Warnings: language, poor coping mechanisms

Vacation was lovely and oodles of fun, but now it's back to work. If you're following along, please remember to leave a review, no matter how short or long, no matter if it's been said before.

Marco did not remember his first night in the hospital, though, technically, it wasn't night but very early morning by the time he was out of surgery and settled in ICU. He was still in the ICU when he woke up, extremely groggy, pain radiating through his arm and across his back and through his abdomen. It took him a moment to even realize he was in the hospital. This could be Heaven. Santa Muerte was there. I was so sure she came to guide me… The pain, however, made him doubt that he was dead, and once he picked up on the sounds around him, he knew he was in Rampart… alone.

Daylight was visible in the window. He was certainly allowed visitors at this point, so where was Mike? He should be here. I need him here. His heart rate went up, and it was at that moment that Dixie came in.

"Morning, tiger," she smiled, "It's good to see you awake."

"Wha' happened?" Marco asked roughly, "Wha's-? Where's Mike?"

"You fell through the floor at that fire, and you were hurt pretty bad. Dr. Brackett had to fix up some internal injuries you had, and your arm was broken, too. Compound radioulnar. We were really worried about you for a while. I had a waiting room full of firemen."

She did not answer his question about Mike, and he noticed, groggy even as he was. Dixie always had a reason for whatever she did. Fear clawed into his chest. Maybe Mike was hurt, too. Maybe he went in to help him and was injured.

"Dix, please… where's Mike? Izze-?"

"Mike's fine. He's not hurt."

"Then-… then why isn't he here?"

Marco's voice sounded pitiful even to him. Dixie gave a little sigh and told him, "I don't know, Marco. I just don't know. Here, I'm gonna take your vitals…"

That meant Mike wasn't outside, either. Marco felt his lip tremble. It wasn't right. Mike should here with him, right at his side, like always. Even before they were together, they kept each other company in the hospital. Maybe they'll come later. I've been asleep, after all.

"Alright, Marco," Dixie told him gently, "I'm gonna give you another dose of morphine to keep your pain down, and then Dr. Brackett said we should keep you in ICU for at least another twenty-four hours, then we'll move you to a recovery room and go from there. I'll go give Roy a call, too, and let him know you woke up so he can call everyone, but the morphine might put you out for a few hours again, okay?"

It wasn't exactly okay, but Marco didn't really have a choice. The pain was going up, and he knew his mental state wasn't helping. He tried to calm himself down. The morphine took care of that, however, better than he ever could. He hoped he would see Mike there beside him when he woke up in a few hours.

He didn't. Visiting hours were certainly over when he woke up again, dim streetlight peeking through the window. Marco felt high, felt warm and blurry and dizzy even though he was just lying in bed. Most of all, he felt lonely. His lip trembled again. Tears blurred his vision even worse than the morphine, rolled down his cheeks in hot streaks. He brought his uninjured hand up to his mouth in an attempt to stifle the noise. Dull pain throbbed in his abdomen and back as he tried to keep his sobs quiet.

"Marco, what is it? What hurts?"

Early stepped into the room, came to Marco's bedside, concern all over his face. The doctor settled a gentle hand on Marco's shoulder, and he queried again, "What is it, Marco?"

"I-I'm-… I feel so alone," Marco choked, "I don't wanna be alo-alone."

Fingers twitched against his shoulder. Early's voice was soft as he asked, "Why do you feel alone?"

"It's-… It's stupid."

"If it's upsetting you like this, it's not stupid. Please, I want to help."

Marco looked up at Early with blurred eyes. Just being in his presence was soothing, calming. If anyone around here was an angel sent to Earth, it's Dr. Early. Early was always kind and quiet if someone needed help, always seemed to know what someone needed to feel better, knew what they needed to hear.

