The Space Between Us
Chapter 3 – Missing Piece

What the actual fuck?

At first, all Eddie could do was stare up at the detective in front of him, blinking in confusion, because Eddie wasn't sure he had heard him right.

"What?" Eddie finally choked out. He frowned deeply, his lips drawing into a thin line. "You-you think I did this to my husband?"

"Try and understand, Mr. Kaspbrak," Detective Bannerman said, "we're simply trying to figure out what went on. The spouse is often a person of interest, so it's a standard question in our procedures."

Eddie's first instinct was to be angry. He wanted to start screaming and shouting about how he would never hurt Richie, but in the end, he didn't think that would serve him well. They might just think he had an anger management issue if he did that, and then he would really be a person of interest. Plus, the sooner Eddie cooperated and they realized that someone else had done this, the sooner that asshole could be caught.

Eddie took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself down before he answered. He shook his head miserably and said, "We were so happy. We made love just this morning if that gives you can any indication as to the nature of our relationship," Eddie added cheekily.

Eddie didn't know if he expected any sort of response, but the detective only wrote something on his little pad of paper. Hell, Eddie wasn't sure what had compelled him to say that in the first place, but it was probably the same reason he had talked about making love to Richie during his 911 call. Married couples had sex, and he and Richie tended to have lots of it (they had only been married for six months, after all). Not to mention, if the police were concerned about the nature of his relationship with Richie, then Eddie was going to lay those ideas to rest.

Sighing heavily, Eddie added, "I love my husband more than anything. I would never do anything to hurt him."

"Would you mind taking me through the events of your day?" the detective asked. "It might help us get a timeline of when exactly this happened if you talked to your husband prior to the attack."

"Richie and I ate breakfast this morning," Eddie said, resigned to the fact that he was probably going to be repeating this story more than once when all was said and done. "I got ready, kissed him goodbye, and left for work."

"Do you remember what time you left your home?"

"It was just after nine," Eddie replied. "I had to be at work at ten, and it typically takes me about twenty minutes without traffic."

"Where do you work?

"Pacific States Insurance Firm. It's in Santa Monica. I'm a risk analyst."

"How long were you there today?

"Eight hours," Eddie replied. "I wasn't planning on staying so late, but I got to working on some reports and-" Eddie broke off around a weighty breath. "Maybe if I had come home earlier like I originally planned to, this wouldn't have happened."

It was the very first time that Eddie stopped to think about what would have happened if he left his fucking work behind for once and came home to Richie sooner. If he had left work just an hour earlier, maybe Eddie could have surprised the intruder. Perhaps the asshole would have been scared off if they had realized there were two people at home. Maybe they wouldn't even have come in if there had been a car in the driveway. So many things could have happened to prevent this, and yet, here Eddie was, not even fucking knowing if Richie was okay or not.

But Eddie had 'lost track of time in the exciting world of risk analysis' just like Richie had said. It wasn't even that the reports he had been working on had been all that enthralling, but Eddie wanted to get them done so that Richie could have his undivided attention this weekend. He wanted to do it for Richie, and look where that had gotten him – in the hospital emergency room, not even sure if Richie was still alive.

Richie could be dead, and Eddie hadn't even been with him.

"Did you talk to Richie at all while you were at work?" Detective Bannerman asked, pulling Eddie from his thoughts.

Eddie nodded slowly. "I texted him while I was eating lunch, reminding him to eat, because he forgets sometimes," Eddie said around a soft laugh. He then picked his phone up from where it was resting on his knee. He brought up his conversation that he'd had with Richie just that afternoon and held it out for the detective to see. "You can read what we said if you're still concerned about what our relationship was like."

Detective Bannerman took a moment to scroll through Eddie's phone, and the only thing Eddie was mildly concerned about was the way he and Richie talked to each other sometimes. They often called each other assholes or dickheads and told each other to fuck off, but as the rest of the Losers could attest to, it was what they did instead of flirting like a normal couple. Hopefully, when they said they loved each other immediately after, however, the true nature of the conversations would come through.

"He's a comedian," Eddie finally supplied as a way to break the awkward silence that had settled into the room.

It was the detective's turn to nod. "I've seen some of his videos on YouTube."

