This morphed into more than it was meant to be, more on that at the end. For now, enjoy.

Ch. 3: Mario

Wake up.

A two-word whisper, spinning in my mind with the grace of a dancer. It speaks softly, stirring the thick cloud of unconsciousness. Wake up. Please, wake up. The words thin the darkness and I pull it back like a plush blanket.

You have to wake up now, it encourages, coaxing the covers out of my grip. Wake up, please!

It hurts to breathe. My head aches and my arm burns. I moan, making the haze retreat to the corners of my mind.

Please keep fighting…for me.

I feel her lips brush my ear, her breath against my skin and get chills. A warm tear slides from her face to mine, soaked up by my mustache. Her perfume's faint but I cling to it, breathing deeply despite a pain rising in my chest. I've always loved her scent, light and refreshing. It grows stronger and suddenly I hear a constant, rhythmic, monotone, beep, and feel how cold the world around me has become. My eyes manage to open, and the environment slowly sharpens.

Intensive care is rare for me, but I've been in here enough times to recognize the sliding glass doorways, extensive display of screens, and the feel of countless stickers on my skin. Toads in scrubs and white coats scurry down the hallway, silent behind a see-through wall.

Everything hurts, more than usual, even the prickle of a poorly placed needle in my arm has me heightened. My right arm radiates heat, nerves feeling as if they're still burning. My ribs shriek each time they must move and the skin above them gets painfully tight when my chest rises. My left leg has never felt heavier.

I want to call out, but then I see her.

She stares at her hands gripped tightly around one of mine, eyes red and accented with fatigue. In the faint light, water lines streak her cheeks. Her hair is pulled back in a poor attempt to hide grease, skin has never been paler, and her dress has ten too many wrinkles to be fresh.

All because of me.

I clench my held hand and she looks up, "Mario!" Her arms wrap around me before she can think, squeezing and making me cry out. She rips herself off like a bandaid, "I'm sorry! So, so, sorry!"

The door slides, "You're highness, what's going—?!" The nurse's jaw drops, locking eyes with me before pulling her head back to holler, "He's awake!" and summon the swarm.

Toads appear out of thin air and shove into the room. The stench of alcohol overwhelms with how many hands rub it between their fingers and over their palms.

They soon border the bed, slipping past Peach and sending her back. Some poke, some prod, one shines a light in my eyes, and all of them spout questions:

"Can you tell me your name?"

"Are you in any pain?"

"Do you know where you are right now?"

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Peach," I manage, trying and failing to find her. "P-Peach?"

"I'm here, Mario!" her voice travels from the back of the room. "I'm not going anywhere!" she assures, before one toad tugs on her skirt, talks, and her face falls. Peach shakes her head, pulling her hands away when the toad attempts to grab one. The princess steps back, tears in her eyes as another turns to her.

"Let her stay," I say, voice hoarse. "I said I want her to stay! Please!"

"It's better she isn't here for now," one of them states, glancing at a monitor. "She'll be back in a little while."

An older woman, silver hair poking out from under her mushroom top, leads the princess out. "Just be patient with us, honey," she says. "We'd like to know you're alright."

"I'm alright." They shut the door behind them and pull the curtain closed. "I'm alright!" I try to sit up and pain shoots through my chest and ribs, forcing me back down before anyone else tries to.

"Easy!"

"Careful!"

"You'll rip your stitches!"

A stray hand lands on my burned arm and I shout, rustling the wave of people but it's quick to crash on me. Tears slide over my temples and into my hair as workers reassemble. Dozens of faces obscure my view, lights that are too bright and voices that are too loud make my head ache more than it already is. I feel my heart pounding in my chest, sending a ripple of pain with each beat.

"One at a time," but I can't compete with their volume. "One at a time. Please..."

"LADIES AND GENTLEMAN!"

They all turn as the curtain's cast aside, and a toad in purple, with a face scarf and gold hoop earring parts the sea. He moves to the end of the bed, chastising the only way he knows how: "Is this egregiously unorganized? It is. Does this cause added stress to the patient? Obviously!" He stops, hands clenching the plastic frame as he scans to glare at everyone. "Does my staff know better than to act like this? I should hope so!"

The faces around me sink, eyes darting to the floor in shame.

Dr. Toadley huffs before directing his attention to me, "Will I apologize on their behalf? Without a doubt." He bows, then wraps his cloak tighter around himself as he turns. "Does Mario have unfinished business with her highness? He does." My face burns. "Will you all complete progress reports and evaluations in an efficient manner? You will! NO QUESTION!"

