Sometimes I write fanfics taking place in hospitals.

Sometimes I write too many fanfics taking place in hospitals . . .

I am not someone in this situation, but I figured it would be interesting to write. Heck, i just typed it up real fast because I felt like it would be a good idea. Hopefully everyone is in character and the situation is at least somewhat accurate. That and I hardly see these sorts of fics in any fandom unless it's smut or a parody. Either that or I don't look very hard. In addition, this is just a small part of the story I have in mind. Please tell me if you want me to make a full fledged story.

Ted is 15 years old here, just to let you know. If any of this seems inaccurate, let me know. Either way, please enjoy and review. :)

Revelation: Sample

"Theodore Raymond Grey!"

I don't give a shit about the others in the hospital. The nurses could drag me to the window and throw me out for all I fucking care- I'd climb right back the fuck up. My son is here. I'm worried, mad as hell. Just hours ago I found his bedroom window open after busting down the locked door and a goddam note that basically said not to bother looking for him. How the fuck am I supposed to react when the first piece of news I hear about his whereabouts is a call from this goddam place? I've caught him off guard and he's not hurt, hovering over a hospital bed with someone else in it. Good. I've got one hell of a piece of my mind to give him. I'm yanking him away before I know it. "The fucking hell were you thinking?!"

"Dad, I-"

"I don't want to hear it. We're going home. This is out of control."

"Dad, let me go!"

"No, I won't." I pull harder, look him in the eyes. His clothes are soiled with dirt. One of the lenses of his glasses has cracked. The pocket where I keep my fucks to give is empty. "This is fucking disrespectful to me, to Phoebe, but most of all to your mother. I can't believe how recklessly and ungratefully you've behaved. You clearly have no idea what Ana's done for you or what's she's gone through to keep you alive! I swear to God, if I have to put you the ROTC to put some goddamn sense into you-"

"Oh, to teach me to be 'good'?"

"Yes!" I can't believe this child, still giving me attitude.

"Well, why not lock me up in some church? That'll be more effective, right?"

"That's it, we're going home."

"No way."

"Excuse me?"

Theodore pulls away and grips the rails of the bed. The figure lying beneath the sheets- it's Isaac, the cheery upperclassmen and Theodore's best friend from school who visits us so often. Dried blood clumps tangled in his red, neatly trimmed hair and the boy is beaten black and blue. Unconscious- must've hit his head. Something's happened. Ted looks better, but clearly he was there, too. I'm just now noticing the blood stain on the left side of his sweatshirt and the long tear in the right leg of his jeans. The chucks he wears are caked in dry mud. Ted keeps his ground. That glare- it's hate. Pure, livid indignance, boring into my eyes and deeper like I'm some villain. "I'm not leaving him."

"Theodore, I'm about ready to take away your right to see your friend again. You are coming home right now- ."

"Like you want to take a fag home anyways!"

"Like I- what?"

A obscure chord strikes and rings, rippling through my insides and leaving unease behind. Ted. . . I've never heard him curse, let alone use a term like that. Hell, I don't think I've even heard that word used by anyone in decades. And that look on his face- averted eyes, tears brimming, bitten lip. It's nothing less than unadulterated shame.

"This . . . is my boyfriend, Dad."

. . .

Wait, what?!

I've been hit with a wall and am falling through the floor to who knows where. The late nights and slipping grades all for this? The fighting at school? Running away? I can't believe it. Doing so much stupid shit for something so small- ok, by itself, it's not small at all. It's huge. Monumental. Astronomical. But there was no logical reason to do any of those things. It makes no sense. If he's anything like me (and he is) it should have been so much worse- drugs, gangs, brawling, alcohol, sex and God knows what else. Somehow I'm able to will my legs to move me forward. Theodore- he's terrified. Ashen, trembling. Begging me to not hurt him or Isaac, trying to keep his voice firm and fists up as tears pour down. I can't help it- I need my son in my arms where he's safe, where he's loved no matter what. He's paralyzed in my grip, arms and legs locked. My throat constricts. I've fucked up. Somehow, I've fucked up. But what could I have possibly done to make him, my flesh and blood, fear me so? "Ted, you need to be honest with me. Is," I swallow. "Is that all it was?"

"What do you mean 'all it was'!?" Ted shoves himself out of my arms. "Did you not hear what I just said?! I'm gay. I don't like girls and this," he swings his arm towards the hospital bed, "is the most stable relationship I've ever had. I'm a freak!"

No.

I'm a freak!

Ted, please stop. I don't care. I honestly don't.

I'm a freak!

"Quit that. Right now."

"Don't touch me!"

Ted's been distant, of course, keeping to himself and choosing small amounts of words, but this drives it home. The way he shoved my arms away when I reached for him a second time, how he's backed into the far corner of the room. All the color drains from his face when he realizes how far he is from the bed, from Isaac. Theodore slides down into a sitting position, crying, gasping and pulling at the collar of the T-shirt underneath. Oh no, an asthma attack. I know the sight too well. And Ana has his inhaler- Shit! I knew it was a bad idea to split up . . .

"Ted. Ted, it's ok. Just calm down. Hands on your head. Breathe with me, ok?"

The boy shrinks further into the corner. What little air he can get down makes more noise than it helps. He's still afraid, eyeing me warily.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'll stay here." I'm on my knees, level with him, hands on my own head and beckoning him to mimic. "C'mon, in through your nose, out through your mouth. You can do it. Do it for Isaac."

Finally he's listening. Theodore straightens his posture and mirrors me. Gradually he gets control back.

