Penultimate chapter holy shit. Someone hold me. Also, I forgot to say it last chapter, so I'll do it now: a special shoutout to bumbum, whose reviews are the highlight of writing this, especially the last ten or so chapters, so thank you for leaving your kind words.

I don't think there's anything else to say. So, on with the story I guess.

...

Both Hunapo and Oscar were there to pick his tired, jet-lagged body up off the carpark of Christchurch airport, where it had collapsed next to his suitcase. After leaving from LAX, and transferring at Auckland, Mike was certain he never wanted to go anywhere near a plane again. Between his swelling ankles, the screaming baby next to him and the pain of travelling with a large, misbehaving dog, it certainly wasn't a trip he was looking forward to making again. But still, he'd never travelled this far by himself, and the exhaustion hadn't entirely killed the giddiness of being that independent, or seeing his boyfriend again.

After the emotional reunion, where he'd almost succeeded in lifting Oscar from his wheelchair in an overwhelming hug and talking for a good ten minutes flat- Oscar talking, Mike grunting-, he'd fallen asleep in the car. And soon after arriving at the Davies household, practically falling onto the mattress on the floor of Oscar's room along with Daisy. He'd slept through most of the next day too, only waking up to wolf down a plate of Mrs Davies' cooking before dropping back to sleep. Oscar didn't seem to mind, the car journey something of a strain for him too. Daisy might have been more active, and a little confused being in a strange house and country, but he was too comatose to care. Okay, maybe not the most tasteful of words.

The next day, though, he took the time to wake up slowly, admiring the sleeping mop of curls stretched out on a low bed that looked like it had been made especially. It made Mike uneasy for some reason, along with that towering black electric wheelchair. Oscar himself seemed quite peaceful, on his side with his hands acting as a soft podium for his cheek, chest rising and falling in even, graceful movements. There was a small smile on his face.

Who the hell looked that good when they were asleep? Mike had just had to wipe drool from his chin, and he wasn't quite sure how he managed to end up facing the opposite end of the mattress to where he'd started, with a foot stuck in the pillow case. Not to mention his hair made him look like he'd been given an electric shock, given that he'd not bothered to wash the gel out before sleeping and couldn't remember the last time he'd showered or applied deodorant.

"Morning, sleeping beauty," Oscar murmured as he opened an eye. "Are you all rested up now?"

"Yeah, sure," Mike hauled himself up into a sitting position, wondering for a moment just where Daisy had got to. "How long was I out?"

"Fuck if I know." He still wasn't used to Oscar's casual swearing, but he'd been warned that the boy was still struggling to speak and form sentences in his head, and as such, it was something of a frustrating time for him. Mike could empathize.

"Well I'm up now," he waved a hand and grinned, "ready to do whatever the fuck you want to do today."

"Um," Oscar gave the shyest of smiles. "A kiss would be a nice start to the day. Then afterwards I know this really scenic coastal path if you're up for a walk."

"Right," Mike grinned at that, "we haven't exactly had the chance to do that, have we?" He hauled himself up and crawled over to Oscar's bed, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. And another for luck. Before Oscar knew what hit him, Mike was smothering his face in little pecks, on his forehead, nose and freckled cheeks, leaving him a giggling mess swatting half-heartedly at his 'attacker'.

"Michael?" Oscar all but moaned.

"Mmm?"

"Your breath stinks."

With a huff, Mike crawled back to his mattress. "Okay, fine."

"Just brush your teeth and get dressed so we can go."

...

Okay, Oscar had definitely picked out one hell of a view. Rolling, jagged hills all but slammed into wild autumn seas, and from their cocoon of green trees, Mike could see pale, creamy sand below. Behind them, a road twisted and turned up and up. He was sprawled out in the dirt, and next to him Oscar quietly chewed at one of Hunapo's sandwiches, eyes staring out at the horizon. Daisy was asleep, after a long afternoon sniffing every strange, new thing that could be sniffed and running wherever took her fancy, which was pretty much anywhere.

"Been training hard?" he asked all of a sudden.

"Hmm?" Mike gave a shrug, "I've been keeping fit, but… ah it's nothing."

Oscar whined. "You'll have to tell me now."

At that, Mike pulled a face, but decided he couldn't decline. "I'm in a mental slump, okay? Matt's thinking of competing with me this year, which I never really expected, and it'd be fun having him by my side, and the both of us training together, but-" he groaned; "I don't know if I want to keep competing."

