Listlessly, he tipped the Styrofoam cup around, balancing it precariously on its end atop the wooden table. His free hand dipped down to the t-shirt of Stan's that Wendy had brought him, mindlessly tugging at the loose fabric. His eyes drooped exhaustedly, stealing a glance at a clock out in the hallway and groaning under his breath. Only four in the afternoon. He'd been up for over 32 hours.

Kyle leaned his head back and stared at the bright lights above him, expression blanking over. He'd had a whirlwind of getting shuffled around today; being thrown from doctor to doctor at the hospital, x-rays and pictures of bruising for evidence being taken left and right. He'd had a police escort the entire trip, finding himself no less than spiteful that Stan couldn't be the one with him, but begrudgingly accepting it anyway after Stan himself chose what officer was allowed to accompany him. Whatever kept him safe from possible ramifications he supposed. He'd sat in the waiting room of the otolaryngologist's office, stuck next to a teenager whining on her phone as to the story of her own broken nose and struggling to hear over her as the news played on the television above them. He'd gazed in bewilderment as his name was rattled off time and again, hearing through dips in the teen's dialogue that mentions of Cartman were always closely surrounding it.

No mention of Mysterion or a body, though.

He'd been sent from the hospital with a knee brace and crutches, paired with a nice, heavy dose of Percocet to wade him through the next few weeks of recovery. From there he was escorted straight to the police station, despite doctors yelling that he should be taken home to get his rest. Kyle just wanted this first phase ended, opting to comply with the cops' wishes and give his statement.

Why they'd kept him waiting in the interrogation room for a fucking half hour with just some tepid coffee, though if it was so damn urgent, he'd never know.

He glanced up as the doorway finally had some movement aside from passing officers, watching Murphy and Yates finally stepping through the barrier and letting out a silent sigh of relief. Good. One step closer to his bed. Yates nodded at him, "How are you?"

"Tired," he responded wearily, watching them take a seat across from him. "Is this going to take a really long time? I-I don't mind talking but I'm really fading in and out here."

Murphy shook his head, "No, no we won't take much of your time," he promised, reaching over and switching on a tape recorder, the men leaning back and staring at the redhead. "Can you state your name for the record, please?"

"Kyle Broflovski."

"Mr. Broflovski, can you tell us what exactly happened?"

Kyle blinked, looking between them. "Do… do you want me to start with the shady stuff at the office or when they kidnapped me?"

The men glanced at each other before Yates cleared his throat, "Let's start with the kidnapping. We can come back to the schematics another day. This will just keep them booked."

He let out a grateful breath. Good. Going into fucking conspiracy details would keep him here for hours. "It was yesterday evening at about 6:45," he started slowly. "I left my office to get my assistant so we could go home. Um… t-they'd locked him in the supply closet I'm guessing because I heard him in there when I was running. Anyway, Kashkov and Burke ambushed me. I got into the parking lot but they got me down and threw me in the trunk."

"And why did they take you?" Murphy asked.

"Because I know too much," he shrugged listlessly. "Cartman wanted me out of the way but wanted me kept alive… so they had to grab me."

"Had you ever met these men before?"

Kyle nodded softly. "Yeah. They broke into my house about a month ago, hacked into my laptop so Cartman could spy on me. I came home before they were done and they assaulted me. I'd met them before and after that at my office as well," he said. "So I knew I needed to get away from them."

"But you couldn't," Yates finished.

He narrowed his eyes, "No. They're both bigger than me. I'm an accountant, not a bodybuilder. If they could have only abducted me if they could beat me in a numbers contest then I would've had a shot."

"Mr. Broflovski, we just need all the details," he said firmly.

Kyle shrunk back guiltily. "Sorry I'm just… so tired," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, cringing at the greasy residue of the cheap shampoo they'd given him to wash out the blood at the hospital. "They threw me into the car and took me… to some warehouse, I don't know where."

"You didn't see?" Murphy asked.

"I was in the trunk and blindfolded, so no. I was there a few hours, then brought out to the main room. Cartman threatened me, told me he was going to sell me. Then they took me back to the back for another hour or so before dragging me back out."

Yates nodded, tapping on the table and watching his disheveled form carefully. "What happened then?"

"Uh… there was a camera," he muttered to himself, the events playing out fuzzily. "I-I can't remember exactly what happened but there was some… online auction for me?" he winced. "But Kashkov offered him more money and… and I don't remember why but Cartman hit me and I went unconscious for awhile." He leaned back and sighed, trying to regather all the events, finding them meshing together far too quickly. "I woke up and… and he said he was going to let Kashkov… do what he wanted with me," he said slowly, bile rising in his throat at the notion.

