I lifted Jack into the back of Mekiah's SUV, and got in the back with him. He was laying across the seat with his bleeding head in my lap. I was pressing the blood soaked towel against his bleeding head as hard as I could to try to stop the bleeding. I looked at Jack's face, but his eyes were squeezed shut. I ran my thumb across the scar on his forehead and he opened his eyes. I could see his crystal blue eyes well up with tears when his gaze caught mine.

I smiled at him, and he forced a smile back. "Dudes dig scars, too... right, Mark? I guess I will have another one," he whispered, a tear sliding out of the corner of his eye.

I chuckled lightly and nodded my head. "Just another reason for me to touch you more, Jackaboy." I wiped his tear away. "No worries, okay? I'm here. They are just going to stitch you up and you will be as good as new."

Jack closed his eyes. "NO! Jack, you need to open your eyes. Look at me, focus on me. If you have a concussion, you can't go to sleep, or it may be coma city for you again. Please don't do that to me."

Jack opened his eyes. "So tired, Mark..." he said, and I could tell he was struggling hard to stay awake.

"Sit up," I told him, and I pushed him upright easily. I hadn't changed form yet, and he was like a feather. "You will be less likely to fall asleep if you are sitting up." I continued to apply pressure to his head.

"My head hurts really badly, Mark," Jack said to me, wincing a little as he fidgeted to get comfortable.

"I know, baby. I know."

We arrived at the hospital, and I changed out of Nephilim form before we went in. I had to struggle to help Jack walk into the emergency room, even with Mekiah helping from the other side. Everything feels ten times heavier after I change back to normal Mark.

We sat Jack down in a chair, and I went to get him checked in. I approached the reception desk. "I have brought someone in that has a very nasty head injury. He needs stitches and may have a concussion," I told the woman behind the desk as I handed her Jack's ID and insurance cards. She nodded and began typing.

"I see he has been here before. Last year. Is all of his information the same? Address and phone number the same?" She asked.

"YES! Can you please help him? He is bleeding very badly!" I snapped at her, looking down at the blood covering my right hand. I raised it up and her eyes widened as if she didn't believe he needed stitches, but understood the severity of the situation now. She picked up a phone, and moments later two employees came out to the waiting room with a wheelchair.

I rushed over to them and helped Jack get into the wheelchair. "Mark?" Jack said, looking at me with fear in his eyes.

"I'm right here," I said, and took his hand with my left, not wanting to smear his hand with more blood.

Jack looked at one employee and said "Can he come with me? Please? I need him to come with me..." His eyes were pleading with the man.

"Of course he can," the man said, smiling at Jack, then he nodded at me. I saw Jack visibly relax a little. "Can you tell me what happened?" the man asked as he started wheeling Jack toward a hallway into the emergency room.

"I wiped out on my skateboard. Cracked my melon on the concrete," Jack said, squeezing my hand. I gave a little squeeze back for reassurance.

The hospital staff began working immediately, cleaning Jack's wound and giving him medicine. "What are you giving me? Jack asked as the nurse jammed a long needle into Jack's arm.

"This one is an anti-inflammatory. It will help reduce swelling and inflammation, and it will help with the pain. This one," he said as he held up an equally long needle, "is Demerol. It is for pain. You will feel pretty great in just a minute," the man said, and I saw a smile drift across Jack's face and his eyes cross just for a split second. His entire body relaxed and he had a goofy look on his face. I knew the Demerol started working, and I laughed at Jack's reaction.

Jack started mumbling some incoherent babble, then he started giggling. "lurve ya, Merk!" he slurred, and his accent got very thick and pronounced. I couldn't help but to giggle at him. "I love you too, ya nutjob," I told him, and he giggled.

A man in a white coat walked in. He was tall, with red-brown hair, green eyes and very fair skin. He had freckles peppered across his nose and cheeks, and he seemed to be barely 30 years old. I assumed he was a doctor, though, and I was right. The nurse was right behind him, wheeling in a cart. Both men started pulling gloves on. The nurse was setting up supplies on the cart, opening packages and preparing for Jack to get sewn back together.

"Hi, I'm Dr. O'Casey," the man said with a distinct Irish accent. Jack's face lit up, and his eyes got wide. He smiled brightly. "Are you... Jack McLoughlin?" He asked, looking at the ID bracelet on Jack's wrist.

"BY JAYSUS, I sure am! How the hell are ya, doc?!" Jack said loudly. The doctor smiled.

"Well I'll be a badger's arse! Another Irishman! It's lovely to meet ya!" the doctor replied, also smiling sincerely. "Let's see what's going on with ya, lad! What did ya do to yerself?"

The doctor pulled out a small flashlight and looked into Jack's pupils, studying them carefully. Jack told the man he had fallen while skateboarding, and the man chuckled lightly. "Never a dull moment, huh, Jack?" Jack was beaming.

"Well, let's get ya stitched up, then, by god," he said, walking behind Jack. He looked at me and asked "are you immediate family?"

"Uh... no. Do you need me to leave?" I asked, and I heard Jack let out a little whimper and whispered "Mark, no, please..."

The doctor looked at Jack, then looked down and noticed his hand gripping mine. His face softened for a second, then smiled and said "It's okay. You can stay." The doctor then rolled up his left sleeve to reveal a small tattoo of a rainbow colored flag just above the crook of his elbow. He winked at me. Jack couldn't see it because the man was standing behind him. I nodded in understanding and thanked him.

The doctor made quick work of closing up the gash on Jack's head. I saw Jack wince a few times, but when I asked him if it hurt, he said no, he just felt weird pressure.

Once he was done, the doctor told us it took twenty two stitches to get the wound closed. He told us that he thinks Jack may have a small concussion, but nothing to be overly alarmed about. He advised me to make sure Jack didn't go to sleep for at least four more hours. He also advised me of some things to watch for, then said his farewells and left the room.

"He was awesome," I told Jack. "He let me stay, when he should have made me leave."

"Why?" Jack asked. "Why would he break the rules for you, for us?"

I told Jack about his gay pride tattoo, and a warm smile spread across his lovely face.

The nurse came in with Jack's discharge papers and wound care instructions. "UGH! this again?!" I moaned.

"You have done this before?" he asked, and I told him about last year, about Jack's coma, about his broken arm and leg, and the many, many stitches he had in his head and belly.

"Oh! So you're the famous Jack! Kara still talks about you to this very day!" he said and chuckled.

"Is Kara here today?" Jack asked.

"She sure is. She is up in ICU. I could call her down if you would like to say hi," he said cheerily.

"I would love to, but I don't want to bother her."

"Oh, I assure you, it won't be a bother," he said, already pressing his cell to his ear. "Kara, could you come down to the ER, triage room 9, please. I have a patient I need you to see... Yeah... No, he isn't critical, but it is kind of important you see him. Okay, see you in five."

The nurse looked at Jack and smiled. "Kara is on her way down."

Jack and I smiled at each other.