He shuffles out as his pet flies in –a white bird– and perches in the corner. "Don't let Birdley bring me bad news," he warns, before the curtains are thrown again and he's out of sight.

An awkward air hangs until the first nurse pipes up, "Sorry."

"Sorry, Mario."

"Apologies."

"The sincerest ones."

They organize rather quickly, a natural hierarchy of professionals. I meet doctors new and old; some merely talk while others examine, using the standard methods. They check temperature, heart rate, blood pressure, breathing. Conditions and summaries of procedures blend together and leak out of my head, porous to almost everything.

I'm made to raise my arms and legs. One toad tests my strength, placing pressure on my limbs to see if they'll buckle. I manage to sit up, scoot to the edge, stand, and take some steps, but with far more assistance than I care to admit. Getting beaten to a pulp and lying in bed for awhile will do that to you.

When all's said and done my eyes long to close, and I feel myself sinking deeper into the pillows when nurses place a warm blanket over me and tuck it in.

"The princess…" I mumble.

"She's here, hon," one of them says as the world fades away. "She'll be here the moment you wake up."

oOo

When my eyes open they spot green instead of pink. A great color of course, just not the one I was promised.

"Bro," Luigi says, squeezing my shoulder. Bags add color to his face. He smiles briefly, tears forming, "How ya feeling?"

I blink the sleep away and lift my good arm to rest a hand on top of his. "Same as always," I respond, pain blooming as I speak.

He pulls away, sitting back and clenching the sides of his seat. Water spills down his cheeks as he repeats, "Same as always?"

"Well—"

"What were you thinking, Mario?"

I swallow, unfazed by the foul taste of my mouth when I'm staring into his eyes, "I was…thinking I needed to save the princess. Is she still—?"

"Alone, when your metaphorical wound is still healing?"

"Come on, Weegee."

"Don't 'Come on, Weegee' me!" he cries, raising his voice despite the mere few inches of glass separating us from the hallway. "You almost died."

"I almost die all the time," I brush.

He shakes his head again. "Do you even know what happened?"

Pain, rage in Bowser's eyes that I'd never seen before. Blood, broken bones. Struggling to breathe until a swift fist to the face knocked me out. And after that…

"He let you go," Luigi reveals. "Both of you."

"What? Why?" Words have never left my mouth quicker.

"I don't know, the princess wouldn't say. Whatever the reason, it brought my brother back to me."

My heart begins to race again, and I feel a cold sweat creeping up, "What if he made her marry him, or hand over the kingdom, or—!"

"Who cares Mario!" he snaps, face flaring. I've never heard his voice get so sharp. "You almost died! Really almost died, and you're treating it like it's no big deal!" He shakes open hands, eyes wide and watery.

The door slides, "Is everything—?"

"We're fine," my brother cuts without looking. "Sorry."

A new nurse lingers in the doorway, crumpling the bottom of her shirt. Her eyes flick in my direction only briefly, focused on the stiff posture of my sibling. "You're due for your medication soon, Mario," she informs quietly. "I'll be back in a bit, alright?"

Part of me doesn't want her to leave, but I nod and set her loose as my brother wipes his eyes with the back of his gloves. He sniffles and leans forward in his seat, fingers laced. "Tell me. Honestly," he murmurs. "What were you thinking?"

I look down, watching my hands gather fistfuls of now cold blankets.

"Were you trying to get hurt?"

I clench harder.

"Did you want him to kill you?"

Any harder and my hands will shake.

"Mario."

I exhale held air slowly, but pain still finds a means of firing. My fingers loosen but I make no effort to smooth the wrinkled folds of fabric that remain. Tears want to pool in my eyes and I can do nothing to stop them, "You said getting over her would take time." I can still feel his arms around me, hear him speaking the words with his chin resting on my shoulder. My hair was dirty that day, I hadn't showered in weeks, but he still mustered up the brotherly love for a hug.

"It's been so long…" I look at him but his image is blurry. "And I still can't get her out of my mind."

His frown is as deep as when he first found me wallowing. It was sunny, a perfect afternoon for a race, but I was content with sitting in the dark, crying over an 8 by 10. "You just…have to give it more time, bro." So careful with his words compared to mere minutes ago. "Remember with Pauline—"

"This is nothing like Pauline," I emphasize, wiping fallen drops before they can slide down my face. "Pauline was someone. Peach is the one." I bite the inside of my cheek as countless memories materialize in a bittersweet picture show. Closing my eyes only makes it worse. "Yet she doesn't feel the same," I murmur, voice hollow.

