CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED FOURTY NINE

The longer it took to get out of the hospital, and the more people turned up, the more irritated Yuri got. Noise levels were becoming unbearable, lights were too bright, too many bodies were standing too close, too many voices were telling him things at the same time. Too many voices were talking in general. The wheelchair was taking too long to get there. Everything hurt. He wanted to scream for everyone to be quiet, but that would've caused more pain, so he stayed in grudging silence, wishing instead for the earplugs he knew he had...somewhere...he couldn't remember whether he'd packed them for practice or not.

...Where is the rest of my gear now?

Viktor and Mikhail had been pulled aside a while ago, leaving the hapless figure sitting on the edge of the bed with nothing but his skates, and the unguarded blades that had been wrapped in towels. Minako had given up trying to talk to him, simply staying by him while they waited for someone, anyone, to come back with the Chariot to Freedom. She stroked his back gently, leaning in against one shoulder protectively...only lifting her head when she thought she saw the two silver Russians finally coming back.

The younger of the two held a small folder of papers, while the older was pushing the wheelchair in, speaking unheard words to clear a path to bedside.

Before Yuri even registered that he'd been moved, he was already looking at the opening doors of the elevator, his hand held up from the arm-rest where Viktor was holding onto it. He couldn't muster the energy to look back and see who was pushing him. Then he was outside suddenly, jackets piled onto him, recognizing both the Team Russia black-and-red jacket hanging loosely over his chest, clinging precariously to one shoulder as it slid off the other, and the warmer, heavier, thicker black-wool Russian winter coat that went over his legs.

He blinked, and Viktor was crouching in front of him, holding onto the folder of papers even as he rested his hands on his knees, looking up at him with those tired blue eyes.

"...How do you feel? You've been really quiet."

Yuri closed his eyes, lowering his head a bit, "...I feel like I'm losing time... I look one way or another, and it's like minutes have passed in a flash."

"The doctors said you'd probably have trouble with short-term memory for a little while." Viktor explained, bracing against the cold in just his practice clothes; grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, "But I bet it's way worse than normal given everything else. You haven't eaten anything proper since before falling asleep on the plane. Coffee and breakfast buns don't count. You haven't slept normally either." He reached up with one hand and gently stroked the cheek on Yuri's unhurt side, "Wait just a bit longer. Uncle Mimi is bringing the car around."

The younger skater nodded, but when he lifted his head and opened his eyes again...he was back in the hotel room. The room was pitch black, but at least it was warm. The blankets were warm, the pillow was warm, the arm draped over his waist was, too...as was the body curled up against his back. It occurred to him how weird it was to feel clothing on that frame; normally there was little or none. Though, he realized some of those clothes were his own. He could only assume he had never changed out of the clothes he'd worn when he'd been run down on the ice.

His head throbbed though, especially under the bulk and tightness of the bandages wrapped around it, and it pulled him out of that warmth and comfort. He pushed up onto an elbow, feeling his brain swim behind his eyes for a moment, soon fading out and feeling mostly normal again. Wanting to take the pressure off though, he pulled himself quietly to the edge of the bed, slowly setting his feet down on the carpet, and pawed his way along the wall until he found the bathroom door. Or at least thought he had...it was the walk-in closet. He left through the open door, and on the second attempt, he found what he'd been looking for, feeling the tile under his socked feet.

The door clicked closed behind him, and Yuri drew in a breath, bracing against the expected burst of super-nova-level light about to glow down on him when he flicked the switch, but knowing there was no other way to see the damage unless he could see. Keeping his eyes closed didn't really help much though, and he winced and cried out against the intensity of the red color, beaming like the rays of the sun itself against his eyelids. It took all of 4 seconds before he was on his knees, clinging to the counter...and heard a knock on the door, followed by it opening.

"...Yuri, what are you doing...? Did you fall?" Viktor's tired-confused-urgent voice asked suddenly, quickly slipping in and closing the door again as his own eyes adjusted to the lights above them. He went down on a knee next to his partner, seeing the desperate look on the man's face, "Do you want help...?"

