Chapter 40

Johnny Cage felt as though his entire body was submerged in thick, suffocating fog. Every inch of him hurt—his head throbbed like a drumbeat, his chest felt like it had been shattered, and there was an all-encompassing ache that seemed to have burrowed into his bones.

The beeping was faint at first, distant and rhythmic, but it slowly grew louder, grounding him in the present. He let out a weak, hoarse groan as he tried to shift, only to feel a stabbing pain rip through his abdomen.

"Johnny?"

The voice was soft but desperate, cutting through the haze in his mind. It was familiar, warm, and filled with an edge of worry. Johnny wanted to answer, but his throat felt raw, and his lips were cracked and dry.

He tried to open his eyes, his eyelids heavy as if weighted down by lead. The first attempt failed; the world remained dark. The second attempt brought a sliver of light, but it was too bright, too overwhelming. He groaned again, his breath shallow.

"Johnny, it's me."

That voice—it belonged to Kenshi. The realization sent a jolt of warmth through him, though it was dulled by the relentless pain. Johnny forced himself to try again, his will stronger this time. His eyelids fluttered before finally lifting, revealing a blurry ceiling bathed in sterile, white light.

The room around him was quiet except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor beside him. Slowly, his gaze shifted to the source of the voice. Kenshi was sitting in a chair next to the hospital bed, his face pale and his body stiff. He looked as though he hadn't slept in days.

When Kenshi saw Johnny's eyes open, he leaned forward, his expression flooding with relief. "Johnny," he breathed, his voice trembling slightly.

Johnny tried to speak, but all that came out was a rough, croaking sound. Kenshi immediately reached for the bedside table, grabbing a cup of water with a straw. He carefully held it to Johnny's lips, helping him take a few small sips.

The water soothed the dryness in Johnny's throat, though it did little for the ache that seemed to radiate from his core. He managed to whisper, "Kenshi…"

Kenshi's lips twitched into a small, relieved smile, though his eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I'm here," he said softly. "You're okay. You made it."

Johnny blinked sluggishly, his mind struggling to catch up with the situation. He took in the sterile white walls of the hospital room, the machines surrounding him, the tubes attached to his body. Memories of what had happened began to trickle back—Haroshi, the fight, the helicopter, the bullet.

"Am I… still alive?" Johnny croaked, his lips dry and cracked.

Kenshi let out a shaky breath, his grip on Johnny's hand tightening. "Yes, you're alive. You made it."

Johnny managed a weak, lopsided smile, though the effort cost him. "Barely, huh?"

"You're stubborn," Kenshi said, his voice thick with emotion. "You always were."

Johnny chuckled softly, but it turned into a grimace as pain flared in his ribs. He coughed weakly, the motion making his chest ache even more. Kenshi's free hand moved to steady him, his touch gentle yet firm.

"Easy," Kenshi said softly. "You're hurt badly. Don't push yourself."

Johnny's lips twitched into a faint smile, though the effort was almost too much. "How long…?"

Kenshi hesitated, his voice trembling slightly. "A week. You've been unconscious for a week."

Johnny let out a weak exhale, closing his eyes briefly. "A week… feels like I got run over by a damn train." Johnny let his head fall back against the pillow, his energy already fading. "What… what happened?"

"You don't remember?" Kenshi asked, his voice hesitant.

Johnny furrowed his brow, the movement sending a sharp pain through his head. "Bits and pieces. The helicopter… Haroshi…" He trailed off, his voice failing him.

Kenshi's jaw tightened, and he nodded. "It's over. Haroshi is dead."

Johnny closed his eyes for a moment, relief washing over him despite the pain. "Good," he whispered.

Kenshi's lips pressed into a thin line, his grip on Johnny's hand tightening. "You saved me, Johnny. You saved me from Haroshi's control. You always save me."

Johnny's brow furrowed as he shook his head ever so slightly. "You're my everything, Kenshi. There's no way I'd ever let you go."

Kenshi's breath hitched, and his shoulders sagged as if carrying an unbearable weight. "This… this was all my fault."

Johnny frowned, his voice hoarse but firm. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Kenshi's eyes glistened with unshed tears as he looked down, ashamed. "It's my past, Johnny. It's because of my past that we've suffered so much. That you almost… I almost lost you twice."