Murphy nodded slowly. "Did he?"

Kyle looked between the both of them, at a loss for what to say. He knew nothing happened to him… but from what Kashkov and Cartman had told him, they thought something did. His mind flittered around the notion for a bit. Would it be wrong to accuse him of that? Attempted, yes, but it was stopped by Mysterion. But they didn't know he'd ever been in there. In their minds, he'd never been saved. The officers looked at each other from his hesitance and Yates cleared his throat.

"Mr. Broflovski," he said softly, getting green eyes back on him. "He already confessed to it."

The redhead's brow crinkled, not sure of how to proceed from here. Was this false accusation? Would the courts understand what the hell had actually happened? Well, no. Because he was part of what happened and he didn't fucking understand it. He cleared his throat, rubbing his arm sheepishly. "I um… I-I don't know if I want to… talk about that. I was… really fuzzy-headed from being knocked out and I can't… give a good recount of what happened," he managed to work out. If Kashkov indoctrinated himself in the matter, then fine. But Kyle just couldn't make himself go along with what, to him, was nothing more than a hallucination on their parts.

The officers nodded in understanding, "That happens, Kyle," Murphy sympathized. "We'll just go off his confession for now and see what comes up." Kyle nodded back and shifted uncomfortably, eyes drooping again. The seasoned detective twisted his lips at him, watching him exhaustedly swaying back and forth on his chair. He was nearly completely out of it, they weren't going to be able to worm much more from him. He subtly gave a gentle kick to Yates' ankle, the man looking at him with the same doubtful expression on his face.

Yates sighed, rubbing his eyes. This was enough to keep his detainees at the very least. "All right, Mr. Broflovski, you're about to pass out. Why don't you get a ride home and we'll come back to this within a couple of days."

The redhead looked up at him in a daze, nodding softly, "Okay," he whispered.

"But," he held up his hand, looking over him carefully. "Before you go. I have one more thing to ask you about." Kyle hitched his brow, nodding him on. Yates folded his hands on his lap, leaning back in his chair and staring at the man intensively. "I want to know about the vigilante."

Kyle kept his face straight, looking at him wearily, "What do you mean?"

"I mean the vigilante," he narrowed his gaze. "We know he was involved in the situation. What part did he play?"

Kyle tongued over his lips, straightening himself up and shrugging listlessly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The sergeant frowned, "Broflovski, don't play dumb on me. I'm sure he tried to save you or something."

His eyes brightened falsely, voice dripping with thick derision, "Ohhh you mean the Good Samaritan who came to my aid. Don't know a thing about him. Came out of nowhere, helped me, and went on his way. A real everyday hero. Don't know his name or what he looks like. So rare you find fellow citizens who'll lend you a hand and ask for nothing in return. Isn't it?" he challenged, meeting the warning spark in Yates' stare point-for-point.

Yates tapped his finger on the table irritably, Murphy looking between the both of them in confliction. "Mr. Broflovski, holding information from us is an offense," the sergeant reminded him sternly.

"I'm telling you what I know," he snapped. "He swooped in, helped me get the upper hand, and left. That's it, that's all."

The sergeant shook his head and let out a long, frustrated breath, knowing well enough he wasn't going to pry more out of him, not now. "All right. Fine. Go on and get out," he waved him away. "Get some sleep and get your leg up. We'll call you in a few days after you've gathered your thoughts."

"Thank you," Kyle said, grabbing his crutches from beside of him and making way to the door, tongue sticking out as he struggled to get it opened. He let out a frustrated groan before finally making headway, hobbling his way out and back down the hall to find his ride.

Murphy and Yates stared after him before looking back at each other. "Well. That got us nowhere," Yates said flatly.

His partner frowned, "He's had a hell of a night. No one is ever a good witness when they're in this state. I'm sure next time around he'll have more to give us when he can, you know, think."

Yates rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement, glancing at him tiredly. "You ready for the next one?"

He sunk lightly, "Ready as I'll ever be." The man glanced up at the officer waiting beside the door and nodded sharply. "Go get him."

Stan sat at his desk, finger pressed up through his hair and a long, exhausted sigh escaping his lips. He didn't know where to even begin sorting out what he'd been through today. Everything was such a blur he could hardly keep track of his own name let alone any of the information that Kyle had dumped on him while driving him to the hospital.

"He's alive," Kyle had finally said something after driving for five minutes in silence, letting the redhead catch his breath from the mania he'd just been forced through.

"…What?"

"Kenny… he's alive. C-Cartman doesn't even remember killing him."

