Chapter 14

When Duck woke up the next morning, he raced into the bathroom and lost what little he'd eaten over the past few days. He leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. He felt the cool tiles against his back and they quickly heated up from his body heat.

"Montague?"

Marianne opened the door and stepped inside. She looked worriedly at him.

"Are you alright?"

"Uh uh…"

Duck felt his stomach turn and he turned and threw up again in the trash can. Marianne rubbed his back soothingly.

"It's okay…"

Duck finally stopped and he rested his face in his arms.

"Ugh…"

"Are you sure you're okay enough to go see Oliver, today?" Marianne asked in concern.

"Yes, I'm fine! I wanna see him! I need to see him!"

"...If you insist, son. We'll be waiting downstairs."

Duck quickly regained his breath, and stood up to regain his composure. Quickly putting on some fresh clothes, he laced up his shoes and threw on his successfully cleaned jacket. He slowly made his way down the stairs, gripping the railing. Toad immediately jumped into his arms, and Duck almost fell back against the steps.

"Toad," Miles said gently, pulling the eight year old away, "go easy on him. He's not feeling very well."

Toad cocked his head.

"Is that why Mister Duck was so warm?"

"Yes, lad. Duck is a bit...unwell."

"Montague, are you sure you want to see Oliver?" Marianne asked again, as she zipped up her jacket.

"For the millionth time, yes."

"I'll drive, Marianne," Miles said as he opened up the front door.

They all quickly got in the green mustang, and Miles blasted the heat.

"Be careful," Marianne said, pulling her long, blonde hair into a ponytail, "this car is god awful in the snow."

"Why did we get this car again?"

"Because, we needed one," Marianne said, as if it were obvious.

"I know that, but, why get a car thats horrible in the snow?"

"I suppose we just didn't think too much about it."

Miles looked up in the rearview mirror.

"It's about time we get you your own car, lad. You have anything in mind?"

Duck looked up in thought.

"Well...something with a four wheel drive would be nice. And good gas mileage...and it has to be green."

Miles chuckled.

"You do like green, don't you?"

"I love green. And you should, too."

Duck's stomach lurched again and he quickly covered it up with both arms.

Marianne saw what was going on, eyed him with concern and let the matter rest. Toad leaned into Duck's arm.

"You'll be okay, Mister Duck...won't you?"

Duck smiled slightly and pulled him closer.

"Of course I will. I'm just a little sick. It'll pass when it's ready."

"Toad, stay on your side of the car," Marianne said as the car stopped in front of some railroad tracks and the gates went down, "we don't want you to catch what he has."

Toad obediently scooted back over to his seat. Duck watched the train come into view, and his eyes widened a little bit when he saw the engine. A familiar, little blue E2 passed by, whistle ringing loud and proud. The engine was pulling a train of ballast. The number one on the boiler was bold, even on the snowy, freezing day. Duck could see Thomas from the open cab and wanted to wave, but knew Thomas wouldn't be able to see him, so he didn't. The train quickly passed, the gates opened up, and the car pressed on. Toad leaned over the front seat.

"Are we there yet?"

"About ten minutes, dear," Marianne replied.

"Cinders and ashes, this snow is horrible," Miles said, turning up the windshield wipers to a higher level, "I can hardly see a thing."

"Just keep going, Miles."

Duck felt bile rise up again, and he covered his mouth.

I'll be fine. I'll be fine. I'll be fine. Don't think, don't think, don't think.

He swallowed what was coming up and tried to soothe his pounding headache. After what seemed like centuries, they pulled up to the Sodor Medical Center, and parked. They quickly walked into the lobby, and were met by immediate warmth. While Miles was talking to the person at the front desk, Marianne grabbed her son's arm.

"Son, I'm going to tell you this now. I probably should have told you this earlier, but, it slipped my mind."

"What is it?"

"Oliver is scheduled to talk to the police today over what happened. Since you'll be there, too, I can guarantee they'll want to talk to you as well. You need to be one hundred percent honest, capiche?"

"Okay, Mum."

Miles said a quick thank you to the employee and walked up to them.

"He's on the sixth floor, room seven. Let's go."

The ride up the elevator was mostly silent, except for the annoying elevator music. Once they reached the sixth floor, Duck turned back to his family.

"Can I...Can I just get a few minutes alone with him? Then, you guys can come in."

"Of course, son," Miles said, laying both of his hands on Toad's shoulders, "we'll wait out here."