Johnny weakly squeezed Kenshi's hand, his gaze unwavering despite his frailty. "Don't do this to yourself. None of this is your fault."

Kenshi shook his head, his voice breaking. "When Haroshi shot you in the head, Johnny… when I saw you collapse, I thought… I thought that was it. That I'd lost you forever."

Johnny closed his eyes, the memory of Haroshi's betrayal flickering briefly in his mind. "But you didn't. I'm still here, Kenshi."

Kenshi's voice grew more unsteady. "And then… when the paramedics were trying to bring you back, when they said you didn't have a pulse… Johnny, it broke me. I didn't know what to do. I thought I'd lost you for good."

Johnny could see the anguish in Kenshi's face, and it twisted his heart. He wished he had the strength to sit up, to wrap his arms around Kenshi and reassure him. Instead, he mustered what little energy he had to speak.

"Kenshi, listen to me. You didn't lose me. I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere."

Kenshi's hands trembled as he clutched Johnny's. "But I almost did, Johnny. Twice. I don't know how to calm down after everything. I don't know how to live with this fear."

Johnny's gaze softened, his voice tender despite his exhaustion. "You live with it by remembering that we're stronger together. We've been through hell, Kenshi. But we've always come out on the other side."

Kenshi's tears finally spilled over, and he lowered his head, his shoulders shaking. "I just can't bear to lose you, Johnny."

Johnny's lips curved into the faintest of smiles, and he whispered, "You won't. I'm too stubborn to die."

A choked laugh escaped Kenshi's lips, despite the tears streaming down his face. He gently rested his forehead against Johnny's hand, finding solace in his husband's unwavering spirit.

For a long moment, they stayed like that—Kenshi drawing strength from Johnny's presence, and Johnny silently vowing to fight through the pain for the man who meant everything to him.

Johnny's eyelids felt heavy, but he fought to keep them open. His body ached in ways he'd never experienced before, and the dull thrum of pain seemed to seep into every bone and muscle. He was utterly exhausted, yet his mind refused to let him rest.

He looked toward Kenshi, seated beside him, their hands still clasped together. Kenshi's eyes were red-rimmed, a mix of sleeplessness and the emotional toll of the past days. Johnny's heart ached to see the guilt and worry etched so deeply into his husband's face.

"I don't want to sleep," Johnny said softly, his voice hoarse.

Kenshi's gaze shifted to him, his expression softening. "Johnny, you need your rest. Don't worry—I'll be here when you wake up."

Johnny hesitated, his stubbornness warring with his exhaustion. Finally, he nodded, his lips curling into a faint smile. "Don't go anywhere, okay?"

Kenshi tightened his grip on Johnny's hand. "I'm not going anywhere."

Reassured, Johnny let his eyes drift closed, and the darkness claimed him once again.


The first thing Johnny Cage noticed when he woke up was the pain. It gnawed at him, raw and relentless, coursing through every inch of his battered body. He groaned softly, trying to shift but finding the effort almost unbearable. The beeping of the heart monitor was steady, a monotonous reminder that he was still alive, though it felt like just barely.

As his vision cleared, Johnny realized he wasn't in the same hospital room he had been in earlier. The sterile walls were a lighter shade, and the faint hum of medical equipment was different. He looked around slowly, careful not to jostle his injuries.

Pain rippled through his body like waves, unrelenting but familiar by now. Johnny took a slow, shallow breath, trying to get his bearings. He turned his head slightly, wincing at the sharp ache in his neck. That's when he saw him—Kenshi, asleep in the hospital bed next to his.

Kenshi looked pale and worn, his blindfold slightly askew as he lay motionless under the thin blanket. Even in his sleep, his brow furrowed as if the weight of everything they'd been through clung to him even in rest.

"Kenshi…" Johnny called weakly, his voice a raspy whisper.

There was no response. Kenshi didn't stir, his chest rising and falling steadily in the dim light. Johnny wanted to call out again but stopped himself. Kenshi deserved the rest after everything they'd endured.

Instead, Johnny shifted his gaze down at himself. His torso was heavily bandaged, the sharp pain in his side reminding him of the deep wound he'd suffered. His broken hand was immobilized in a cast, and his ribs screamed in protest every time he so much as moved. He knew there was more—internal injuries, the bullet lodged in his skull—but he didn't need a mirror to know he looked like hell.