"He'll get to working on bits sometimes and he loses all track of time," Eddie explained, smiling at the thought of Richie being his scatterbrained self. "I have to remind him to do normal adult things like eat and shower, because he says he gets in 'the zone' when he's writing and doesn't realize how much time has passed."

Almost as soon as the words were out of Eddie's mouth, the smile faded from his face. He couldn't quite bear the thought of never having to remind Richie to fucking take care of himself ever again. Eddie sometimes wondered what Richie did before they got together, because by all accounts, Richie should have starved to death long ago.

"And when was the next time you talked to him?" the detective asked.

"After I punched out and was leaving the office," Eddie replied. He gestured to his phone, which was still in the detective's hand and said, "You can see what time I called him. It was just after six."

Detective Bannerman took a moment to look through Eddie's phone again before he asked, "And what was the nature of that conversation?"

"I asked him what he wanted for dinner," Eddie said. "He said he wanted Mexican, so stopped at that place on Wilshire." Eddie immediately leaned over slightly and reached into his back pocket, withdrawing his wallet. He found his receipt from the Mexican restaurant before handing that over to the detective as well. "Here's my receipt if you need proof of that too."

Eddie tried not to sound bitter, but he was pretty sure he failed miserably. He wanted to be as cooperative as possible, but fuck anyone that would suspect he'd ever even think of doing something like this to Richie. Richie was his everything, and Eddie had no fucking clue where he'd go from here if Richie wasn't okay. If he had to go back to the way things were before he'd known pure happiness with Richie. Eddie hadn't even fathomed he could be as complete and fulfilled as he felt with Richie, and he was terrified that it was about to be ripped out of his hands completely.

The detective made some more notes on his pad before he asked, "Was that the last time you spoke to him?"

"Yes."

"And he didn't seem distressed or upset in anyway?" the detective asked. "Nothing that would indicate that something was happening at home?"

Eddie shook his head. "No. It was a normal conversation. We said we loved each other, joked around a little bit, because that's what we do, and…he was actually really excited about something he was working on. Said he got some good work done today."

"And what time did you arrive home?" the detective asked, writing something else down.

"Um," Eddie said squinting in thought, "it must have been just before seven. And then I called 911 as soon as I saw what'd happened."

The detective glanced at Eddie's phone again and said, "You called 911 at seven o'clock exactly." He nodded, making a few more notes. "Did you notice that anything from your home was missing?"

Eddie blinked at him, because apparently they were back to the asinine questions. Eddie had been completely focused on Richie and he hadn't had time to look for missing items! Eddie didn't even give a fuck if they had completely gutted his home, because they were just possessions and they could be replaced. Richie couldn't.

"I was a little distracted to worry about what they might have stolen," Eddie told him. He shrugged and added, "They broke the deadbolt on the front door. That's all I noticed."

Handing Eddie's phone back to him, Detective Bannerman jotted down something else on his notepad before he said, "So the attack had to have happened sometime between six and seven, which is actually extremely helpful. It gives us a very narrow window that any possible suspects will need to account for. Obviously, we don't have a lot to go on right now without your husband's account of what happened, but we dusted for fingerprints at the scene, and we can start by running those through the system. When you do go home, it would be a huge help if you can let us know if anything was stolen. Especially if it was a unique or expensive item, we can keep an eye out for those things in particular. A lot of the time, stolen items end up at pawn shops and the like, so checking out those would be our next course of action if you find that anything of note was taken."

Eddie pressed a hand to his forehead, desperately trying to take in everything the detective was saying. It felt like he had been on autopilot, reciting his day to the detective, but Eddie felt like it was quickly becoming too much. As much as he wanted to help them catch the asshole that had done this to his husband, Eddie really just wanted to know how Richie was. His eyes kept going to the double doors behind the detective that lead to the emergency ward, waiting for someone to come talk to him. But no one did.

The detective had taken a small card from his pocket and handed it to Eddie next. "This is my card," he said. "Please call me as soon as you're able to take stock of your home or if you think of anything else that might be able to help us."

Eddie took the card with a shaking hand and stared down at it miserably. The words on it didn't even make sense to him, nothing more than a blur of information he didn't feel capable of processing right now. The last thing he was even concerned with was checking his house for stolen items. First and foremost, he needed to know that Richie was okay and he wasn't leaving the fucking hospital until he knew that for sure. Everything else could wait.

