Thanks to my lovely beta alexeidarling for always encouraging me to finish stories and catching the mistakes I'm too tired to see. Love you dear!
Chapter Count: 4,385 words
Disclaimer: This is RPF (real person fiction) primarily about Darren Criss and Chris Colfer. While they are both real, this story obviously isn't. It is a work of fiction. I don't own the Glee characters or the actors who play them but I sure wouldn't mind owning Darren Criss in real life!
Warnings: Character Injury, Discussion of Medical Procedures, Sexual Banter in Later Chapters, Mild Profanity
Spoiler Alert: Takes place in mid-July of 2011 as actors have just come back to set to begin filming Season 3 of Glee, Alludes to events that took place during Glee Live Tour during June 2011
With almost inhuman effort, Chris managed to pry open his eyes, looking up to see Darren watching him carefully, an unreadable expression on his face. "Darren?" called Chris weakly. "Will you...can you come...I don't want to be alone," he tried to explain, his words coming out jumbled. He drew a sharp breath and started again. "Darren, don't wanna go to the hospital alone. Will you come with me? Please?"
Darren bent down to kiss Chris's forehead, relieved to see his eyes once more and feeling touched that Chris wanted, no needed him to accompany him in the ambulance to the ER. "Of course, honey. I'll be with you the whole time, okay?"
And with these words, Chris seemed satisfied and finally allowed the blackness to overtake him yet again, sinking further into Darren as he was allowed a temporary reprieve from the growing pain that had threatened to overtake him only minutes earlier.
"Chris? Chris! Fuck...come on, Chris. Eyes open," Darren begged, balancing on the precipice of hysteria at watching Chris black out for the second time in the past 15 minutes. But despite his pleas, Chris remained deadly still and silent.
Darren bit his lip in frustration and worry as he stared down at Chris' motionless form. Darren could feel the heat from Chris' body seeping through the thin twill material of his pants. His cheeks were flushed with fever. The crimson of his cheeks stood in sharp contrast to the dark purple, almost bruise-like circles under Chris' eyes, that spoke of many sleepless nights and a tendency to put work before attending to any of his physical needs. Chris' forehead was dotted with a clammy sweat. He looked awful, but still so beautiful to Darren.
Darren took a deep breath to calm his nerves and focused all his efforts on doing what little he could to make Chris more comfortable. He started by swiping a hand across Chris' brow, confirming that his fever was going nowhere but up. Darren needed to find a way to cool Chris off. He reached for another discarded hand towel, quickly wetting it with the water from a nearby water bottle. Darren brought the damp cloth to Chris' forehead, wiping away the sweat. Darren's eyes flickered back to Chris' face, hoping for a moan, a twitch, or some small sign of recognition, but his hopes were dashed as Chris remained still and silent. Feeling the heat still pouring off Chris in waves, Darren reached for the neck of Chris' Henley t-shirt, unbuttoning the top four buttons to expose Chris' neck and chest. He trailed the cool cloth from Chris' cheeks down to his neck and collarbone. Finally, Darren re-wet the cloth and settled it over Chris' forehead once more. Still no response from Chris.
"Chris, please," Darren pleaded, bringing his free hand up to cup his friend's cheek. But only silence echoed throughout the dance studio. Darren felt his stomach drop. With each minute that ticked away, Darren was more and more convinced that whatever was going on with Chris, health-wise, wasn't good.
Darren was startled by Zach re-entering the dance studio with two uniformed paramedics in tow. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief at the sight of some much needed help for Chris. Zach's eyes widened as he crossed the room to the couch were Chris was still cradled protectively against Darren's chest. "He's still unconscious?" he asked with surprise.
"Yeah...well, no. He woke up for a few minutes but he blacked out again. His head's bleeding," Darren continued, gesturing to the now saturated towel against the base of Chris' skull. "I think he's hurt worse than we thought. He was..." Darren trailed off, his voice breaking slightly. "He was in bad shape when he woke up."
"Shit...okay," Ryan responded worriedly, looking from Chris' pale and lifeless form to the tense look on Darren's face. "Good thing the medics are here. Let's let them work, I guess."
Darren nodded, running the back of his free hand against Chris' cheek and wincing at the heat he felt there. He was vaguely aware of movement as two paramedics knelt beside the couch and began pulling monitors and supplies from a large bag of equipment but his eyes were still glued to Chris' face, hoping against hope for some small sign of life from him. Darren bit his lip as he struggled to fight the rising tide of emotion threatening to overtake him at any moment. It's just that it was Chris.His Chris.