Duck watched them walk off and leaned against the door frame. Oliver was lying in the bed, all scratched up and heavily bruised, eyes closed. There was an IV in his harm, and a blood pressure tube hooked up to his other arm. There was a large white bandage thing, or something Duck couldn't determine, wrapped around his stomach. He was covered up and looked perfectly content, even though they both knew he was far from it. Duck took a deep breath and knocked on the open door.

"Oliver?"

Oliver opened his eyes. The green orbs looked so clouded and so hurt and so defeated that Duck almost didn't recognize them.

But...Oliver smiled.

"Duck…"

Duck found his feet take over and in seconds Oliver was in his arms. Oliver hissed a little from the pain, but hugged back as tightly as he could. Once they separated, Duck pulled up a chair. He stretched out his hand, and Oliver gratefully took it. Their fingers intertwined, and Duck forgot all about being sick.

Until Oliver brought it up.

"Why's your hand so hot?"

Duck quickly thought of an excuse.

"It was really hot in the car; Dad really blasted the heat."

Oliver accepted the excuse, nodding.

Duck squeezed his hand.

"So...how'd the operation go?"

"It went fine…" Oliver said quietly, "the doctor said I flatlined twice on the table, but, I'm okay. I'm lucky because the bullet barely missed my stomach intestines...it didn't hit anything important. It was about an inch from my liver...and if it had been hit it would've killed me."

Duck shook his head, thanking every god out there that the bullet had missed. Thanking his lucky stars that Oliver, through six years of abuse, being shot and flatlining twice on an operation table...had survived.

"You're immortal," Duck whispered.

"Thank god I'm not," Oliver chuckled sadly, squeezing Duck's hand again.

Duck leaned over the bed and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I don't know how the bloody hell you did it, but...you've survived everything that's been thrown at you for six years."

"I'm just doing what I was put here to do," Oliver replied, looking up at him, "to watch over my little brother. I thought, 'If nobody would do it then...who will?'"

Duck shook his head again, planting another kiss on his head.

"But, Ollie, you were hurt nonstop for six years by your father, you went to school and took care of Toad. You take care of him, but...who is there to take care of you?"

Oliver sighed and looked down.

"I can take care of myself. I'm not the little kid I was back home. I had to grow up. And I grew up because I knew that's what Toad needed. He needed someone to look after him, and unfortunately for us, our parents weren't capable of doing that. So, I became his parent instead of the older brother I always dreamed of being."

Duck sighed shakily, pulling Oliver into an embrace.

"Are you okay?" Oliver asked in concern, "you're like a furnace."

"Don't worry about me."

"Duck, if you've made yourself sick over this, I'm gonna worry."

"I'm surprised you haven't made yourself sick," Duck muttered.

But, Duck wrapped an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders, ignoring Oliver's demands to why he felt so hot.

Until…

"Hold on a sec, Ollie."

Duck stood and casually walked over to the trash can by the door. Picking it up quickly, he threw up again, stomach burning with pain.

"Duck?!" Oliver screeched, trying to reach for him, "are you okay?!"

Duck set the trash can down when he was done, brushed himself off, then went and sat down by Oliver again. Oliver handed him a bottle.

"Here-drink some water."

Duck took a few gulps from the bottle then set it down, moving his arm back around Oliver.

"Uh...sorry about that. I'm not feeling too well."

"God, Duck, you should be at home. You're in no condition to be here."

Duck shook his head in disbelief and brought Oliver's chin up so they were staring at each other.

"Since you were ten, you've put up with abuse. Since you were ten, you were forced to grow up. Since you were ten, you took the blow for your brother, letting that bastard hurt you instead of him."

Oliver gulped.

"Yeah. And? Why're you crying?"

Duck didn't realize he was until he felt the hot, droplets of water cascade down his face. He hurriedly wiped at them.

"I-I'm crying because I wasn't there to protect you, and because I-I'm so sorry that you had to go through that for years. For taking it on yourself and keeping Toad safe...my god, Ollie, I-I'm just...I'm just so proud of you."

Oliver smiled up at him, tears glistening in his own eyes.

"T-Thanks...I-I'm proud of me, too. And you understand why I-I never told you or anybody...right?"

"Yeah...but I'm not proud of you for that."

The both of them laughed as Duck pulled Oliver closer to his side.

"I love you, Ollie...so much. Don't listen to all those horrible things that bastard said to you. You are not, and never were, any of the things he ever called you."

Oliver sighed in a bliss, leaning his head on the other's shoulder.