"Like you said," Detective Bannerman continued on, "they broke the deadbolt on your front door, but we were still able to secure the lock on the doorknob when we left. I hope that's okay."

"Yeah," Eddie mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "It's fine. I don't even really care if you left the door wide open and someone else came in and ransacked my house. I just care about Richie right now. He's the most important thing in the world to me. Everything else is just stuff."

For the very first time since this interrogation began, the detective's brown eyes softened and he offered Eddie a sad smile. Maybe the man actually finally believed that Eddie loved his husband and would never do anything to hurt him. Believed that Eddie was nearly at his wits' end still fucking waiting for word on Richie's condition.

"I made note of your number too," the detective said. "I'll call you if you we come across anything or have any other questions. The hospital has my number too, and hopefully, we'll be able to get a description of the suspect from your husband if he's okay."

"That's all I want," Eddie mumbled. "Please try and get whoever did this to my husband and put them where they belong, so they can't hurt anyone else."

"That's what we're going to try to do." The detective offered him an encouraging smile before he departed the waiting area, leaving Eddie to his thoughts once again.

As much as Eddie hated having to answer the detective's questions, Eddie wasn't entirely thrilled with being alone either. It meant that he didn't have any distractions, so his mind started running in overdrive, going through all the possible scenarios of what could possibly happen to his husband.

Eddie almost felt like an idiot, sitting in the emergency waiting area all by himself with no one around him. He didn't know why, but he felt like the receptionists, and the nurses, and doctors who passed through were staring at him like he had no right to be there. He just felt awkward and out in the open, and it seemed like forever before the front doors to the hospital opened, and it wasn't more paramedics with a new patient like Eddie had been expecting.

"Bill," Eddie gasped out as he rose from his chair. He quickly crossed the waiting area and threw himself into Bill's arms, because he just needed someone. He needed someone who was his ally, and who wasn't going to accuse him of hurting his husband, or ask him more asinine questions like everyone else. Eddie buried his head in Bill's shoulder and let out a relieved sob, but it quickly turned into cry that wracked through his entire body.

He was so fucking tired. It wasn't even ten o'clock yet, but it felt much later than that. The day seemed to be going on and on without any end in sight, and it felt like he had been sitting in the waiting room forever; Eddie just wanted to know what was going on with Richie already!

"I got here as soon as I could," Bill said as he hugged Eddie tightly.

He ran a soothing hand over Eddie's back, which did sooth Eddie's cries just the tiniest bit, because it helped to know that he wasn't alone.

"Has there been any word?" Bill asked.

Shaking his head, Eddie pulled away and wiped at his eyes. "I've been waiting and waiting, but…nothing. I feel like fucking going over there and demanding they tell me what's going on with him already," he muttered, gesturing at the desks where the receptionists were working.

"They're probably working on him," Bill said calmly, "and they'll let you know as soon as there is anything to share. In this case, no news is good news, because it means he's still alive." He paused for a moment before gently leading Eddie back over to the chair where he had been sitting. "Let's sit down."

Eddie went, slumping back down in his chair once again as Bill took the seat next to him.

"What the fuck h-happened?" Bill finally asked, and Eddie had known it was coming.

"I don't know," Eddie told him just like he had told everyone else thus far. "I came home and Richie was lying on the floor bleeding. From his head. It-it looked like someone broke in to rob the place, I guess, and Richie must have surprised them. And they hit him over the head. I fucking knew we should have gotten a goddamned security system or something."

"Jesus," Bill muttered. He leaned over to wrap an arm around Eddie's shoulders. "He's going to be all right. He's strong. Not to mention, we all lived through a hell of a lot worse than this and lived to tell the tale. I mean, nothing can compare to the fucking killer clown from outer space."

Eddie tried to force out a laugh at that, but it eventually transformed into a hiccup as another sob echoed through his chest. Tears and snot were streaming down his face now, which he wiped at with the sleeve of his suit jacket. That was when he realized the suit was a lost cause now, because aside from the tears he'd been wiping on it, there were also blood stains on the knees of his pants as well as on the cuffs of the jacket. He even had dried blood on one of his hands from when he'd been pressing gauze against Richie's head.

