring out of the bus window at the gray sky and the rain and the wind, brooding on his terrible luck. As the bus pulls up to the stop nearest Angel's, Mario is feeling equal parts relieved and anxious-relieved to get off of the bus that reeks of wet clothes and weed, but anxious because, given his luck so far, there is probably nothing good waiting for him in the ER. Certainly he'll be getting a lecture on being on time. Once the doors swish open, he takes extra care getting off the bus, lest he have another accident.
The car comes out of nowhere.
One second Mario is crossing the street and the next, there's a sudden impact and he's lying on the ground, blinking rain out of his eyes. His head hurts, his ears are ringing, and there's a weird sort of pain in his shoulder and chest and leg. There are a lot of worried faces looking down at him and saying stuff he can't quite make out. He waves a hand.
"I'm okay," he says, sitting up slowly and ignoring the pain and dizziness that accompany the movement.
The driver of the car is saying something about insurance and another man is offering to walk him to the hospital.
"No! No, no, I'm fine. I'm a doctor." He staggers slowly to his feet and stands unsteadily, the world spinning madly for a second before coming back into focus. "I'm fine and I'm-I'm late for work so I'm gonna go," Mario says, his words strangely thick.
"No, man, you should really wait for the police," says the man who offered to take him to Angel's, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm okay," Mario insists, pushing his hand away. "And I'm tired of standing out here in the rain."
With that, he limps toward the hospital as quickly as he can manage, ignoring the shouts that float after him. He's only vaguely aware of the fact that he's currently functioning solely on adrenaline. Mostly he worries about the verbal beating he's sure to get. Not that punctuality has ever been his strong suit, but he's almost an hour late, and Angus's big brother is proving to be more of a hard-ass than expected.
He slips in through a side door and sneaks into the locker room, where he gratefully collapses onto a bench. He's really starting to feel it now, and the ringing in his ears has yet to subside. Everything aches, and breathing is proving to be somewhat of a chore. He stands stiffly, a groan escaping his lips.
Yep.
He definitely did something to piss off the universe.
He opens his locker and pulls out a set of scrubs, then sets to the unpleasant task of peeling the wet clothes off of his battered self. Every movement is painful. Once his clothes are off, he looks himself over with dismay.
His right side, where the car hit, took the brunt of the damage: his knee is swollen and discolored, and there's an angry red bruise stretching along most of his right chest, already taking on mottled hues of blue-black and purple. His left side, while significantly less injured than the right, is not unscathed. There's a large scrape on his left hip and elbow where he hit the pavement, and he can feel a knot forming above his left ear where his head followed the rest of him.
He's half-tempted to just stay in the locker room in his briefs until someone finds him, but also he's been a patient before and he hates it. Besides, the car barely swiped him. Gingerly, he gets into his hospital uniform. He's just gotten his top on when Angus comes on, blood on his scrubs.
"Mario, where the hell have you been? Mike's about to have a conniption and Leanne is on a warpath!"
Mario slips easily into his haughty indifference as he gives a shrug. "A branch fell on my car and I had to catch the bus."
Angus looks skeptical but nods. "Well, you better get out on the floor and explain yourself. Come on."
Mario trails after Angus, glad that he didn't question the half-explanation. He gets to the ER and is met with varying degrees of withering glares from his coworkers, which he does his best to ignore. Mike looks up from the patient he's with and waves Mario over.
"Thanks for gracing us with your presence, Savetti! Help me get this kid's knee back into place."
Mario nods in obedience, positioning himself at the end of the patient's bed and taking a hold of his foot.
"Alright, on my count," Mike says. "One, two, three!"
Mario tugs on the foot while Mike pushes the disjointed knee back into its socket. The patient's cry of agony drowns out Mario's own gasp of pain from the strain on his injured shoulder and chest. His ears are buzzing and black spots obscure his vision and his insides are roiling and suddenly he's bent at the middle, retching and losing what little breakfast he'd had. It makes his chest burn and his head pound and he squeezes his eyes closed because shit if those damned bright hospital lights don't make it worse.
