Woohoo! Thanks again for all the reviews!

When I started writing this story I wasn't sure if you'd like it, so I'm glad and thankful beyond words that you guys do like it. Your comments are as always highly appreciated and it is what keeps me going XD

This one is rather short again, but the next one is already on its way ;3

Now, go on and have fun and as always: tell me what you think!

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The very moment John slammed into consciousness was agonizing. With a choked cry on his lips he awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright in his bed and his eyes flicked wide open. His heart was hammering hard against his chest, stealing his breath away and he was trembling all over as the memories assailed him, bringing with pure and crystal clear panic and fear. Through the noise of his whirling thoughts and emotions he realized that he wasn't in the recovery room and his head snapped around to look after Randy… but he wasn't there…

"No… nonono, no, Randy," he whispered breathless, full of despair, his voice becoming louder and louder as his panic and fear grew. "Randy!"

More falling than climbing out of the bed John stumbled into the middle of the room, frantically looking around but he couldn't find a sign of the younger man. His heart sped up even more and he felt his knees go weak and suddenly there was a nurse, talking to him, telling him to calm down and she steered him back to the bed. He didn't want to go back…

"Where's Randy?" he choked out, trying to shake her hands off. "Where is he?!"

"Sir, you need to calm down," she said insistently and pushed him gently backwards until the back of his thighs connected with the mattress and involuntary he sat down. "Mr. Orton is alive and Dr. Green will be here in a minute to explain everything."

John froze, staring at her with wide-eyed as her words reached through the haze that engulfed his mind. He blinked at her, very slowly.

"He's alive…" John breathed and leaned forward into the arms of the young woman as the trembling increased.

"Yeah, he's alive but you really need to calm down, sir," she urged.

Randy was alive… god, he was alive… Utter relief flooded him then but it was stopped by an unsettling question. Why wasn't Randy here? John screwed his eyes shut and tried to breathe deeply, tried to calm down. He needed to. They wouldn't let him see Randy if he didn't. He bit back a pained groan as the moment in the recovery room came back to him. Those horrifying pictures… and the fear and the panic he'd felt… that Randy would die…

Faintly he felt a hand settle on his shoulder and a light squeeze and then his name was being said calmingly. He knew that voice and drawing back from the nurse he looked up to Dr. Green. The man had a confident expression on his face but John felt by far not as confident as this expression probably should make him feel. Not after what had happened to Randy. Again his shoulder was squeezed while the medic told the nurse to go.

"Where's Randy?" John asked, the lingering trembling audible in his voice.

Releasing John's shoulder Dr. Green made a quick checkup of his condition, replying: "He's at the ICU."

Swallowing hard he tried to process the answer, whispering: "At the ICU? What's wrong with him? I thought the surgery went fine? He said that… he can't see…"

With a slight nod the doctor sat down beside John, scribbling something into the medical record, before he turned to face him.

"We brought him there for medical observation and we plan on releasing him from the ICU tomorrow," the man began to explain. "As I told you already, the surgery went fine. We made a few examinations in the past hours and there is no evidence of a cerebral hemorrhage. The fact that he can't see is most likely an aftereffect of the pressure the tumor has given the area. I'm confident that he will regain sight and the functionality of his right hand eventually. It might take some time though. What happened at the recovery room was an epileptic seizure. It's a rare but possible complication after such a surgery. We don't expect a second seizure."

An epileptic seizure. Groaning John leaned forward and bracing his elbows on his knees, he buried his face in his hands. Why did things only become worse than better? As if Randy hadn't suffered enough… And John felt his swirling emotions and feelings and thoughts shut down, wiped away by a queasy numbness. It had been too much…

"How's Randy doing?" he asked weakly.

There was a sigh coming from the medic that made John look up, right into the suddenly blank face of the man sitting beside him.

"He's awake. The first thing he did when he came around was asking for you. But… since the moment we told him that you had a breakdown, he refuses to speak."

