Transient

A persistent weight across his body was the first thing Alfred was aware of. Slowly, as thought of care and concern returned to his fogged mind, Alfred began to realize the pressure was uncomfortable, unrelenting, threatening to suffocate him-

No.

No.

He was alright.

His sensitive nerves were aware of the presence against his skin, a lighter presence, noninvasive, meant to comfort, to warm, to conceal him from the world and all its hurts. A blanket. Yes, it was a blanket. And that pressure, now blessedly subsiding, was simply the ache of his own body. But from what?

A flash and several loud bangs. Screams. But why did he ache?

Desperate violet eyes looking on in horror. Matching his own petrified sapphire. But not petrified for long. Because until he knew his loved one was safe, Alfred couldn't stop moving, he had to act until his dying breath.

But God, it felt like every breath could be his dying breath. A groan escaped him as Alfred made the mistake of trying to move, every atom of his being screaming in protest. Movement around him. A large, freezing hand clutching his own in a shaky grasp.

The blurred image of Ivan Braginsky swam into his vision. His glasses gone, Alfred could see enough to distinguish the pallid look to Ivan's face, the mingling relief and distress creasing his brown, sending shudders through his bones.

Still feeling as if he were wading through a dense fog capable of gripping him and dragging him down, Alfred managed a shaky smile. Ivan, above him, looked too captivated by the sight of his loved one finally awake to do much else. However, never breaking eye contact with Alfred, he raised a shaking hand, middle and ring finger pressed to his palm, thumb, index, and fifth finger extended.

I love you.

You too, Alfred mouthed without a sound. He wanted to sign it, but even suggesting to his arm that it should move sent a leaden pain down the limb.

At last, Ivan returned the smile, still looking ashen and frightened. Still jittery, he began signing to Alfred. I am so glad you are okay. You pushed me out of the way, you should not have done that, Alfred.

At this, Alfred had to cut in. I couldn't just let you get hurt. His arms felt too heavy to move with particular vehemence, but facial expressions provided all the tone signing needed.

This did not assuage Ivan's worry. Unlike Alfred, he was in perfect condition to sign angrily, and though the sound of his skin slapping against itself went unheard to Alfred, it was easy to tell just how upset Ivan was. I almost lost you! Alfred, you were touch and go for so long, and you are still in ICU. Ivan fingerspelled the letters again. I. C. U. Do you understand? You are stable but still in critical care. And I-

Ivan doubled over, lowering his hands to hug himself. Alfred watched with an aching heart as Ivan's shoulders rose and fell in a quavering breath. And I had to wait and wait, and even now the doctors will make me leave soon and I will have to wait and wait again while you are alone, and I cannot-

Face twisting in pain, Alfred raised his hands to get Ivan's attention. Taking sharp, shallow breaths, Alfred replied simply, Come here. He opened his arms. Ivan hesitated, looking warily at the needles and bandages covering Alfred. When Alfred remained steadfast, Ivan drew close, sinking gratefully but gratefully into Alfred's comforting embrace. This was wrong, Ivan thought bitterly, even as he melted against Alfred's fragile frame. This was wrong…he ought to be the one comforting Alfred, not the other way around…

Alfred petted Ivan's hair, even hospitalized always looking for an excuse to caress the locks he loved so much. He pointed at the both of them, then around the room, and fingerspelled O. K. O. K. Everything was okay, everything was fine.

Ivan gave a tremulous nod before sinking back against Alfred, relishing in the feel of Alfred here, breathing, warm, all beating heart and pumping veins. He only detached at the sound of a nurse approaching, informing him that he would have to go for a bit, Alfred needed rest. Ivan gave a small nod, drinking in one last prolonged look at Alfred, interpreting what the nurse had said, and promising he would be back as soon as he could. They exchanged a surreptitious sign of I love you and smiles impossible to hide, before Ivan excused himself. Alfred sat back, feeling tired, aching, and still weighed down. The room around him had spun a few times during Ivan's brief visit, darkening occasionally, sometimes brightening. Grimacing, he made himself sit up in bed. The sooner he got himself back up to full health, the sooner he could go home with Ivan.

As he fought the dizziness and a few waves of nausea, Alfred watched as his doctor gathered coworkers into the hall. For anyone else, it might have been difficult to figure out what was being said, but Alfred had learned early on how to read lips with high proficiency.

Everyone was stony faced.

The test results came back. Mr. Jones will likely not make it through the night. The damage is too severe, even with every available option, his body is falling apart before we can heal it all. Any more work will likely cause further damage. We'll need to alert…

Alfred had stopped looking, eyes staring ahead in mounting horror.

No.

No.

But Ivan…he had told Ivan…

Alfred did not hear his own broken cries as he tried to get someone's attention. He did not feel the mounting ache in his arms as he furiously signed to the swarm of nurses that they needed to find Ivan and bring him back, that they needed to help him, help Ivan, help them both, please, won't someone understand, just find him, find Ivan…

Alfred did not hear the quickening tempo of his heart monitor as the strain of his desperate pleas took a toll on his body. He did not hear or see the flatline correspond with his exhausted collapse atop the bed with doctors and nurses working frantically, knowing it was in vain.

Ivan left Room 303 with Alfred in it. Ivan entered Room 303 without Alfred in it.

THE END