OH GOD MORE SAD WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME.
Sorry guys, I have stock stories, but I figure I might as well get the sad out of the way. I figured that since I've given Snake so much pain, Ace deserves some sad and time to reflect on ow much of an utter asshole he is.
Again, Sad fic is Sad, so be warned. Forgive me :(

It wasn't supposed to happen this way.

He was supposed to wake up and bitch and moan about his bruises like everyone else did. He was supposed to distribute the pain killers from his secret stash. He was supposed to wake up.

But he didn't. Not for two days.

So now Ace sat, arms bent, elbows resting on the side table and hands clasped in front of his face. Eyes closed and breathing steady, not yet ready to accept he was in a hospital, listening to his best friend breathing being drowned out by machines beeping and whirring.

He tightened his clasped hands in front of him and his brows furrowed. The doctors actually congratulated him for brining in such a terrible case. They patted him on the back and called him a hero before rushing him down the hall to perform so many tests with such odd names. They left the rest of the gang in that waiting room for hours.

Then they were called in. They showed him x-rays and sonograms and picture after picture of his friend's broken and battered body within. Every crack, some new some old, he knew the story for. Hell, most of the cracks in his face were his own fault. Every strike, in jest or putting Snake back in his damn place, was accounted for. And yet the doctor babbled on and on and on about how serious this was. How close he was to…to….

He still couldn't bring himself to think about it.

The doctor had finally stopped talking when he put his fist through the plaster and screamed at the rest of the gang to 'get the fuck out NOW.' They, of course, scrambled away, but the doctor, he stayed and stared. Then he cleared his throat and continued to talk, more hushed and rushed. He looked over his shoulder every few seconds, a fear-born tick, making sure Ace wasn't going to rear his fist back and put cracks into him next.

He was almost shooed out the hospital, until he threatened to burn down the place if they made him leave. They left him alone after that. He screamed at the rest of the gang again. They had been waiting in the lobby, but they scattered like friggen cockroaches when he looked at them. He didn't even have to say anything, and they all just… ran.

Ace sighed and squeezed eyes shut hard enough to see white behind his lids. Had he always been such an ass? He was sure that the gang never actually ran that fast from him before. Were they scared of him? Scared of becoming the replacement Snake? He hadn't meant to hurt the guy, really. He just was so easy to pick on. So easy to hit and hurt and break. He never said anything. Not a damn word. He just took every goddamn hit and smiled that stupid smile of his no matter what horrible thing he said or did. He just… he just took it all… and still managed to love him.

He didn't know he knew. It was… better this way. They would never be able to act on it. It wouldn't stand the slightest chance, being what they were, where they were, how they were. He would be more broken than he was now… and the doctors wouldn't catch that kind of break. He might actually… he wouldn't be able to…

No. No more thinking like that.

Ace's eyes opened slowly, protesting in the form of fuzz and blurs in his vision. His hands relinquished their tight grip, throbbing dully in the wake of it. He noticed, with only mild interest, that his fingernails had cut tiny crescents into the skin. They bled, only slightly, red leaking into green. He knew, though, when he worked up the courage to look over at Snake he would see something so much more vibrant and worse and sickening that it would take all of him to not punch that bastard in the face and demand to know why.

He just hadn't reached that point yet. Looking at the broken bones from the inside wasn't the same as looking at him straight on. He knew what Snake was supposed to look like on the outside… and the doctors had stripped him and cleaned him up so they could see things they hadn't seen from the start. The doctor said he wasn't really much of a Gangreen anymore; he was a whole bunch of other colors instead.

The clipboard had just barely missed that doctor's head, and it was not because he was crying. No sir. Ace did not cry. He was just not up to it, right then, to kill anyone… more than he already had. Here he worried his lip and fiddled with his wristband. He did really feel horrible for not realizing it sooner. It made him look bad, to everyone, more so than usual. That was what got to him. Everyone hated him for this. Everyone would remember this and know and hold it against him.

Everyone, but Snake.

Snake… he would laugh it off. Would never blame him. He would look at him with the same eyes and same smile and the same goddamn level of love and respect he always had. Hell, maybe even have more in his gaze for picking him up and taking him here to be fixed up. He'd always find it in him to adore him without question. He was so goddamn perfect to that broken idiot.

He felt his nails digging new jagged crescents into his palms. He shook violently. Willing himself not to move, for he was sure he was going to do something regrettable. Leave, maybe, and never come back. Make Snake a burden of the state. Swing his hand and strike him again. Cause another unneeded break in Snake's body and force him to stay here longer, maybe forever. Make one wrong move and the machines might fail. Destroying him forever…

He heard his knees hit the floor with a dull thud about the same time as the sob wrenched itself in his throat. He made it stay there, lodged just behind his tongue. Not here. Not now. He couldn't afford it now, he had to be strong. He raised his eyes, for what reason he was unsure, but there, in his line of vision, was a blue-black and white covered hand resting peacefully on the starch white sheets, bathed in the blue hospital shadow. The doctor was right… he looked more like a living bruise than a Gangreen. He made some sort of noise in the back of his throat, as if the sob had begun to recede. There were tubes and shit sprouting out of it like some fucked up sci-fi garden, all of it weaving in and out between the white of his bandages and the white of the sheets and all the white of the room that was too damn bright, even in dark. His hand, that busted, bloody hand, was the only thing that ruined the purity of it.

