AN: This story is starting to get harder to write, as it is supposed to be fluffy. I do not want to do these characters an injustice or simply glaze over elements that I've introduced.

I hope I will not let you down!
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Tino tried to stay asleep.

He wasn't ready to wake up, but the sounds of the machinery and people chatting in the hall were impossible to ignore, as was the warm pressure on one of his hands. He opened his eyes, blinking at the tiled ceiling. He lay still, breathing even in and out, in and out, each breath eliciting sharp pains in his ribs and a burning sensation in his lungs. His throat felt like it had been rubbed raw with a cactus.

His whole person hurt. It was difficult to differentiate where one pain ended and another began. His vision swam and he noticed that one of his eyes seemed to be swollen shut. There was a dull ache in his nose, like he had bonked it on something while he slept. He wanted to reach up and feel his face, but he did not want to let go of Berwald's hand and his other arm was felt too heavy to move, weighed down and laying across his aching abdomen.

He tried to turn his head to face whomever was holding his hand, the sudden moment causing an burst of pain behind his eyes, searing hot, like his head was splitting in half. He paused, his eyes fluttering closed, and he waited for the shock of pain to subside before he slowly turned again.

Berwald.

His head was bowed, glasses pushed up on to his crown. One hand was holding his face, elbow propped on his knee, the other clutching Tino's. He couldn't tell if he was asleep, or simply sitting quiet. Behind him an explosion of colour, every spare surface crammed full of flowers, cards, and floating balloons with 'get well soon!' written on them in cheery lettering. He would have smiled if his lips had not felt so dry.

There was a wet sniffle and a shuddering breath and Tino refocused on the doctor attached to his hand. His head slowly raised and red-rimmed eyes weighed down by heavy bags locked on to Tino. Even with his face screaming 'grief', he was still the most beautiful person Tino had ever seen. He wanted to reach out a hand and touch his face, to ask him why he looked so sad. Berwald inhaled sharply and his chair clattered to the floor behind him as he threw himself to the edge of Tino's hospital bed. His free hand hovered centimeters from Tino's cheek, like he wasn't sure if he could initiate physical contact or not.

"T-T-" he stuttered. Tino tried to say, 'hey,' but his lips barely moved and no noise came out. Berwald looked to be on the verge of hyperventilation, with no glasses to mask his emotions, his eyes shone bright with panic. Tino squeezed his hand, hoping to convey some sort of reassurance, 'I'm here, I'm alive'.

A sudden surge of tears flooded his own eyes. Why was he here? The last thing he remembered was walking home from work... No, that wasn't right. He closed his eyes and fragments of memories began to burst across the back of his lids. He remembered the sunset, the smell of the early summer air, then warm metal on his cheek, the wet crack on pavement, a small piece of clover.

He could hear tires squealing and someone screaming nearby.

He recalled a pair of red eyes staring down at him, not unkind or frightening. A mouth, asking questions Tino could not hear, falling in and out of darkness.

He saw Dr. Kohler's face through a crowd of people – wasn't he in Africa? Did Tino go to Africa? No, that wasn't possible.

He remembered being covered with a mask and everything falling still. He remembered feeling very cold.

His head hurt, scalding pain across his scalp and it was hot, like he was under too many blankets. His eyes burned, his nose hurt, his mouth, it felt hard to breathe. His chest, his sides, like a fire was roaring every time he put oxygen into his lungs. His one arm felt like he'd dipped it into a pot of boiling water up to his neck then left it in a bucket of ice. His hips were aching. His knees felt – knees.

His one leg felt heavy, aching, searing, but the other... he froze and concentrated on wiggling his toes. The fire in his lungs ignited with new-found rage as his breathing melted into a frenzied panic. The cardiac machine was screaming nearby.

He needed quiet. He needed to process. People chatting in the hall outside of his room were too loud, the birds outside the window were too loud, all of the machinery he was hooked up to was too loud. He tried to sit up, ripping at all the tubes and wires attached to him. The cardiac machine started calling flatline the moment he tore the sensors from his body. His throat felt like it was being ripped apart and he realized he was crying out.

