So, how do we like FighterWard? Isn't he swoon-worthy? Anyway, I hope you're enjoying the first chapter and now, we're going to find out more … What happened to our dear FighterWard?

What I own: a very cranky old dog named Wrigley

What I don't: Twilight

Chapter Two

A steady beep registered in Edward's head. Each beep was annoying and making his head hurt. He shifted and it was a lot more than his head hurting. He groaned.

"Try not to move, Mr. Masen," said a male voice.

"Loud," Edward croaked, trying to move away from the incessant noise. "The beeping is too loud."

The beeping stopped and Edward sighed. He opened his eyes, groaning again at the harsh light. "Sorry, Mr. Masen. The lights are off."

Edward blinked his eyes, trying to focus on where he was. He wasn't at home in his condo, and he surely wasn't at the gym. "What happened?"

The man, a doctor, stepped into his line of sight. "What is the last thing you remember?"

"Sucker punch," Edward answered. "Fight and sucker punch."

"Good, good," the doctor replied, jotting his response on whatever he had in his hand. "Memory is intact."

"Doc, you gotta tell me. What the fuck is happening? And who the fuck are you?"

"Apologies," said the doctor. "I'm Dr. Clearwater and I've been on your case since you were brought in."

"When was that, Dr. Clearwater?" Edward asked irritably.

"Four nights ago," Dr. Clearwater answered with a grimace. "You were brought in by ambulance. Your coach, Mr. Volturi, has been overseeing your care."

"I don't want him," Edward grumped. "Something happened at the fight."

"Something did, you lost," Dr. Clearwater explained slowly. "Quite badly."

Edward went to pinch his nose, but saw his arm strapped to his chest in some sort of contraption. "The fuck?" With a glower that would make most men piss their pants, Edward scowled at his doctor. "Talk. Now. Injuries …"

"Okay, okay," Dr. Clearwater said softly. "You have a severe concussion, bordering on traumatic brain injury. We put you into a medically induced coma for a couple of days to reduce the swelling. When you fell, you landed on your arm, snapping the bone, and straining your bicep. You also tore your rotator cuff, due to how you landed. In addition to that, you've got several bruised ribs and deep contusions."

Edward, faintly remembering how off he'd felt before his fight, looked at the doctor. "Did you test my blood? Anything weird in it? I just … "

"A faint amount of sedative, not enough to cause you to sleep, but enough to make you clumsy," Dr. Clearwater replied.

"This is why I don't want Caius to be in charge of my medical care. I think he … he drugged me to make me lose the match," Edward whispered, feeling betrayed by his coach. His stomach also twisted uncomfortably. Blinking up at Dr. Clearwater, he noticed he jotted something down on his chart. Edward did not want Caius to see that he suspected him in sabotaging his fight. "My coach cannot see my chart. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Masen. I do," Dr. Clearwater nodded. "I'm making note to see if we can get your water bottle to test its contents."

"Right," Edward agreed, leaning back into the pillows. They were soft, but felt like rocks against his aching body.

"Your girlfriend was here earlier," Dr. Clearwater said. "If you're unable to make decisions, can she?"

Edward was shocked his girlfriend, Victoria, was even at the hospital. She hated dealing with sick people. Hell, when he'd gotten a cough, she damn near forced him to stay at a hotel so he wouldn't infect her with his funk. "No … I want to make my own decisions. Also, Caius and Aro Volturi do not and should not have access to my medical files. I don't trust them. The only person that I do trust is their youngest brother, Marcus. He's been my personal physician for the past ten years. Can you contact him?"

"Of course. We didn't know," Dr. Clearwater explained. "Mr. Volturi, Caius, was adamant that we handle everything without reaching out to your physician on file."

"How long am I going to have to deal with this?" Edward asked, gesturing to the arm contraption. He grimaced as pain lanced through his body. "Ugh …"

"This is the least of your worries, Mr. Masen," Dr. Clearwater said. "We're more concerned with your head injury. For now, we're keeping you here so we can monitor your progress. Hopefully, after a couple more days, you'll be released back home, and you can begin rehabilitation. How's your pain?"

"My head is throbbing and every bone aches," Edward answered honestly, giving Dr. Clearwater a stark look.