The younger of the two paramedics began to speak, drawing Darren's focus back to the present. "Hi," she spoke tentatively. "I'm Jaime. Ryan said you were with Chris when he collapsed. Can you tell me what happened?" As she spoke, the second paramedic began a cursory exam, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around Chris' upper arm and inflating it, frowning at the display slightly as he did so.
"Yeah...he...he wasn't feeling well earlier. He said he had a headache, sore throat, and a cough, but he still insisted on rehearsing. We'd been practicing for a few hours before he collapsed. I think he's running a fever. It seemed like he fainted first and then hit his head when he fell. But his head hit the ground really hard and it's bleeding and he seemed pretty out of it earlier. He sounded awful too. He was coughing so hard that he could barely breathe. I just...he..." Darren rambled, his voice trailing off slightly as he struggled to find the right words to express his level of concern.
Before Darren could finish his thought, the older paramedic interjected. "I need to take a look at that head wound. Could you move your hand for just a second?"
"Sure," Darren replied, shifting slightly on the couch while continuing to keep Chris cradled in his arms protectively. He relaxed his grip on the now saturated towel and slid his hand from beneath Chris' head, allowing the paramedic access to the wound.
Wordlessly, the paramedic leaned forward on his heels and carefully peeled back the small hand towel pressed to the young performer's head, exposing a deep and heavily bleeding gash. The head wound in itself was concerning, but combined with the fact that the patient was ill, obviously dehydrated, and hadn't regained consciousness, there was a growing need for alarm.
The paramedics worked quickly and efficiently as Chris was connected to a variety of monitors. Next, they wrapped a plastic collar around Chris' neck and slid him onto the gurney carefully, trying to jar his neck and his back as little as possible as they moved him. Darren had started to legitimately hyperventilate by this point until the young female paramedic had taken a moment to explain that the neck brace and back board were just precautions given that Chris was unconscious. She did her best to convince Darren that if Chris had been moving his arms and legs when he regained consciousness minutes earlier, it was highly unlikely that he had cervical or spinal injuries. Darren was still worked up as he paced back and forth across the dance studio while the paramedics inserted an IV line into Chris' hand and placed a mask over his face to administer oxygen. Finally after being reassured for a third time that his moving Chris to the couch was unlikely to have paralyzed him or to have caused lasting damage, Darren's breathing slowed to a more normal rate and he resumed his position at the head of Chris' gurney. He took hold of Chris' warm hand once more as he helped the paramedic steer the gurney through the emergency exit around the back and to the awaiting ambulance. As they stepped outside the cavernous studio and into the cool night air, Zach bid them goodbye, promising to update Ryan, Eric (this week's director), and the rest of the cast and crew on Chris' condition.
After what felt like hours had elapsed but in reality had been only minutes, the ambulance way on its way to for Cedar's Sinai Hospital. The lights and sirens blaring overhead did little to quell Darren's fears however, as every wail of the siren seemed to confirm what Darren had suspected since Chris had collapsed: Chris' condition was serious. While they'd been lucky enough to dodge a bullet in New Jersey when Chris had been struck down with nothing worse than food poisoning and dehydration, this time, it seemed, they wouldn't be as lucky.
Darren's phone vibrated in his pocket, startling him from his silent vigil at Chris' side. He slid it from his pocket with his left hand, while his right continued to trace patterns up and down Chris' forearm.
Ashley (8:21 pm):Lea, Amber, and I are on our way to the hospital. How's he doing? Zach said he passed out for a minute..
Darren (8:22 pm):Yeah, he's still unconscious. It's not good... I'm freaking out.
Ashley (8:23 pm):What? Oh god, I thought he just fainted or something. What happened? How bad is it?
Darren (8:25 pm):Not sure... He's sick. I tried to get him to go home after lunch, but you know Chris... He's running a pretty high fever and he hit his head when he passed out. The paramedics think he has a concussion. Ashley, if anything happens to him... If he's not okay... I don't know what I'll do.
Ashley (8:27 pm):Oh god... we'll be there soon. Just take care of him, DC, okay? He needs you, even if he pretends like he doesn't sometimes. If he wakes up, tell him that we love him.
Darren bit his lip, feeling tears prick his eyes as he tried to find the right words to respond to Ashley. Chris needed him? Darren couldn't help but feel as if Chris had really needed him hours ago when he'd been sick and Darren hadn't managed to get him to stop working and go home and rest. Darren stared at his phone as a rising guilt washed over him. He'd let Chris down. He knew that Chris was stubborn and a bit of a workaholic. That was a given. But Darren also knew that they wouldn't be in this situation, with Chris unconscious and both of them on their way to the hospital if Darren had tried harder and hadn't given up so easily. He'd failed Chris.