Strong arms were suddenly pushing in to his shoulders. His vision filled with ocean blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses and a scowl – his brain translated the expression into 'concerned'.

He heard several people run into the room, but he also saw Berwald's lips moving, telling him to keep looking at him, so he did not look away. He let himself get lost in the blue, willing is breathing to slow, even out, ignoring everything else going on in the room. He kept staring, even when he felt someone take his arm and prick it. He was still concentrating on the blue as darkness fell over him and he passed into a dreamless sleep.

.

The room was quiet when Tino woke for the second time.

This time, waking up in a hospital bed did not come as a surprise to him. He blinked at the ceiling and focused on breathing evenly, calmly. He started to mentally assess himself, starting with his head.

He could feel the rough fabric of the bandage wound tightly around his crown, the dull ache over his ear alerting him to an injury there, likely some sort of laceration. He remembered hitting his head on the hood of a car and the sickening crunch as he fell against the pavement. A cut on his head was the least of his concerns and an injury that made sense. His face felt swollen, and he still could not open one eye fully, and it was difficult to breathe through his nose – this also made sense to him. He moved his tongue around in his mouth, all his teeth seemed to be present and accounted for. His right shoulder ached, his arm tightly bound and in a sling. His skin felt raw wherever it came into contact with his bedclothes or the blanket neatly tucked around him. His chest felt like it was on fire, his sides to his sternum roaring in pain with each breath. The more he thought about the pain when breathing, the more panicked he felt himself become, so he quickly moved on to the ache in his hips. His pelvis felt like there could be no possible position that would be comfortable, and he winced as he tried to wriggle himself, to test the range of movement. He quickly held still, regretting trying, and he had to take a minute to wait for the pain-induced nausea that washed over him to pass.

Finally, his right leg felt like it had been run over by a car and promptly lit on fire. He pursed his dry and cracking lips as he tried to identify the pain. Everything below his knee felt like it was stuffed with broken glass. He could not make sense of his left leg at all. He paused and thought a moment about wiggling his toes, the muscles in his right leg seeming to scream in protest as he did so, his left eliciting no response at all.

There was a sound at the door to his room and his eyes darted towards it. His pulse quickened as he locked eyes with Berwald, who looked startled to see him awake.

"Hey," he managed to say, his voice sounding rough and distant. Berwald blinked a few times and tried to smile, but only managing a grimace. Tino appreciated the effort. He lurched forward and crossed the room, moving around Tino's bed and dropping into the chair next to it. He reached out and took Tino's uninjured hand, bringing it to his lips in a soft kiss. His eyes were flashing with so many questions, Tino could hardly translate fast enough. He watched in patient silence as Berwald tried to compose his face into something Tino could understand. After several failed attempts, Berwald bowed his head in defeat and sighed heavily; when he looked back up at Tino, his eyes were red and watery.

"I think," Tino croaked, giving Berwald's hand a light squeeze, trying to convey that he did not need to say anything, whether it be with his voice or his eyes, "I think I am going to be in need of your professional services."

Berwald openly wept.

.

Peter did not see Dr. O for the next several days. Instead, Uncle Matthias was there. He had explained that Dr. O was very upset that Tino was in the hospital, that the two were very close, and he wanted to stay by his side until Tino eventually woke up. Peter said he understood, he knew Tino was Dr. O's 'wife' and Matthias laughed, ruffling his hair.

During the day on Saturday they played games at home, then went to a movie. Peter wondered when he'd get to see Dr. O again, but he knew he had to be patient.

On Monday, Uncle Matthias told Peter that Tino had finally woken up and this was very good news; however, Dr. O still did not come home. They worked on the puzzle with ships and watched documentaries about fish and whales and sharks on TV. They tried to make cookies, but they didn't turn out very well, so they went to the store and bought some, instead.

On Tuesday, Peter woke to find Dr. Bondevik in the kitchen making breakfast instead of Uncle Matthias.

"Good morning, Peter," he had tried to sound friendly, but Peter felt it was weird seeing the pediatrician without a lab coat and standing barefoot in his new kitchen.

"Where's Uncle Matt?"

Dr. Bondevik's mouth twitched in a sort of half-smile and he said, "he was called in to work early this morning."

