A/N: I am so sorry! I know this took forever. I've been, like, really busy. However, since I felt so bad about making you wait, I got pretty good inspiration and all. I enjoyed writing this chapter and it's pretty long, so I hope it was worth the awful wait. Please review :)

"Marco? Honey…" Dylan opened the door to his bedroom, seeing Marco laying down simply resting. "We have to go to the doctor."

He propped himself up on his elbows. "Why?

"Because," he answered, "we need to get you checked out. Come on, Marco, we made this appointment the day you left the hospital." He sighed.

He nodded. He then started to get dressed. "Now?" he asked.

Dylan walked over to lie on the bed, completely forgetting Marco's insecurities. Marco cleared his throat.

"Umm…Dylan?"

He looked up from his magazine, confused. "Oh!" he said. "You want me to leave?"

Marco nodded, uncomfortable. "I could go in the bathroom"

Dylan shook his head, "No, it's okay. Just tell me when you're ready. Oh," he remembered, "this time, I'll be driving, if that's alright with you."

Marco laughed gently. "Yes, that would be best."

Marco quietly dressed himself, trying not to think too much. He sighed. He really didn't want to go see the doctors at the hospital. He knew the questions they would ask. He also knew the first would probably be, 'Has he made any progress'. There would also probably be a hell of a lot of whispering. There always was lately because people didn't want him knowing anything, even knowing his own health would apparently be bad.

He finished getting ready and turned into the living room, seeing Dylan sitting on the chair near the door just waiting patiently for him. Marco tried to smile at him. He was making a huge effort to be the Marco Dylan knew because he knew Dylan was trying his best to make him feel comfortable.

"Let's get out of here," Dylan said taking his hand.

Marco and Dylan were seated next to each other in the waiting room simply…waiting. Dylan had never let go of Marco's hand the entire way there.

"You okay?" he asked, squeezing his hand.

He nodded. "Kinda scared," he muttered.

"I understand," said Dylan, "but you have nothing to worry about. I'm right here."

"Marco DelRossi?" called out an assistant. Dylan pulled Marco up.

"Is it okay if I go in with him?" he asked, pointing to the room.

She nodded. "Come on in, sweetheart. The doctor will be with you in a moment."

They barely had to wait a moment, for a second later, she was there.

"Marco, honey, how are you? I guess that's a stupid question for the time being, but I feel obligated to ask," she laughed.

Marco shrugged, not looking amused. "Okay," he answered vaguely.

She frowned slightly, shaking her head. "Is that all I get?" she asked.

Dylan sighed. "Come on, baby," he whispered.

Marco sighed as well, exasperated. "I don't know!" he said angrily. "I'm trying to….I don't know what, but I'm going…I am so lost. I'm letting everyone down. I feel things and then I think I imagined ever feeling them. I just…." Dylan knew at that point that he was going to cry, probably from all the stress. However, he expected Marco would try to cover it, or pretend he was fine. What he didn't expect was for Marco to throw himself into his arms.

Dylan was caught off guard. He rubbed Marco's back soothingly. "It's okay, baby," he whispered.

Dr. Diana sighed. "Marco, please look at me," she said.

Marco pulled off of Dylan's shoulder, but remained close to him. "I feel better," he told her softly.

She nodded. "Any memories? True memories?" she questioned.

"Sort of," he answered. "I remembered being in a crash. After that, though, I came home and felt like throwing up."

Once again, she nodded. "That's actually a good thing because, at least, you realize it was your memory and not just something you were told."

"Uh-huh," Marco responded, unenthusiastically. "So, why, exactly, am I here?" he asked.

"Oh my, you are impatient, hmm? Lie down, please," she ordered.

He did so gladly, but made Dylan tightly told his hand, which he definitely had no problem with.

"Sweetheart, tell me absolutely everything you remember. Close your eyes. I don't care how little. Just tell me anything."

Marco closed his eyes and thought. He was quiet for a while. Dylan gently rubbed his hand with his thumb.

Marco sighed. "Ummm…like I said, the crash," he responded.

"Well, what of it?" she asked, wanting to know more.

"Damn," he cursed, frustrated. "I don't know! I remember the moment of…just right before I blacked out. pasta," he laughed slightly, "and that's it."

"Hmm," she muttered. She turned to Dylan. "What do you think? More x-rays? I mean, the only reason I ask is it's not completely necessary and"

"If it's not necessary," Marco interrupted," then do NOT do it!" he yelled.

He, as well, turned to Dylan, and jumped down from the table. "Can we go home?" he pleaded.

Dylan pitied him. He was having that FEELING again, that annoying feeling where he'd look over and not see Marco, but a desperate child waiting for his parent to take him home.

"Can we?" he asked the doctor.

"Let me just talk to you for a moment, please." Dylan nodded.

"I'll be right back," he whispered. Marco didn't even bother to protest.

Diana led him into the hallway directly outside of the room. She leaned against the wall. "I'm going to be honest with you, Mr. Michalchuk, it's been about a month and…well, he's not making near the progress that I would have hoped. In the beginning, you were informed"

"He WILL come back," he said confidently to the doctor. "And we WILL be going."