Darren shook his head, trying to clear his increasingly morbid thoughts. No matter how terrified or frustrated he was, he needed to be calm and reassuring for Chris' sake. He'd let Chris down once already and he wouldn't do it again. While he hardly felt worthy or up to the task, Chris had specifically asked for him, had made it clear that he didn't want to be alone. And what had Ashley just said? "He needs you, DC." Darren took several deep breaths to steady himself, feeling his resolve grow with each inhalation.
Darren heard a soft moan and immediately his eyes were back on Chris, searching his face carefully for any signs of conscious awareness. His focus completely diverted to Chris, he let his iPhone slide carelessly on the bench seat beside him before bringing his left hand up to stroke at the hair plastered to Chris' temple by a thin sheen of clammy sweat.
"Chris?" Darren called tentatively. "Hey honey, can you hear me?"
His efforts were rewarded with a slightly louder noise, really more of a groan than a moan. Still Chris' eyes remained closed, but Darren could see the tension in his face as he struggled towards the surface.
Encouraged, Darren leaned over Chris, his face now just inches above his. "C'mon Chris...open your eyes. Please...oh Chris, please..."
Darren watched as Chris tried to turn his head slightly towards his voice, his motions stopped by the hard plastic collar supporting his neck. Chris let out a whimper and exhalation of breath, his eyes squeezing tighter shut in a grimace of pain.
Darren tried to sound more firm, more commanding as he coaxed Chris to respond. "Colfer! Come on, hon. You've got to open your eyes. Look at me," he ordered, his eyes still glued on Chris, watching carefully for further flickers of recognition. Chris continued to wince in pain, but Darren watched as his eyes moved beneath closed lids, seeming to search for something or someone as he hovered on the edge of consciousness. "Please Chris..." Darren spoke, more softly this time, his voice hoarse and breaking slightly as he called Chris' name.
His stomach clenched as he watched a flicker of recognition and was that...fear? dance across Chris' face. Darren's hand dropped from where it had been stroking through Chris' hair, reaching down to cup his cheek gently instead. "It's okay, Chris. You're okay. I'm here. Just...Chris please, can you open your eyes? Just for a second, alright? I just need to know that you're with me, honey. Everything's going to be okay."
And with those words of reassurance, Chris finally broke the surface, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights of the ambulance as Darren's face slowly swam into focus, tense, pale, and a bit...damp, but oh so comforting nonetheless. Darren was here.
Chris let out a gasp as his eyes blinked open, his breaths coming in short staccato beats of air as he struggled to piece together the context that led to his head feeling as if it was about to split in two, his throat being both on fire and drier than the Sahara desert, and Darren hovering above him looking near tears while he stroked his cheek. Darren's eyes considered him carefully with such a look of tenderness that it made Chris ache. It was like one of the looks that Blaine would give Kurt but slightly different and dialed up by a hundred in terms of intensity. A sudden bump jolted his whole body, causing the pain in his head and chest to flare unexpectedly. He gave a whimper of pain, his eyes blinking, his lids heavy from the effort it was taking for him just to remain conscious. As the pain ebbed slightly, Chris became aware that the dryness of his throat was being aggravated by a cold air blowing across his face. The smell invading his nostrils was acrid and like plastic. Chris crinkled his nose in disgust as he felt the cold plastic and elastic band of a mask settled against his face. What. The. Fuck?
Growing more alarmed by the minute at the circumstances that had led him to his current predicament, Chris flexed his hand in an attempt to jump start his circulation before reaching it upwards, intending to remove the mask from his face. His eyes widened in confusion and fear as his movements were halted by some sort of restraint holding his wrist and forearm firmly against the bed where he was lying. Instinctively, he attempted the same movement with the opposite hand, again feeling frustrated as his movements were prevented. Chris tried to lift his head and tilt it towards his hands to see what had him pinned against the bed but his movements were again prevented, this time by a hard plastic collar wrapped around his neck. Suddenly, Chris felt the hard plastic of the mask across his face and the collar around his neck squeezing tightly, leaving him breathless and panicked as he began to breathe heavily, desperate for air.
Darren watched, horrified, as Chris attempted to move his first his arms and then his head, eyes widening in panic as he realized he was restrained. Darren froze helplessly, suddenly unsure as Chris finally regained consciousness, his stomach knotting with anxiety at the naked fear in Chris' eyes. He swallowed hard as Chris' breath quickened, his breathing coming out in short, shallow breaths of air. "Shit, he's hyperventilating," Darren thought worriedly, suddenly springing into action at Chris' obvious need for reassurance.