Stan had stared ahead in bewilderment as he drove, wondering if he needed to get Kyle's parents to meet them at the hospital to make sure he didn't need checked in for some mental instability in Conifer and driven over. "Dude, I saw him-"

"AND I WATCHED IT HAPPEN!" he'd shouted, Stan nearly veering off the road from the shock. "But he came back. He told me it happens all the time… He came back for me, Stan."

He'd squinted, "He… you think he came back to life for you?"

"No! Like I said, he said it happens! And no one ever remembers! Then something about me not sleeping being why I did?..." he'd trailed off, looking out the window and huddling into Stan's jacket. "But he came back and he found me… He came back."

Stan had looked over at him, wondering just how goddamn hard he'd been whacked over the head. "Ky… I think you might be hallucinating. Just seeing what you-"

"Stan," he'd cut him off sharply. "Stan, I know what I saw. And you heard Cartman scream that he'd come after me and Ken again! Before you got there, Ken was fighting him, I sent him off so you wouldn't arrest him or something! Please, Stan, just believe me," he'd begged. "I never would've gotten out and away without him, no way."

Stan bit his knuckle, staring at the picture of Wendy and Sam on his desk and heaving a deep breath. Well, he was definitely having a hard time not believing Kyle at this point. Pulling back open the case data, everything about Kenny's death was gone. Not a single mention of ambulance on the scene, or his time of death declaration. The blood spatter analysis was wiped out. Everything that Stan himself had been on the scene for and had supervised had disappeared without a trace. And Kyle couldn't have been far off, Stan highly doubted his ability to fully slip away from the three after him with as bad of shape as he was in.

But it didn't make sense.

He jerked his head up at a rapping on his door frame, seeing one of the officers staring at him. "They're ready for you," he informed the detective. Stan nodded in thanks, getting up to his feet and brushing off his shirt as he made way out of the room. He glanced out the window as he passed by, catching a glimpse of one of the senior officers helping Kyle into his patrol car. Stan breathed a sigh of relief. Kyle could go home and he could sleep off some of this nightmare, that was what mattered as far as his best friend was concerned. He'd been through way too much over the course of one night, and anyone who knew him in the slightest could tell it was all starting to get to him.

Stan rolled back his shoulders, making way down the brightly lit corridor towards the interrogation room. Taking a deep breath, he stopped outside the door out of sight, forcing himself to calm down. This was expected, routine in fact when an officer got too involved with a personal case. But it didn't matter, Stan knew he'd done the right thing. Now he just had to make his case.

The man stepped around the doorway to find his superiors waiting for him. "Sirs," he greeted, shutting the door behind him and making way to his chair.

Yates nodded over to Murphy, the detective twisting his lips before doing as his gesture dictated and pressing record on a fresh tape. "State your name."

"Stanley Marsh."

"Marsh, what were you doing?" he demanded, not willing to go through the lead-up that any civilian would be subjected to. A waste of their time in this instance.

Stan cleared his throat, leaning back and folding his hands in his lap. "I was doing my job, Sir. I was protecting my town and its citizens."

"And what is this citizen's relationship to you?"

"Kyle's been my best friend since we were toddlers," he said firmly.

Murphy gnawed his lip, "And… why didn't you pass off the case to someone else considering such a close relationship to the victim?"

"There's no law against me participating in this investigation," he reminded them. "Is it not the best of options? Sometimes, yes. But not only was Kyle involved, but the guy who took him was our childhood friend. I wasn't about to let him think that he was going to get away with this."

Yates glared, "Marsh, no officer was willing to let him get off scot-free."

"You're wrong," he snapped. "Sir, we have men on this team that are working for that kidnapping piece of shit. I made a mistake trusting anyone else to go looking for Kyle. If I'd overlooked a detail in the information I'd received, he could have been long gone and we never would have gotten him back. I did what I did because Kyle needed someone who was willing to put him first. And I was more likely to do that than anyone else on the force."

"You could have jeopardized your brothers by letting your friend's safety take priority over theirs."

"Kyle is my brother!" he countered. "And our job is to jeopardize ourselves! Sir, my job description isn't just sitting at my desk and filing shit! We're supposed to be out there figuring out how to protect our town! And now we have the stepping stone to start doing just that," he said firmly. "We've been avoiding it for too long. We've been letting someone else handle our beat, and that's unacceptable. Write me up if you want, but I was just doing my job and getting us started on an investigation we should've been involved in months ago when we started picking up details."

Murphy let out a long breath, glancing over at Yates staring daggers into the younger man and shaking his head. "Stan," he began gently, the venom in his stare dropping as he looked at the graying man, "You did the right thing," he assured him, feeling Yates shooting his head over towards him in disbelief and holding his hand up for him to let him finish. "You acted accordingly to the situation… but you did break laws in the process, Stan."