"Get...get this stuff off of me...!" The younger skater begged, falling back away from the counter and reaching his fingers for the wraps around his head, "It's too tight...!"

The Russian leaned forward, gently pushing his husband's clumsy fingers out of the way, and went looking for the end of the wrap. When he found it, he unclasped it, and slowly started unwrapping the whole thing, pulling 7 lengths of it off from around the pained man's skull. The last bit to fall away was the thick pack of sterile gauze that covered the long cut into his hair, and Viktor carefully pulled it away, having seen the extent of the damage before it was cleaned, sutured, and in part, stapled shut.

There were technically two lacerations there; the long one that started an inch down Yuri's forehead, stitched to the hairline, and then another two inches beyond it, held shut there with staples where no one would see. A second cut was nearby, but was small enough to close with skin glue. Under the messy spikes of raven hair, one could be forgiven for not noticing there were any cuts at all, save for the bruising that was starting to crop up in sickly yellows and greens. It was just like when he'd hit his hip on the rink-wall in China.

Yuri kept his eyes clenched shut and pointed down, rubbing his fingers across the thin layer of skin protecting them from the light.

"It's all off. Do you feel any better?"

"No..." The smaller figure said, suddenly feeling tears falling against his wrists and palms. His voice cracked like a broken dam, and he couldn't stop himself from sobbing, "...How am I going to be able to compete like this...!? All...all that trouble, all that pain and heartache of trying to make it into the Final Six, trying to win Gold like you...and it just...stops here!?" He cringed tightly, "Just like that!?"

"It's not over yet." The Russian said, trying to console his angry and frustrated partner, "The Short Program doesn't even start until late at night. If you can make it through the morning, you'll have all day to recuperate and see how you feel."

"You're not going to try to stop me, are you?" Yuri wondered critically, turning his head just enough to peer through his fingers with one eye, pupils shrinking against the light, "Viktor...?"

"I would be a hypocrite to try." He answered simply, "After the injuries I took last year, I still insisted on skating, even before my eye was healed. ...So unless you're stumbling around like a drunk, who am I to tell you no? This is our whole life. I might as well cut your legs off at the knee to stop you." The silver legend reached to pull the door open again, moving the panel as far as it would go, "Come sit in the hall. It's darker."

Hearing the Russian's answer helped stem to flow of tears, but it still hurt. As they crawled and scooted back out through the doorway, Yuri kept his head low, not daring to open his eyes until the intensity of the glow on his eyelids waned from a bright red-orange, to the darker, cooler colors of purple and black.

Viktor pulled the door to and settled his partner back so the beam wouldn't shine directly on him, but as he faced the main part of the room, he spotted a second pair of eyes watching them, "It's okay, he's mostly fine."

Yuri lifted his head, opening one eye at a time just in case, and looked back as well, remembering at least where the roll-away bed had been put, "Phichit-kun...?"

"Sorry if we woke you up with my start." The Russian went on, sitting next to his partner.

"Oh...n-no...it's okay." The Thai figure answered, pulling the blanket off his head where he'd wrapped it over himself, "...I wasn't getting much sleep anyway."

With a quiet sight, Yuri turned his head forward again, and crossed his legs as well where he sat, "...I don't remember getting back. Or the car ride to get here." He lowered his face into his palms, pulling the bandage off his chin when he felt it, "I'm exhausted and starving, and my head is killing me...I don't even know where to begin..."

Phichit pushed up from the roll-away bed and climbed up onto his feet, though just as he was about to join the pow-wow on the floor, he spotted Viktor pointing at the night-stand.

"Bring that bag over, would you?"

He glanced at the brown plastic, seeing a few things inside, and reached for it as he came closer, handing it over with a quiet crinkle as he sat.

"Thanks." The silver skater rummaged through the content of the bag until he found something easy, pulling apart a small cardboard holster until one of the small cups came free, and pulled the foil lid back. He grabbed for a plastic spoon from the bottom of the bag as well and handed them both over to his husband, "Here. The docs said to keep it simple for a while, so it's just boring apple sauce...but your stomach shouldn't hate you for it."