Darren leaned forward until his face was mere inches from Chris. "Chris...Chris! Hey honey, look at me, okay?" Unconsciously, Darren's hand begin to stroke along Chris' temple, tucking a lock of hair behind Chris' ear as he spoke soothingly. "It's okay, Chris. You're okay. I'm here, hon. You're in the ambulance, okay? Do you remember what happened? Darren looked to the paramedic sitting on the other side of Chris' gurney who adjusted an IV drip before looking back to Darren gratefully. The paramedic glanced to Chris' monitor, confirming that his pulse rate was starting to drop to a more acceptable level as Darren calmed the patient, before nodding at the young man and encouraging him to continue.
Chris looked at Darren, his eyes wide and searching, his eyes and cheeks damp with tears of pain and fear. He swallowed hard before shaking his head almost imperceptibly. No, he didn't remember. And that was the thing that scared Chris most of all.
"Okay...shh, it's okay, Chris," Darren soothed automatically while he internally panicked. "Chris didn't remember?" Darren asked himself. "That isn't good, is it?" Another glance at the paramedic confirmed that whatever Darren was doing was working, that it was calming Chris in some small way. And so Darren continued on, feeling as if he was stumbling through the darkness, attempting to lead Chris with the smallest pinpoint of light despite the fact that he could barely see well enough to put one foot in front of the next without falling flat on his face. It was terrifying.
"Listen honey, you...you passed out during rehearsal, okay? You hit your head pretty hard when you passed out and you...you've been unconscious for a while. That's why we're going to the hospital. But everything's going to be fine, Chris. The doctors will help you. You just got to hang in there for a few minutes, alright? You're doing great."
Darren watched Chris carefully as he spoke, unsure of what he was saying. He felt like he was rambling...even more than usual. He was no good at this kind of stuff. And he was especially bad at it when the person he was trying to reassure was Chris. His Chris. His coworker and best friend. Someone he'd developed embarrassingly strong and overly complicated feelings for in the past few months. Darren felt as if he was barely keeping things together himself on the surface. Underneath, he was a bundle of emotions. And his carefully constructed "professional" demeanor was cracking with each passing second. Chris had always been more than a coworker, more than a friend. What Chris was to Darren wasn't something that could be easily labeled or defined. But what Darren knew was this: He'd never wanted to take someone in his arms more than he wanted to hold Chris right now. Every wince, whimper, and tear from Chris felt like a knife to Darren's chest. He ached with the need to make Chris okay. But strangely, despite this need, Darren had never felt more helpless in his whole life.
"D-d-are?" Chris suddenly gasped, his eyes boring into Darren's, begging, pleading for help.
"Yeah honey?" Darren asked immediately. "What is it? What can I do?" he continued, desperate to answer the unspoken need in Chris' eyes.
"H-hurts..." Chris spoke unsteadily. "W-why can't I m-move? Oh god, Dare.."
"Shh Chris. I know...I know it hurts, sweetheart. Once we get you to the hospital, they can give you something for the pain, okay? And they've just got you strapped down so you don't fall off the gurney, yeah? I'll ask if they can unstrap you now." Darren continued to stroke Chris' hair reassuringly as he turned to the paramedic, giving him a pleading look that could have rivaled Chris' own.
The paramedic simply shook his head apologetically. "Look, he hit his head and lost consciousness. Protocol says that we have to protect his spinal cord until he's been given x-rays of his head and neck as well as a head CT. It's just a precaution, but it is one that we've got to observe in his case.
Darren watched as Chris' eyes widened in fear at the paramedic's hurried reply. Chris began to struggle harder to turn his head, his face tensing in pain as he fought against the hard plastic collar.
Darren sighed in frustration. "Look, I get that the neck one needs to stay on, but can't we at least undo his hands...or just one of them even? I'd be freaking out too if my whole body was strapped to a gurney. I think it will help him calm down."
The paramedic shook his head again firmly. "No, we have the hand restraints because a lot of patients with head injuries get confused. Sometimes they try to pull off the neck brace or the oxygen mask. I've even had a patient rip out her IV. Sorry, but it's a safety thing."
Chris looked to Darren as he began to shiver slightly, the flush of Chris' cheeks reminding Darren of his fever which appeared to be spiking again. "D-Darren, p-p-please," Chris moaned, his hand instinctively reaching for Darren's only to be held back by the restraints. Darren felt his stomach clench involuntarily at the pleading tone to Chris' voice when suddenly, inspiration spoke again.