A voice broke the quiet. "You're lucky, you know that?"

Johnny's head turned toward the doorway, where Jax stood with his arms crossed, his broad shoulders filling the frame. His expression was stern, but there was relief in his eyes.

"Jax," Johnny croaked, his voice hoarse.

Jax stepped into the room, shaking his head. "You're a damn fool, Cage. You and Kenshi both. You should be dead—hell, you would've been if things had gone even a little differently."

Johnny gave a weak chuckle, though it hurt like hell. "Yeah, well, I've always been good at beating the odds."

Jax wasn't amused. He leaned against the wall, his arms still crossed as he stared Johnny down. "Sneaking out of the safe house? Going after Haroshi without backup? What the hell were you thinking, Johnny?"

Johnny sighed, wincing as the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through his chest. "I was thinking about Kenshi. He needed me, Jax. What was I supposed to do? Sit around and wait while that bastard had him under his thumb?"

Jax's jaw tightened, and he pointed a finger at Johnny. "You almost got yourself killed. And Kenshi. You don't think about that, do you? That the both of you would've been dead if things hadn't gone your way?"

Johnny didn't argue. He was too weak, too drained. But he met Jax's gaze, his brown eyes unwavering. "I'd do it again," he said quietly but firmly.

Jax sighed, running a hand over his shaved head. "Yeah, I know you would. That's the problem with you, Cage. You don't know when to quit."

Johnny smirked faintly, though it lacked his usual bravado. "Quitting's not in my vocabulary, big guy."

Jax rolled his eyes, " By the way, the two Yakuza members who attacked you at your house have been detained, but the house is trashed. You're going to have to clean it up."

Johnny waved his hand, " That won't be a problem, Jax. Those bastards must have found out that I was still alive and tried to finish the job themselves. Too bad I pack a bigger punch."

Jax's stern expression softened just slightly. He stepped closer to the bed, his voice quieter now. "You're lucky to be alive, Johnny. Don't forget that. And don't make me have to pull your ass out of the fire again."

Johnny chuckled softly, though it ended in a wince. "I'll try to keep that in mind."

Jax glanced over at Kenshi, still asleep in the bed next to Johnny's. "How's he doing?"

Johnny's smile faded. He looked at Kenshi, his heart aching at the sight of him. "He blames himself. For all of it. Haroshi, the Yakuza, me getting hurt… everything."

Jax frowned, his gaze lingering on Kenshi. "That man's been through hell. You both have. But this isn't his fault, and it's not yours either."

Johnny sighed again, his voice soft. "Try telling him that. He won't believe it. He thinks his past is why all this happened, why I almost…" He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Jax nodded slowly. "Give him time, Cage. He'll come around. He's got you, and that's what matters."

Johnny glanced back at Kenshi, his expression tender. "Yeah… he's got me. And I've got him. That's all that matters."

Jax placed a reassuring hand on Johnny's shoulder, his grip firm but gentle. "Rest up, Cage. You're gonna need it."

Johnny watched as Jax left the room, his heavy footsteps fading down the hall. He turned his attention back to Kenshi, his heart swelling with gratitude and love for the man who had been through so much with him.

"We'll get through this, Kenshi," Johnny whispered, his voice barely audible. "We always do."

And for the first time in days, despite the pain and exhaustion, Johnny allowed himself to believe it.


Johnny stared blankly at the television, flipping aimlessly through the channels with the small remote in his hand. Static, game shows, a soap opera, the news—nothing held his interest for more than a second or two. His head throbbed, and his battered body protested every movement, but lying in silence wasn't an option.

The faint beeping of machines provided the only background noise until the door to the room creaked open. A nurse stepped inside, clipboard in hand, her presence as quiet and professional as always. She offered Johnny a polite smile as she approached.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Carlton. How are you feeling today?" she asked, her tone warm but clinical.

Johnny glanced at her, one eyebrow quirked at the use of his real name, but he didn't bother correcting her. "I've… been… better," he admitted, his voice carrying a hint of his usual dry humor. "But hey… at least I'm… still kicking, right?"