A rough hand grabs his arm and drags him into the hall, and he finds himself in the undesirable position of staring into the face of a very pissed off Mike Leighton. "Did you come into this ER with a hangover?" he growls.
Mario swallows. He doesn't want to lie, but he also really doesn't want to tell the truth, so he just mumbles an apology at Mike's shoes.
Mike slams a hand against the wall next to Mario's head, the loud bang making him wince. Mike takes a step back, shaking his head. "You know, I'd been led to believe by many of the staff here that you were better than this."
Suddenly, Angus appears at the end of the hall, clearing his throat. "We've got someone in here who needs you, Mike," he says.
Mike looks back at Mario and sticks a finger in his face. "You'd better get your shit together, Savetti, or you're out of here," he warns before storming off.
Mario lets out a shaky breath that he hadn't realized he was holding. Angus approaches with an apologetic look on his face. "Things are actually relatively quiet right now, and Doctor Hudson wants me to grab some stuff from the supply closet before it gets crazy. I can't carry it all myself."
Mario recognizes the invitation and, forcing a smile, follows Angus to the elevator.
"Sorry about Mike. He's just trying to adjust to his new position," Angus says, stepping into the elevator and pressing one of the buttons. Mario just nods, getting in after him. Any adrenaline he'd had is all but gone now, and he's exhausted and he hurts and he wants very badly to crawl into bed and sleep for a very long time. Angus is still babbling away and Mario hums every once in awhile in feigned attention. A sudden stop in the chatter draws his attention, and he looks up to see Angus cocking his head to the side, brow furrowed.
"Hey, you okay?" he asks. "You're sort of wheezing."
Mario hadn't noticed it but he is, in fact, sort of wheezing and wow, his chest feels like-well, like it's been hit by a very large and fast-moving chunk of metal. He's about to answer when the elevator suddenly lurches to a stop, the lights going off and pitching them into darkness. Mario hits the elevator wall and lets out a gasp as he feels something in his chest give. After a few panicked seconds, the auxiliary power kicks in and bathes the elevator in a strange greenish-white light. Mario takes a slow, shallow breath, certain now that he's broken a rib or two.
Also, he may have just punctured a lung.
Angus is talking to someone, probably one of the other staff members, on his cell phone, and
Mario waits until he hangs up to speak.
"Um, Angus?" he says, surprised and dismayed at the quavering in his voice.
"Yeah? You okay?" Angus says, his eyebrows knit in concern and his eyes wide in that stupid sincere way of his. Mario swallows, though his dry mouth does very little to soothe his parched throat. He looks at Angus's shoes.
"I, uh…" he begins. He takes as deep a breath as he can manage, shallow and shaky. "I got hit by a car this morning on my way here."
Angus lets out a snort of disbelief and rolls his eyes. "Oh, yeah. Right."
Mario shuts his eyes tight. "I'm not hungover, Angus. I think I may have a concussion and I think…I think I may have punctured a lung." Mario opens his eyes to see Angus, a few shades paler, gazing at him.
"Why the hell didn't you say something?" Angus asks quietly, his voice shaking-though, judging by the look on his face, it's shaking more from anger than fear.
Mario blinks, his eyes suddenly brimming with tears. "I-I don't kn-" There's a sudden, stabbing pain in his gut and he gasps sharply. The action sets off a coughing fit, every rattling hack jarring his broken ribs and sending fresh waves of agony through his torso. Angus is talking to him, saying words that Mario can't make out, and touching his neck with two cold fingers (why is he doing that?) and his eyes widen before he turns away. A metallic taste fills Mario's mouth as he leans back against the elevator wall for support, and he is vaguely aware of Angus slamming his hands against the elevator doors and shouting. And then Mario, exhausted and hurting, just…lets go.
