A/N: Aftermath yey

Enjoy~

He stared down at the table angrily, grey eyes scanning over patterns in the wood. He clenched his hand cuffed to the chair he was situated on, glancing over the heavy cast covering his torn left arm. Craig sighed irritably, tired and beyond annoyed from being thrown out of the hospital and transported to the county jail. His patience was at its end. He just wanted to get this stupid process over with.

His ears perked as the door opened, looking to see a very angry Yates and Murphy stepping in. "Gentlemen," he said dryly.

"Cut it," Yates said sharply, the both of them taking their seats and staring him down. Craig straightened up, meeting the stare of the sergeant head on, lips curling into a smirk.

"Betcha wish this was the room I was in a month ago, huh?"

"Watch it, Tucker," Murphy warned darkly. He threw a folder onto the table with a sharp smack. Yates had been dealing with enough doubt over his abilities, Murphy spending the last three days talking him out of a damn early retirement over the matter. He wasn't about to lose any progress from the asshole across from him. "You have the option to wait for an attorney."

He scoffed, "For what? I'm not retarded. No fucking lawyer pain in the ass is going to help me. None of 'em will care as much about me as much as Broflovski's will about him."

"And what makes you say that?" Yates questioned.

Craig rolled his bloodshot eyes, "Because his fucking dad is going to be his lawyer, fucking duh."

Murphy smacked his lips, "So, you're not going to hire a lawyer?"

"I really don't have a reason, now do I?" he said flatly.

The men looked at each other before looking back at the criminal before them, taking a deep breath at his stony glare that'd fooled them so easily a mere month before. "Fine the courts will appoint you one down the way. Now, why'd you do it?" Yates demanded.

He shrugged with his mobile arm, "Took what I earned."

"You think you earned a person?" the detective narrowed his eyes. "What makes you say that?"

The boy stared at him straight on, a slight curl sneaking on the edge of his lips. "Broflovski knows. That's all that matters."

"No, we need to know," Yates snapped. "Mr. Broflovski will tell us, but why don't we get your side, too?"

He scoffed derisively. "He needed someone to take care of him," he said plainly.

"And you think drugging, kidnapping, and abusing is 'care'?"

"Some learn through reward, others through punishment," he smirked. "Broflovski's just stubborn, needs put in his place."

Murphy frowned, "No, he's smart. He knows that's not how you treat a fucking person, Tucker."

He let out a small huff of a laugh through his nose. "Well. Good thing he's not so much a person then, isn't it?"

Yates frowned deeper, tapping his finger on the table. "Right, you think he's a fucking dog." He watched the boy shrug casually and shook his head, trying to beat down his mind screaming at him yet again for letting the psychopath before him slip through the cracks. Never before had he found himself feeling so guilty about screwing up a case. Never before had he found himself staring down a man he thought to be completely innocent with such a nasty crime committed that he could barely wrap his brain around it. He sighed, "Why do you think that Mr. Broflovski is a dog?"

"Because he acts like one," he stated. "Begging for attention, giving into someone taking care of him, being McCormick's little lap puppy," he rolled his eyes. "Hell, he said it himself: What he did for work wasn't anything necessary, just extra. Like a dog. Don't need one, but it's nice to come home to," he said.

"You mean being in a happy relationship?" Murphy bit with narrowed hazel eyes piercing through the noirette.

"How do you know it's actually happy?" he challenged.

Yates frowned, "Because no one in a miserable relationship would risk going to jail or getting shot over the other person."

"McCormick's just as much as an attention whore as Broflovski," he scoffed. "He just wanted to take the dog back to come home to and lavish him with attention."

The men looked at each other once more, the sergeant shaking his head. "You messed up a good kid, Tucker," he said lowly. "We've talked to your mutual 'friends', though now you've lost all of them," he scoffed. "They told us how Broflovski was nothing but kind to you. You really think you're going to be able to sleep at night knowing how much you screwed with him?"

Craig grinned, stone eyes gleaming deviously as that downtrodden defeated expression plastered along his mind, his completed symphony echoing beautifully, "Like a puppy."

The old stereotype rang true, hospital food was fucking terrible. Kenny unhappily bit into a meatball sub that Sheila had forced on him before she and Gerald had wandered off to walk around the hospital and stretch their legs, chewing through the watery sauce and clumpy meat and holding back a string of vomit. This had been it for two days, staring at the family waiting room walls, drawing his eyes along the tacky wallpaper's swirling design time and again until it made him nauseous. He looked beside him at Ike playing on his phone, tilting his head. "The hell is that?" he asked.

"Word puzzle game," Ike mumbled tiredly, cracking his neck.

"Nerd," he snorted.

Ike looked at him and smirked, punching his arm. "Keep it up and you'll be thankful for where we are when I break your nose."