His shoulders slumped, "I know, but-"

"Breaking and entering," Yates interjected. "Assembling task forces without getting the proper authority to do so. Approving overtime without an okay."

Blue eyes narrowed, "That one isn't illegal, it's just irritating."

"Same thing in my book, Marsh," he said sternly. "Not to mention endangering a civilian!"

"Butters wouldn't fucking leave and I didn't have time to-"

"Then we have you using abuse of power to take tapes from a location you broke into?" he raised his brows. "Care to explain that one?"

Stan growled, "I had probable cause to enter the premises, I had a witness who found Kyle's bag and blood as well as an abandoned car in the lot."

"You didn't have a warrant, no one actually witnessed what happened."

"I had exigent circumstances, Sir," he said sharply. "I was within my rights to search the premises. And I found not only signs of struggle, but I found Butters locked in the goddamn closet and that tape proving that Kyle was abducted. I acted on instinct and it saved an innocent trapped within the building and one taken from the location. Obviously I made the right move."

Yates took a long breath and chewed on his tongue irritably. "How about the fact that you've been withholding information from the department even though Mr. Broflovski told you of something illegal happening?"

Blue eyes gleamed over venomously, "I wasn't about to let him be hauled off to prison. Cartman had every fucking angle covered to keep himself safe and get Kyle locked up in his place. I was protecting a citizen."

"Using favoritism," he said dryly.

Stan finally broke eye contact and stared down at the table bitterly. "Yes. I used favoritism and protected an innocent man. My bad. Next time I'll arrest the next person who needs my help."

"Drop the attitude, Marsh," Yates demanded.

"Sir," Murphy interjected, the situation spiraling out of their control at the rate it was going. "I advised Stan not to report it," he admitted, getting a shocked stare out of his partner. "He was absolutely right; it was a no-win situation for Broflovski. I take responsibility on that one."

Yates rolled his eyes, leaning his head back and groaning in aggravation. "Goddamn it, Mitch."

"We were protecting an innocent," Murphy repeated, looking over to see Stan giving him a small, grateful smile.

"Fine," the sergeant shrugged, tilting his head back down and glaring at the noirette across from them. "Then, Marsh. Care to explain working with the vigilante?"

Stan straightened back up, "What vigilante?"

"Oh for Christ's sake!" he exclaimed. "You know damn well which vigilante! M!"

He blinked before slowly shrugging, "I'm sorry that's not ringing a bell. All I know about is the Good Samaritan who helped Kyle escape."

Yates' face contorted in frustration, "Marsh, we're not going to arrest M. We just need to know what he's up to."

"Being a dutiful citizen and helping his neighbors," he said plainly. "A real humanitarian."

"He's interfering with police investigations!"

Stan narrowed his eyes, "What investigations? We haven't touched the syndicate problem, which is the only thing this Good Samaritan was looking at. We were forbidden from doing so." Yates came to a stop, shoulders sinking a bit as he gazed into Stan's unwavering stare, reading the challenge written all over his expression. Murphy could barely contain his smirk, shoulders shaking as he laughed to himself, looking between the both of them for the next one to make their move.

Yates groaned, putting his elbow on the table and rubbing his temple with his fingers. "Fine. M isn't a vigilante. Fucking fine."

Murphy let out a breath and shook his head, turning back to look at Stan, face dropping a bit in sympathy. "Stan… regardless of everything that's happened… you did still break the law," he winced.

He glanced up, "Am I being arrested?"

He shook his head, "No, no. Your actions led to good things, regardless of the method. We may finally be able to start cracking down on this problem, rework the force so we have more cops like you instead of backstabbing, bought-off pieces of shit," he frowned. "But… you are being suspended. Three weeks maximum. With pay," he added. "We're gonna have to take this to the chief and you may have to come in and defend yourself if we can't do it sufficiently." He watched Stan sinking lower and he held up his hand, "Hey. You're not gonna lose your job over this," he promised. "Take it as a vacation. When you come back, we'll get you set up on the task force to start picking apart this syndicate. All right?"

Stan nodded softly, "Okay. Is that all? I… really should get some sleep."

Murphy smirked softly, "And I'm sure Wendy is ready to tear you apart."

He snorted, "Nah. She's just glad we're all alive."

"Speaking of," Yates stopped him, raising his hand as he began standing up. "You said when we arrived on the scene you had a body. Where is said body?"

Stan glanced between his superiors and cleared his throat, getting up to his feet and shrugging. He slipped off his badge and gun, laying it on the table in front of them. "Apparently I misinterpreted what I saw. Have a good night, Sirs."