XXX
Angus is making as much noise as he can, hoping that someone, anyone, will hear him and come to the rescue. If Mario had waited this long to tell him that he had been hit by a car, then what he had revealed may not even be the whole of it. In which case he could die here in the elevator. The thought sends fresh panic coursing through Angus's bones, making his heart hammer a little faster. He almost doesn't hear the soft thump behind him, and he turns to see Mario unconscious on the floor, pale and still.
"Damn it!" he mutters to himself, dropping to his knees beside Mario. His hands are trembling, and he tries to convince himself that this isn't his friend beneath his fingers, that it's a patient just like any other. He forces deep breaths, thinking through his training. He knows what to do.
Just another patient.
Carefully, he maneuvers Mario so he's lying down flat on his back, grateful for large hospital elevators meant for gurneys. Mario lets out a little moan at the movement but is otherwise unresponsive. Gently, Angus lifts Mario's shirt, pushing it up so he can see the skin beneath.
A lot of choice words pop into Angus's head at that moment, but he's been rendered speechless so that's where they stay. The right side of Mario's trunk is badly bruised, evident even in the poor lighting. Angus pushes down the emotions that are threatening to overcome him and continues his examination of the patient, pressing gentle fingertips to his chest, checking for broken ribs and trying to ignore the small groans that come from him. There are two that are definitely fractured, and a third that could be.
"Okay, Mario? You with me?" Angus asks in his best Doctor voice, because that's calmer and much more professional than his Friend voice. Mario doesn't open his eyes, but does offer a grunt which Angus takes to be equivalent to a "yes". "Good, that's good. Do you know where you are?"
"I'm not an idiot," Mario whispers.
Angus lets out a nervous chuckle. "Just shut up and answer the question, Savetti."
"Elevator."
Angus is about to ask another question (the date one, which requires a little more cognitive awareness) when there's a sharp rap on the door and a gruff voice says, "Hey! Anyone in here?"
"Yes!" Angus cries immediately,scrambling to his feet. "Yes, we need to get out of here as soon as possible! There's a man in here that needs medical attention!"
"Alright, sir. My name is Gordon, and a couple of my coworkers and I are gonna get the doors open in just a minute. But the elevator wasn't all the way up here when the power went out, and it's unlikely that you're going to be able to get out."
Any relief that Angus had felt is shattered, replaced with hopelessness. The doors are pried open a moment later, and there's only about a foot and a half of space. A man kneels down and peers in at Angus.
"Hey, there. It's Gordon. Anything I can do to help?"
"Get me Doctor Leighton. Mike Leighton. And tell him that there's a man in here with pneumothorax and a possible concussion. And hurry!" Angus says. Gordon nods and vanishes as Angus returns to Mario's side.
"You still with me?" he asks. This time there's no answer. Angus's heart skips a beat and he holds his breath, not letting it out until he feels Mario's faint pulse beneath his fingers. His breathing is getting more labored as the air escapes his from his lung and instead fills his chest cavity, further collapsing the lung in a deadly downward spiral.
Not getting a response to verbal commands, Angus rubs a knuckle against Mario's sternum, eliciting a weak moan but not much else. Better than nothing, but worse than Angus had hoped.
"Hey, little brother."
The voice makes Angus jump, and he looks over his shoulder to see Mike peering in at him.
Angus's heart jumps and he stands, facing his brother, words tumbling out of his mouth faster than he can think of them. "Mike! Thank god! I don't know what to do. Mario's hurt really bad and his lung is collapsed and I think he has a concussion and he's not doing so hot and we can't get ou-"
"Hey! Hey, hey, hey! Slow down, Angus. Slow down. Take a breath. And tell me what's going on," Mike says, calm and steady as ever.