Richie's blood. All over him.

That thought disgusted Eddie so much that he immediately pulled out of Bill's grasp to rip his jacket off and throw it down on the chair next to him. He'd have to see if the hospital staff could dispose of it, because it was gross. No wonder the detective had asked if Eddie was having any trouble in his marriage, because it did kind of look like he had tried to commit murder.

Eddie rubbed at his blood-stained hand with the other, then ran it over the leg of his pants again and again. It was still a deep maroon color, the blood staining his skin, so he'd have to find a fucking bathroom to at least wash his hands soon. Why didn't he at least have the presence of mind of grab a pack of wet wipes before he left the house?

"Did you get a chance to talk to the others?" Eddie asked, because he was suddenly aware of just how closely Bill was watching him, and he felt the need to fill the silence that had settled between them with something.

Bill nodded. "Yeah, but I didn't have much to tell them – only what you told me and that wasn't a lot to go on. They want us to let them know as soon as we hear anything, and they'll decide tomorrow if they're going to fly out. Most likely they will, though, because they're all just as concerned as we are."

"God, I just wish they would tell us something," Eddie muttered, tugging at his tie and loosening it. He wished he could change out of his suit, but he would have to settle for pulling off as many pieces of it as possible. He tugged off his tie, letting it fall to his lap, and then pulled at some of the top buttons of his shirt, pulling those open as well.

"I told you, it means he's still alive and they're working," Bill told him, laying a hand over Eddie's back and rubbing at it gently. "They'll let us know what's going on as soon as they can."

Now that Eddie didn't have anything to do – no questions to answer and no calls to make – he could feel the sobs bubbling up inside him again. He took a deep breath in effort to curb them, but then tears welled up in his eyes and were dripping down his cheeks before he could stop them. Eddie gasped in a breath of air, which only turned into a bunch of short sobs.

Bill wrapped his arm around Eddie's shoulders again, pulling him closer. Richie was normally the only one Eddie would let hug him like this, but Eddie leaned heavily into Bill, because he didn't know what else to do. Eddie felt completely lost not knowing what was going on with Richie, and Eddie just wanted to feel like he wasn't alone. And he wasn't. Bill was here.

All it had taken was one phone call, and Bill had come to be by his side, no questions asked. Eddie also knew that the other Losers would come running too if he asked, and that thought – along with not knowing what in the hell was going on with Richie – seemed to hit him all at once.

Eddie rested his head against Bill's shoulder, turning and pressing his face into Bill's neck as the cries exploded through him. He could feel Bill's other arm reaching up to pull him closer, and Eddie went, curling his head down into Bill's chest. Bill brought a hand up to Eddie's head, pressing it gently against his chest and rubbing the side of Eddie's head.

Eddie let Bill hold him and he cried. He had no idea how long he cried for, but it went on until he felt like he had no tears left in him. He felt empty and spent, and Bill had held him through it, apparently not the least bit concerned about all the snot and tears Eddie had gotten all over his shirt.

When the tears finally subsided, Eddie ran his shirt sleeve over his face, but Bill still didn't let him go. Still wouldn't let him think he was alone in this, so Eddie stayed leaning up against him. Silence fell between them, and Eddie was only vaguely aware of the televisions in the background, talking about a pileup on one of the highways or something. Eddie all of a sudden decided that he detested news programs and he didn't think he would watch them ever again, because they would only make him think about sitting in the emergency room, awaiting word on Richie's condition.

"Where in the fuck did you get that ugly ass tie, man?" Bill asked after a while. "I can't believe you were actually wearing that. That's really something Richie would wear instead of you."

Eddie didn't know if his question was meant to break the silence or just to distract him, but Eddie was grateful for it nonetheless. He had to take a moment to look down at the tie in his hands, because with all of the day's events, he had completely forgotten which one he had put on that morning.

Oh.

As it turned out, it was a rather ugly novelty tie that Richie had gotten him, but Eddie found himself wearing it more and more as time passed. It was black with strands of spaghetti and meatballs on it that Richie had found only god knew where.

"Oh my fucking god," Eddie had complained last Christmas morning, grimacing at the tie Richie had gifted him. "Where the hell did you get this?" He threw it at Richie's face and added, "You need to burn it, because it's atrocious and I will never wear it."