It should have made him feel good that the first thing Randy had done after waking up was asking for him, but it didn't pierce through the queasy numbness and even if, it would have been swept away by everything that was held at bay by this numbness. And why was Randy refusing to speak? Frowning John gazed around for a clock but found none.

"How long have I been out?"

Dr. Green glanced at his watch and stated: "About five hours. I guess you want to see him?"

x

The darkness around him was frightening. Even more because he knew… he was the only one who was kept prisoner by this darkness. He fucking knew that the room he was in was brightly lit, he knew that the room was white, that he was surrounded by medical equipment and he knew that there were other beds with other patient… He knew all this, he heard it goddammit, but he couldn't see a fucking thing, only endless blackness and it was paralyzing and it was scaring the shit out of him.

He settled a forearm over his eyes to hide from the lights he couldn't see, trying to ignore the yearning he felt… for John. He'd never before in his life associated yearning with a person… well, maybe except for his little girl. And now… for John. That yearning would grow and he knew it would grow to the point beyond all bearing.

"John…"

The name passed his lips as barely a breath and his heart hoped that there would be an answer. But there was none. No warm words, no touch… His thoughts drifted back to the moment he'd woken up. Again…

The darkness was still there and it stayed, no matter how often he blinked, no matter how wide he opened his eyes. It hadn't been a bad dream. This was real, too real. He was… blind. The first time he'd woken up and realized he couldn't see his whole being had exploded into freezing cold panic and not even John's voice, his touch had helped him to calm down. He remembered a sudden and strange feeling, not quite pain… but something close to it. There was a feeling like he was falling. And then… nothing. A black-out. And maybe this now should have been the moment to panic again, but he was too tired. He wanted to shift, to reach out for John, but he was too exhausted.

"Johnny…?" he mumbled and a moment later he felt a touch on his shoulder.

It wasn't John's hand. Someone was speaking to him. It wasn't John's voice. It was… Dr. Green and he was telling him to stay calm but Randy didn't care right now what the man had to say.

"Where's John?" he whispered, almost begged.

And a brief moment there was no answer, only this touch on his shoulder and he wanted to shrug it off, because it didn't feel right, but moving his shoulder felt like moving a mountain and stopping his vain attempt to move, he surrendered to the weariness which weighed down on him. Then the medic spoke again, explaining what had happened and with every word he felt a sickness grow in the pit of his guts. And then he told him that John had a breakdown… And to the sickness added guilt and a searing pain in his chest…

After that moment the doc had tried to make him talk but he didn't want to. He couldn't. It had been too much. And over the past hours there had been various examinations, exhausting him to the core. And all he could do was lying there in his own darkened world, listening and… thinking.

About John. About everything John had gone through… because of him. Every single tear and plea, every warm touch and kiss… everything replayed in Randy's mind. It all had gone far beyond a point one should have to endure.

He loved John more than he'd loved anyone before in his entire life. And that was why he had to make it stop.

Groaning Randy took his arm away from his eyes and involuntary he tried to blink the darkness away. He couldn't help the bitter smile tugging at his lips as nothing changed. The fact that he couldn't move his legs had been devastating enough, but it had been something he would have been able to cope with… over the time. And with John at his side. But now? He was a cripple, a nursing case. Oh yeah, the doctor had told him that he would be able to move his right hand again, sooner or later, that he would most likely regain his sight. Sooner or later. Maybe. And maybe not.

What if he would never be able to see again? It would be like sitting in the middle of nowhere. There was this scene in his head, where he found himself alone and sitting in this goddamn wheelchair, trapped in the darkness without an idea where he was and where to go… It would be like that, wouldn't it? Every day, every minute. And he didn't want to burden John with it, being a babysitter for him for the rest of his life. He loved him too much to do that to him. He should never have given in to him in the first place, should have sent him away. There had been enough moments to end this…

There was a sudden touch on his shoulder and Randy flinched in surprise. He hadn't heard anyone approaching him.

This time it was John's hand and his voice as he oh so very tentatively spoke: "Ran?"