Angus nods, taking a deep breath. "Okay. Yeah. Um-Mario got hit by a car this morning and it broke his ribs and punctured a lung." Mike's face changes at got hit by a car, but he doesn't say anything so Angus keeps going. "About ten minutes ago, he was talking to me, but I had to administer painful stimulus just now and even then he didn't-" The panic is coming again and Angus can't breathe. "He's gonna die, Mike!"
"Angus, he is not going to die! Here." Mike holds a bag down through the gap and Angus takes it in his arms. "Everything you need for a thoracotomy is in there. You do that, keep him stable until the lights come back on, and he'll be okay."
Angus shakes his head. "I can't, Mike, I can't do that. He's my friend and if-"
"Angus," a voice croaks behind him. He turns. Mario is awake again, looking over at him with glassy eyes. "I trust you."
Angus has to swallow a few times, blink moisture out of his eyes, before he looks back at Mike, who nods. "I'll talk you through it, man. Every step. You're a great doctor. You can do this."
Angus nods back. "Okay. Okay. Tell me what to do," he says, opening the bag and rifling through its contents until he finds the blue rubber gloves and mask, pulling them on.
"Okay. There are scissors in the bag. Go ahead and cut away his shirt."
Angus does so, trying not to think about the ugly bruising beneath.
"You remember where to put the tube?" Mike asks.
"The...the triangle of safety," Angus replies. He grabs Mario's arm and carefully moves it so his hand is resting under his head, giving him a clear view of his armpit. Then he grabs a pen from his chest pocket and draws a triangle on Mario's skin that starts in his armpit and goes down so it's level with the bottom of his nipple, just to the right of his pec muscle.
"Good. Very good. Now disinfect the area," Mike instructs.
Angus pulls out the iodine and swabs the amber liquid on Mario's skin, all the way down to his abdomen. "Okay. What now?"
"Local anesthetic."
Angus finds the little bottle of lidocaine and a syringe, which he pulls out of the package. Mario is semi-conscious, his eyes open to slits, and Angus puts a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm going to give you a lidocaine shot, Mario. There's gonna be a bit of a pinch." Both of them know full well that that's a euphemism. Mario gasps sharply as Angus pushes the needle into his skin.
"You've gotta got all the way through to the parietal pleura," Mike says, and Angus pushes the needle in further. Mario lets out a whimper.
"I know it hurts, but I'm almost done," Angus says. He pushes the needle further, simultaneously pressing down on the plunger. "Mike-Mike, the syringe is filling with air."
"That's good, Angus. It means you've reached the pleural space. You can take the needle out now," Mike answers.
Angus nods, carefully pulling the needle back out of Mario's chest. Mario's eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth drawn into a thin line.
"You still with me, Savetti?" Angus says softly. Mario grunts in response. Angus takes this as a good sign. "You getting numb?"
"Yeah." Mario's voice comes out in a breathy whisper.
"Good," Mike says. "Angus, you've got to get the scalpel out now."
Angus feels the color drain from his face. He'd only recently gotten up the courage to use one of those on a living human, and that was in a fully equipped ER filled with medical professionals.
And the living human in question wasn't his best friend.
"Mike, I can't do this. I can't-I can't cut him," Angus can hardly keep the quaver out of his voice.
"Yes, you can. Angus, you're a doctor, and a damn fine one. He's just another patient, and he needs you. Got it?"
Angus nods, does as he's told.
"Okay. You're going to make an incision above his rib, about two centimeters long," Mike instructs. With how calm he is, he may as well be telling Angus how to change a tire.
Angus rinses the scalpel with a splash of iodine before making the incision. Blood wells up out of the wound, sliding down Mario's side and onto the floor.
"You're okay Angus. Wipe away the excess blood and get out the Kelly clamp. You're going to have to separate the subcutaneous tissues to get into the intercostal muscles." Mike uses the medical terms, just like they were taught. Professional. Distanced.
Angus takes out the curved, pliers-like instrument and puts it into the opening, spreading apart the tissue layers. "Okay."
"Now guide it up and over the rib. You're making a path to the intercostal space."
