A/N: Ah, another chapter! Look at that! Thanks for all of the reviews, by the way! I get really really really excited when my phone tells me that someone left a review!
Hope you like this one! Baby Trev makes an appearance, but keep in mind that this isn't a Trikey story! For once I try something new.

Triggers in this chapter: Suicide recovery.

I remember drifting through being awake and completely asleep while I laid upside down in my flipped over car on the wrong side of the highway. I remember parts of when an ambulance arrived and several nurses and paramedic doctors fought their way into the broken car to scoop me up and strap me down to a hospital gurney that sat in the medical van, but most of it was a weird, loud blur. Everybody was constantly shouting and sounded frantic, especially when the crash first occurred. After that, I don't remember much. The first time I fully came to was when I woke up in my hospital room. I winced at first when I tried to move, realizing that wasn't a good idea. My body was unbelievably sore and everything ached, though the painful rough edge was surprisingly absent. I examined my room for anything familiar, but all I found was a bed-side table, a white board on the wall that had my name with the word "morphine" next to it, a small pull out couch on the far side of the room, a small bathroom closed off behind the door beside my bed, my heart monitor machine and an IV that was hooked into my arm. I laid back and inspected my arms. Several cuts and scrapes threatened to expose the flesh underneath, but everything looked like I had just been a big banged up by the accident. Even though I didn't lift the hospital blanket to make sure, nothing felt broken or sewn up. Had I really just made it out without anything but a few scratches?

I heard a loud knock on the wooden door that led to my room. The knock was followed by Trevor bursting in, slamming the door behind him. He walked to my bed in his typical dirty sweatpants and white t-shirt, complete with half bloodied combat boots that tucked in the hems of his pants. I slowly lifted my head to look at Trevor, half squinting because of the heavy morphine that surged in my veins, making everything a tad blurry and myself light headed. Trevor gave a very small chuckle and walked closer to my bed, placing his left hand on my cheek. He spoke in a soft tone, which looking back on it, I should've known something was up. "Hey, buddy. How do you feel?"

I relaxed, his hand still resting on my face. A gave a content nod as an answer, not feeling all that bad thanks to the expensive drug.
Trevor's smiled remained as he nodded, watching me. "Good, good, good, good . . . Because you know what?"
Before I could flinch away, he struck his right hand across my face while the left hand held my head still. He yanked his hands away after the slap and grabbed me by my hospital gown, pulling me close to his face. He growled, the smell of cheap beer coming from him, "I'm doin' fuckin' horrible since you decided to be a fuckin' jackass, eh? Ever think about what this might do to your dear ol' buddy? Think I give a shit that you wanna die? Nope! 'Cause know why? You ain't dyin'. Anyone killin' you, it's me. And right now I don't feel like wastin' a bullet. I've been in line since nineteen-eighty-God-knows-when to off 'ya. Anyone takin' your life, it's me, 'ya selfish prick. I've waited the longest- fair and square."

He gave me a shove backwards as he straightened up his posture, having let go of me. I stared at him, utterly speechless. He glared at me, silence except for the soft beeping of my heart monitor. He didn't mean he wanted to kill me, but more was making a point. He had every reason to kill me when I accidentally got Brad murdered, but he didn't.

Trevor broke the gaze and turned to pretend to be watching something out the large set of double windows. The sunset hit through the glass and barely shined into the hospital room. Trevor scoffed when a few moments passed by, tone an actual real caring one, " . . . Do you really hate livin' that much, Mike? I-I mean, really? Don't even try to lie to me and tell me you weren't tryin' to off yourself. You had yourself videotaped on a cop's dashcam that was 'bout to pull you over for speedin'. Seen it myself. Made the nurses show me."

Trevor turned toward my doped up self and waited for a response. How long had he been here? I decided to answer honestly, something I rarely did, especially to my best friend. I sighed quietly and mumbled, "Yeah, man. Livin' ain't exactly fun. Moved out of Mandy's, kids hate me, I-"
Trevor's words spoke quickly, as if he had come up with the answer to end all of my problems. "Move in with me, man. Again. Patricia is gone and I still got the couch or the other half of the bed if you are feelin' brave enough to sleep next to me. Just like ol' times, huh?"

I couldn't help but smile just a little. I was too cheap to buy a double bedded motel room after we'd pull a score in North Yankton. Trevor was all too willing to share a bed with me back then, and probably even now, but I always made sure there was some sort of pillow divider between us before we both fell asleep in case while he was asleep he got a little too snuggly and lonesome.

I shook my head, smile fading when I started to think about the present day. "I can't again, man. I gotta try to work things out with 'Manda. If I don't, there goes ten years down the drain and I'll lose 'er and the kids forever. It ain't an option no more. It's all I got left."
Trevor swallowed back his constant anger after hearing that he wasn't included in the "all I have left" bit. Trevor's forced smile returned, giving a shrug. He pressed, "I'm going to go for a walk. Maybe eat some pie from the cafeteria or someone old man on their deathbed. You stay 'ere and I'll be back soon, okay, Mikey? Maybe you'll be thinkin' straight after you relax for a bit and then you'll give me a clear headed decision on you stayin' with me, huh? It's a good deal. And you know what? Mama Trevor knows best."

He patted my blanketed foot with a small smirk as he left the room, whistling a song from Channel X.
I sat back and listened to the heart monitor, trying to remember as much as I could about the accident. Nothing was coming up except shouting and screaming from scared people. Ah, did Amanda know I was here? Knowing Trevor, if he got a say, she didn't.
My eyes opened and searched for my phone without me moving. Fortunately, it was on the hospital bed table next to me. I picked it up, checking the time. It was five o'three in the afternoon, the accident occurring around noon. I unlocked my phone using my number password and whistled in astonishment. I had text from four different people, normally having text from no one. Might as well take a look before the morphine hits me hard.

Message received from Dave Norton, 1:29 pm:
I saw your face on the news, Michael. Why? Are you taking scores again? I don't have a rewind option on my television, but you looked unconscious and had police swarming around you. If you got caught for some crime, make sure not to squeal about me. Good luck in the joint, old friend. Make sure you don't turn your back in the showers.

Message received from Trevor Philips, 2:12 pm:
dud I thnk I saw u on tv. waz that u? did u wreck ur car? r u high and if u r why didnt u share? U r so selfish mikey. god I h8 u. btw on my way 2 see if it is u."

Message received from Franklin Clinton, 2:55 pm:
Hey, M. You know I ain't one to really worry if you are dying or whatever because you are tough, but I just got a call from Trev saying you are gonna bite it. Is he drunk and messing with me or are you really gonna die?

Message received from Amanda De Santa, 4:43 pm: I saw what you did. Be there at ten-ish tonight. We gotta talk.

I sighed once I was done reading the messages. I put the phone on my chest and pressed the red button attached to my IV to fill my blood with more drugs even though I wasn't hurting badly. It was just so I could escape back to sleep. It worked almost immediately, eyes forcing closed and mind drifting off.