"I just-… I just feel really alone," Marco told him, his voice quiet and brittle, "I woke up and… Both times I woke up today, I fel-felt like-… It-It's like I know no one came to see me and I just-"

Another sob snuck up on him, trying to force its way out. Early shushed him gently, said, "I don't think it's stupid, Marco. I think it makes perfect sense. Honestly, we've been shooing people away all day so you could rest properly. Otherwise, you would've had a stampede of family and friends in here, and you wouldn't be healing as well as you are now. I'm sorry it made you feel this way. Our intent was never to make you feel unloved or alone, only to make you well again. Even if we'd let the visitors in, you wouldn't have been much fun. I'll be sure to let visitors in tomorrow when we move you to recovery."

"You promise, doc?"

"I promise. Now, how are you feeling, physically? You had a close one…"

xXxXx

Mike woke with the sun in his old room at his parents' house. He came here yesterday after his shift ended, told only Cap where he was going, hadn't yet explained to his family why he was there. Obviously, they knew something was wrong, but no one had yet dared to broach the subject. One of his shiftmates would probably call later that day, asking if he would like to go to Rampart with them to see Marco, and he wasn't ready to answer yet.

He was actually still a little upset with his friends for hiding the truth from him during the rescue. No one told him Marco was the one wounded until he'd been pulled from the building, and Mike felt he had a right to be pissed off. The anger had crept up on him, had followed the shock and grief and fear, and though Chet had provided him the most comfort, it was Chet he was the most upset with. Chet knew about Mike and Marco. He knew what Marco meant to him more than anyone else. He should've told Mike sooner so he would have had a chance to help. Mike, above anything, did not like having information withheld from him. He never has.

There's a knock on his door, and he realized with a start he'd just been laying in bed for almost three hours. The door opened slowly, his mother poking her head in. When she saw he was awake, she stepped in and came to sit by him on his bed. She used his name sign, making the letter 'M' and brought it to her cheek twisting it once, combining the first letter of his name with the sign for 'shy'. She finally signed, -Tell me what's wrong. Please.-

He didn't reply at first. He heard his mom sigh.

-Did you fight with Marco?-

-No, Mom, no fight,- he replied, hesitated, added, -Marco got hurt on our last shift.-

His mom's eyebrows contracted, concern etched in her face, -Is he alright?-

-The doctor said he would recover fine, but he was hurt bad. He's at Rampart.-

-And you're not? Why are you here?-

-I'm upset.-

She cocked her head to the side, and it was Mike's turn to sigh. He sat up more fully, running his hand through his hair. After a moment, he explained, -I'm angry with my friends. They didn't tell me Marco was hurt until they brought him out of the building.-

-Maybe they had a reason. Maybe they didn't want you to worry… or do something stupid.-

-But I love him. I wanted to help him. They treated me like a kid.-

-Don't punish Marco, though. He loves you, too, and he needs you.-

Mike felt tears burn in his eyes. He didn't want to hurt Marco, would die before hurting him, but this had all been too much.

-Mom… I'm scared.-

She didn't reply, so he continued, -This is the closest I've come to losing him since we've been together. I don't want to lose him. I can't lose him.-

-Then you should tell him that, as if he doesn't know. No one ever said love was easy… and it's never going to be easy for the two of you, for many reasons. This is only a hurdle.-

Her faith in them was wonderful, but Mike was beginning to wonder if it was misplaced. Everything had gone so well for so long that Mike almost forgot there were hazards associated with their career, that either one could feasibly die on any given shift, that Marco was more likely to go than he was. Mike's lip trembled, his emotions ready to run wild now.

He wanted to go sit with his boyfriend in Rampart, wanted to hold his hand and kiss his lips and just be there, wanted to more than anything… but he was scared. Such a visit would be a powerful reminder of Marco's mortality. He would see the healing wounds and the broken arm and the bruises and be reminded that Marco, who he loved more than anything, could have died not even thirty-six hours ago. Mike's hands stuttered out, -Mom… Mom, I don't know if I can do this anymore. I can't lose him. I can't watch him get hurt again.-

-You've always known it could be a possibility. You're firemen. You get hurt. You've both been hurt before.-

-But not like this! Marco almost died!-

His mom sighed, told him, -I can't tell you what to do. You do what you feel is right, Mike. You trust yourself. Trust your instincts.-