"It's a spaghetti tie for my Spaghetti," Richie told him, leaning over to wrap it loosely around the back of Eddie's neck. He used it to pull Eddie closer and kissed him. "Do you have any idea what I did to find it? And you're not even going to wear it?" Richie stuck his bottom lip out in a pout.

"It is hideous and no, I will not," Eddie muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's a gag gift! People don't really use those, dickhead, nor do they usually keep them in the long run!"

"But you tell me I'm hideous and you decided to keep me," Richie retorted, playfully tilting his head in that way that Eddie found completely endearing and made him met into Richie's touch. Like now.

"I've done no such thing!" Eddie snapped even as he pressed a kiss against Richie's cheek. "Your shirts are hideous. There's a difference." Eddie grabbed at the collar of Richie's ugly holiday shirt, decked out in Christmas lights and reindeer. "Seriously, where the fuck do you find this shit?"

Ignoring Eddie's question, Richie grinned and asked, "So you do find me attractive. Is that what you're saying?" He tugged on the tie around Eddie's neck again, pulling him closer yet.

"Shut up and kiss me," Eddie muttered, and a few moments later, they had been nothing more than a tangled mess of limbs and kisses on the couch.

The tie had hung untouched in his closet for nearly a month afterwards, but at some point, Eddie had pulled it out and decided to wear it on a whim. Richie had teased him mercilessly over it for the whole fucking day, but in the end, Eddie found himself fondly running his hand over it while he had been at work. It just reminded him so strongly of Richie, of making out with Richie on the couch on Christmas morning, and those thoughts made him deliriously happy. Eddie now tended to put the tie on whenever he was feeling especially close and tender with Richie, because it only helped to heighten those feelings. Given the events of this morning, Eddie wasn't really surprised that he had picked it out of his closet afterwards.

Bill's question made Eddie laugh, and he found more tears spilling down his cheeks. But this time, it was because Eddie was thinking of Richie, of that ridiculously cute way he tilted his head and looked at Eddie. Of how fucking in love Eddie was with him and how ridiculously happy and in awe he still was that Richie loved him back.

"It was a Christmas gift from Richie," Eddie replied around another laugh, wiping away the tears that had accumulated on his chin. He sniffled before he added, "At least I didn't get any blood on it. I'm rather fond of it."

"Leave it to that man to find the ugliest clothes in existence," Bill said, shaking his head.

Despite the situation, Eddie found himself smiling, running his fingers over the tie in his hands in an effort to try and calm himself. To think about better days spent with Richie making out on the couch and just being in love with his stupid ass.

Sighing, Eddie leaned into Bill again. "Thanks for coming," Eddie whispered, his eyelids feeling heavy out of nowhere. Finally feeling the effects of the events of the day, he supposed.

Tightening his hold around Eddie's shoulders again, Bill said, "Think nothing of it. I wouldn't be anywhere else."

Eddie closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of the smooth, silky tie between his fingers. On Bill's soft and steady breathing underneath him before he drifted off.

"Eds," Bill's voice awoke him sometime later.

Eddie started awake, thoroughly shocked at the idea that he had fallen asleep in the waiting room of all places. He pushed himself away from Bill, rubbing his arm over his eyes and a moment later, he realized that there was a doctor standing before them.

Clearing his throat, Eddie sat up straighter in his chair as he looked up at the doctor, and all of a sudden, Eddie wasn't sure he wanted to know what was going on. At least before, he could keep telling himself that everything was okay, that Richie was going to be fine. But now, there was no going back once he knew the full truth.

"Mr. Kaspbrak?" the rather young dark-haired woman asked.

"Yes," Eddie replied.

"I'm Doctor Reddy," the woman said. "I've been treating your husband." She hesitated for a moment before glancing at Bill. When she looked back at Eddie, she asked, "Is it okay if he stays?"

"Yes, absolutely," Eddie told her. "This is Bill, one of our best friends." Eddie bit at his lower lip before he asked, "How is my husband?"

"First, I want to assure you that he is stable," she told him.

Eddie expelled a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. He hung his head, staring down at the tie in his hands and gripping it tightly. He thought he'd done all the crying he could do right now, but tears of relief were welling up in his eyes at the thought that Richie was okay.