They watched confusedly as he turned on his heel and quietly slipped out of the room before looking at each other again. The sergeant raised his brow, "How do you misinterpret a dead body?"

Murphy shrugged, "He was in a frantic state. Hallucination, maybe. Doesn't really matter I guess. He got his friend out, that's what counts."

Yates let out an exhausted sigh, grabbing Stan's badge and turning it in his hand a bit. "Fuckin' kids," he muttered. "Rogue cops and vigilantes and all this other shit just getting in the way of small-town life, ya know?"

"I'd say it's more the crime ring getting in the way of life, not rogue cops," Murphy shrugged, snagging their tape from the deck and putting his files away neatly. "Stan's not a rogue, anyway. He's a kid who saw his friend in danger. Who wouldn't act like that to get them safe again?"

The sergeant tossed the badge back onto the table and quirked his brow at him. "And the vigilante?"

Hazel eyes swept over him, an innocent shrug rolling through his shoulders. "What vigilante?"

The sounds of the night began weighing down on him as he drifted back into consciousness. His fingers clutched his blanket, body curling and a soft whimper working its way through a dried throat. Kyle's body pinched as he tried to work himself back into the waking world, eyes opening to a bleary scene of moonlight spilling in through his window. He let out a sigh, cringing at the beginning pounding of his aching head. He groaned, back of his mind telling him to buckle on up, that was probably going to be his reality for the next few days at least.

His hand blindly fumbled to his nightstand, reaching around and pouting as he remembered that he had no fucking idea where his phone was. Or his laptop. Or his car. He was without any fucking means of communication. He grumbled bitterly, forcing himself to sit up and rub at his pounding temple. He reached over and turned on his bedside lamp, hissing dramatically at the light blinding him all at once. He waved his hands in front of him a bit, not quite sure what he was accomplishing as he batted through rays of light, but it just seemed to be the only correct response.

Kyle shook his head, genially creaking open his eyes to look around his empty room and taking a long breath. He scratched up through his hair, a back portion still damp from his half-effective shower before he'd collapsed into bed at last at around five thirty. Genially, he swung his legs out of bed, eyeing the brace wrapped around his knee below the leg of his boxers and sinking lightly. He'd seen himself for the first time when he finally got home and to his bathroom, completely shocked at just how busted up his face had been and only imagining it looked even worse before the nurses had cleaned the blood off of him. Bruises were lying under both of his eyes from his swollen nose, his right eye completely engulfed in purple from his hit with Cartman's elbow. He had dirt scrapings that left little cuts around his cheeks and temple, his wrists wrapped in stark bandages from his cuff wounds. He frowned as he looked at them again, knowing he'd have to wear fucking sleeves going out in public. He definitely didn't need anyone getting the wrong idea about what had happened there.

He cracked his neck with a whine, a shudder running down his bruised spine. He glanced down at his bare chest and let out a disgusted breath, abhorring the mess of color splattering over him so ungraciously. Kyle reached to grab his crutches leaning against his nightstand, pulling them over to help him onto his feet, wobbling a bit as he tried to find his one-legged stance. His head drooped exhaustively, not looking forward to a trek into the kitchen, but he hadn't eaten in two fucking days, emphasized by a long-winded growling spawning from his gut. "All right, all right," he muttered.

Slowly, he pivoted to move towards his door, stopped by a familiar rhythm tapping against glass. He whipped his head around, regretting it as he grew dizzy and fell over into a heap, his crutches landing on him in a cruel taunt of his clumsiness. His cheeks grew red, looking up to see a caped form watching him intensely. He gulped, shaking and grabbing onto his bed, crawling his way back up and hopping slowly towards his window. Stopping in front of the pane, he looked to see disheartened eyes glistening at him from beyond the glass and he bit his lip. The redhead unlocked the barrier, both of them sliding up the window together and staring at one another in silence.

Kyle gulped, "First time you've broken into my bedroom window," he managed to croak out.

Mysterion grinned sadly, "Well, maybe now that this is all over you'll finally spend some time in here."

He let out a tiny huff of a laugh, moving so he could leap into the room. He watched him land gracefully in a roll on his carpet and moved to reclose the pane. "What time is it?"

"'Bout midnight," he answered.

Kyle narrowed his eyes, looking back at him with a cocked head. "How long have you been out there?"

Mysterion cleared his throat embarrassedly. "Since about… eight," he winced.

"Dude," he raised his brow.

He pulled a newspaper from behind his back, waving it around sheepishly. "I… I finished a few crosswords while you were sleeping, though." Kyle snorted, trying to pivot back around and losing his balance, yelping as Mysterion moved behind him and caught him before he toppled over again. "I gotcha," he assured him, hefting him up and putting his arm around his shoulders. "Whatcha need?"

