A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Hannah and Ellen. ... Not because of the content, but because. If you could send them both good thoughts, it would be much appreciated.
He stirs blearily when the orderly comes to move him upstairs. He is beyond exhausted, now: physically he has pushed himself beyond what anyone can expect, and he's been through an emotional gambit, too. He needs time to sleep and let his mind heal. He's needed it since Nick called the ambulance, maybe even before.
The orderly twitches his IV lines as they are moved over to a pole on a wheelchair. He has to follow and bite his lip to keep from crying. He doesn't care what they say about IVs using plastic tubing instead of needles, he swears they must use knives. As he moves, an alarm associated with one of the wires taped to various points on his body goes off. The orderly mutters something under his breath, and disconnects Einhoven's triangle. The alarm becomes a steady whine.
His glucose is checked, and thankfully, he's hovering at 90. The orderly starts pushing him upstairs. His father follows.
As they approach the elevator, he sees another tan-clad orderly pushing a gurney. He is shocked to recognize the boy he rejected at Scandals, was it really only two weeks ago. He vaguely remembers the kid's name as Dan or Dave, or something. The bear cub's neck is scarlet with ligature marks and he is clearly sedated.
He cannot get the image out of his head as he lays in his hospital bed that night. When he goes into the bathroom (only after his sugar has been checked again), the purple-red mark from a belt is imprinted around his own throat.
Part of him knows that he should be under suicide watch like the other boy. He pushes away the knowledge, and pushes himself. No one entirely knows the darkness in his mind, although he imagines a few people might guess: the doctor, for one, and perhaps the boy being watched upstairs. He is still in control of something.