She chuckled softly, checking the IV attached to his arm and noting something on her clipboard. "That's a good attitude to have. Let's see how you're holding up."

She leaned in to check his vitals, her fingers cool against his wrist as she measured his pulse. Johnny winced slightly as she adjusted the blood pressure cuff on his arm, the pressure sending a dull ache radiating through his battered ribs.

"Everything looks stable," she said, scribbling on the clipboard. "How's the pain? Are the medications helping?"

Johnny shrugged lightly, though the movement tugged at the bandages around his chest. "They're… doing… their… job. Still hurts… like hell… but I'll… manage."

The nurse nodded sympathetically, then turned her attention to Kenshi. She moved to the bed next to Johnny's, her movements careful and deliberate as she checked Kenshi's vitals. Johnny watched her closely, his concern evident despite the playful mask he often wore.

"How's… he… doing?" Johnny asked, his voice softer now.

"He's stable," she replied, her tone reassuring. "His injuries are healing, but it's going to take time. He's been through a lot."

Johnny's lips pressed into a thin line as he nodded. He glanced at the peaceful expression on Kenshi's face, the man's chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. "When do you think we can get out of here?"

The nurse paused, straightening up as she regarded Johnny. "That'll be up to Dr. Erikson. He's keeping a close eye on both of you, considering the extent of your injuries."

"Think you can send him my way?" Johnny asked, his tone lighter now, though the seriousness of his request was clear. "I'd like to have a chat with him."

The nurse smiled at him, tucking the clipboard under her arm. "I'll see what I can do. He's a busy man, but in the meantime, Try to get some rest."

"Thanks… doc," Johnny said with a small grin, watching as she left the room.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving the room in silence once more. Johnny sighed, leaning back against the pillows, his hand absently rubbing his temple as a familiar, dull ache began to build. The headaches were becoming more frequent, a constant reminder of the bullet lodged in his skull.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes for a moment to will the pain away.

He turned his head slightly when he heard Kenshi stir from his slumber. Kenshi shifted in the bed next to him, wincing as he moved but offering Johnny a faint, tired smile once their eyes met.

"Hey," Kenshi said, his voice raspy from disuse. "You're awake."

Johnny smirked weakly. "Barely. Figured I'd hang out, you know, keep you company."

Kenshi let out a soft chuckle, though it clearly cost him some effort. "Guess I'm not in the ICU anymore," Johnny observed, his tone light but his brow furrowed in thought.

Kenshi nodded slowly. "No, you're not. Dr. Erikson said you were stable enough to be moved. I asked them to bring you here—to my room."

Johnny blinked, surprised. "You did that?"

Kenshi gave him a faint shrug. "I didn't want you alone. Besides, we've been through enough. I wanted us to be together."

Johnny's chest tightened at Kenshi's words. He swallowed hard, his voice soft as he replied, "Thanks, Kensh'. I mean it."

Kenshi smiled at him again, the corners of his lips twitching slightly. "Don't mention it. I figured you'd be insufferable if they stuck you in a room by yourself."

Johnny chuckled despite himself, the motion sending a jolt of pain through his chest. He winced, muttering, "Ow. Okay, don't make me laugh. It hurts too much."

Kenshi's smile widened just a fraction. "Sorry. Can't help it. You make it too easy."

For a brief moment, it felt almost normal between them, like they were back to their usual banter. But then the sharp, relentless pain in Johnny's head returned, stabbing through his temples like an unrelenting dagger. He groaned softly, pressing his hand to his forehead.

Kenshi immediately noticed. His smile faded, replaced by a look of concern. "Johnny? What's wrong?"

Johnny grimaced, his eyes scrunching shut. "Just… a headache. It's been happening since I woke up here."

Kenshi's worry deepened. "Since when?"

Johnny hesitated, reluctant to admit just how long he'd been dealing with the pain. "Since the first time I woke up in the hospital," he said finally, his voice quiet. "After Haroshi shot me."

Kenshi inhaled sharply, the weight of Johnny's words hitting him like a blow. He knew exactly what was causing Johnny's pain, and the thought made his stomach churn.

"You knew, didn't you?" Johnny asked, his voice steady but laced with an edge of suspicion.