-What if-? What I'm wrong?-

-You won't be. Now, come down for breakfast. You need to eat.-

-Later, Mom…-

She smiled at him but still looked a little sad anyway. He felt her gentle hand on his cheek. I'm not coming down for breakfast and she knows it. His mom got up and went to the door, stopped in the doorway, crossed her arms over her chest and pointed at Mike. He smiled and mimicked her gesture. Love you, too. When she shut the door, however, Mike let his smile fall, his lip trembling once more. He needed some time alone to think. Mike needed to figure out which was worse: a world where Marco was alive and out of reach or one where he was gone for good.

xXxXx

Only when he pulled up in front of Mike's parents' house did Chet really begin to think he'd made a rash decision, but he needed to try and fix this. Mike and Marco were his best friends (two of them, anyway), and he did not want them to be unhappy. Two days ago, Marco was injured falling through a set of stairs. He would hopefully be discharged soon, and he would need someone to help take care of him. Mike was by far the best candidate… though apparently an unwilling one at this point. We go back on shift in two days. I want this fixed by then. Perhaps he wasn't the best candidate to fix it, but he'd be damned if he didn't try.

The girl who answered the door was a teenager with long auburn hair, a dusting of freckles, and eyes a bright, golden brown. She looked at him rather quizzically, asking, "Can I help you?"

"Possibly. Is Mike Stoker here?"

"Who wants to know?"

"I'm Chet Kelly. I work with Mike at Station 51. I-uh… I'm kinda worried about him, and he wasn't anywhere else. I figured he might be here… plus, I can see his truck in the driveway."

The girl squinted at him a little before finally saying, "I guess you can come in for a minute. Follow me," and stepping aside to let him in, continuing, "You can wait here in the sitting room while I get my grandma. Umm… just don't move, okay?"

"I'll be right here."

She hurried off, giving Chet time to look around. I never knew Mike grew up like this. The sitting room alone was elegant beyond anything Chet had ever seen: fine tile floors, a large fireplace, a crystal chandelier. Photographs adorned the mantelpiece almost to excess, covering nearly every available flat surface. It was endearing, honestly. His mother kept photographs in their apartment once upon a time, but not like this.

Chet heard footsteps and turned. The girl returned with a woman with greying hair and a lightly-lined face. They both had their hands up, weaving different shapes. Sign language. That's right. Mike's parents are deaf. He hadn't seen a hearing aid on the girl, and she'd answered him well enough, so he assumed she wasn't deaf. He politely got to his feet as they approached and held out his hand to the older woman. The girl spoke up, "I'm Rose Carlisle. This is my grandma, Susan Stoker, and Mike is my uncle."

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Chet Kelly. I work with Mike and Marco."

Mrs. Stoker began signing, and Rose translated, "How is Marco doing?"

"He's okay, I guess. He's healin' nicely, and Dr. Brackett says he oughta be able to go home in a couple days. That's, uh… That's why I'm here. See, Mike and Marco-"

"I know all about Mike and Marco. Don't worry about that."

"Well, I went to see Marco this morning, and he was really upset because Mike hasn't come to see him yet," Chet explained, "I was hopin' I'd be able to talk to him, convince him to come to Rampart."

Mrs. Stoker looked sad, shook her head faintly. Rose translated, "I can let you try to convince him, but I'm not sure how much good it'll do. You know Mike, and so you know he can be stubborn. I don't know if he's made up his mind yet, but if it has, it won't be easy to change."

"I'm willing to try. Please… I wanna talk to him, make sure he's okay."

This time, Rose waited until Mrs. Stoker was done signing to speak.

"He's still in his room. Follow me," she said, getting to her feet and leading Chet to a set of wide stairs, "Honestly, I'm a little worried about Uncle Mike. He's been really down since Uncle Marco got hurt. He's barely left his room at all."

She stepped up and knocked on a door, calling, "Uncle Mike? Uncle Mike, it's Rosie."

"What is it, Rosie?"

"There's someone here to see you."

"Tell 'em I'm not here."

"That's not gonna work, Mike," Chet told him through the door, "I already know you're here."