Yuri looked up at it, and reached for the offering eagerly, glancing at both other skaters briefly, "...Did I forget anything important from after we left the hospital? Just tell me everything again."

"There's going to be a press conference in the morning." Viktor started, watching with a bit of relief as the younger figure started eating a little, "The ISU brass are going to make an official announcement about the accident. It's possible they're going to let Phichit skate in JJ's place. Normally, they'd never consider replacing a skater that drops or can't perform, but since Phichit came here with all his equipment straight from NHK, they're thinking it over."

"Ciao Ciao is going to come down as well. We have to go early to talk with all of them before they make their decision at the meeting." The younger athlete corroborated, "He thinks we might really stand a chance of sneaking in after all."

"Phichit's score is a real boost." Viktor went on, leaning back against the wall, "Tying for the 6th slot was fortunate. If he scored any less, I'm not sure the ISU would even broach the subject. It'll be setting a pretty historic precedent if they allow it."

"...What about...me...?" Yuri wondered nervously, casting the empty apple sauce cup into the waste-bin behind him and reaching for the plastic bag the rest were in, "Are they thinking of dropping me...?"

"I think they're waiting to see how you feel tomorrow."

"...I...vaguely remember the doc saying I shouldn't..." Yuri said, pulling the foil lid back on a second cup, "A thousand wild horses couldn't keep me off the ice."

"That'll also depend on how you feel tomorrow." Viktor reiterated, moving to stretch his legs out straight, crossing his ankles over one another, "The ISU won't let you on the ice if you can't stay on your own two feet. Are you still dizzy? You were on your knees when I came and found you..."

"...That was just from the light." He admitted, "I was a bit light-headed when I woke up, but...it's better now." Brown eyes glanced over at the Russian, "...Why are you all the way over there, anyway?"

"Huh?"

Phichit glanced between the pair awkwardly, "...Yuri, you...told him not to touch you. I was there when it happened."

"What!? No, I couldn't have...why would I...?" He sat more upright, as though feeling a fire rising up his back, looking over at those crystal-blue eyes, realizing that they looked more hurt than tired suddenly, "Viktor..."

"Well, you told everyone to stop touching you, to be fair." The Russian explained, leaning forward to slouch a bit over his crossed arms, bringing his knees back in a little, "But you recoiled away from me when I acted like I thought I was exempt, so..."

Yuri could hardly believe what he was hearing, and quickly shoved the bag aside to get closer as quickly as he could, pulling one of the man's arm up from where they'd both been crossed together, and draped it over himself, "Don't listen to me when I'm grumpy and stupid!"

"You were a bit more than grumpy at the time." Viktor said, though feeling a bit relieved to know that the edict had been cancelled, "You weren't yourself at all. People were trying to help you out of the car when Uncle Mimi got us back to the hotel, and you yelled at everyone to leave you alone. ...The doc told us both that you might have mood swings, but it...still hurt a little to see you lash out like that."

"A little!?" The younger skater was still aghast, "I hurts me and I don't even remember it!"

"...That's for the best then. I'm sure the look on my face when I realized you meant me too was probably pitiful. I wouldn't want to be remembered that way."

"Did I say or do anything else that was horrible...?" Yuri worried, "I mean, when I woke up, you had your arm over me like you always do, so I didn't...even realize...something was wrong..."

"Oh, that's probably because I did it in my sleep." Viktor suggested, "You had your back to me when we all went to bed though. Head under a pillow and everything."

"Noooo!" The raven-haired figure was up again, this time practically crawling up onto his husband's shoulders in his desperate bid to latch onto him, getting his arms around the man's frame just before knocking him down onto his side, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it!"

The Russian just blinked up in surprise, one arm pinned at his side, the other having gone up against the wall in his effort to keep his balance. He lowered it down though to press lightly against his partner's shoulder, pulling the other free and wiggling a bit to get onto his back, "Well..." He ran his fingers tenderly through that black hair, careful of the length of the cut, "You banged your head pretty hard. You were the only one who could've known how much it hurt. You've also been refusing pain meds all night, so..."

