First off, I'd like to send a shout out to "You Know Who You Are." At first, I was very angry with your review, but after putting some thought into it, I decided that I was less angry and more... disappointed. Whether your assumptions were right or not doesn't matter to me. What set me over the edge was your utter lack of tact and self restraint. Honestly, if you had made your point in a PM to me, I would not have been mad at all. In fact, I probably would have applauded you and commended you. But to go so far and just put that up there willy nilly... you just gave off the impression of being an asshole. Now, I have no idea what your intentions were. For all I know, you were just trying to be a helpful critic. But you weren't helpful. In fact, if that was what you were aiming for, than you were totally counter productive; because I nearly stopped writing this story entirely because of you!

Now, heaven forbid, if you wrote that review for the sole purpose of getting a rise out of me, than congratualations again. You did it. But I'm telling you now: have your fill of this tiny rant while you can, because I'm not going to mention it again. I hope in the future you can be less crass about what you say. Everyone is entitle to their opinion about where they think this story is going to go... but you were just a bitch about it!

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or any of their characters. And apparently I don't own any original plot devices or ideas. But hey... I try my best with what I have. Can you blame me for doing anything but?

Please enjoy.

Because You're Always There

Chapter Three

My eyes cracked open, the strain of it aching my body all over. My hands and face were caked with dry mud as I whimpered in pain, my head throbbing heavily. My vision was too blurry to tell where I was, but I heard the busy scampering and the shouts of frantic people nearby.

I groaned and cried, tears cutting through the sea of dirt splattered against my cheeks. I panted, coughing at the very struggle of breathing. It seemed as if all the wind in my lungs had been knocked out of me and failed to return.

Sobbing, I tried to clear my eyes of the debris, but could hardly move my arms. They were strapped to machines and beeping consuls that echoed my own pounding heart. I let out another pained shout that mixed with my confusion into a jumble of unintelligible babbling.

"You have to let me see him!" I heard someone saying. "He's my son! He's my son, god dammit! Let me in!" There was a short scuffle and finally the person entered the room. "Stan, can you hear me? It's me, your mother."

"Mom," I whispered, my voice hoarse from the screaming. "W-what happened, I don't – I don't know what's going on."

"Oh Stan, you're alive," was all my mother could say. "Thank God you're still alive. Thank God."

At last my sight cleared and I gazed out into the hospital room, blinded by its floral wallpaper. I searched the area for my mother until at last I laid eyes on her. Her face was red with tears and she was sobbing just as much as I was. I looked past her to see my father guarding the doorway, trying to pick a fight with a doctor that was trying to explain why they couldn't be there.

"Mom, am I…" I started, but stopped to swallow, my throat parched. "Am I in a hospital?"

"Yes, honey, but you're… you're alright. I promise." I glanced back at her, and she had taken my hand into hers, staining her palms with the dirt that soiled my own. "You should get some rest, Stanley. You've been through a lot."

"Mom, where's Kyle?" I asked, my breathing getting ragged again and my heart pumping at inhuman speeds. "Where's Kyle? He was with me, I saw him! Where is he?"

"Shh, it'll be fine," she smiled weakly back. "He's going to be alright, honey. He's not in any pain. But the doctors say they're about to knock you out so you don't feel anything for a while. They say it isn't good that you're hurting so much."

"I don't want to," I stammered, still crying. "I want to see Kyle. I have to see Kyle!"

"Stanley, we can't take you from this room," my mother tried to make me understand. "You're hurt too much." The doctor finally pushed by my father and walked up to me with a syringe filled with some liquid. He forced it into my arm and poured the entire vile in. I gasped, realizing that they were putting me under.

"You'll let me see him, won't you?" I pleaded to my mom before I felt the drugs taking their toll. "Please, mom. You have to let me see him!"

"Don't worry, honey," she assured me. "I promise I'll take you to see him. As soon as you're better."

I closed my eyes, losing the strength to keep fighting the pain. The doctor pulled my parents away toward the door and started speaking with them. Slipping in and out of consciousness, I heard bits and pieces of their conversation:

The doctor was informing them of something. "Stan… worried he won't… Severe damage to… Such trauma… brain… potentially fatal… afraid he won't make it… Stan will have… under constant surveillance… proper medication… could survive."

My mother burst into another fit of tears. She broke through the sobs to say a few words. "He needs Kyle… are in love… let them see… you don't understand!"

I couldn't tell what the doctor did then. I can only imagine that he shook his head and walked away. Mom came back into the room and cried over me. "Oh, Stan," she sobbed. I let the drugs take me, and I slipped away, her words resonating within my ears.

"Oh, Stan…"

"Stan… Stan!"

I jumped up from my bed, cold sweat dripping from my heaving chest. My head was pounding and I reached up to cradle my forehead gingerly. A gasp escaped my throat as I looked over and saw a dark shadow against the window of my hospital room. His silhouette was like a black stain on the pearl white walls of the room, awash with the moonlight pouring in through the polished glass.

The dark figure moved forward and I saw him more clearly. It was Kyle. "Jesus dude," I panted, my heart still racing from the shock. I checked the nearby clock and it blinked the time in a red effulgent glow. "It's fucking 1:30 in the morning. What the hell are you doing here?"

"I had a nightmare," he mumbled, his eyes sad and low. "It was so vivid. You were clutching your head in terrible agony. You were screaming so loud, and I couldn't help you. In my dream you… you died. It just felt so real. I couldn't stay home and just go back to sleep. I thought it might have been a premonition or something. I came here as soon as I could."

"But…" I started, rubbing my still aching head. "How did you get in? They lock the doors at night."