"Let me give you some pain medication. It'll make you sleepy," Dr. Clearwater said, walking out of the room. He returned a few moments later with a syringe. Carefully, he injected it into Edward's IV. "I'll contact your physician and when you wake up again, we'll go over your treatment plan."

Edward nodded, feeling his eyelids grow heavy.

When he woke up the next time, he saw his girlfriend sitting next to him and Marcus reading through his chart, his lips pursed and fire in his dark eyes.

"Oh, Eddie, baby, you're okay," Victoria breathed. Her voice grated on Edward's brain.

"Don't call me Eddie," Edward grumped. "I've told you, many, many times, Victoria."

"Sorry, baby," she cooed, reaching to squeeze his good hand. "Marcus, when can Edward be washed? He smells like a … hospital." Her nose was wrinkled, looking at Edward like he was a piece of shit, not the man she'd cared for.

It's a long time coming … time to kick her to the curb.

"Victoria, you don't have to stay," Edward muttered. "In fact, it would better if you went to get me some clothes. A hoodie and some sweatpants. Please?"

Victoria gave Edward a look of disgust. She was so concerned about how she looked and how Edward looked, making an impression on her self-centered friends. She was making a face that he needed to dress for comfort, not style. It's not like he could wear any of the name-brand suits, designer jeans or expensive loungewear that were in his closet anyway. For the foreseeable future, he'd be wearing easy access clothing.

Sweatpants.

Hoodies.

T-shirts.

Beanies.

Things he could put on with one arm …

"I can bring you jeans," Victoria offered.

Seriously? "No, Victoria. I can't button them," Edward huffed, rolling his eyes. That made the room spin and his head pound.

"It's going to be some time before he can wear jeans, Ms. Abraham," Marcus responded tersely, looking up from his chart. "I'd like to talk to my patient. I don't need you distracting him."

"Fine," Victoria said, slipping her designer bag onto her shoulder. "I'll be by tomorrow with your clothes. I hope you're clean, Edward. You really do smell." She turned on her heel, tottering out his private room.

"What do you see in her, Masen?" Marcus asked, arching his dark brow. "She's gorgeous, but fuck … so high maintenance."

"To be honest, I'm not really sure. She doesn't work. She has no marketable skills except partying. She lives in my condo, spends my money and bitches if I don't meet her standards," Edward grumbled. "If I didn't need her help, I'd throw her out on her ass."

"Cancel her credit cards and when you're able, change your locks," Marcus suggested, taking her spot. "I will talk to the nurses to get you cleaned up. I respect you as an athlete and as a person, but you do smell."

"I'm sorry that I don't smell like a bed of roses after getting my brains scrambled," Edward groaned, shaking his head slowly. "They were scrambled because I was drugged, Marcus. I think your brother drugged me."

"I can't say if it was Caius or someone from Demetri's camp," Marcus explained, hardening his gaze on the chart. "Demetri 'won' the match, but was disqualified because they found out he wore brass knuckles under his gloves. That's how his blows caused so much damage to your ribcage and head. Demetri has been permanently blacklisted in professional boxing. He's saying that he was set up by Volterra."

"That's bullshit," Edward hissed. "Fuck! My head is throbbing!"

"Edward, you've got one of the most severe types of concussions. It's going to take time for your brain to heal," Marcus said, leaning forward and looking into Edward's eyes. "Your shoulder and arm will be ready to rehab in a couple months. Your brain, however, might take longer. I'll help you …"

"You know that Caius and Aro will push for me rehab sooner rather than later," Edward said, giving Marcus a baleful glower. "That's if I even want to … continue …"

"They might, but I'm your doctor and more importantly, your friend," Marcus argued. "I'm on your side. I'm not my brothers."

Edward eyed his doctor speculatively. "My head hurts too much to make sense of that."

"Well, whatever you decide, I'll support you, Edward," Marcus said, giving the younger man a warm smile. "Now, let's talk about your injuries and where to go from here."

A/N: Victoria is a piece of work … I know … She's one of the women who's all about name brands and status. I know too many of those, to be honest. Marcus, however, is pretty awesome. Now, I'm not going to slog every moment of Edward's recovery. This fight and its resulting injuries are the impetus for the story.

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