Hospitals
A South Park FanFic
Oneshot!

It's a regular thing for us to spend most of our Sundays in the hospital. Our nights out usually result in someone getting injured. Most of the time, it's Stan. Stan has spectacularly bad luck, and his ankle, both his arms, and his nose have been broken on several occasions. When it isn't Stan, it's Eric, crying like a baby after getting too macho with a guy in a bar and ending up in a fight.

Even I've had my fair share of accidents, though not as severe. Usually I bang my head falling over a trash can and have to stay overnight in case of concussion.

This time though, it's serious.

Kenny never gets injured. It's weird. It's like all the bad luck he had when he was younger has just reversed. He gets all the girls (Though he never touches any of them-Hard to believe right?), he's never in fights. I don't think he's ever had a bad hair day or a zit.

But last night was different. We were having our usual night, hitting all the best clubs.

Kenny was dancing in the middle of the street. It was a closed road, no cars were supposed to be around.

Then one came out of nowhere and hit him.

We'd been on our way home, so it was just me and him. I called the ambulance. I've been here hours. I got a little bit of sleep a while ago, but I'm real worried. Kenny's in there man, behind that mint green door. He's in a fucking coma.

Who's this? Oh, it's Stan. Not Kenny's parents then. You think someone would have told them by now.

Stan gives me a huge hug, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I'm okay now, Stan always makes me feel better.

"What happened?" Stan asks, and I quickly fill him in on last nights events. He's soon biting his lip and staring at the door too.

"What did the doctors say?"

I shug. I can't speak, there's a huge lump in my throat. That's Kenny in there, dying.

The doctor emerges from the room and Stan and I become suddenly alert.

McCormick?" He asks. I nod vigourously, praying that it's good news.

"Relatives?" He drawls. I shake, the flaps of my ratty old hat bobbing.

"Sorry, then, you'll have to leave." He tells us, raising his eyebrows. "Only relatives are allowed information on our patients."

"He doesn't have family!" Stan cries, holding out his arms.

"Yeah, we're the only people he has." I add, tears beginning to roll down my cheeks again.

The doctor looks at us as if we're pathetic, but sighs and flips the papers on his chart.

"He's stable. He should be able to sleep it off, but he will have to stay in the hospital for a few weeks."

Stan lets out a huge breath that ruffles his fringe. I lean heavily on his shoulder and grin, tears flowing freely now.

"He'll need to stay in bed for the first two weeks or so. Then he will be allowed to be carted around in a wheelchair."

Stan stiffened. "Permanently?"

"No,no, just temporarily. He will need to have therapies to help him walk again, but he will, with no severe lasting damage."

Stan relaxes again, and wraps an arm around my shoulders.

"Can we see him?" I ask, choking a little.

The doctor nods, and stands aside so we can enter the mystery room.

Kenny is lying in the bed, looking ridiculously bright in the dismal setting. His orange parka is slung over a chair beside his bed, but his T-Shirt is orange also, and I'm pretty sure his jeans too. A dark red stain is splattered across his left side. I wince, remembering the sound of impact.

Two chairs are stationed behind the door. I'm exhausted, so I collapse straight into one. Stan goes over to Kenny, and I watch him examine the machines, check everything's in order, before he comes to sit beside me.

I lean my head on his shoulder, and he rests his chin in my hair. He strokes my back rhythmetically.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Kenny's machine...

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

There's a huge crash outside, a loud obnoxious voice. I stir, trying to disentangle myself from Stan's limbs without disturbing him.

"I don't fucking care what you have to say, I'm going the fuck in there!" Comes the voice.

The door crashes open. I hold perfectly still, afraid Kenny has died, that this is the doctor come to try and save him.

But it isn't. Eric Cartman is stumbling into the room. He doesn't notice Stan and I sitting here. He runs straight over to Kenny and stares down at him with wide, afraid eyes.

Cartman's afraid? What the...?

Then all of a sudden he's back to cool and collected, the Cartman we all know. He regards Kenny with unconcerned eyes, no tilt to his lips.

Then he raises an eyebrow and reaches out. At first I think he's going to do something stupid like prod Kenny's nose, but he picks something up off Kenny's chest. It glints in the harsh lights attatched to the ceiling.

I squint. It looks like Kenny is wearing a necklace. From here it looks like half a heart.

Then I remember. The BFF necklace. I didn't know they still wore those things. Weird they would after all this time.

I watch as Cartman reaches beneath his own shirt and pulls out the other half.

His uncaring expression melts into a cheesy smile. He puts a hand on either side of Kenny and leans down carefully, trying not to move him.

My eyes widen as Cartman presses his lips gently but firmly to Kenny's.

"You're gona be okay, Ken." He whispers. "I'm here now."