"Food," he said tiredly. "I haven't eaten since two mornings ago."

Mysterion hummed, moving him and sitting him down on his bed. "Want me to make you something?"

Kyle's face fell, "I've seen you in a kitchen. You are not cooking. With all I've survived these past few days I'd really hate to go out from a house fire from a grilled cheese fiasco."

The caped man pouted before laughing and sitting down beside him, "I can use a microwave if you have anything for that."

"I have no idea if I have anything. I usually just order out, but I need to drown my pain with food. And beer," he added with an eye roll.

Mysterion smirked, patting his head gently. "Chill here for a minute, I'll go find you somethin'," he promised, getting up onto his feet and heading out of his bedroom. Kyle blinked in the surreal circumstance, wondering for a moment if he'd just imagined all of that happening. He glanced down at his bottle of Percocet, turning it over to the side effects and squinting. He sighed irritably, unable to make out many letters without his damn glasses. He could only imagine that 'hallucinating a caped man in your room' wasn't quite so specific for them to list. Kyle considered getting up and following after him, hearing him mumbling and shuffling around in his kitchen and unable to help the smirk on his face. A costumed man was digging around in his freezer…

His face fell a bit, brain refreshed with sleep and able to properly latch on to a coherent thought at long last. What were they even supposed to do now? Was this it? Would it all just turn too awkward from here on out? His shoulders fell and he rubbed over his arms self-consciously, realizing with a start he was half-naked and waiting to be fucking coddled. The redhead rolled his eyes at himself. Wasn't like the other hadn't seen him completely naked… but still. Now it all seemed… different. Like Mysterion had said, the case was over. So where would they be able to go from here?

Kyle looked down, staring at the floor and lost in thought for a few minutes before his door creaked back open, Mysterion coming back into the room with a glass of soda tucked in his arm and a plate of food in his hand. "I'll get you a beer after you eat," he promised him. "No drinking on an empty stomach. And here's this since I'll assume you forgot to take it," he reached over and handed Kyle his bottle of insulin and a needle with his disposal kit.

The accountant watched him sit down beside him and bit his lip, looking down at his medicine shyly. "So… are you just always gonna wear the hood around me or what?"

He glanced over at him and cleared his throat. "I uh… I-I'm not…" he let out a long sigh and set the drink on the nightstand, turning to face him straight-on. "What do you remember? Did sleeping… change anything?" he winced.

"Ken, what the fuck are you talking about?" he raised his brow. "You really think I'd forget all the shit you put me through?" he reached up and flipped his hood back, watching frizzed blonde hair pop back out into place and shockingly bright blue eyes staring at him in awe. He cringed, "Sorry I kind of… threw your mask somewhere in the woods," he apologized quietly.

Kenny stared at him for a moment longer before breaking into a wide smile. "So… you remember. Like, completely?!" Kyle nodded slowly, letting out a soft sound as Kenny practically lunged forward and brought him into an elated hug, careful to not squeeze around his bruises too hard. "Fuck, I can't believe it," he whispered gleefully.

"You're one to talk," Kyle said, smirking at Kenny backing back up and staring at him like he'd just promised to buy him a puppy. He cleared his throat bashfully at the expression, turning down to his insulin and squinting as he tried to work out the needle markings, Ken noticing his struggle and staring at him pitiably.

"I got it," he offered, tearing off his gloves and swiping the medication, carefully uncapping and lining the needle against the bottle, pressing down into the soft covering and filling to Kyle's dosage line. He tongued over his lips, remembering years ago in high school Stan showing him just how to do this when Kyle hit a particularly high sugar level and couldn't stop shaking, unable to form coherent words and needing their help before he collapsed. Kyle watched him with a level of awe, moving to Kenny's dictation as the blonde lifted his arm, lining his needle up against his hip and pressing down, carefully injecting him before pulling back out and tossing the needle into his disposal case. "There. Now you won't die from fire or that," he grinned.

Kyle gulped nervously, reaching and taking a long sip of his soda before turning around and looking down at his food with a raised brow. "I had fuckin' Pizza Rolls?"

"You did," he confirmed.

"Holy shit, why have I been neglecting these," he snorted, popping one into his mouth and wincing.

Kenny frowned, "Come on, how did I fuck up goddamn microwaveable Pizza Rolls?"

Kyle waved him off, "You didn't, you didn't." He struggled to swallow them down and shook himself a bit. "Hurts to chew a little. Just wasn't expecting it."