"That being said," the doctor continued, "he has suffered a skull fracture accompanied by some brain swelling and intracranial bleeding. We're treating that right now. We've inserted a shunt to drain any excess fluids from his brain as well as a catheter so that we can monitor the pressure in his brain."

"What, um, what does that mean?" Eddie asked, shaking his head in confusion. He felt like he did when he had been talking to the detective, having way too much information laid on him and not entirely sure what to do with it.

"There's no telling if he's suffered any brain damage from his injuries," the doctor told him.

"Brain damage?" Eddie asked, entirely caught off guard. He scrunched up his face in thought, because of all the scenarios he had been running through his head, this was not one of them. He had mostly been wondering if Richie was going to live or die, and he certainly hadn't thought about any complications like this even if Richie did make it.

"Yes," Doctor Reddy said. "He may suffer any range of cognitive, behavioral, or physical impairments as a result. On the other hand, he may be perfectly fine, but there's no way to know until he wakes up and we're able to evaluate him then."

"When-when will that be?" Eddie asked.

"We have him sedated right now so that he can begin healing," she replied. "Once it looks like the swelling in his brain has gone down and we're sure the bleeding has stopped, we can begin tapering him off those drugs. Then like I said, we can evaluate any possible brain damage he might have sustained and go from there."

"Oh, Jesus," Eddie muttered, running a hand through his hair and desperately looking at Bill.

"So br-brain damage…?" Bill began, and Eddie was grateful for his initiative, because he was pretty sure he couldn't even form a coherent sentence right now. "You mean he could have speech or physical impairments as a result?"

The doctor nodded. "Those are both a possibility, yes, and he may require some form of rehabilitation afterwards. Also, he may have issues with his memory, or just things like processing information, or irritability, and behavioral changes. There's a whole range of symptoms that we just can't predict right now."

"His memory," Eddie asked. "You mean he can forget things? Like amnesia?"

The doctor pressed her lips into a thin line before she nodded. "Unfortunately, yes, but again, we can't possibly predict how extensive that may be until he wakes up. Or like I said, he may have no issues whatsoever. There's simply no way to know right now."

Eddie hunched over, pressing the back of his hand against his eyes. He had spent this entire time sitting there simply wishing that Richie would live, but now that that seemed likely, Eddie had a whole new slew of issues to worry about. Until Richie woke up, they had no way of knowing what those might entail, but one thought scared Eddie more than any other.

Would Richie even be his Richie anymore? Would Eddie suddenly find himself married to a stranger?

But Eddie was getting ahead of himself and he knew it. If he sat here and started thinking about all of the things that possibly could go wrong with Richie's recovery, then Eddie was going throw himself right back into a panic attack. As it was, he had more important things to worry about.

"Can I see him?" Eddie asked, all too aware of the fact that he sounded desperate. But this was his husband, and up until a few minutes ago, he wasn't even sure if he was dying or not. The last time Eddie had seen him, Richie had been bleeding out in their hallway, and Eddie needed to know that he was at least out of immediate danger.

"We'd like him to rest as much as possible," Doctor Reddy said.

"Please," Eddie nearly sobbed, because if they weren't even going to let him see his husband who had almost died, then he wasn't sure what he might do. "I-I need to see that he's okay."

The doctor considered this for a moment before she nodded. "As long as you keep your visit quiet and short."

Eddie started to get up from his chair, but then he paused and looked at Bill.

"Go on," Bill said, pulling his phone from his pocket. "I'm going to call the others and let them know what's going on before it gets too late."

Eddie smiled gratefully at Bill before the doctor took him back through the double doors and through a twisting maze of hallways before she finally stopped at a room towards the end of the hall. And then Eddie wasn't so sure he wanted to go inside.

Seeming to sense his hesitation, the doctor smiled and said, "We have him on oxygen and an IV. His head is obviously bandaged and there'll be tubes running underneath that, but he's doing as well as he can be right now. I know it's scary, but it's all to help him right now."

Eddie took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing his eyes against the sudden pounding of his heart in his ears. "I just…my mother died of cancer, so it's not the first time I've seen these things, but…" he trailed off, not even sure what he was trying to say.

"Not on your husband?"