Angus follows Mike's instructions, grateful that the tremors in his heart and stomach aren't being mirrored by his hands. "Got it."
"Good. Now you're going to have to use your index finger to explore the space, make sure you've got a good pathway."
Angus swallows. Mario's fallen unconscious, which he's grateful for as he slides his finger into the wound, moving it around. This would be torture if not for lidocaine and a medical license, Angus thinks to himself with a small shudder. "I think it's good."
"You think it's good, or it is good?"
"It's good," Angus answers.
"Great. Now you're going to encounter the parietal pleura. You're going to use your finger to push through it to the pleural space. You'll feel a give."
Angus takes a deep breath before once again putting his finger in the wound. He comes up against the membrane and presses against it, almost startled when there's a sudden stop in the resistance and his finger goes forward a little more. "Got it!" Angus cries.
"Now you've got to move your finger around, make sure his lung isn't adhering to his chest wall."
Angus's stomach turns and he's beginning to regret his choice of profession. His finger is literally inside of his friend's chest. It's not a feeling he enjoys.
"It's good," Angus says, removing his finger from the hole. There's a sudden release of liquid, and Angus feels panic well up. "Shit! Mike, he's bleeding again! Like, a lot! I don't-"
"Angus!" Mike cries. Angus stops.
"Huh?"
"Look. Are you sure it's blood?"
"Yes Mike, I know what blood looks like!" Angus snaps. But as he looks at the liquid, he can see that it isn't blood. It's much thinner, and the color is lighter and not that same deep red that blood has. It reminds Angus of red wine (which, he is never drinking that again). Angus lets out a breath. "It's pleural fluid," he says, so relieved he almost laughs. "It's just-it's just pleural fluid."
"Good, Angus. That's just fine. He's going to be fine."
Angus notes that Mike seems less sure just then than he had before. The more he says the word fine, the less fine he actually sounds. He pushes the thought from his mind; it does nothing but make him more worried, which is the last thing he or Mario needs right now.
"What now?" Angus asks.
"You're done the hardest part. Now you have to lead the tube in through the hole you made, make a few stitches to secure it, and you're done. Easy."
Nothing about this has been easy, but Angus doesn't say so, just takes the tube out of the bag and washes it down with the orange-red iodine solution.
"Okay. Now you're gonna have to be careful as you push the tube in-too soft, and you won't make it through the tissues, but too hard, and you could damage his lung more. Just take your time," Mike instructs. Angus can hear someone else outside the elevator now, talking to Mike in a hushed voice. He thinks he hears a scream, too, but he could be imagining it.
He slips the end of the tube into the incision he'd made. Mario stirs a little beneath him, letting out a barely audible groan.
"Almost done," Angus says softly, guiding the tube into Mario's chest. A second later, air hisses out of the tube, and and Mario takes a shuddery breath.
A grin spreads across Angus's face, and he looks back at his brother. "I got it!"
"Good," Mike answers abruptly, starting to stand. "Look, they need me out on the floor. Monitor his breathing, and now that you're done you should probably try and keep him awake for short intervals until we can get you guys out of there. You did good, Angus.
Angus gives him a nod, and then Mike is off. Angus is finishing Mario's stitches when he lets out a low moan, his eyes fluttering open.
"An...Angus?" he breathes, his voice low.
"Heeeey, buddy, How you feelin'?" Angus says, cutting off the last bit of thread.
Mario groans again. "'t hurts."
Angus feels his brows furrow in concern. "What, your chest? The lidocaine shouldn't wear off that fast."
Mario shakes his head slightly. "N...no. My...my sto-my stomach."
Angus's heart jumps in his chest. "Your...stomach?"
He shifts his attention from the freshly done stitches, turning instead to Mario's abdomen. There'd been bruising before, but it's gotten worse, spreading and growing a darker, deeper reddish purple. Angus draws in a sharp breath.