"…Oh," he winced. Kyle smirked a little at his embarrassment, popping another between his lips and slowly letting himself chew into the morsel. He'd just conveniently 'forget' to tell Kenny that he'd only gotten them half unfrozen, but that mattered little. What mattered right now was getting himself back into a proper headspace. Kenny turned and sat cross-legged on the bed, watching him shoveling the treats down eagerly and leaning his chin down into his hand. "So. You feelin' okay?"

Kyle paused his chewing and shrugged sheepishly. "As well as I can be… Little fuzzy headed still and still a little… in shock from everything," he admitted. "What about you?"

"My biggest problem was a punch to the jaw," he said dryly.

The redhead cocked his brow, "And, you know, a shot through the head."

He shrugged, "I don't remember that shit, Ky. When I go, I forget the moment of. Or at least what it felt like. Which is nice. I'd hate to remember some of the shit I've went through." Kyle nodded slowly, shoulders sinking as he finished off the last of his dinner and he let out a sigh. He snagged his emptied plate and set it on his nightstand, Kenny cocking his head curiously at him. "What's wro-" he stopped as Kyle quickly moved forward and latched around his neck, pulling him in closely.

Kyle moved his face and burrowed into his throat, "Thank you," he whispered. Kenny raised his brow, wrapping around his waist. Kyle felt his confusion and gulped, "If you hadn't gotten there, I'd be on a plane right now," he said with a cracking voice. "So thank you."

Kenny's hand slid up his back into his hair, cradling his head protectively. "Hey, don't thank me," he murmured, kissing his arm lightly. "I'm just glad you're out of there." Kyle pressed his forehead down against his shoulder, both of them allowing themselves to linger in the moment as though nothing awful had transpired, as though everything had been laid out so perfectly for the both of them to be at this moment. It was the only thing that could appear to keep them from coming apart at the seams.

Kyle reluctantly pulled back and sat in front of him, allowing himself to let the reality finally sink in as he was free from making split-second decisions. Kenny noticed him working through the motions and he cringed. "This is… weird for you… isn't it?"

"Which part?" he asked.

"I mean obviously the dying thing most of all but also… It being me," he shrugged. "I'm sure I'm the last person you expected. Or were hoping for for that matter."

Kyle bit his lip and shrugged back, "I-I wasn't sure what to expect. And I had no hope for anyone in particular to be completely honest. But it is… a little weird. Though not in a… deal breaker kind of way," he worked out carefully.

The blonde stared at him in slight surprise. "Really?"

He let out a quiet huff of a laugh, "Ken, it's not like I fucking hate you or something. This was just… unprecedented."

Kenny smiled, "Yeah. On both our parts honestly. Never expected you to be the type to be all over fucking someone without seein' 'em first."

Kyle's soft grin fell at once. "Really, McCormick? You wanna goddamn go there right now? Because if you want, we can never do that again and pretend this whole thing never happened."

Blue eyes widened with despair. "Why would you say that I haven't gotten to see your face while doin' ya yet!"

The redhead narrowed his eyes at him slightly, "I haven't seen anything so do not even try to act like the victim here!" They both paused as his voice's echo faded out, staring at each other before softly they began to try to stifle their laughter and hide their twitching smiles. Soon enough they both broke, cracking up and leaning against one another, their cackling echoing around them as they tried to calm down, the mattress shaking beneath them bitterly.

Finally, after tears welled their eyes and they began to die down, Kyle pulled back slightly and hooked his fingers into Kenny's cowl. "So… can I ask you a question?" Kenny nodded him along, kissing his forehead and relishing in the content smile playing on his lips from the gesture. "If… we hadn't… ya know…"

"Fucked until you woke up your neighbors?" he guessed.

The redhead frowned, "Anyway. If we hadn't gotten together… what would you've done tonight?"

Kenny raised his brow, "Ky, I'm not followin' ya. I still would've checked on you if that's what you mean."

He shook his head. "No. No, I mean… would you have… told me who you are. Like, let's pretend that the whole Cartman thing didn't happen. In fact, that's a great idea regardless of this hypothetical, but I digress. If he hadn't blurted out who you are and we'd… gotten 'im the old fashioned way or whatever… Would you have told me?"

Kenny let a long breath seep through his nose, raising his hand and lightly stroking his thumb along Kyle's cheekbone. "If you would've asked… Yeah," he nodded. "You went through so much shit with all of this… You deserve every goddamn answer you want."

Kyle laughed softly, leaning his head against his touch. "Well… not all over yet," he reminded him, green eyes flickering up and meeting sympathetic blues with a sigh. "I gotta figure out what to do for a job… a-and… and eventually this is gonna have to go to trial… This is all gonna be a fucking chaotic mess."