The only other sound in the room is the constant chime indicating a beating –albeit broken— heart. My eyes are somehow glazed amidst the waterworks as I continue, "I respect her, and love her too much to sever what we have. But going through the motions, suppressing how I really feel is…it's…" When more tears brim I let them fall, shaking my head. "I didn't go off and save her with the intention of dying." I hesitate, lowering my voice to barely above a whisper, "But once she was out and on her way home, I wasn't opposed to it."

My little brother's voice breaks, "Mario."

"I'm sorry, Luigi," I breathe, staring at my hands. "I don't—" know what else to do. "I can't—" do this.

He grabs my arm, gripping it tighter than I think he realizes. Despite the gloves, I feel nails digging into my skin. "We'll figure this out. Together," he assures, eyes so alive his tears almost evaporate. "I'm not losing my big bro."

He hugs me again (as best he can). His arms graze my torso, pressing my seafoam spotted gown lightly against my body. "You can get through this. I'll help you. We can do it. We will do it. I promise."

I wanted to believe his words before, and I want to believe them now.

The nurse returns soon after, plastic cup of pills in one hand, and a wash basin of supplies in the other. She sets them on my tray table, "The princess is back, and would like to see you." She gestures to the items: towels of various sizes, travel-size bar soap and shampoo, a plastic razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, clean socks, a fresh gown, and disposable underwear. "I'm happy to help you freshen up."

Luigi and I look at one another. His face holds a hint of worry, but he stands after a moment, murmuring, "I'll be outside if you need me."

oOo

The razor was a nice thought but with how thick my hair is a single-blade would be beyond tedious, so I opt for a bar of soap to the face instead. I scrub gingerly, mindful of trace bruising. Many black and blues have turned yellow at this point, but this doesn't make them any less painful. Working around tubes and wires proves a challenge, but Toadelle (the nurse) removes and reconnects as we work our way around. I do what I can but find myself tiring, and wiping the same —now sweaty— spot over again, until I'm convinced to let a stranger take over.

When all's said and done I'm not shower clean but far better than I once was. Water drips from my hair as I comb it, spotting the sheets. I run my hands across my head to dishevel the slick-back style, feeling how long the strands have become in my leave.

Soiled linens are tossed in a bag as I place what tools can be reused in the now dry basin and push it out of sight. As I scoot back into bed, Toadelle ties a knot in the laundry bag and drops it in a hamper. Sweat sparkles her face before it's sopped away with her shirt sleeve.

"We'll change your sheets later," she says with a tired smile, stripping her gloves with ease. "I'll be back after, alright?"

I nod, "Thank you so much."

She blushes, the shade of pink matching the spots on her head, "Anytime!"

Alone but not for long, my heartbeat quickens. I watch as well as feel it rise, seeing the number on the monitor climb.

The door slides and the curtains move, "Mario?"

Hair and dress clean, face washed, eyes still tired, but beautiful as always, "Hi, princess."

"You look better," she comments softly. "A bit."

"You, too."

"Toadsworth's orders," she imparts, brushing hair behind her ear, "But I came back as soon as I could." She brushes more hair back, glancing at the chair next to me. "Can I—?"

"Of course."

She smooths the back of her dress before sitting, pulling the seat so close that the arm of it presses into the mattress. Her hand rests on the bed, fingers stretched and almost grazing my own.

She whimpers, "I'm so sorry, Mario," looking at me as she does so. Liquid leaks down her cheeks but she pays no mind. "This is all my fault."

"Princess..." I lift my hand to wipe her sudden tears but she guides it back down.

"You almost died because of me."

"Risk of death is part of the job," I assure her. "It's nothing you need to apologize for."

"Of course it is!"

"You're okay. That's all that matters," I emphasize, despite the ache in my chest.

"It is not!" she scolds, grabbing my hand. "Your life matters just as much as mine does! More than mine, even."

"Peach. Stop," I say. "What happened, happened, you can't change it. There's no reason to get upset."

More tears swell in her eyes as she looks away, letting her hands slip and fall in her lap. Droplets freefall when she blinks, splashing silk gloves. "There is a reason when you know what happened shouldn't have happened in the first place."

My mouth tightens, waiting for her to say more but she doesn't, "What are you talking about?"