"Go away, Chet."

"No way. I gotta talk to ya."

"Can't it wait?"

"Hell no. Now, you know I'm just as stubborn as you are, probably more, so you know I'm more than willing to sit here 'til you decide to talk to me."

There was a long pause.

"Door's open, Chet."

Finally… Chet pushed open the door and carefully closed it behind him. Mike was sitting on his bed, still in only his pajama pants even though it was early afternoon. The room itself was understated, and though it had probably been his childhood room, there was no evidence of it. Everything was in shades of dark green.

"Why are you here, Chet?" Mike asked impatiently.

"Why else would I be here?"

He was sure he heard Mike roll his eyes. He started, "Look, Chet, I dunno why you're-"

"Like hell you don't know why I'm here," Chet spat, rounding on his friend suddenly, "Marco's been in the hospital for over two days now, and you haven't been there. I went and saw him before you did, and you know what? He's lonely. He's sad. He's scared. He even asked me if we were lyin' to him about you bein' okay 'cause he's sure the only reason you haven't been there is because you're dead!"

"Chet, stop-!"

"No! I won't! He was crying, Mike! I had to sit there and see him cry because someone who's supposed to love him more than anything won't some see him in the fuckin' hospital!"

"Stop it!"

Chet didn't quite know what happened until it was over. He must have made a loud noise when Mike knocked him to the floor, loud enough for Rose to hear and Mrs. Stoker to feel. Mike had him pinned, the heels of his hands pressing into Chet's shoulders, the rest of his weight pressing on his thighs. He'd never seen Mike so angry before. He hadn't thought it would be quite this scary. Chet swallowed, wet his lips, waited.

"Mike, please," he said finally when Mike didn't speak, "You're actin' like I don't get it when you know I do."

There was a long moment in which neither of them moved except for Mike's heaving chest. The blue eyes bored into Chet's during the silence. Just as quickly as he took Chet down, Mike got to his feet and went back to his bed to sit down. Chet slowly pushed himself up, not wanting to startle Mike. We're still alone, so Rose and Mrs. Stoker must just wanna let us hash it out. He sat by Mike. A warm breeze blew through the by the bed, smelled clean and fresh.

"I'm sorry, Mike," Chet said softly, "I didn't mean to- well, to sound mean. I just don't get it, man."

"You told me you did. You told me you do the same thing."

"Do what?"

"Distance yourself."

"Yeah, I do it, but- Jesus, Mike, I told you not to. I'm pretty fucked up, after all. I'm not a role model for healthy relationships by any stretch. Tell me what's goin' on, babe. Why are you doin' this?" Chet asked.

"I just-… I'm scared, Chet," he admitted, his voice quiet, "I almost lost him. I-I love him so much… so much I can't imagine life without him anymore. Just like that, in less than ten minutes, it was almost all over. I just can't-"

His voice broke off. Chet reached out and put a hand on his bicep, squeezing gently. He got the sinking feeling he might be getting a repeat of what happened that morning when he visited Marco. Tears sat in Mike's eyes.

"I'm sorry…" Mike spoke up after a moment, "I'm just scared. I don't wanna lose him."

"I know you don't wanna lose him, but what do you think's gonna happen if you push him away, huh?"

"I'm-I'm not pushing him-"

"You are. I know what pushing away looks like. I'm an expert, remember?" Chet told him, sighed, continued in a gentler voice, "Look, I don't want you to lose Marco, either. I care about both of you a whole lot. I want you to be happy, okay? I'm gonna tell ya right now, if you push him into walkin' away, no one is gonna be happy, least of all you."

Mike's lip trembled. He refused to look at Chet.

"How-? Umm… how is he? Marco?"

His voice was quiet and fearful and maybe a bit sad.

Chet shrugged, "He's recovering. He really wasn't hurt as bad as we thought. I mean, he had that internal bleeding from the ruptured spleen, but that was the worst of it, I think. Really, we're lucky he didn't breathe in too many chemicals, didn't breathe a ton of CO or cyanide. He'd be pretty fucked if he did. He's just-… Marco's really upset. Like I said, he thinks you're hurt bad and we won't tell him."