He acted before he thought, for once, and gave into pure instinct. He kissed every mar on that broken hand. All the bruises, the cuts and scrapes too small to be covered with copious gauze were gently caressed and examined. For the first time since he found him, beaten up in an alley, starved and beaten to near death, he was gentle with the reptilian teen. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him; it seemed that only death brought out his compassion for the one person who honest-to-God cared about him. He held the fragile thing like glass, as if, though already broken, should he do anything else wrong it would shatter with the rest of him. His retribution, his penance for breaking something that did him no wrong.

He felt… he didn't know how he felt. It was so much more chilling than being frightened, more empty than being abandoned. It was too much, that was the problem. Too much unknown at the same time. No one could tell from first glance just how much of a control freak Ace was, and this… this whole thing was spiraling out of control far too fast for him to know how to even begin to cope. Snake was… he was out of his hands now. Ace couldn't handle that. Snake was the one thing that was always in his control. Always under his thumb. Always following orders. Always always alwayshis lowly lackey and mindless minion. But now Snake was depending on something other than him to survive.

How did he ever let that just happen?

Wasn't it his duty as leader to make sure he was, well, his?

Ace was vaguely sure this realization fell under the category of 'too little, too late,' and even if Snake did recover, even if by some chance he still adored him, still loved him unconditionally, there would always be a hint of doubt somewhere. Always seeded in Ace. Knowing, somehow, Snake could find something else to support him… that he wasn't the only one who could provide what Snake needed to even live… that Snake didn't need Ace nearly as much as Ace need Snake to even function properly. Somewhere in him, he knew all these doubts were complete shit. It was just… he wasn't as sure of himself as before… before Snake got hurt.

Again, Ace felt the 'too little, too late' vibe making itself known, and he sighed in frustration. He placed the busted hand back on the mattress (Gently, now. Can't afford another imperfection…) and rose to his feet, his knees creaking in protest. They thrummed dully, the ache crawling up his legs with lazy pangs until it rooted itself firmly behind his eyes. It pulsed, his heartbeat (heh…who knew he even had one of those anymore?), behind his eyes and made it that much harder to look at the broken boy before him. His eyes slipped shut and he turned his head. This was too much. He couldn't do it. He didn't have to do it. He won't do it.

But he needed to. Just once. One glance, and then he could leave, knowing for sure what he'd done.

The gasp echoed in the room before his hand could stifle it. He shook, afraid actually fucking afraid of the site before him. This wasn't Snake! Snake wasn't- He didn't look like… like this! He wasn't red and back and blue and oh Christ what the hell was he thinking letting him just rot like that!? Ace lurched with a sudden wave of nausea, gripping the side of the bed, startling the limp hand. This was ridiculous; looking at this thing was making him physically sick.

Maybe, if I shut my eyes, (he thought) this whole thing will go away. Maybe it's some sick joke people are playing on me (he thought) to get back at me for screwing with their heads. That's it… (he thought) if I just shut my eyes and take a breath it will all change back to normal. Then we can go home… (he thought).

He tried it, so sure of himself, of his thoughts, that this was just a cruel joke or a crazy dream. He shut his eyes, rubbing them with the heel of his palms, sucking in a sterile breath of air. Slowly, he removed his hands. Slowly, he opened his eyes. Slowly, he let the used air fall out of his lips. Slowly, the picture came back into focus.

It was the same. That was Snake now. And suddenly Ace felt so drained just looking at him, just so tired. He gripped the end of the hospital bed, holding himself up while he stared at the unconscious reptile. Everything about Snake was so very, very wrong. It made him ache, made him weak to just look at the broken male. Knowing he had a hand in it made him… it made him… oh fuck it killed him to know he did this to Snake. What did he ever do, huh? All he did was follow every order, do everything he demanded, get everything he asked for. Sure, he wasn't the bravest or strongest, and so what if he didn't always get everything right? Neither did he, and he was the leader. He was supposed to be strong, reliable. He was supposed to be better than this…

Ace didn't know when he had moved, or even found the strength to make his legs work again. He found himself at Snakes side, leaning heavily on the soft mattress rather than metal.

Ace didn't know when the sob had lodged itself back into his throat. Maybe it had never left, and now it was forcing its way past where it was stuck before. It echoed in the quiet room.

Ace didn't know when he began to breath heavy, or when he finally realized how upset it really made him to see Snake like this, or even when he had gotten so damn close to the kid. What he did know, was that this cut deeper than he ever though it could have, and he blamed himself for everything.

I hope that didn't destroy anyones day :(( R&R and have a nice day (if I didn't ruin it for you. Sorry.)