"I wouldn't be able to legally compete if I took hospital drugs!"

Viktor just huffed a laugh, "Yeah, that's about the only consistent thing you've said since you woke up. I got you some over-the-counter stuff though, when Mimi and I stopped to get those boring snacks for you on the way back." He twisted a little to point into the room again for the odd man out, "The other bag...would you get it? The one on the night-stand just there...?"

"Oh...yeah, sure." Phichit turned where he sat, going over on his knees to 'walk' the short distance. When he came back around, rifling through the bag for the bottle of extra-strength Tylenol, his eyes went comically wide. He found himself practically walking-in on the pair doing as couples are wont to do; kissing rather eagerly. Phichit just turned his head back and forth, not sure if he should be getting such an eye-full of the spectacle, or if he should be giving them the benefit of the doubt...thought he was somewhat trapped in the room with them in spite of it all.

Viktor had apparently opened the one eye though, and huffed a quick laugh to himself as he pushed back up to sitting, reaching for the bottle in the Thai skater's hand as he became upright again. Phichit gave a quiet sigh of relief, going back to sitting where he'd been a moment before, as the Russian pulled the new box apart to get the little bottle out, and dropped 4 of the white tablets into his palm, "Here. It's the migraine formula, so maybe it'll help with your sensitivity to light, too. I don't want to have to wait until the dark of the Exhibition Gala to see you skate. We'd have to pay extra for it anyway at that point."

Yuri sat back where his partner had settled him on his knees, accepting the tiny oblong tabs and reaching back for his half-forgotten second cup of apple sauce. About to pop the 4 bits into his mouth, he paused, "...I never asked about how everyone else was... Chris? Otabek? ...Celeste? JJ's family? JJ himself..."

"Chris was the responsible one. I went and grabbed our things from his room after we got you back here." The silver skater answered, watching as his partner finally downed the pain-relief medicine that he should've taken hours ago, "Otabek...I'm not sure. He was in the rink with you when the accident happened, but I didn't see him again after Chris and I had originally left to go nacho-hunting. Tess..."

"...Tess? That's what you're calling her now...?" Yuri was surprised.

"She came by to see how you were, and we talked a little. I remembered what you said about the 'pushy girl from Detroit,' but I don't think she's as bad as you think."

Phichit listened intently to those words as well, stunned as much as his friend had been, "...You saw Celeste here?"

The older skater shook his head, "I saw her at the hospital. For some reason...I inherently knew she was here, but I don't remember when or why I saw her. She said I introduced her and Otabek before the accident though." Yuri explained, turning his head to look at the other skater, "She's on the medic team...I think...?"

"Da." Viktor confirmed, "She also claims she was never actually interested in you." He pointed out, setting a hand against his partner's chest and sliding up to his neck and shoulder gently, the fabric of that black practice shirt wrinkling as he moved, "Just that you were highly adverse to particular manifestations of friendship."

"...But she was so pushy before...always trying to be around me..." Yuri slouched a little, his head hurting a bit more from trying to remember it all, though it was hazy.

"She said you guys did homework together." The Russian again explained, "Were you helping her or something...?"

Brown eyes went wide, "...Ooohhhhhhhhhh..." His expression of realization quickly changed over to nervous embarrassment though, "...Aahhhhhhhhh...yeeaaaaahhhh." He quickly brought his hands up to cover his face, "...I can't believe it...all this time... I was so paranoid that every girl I knew would do the same thing to me that Yuuko had done...maybe I mistook her intentions..."

Viktor leaned forward and hugged him, "See?"

Yuri tilted his head against his partner's, reaching up one hand to hold at where both of the Russian's had gone around his shoulders, "...I should apologize to her..." He looked straight on into those blue eyes, "Tomorrow...after the meeting, or after SP practice if they let me go...we should find her."

"That meeting is at 10am. SP practice is at noon. But for now...I think we all need to finish sleeping. But, most importantly..." The silver legend mused, reaching his hands back down again to pull up at the lowest hem of his t-shirt, hefting the cloth over his head to toss it aside and resume the hug from a moment before, "I need my proper pre-bedtime cuddles."