A/N: This was never supposed to have a second chapter. Then plot happened. Also, my medical knowledge is limited to watching episodes of House and whatever I can find on Wikipedia. Don't judge me on that.

He wasn't sure how long he had been running, but his chest was heaving and legs burning so he supposed quite a while. Honestly though, he couldn't even remember where he was going or what he was running from. A light suddenly appeared in front of him, blindingly bright and he was forced to lift his arms to shield his eyes. Pain erupted from his arms and with horror, he watched as they fell to the ground, severed from his body. A dark figure stood silhouetted against the blinding light and it moved towards him, smoothly, confidently. He took a step back, fear blossoming in his aching chest. The figure disappeared suddenly and he was left looking at the vaguely familiar light again. A low whistle reverberated through his chest. Where did…? And then the figure was in front of him, on top of him, pinning him to the ground. Panic was beginning to cloud all reason as he struggled against the dark figure, but it was futile. Backlit as the figure was, it was impossible to make out its expression, but he could see the cold, impassive eyes, glowing from its shadowy face. A dark hand covered his face, blinding him. He could feel the figure sitting heavily on him, pushing the air from his chest. Every breath was becoming a struggle. I can't… Something shoved its way into his mouth. Horrified, he tried to shake his head, lift his arms, even clench his teeth, but nothing worked. He gagged as the thing moved to the back of his mouth and shoved its way down his throat. Wait! Stop!... I can't breathe… He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears, wild and erratic. The thing snaking down his throat reached his chest and pain like he'd never known erupted from it. He could actually feel his heart stutter as something wrapped around it and squeezed.No! Don't!... He thrashed, for all the good it did, adrenalized terror fueling his movements. His widened eyes locked with the impassive eyes of the figure. Please… Don't… Without a single change in its expression, the figure leaned forward and squeezed again. Warm, wet pain erupted in his chest as his pulse thundered then stopped entirely…

"Nnngh." Everything hurt. Get off…! His arms still wouldn't move and the pain was incredible. He blinked, the light painful, but not blinding. He was looking at a ceiling. Where…? A head suddenly blocked the light and he felt a moment of terror at the indistinct figure before its features sharpened into a face wearing glasses and a bright smile.

"-aya." He hadn't realized the figure was speaking to him until he saw the mouth move, a slight crease of worry forming in the brow.

"Nnngh." He groaned again, trying to wrap his sluggish thoughts around where he was, who this person was and what the hell had happened to him. The uncertainty was worrying. He wasn't sure why, but he had the vague sense he was in danger.

"Izaya," The face said again, a little more concern this time. Shinra. I'm at Shinra's. Izaya relaxed a little and Shinra seemed pleased with the recognition in his eyes. The doctor's smile returned and he reached for Izaya's face, removing the breathing mask Izaya hadn't noticed until that moment.

"Izaya?" The underground doctor asked for at least the third time.

"Shinra." He croaked out in reply, frowning at the weak sound of his voice.

"Ah, hang on," Shinra reached for the bedside table, bringing a glass of water into view. He held the straw for Izaya who drank greedily. He hadn't realized how thirsty he was until he started , but now-

"Slow down," Shinra cautioned. As if on cue, Izaya choked and coughed.

It hurt like all the fires of hell concentrated into the center of his chest.

For a moment he thought he would die, or at the very least pass out from the intense wave of pain. The tickle in his throat had not abated however, and he was forced to cough again, enduring another stab of pain. Izaya could feel his eyes tearing from pain, vision blackening at the edges as he coughed again. When he finally managed to stop, he glared at Shinra through watering eyes.

"I warned you," Shinra grinned, innocently. "So, how are you feeling?"

"Like I got hit by a train-"

A low whistle sounded, and the ground trembled. A train flew by, rattling the tracks and illuminating the tall figure standing in front of him in brief glimpses.

Izaya frowned. Had that been a dream? What had actually happened?

"-all things considered," Shinra was saying, busying himself with an IV pole next to Izaya's bed, "you have seven broken ribs, two broken arms, a broken collarbone, dislocated shoulder, a probably concussion and one fantastic black eye." Izaya grimaced at the list of injuries, a little taken aback. Shinra, however turned to look him in the eye, his tone dropping to a more serious note.

"Also, you went through 12 liters of blood transfusion, the average human has 5 liters in their body by the way, and both of your lungs collapsed. You were on a ventilator until recently when you finally started breathing normally again. And your heart stopped." Izaya felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck at those words, especially when Shinra added: "Twice." The doctor turned away but Izaya could see the weariness Shinra tried to hide. It was his specialty after all.

"The second time…" Shinra said quietly, eyes far away, "I really thought…" The silence hung in the air a moment, louder than anything that could be said. Shinra broke it suddenly, grinning again.

"Seriously, if you had died I couldn't forgive you, you know. I have a perfect record so far. Never lost a patient." Izaya rolled his eyes, trying to shove down the uncomfortable knowledge of his own mortality.

"How long have I been here?" He suddenly asked, wondering how many appointments he was going to have to reschedule or apologize for missing.

"Three months." Shinra answered, absently, rifling through a cupboard stocked with medication. He turned back to Izaya's aghast face, grinning mischievously.

"Bastard," Izaya spat out, equally relieved and irritated. Shinra just grinned wider.

"It's been nearly five days," At Izaya's raised eyebrow, Shinra added, "honestly." Five days?! I've been out for five days?! Shinra came over to his bedside, with a syringe of clear liquid.

"I'm going to give you some extra morphine for now to help with the pain. You should try to get some more sleep." Izaya frowned. He hated the way the narcotics clouded his mind, but the pain really was wearing on him. He knew Shinra was aware that the very fact he wasn't protesting was an indication of just how badly his body ached.

"I didn't want to increase your dose until your breathing stabilized, but you seem to be doing well now," Shinra was rambling as he depressed the plunger on the syringe, depositing the morphine into Izaya's IV. "If you feel any shortness of breath though, make sure you let me know immediately."

A question suddenly occurred to Izaya. He looked through his memories and found the answer frustratingly missing. The drug was already starting to work though and he could feel his eyelids growing heavy and thoughts turning sluggish.

"Shinra? What happened?" Was his voice slurring already?

"I don't know the details myself," Shinra was saying. Why did his voice sound so far away? He was still standing right next to him as far as Izaya could tell. "Celty didn't know and Shizuo didn't really say much when they brought you here."

"Shiiizuushaaa?" He was definitely slurring words now. Shizuo had…?

Shizuo hoisted him up by the front of his shirt until they were eye level, Izaya's ribs loudly protesting the motion. The edges of his vision were fuzzing but he glared directly in front of him; at Shizuo's brown eyes, usually dark with anger, now flat and cold. He hadn't responded to a single thing Izaya had said. Not even the taunt about Kasuka disowning him as a brother out of shame. Izaya reached for his switchblade, but Shizuo caught his arm before his fingers could touch it. Shizuo's expression was completely devoid of any emotion; anger, satisfaction, guilt, not even a spark of sadistic joy as the blond bent Izaya's elbow backwards until it gave with a wet snap…

DRRR

Shinra sighed as Izaya's eyes finally closed. He hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told the other of his condition. Disposing of the used syringe, the underground doctor washed his hands, his mind wandering back to the evening five nights ago. He and Celty had just settled into the couch, ready for their weekly movie night, him with a giant bowl of popcorn and her with an overstuffed pillow when Celty's phone had rang.

A/N: Izaya is difficult to write. I feel like I make him too human.