"Oh."

They fell into silence and Dr. Bondevik readied a plate of scrambled eggs and buttered toast, handing it to Peter and shooing him towards the dining table.

Dr. Bondevik was not as fun as Uncle Matthias, but he had tried. He took Peter to the library in the morning to find some books to read, then they made cookies – that actually turned out. Peter did a lot of reading in the afternoon by himself because Dr. Bondevik had to sleep before his night shift; he slept in Dr. O's room. In the evening Uncle Matthias returned and Dr. Bondevik left for work.

On Thursday both Uncle Matthias and Dr. Bondevik were in the kitchen. Peter was quiet as he crept from his room and he saw them standing together by the fridge. Uncle Matthias had his arms loose around Dr. Bondevik's waist, his mouth was pressed against his forehead. Dr. Bondevik had his hands resting on his chest. They were quiet and unmoving, both of their eyes were closed. Peter wondered if he shouldn't be watching, but they didn't seem to be do anything gross, so he cleared his throat as he padded into the kitchen. Dr. Bondevik jumped and shoved Uncle Matthias away so hard he fell backwards into the counter, crying out an angry, 'hey!' before bursting into laughter.

"Morning, kiddo," he rubbed his lower back, chuckling.

Dr. Bondevik offered Peter a plate with an open-faced sandwich on it, smoked salmon and cream cheese, with a side of sliced tomatoes, and followed him to the dining table with his cup of orange juice. Both doctors joined him at the table with their own breakfast and steaming mugs of coffee – Uncle Matthias dumped sugar and milk in his, and Dr. Bondevik drank his black.

"Berwald was asking after you last night," Dr. Bondevik said, spreading some butter on a piece of toast. Peter lit up and started wriggling in his chair.

"When is he coming home?"

"He said he wanted to come home this weekend. He is planning on returning to work on Monday." Peter slumped and frowned. He had hoped he'd get to spend some time with Dr. O at home like he had been with Uncle Matthias (and now Dr. Bondevik). He ate in silence.

When he was done his breakfast, he sat in his chair kicking his feet back and forth, chewing on his bottom lip. Uncle Matthias didn't seem to notice, his eyes were glued to the TV on the other side of the room. Dr. Bondevik, however, was watching him with a raised eyebrow over the rim of his mug.

"What is the matter?" He finally asked, setting his cup down and nudging Matthias.

"I was just thinking..." Peter said, pushing at his plate with his artificial limb, "maybe I should go back to school soon." He wasn't sure he was ready, but he was starting to feel like he couldn't stay at home every day, either. As much as he liked spending time with his new uncle and Dr. Bondevik – he was starting to wonder if Dr. Bondevik was Uncle Matthias' 'wife' like Tino was to Berwald, but he wasn't sure how to go about asking that sort of question.

Dr. Bondevik smiled, Uncle Matthias had turned his attention back to the TV after giving a non-committal approving noise, "that sounds like a really good idea, Peter." Dr. Bondevik said he would tell Berwald when he saw him at work and would call the school in his district to set it up. Peter nodded, he didn't really care about the details, he was too busy thinking about Matthias and the doctor and Tino.

"Is there something else on your mind?"

He couldn't hold it in, although he tried really hard, "are you Uncle Matthias' wife?"

The shade of red Dr. Bondevik turned was startling. Matthias tore his eyes away from the TV and stared at Peter, his mouth twitching, and Peter was suddenly afraid he was going to get yelled at. Then, Matthias threw his head back and laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. Dr. Bondevik covered his mouth with one of his hands and glared at Matthias, his expression unreadable to Peter. Peter looked between the two, unsure of why his question had caused such a mixed reaction.

"Yeah!" Uncle Matthias settled enough to respond, wiping tears from his eyes.

"I beg your pardon?" Dr. Bondevik said darkly, lowering the hand from his face and clenching it into a fist. "I most certainly am not your wife."

"Well, you should be."

An eerie silence descended upon the dining room and Peter felt like he ought to leave, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself, either. Both doctors were staring at each other with such intensity, he wondered if he could sneak away without either of them noticing. He started to slide off his chair when Dr. Bondevik said, "where do you think you're going?" without even turning to face him. Peter froze and looked to Uncle Matthias with pleading eyes.