Turning his face away Randy tried to shrug the hand off but it stayed there. Only as he scooted away, creating a little distance between them he felt the touch vanish. Reluctantly though. And for a heartbeat Randy was tempted to reach up and hold it there. But only for a moment.

It would end. Now.

Bastard…

Hesitatingly John pulled a chair closer to Randy's bed and sat down, uncertain how to react to the younger man's dismissive behavior. It wasn't what he'd expected and it made his heart drop. He wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do, but he reached out nevertheless, taking hold of Randy's right hand who moved it out of John's reach at the first touch. And his heart dropped even more, bringing an ache with.

"Dr. Green told me everything," John said quietly, thinking that it might be the better start to talk… than to touch, since Randy obviously didn't want to be touched right now. "And he said that you refuse to speak. What's wrong, babe?"

Randy tilted his head back, breathing out audibly and John fell silent beside him. Why did it have to be so hard…? His heartbeat sped up and he cursed silently because the heart monitor echoed it immediately. And it had John worried the second he noticed it.

"Huh… you know what's wrong, John," Randy replied and his voice was hollow as he spoke. "And it's going to kill you if I don't stop this now…"

"What…" John began but his voice failed him and he had to clear his throat. "What's that supposed to mean?"

John knew what it meant, but he refused to accept it. Because it couldn't be. But Randy knew that he knew and the bitter smile returned to the younger man's lips.

"You know exactly what I mean. I should have never let you this close," Randy explained, still hollow and with every words his voice became quieter. "It was a perfect dream and I… I have no words for how deeply grateful I am. But that dream is over now and I want you to go and live your life instead of burdening yourself with me. I don't want that and I'm not gonna let you go on like that. I'm sorry."

Something inside Randy broke as the words passed his lips. It wasn't what he wanted. Letting John go. It hurt already more than all the physical and emotional pain he'd endured over the past weeks and what he was about to say would make it even worse…

"After… after all we've been through and after last night… you're telling me now to go? Because you don't want to be a burden for me?" John whispered in utter disbelief. For once he had no idea what to do and desperate he added: "You are not a burden, Ran. I love you and you love me, dammit, you can't throw everything away just like that…"

"Go to Phil. He's the one who can make you happy," Randy cut him off, whispering, because he didn't trust his voice not to break as those words burned in his throat and his mind.

Unseen by the younger man, John shook his head in bewilderment as he croaked: "You can't be serious…!"

And then Randy's hand roamed the space beside his left leg and as he found was he was searching for, he settled his left hand on his legs. He was holding the nurse call. A chill ran down John's spine as his eyes caught the sight. And after another brief moment of hesitation… Randy pushed it and a cold hand closed around his heart.

Goddamn bastard…

"Don't do that, Randy… please…" John begged and in a desperate attempt he got up and tugged the nurse call out of Randy's hand and tried to entwine their fingers, like they had done so often before.

Pressing his lips to a thin line Randy he pulled his hand away. Then he heard the voice of a woman, asking if he was okay.

"I want to be alone," Randy murmured and turned his head away from John, as if he didn't want to see the shocked, confused and hurt expression on John's face.

But he saw it in his mind, very, very clearly. Because he'd seen it before. Turning his back to John he listened as the nurse told John to go, heard reluctant footsteps. Hot and silent tears ran down his face as he listened to John's sad retreat and if possible the darkness around him became… darker.

John never saw those tears. The nurse kept on pushing him gently but insistently out of the room. This was really happening, although it shouldn't and every step closer to the door made him feel more and more numb. He called the younger man's name weakly, pleading. There was no reaction.

The door to the ICU closed and paralyzed John leaned against the wall, sliding down until he sat on the floor. With a shuddering sigh he buried his face against his knees and that sigh turned to a sob. And that sob became silent crying.