"And you saw him?"

"Yeah, this morning. He was sad… cried some, like I said. I think Johnny's there with him now, but it's you he wants to see."

Mike shook his head, saying, "I can't see him hurt-"

"Too bad," Chet snapped, "You're both firemen. Someone's bound to get hurt again. Even if you weren't firemen, people get hurt every day. We'd be out of a job if they didn't. What happens if you both quit and one of ya gets hit by a car? Would you be doin' all this then?"

"Sounds like you did," Mike shot back.

"I'm an idiot, though. I'm stupid and immature, and I'm hardly someone to model your life after. I thought we'd been through this, babe. Do as I say, not as I do."

Silence reigned between them for a long moment. Chet gave a little sigh, returned to a softer and gentler tone, explained, "Marco misses you. A lot. He's sad and angry and confused because he doesn't know why you aren't there with him. He couldn't even talk about it without chokin' up and crying, and I don't blame him one bit. He-… He really, really misses you."

Mike finally looked up at him. Chet took one look at the wet eyes and trembling lip and couldn't stop himself. He pulled Mike in for a hug, wrapping his arms around his friend. Mike tried to remain stoic, tried to cry quietly. Please fix this, Mike. I can't choose sides. He tightened the embrace.

xXxXx

By his fifth day in the hospital, Marco was angry, bore an anger based in sadness and loneliness. Mike was certainly not ill or injured as he'd initially suspected, so he could think of no logical reason for his boyfriend to not come see him while he was in recovery in the hospital. No, he was definitely angry now.

Johnny had been there with him last night, when the anger first manifested, and he'd helped a bit. He'd managed to keep his mind off everything while he was there. Johnny was a good kid when he put his mind to it, after all. Now though… There was no one with him now to distract him. He sighed, looked down at his broken arm, shifted uncomfortably in the hospital bed. Brackett told him it would take almost two months to recover, two months for his arm and internal injuries to fully heal, which meant at least two months of no work, although he might be able to get light duty somewhere in the department. He'd rather be busy, especially since he and Mike were going through trouble just now.

I just don't know what I could've done to make him hate me all of the sudden. They'd been fine before his accident, just before it. Maybe he was missing something, though he had no idea what it could be. None of his friends had been any help, either. When Mike decided to abandon Marco, he apparently abandoned everyone else at 51s, as well. No one seemed to know where he was save for Cap, and Cap had apparently been sworn to secrecy.

Marco sighed again. He just wanted to be told he could leave so his sister could pick him up and take him home. She was already taking care of the cats. That's another thing I'm pissed about. He just wanted to leave. He'd go stay with Cari and Stela and collect his thoughts and maybe figure out what the hell was going on with Mike. There was a knock on the door.

Never before had Marco felt anger when he saw Mike, but he sure felt it right now. Mike looked sheepish and repentant and scared, but Marco didn't care. He didn't want to kiss away those bad emotions this time. He actually felt quite vindicated. Neither of them said anything for a long moment, tension filling the small room.

"Brackett- uh… Brackett said you're good to go home now."

"Yeah. He said I might get discharged today. I told my sister to be waiting by the phone."

Mike gave a soft "Oh," but said nothing else. The words must've stung the way Marco intended. Unable to resist another barb, Marco added, "I mean, Cari already has the cats, so I might as well crash there, too."

That one actually made Mike wince.

"Marco, look, I-I'm-… I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to-… I was just so scared an-"

"Scared?" Marco scoffed, "You were scared? Stoker, I woke up alone and confused in a fuckin' hospital room. My head hurt, my arm, my back, even my insides. I could barely remember what happened, and I was alone. My first day in here I only saw Dixie and Early. When I never saw you, I thought you died or-or were hurt or somethin' like that, 'cause why else would you not be here? There was no other conceivable reason for you to not be here. Don't sit an-and tell me you were scared."

"Please, Marco-"

"I don't wanna talk to you right now."

Mike swallowed, tears visible in his eyes. Marco was not swayed.