"Go ahead, Peter," Matthias said, also not looking at him, but he was smiling. "You can go wash up."

Now Peter was confused. Should he listen to the pediatrician with the frightening expression currently on his face or his uncle? He made a weird nose in his throat, hoping someone would clarify.

The telephone rang and Peter jumped out of his seat crying out, "I'll get it!" He tore into the hall where the phone was and picked it up.

"Hello?" He said, peering around the corner a the two doctors still sitting and staring at each other in the dining room.

"Peter? Hello! This is Mrs. Perrin," Peter turned away from the adults and blinked.

"Hello, Mrs. Perrin," he wasn't sure he wanted to hear from her, his social worker. Whenever she was around something bad always seemed to happen. She asked Peter how he was doing and he answered that he was very well, thank you. "Is your foster father there? May I speak to him, please?"

"No, I am sorry, he is not home right now."

"What about Tino?"

"No, he's not here right now, either."

"Peter," she said, her voice concerned, "are there any adults with you?"

"Yes," he said, peering back around to look at Uncle Matthias and Dr. Bondevik in the dining room. Uncle Matt had reached out and was holding Dr. Bondevik's hand, whose face was a violent shade of red. "My Uncle Matthias is here." She asked to speak with him. He wanted to tell her that he seemed a little bit busy with Dr. Bondevik, but the tone in her voice made him keep his mouth shut. Instead he said, "okay," and hugged the receiver to his chest, tip-toeing back to the table.

"Uncle Matt? Mrs. Perrin is on the phone, she wants to speak with you." Matthias turned to face Peter, a confused expression on his face as he took the phone from Peter and put it to his ear.

"Hello?" He said, "Yes, I'm his uncle... No, his foster father is away right now... No, everything is fine. There was an accident..." Peter decided he didn't want to hear the rest of the conversation so excused himself and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

When he was done spitting he almost jumped out of his skin when he saw Dr. Bondevik standing behind him in the mirror. He whirled around.

"I'm a man," was all he said before spinning on his heel and marching away. Peter heard the front door slam shut, and Matthias laughing before saying, "no, sorry Mrs. Perrin, what you said wasn't funny, I was laughing at something here... no, no, I am taking this seriously, I promise."

On Friday just Uncle Matthias was in the kitchen.

After breakfast he asked, "do you want to go to the hospital today to visit Berwald and Tino?" Peter nodded. He was starting to go crazy spending so much time in the small apartment and he missed Dr. O.

He brushed his teeth and stood in front of his closet and tried to decide what to wear. He never used to think about what he was going to wear, he never really had the chance, he'd never had so many options before. In the end he picked his old play sailor outfit.

It reminded him of the hospital and felt oddly appropriate.

While Uncle Matthias cleaned up the kitchen, Peter decided to draw Tino and Berwald a picture. He sat at the dining room table and tried to draw, it was a little more difficult now with only one arm, his paper kept slipping out from under his prosthetic hand. He drew himself and Dr. O standing outside of a hospital. Then, he drew Uncle Matthias and Dr. Bondevik on one side (Dr. Bondevik had a cross pin in his hair and his face was coloured red, because Peter thought it was pretty funny when he thought about Thursday morning). On the other side he tried to draw Tino, but he couldn't remember exactly how he looked, so it didn't turn out as good as Peter had hoped. He looked at his work for a bit before he hastily added Emil on the side – he had been pretty nice the day him and Uncle Matthias had gone shopping. Even if he did dress funny.

He gave everyone capes, because they were all supposed to be superheros, and then titled it 'My New Family' across the top.

Then, they drove to the hospital.

Peter held on to Uncle Matthias' hand while they walked through the halls towards Tino's room. It was weird not being in the Pediatric Ward, where things looked familiar and the staff seemed friendlier. Where the adults stayed felt so somber.

Mathias stopped at a door and looked down at Peter, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Ready?" he asked. Peter took a deep breath and nodded. Uncle Matthias pushed open the door.


To be continued...


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