"Harsh, lil' bro," he teased, ruffling Ike's hair.

The boy groaned, batting his hand away. "You can't call me that, you lousy homo. I barely let Ky call me that."

"Ay, I am a fantastic homo. Ask your brother," he elbowed him. Ike rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Still don't know what he sees in you."

He shrugged, "Well, I mean, probably just the homo-ness. Slim pickin's 'round these here parts, so I'm thinkin' I happened to be the default."

"I'm inclined to agree," he said dryly, chuckling at Kenny's pathetic pout.

"Stop being dicks, you two," Stan mumbled from his other side, flipping through a magazine and scanning with listless eyes. "Or you're both getting wheeled out of here."

"Gee. Thanks," Kenny scoffed, taking another bite of his nasty lunch. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and glancing at the clock reading 2:13. Time was dragging so terribly, and the lack of sleep certainly wasn't helping matters. He rubbed his eyes as he gulped down the thin marinara, brain betraying him yet again and reminding him of how good Kyle's was. He rolled his eyes, beyond sick of the constant memories still flooding over him. He knew where the redhead was now, he knew he was safe. But he figured until he actually talked to him, he'd still be stuck in this horrible limbo of uncertainty.

His hopes seemed to finallybe coming to fruition as a nurse popped her head into the small room, looking at the three of them with a small smile. "Which one of you is Kenny?"

"Me!" he exclaimed, throwing the sandwich onto Ike and splashing sauce onto his shirt as he jumped up, ignoring the 16 year old punching his leg angrily at the mess.

She nodded softly, "He's awake. He wants to see you first," she beckoned him to follow and Kenny grinned, hurrying after her and biting his lip excitedly. Finally. Fucking finally. He hopped impatiently as she took her sweet time, leading him down the hall to room 153 and gesturing. "There you are. Be careful, he can be pretty...timid," she said carefully. "The pain relievers are pretty strong, but he's still flinching now and then."

"Gotcha," he nodded, waving her away and gently cracking open the door, finding that splash of auburn hair standing out brightly against the pristine white and beige room. He stepped inside and Kyle looked over from staring out the window at the sound, the green of his eyes beaming through the purple still lingering around the shining orbs in the afternoon light. Kenny closed the door behind him, his excitement dying all at once at the sight of the aching mess waiting for him. He gulped, eyes hitting the sling holding his right arm and biting his lip guiltily.

"...You gonna come in orrr...?" Kyle raised his brow.

Kenny smiled fondly at the familiar impatient tone, just that enough to know that Kyle was still in there under the cuts and bruises. He pushed himself off the barrier and made way over towards him, cupping his tired face lightly. "How ya doin'?" he asked lovingly as his thumb stroked his cheek.

He shrugged, leaning into his palm, "I'm...here," he winced. "Kinda foggy...but...better than I have been," he laughed humorlessly. He looked at Kenny's saddened face guiltily, "How're you?"

The blonde rolled his eyes, "I really don't think how I feel is what matters in this situation, Ky."

"It matters to me," he said softly.

He snorted, sitting down on the edge of his bed and running his thumb carefully over his brow. "I'm worried about you."

"I'm fine," he shrugged. "Might not be so fine when these awesome drugs wear off, but for now, I'm okay," he smiled crookedly. Kenny laughed quietly, eyes tracing down to the indentations of the collar still circling his slender throat, his hospital gown dipping just enough on his chest to see a splash of the remains of Craig's teeth marks. He jerked up as Kyle's working hand grabbed his chin and pulled his attention back. "Don't look at those," he said quietly. "Please don't."

He nodded with a cringe, "Sorry. I just-"

"Ken," he cut him off, closing his eyes and taking a shaking breath. "Just...don't. Okay?"

"Okay," he whispered. Kyle's hand grabbed his shirt and weakly tugged him forward, pressing their lips together. They both sighed in relief at the familiar comfort that they could so easily fall into, hands tracing up into hair and twisting through oily locks.

Kyle laughed a little, pulling back just a hair. "You need a shower. You smell like your old house."

Kenny snorted, "You smell like a bedpan, so we're fucking even."

The redhead rolled his eyes amusedly, kissing him again before bowing his head down under Kenny's chin and nuzzling against his throat. Kenny looked down at him and smiled adoringly, wrapping his arm around his good side. He kissed the crown of his head and sighed happily. He was just happy to have him back and awake, talking and touching, breathing without a damn tube. Despite the circumstances, it was perfect. For both of them.

"So, did they tell you anything when you woke up?" Kenny asked quietly, almost hating to ruin the moment but knowing it was necessary.