She exhales, lifting her head as she does so: Eyes closed, lips thin. I've seen her do this prior to speeches or meetings with the council, but it was always a quick one-two. In, out, go. This time, she hesitates, holding for what feels like an eternity before opening herself up again.

"Did you know Bowser let us go?" she asks, continuing to let her tears fall uninterrupted. "I left like you said but turned back when you didn't follow, and found you bloody, unconscious, and on the brink of being burned to death."

Guilt boils inside at the thought of her seeing me like that, "Oh."

"I intervened and Bowser misfired."

"Princess!"

She presses my lips closed with her fingers. Her eyes are more crestfallen, more wet than I've ever seen. "I offered to stay in exchange for your safety." My face falls. "He seemed thrilled with the idea at first but ended up throwing us both out."

What?

"He summoned his clown copter, put us in it, and sent us home," she voices. "Because—. Because—."

Her breath hitches, raising her shoulders and filling her lungs by force. Broken bones, bruises, and burns be damned, I want to cradle her. Wipe her tears away, brush my hands through her hair as her breathing settles and she falls asleep in my arms. Instead, I reach for a tissue. She twists her wrist and grabs my hand out of thin air. Her ring indents my skin as she squeezes, a piton keeping her in place.

I swallow, attempting to finish her thought, "He realized that if he really loved you, he had to let you go."

She nods once, twice before shaking her head and collapsing onto the bed. She sobs into crossed arms, back arching each time she breathes. I lean forward despite my body's pleas and guide her back to me. She resists at first but soon rises until we're face to face. Redness in her eyes is beyond visible. She gasps softly, rivulets still spilling.

"Princess," I whisper.

She makes a point not to meet my gaze, "It took you nearly dying—" She hiccups. "For Bowser and I to face the fact that I can't live without you." I freeze. "Which is fine for him, understandable even, but for me? It's—"

"What did you say?"

Water swells in my own eyes, mouth hanging open from my last spoken syllable. She looks at me now, "I said I can't live without you."

"Meaning?" I manage, as my mind sifts through every possible interpretation of her sentence.

"I'm in love with you."

Euphoria crashes like a wave after a trek through Kalimari. It's heavenly relief I could only hope for until now.

Peach continues to self-berate, "I should have told you sooner. I never should have let it get this far. The flower in my face was frustrating and the impulse proposal was brash but—"

I kiss her, more than happy to taste tears and drivel. She inhales sharply but her hands soon find their way to my upper chest, fingers molding to my shoulders. I bring my own hand to her face, cupping her cheek and sliding my thumb to wipe away water.

She pulls back but still clings to me. "I hurt you," she weeps. "I hurt you terribly."

"I don't care," I reply, clearing her tears again.

"But—"

"No 'buts,'" I whisper, pressure reaching its height behind my eyes. "You're all I've ever wanted."

Her voice breaks, "Mario."

"I love you," I say, leaning in when she does.

Tears escape when my eyes close a second time. A wire catches as we move closer, and the feeling of a needle being pulled shoots through my arm. Pain. Glorious pain. Grounding me in reality.

Mario is a results over process kind of guy. It doesn't matter how he and Peach came together, as long as it happened.

The focal point of this story was meant to be Peach and Bowser's portions, with Mario's being more fan service but it turned into much more (I shouldn't be surprised, he is my favorite). I truly only meant for a quick confession of feelings and kiss, but I just had to make things more complex.

Luigi wasn't originally going to make an appearance, but I realized that given the circumstances, it wouldn't make sense for him not to be included. I do love him here: the aggressive but concerned brother when he's normally awkward. He cares about Mario that much.

I'd like to point out that the small flashback of Mario 'crying over an 8 by 10 [aka photograph]' was inspired by artwork I saw on Twitter. Unfortunately I couldn't relocate the art/artist but regardless, I'd like to give them credit.

All the hospital info is based on personal employment experience. I did NOT realize how many details were at my disposal until I started writing. The process was awesome.

Any other questions I'm more than happy to answer. I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Have a great one!

References:

- Peach's wish magic (from Bower's Inside Story and I believe Dream Team) is what's waking Mario up in the opening scene

- Dr. Toadley (and his pet Birdley) also come from Inside story. He's an odd one for sure, communicating by answering his own questions. Fun to mess around with though, and I feel he served his purpose here

- Racing refers to Mario Kart (duh); Kalimari refers to the desert course from Mario Kart 64

- 'Flower in the face' and 'Impulse proposal' is from none other than Odyssey