"Randy…"

x

The backlights of the taxi became smaller and smaller while the car took off into the dark night and John watched them vanish around a corner. For a few minutes he kept staring in the general direction where the taxi had disappeared and in his alcohol-dazed mind popped a question up. The question if this had been a good idea. If it had been a good idea to come here. To Phil's place. In the middle of the night and without informing him in the first place. Again. After he'd practically broken up with him via short message. Somewhere in the back of his hazy mind a small voice told him that today was the day when Phil would send him away because he asked too much from him. The bottle of Southern Comfort which he held in a death grip since he'd left his own place weight heavy in his hand, although it was almost empty. Remorse?

After he'd finally found the strength to get up from the floor back at the hospital, his feet had brought him to their room there. But the moment he stepped into the room, he came to a stop and the mere thought of spend the night there, alone, made him feel sick. So he went home and he'd been sitting there, an unmoving shadow in the darkness and his house had been so unbearably quiet and… empty. So awfully empty… Eventually, after hours, he couldn't stand it any longer because every passing minute felt like dying a little more and he left with the bottle in his hand and chose to come here. He simply couldn't bear being alone…

Slowly he turned around and made his way to the front door. The house was dark but it wasn't a surprise since it was… he peered at his watch… squinted his eyes… too dark to see which time it was. Probably around 2 a.m.

The doorbell was loud in the quietness of the night, but even after what felt like minute or two there was no reaction inside the house. Maybe Phil wasn't at home? Nah. He hit the bell again. And to be sure a third time. And then, finally, he heard something. Steps? A moment later the door opened a crack and still sleepy and not very happy eyes appeared.

"What the fuck…" Phil began but stopped mid-sentence when he realized who stood at his door. "John?"

A voice deep inside Phil screamed to shut the door again, to stop this before it even started because he knew that he had lost against Randy and he also knew that he had lost John, at least the way he wished he could have him. And he knew that he only would end up hurting. And he would have done it if it hadn't been for something else that stirred in his chest – silent, unrelenting worry.

The door was ripped open and John was being pulled inside. Phil flipped the lights on and John had to close his eyes against the sudden glaring brightness. It took him a moment until he noticed his name being called. Slowly he opened his eyes again and found himself greeted by a very, very worried looking Phil, who reached out to take hold of his hand, while the other settled on his cheek. His touch was so warm… and he wished so very much it would be Randy's hand touching him…

"John? John, are you with me?" Phil asked softly. "Something to do with Randy?"

He nodded slowly.

"Did he push you away again?"

He nodded again. The other man frowned.

"You don't want to talk about it," Phil said and it wasn't a question.

He shook his head no and faintly he noticed that a single tear ran down his cheek. Phil's brows furrowed in sorrow and he reached out to thumb it away.

"Can I… stay for a while?" John whispered, pleading, unsteady and the tender touch broke a dam inside him, giving way to all the excruciating pain he'd tried to fight down. "I… I don't want to be alone…"

Phil sighed… and then… he saw John break apart. All of a sudden the older man's face twisted in agony and tears began to spill from his eyes, falling even as he squeezed them shut to hold them back. A deeply wailing sound tore from his throat as sank down to his knees.

Sitting hunched over John began to whisper something Phil couldn't quite understand. All he could only catch were broken bits… barely audibly…

"I… he is… he is blind," John finally said, choking on those words. "He sent me away…"

Phil had a faint idea what John was talking about, what had happened, but he couldn't have cared less to ask for details right now. All he could think of was to help John somehow.

"Ssh, Sunshine, it's okay," he tried to soothe him. "He knew about the risks, still he decided to do the surgery. He'll live because you made him fight. He'll get over it and come back to you. Give him some time."

With a keening sob John buried his face into the crook of Phil's neck and pulled him closer, making him crawl onto his lap and his arms wrapped around the younger man tight, tighter, as if he was afraid that Phil could vanish just like that. Whispering soothing words, Phil held him close and for long minutes John cried silently, holding onto the warm body in his arms for dear life.

Long minutes… full of despair and pain… and Phil kept murmuring those soothing words to him, his voice… his presence settling over him, over this pain like a calming blanket… He wanted to pull that blanket closer around himself and so he tried to get as close to Phil as possible.