"Thanks, I know...and I love you, too."

They were silent for awhile.

"Were you scared?" Oliver suddenly asked, "when you came to get me?"

"Scared? Oliver, I was terrified! I saw all that blood and I just thought you left me…there was a armed guy in the house and he hurt you. When I saw all that blood, I was terrified that he'd killed you...and I was terrified of what I would do if he had."

Duck stared down at him, golden eyes warm with comfort.

"I can only imagine how you felt."

Oliver smiled sadly as Duck pulled him closer.

"At that point," he said in a thick voice, "I just wish he would've killed me."

"Don't talk like that."

"I'm sorry, but I just got so sick of it...but, I'm so happy I'm alive, and that you are too. I just still can't believe you shot him."

Duck smiled fondly.

"Anybody who messes with MY Ollie is going to get taken down. Anybody who messes with you will always mess with me."

Oliver turned a bright pink and only nodded two separated, and Duck smiled at him.

"Toad and my parents are here. Do you want to see them?"

"Of course...does Toad know what happened?"

"No, all he knows is that I was missing for a few days, and you've been getting taken care of."

"Wait," Oliver said, sitting up in alarm, "you went missing for a few days? Why? What happened?"

Duck looked down at his lap.

"It's kind of a long story…"

"I've got time."

"Don't you want to see your brother?"

"Of course I do. But, what's a few more minutes? Tell me what happened."

Duck sighed deeply.

"Well...after you were taken into operation, I called Dad to make sure he was okay, which he was. I was in a lot of shock after what happened at your house, and I really wasn't acting like myself. Dad wanted to come and pick me up, but I insisted on me taking the ten o' clock train to Arlesburgh."

"Okay. Then what?"

"Well...I boarded the train, and I was feeling really dizzy, and I almost couldn't see correctly. I then realized that I still had the gun in my pocket, and I saw your blood all over my hands from earlier. So, I was walking down the sidewalk from the station to get back home, and I just...collapsed."

"You passed out?"

"Yeah. Luckily, Donald and Douglas found me on their way back to their car, and they carried me the car and took me to their place. Their Mum is a nurse, and the first time I woke up, they told me that I had a pretty bad concussion from hitting my head on the sidewalk. The second time I woke up, I was running a really high fever, and I honestly still am. The twins were really worried; they didn't want me to end up in the hospital either."

"You have a concussion and a fever...there's a blizzard happening outside...and you're here."

"Of course I am. It'll pass, don't worry."

"Well, how's your head? You must've hit it pretty hard."

"I did, but I'm fine. The twins took good care of me."

Oliver smiled.

"I'll have to thank them later. Oh, and why weren't you at school the other day?"

Duck stared down at him.

"You didn't hear?"

"Hear what?"

Duck chuckled sheepishly.

"Well...Diesel, this kid I really hate was saying some mean things about you. And he's been mean to me since we moved out here, so...I kind of got in a fight with him...and I may or may not have gotten a suspension."

"You got suspended?"

"Yeah, my parents were surprised, too."

Oliver laughed, leaning back against the pillows.

"That's hilarious. You're not the goody-goody that you used to be."

"Oh, shut up," Duck smirked, walking toward the door, "like you haven't changed either."

Duck turned back to him.

"Are you feeling better?"

"I've had a few days to recover now, so, yes, I'm feeling better."

"Ollie…"

"What?"

"Don't lie to me."

Oliver froze up for a brief second, before looking down.

"How the bloody hell did you know?"

"I always know what you're thinking. Now, how are you truly feeling?"

Oliver looked back up, tears building up again.

"How the bloody hell do you think I feel? My own father shot me! And he's hurt me since I was ten! All because Mum-"

But, Oliver stopped himself, tears spilling over and landing Duck in a mist of confusion.

"What's your Mum have to do with this?"

Oliver sighed shakily, wiping at his tears.

"N-Not here...I'll tell you once were home, o-okay?"

"Okay, Ollie. I understand. I'm gonna go get Toad and my parents now."

Oliver nodded and Duck walked into the hall to get them.

"You guys can come in now, but, be gentle. He's not doing so well."

The four of them walked into the room and before anybody could say a word, Toad jumped on his older brother.

"Mister Oliver!" Toad cried gleefully, "Mister Oliver! I missed you! I missed you so much!"

Oliver smiled slightly, hugging him close to his chest.

"I missed you, too, Toad. Have you been good?"

He looked up at Marianne.