"A lot," he muttered exhaustively against his skin, free hand reaching up and holding Kenny's arm for stabilization, stroking over the muscle tone methodically. "Have a mild concussion, my leg's gonna be pretty fucked up for awhile, and if my wrists heal completely, everyone will be surprised..." He paused, "Though, I guess those are my own damn fault," he rolled his eyes.

"Ky, none of this is your fault," he said.

He waved the notion off, "I know, I know. I just mean...All of them happened from me doing something stupid and trying to runwhen I should've just been waiting for you."

Kenny sighed, kissing his head again, "I'm sorry it took me so fucking long."

"Dude," he said, pulling back and looking at him. "You got there, that's all that matters."

"You got shot," he said with a cracking voice, trying to force his emotions back down for Kyle's sake.

The redhead looked down at Kenny's throat, brushing his fingers lightly against his collarbone. "Wanna know something really ironic that makes me hate the world?" he murmured. Kenny cocked his head and Kyle let out a huff through his nose and his shoulder slumped. "The fucking cage apparently saved my fucking life."

Ken jerked back and blinked down at him. "What?"

"The police looked at it...the bullet hit one of the bars and changed course. It probably would've hit my throat otherwise..." he trailed off and shook his head. His weary brain was finally catching up with him as he said it aloud. He was so close to being just gone, and by Craig's fucking hand of all people. A particular memory struck him at once: 'I doubt you'd mind it. Me being the last you see and all.' The bastard almost made it happen. He bit his lip and looked down at the sheets, eyes burning with tears as they started to roll down his cheeks.

Kenny's heart dropped at the sight and he gathered him against him, Kyle pushing his face against his shoulder and sniffling. "Shh," he cooed, reaching up and rubbing his back. "I gotcha now."

"It was awful," he sobbed, losing control once more, tears staining the cotton separating them. "God...it was so fucking awful, Kenny."

Kenny folded in his lips and bit them lightly, rubbing his head against Kyle's hair as his own tears snuck through. "I know, Babe, I know," he murmured, kissing his temple.

"They're gonna make me see him," he whispered, body trembling. "I...I don't want to see that fuck ever again."

Kenny gulped, nodding slowly, "Ky, the only way you won't is to go to court."

"I know," he sniffled, turning his head against him and staring through glossy eyes at the wall across the room. "It's just not fair," he whimpered.

Ken nodded in agreement, continuing to rub over Kyle's back. "It sucks, Ky. It really does...I-I can't imagine how it feels for you."

"Like...I'm being punished," he said brokenly, a flinch racking through him that nearly knocked Kenny off the bed.

The blonde looked at him recovering from the jerk helplessly, able to see any hint of Kyle's strong disposition trying to wither away, the frail redhead fighting to regain what little control he still harbored in the moment. "What can I do, Ky?" he asked softly, reaching up and wiping tears from his cheekbone as Kyle fought for his stance back.

The redhead was silent for a few moments, minute tremors racing through him. He closed his eyes, placing his ear over Kenny's heart and taking comfort in the strong beats within. "Don't leave me," he pleaded, nothing more than a soft, desperate whisper barely breeching under the monotonous beep of his vitals equipment.

Kenny smiled sadly, grabbing his left hand and raising it to his lips, kissing each finger genially. "Never," he promised. "We're gonna get through this together, okay?" he said warmly by his ear. "We'll do whatever you need."

Kyle gulped, nodding and huddling into him closer, the both of them quietly relishing in the other's touch, just beyond happy to have that within their reach again. Kenny continued to softly pepper his face with brushes of his lips, each touch reminding Kyle with a staggering shock of loving heat that he was out of Craig's hands, he was protected and safe in his own skin once more, and he was alive. Everything that he'd prayed for had came true, bundled in the blonde package holding him so closely. What awaited him down the road could wait for then, what he had right then and there was all he needed to keep himself afloat, at least for now. He closed his burning eyes, a true appreciation for what he was experiencing at long last; Grateful for the comfort Kenny always provided him, grateful for the safety he was silently promising, and grateful to finally be back where he truly belonged.

A/N: Considered epilogue. Decided against it. Literally it was just going to be Kyle telling Kenny he wanted to move away into the city away from empty space like it would've worked but I think this ties it up just fine. Also Lila went to Butters. This was also going to be mentioned but eh.

I know a ton of you wanted Craig to win, but, dudes I had way too much evidence stacked against the guy he was fucked regardless. Tbh he nearly died but I wanted the last speech. And Kyle to suffer more. Because I'm a terrible fucking person yey.

Hopefully you guys liked this one all the way through, I kind of lost my steam the last like five chapters but I wanted it done pfffff. This has reignited my Cryly love, though. They may be gettin' another one in the future, but we'll see.

So, for a final time, thanks for R&Ring and hope to catch you on another story! :)