"John…"

Phil's voice was low and the name was spoken drawn-out. It was the voice of reason, breaking through the worry, and it said don't. John got the message, but he'd never intended to do something anyway. Although John knew that the comfort this man he held in his arms tight now provided was pure gold and Randy had sent him away… the circumstances had changed. He didn't come here for kisses or sex. All he wanted was to be held and to hide.

"I know, Phil," Phil murmured shakily. "I didn't come here for… that. I just don't want to be alone. Please."

The only response was an acknowledging little hum from Phil as he smoothed over the blond hair.

And because he knew this would be a long night, he said softly: "Let's go over to the couch, Sunshine. Come on."

John didn't want to let go but he also didn't give any resistance when Phil freed himself from John's arms and when he got up, he took John's hand and pulled him up with him to lead him over to the couch.

For long moments John just sat there, knees drawn up to his chest, his face buried against them while the tears still ran down his face. Phil's hand rubbed soothing circles on his back and every once in a while it smoothed over his hair. He heard the younger man murmur calming words and he felt his warmth. And at some point he felt Phil wrap an arm around his shoulders to pull him in, to lie down on the couch with him and as he did so, he turned into the younger man's embrace for more comfort.

"Wanna talk about it now?" Phil asked quietly and for another long moment there was no response.

But then, just when Phil thought John didn't want to speak about it, he said: "He's blind, Phil. The doctor said that he most likely will regain sight, but Randy, he… he thinks that he's a nursing case and a burden for me. And he said that doesn't want to destroy my life. He told me to go. For good."

For a brief moment Phil was tempted to take the same line and use the chance the situation offered, but it wouldn't have been fair to John. Pushing that thought aside, he focused back on the man in his arms.

"And you really left? That's so unlike you, Sunshine. The John I know would never give up and leave just like that."

There was a very mirthless chuckle falling from John's lips.

"I wouldn't have left if he hadn't called a nurse," John explained bitterly.

Frowning Phil ran a hand gently up and down the broad back.

"Okay. So he's serious, huh?"

A sigh. Heavy, sad and defeated. Forlorn.

"Yeah," John whispered. His voice was very small and tearstained, although there were no more tears left to cry as he added: "What if I lose him?"

Phil dropped a kiss on top of John's head and cursed silently for that slip. Kisses weren't part of their relationship anymore, not even those innocent tiny ones. But John didn't even really notice it. What he did notice was that a certain alleviation seeped into his misery.

"He had to take one blow of fate after another. Give him some time to cope with it," Phil said. "I understand his intentions, Sunshine. I would do the same if I was in his place. But he loves you and you won't lose him, because sooner or later he'll realize that it was a mistake. You just need to hang in there."

Hang in there. Yeah, sure. He had come to a point where he had forgotten how it was not to hang in there. And he would never have believed he wouldn't know anymore what to say or to do… how to make things right. It was what he'd always done successfully. But not anymore.

"I don't know how to go on," he admitted whispering and shifting a bit he tried to hide even more in Phil's arms.

Again Phil dropped a kiss on top of the older man's head before he realized what he was doing and again John didn't really notice it. And although Phil was aware that it was better that way, it stung.

"You managed to get through to him back then and you can do it again," Phil whispered back.

God, how he wanted to believe those words… John held onto them and onto Phil… and suddenly a daze unfurled, sinking down on him as the alcohol unfolded its effect completely and that daze was heavy and thick and it dragged him down. Much too exhausted he didn't even try to fight it…

"Now rest a little, Sunshine," the younger man whispered as he realized that John was drifting off and he tightened his embrace.

John fell and for the fraction of a second he wished he wouldn't wake up again. But even through the haze of an approaching alcohol induced unconsciousness he was sure that in a few hours he would wake up to the same terrifying reality.

The last thing he knew was Phil's voice before merciful blackness swallowed him.

You are not alone…