"Has he been good?"

Marianne smiled.

"He's been very good, yes. How are you, dear?"

Oliver's smile dropped.

"Bad," he said quietly. "But...I'll be okay."

Marianne nodded understandingly and hugged him.

"I'm so sorry, hon. If there's anything we can do for you…"

Oliver looked up at her.

"Actually, there's one thing…"

"Tell us lad, we'll do it for you," Miles cut in.

"Is there any way….you could drop by my house and get all my art supplies and my sketchbooks? I'm so bored here."

Miles and Marianne both nodded.

"Of course," Miles said, "in fact, we can go get it right now. Where are they?"

"Everything is under my bed...but I'm not sure if the room has been cleaned yet, so...be careful."

Miles nodded, and began to walk out.

"I'll come with you," Marianne said, standing, "be good, boys. We'll be back soon."

The two of them exited, leaving Duck, Oliver and Toad all alone. Toad hugged Oliver, burying his face in his older brother's neck.

"You've been gone awhile, Mister Oliver. You were gone one night, then Mister Duck fell and he was gone and I got lonely….why're you here, Mister Oliver?"

Oliver sighed shakily, his heart pounding with fear and images of that horrible night flashed through his memory.

But, Toad was his little brother.

He always deserved to know.

Oliver pulled up his sleeve, revealing several bruises along his arm.

Duck's eyes went wider than dinner plates.

"Toad, do you know what these are?" Oliver asked, trying to keep his voice level.

Toad cocked his head.

"They look just like the ones you have all over your back."

"WHAT?" Duck demanded shrilly.

But Oliver ignored him as he continued to explain to his little brother.

"These are called bruises. When somebody gets hurt, a bruise is usually left behind. For many years, Toad, our father...he hit me. And he shouldn't have been doing that. When he hit me...he left one of these behind."

Toad cocked his head. He had known for a long time that Oliver was getting hurt, but he never figured out why.

"But...why did he hit you, Mister Oliver? Were you bad?"

"Absolutely not," Duck cut in, eyes flashing, "Toad, your father was very unhealthy. He didn't think normally, didn't act normally...he had a very sick mind."

"But...why does he have a sick mind?"

"Some people are just born that way, taught that way or just learn that way," Duck explained gently, trying to help Oliver out, "your father thought by hurting someone smaller than him, your brother to be exact, he was more powerful. Your father was a lot stronger, and since Ollie was a lot smaller and weaker than him...your father could very easily hurt him, because he knew Oliver couldn't fight back. Do you understand?"

"I...I think so, Mister Duck," Toad said quietly, as tears started to fill his grey eyes, "h-how come he only hurt you, Mister Oliver?"

"Because I refused to let him hurt you," Oliver said lowly, pulling Toad closer, "I wasn't going to stand back and let him treat you the way he treats me. You didn't deserve it."

"Neither did you!" Toad squeaked, beginning to cry, "M-Mister Oliver, why did you let him do this to you? W-Why didn't you tell Mister Duck?"

"Because Duck could've gotten hurt, too," Oliver explained quietly, "if I told anybody what was going on, you or Duck could've been hurt or killed, and I refused to let that happen."

"But he almost killed you!" Duck suddenly exclaimed, feeling more waterworks coming on.

"But, he didn't," Oliver said with a tiny smile, "you said it yourself, earlier. I'm immortal."

Duck hurriedly shook his head.

"M-Mister Oliver...h-he tried to kill you?" Toad whispered, more tears raining down, "w-what does that mean?"

The other boys looked at each other, contemplating what to say.

"Well…" Oliver said quietly, searching for the right words, "Dad...had this...weapon, and that weapon...could really hurt...or kill...people with it. Dad tried to take my life, meaning if that weapon had succeeded in hitting something important...I would've gone to sleep and never woken up."

"But, sleep is good, Mister Oliver!" Toad said, eyes wide, "you do that when you're tired! It's normal! And I know because I do it, too! And so does Mister Duck!"

"But this sleep is eternal, Toad," Duck said quietly, "Oliver wouldn't wake up. Ever. You'd never see him again. Nobody would."

Toad looked at his older brother, tears still swimming in his eyes.

"Are you awake, Mister Oliver?"

Oliver stared back at him for a minute.

"Of course I am."

"So, when you go back to sleep...you'll wake up again...right? I don't want Mister Oliver to go away again."

Oliver smiled, squeezing his little brother.

"I promise, Toad…I'll always wake up."