Killian barely gave the sliding glass doors time to open before he walked into the building. He saw Ruby sitting in the corner, legs crossed, her jacket in her lap.
"What happened?"
Ruby dabbed at her eyes, waterproof makeup still in tact. "I went over there and he was unconscious. I wanted to wait until they got him situated and stable before I called you. They said, um, they said it's an overdose? Maybe? He's breathing on his own but they're giving him oxygen."
"Is he conscious?"
Ruby shook her head.
Killian sat down next to her and felt numb. He covered his hands with his eyes and wanted to cry. It was simple: this was his fault. If he had stayed last night, if he had stayed this morning, if he had heard Jefferson out, none of them would be here. Most importantly Jefferson would be okay.
Ruby put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.
After a minute, he looked at her. His eyes were red and glassy. "Can I see him?"
"Sure."
They stood to their feet, the clicks from Ruby's heels echoing throughout the lobby. They walked down the narrow hallway to the ICU. Jefferson was in bed 10.
He looked so peaceful under the florescent lighting, his skin pale against the bleached sheets of his hospital bed. He wore a gown and a nasal cannula. His vitals were fine: 12 breaths per minute, heart rate 68, blood pressure 112/82.
Killian took in a deep breath. It was hard to see him like this. It looked like he was only sleeping. He looked innocent, like a child, face round and dark eyelashes a contrast against his skin. Killian reached out, trailing his fingers along Jefferson's forearm.
"You can go," he said softly, head turned slightly in Ruby's direction. "Thanks for staying with him."
"You'll call me if anything changes?"
Killian nodded. When Ruby left he moved the pathetically uncomfortable, plastic chair that had been against the wall to the side of Jefferson's bed. The tiny ICU was excruciating, cold and sterile. The television on the wall played some daytime television show that no one paid attention to. It was just background noise. Bed 10 was in close enough proximity to the nurses' station that the smell of burnt coffee lingered in the air beneath the smell of latex-free gloves and antiseptic.
He watched Jefferson sleep for a long time, resting an arm and his head on the plastic railing alongside the bed. Seeing Jefferson like this was surreal. He looked so small, so innocent, so untroubled. Killian reached down for Jefferson's hand, limp but still warm, and intertwined their fingers loosely. Jefferson's skin was soft against the callouses of his own.
Killian wanted to say something. He wanted to apologize, but he wanted to wait until Jefferson was awake—he wouldn't be the person who talked to the unconscious or brain-dead patient. Instead he would wait until Jefferson woke to tell him exactly how he felt.
He lifted Jefferson's hand to his lips and kissed the back of it softly before embarrassment washed over him and he dropped it almost immediately. He smiled sadly at Jefferson, wishing things had gone so differently. He wanted him to be okay. He needed him to be okay.
"Killian?"
His head snapped to the side to find Ruby there with Dr. Whale who was dressed in green scrubs and a lab coat with a stethoscope dangling around his neck.
"I thought you were leaving," Killian replied, standing to his feet.
"I was on my way out when I ran into Doctor Whale. It thought you might want to talk to him." She turned and left once more, leaving the two of them alone.
Whale looked at Jefferson guiltily. Killian wondered why.
"So it's an overdose," Whale began, fiddling with the file in his hand. "Cocaine. I'm not sure if you knew about his drug problem."
Killian nodded; he knew all too well.
"He was dehydrated when he came in, heart racing, high blood pressure. He was unconscious when Ruby found him. We gave him sodium bicarbonate to slow his heart, saline drip to replace some of the fluids he lost."
"And the—?" Killian gestured to his nose.
"His blood oxygen was a little low when he came in, nothing out of the ordinary. We'll probably keep him in here for a couple days and then move him to a regular room. I don't know if rehabilitation is something he'd be interested in but we've got resources for that, too."
"So he should be...?"
"He should be fine," Whale nodded. He left then, his tennis shoes squeaking on the freshly waxed floors.
Killian collapsed into the hard chair as a wave of relief washed over him. He felt better but his stomach still churned with guilt. Had he stayed last night, had he stayed this morning, had he not walked away, Jefferson would be conscious and okay. Part of him was angry that Jefferson fucked someone else, but they could get past that. He knew they could. He didn't even want to know who it was at this point. He just wanted Jefferson to wake up, to promise never to pull anything like this ever again.
The hours ticked by. Killian dozed in and out of consciousness himself, leaning against the arm of Jefferson's bed when he needed to nod off and holding Jefferson's hand when he could manage to keep his eyes open. He worried about going to the bathroom and leaving Jefferson's bedside and when he needed to, he tracked down Jefferson's nurse and asked her to stay as he went.
Before he knew it, the sun had set and it was seven o'clock. He settled into his small plastic chair, leaning over the side of Jefferson's bed. He was just dozing off, his fingers still intertwined with Jefferson's, until he heard the clacking of heels at the glass door behind him. He turned to see Ruby standing there holding a bag of delicious-smelling food.
"Hey," she said softly, offering him a smile.
Killian looked at her but couldn't find the gumption to return the smile.
"I brought you dinner." She took a step in and handed him the bag. "Still no change?"
He looked over at Jefferson still sleeping soundly and shook his head. "No. The doctor says he'll be fine, though, so. I figure he'll just sleep it off and be awake in a day or two. Thank you for the food. I haven't eaten since this morning."
Ruby nodded. "Do you want me to stay with him while you go eat? I'm sure you could use a break."
Killian looked at Jefferson once more, hesitant to leave him.
"I'll get you right away if he wakes up. Go," she said, shooing Killian up and out.
He walked out of the ICU and down to the small waiting room int he ER. It was empty, quiet aside from the television that hung on the wall. He sat down and emptied the bag to find a burger, fries, and a piece of white cake. He had no desire to eat but knew that he should. He picked at the fries in between bites of the burger until the frantic clicking of high heels echoed throughout the empty room.
"Killian!"
He turned, half a french fry hanging out of his mouth. "What?"
"He's awake."
Killian bolted up and nearly ran down to Jefferson's room with Ruby trailing behind. His heart was racing, his hands trembling when he reached Jefferson's bedside. And there was Jefferson: broken, humiliated, worried. Awake.
"Oh my god, Killian," Jefferson whimpered. He reached for him like a child, arms outstretched, desperate and needy. Killian was happy to oblige. He leaned down and wrapped Jefferson in a strong, warm hug.
"I'm so sorry, I swear I wasn't trying to hurt myself. I'm so sorry," Jefferson whimpered.
"I know, sweetheart. It's alright, you're alright."
"I'm sorry," he repeated.
Killian nodded and pulled back a little, pressing his lips to Jefferson's forehead and then to his lips. Jefferson kissed him back weakly and Killian sighed, contented. He needed to get something off his chest, and now was a good of time as any. He leaned down to kiss Jefferson again, softer and sweeter than before. When he pulled away he whispered just barely, "I love you."
Jefferson began to cry softly at that point, clinging to Killian as if his life depended on it. "I love you, too."