He nodded softly, kissing his head again. "Well… Ya got me here if you need me," he promised quietly. "To talk it out or fuck out the frustrations, you know," he winked.

"Kenny, my nose is broken. Stop trying to get into my pants."

The blonde snorted, "I'm not. I promise. I'm just… really fucking happy you're okay... relatively speaking."

"Same to you," he agreed softly, hesitating for but a moment before timidly moving up and pressing their lips together, Kenny carefully twisting his head to avoid his nose as they held one another. Kyle's hand slid up into his disheveled hair, moving back down and cupping his chin. They both let out a soft sound as their tongues collided against one another's, relishing in the long-anticipated tender moment after the storm, letting the clouds fade off into the distance at long last.

They finally pulled apart from one another, waiting for one of them to speak before Kenny cleared his throat. "Weird?"

Long lashes fluttered as Kyle's brain tried to catch up to the rest of him. He let out a soft sigh, fingers curling along Kenny's face time and again. "Not nearly as weird as I thought it'd be," he admitted. "I'm more weirded out by how all I can think of is how purple is just not your color."

"Wow, be a little more queer, Kyle," Kenny teased, pecking his forehead.

"I'm about to be," he murmured, leaning his head down against his collarbone. "Are you going to work tomorrow?"

"I don't have to; I can call Bebe… why?"

"Can you stay?" he whispered.

Kenny's lips curled up into a grin, planting a hot kiss under his ear. "Of course I can," he responded warmly, burying his nose into his curls and continuing to peck at his ear. Kyle smiled at the treatment, head leaning a bit to let Kenny explore as he pleased.

He laughed, "I don't have to wear the fucking blindfold do I?"

Ken snorted, shaking his head, "Only if you want to." Kyle shook his head, kissing around Kenny's neck as the blonde peeled off his boots and socks, tossing them away from the bed and clasping him again. "Gonna need to borrow some pajamas," he murmured against his cheek.

Kyle smiled. "Nope. One or none. I'm not the one," he bit his ear lightly.

"So I get in trouble trying to get into your pants, but you can do so to me?"

Kyle backed up and cocked his brow, "You really gonna complain right now? If you wanna get up, fine, you know where they are."

Kenny pouted, tearing off his cape and tossing it aside. "You're very mean to me."

"Sooner you get used to that the better," he advised, leaning back and sighing happily as Kenny led him back down onto the bed, slowly slipping out of his uniform and struggling to work the fabric down along his legs as he continued planting soft kisses along Kyle's neck and collarbone. The redhead glanced down as he finally managed to rip off his uniform and throw it across the room, fingers lightly stroking along Kenny's chest, a lost expression shadowing over his face.

Kenny looked down at the battered form beneath him, cringing guiltily. "Ky. Ky look at me," he said, lightly tipping his chin upwards and getting him back in the moment. "You're bruised to shit. Are you sure you wanna do anything but sleep right now?"

Kyle bit his lip, Kenny nearly backing off of him all at once as tears welled in his eyes. "I thought you died," he croaked. "For good. A-and I'm still not convinced you're actually here… I-I just… I don't understand what's going on and just need… something."

Kenny slipped down beside of him, wrapping around him and pulling him lightly against his chest, stroking through his hair. "Hey, hey I don't really get it either," he whispered, kissing his hair. "But I'm here. I'm really here." The redhead's eyes slammed shut, barely feeling hot tears trailing down his swollen cheeks as he choked out confused sobs. He couldn't comprehend where this sudden flooding of emotion was coming from, whether it just being medication or reality finally beginning to take its toll on him. Kenny glanced down at him and took a deep breath, cooing him as he reached up and over him to switch off the lamp and nestle back down beside him. He snagged Kyle's thrown-off comforter and tossed it back over the both of them, letting Kyle nestle down against his chest miserably. "Shhhhh," he coaxed, petting through his hair and gulping. "I'm right here," he repeated. "And I'm gonna be right here when you wake up. And when I take you out for breakfast. And lunch. And we'll spend the day together just figuring this all out, okay?" Kyle took a shuddery breath, nodding against him and curling up in his hold. Kenny shifted to get their heads on pillows, continuing to lightly stroke over his tremoring form.

The blonde held onto him tightly, glancing past him at the moonlight spilling onto his discarded uniform and he sighed to himself, kissing Kyle's head. As far as he was concerned, at least for now, Mysterion's time with Kyle had come to a close. For right now, more than ever, the redhead needed Kenny; and Kenny was more than happy to give him whatever -or whoever- he needed.

A/N: Only the epi left!

Thanks for R&Ring!