She sighed, putting her hand to her forehead. "Very well. I just want you to be aware."

She led him back into the room to fetch Marco. "Marco, I'd like to put you on medication. It won't help your memory, I'm sorry to say, but it will make those headaches a lot less frequent and severe," she said, writing down a prescription.

"I don't need medicine. The headaches aren't that bad…"

"He's embarrassed to tell you he can't swallow pills," said Dylan.

"Oh," she gave a little laugh. "Well, we'll try to find you a liquid sweetheart. It's not a big deal."

"Just take this once every night and your headaches will fade. Alright, honey?"

He nodded, getting impatient. "Can we GO now, Dylan?" he asked.

"You're free to go," she laughed.

"So, what did you and she talk about?" Marco asked. There was a skip in his step as they walked to the car. He was happy to be out of there.

"Nothing, really," he said, closing the door.

"Ohhh…yeah, right," Marco rolled his eyes when he sat down in the car. "You're not going to tell me, hmm?"

He started the car. "Marco, she just wanted to talk about your progress."

"Dylan, just tell me!"

"She doesn't think you're doing well. She's trying to tell me that you're never getting it back!" He yelled angrily.

Marco knew Dylan hadn't wanted to yell. He didn't even want to tell Marco in the first place. He also knew Dylan was sorry for getting upset with him even if he didn't apologize out loud.

"And do you believe her?" Marco questioned, turning to Dylan who wouldn't face him.

"I'm going to bring you back, honey. Don't you worry about what she said," he smiled to emphasize his point.

……………………………………………………………………………….

"No!" Marco screamed, leaning against the kitchen sink.

"Marco, you are always the mature one. Don't start acting like a child now, baby. That's my job."

Marco closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I'll just throw it up," he had apparently decided.

Dylan laughed. "It'll make you feel better," he said with a forced patience.

"I feel fine," he argued.

"Marco, you sound like my sister with her logic," Dylan complained.

"Is that a bad thing?" he asked, never having met her in this condition.

Dylan laughed. "Don't go there right now. I don't want to turn you against your friend unless…well, I'll start doing that when you get better. Come on! It's one spoonful!"

"Easy for you to say," Marco said, and Dylan was sure he caught a knowing smirk on the boy's face. "You're not that one taking it, are you?"

"Marco, you know that show you've been watching lately that you like?" he asked, a light turning on in his head.

Marco nodded. "Well, it's on tonight…if you, you know, have your medicine…"

Marco smiled. "Hey! I can watch it myself! I don't need… Oh, wait…"

"Yeah," Dylan laughed, "You don't know what channel it's on, do you?"

Marco gulped it down incredibly fast while Dylan laughed the whole time. "Oh, jeez!" he yelled. "Water!"

Dylan grabbed the glass of water he'd had waiting for him. Marco finished it quickly. "You happy now?!" he asked.

Dylan hugged him, smiling brightly. "Very."

That night he and Marco were watching the television program that Marco had seemed to love so much. They sat the way Marco felt comfortable. They were close, but at a distance so that they weren't quite touching. There was one thing about Marco that Dylan had noticed significantly after the incident. He became so much calmer when he was paying attention to the TV. Honestly, he would lay down with a perfect stranger after he became interested in the show's plotline.

Dylan was brought out of his thoughts after hearing a laugh from next to him. He looked down at the younger boy. Considering the show was in Italian, Dylan had absolutely no idea what was going on, but he loved the way Marco was being entertained by it, so he tried to make up something that was being said on the TV in his own mind. It wasn't working quite well. What made Dylan really happy was the gentle smile on Marco's face. It showed he was content. Nothing was wrong, even though everything was lately. While he watch the TV, nothing WAS wrong.

Dylan, too, smiled. "What's happening?" he asked.

Marco looked excited that Dylan cared to know. He began to tell the story. His eyes lit up as he explained what so-and-so had done with her sister's boyfriend and…because of the speed at which Marco was talking, he could barely understand a word.

He told Marco when the show came back from the commercial break and, therefore, Marco had to discontinue his story so that he would miss none of it. For the last ten minutes of the episode, Dylan quietly played with Marco's hair.

When it ended, Dylan turned off the television, and he got up to leave the room.

"Aren't—can't you stay?" Marco asked, disappointed. Dylan smiled brightly.

"Well, if I'm invited, then of course!" He laid back down next to Marco. It had been a long day.

Marco was deep in thought. "You know," he said, after a while, "I feel so much safer around you than I did before."

Dylan smiled, trying to comfort him. "I'm so glad."

However, it seemed Marco wasn't quite finished yet. "I also want to remember myself, and the reason I get frustrated…I'm pushing myself, but it's really because of you."

Dylan jumped up immediately, shocked. "Have I been pressuring you?" he asked, alarmed.

"No, no," Marco said, laughing. "It's just…" he bit his lip. "I may not be myself, but I think I love you."

A/N: So…what did you think?