"Look, what if we undid his hand and I'll hold it? I can make sure he doesn't try to pull out any of his tubes or anything. I just need...I want to be able to do something to help him. Please?" Darren begged of the paramedic, desperate to do anything to calm Chris down and ease his pain.
"Oh alright...we can give it a try, I guess." the paramedic allowed reluctantly. He reached down and released the velcro strap currently pinning Chris' arm against the gurney. Darren reached out and captured Chris' hand in his before slowly lifting it to eye level, allowing Chris to see their fingers laced together as Darren's thumb traced gentle circles along the inside of Chris' wrist.
Chris, honey? I'm right here, okay? I'm not going anywhere. You're doing great. Everything's going to be fine, Chris. Just relax and try to breathe, okay?
Chris looked at Darren, then to their intertwined hands, then back to Darren's face again. After a long moment, he nodded, squeezing Darren's hand tightly as his breathing began to slow a bit.
Darren gave him a relieved smile in return, squeezing his hand in response, and brushing the back of his hand against Chris' cheek. "Good Chris, that's good. We're almost at the hospital, alright? Just hang on for a few more minutes."
Chris and Darren were both startled as the ambulance hit a bump, jolting the gurney slightly and causing Chris to let out a strangled cry of pain. Darren looked down to see Chris' eyes tightly closed, his face a mask of pain. "Shit, shit, shit!" Darren screamed silently as he watched Chris struggle to draw a breath.
"Chris?" Darren called tentatively. His only response came from Chris' hand which suddenly crushed into Darren's with surprising force. "I know, Chris... I know it hurts, honey, but you got to stay with me, okay? Look at me, Chris...please?
With seemingly superhuman effort, Chris drew his eyes open, blinking up at Darren with tear-filled eyes. The throb at his temple and at the base of his skull was enormous and growing stronger by the moment. But what was really scaring him was the dull ache and heaviness in his chest. Every breath he drew felt like it was stretching his lungs to their limit and despite breathing rapidly, he felt like he was barely getting enough oxygen. A tickle in the back of his throat became a spasm and suddenly Chris was coughing until his throat burned, his chest was on fire, and he was breathless and gasping for air again.
Darren winced as Chris let out a deep, barking cough that seemed to linger for much too long. He felt helpless to carry Chris through his coughing jag, his only comfort being to continue to hold tightly to Chris' hand and stroke the sweat-dampened hair from his perspiring forehead.
The paramedic also frowned in concern. He turned a nozzle on the portable oxygen in order to further assist Chris' breathing before sliding the ear pieces of his stethoscope into his ears. He placed the other end of the stethoscope against Chris' chest and paused for several moments, listening carefully to Chris' coughing and wheezing.
Darren continued to stroke Chris' forehead gently as he came down from his coughing jag, breathing hard as he struggled to draw a normal breath. "Jesus Chris...you okay? You sound awful, sweetheart. Are you having trouble breathing?" Darren asked, growing more worried with each minute as he watched Chris decompensate before his very eyes.
"Yeah... 'm...'kay" Chris rasped out between gulps of air. "Just...tired...so tired...Dare. M-mh...chest...h-hurts though. I'm...s-sick?" Chris asked, his teeth starting to chatter.
"Yeah honey...you're sick. I'm pretty sure that's why you passed out. But that's okay...that's why we're taking you to the hospital. They're going to take good care of you," Darren soothed.
Chris fought against his exhaustion to open his eyes, looking directly at Darren. He tugged at Darren's hand until both of their hands were resting over his heart, their fingers tightly laced together. "D-d-Darren...will you...st-stay? I d-don't want you to...to leave, 'kay? Don't like...hospitals."
"Hey..." Darren replied hoarsely, squeezing Chris' hand tightly in his as he gazed down at him. "I meant what I said...I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm going to be with you the whole time, Chris. I'm right here, honey."
Chris allowed his eyelids to slide shut, blocking out his surroundings save for the feel of Darren's warm hand nestled against his and resting over his heart. He allowed himself to be lulled into a semi-conscious state by the gentle rhythm of Darren's hand brushing through his hair. For now, he was safe. He was home. As long as Darren was here, he would be okay. Whatever came next, they would face it as the always had: together.
Hope you enjoyed the (long overdue) update. I promise that I won't make you wait so long next time. I should have the next update posted by January 2nd. I'd love for you to review and let me know what you think. Is there something you're dying to see in an upcoming chapter? Let me know... Nothing would please me more!
If you aren't already following me on Tumblr, what are you waiting for? I posted a preview of this chapter last night so there are benefits to following the story in both places. You can find me at place-that-ive-been-dreaming-of (dot) tumblr (dot) com