Eddie smiled slightly at the doctor being able to so easily put his thoughts into words. "Yeah," he whispered. He looked down at the tie he still had clasped in his hands, compulsively running his hands over the fabric. "Richie's so…he's exuberant and boisterous, so I…never thought I would have to see him like this."

This man had lived through two battles with a fucking space clown without even a scratch on him, so Eddie kind of always thought of him as invincible, even though he knew he wasn't. No one was, but Richie had been his rock for as long as he'd known him, and now Eddie supposed it was his turn to step up and fill that role.

And Eddie could do it. He could.

Stepping into the room, it wasn't quite the medical equipment on Richie that threw him for a loop, but the condition of Richie himself. Richie's eyes were surrounded by deep purplish circles, like he'd either been punched or he'd been up for days with no sleep. He was also horribly pale, almost matching the color of the sheets around him.

"The circles around his eyes are common with head trauma," the doctor explained, like she knew exactly what it was that had taken Eddie aback. "He's also lost some blood, so paleness is to be expected." She stepped farther into the room than Eddie did, going over to the many monitors that were surrounding Richie's bed.

Eddie's eyes followed the many tubes and lines, taking in the IV in his arm, the nasal cannula, the monitor clipped to his index finger, and the wires that emerged from under the sleeve of his hospital gown, most likely monitoring his heart further. Then Eddie slowly looked up Richie's body, to the two tubes tucked into the bright white bandages wrapped around his head. Eddie could just see a few strands of Richie's dark curls escaping from the bandages. They clung to his forehead with sweat, making him look even paler still. Richie's lips also looked severely dry and chapped, and Eddie had the urge to try and kiss them to make them better.

But then Eddie noticed two things that were missing from his husband. He turned to the doctor and demanded, "Where are his wedding ring and glasses? We never take our rings off, and he can't see two feet in front of him without his glasses."

Eddie didn't know why those things were so important to him right now, but they were. It wasn't like Richie could see anything at the moment, but he needed to have his glasses ready once he woke up. And Eddie simply hated that anyone had taken his wedding ring off. They had both had them on since their wedding in October, and the fact that Richie wasn't wearing his anymore almost felt like a spell was now broken or something.

"We have them here, Mr. Kaspbrak," the doctor said, lifting up a clear plastic drawstring bag from one of the counters against the wall. "We have everything he was wearing that we didn't have to cut off of him."

Shoving his tie in his pocket, Eddie immediately went to the bag, pulling it open and rummaging around in it until he found the objects in question. The doctors had also seen fit to save his fucking socks and underwear for reasons that were beyond Eddie, because that was what Eddie wanted – his husband's fucking stinky socks and used underwear. But then he found one of the things he had been looking for as his hand closed around Richie's glasses, which he promptly pulled out of the bag. Eddie was relieved to see that they were still in one piece, having survived the attack without a scratch or crack.

Eddie put those in the pocket of his shirt before he reached back into the bag, his hand going to the bottom in search of that little platinum ring that symbolized his union with Richie. He finally felt it slide onto one of his fingers and he pulled it out, checking to make sure that it was okay too, because he would seriously hurt someone if something irreparable had happened to Richie's ring.

The ring was still okay, the diamonds and platinum reflecting back the emergency room lights from where it sat on Eddie's ring finger, just above his own ring. Richie's fingers were bigger than Eddie's, however, so Eddie moved it to his index finger where it fit comfortably around his skin. He wrapped his thumb around it protectively, vowing to keep it safe until Richie was out of the hospital and able to wear it again.

Without anything else to distract him, Eddie finally turned back to the bed to face the one thing he supposed he had been avoiding. To face the state that his husband was in.

"All of his vitals look very good," the doctor said, still checking the monitors beeping steadily next to the bed. She made some notes on a clipboard and added, "As soon as a room is ready, we'll likely be moving him to the stepdown unit upstairs, which means he's out of immediate danger, so he is doing okay."

Eddie smiled gratefully, but still didn't move from where he stood rooted by the counter.

"I'll let you visit for a moment," Doctor Reddy said. "There's a call button if you need immediate help," she said, gesturing to a remote control hanging over one of the bars on the bed on a thick wire. "A nurse will be in in a little while to check his vitals again, but please call if you need anything."