"I found an air vent that was open," Kyle explained to me, coming closer. "I used it to get inside. It was big enough for me to crawl through easily." I glanced at his clothes that were streaked with dust and dirt. He caught my suspicious look and simpered weakly. "It was really dirty," he laughed, blissfully ignorant at how he had broken one of the hospital's strictest rules.

"Still, you shouldn't be here," I growled, concerned for him. What if he went to jail for this? I'd go crazy without him visiting me everyday!

"Are you kidding, dude?" Kyle smiled, his voice in a loud whisper. "Do you know how much shit we could do here at night and not get in trouble?"

"Kyle, people patrol the halls at night!" I informed harshly. "We could only do so much. Not to mention that some of the wings here, like the ER and the cafeteria, are open all night. Who knows how many people are up and about right now!"

"So, you're allowed to leave your room to go eat midnight snacks, and yet I'm not?" Kyle held his hands behind his back, puffing out his chest in defiance.

"You're not even supposed to be here!" I practically shouted, forgetting to keep my voice low. Kyle backed away with a start, the grin dancing across his lips shattering. He curled further into himself and stared at the floor. I sighed, brushing my black bangs out from my face. "Look, I'm still really hungry, now that you mention it. I'll go get something from Abigail, and we can share it together. Will that make you happy?"

Kyle looked up, his mouth agape in awe. Quickly he closed his eyes and bore his gleaming teeth in a smile. I loved how the moonlight played across his sparkling teeth. With a grunt, I wrenched myself from my overly comfortable bed, already missing its warmth.

My bare feet padded across the tile floor like they had so many nights before. I would bet my life on knowing the way to the cafeteria. Since there were hardly any windows in this wing of the hospital, it was always pitch black during the midnight hours. And yet, with only the far off shimmering of the cafeteria lights to guide me, I could make it there with no problem; the only thing tripping me up was the occasional misplaced wheelchair.

At first I was worried at leaving Kyle alone. What if the nurses checked up on the patients at night? What if they found him in my room and blew the whole thing out of proportion. Ugh, I could hear my mother already: "You're in the hospital trying to get better, and you're off sexing with some other boy during the night!"

I put out all thoughts of doubt and put on my best 'I just got out of bed' look. Abigail was sharp. She could read me like a book so well it wasn't even funny. I had to be extra careful to not let anything slip in front of her. I took a deep breath and plunged through the door, wiping my eyes and yawning.

"Don't give me that look," I heard from across the room. "You're not that tired, boy!"

Shit. Caught already.

"Hey, Abigail," I groaned, throwing off my already see-through disguise. Abigail was very nice African American woman, who was brutally honest, but warm enough that anyone could confide in her. In many ways, she reminded me of Chef… only you didn't want this cook singing any time soon. But I feared that Kyle sneaking into the hospital so late was something not even I could mention to her.

"What will it be tonight?" she asked, waving a slotted spoon around in the air. I took a second to steal a glance of the cafeteria. Surprisingly it was empty. Usually there were staff members there, watching a late night game or something like that. But the television was snowing softly in the distance, the area completely vacant. "Since it's technically morning already," Abigail continued. "How about some breakfast?"

"Pancakes and eggs," I said bluntly with a grin.

"Good thing too," the cook agreed, raising an eyebrow deftly. "Cause no matter what you asked for, I was gonna make breakfast anyway."

"Thanks," I said, laughing at her amusing attitude. Abigail poured me a glass of orange juice and I practically inhaled it. The liquid caused a twinge to rattle my tongue and I reveled in the sensation. Abigail cleared her throat, already working her magic on the stovetop.

"Should I…" she started, her eyes not leaving the batter in front of her. "Should I make something for Kyle as well?"

I nearly chocked on the glass. Okay, Abigail was sharp, but this was insane! "W-what do you mean?" I asked, cursing at how I had stuttered. "It's so late at night, and visiting hours end at eleven, you know that. How could Kyle be here?" I averted my gaze, hoping she wouldn't see the lie in my eyes.

She stopped to look at me, the frown on her face slowly warming into a smile. "Yes, of course," she said at last, her voice laced in mock innocence. "How silly of me."

I swallowed hard. Was she really fooled by my lame attempts? Abigail went back to cooking, scrambling the eggs just how I liked them; light and frothy. My mind strayed for a second as I wondered whether you could make scrambled eggs any other way than light and frothy.

In my pondering, my eyes wandered until they focused out into the hallway. My eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, I saw in horror that at the end of the hall was the open vent that Kyle had talked about!

If Kyle really had come through that way like he said he had, there was no way Abigail could have missed him. It now became all too clear that the chef was just trying to cover up Kyle's invasion; using plausible deniability if anyone approached her about it. I let out a sigh of relief and calmed down a little bit. Abigail was someone to be trusted. Abigail was a friend.

As I stared absently out into the hallway, a man in a white uniform ran by. I straightened up with surprise, but my emotions gradually turned from shock to confusion as another man ran past the door in the same direction. And then a third.

The third man was Jim, and he skidded to a halt as he glanced into the cafeteria. He did a hasty pivot on his heels and dashed inside, wheezing a little as if he'd been running all over the place.

"Abigail," he shouted, successfully catching her attention. "We have a situation!" My eyes grew wide in fear as eventually slowed to a trot and came right up to the counter. "There's a problem, and we need everybody on full alert. There's…" Jim broke off he looked down to me, furrowing his brow.

"Stan," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Come with me, we're going back to your room this instant!"

He grabbed me by the wrist and tugged me along, my heart beating in terror. One word was all I could think about: Kyle.