"I'm gonna stay with Cari and Stela for a bit," Marco told him, "You can have the apartment. It's close to the station and you still hafta go to work."

"Babe, please, I'm-"

"I'll call Cari to come get me."

This was a cold thing he was doing, but it felt so right in the moment. Guilt would probably tear him apart later, but for now… he felt good. Mike hastily wiped away a tear that fell, nodded faintly, stepped back to leave, stopped at the door. He turned to look at Marco, sadness and fear etched into his face, and whispered, "I really am very sorry… and I still love you very much."

He left before Marco could reply, not that Marco had one waiting. He wasn't sure how to respond. Somewhere, deep down, he was certain he really did still love Mike, but he was just so damn angry right now he didn't feel like looking that hard. Dixie came in not long after.

"Marco, is everything alright? I just saw Mike out in the hallway. He looked pretty upset."

"Yeah… it's fine."

"It doesn't look fine to me. You wanna tell me about it?"

"Not really, no."

Dixie sighed quietly and came closer, carefully sitting on the edge of the hospital bed.

"You don't hafta talk to me about what's going on between you and Mike," she told him gently, "but if it's upsetting you both, you probably should talk to someone. You were very agitated when you woke up and Mike wasn't here. Now, Mike came to see you today, and he left lookin' like he was gonna cry. That looks to me like some kind of fight, Marco."

"It was what it looked like."

She raised an eyebrow but said nothing else on the matter, instead handing over discharge papers and telling him, "Dr. Brackett says you're good to go. No strenuous activities for a couple weeks, don't get the cast wet, and if you feel really bad, come right in, alright? There's the number on here for the orthopedist, Dr. Richard Cortland. He'll follow up with you on your arm. Do you have a change of clothes?"

"Yeah, Chet brought me some yesterday."

"You have a ride home?"

"Callin' my sister."

He finally looked up at Dixie properly. She gave him a soft smile and rested her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. She said, "You call if you need anything, okay?"

"I will, Dix. Promise."

"Good, now, do you need any help getting dressed?"

"I dunno… I might."

Dixie helped him into his clothes, which was slightly more difficult than he expected, and wheeled him out to his sister's car.

"Oh, Marquiño," Cari said, helping him into the car, "Thank you so much, Nurse McCall. Marco, c'mon, I'm taking you to Mama's first. She's been worried sick and- Oh, Nurse McCall, are there any special instructions for him?"

"He's got a paper with him, Miss Lopez. He knows the rules."

"Good. Thank you again. Alright, Marco… we're goin' to Mama's."

"Do we have to?"

"Si, we do. Look, we don't have to stay long. After a while, just tell her you're tired and wanna go home and sleep," Cari told him, "and I'll take you to your apart-"

"I was hoping I could stay with you and Stela for a bit," Marco blurted, extremely thankful they were already in the car and ready to go, Dixie headed into the hospital building.

"Why? Is Mike working? Is that why he couldn't pick you up?"

"No… he isn't working today."

"Does this have something to do with why we have the cats?"

"Yeah. He didn't come to see me in the hospital until today," Marco explained softly, "From what I heard, Mike didn't even go home after that shift ended. He just kinda ran away to his parents' place. He never even tried to contact me. I told him he could stay at the apartment, and I would stay somewhere else for a little while."

"So, you-? You had a fight?"

"Guess so."

It was kind of a surreal thought. He and Mike had never fought before. They'd had their minor disagreements, certainly, but they were easily overcome. This was something else entirely.

"I just don't know why he wouldn't come to visit me," he said after a moment.

"He didn't say?"

"He said he was scared. Stupid…"

"Kinda stupid, I guess… but not entirely. I can see why he was scared. You almost died, Marquiño. He loves you very much, and he almost lost you. People don't always react to things like that in a logical way, or at least not ways we think are logical."

"I guess…"

He thought of Mike's grief, the anger born of intense loss. Did he get that way this time? Did he break anything? There was a lump growing in his throat he desperately tried to fight. He still wanted to be mad. He still was mad, though he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to stay that way.