A/N: Hey guys! I'm back! This chapter is angstier than the last... Toad is not a happy person... so beware. :)

Toad P.O.V

As soon as we'd gotten back to base, Doc had said a bunch of fancy medical stuff and rushed Archer off to surgery. That was two hours ago, and in those two long hours, my creative mind had thought up every single way something could have gone wrong.

...And there was a shit ton of them.

Archer could have bled out because Doc slipped and cut something he wasn't supposed to. He could never wake up. He could have brain damage. He could have a piece of shrapnel still stuck in him somewhere because Doc missed it. There could be bone fragments from his broken arm that cause severe internal bleeding. His heart could just randomly stop beating.

But one horrifying thought always remained at the front of my mind- what if something happened and Doc couldn't bring him back?

The mere thought of it shoved the oxygen from my lungs and made my stomach twist into knots. I was so scared of something going wrong that I felt like I was going to throw up.

I couldn't sit still the entire time Archer was in that operating room. Most of the time, I paced right outside the door, listening for anything that might indicate he was okay. But there was nothing to hear other than Doc asking for a scalpel or a clamp every once in a while. Before he had closed the door, he'd told me not to worry. He'd said to go get some food and rest while he operated, because it was going to take a while.

But I couldn't bring myself to leave. Being right outside made me feel as if I had some control over the situation- even though I was painfully aware that I didn't. And the thought of eating anything was about as far out of my mind as it was possible to get.

I thought it hadn't been possible to worry any more than I already was, but it was going on two and a half hours now, and my worry grew with each passing minute.

What could possibly be taking so long? I wondered as I turned and continued to pace.

My legs felt like jelly and my feet were so sore I didn't even want to think about it, but none of that mattered. Archer was the only important thing right now.

I was so shocked when the door opened that I almost ran into it. Doc pushed a sleeping Archer out into the hallway on a gurney, sighing when he saw me standing there.

"Why am I not surprised to see you waiting outside?"

I ignored his comment and asked, "Is Archer gonna be okay?"

"He should be fine after a month or so- assuming he gets enough rest, eats properly, and there are no complications during the healing process."

Well that's good...

He continued, "I had to put a few pins in his arm to hold the joints together and keep the bone in the proper position. I also removed all the bone fragments near the break. Then I fixed his leg up- that's what took the longest, because I had to be absolutely certain there wasn't any more shrapnel in the wound. It'll be a while before he walks again, but I'm confident he'll make a full recovery."

I was so incredibly relieved that I didn't trust myself to speak. ...But I knew we weren't out of the woods yet. I wouldn't be able to believe he was actually okay until he woke up and spoke to me.

"...But I do have one major concern." Doc said as we turned a corner and entered the double doors of the med bay.

My stomach dropped. All of my relief disappeared so quickly that I wondered if I had ever actually been relieved in the first place. Doc must've seen the blood drain from my face, because his expression went from thoughtful to concerned in about half a second.

"Breathe, Toad. It's nothing life-threatening. Archer's still going to be fine, I promise."

I tried to stay calm, but when doctors say they have a major concern, it's usually pretty damn bad.

"...What's wrong with him then?" I asked around the lump in my throat.

"I need to know how close he was to the grenade when it went off." He said, hooking Archer up to an IV and a heart monitor.

"Uhh... A few yards, maybe? He was pretty close to it..."

Doc nodded thoughtfully, mumbling a few medical terms as he dug through a drawer of medical supplies.

As if on cue, the scene replayed in my mind. My stomach lurched violently and I gagged. I had been so anxious and on edge all day that I was already nauseas, but seeing that again was the final straw.

"Toad? Are you alri-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence before I ran to the trashcan in the corner of the room. I retched as my stomach heaved goopy chunks of food into the trashcan. I heard Doc sigh somewhere behind me, and a moment later I could hear water running from the sink. Just as another round started, he set a glass of water on the table a few feet away from me, patting my back on his way back to Archer's bed.

When my stomach was empty, I dry heaved a few times and it finally stopped. I groaned as I spat out a few leftover clumps of food, then did it a few more times in a feeble attempt to get the disgusting taste out of my mouth.

"Wash your mouth out with water. It'll help." Doc said quietly.

I grabbed the glass of water he had left for me and rinsed my mouth out a few times, sighing when I was done.

I felt shitty.

I trudged over to the bed beside Archer's and sat down.

"...What was your concern?" I asked, wincing slightly as my throat- which was now sore- protested.

He ignored my question and said, "You need to stop stressing yourself out like this. Archer is going to wake up in a few hours. He's going to recover and he'll be fine, but you won't if you keep worrying so much."

"It's not your problem." I grumbled.

"Stress can have serious negative effects on your health- which is already happening- and I'm your doctor, so it's my problem as much as it is yours."

"Would you just tell me what's wrong with him? Please?"

He sighed and replied, "I'm concerned that the grenade going off so close to him may have damaged his hearing. It's called a Threshold Shift, and there's two types- temporary and permanent. There's not really any way to tell if he has any damage until he wakes up, and the chances of him having none are slim. We'll just have to hope it's temporary- in which case his hearing will return fully in a few days."

"...Will he be able to hear anything?" I croaked.

"He will, but the more damage there is, the harder it'll be for him to hear. So for example, if the damage is severe- you could be yelling right next to him and he'd have trouble hearing you. He might have Tinnitus- which is a constant ringing in the ears- as well, but we won't know until he wakes up."

I didn't really feel like saying anything. Archer was already hurt. He was already going to take about a month to recover. But now he might be deaf as well. All because of a stupid grenade.

I was so incredibly frustrated that I felt like punching a wall.

"Alright, I want you to get some rest. You're starting to look like a zombie." Doc said firmly.

I looked at Archer, then back at him.

"But-"

"No buts. He'll be asleep for at least a few more hours. You're my patient too, and that bullet wound isn't going to heal if you don't get any rest."

"I'll be fine. I have to be here when he wakes up."

"Toad, you and the team left for the mission yesterday night- and I imagine you were up and getting ready for it at least an hour before you left. I also know you didn't sleep on the ride back. So you haven't slept in over a day." The medic pointed out.

"And I won't sleep for another if he doesn't wake up before then." I said stubbornly.

Doc sighed and asked, "How do you expect to be able to take care of him when he wakes up if you don't get any rest?"

"I'll be fine, Doc, leave me be."

"...Would you at least eat something?"

"I'll eat when Archer eats."

He groaned in frustration and waited a few moments, seemingly thinking of a way to reply.

"...Fine, but at least lie down for a while. I gotta give you pain meds for that bullet wound first, though. I forgot to give you some earlier." He said, searching for a syringe.

I eyed him warily.

"I don't need any."

Without skipping a beat, he replied, "No? Well you still need antibiotics. If that wound gets infected, it'll be pretty damn bad."

He rummaged around in a few places before finding a vial of antibiotics, then he filled the syringe.

"Why can't you just leave me be?" I complained, glaring at him as he cleaned my arm with an alcohol swab.

"Because I'm your doctor, and if you're being an idiot it's my job to stop you."

"You're annoying."

He rolled his eyes and injected the medicine into my arm, walking over and dropping the syringe in the sharps disposal container. After a few seconds, waves of drowsiness washed over me. My ability to think clearly- or at all- had disappeared completely.

"What the hell..." I slurred, rubbing at my eyes- which now seemed to have lost their ability to stay open.

Doc walked back over to me and pushed me to lay down on the bed, saying, "Get some rest."

"Nooo..." I whined, unsuccessfully trying to keep my eyes open.

"Goodnight, Toad."

My eyes finally closed despite my efforts, and I fell asleep.