"Bad?" Mario whispers.
Angus forces a smile, as wide as he can manage. What he manages is a grimace. "Naw, you're okay."
"Don' feel okay. It-shit!" His eyes go wide and his voice raises to a raw shout. "It hurts!"
"We need help in here!" Angus shouts as loud as he can. "Help!"
Mario makes an anguished sound behind him and Angus raises his voice as loud as it will go, til his voice is raw and the yelling so loud and constant that he doesn't even hear the buzz of the electricity as it comes back on.
XXX
"BP's down! I need a unit of O-neg!" Mike calls.
Mario's face is pale and drawn in pain, and there's a film of sweat on his forehead. "It's...it's internal then," he breathes. His voice is tight, on the verge of panic.
"Yeah, buddy. But you'll be fine, okay? Why don't you just try and relax," Mike says, prepping an IV.
"'m...I'm gonna need surgery?"
"It's certainly looking that way, Savetti. You know, if you wanted some time off, you could've just asked."
Mario doesn't smile at the attempted joke, just locks eyes with Mike. "I want...I want Dr. Hudson to-please," he whispers. There are tears in his eyes.
"I'm not sure-"
"Please, Mike!"
Mike nods, casting a glance at the monitor. "Okay."
Mario's face relaxes a little, and then his eyes are rolling back in his head and monitors are blaring and Mike is shouting for Dr. Hudson and if Savetti doesn't make it through this Angus will be crushed-and heaven knows the poor kid's been through enough in the past two months. He's talking Malaya through establishing an airway (something she knows how to do, why has she suddenly forgotten?) and then Neal is there, ordering Mario to be taken to an OR.
Time seems to freeze in the ER as, for the second time in as many months, one of their own is wheeled away for surgery. A patient lets out a sudden cough breaking the spell.
"Alright guys," Mike says with as much conviction as he can muster. "I know Mario's a co-worker and a friend, but we've still got jobs to do. Come on, let's get back to work."
Mike drowns himself in work for the remainder of the shift, taking on a new patient as soon as one is dealt with. Anything to keep his mind off of his little brother and Dr. Savetti.
By the time they'd gotten the two out of the elevator, Angus was practically hysterical, his voice blown and his knuckles busted up from banging on the doors. Mike had taken him off his shift early and sent him home. He'd refused, electing to skulk around the waiting room instead. Mike's pretty sure he's still there now, waiting for news on Mario.
The last hour goes by quickly, and Mike washes up and changes as fast as he can before heading over to the waiting room. Angus is, indeed, still there. He hasn't even changed out of his scrubs; Mario's blood is still on his sleeves and collar. He's just sitting there, staring intently at nothing.
"Hey, Angus," Mike says quietly, not wanting to startle him. Angus doesn't even acknowledge his presence. Mike clears his throat and sits in the chair next to his brother. "Why don't you go home and get some sleep? Mario's in surgery, and it could be a while, and you've had a hell of a day."
"I'm not going anywhere," Angus says, soft but firm. He still hasn't looked up.
"Well, will you at least get cleaned up? You can shower here and change into your street clothes."
Angus sighs. "Fine. But then I'm coming right back here and I'm not leaving until Mario wakes up."
"Fair enough," Mike answers. "Now go on."
Angus trudges away, looking bone-weary. Mike himself is feeling pretty wiped, and he leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. He must drift off, because when he opens his eyes again, Angus is sitting next to him, only now he's in jeans and a t-shirt with a hoodie over top, staring at a crossword puzzle from a magazine that's probably almost as old as he is.
"Mario's out of surgery. It went well, and they're gonna let me go sit with him once he's out of the recovery ward and in the ICU. They've still gotta monitor him though. His liver got pretty banged up, and they need to make sure it doesn't start bleeding again," Angus says as soon as Mike sits up. It's the most words he's said since Mike talked him through the thoracostomy on the elevator.