"Because of me?" Oscar finished his sandwich and scrunched up the foil.

"No, well, yeah."

"It's funny Matt would want to compete again," noted Oscar, "was he not the one dead set against it?"

"He kept telling himself that," Mike gave the smallest of smiles, "but he could only lie to himself for so long. He loves rodeo and that will never change. Besides, he wants to spend time with me."

"And what about you? You haven't let what happened with me put you off, have you?"

Mike didn't reply, which Oscar took to be a confirmation.

"Well what would you do instead?" he asked. "After all, you are still in school and have so many years ahead of you."

"I don't know," admitted Mike.

"Well what would you like to do?"

Mike growled at that, pulling himself up to hug his knees. "I don't know, okay?"

"Do you still want to compete? Ignoring the risks, would you like to get back on a horse in an arena?" Oscar's smile took on an annoyingly sly turn.

"Maybe."

"Then do it. I mean, you can still get on a horse and compete so do whilst you have the chance."

"But-"

Oscar turned to glare at him, gaze even and piercing. "It's what you were born to do mate. Please stop being silly; you're giving me a headache."

"Oh piss off," Mike decided he wasn't going to look at Oscar again, for as long as this stupid conversation went on. Who did Oscar think he was anyway? Besides his supportive boyfriend and an athlete.

"If you didn't let what happened with Alfred stop you, then how am I any different?"

Because… it was his fault? Oh they both knew that wasn't true. Had it been the last straw for him? That was more likely. He'd proved he was as good as his brothers so what was there really left to show the world?

"I'd love to follow your future career," Oscar added. "I think you're too talented to just give up."

"What? You think I can go winning more trophies and stuff?" Mike liked the idea, he had to admit.

"Enough for both of us," was Oscar's sincere reply. "I don't doubt you could break a few records too."

"Cheers," Mike snorted, "I'll think about it, okay?" And with that, he stood up, casting one last glance out to sea before making his way back down to the road, Oscar right beside him. He was still a little drowsy, even with that nipping chill in the air keeping him awake, and Oscar looked ready to drop, voice becoming increasingly slurred towards the end of their conversation.

Deep in thought, Mike reached a hand over to play with Oscar's curls, much to the other's irritation. "What about you? Don't think you'll get away with sitting around feeling sorry for yourself."

"I'm over that," Oscar smiled across at him, "thinking of getting back into sports, actually. Not sure which though, but there's probably a club for something around here. I'm not going to have an electric chair forever, you know?"

"You mean you think you'll walk again?" Well, they'd certainly kept quiet about that.

"Certainly not," grumbled Oscar, "but once I'm stronger and more adapted to… everything. I think they said I could move on to a- fuck- non-electric? Whatever it's called. I use my arms. Being around the Davies has made me consider rugby."

Mike wasn't too sure he liked the sound of that. If Oscar wasn't built for rodeo, then he certainly wasn't built for rugby. But, even though the image of Oscar getting flattened and thrown about by big burly guys twice his size would annoy him for some time, Mike supposed it would be good for him to get out and about. As long as he didn't meet any attractive rugby players who weren't the other side of the world from him. "Do you know how to play rugby?" It wasn't an interrogation, more a passing comment.

"Not a clue. Is it hard?"

"I don't know; I've never played."

"Well you're helpful," he huffed, "we could be talking about my future career here."

"I'm just saying," Mike shrugged, "a house full of kiwis but you choose to talk to me about rugby?"

Oscar squirmed. "You're my boyfriend, aren't you? Besides, they've all already explained, and it's embarrassing asking again."

Mike paused in his tracks, letting out a sigh as Oscar- too- came to a stop. "Babe, I know you have brain damage, and your whole family knows too. There's no need to be embarrassed."

"I know it's common knowledge, thank you," Oscar rolled his eyes, "makes me even more embarrassed."

"To ask for help?"

"Problem?"

"Yeah, and I know asking for help sucks but it has to be done." Mike waved a hand; "there's nothing wrong with it, really. We're happy to help, we keep saying."

"And how is that going for you?" Well just damn him.

Mike groaned. "Okay, fine, let's make ourselves a little deal."

"I'll ask for help when I need it, if you damn well make sure you do too," Oscar finished in a mimicking tone.

"I'll be checking up on you to make sure you're keeping up your end." Mike held out a hand, which Oscar took after some grumbling.

"You're a git, d'you know that?"

Mike laughed. "Yes, and now I'm your git!"