When Eddie was left alone, he stood watching Richie like he might be some wild animal that could attack him. Eddie didn't know why he was having such a hard time approaching or even looking at his husband in this state, but he didn't like it.

"Fuck," Eddie muttered, almost forcing himself to take a few steps closer to the bed. Reminding himself that it might help Richie if he knew Eddie was there, that was the thought that finally pushed Eddie to sit on the very edge of Richie's bed. He still didn't quite touch his husband, but he said, "You're a fucking mess, man." He had been trying desperately to joke, but his voice cracked on the very last word.

Unable to look at Richie's pale and drawn face any longer, his eyes went down to Richie's hand sitting next to him on the bed. To the finger where his wedding ring should be, but wasn't any longer. Sighing, Eddie slowly reached out, sliding his fingers just underneath Richie's. Eddie brought Richie's hand up to his chest, tightening his grip around it. Richie's hand felt warm and comforting around his, and that helped a little bit, even if Richie couldn't tell him that everything was going to be okay.

"I have your wedding ring right here," Eddie said, making sure that Richie's fingers were curved over his and were touching both rings on Eddie's fingers. "Can you feel it? I'm going to wear it until I can put it back on you, because no one else is allowed to."

Eddie brought Richie's hand up closer, pressing a kiss to the back of it before letting his eyes travel back up Richie's body. One of the things Eddie had always loved about Richie were his arms, how they always looked and felt so strong whenever he held Eddie. Letting one of his hands trail down Richie's wrist and to his arm, Eddie gripped it tightly, and he supposed that that made him feel the tiniest bit better too. It was still there, still strong and firm underneath his fingers.

Eddie's eyes settled on Richie's hospital gown next, and this did manage to earn a small smirk from Eddie. He knew that Richie would be horrified at having to wear such an ugly thing, but Eddie immediately found himself latching onto it.

"I'm not sure," Eddie said, "but this may be an improvement over your everyday fashion." He reached up, plucking at the hem on the sleeve. "We'll have to see if we can get a couple." He paused, instinctively waiting for Richie's retort, but of course, no answer came.

"I'm sorry, Rich," Eddie gasped out as another sob that threatened to escape him. His eyes finally went up to Richie's face, to his sunken eyes that Eddie desperately wished would open; Eddie just wanted to see his husband's beautiful blue eyes, and not those dark circles surrounding him. Sucking in another breath, Eddie said, "I'm sorry I didn't come home earlier like I intended to. If I had been there – I don't know. Maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe you'd still be okay, and we'd be cuddling on the couch now like we wanted instead of…this. Instead of being in a fucking hospital."

Still keeping Richie's hand clasped tightly near his heart, Eddie reached out his other hand to run his fingers over Richie's cheek. He pressed his fingertips to the skin, letting Richie's stubble scrape over the pads of his fingers, just as he had that morning when they had been making love. Then he gently tugged at the strands of Richie's hair emerging from underneath the bandages, pulling them away from his sweat-soaked skin, also like he had done that morning. When everything had been good, and right, and perfect.

"You're going to be okay," Eddie told him, trying his best to sound sure of himself, even though he was anything but. "And even if you're not…we'll get through this, okay? No matter what, I'm going to be here to help you through it. You're not going to be alone. And Bill's right out in the waiting room. He came as soon as I called him, and I imagine the others are probably going to come to see you, because we have some pretty awesome friends. We're all going to help you through this."

Still, Eddie waited for some sort of response from Richie, but only the steady beeping of his monitors met his ears.

"I just wish you'd wake up, because I really miss you," Eddie said, then he forced out a laugh. "Yeah, I miss you and your big fucking mouth. Who would have thought? I must be out of my goddamned mind."

Sighing heavily, Eddie looked down at Richie's hand clasped in his. At the way their fingers slotted together like two puzzle pieces fitting together. Eddie had no idea who he even was without Richie, didn't even feel whole anymore without his husband, and he just desperately wished for his other half to come back to him in one piece.

To be continued…

Author's note: I've never been to LA and I know absolutely nothing about it other than what I've Googled and seen on TV, so don't look too closely at the details here. Also, I'm not a doctor. I've done my best with research and my own personal experiences, but please excuse any errors here.

Stay tuned for chapter four where Richie wakes up and we learn the extent of his injuries!