"Sounds like he's doing pretty well then, huh? That's good," Mike says. Angus just shrugs. Mike frowns. "That is good isn't it?"
"I guess. I just...I can't stop thinking that if I'd just paid attention when he came in this morning-I mean, I saw him limping and I didn't even ask about it!" Angus looks like he's on the verge of tears, and Mike feels the Protective Big Brother thing starting to kick in.
"Bullshit," he says. Angus looks up at him in astonishment. Mike continues. "Even if you had noticed and asked him about it, do you think he would have told you the truth? And even if he had, what could you have possibly done differently to change the outcome? The answer is absolutely nothing. What you did today in that elevator probably saved his life. Not only were you a good friend in there, you were an excellent doctor. I couldn't have done better myself. Now stop beating yourself up. As both your older brother and your boss, that's what I'm here for."
Angus smiles a little, but it's clear there's still something bothering him. Mike is about to ask when Angus begins to speak.
"He said he trusted me. Even after everything I did. The Adderall and everything that came with that-the irresponsible behavior, the-the douchiness. How could he just forgive that?"
"I dunno. That's not for me to say. But he knew about the drug abuse, and he trusted that you fixed it and that you were gonna do what needed to be done. That says a lot about him, and about how highly he thinks of you. He's a hell of a friend, Angus."
"I think I'm gonna tell him," Angus says after a minute. "About the parking garage. But I'm scared. Scared of what he'll think of me, you know? I don't want to disappoint him again."
"I think that's a good idea," Mike says, watching the surprise that spreads across his little brother's face. He's seen what it does to him, trying to keep the myriad emotions hidden just beneath the surface. It hasn't been great. "If anyone's going to understand what you did that day, it'll be Mario. Take your time, and tell him when you're ready. Hell, I'll go with you if that would make it easier."
"Thank you, Mike," Angus says softly.
"Any time, nerd," Mike replies, tousling Angus's hair. Angus laughs a little, pushing his hand away, when Neal appears in the doorway, silencing the Leightons. He addresses Angus.
"We've just moved Dr. Savetti into the ICU. He's not awake yet, but you can go sit with him if you'd like."
Mike doesn't take it personally when Angus vanishes from the room without so much as a goodbye.
XXX
Mario wakes up all at once, heart pounding as he tries to figure out what the hell is going on because his head hurts and his knee hurts and damn his chest hurts and when he looks over to investigate there's a freaking tube sticking out of it and he's about to do something about it when a hand catches his. He looks up, startled, and sees Angus staring at him, telling him to calm down even as he reaches up to press something on an IV. Mario uses his free hand to pull the oxygen mouth down from his face
"Wha-wha's happening?" he rasps. His throat is dry and raw, and talking is kind of a pain.
"You're at Angel's Memorial. You had surgery. You remember what you told me on the elevator?" Angus's voice is surprisingly soothing, and Mario finds himself calming down. Or whatever drugs Angus flooded his system with are taking effect. Either way, he's able to think clearly enough to think back to the elevator. He nods slowly.
"Yeah, I...I was hit by a car," he says. The memory of what happened that morning floods his mind and he stares back at Angus. He twists the hand in Angus's grip and points down at the chest tube. "That was you?" Angus nods.
"Yep," Angus says, a small smile on his face. "My first chest tube. You're a lucky man!"
Mario feels a sly smile spread across his face. "Yeah, lucky to be alive." The drugs are definitely taking effect now, the aches and pains in his body being replaced by a strange floaty sensation. His head is getting a bit cloudy, and his eyelids begin to droop.
Angus laughs a little, then picks up the oxygen mask and slips it back over Mario's face. "You need to rest," he says warmly. Mario doesn't argue; Leighton is totally right. Before he falls asleep, though, he lifts the mask away again.
"You'll...you'll be here? When I wake up?" he asks. Angus nods. Satisfied, Mario puts the mask back over his face and falls asleep.