"That's it. In and out. Neither me nor him want to see you like this. I'm sure he can still hear you and wants to know you're ok. In and out. You got it?"

Theodore nods. I doubt he's used his nose at all. Sure he's finally breathing better, but he's still a mess. Shuddering, weeping, still caught in the throes of this personal nightmare. "I can't give you any real grandkids," he whimpers.

"My grandma and grandpa didn't have any real grandkids either."

". . . I could get an STD, right?"

"Men and women can get STDs, Ted. It's up to you to use common sense and protection."

He stands up suddenly, eyes flaring. "How are you so calm about this?! Aren't you angry or something?"

"Oh, believe me- I'm still pissed. My heart and conscience can't take the strain of another stunt like that and you have a hell of a lot of explaining to do. And you will explain- I'd think you owe it to all of us. We could have avoided all this if you just said so right from the beginning."

Ted shakes his head in disbelief. "Isaac already took that risk. Look at where he is now."

Wait, then that means- Isaac- Oh hell- How?! When? Who? "Christ, did you call the police?"

"N-no. I had to get him away. Had to save him-" His resolve breaks further and he throws himself at me. "Oh, Daddy . . ."

Daddy! He hasn't called me that in years. And all my rage simmers down. This is still my son. Still the one who I wheeled out of this place fifteen years ago with Ana, the one who I shared story time with, one of four piled on the master bed in a tangle of blankets, pillows a bag of cheesy pretzels as we read Walter The Baker for the upteenth time, the one who I beckoned with nyquil or tylenol many a time for some semblance of a decent night's sleep, the one who is now holding onto me for dear life. "It's ok, Teddy Bear. I got you." The embrace is finally mutual. There is no right. No wrong. Just belonging. "I've got you. It's going to be ok."

"I-Isaac-"

"I know. Everything's going to be alright, Teddy Bear. I've got you."

FST

Finally. After damn near a half hour of tears and rocking back and forth and a meeting set up tomorrow with a officer, Theodore's breathing evenly in a peaceful sleep, lax in my arms. It's been months since I've seen him so at ease with me. I shouldn't keep him on the floor forever. He'll be alright in a hospital chair, hopefully. I call Ana and tell her he's been found and that we'll be staying the night at the hospital. "It's a long story, baby. I don't even know all of it. But Ted's going to be alright." She presses me for answers that I can't give. "He's going to have to tell you himself. Maybe we can all go out for dinner or something, just be a family. It should put him at ease. . . Yeah, it's kind of big, but nothing we can't handle. He was just scared, I think."

"Did he have any attacks?"

"One, yes, but he was able to calm down. He's asleep for now."

"Christian, I want answers."

"You'll have them, I promise. We all will. You and Bee go home for now. Like I said, we'll be here at the hospital. All that I can tell you is that Isaac's been in an accident and Theodore wants to stay with him. We're all fine though."

"Isaac? Oh my God, when- how-"

"That's for tomorrow. Please, go home. Go to bed. I'll call you first thing in the morning. I love you, ok?"

". . ."

"Please, trust me."

". . . I love you too, Christian. You'd better call. Good night."

"Of course I will. Good night, Anastasia."

I hang up and lift Ted up in my arms. He's light, small for his age. The chair next to the bed will do. His head rolls to the side and his form slouches, but suddenly cringing in his sleep. I frown. He needs comfort. Careful not to wake Ted or hurt Isaac, I move their hands together. Their fingers curl around each others' almost instantly. It's not traditional, not by a longshot, but the picture is somewhat satisfying. Complete. If they really are together like that, then they'll both probably sleep better knowing the other is still there.

My Ted. Gay. It's a surprise, no doubt, but not a convenience or inconvenience either way, at least not now. I won't know until later, probably, just like all the other surprises in my life, most of which happened for the better. Meeting Ana, her walking out on me, Leila, Jack Hyde, the first pregnancy (and the second for that matter), my son's asthma, my daughter's dyslexia, their growth despite that- I could go on and on.I suddenly feel the weight of my age. Forty-five. I have to take my own seat in the opposite corner. "God damn." Yet I don't think my life truly started until about fifteen years ago, when a little accident stumbled into my office and blossomed into the sometimes boisterous, sometimes violent, and sometimes forgiving plethora of absolute characters who I now know as family-

Wait- Mother. Father. Elliot, Mia. They'll all want to know about this. Carla and Ray, too. Ted's right, we won't have genetic grandkids, at least not from him. I can't imagine my father would be too approving and my mother-in-law probably won't be able to keep her nose from going in too far. At least they can decide for sure when they want children. Within wedlock, for sure. No bullshit about "Oh, it's not legal". Gay marriage is perfectly fine and permissible in Oregon, last I checked. But then again, I never really checked. How would it even go? Would there be two grooms? Who would walk who down the aisle-

No, I'm getting way too ahead of myself. This is just dating. And dating needs rules. I retrieve my iphone and open up a new document in the Google Drive app. Pensively, I stroke my chin. What would they be exactly? Boyfriends? Perhaps, but that seems to be too informal of a term. Gives me an odd sort of shiver and a lingering itch in the back of my head. Subjects? No, too clinical. Participants? What am I thinking- this isn't a damned game! Partners? . . . Yes, that'll do. Like two halves of a whole. Sets the tone for the document. My thumbs are quickly prancing across the touch screen.

The following is a binding contract between partner one (Theodore Raymond Grey) and partner two (Isaac Fenn III) . . .

End of Sample

Like it? Should I make a story based around the idea? I'll do it from Ted's POV, most likely. Please review, ok? Have a good day! :)