XXX
The next time he wakes up, Angus is snoring in a plastic chair and a cute nurse he doesn't recognize is checking his vitals. Mario tells himself to ask her for her number later.
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It's black outside when Mario wakes up again and Angus is still there, only now instead of sleeping, he's reading one of the cheesy romance novels from the gift shop. Also from the gift shop is a helium balloon that says "Get well soon!" and has a smiley face on it, tied to the end of his bed. Mario carefully moves the oxygen mask down.
"Hey," he says, startling Angus, who puts the book down with a start and gets up.
"What's wrong? Do you need anything?" he asks in that stupid sincere way of his.
Mario shakes his head. "Just to say thanks."
Angus looks down at the floor, blushing a little. "It was nothing, Savetti."
"No, it...it wasn't nothing," Mario says. "You saved my life."
Angus shrugs. "I did what I could. It was Neal that did all the surgery and-"
Mario sighs loudly. "Just accept my gratitude, Leighton," he says, feigning irritation. Angus smiles.
"You're welcome then. Just, don't go running in front of cars again. I sure as hell won't keep you alive in an elevator if you do."
Mario smiles. He's tired again, and can feel himself drifting off. "You're a good man, Angus," he says as sleep takes him once more.
XXX
Two weeks later, Mario is released from the hospital, a hole in his chest and a cast on his leg and at least three different medications. Angus gives him a ride home. Things are quiet, and a little awkward. Mario's pretty sure there's something Angus is wanting to say, but he's not saying it.
"You okay?" Mario asks.
"You know that day Malaya was stabbed?"
Mario blinks, taken aback. That certainly wasn't what he'd expected. "Uh, yeah...it's a little hard to forget."
A little color rises in Angus's cheeks. "I haven't stopped thinking about it since it happened."
Mario nods. "Yeah, you and Malaya are close."
"That's not what I mean."
Something in his voice makes Mario look over at him. Angus is staring straight ahead, not even glancing Mario's way. "What happened, Angus?" Mario says quietly.
"The man that stabbed her, he-he fell on his knife." Mario frowns, unsure where this is going as Angus continues. "I was trying to keep him calm, keep him from bleeding out and then...Mario, he said he was gonna kill her. Called her a...called her a bitch. And I…" Angus stops. He's blinking back tears. "I took my hands away from the wound. I just let him bleed."
Mario's heart jumps a little. In all honesty, he can't blame the guy. He probably would have done the same thing in that situation-or something worse. It makes his heart ache that Angus, who is so good, was the one that had to be there. Angus finally looks at him, his eyes watery.
"Are you mad?"
Mario shakes his head slowly. "No. No, I'm not. Is that why you started taking the Adderall?"
"Yeah," Angus says. Mario nods again. He is mad, but not at Angus. "I can't stop thinking about it. Everytime I'm in the hospital, every time I see the bed where he-where he died…" He stops again, sniffing back tears.
"Would you do it again?" Mario asks.
"What?"
Mario looks over at him. "If you had to do it all over again-if you heard him threaten Malaya's life again-would you do the same thing?"
Angus sighs. "I think that I would. And that scares me."
"You didn't stab that guy in the neck. He did that himself. In all likelihood, he would have died from his injuries anyway. The way I see it, you did one thing that day. You saved Malaya's life. And two weeks ago, you saved mine. That guilt you're feeling, it may never go away. But know that you're still a good man. A great one even."
Angus sniffles. "You mean that?"
"Hell yeah I do," Mario replies. "This is it, on the left." Angus pulls over.
"Thanks for listening," Angus says.
"Yeah, yeah. You wanna come in for a beer and some Survivor? I've missed the last two episodes."
Angus smiles. "Sure, Mario."
Before long, they're sitting on Mario's couch, drinking cheap beer and arguing over who has the best strategy. As strange as it seems, Mario can't help but think that maybe getting hit by that car isn't the worst thing that's happened to him.
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