Kenshi nodded reluctantly, his blindfolded eyes facing Johnny directly. "Dr. Erikson told me when you were still in the ICU. About the bullet."

Johnny fell silent, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, the only sound was the steady rhythm of the heart monitors. Then, finally, Johnny exhaled, his voice tinged with a mix of resignation and bitterness. "So, that's the verdict, huh? Can't take it out without killing me or paralyzing me."

Kenshi's heart ached at Johnny's tone. "Johnny…" he began, his voice filled with sympathy.

Johnny shook his head slightly, cutting him off. "It's fine. I've had worse odds before." He tried to sound nonchalant, but Kenshi could hear the strain beneath the bravado.

"It's not fine," Kenshi said firmly. "You shouldn't have to live with this—this constant pain."

Johnny gave him a wry smile. "Yeah, well, what's the alternative? I'm not exactly eager to try my luck on the operating table."

Kenshi sighed, his shoulders slumping. "You need to tell someone—Dr. Erikson, the nurses. They can help manage it. At least let them try."

Johnny looked at him, his brown eyes filled with exhaustion and something more profound—fear, maybe, or frustration. "What's the point? They can't fix it."

"But they can make it bearable," Kenshi insisted, his voice soft but resolute. "You don't have to suffer like this, Johnny. Please, just promise me you'll talk to them."

Johnny hesitated, his gaze flickering between Kenshi's face and the ceiling. Finally, he sighed and nodded, though he didn't look entirely convinced. "Alright, fine. I'll talk to them."

Kenshi reached out, his hand brushing against Johnny's arm. "Thank you."

Johnny didn't respond right away, his gaze distant. Then he smiled faintly, his voice quiet but sincere. "I'll do it for you, Kensh'. You're the only reason I'm still fighting."

Kenshi's grip tightened slightly, his voice thick with emotion. "And I'll keep fighting for you."

In the quiet of the hospital room, surrounded by beeping monitors and the lingering weight of their shared pain, they found a moment of understanding—a fragile but unyielding promise to face whatever came next together.

The door to the hospital room creaked open, and Dr. Erikson stepped inside, his white coat pristine and clipboard in hand. His expression was neutral, but his sharp eyes took in every detail of the room. Johnny Cage sat propped up in his hospital bed, clearly uncomfortable, a grimace etched onto his face. Beside him, Kenshi Takahashi rested in his own bed, looking noticeably pale but more alert than before.

Dr. Erikson offered a polite nod. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. How are we feeling today?"

Kenshi shifted slightly, his blindfolded head tilting toward the doctor. "Better," he replied, his voice quiet but steady.

Johnny, however, let out a weak groan. "Like hell," he muttered. "My head's killing me."

Dr. Erikson moved closer to Johnny's bed, his tone measured and calm. "That's to be expected, Mr. Carlton. With the bullet lodged where it is, it's putting pressure on surrounding tissue. That's causing the headaches, and unfortunately, you're going to be dealing with them for a while."

Johnny exhaled heavily, his frustration evident. "Great. Just what I needed." He shifted slightly, grimacing at the pain that radiated through his body. "So, when can we get out of here?"

Kenshi turned his head toward Johnny, as if silently agreeing with the question.

Dr. Erikson paused, his expression thoughtful. He glanced down at his clipboard before meeting their eyes. "I'll be honest with you. Kenshi, you're healing well. If your vitals remain stable and you continue to improve, I'd say you'll be ready to leave in a couple of days."

Johnny's face lit up slightly at the news, but Dr. Erikson wasn't finished. He turned to Johnny, his expression softening but still serious. "As for you, Mr. Carlton... it's a different story."

Johnny's slight smile faded, replaced by a frown. "How different?"

Dr. Erikson sighed. "Your injuries are severe, and while the paramedics did an incredible job stabilizing you, you're not out of the woods yet. The internal bleeding has stopped, but your ribs, lung, and abdomen are still in critical condition. And let's not forget the concussion and the bullet in your head."

Johnny leaned his head back against the pillows, closing his eyes briefly. "So what are you saying? Another day? Two?"

Dr. Erikson shook his head. "You're looking at another week here, minimum. We need to monitor you closely for any complications, especially with the bullet in your skull. If it shifts even slightly, it could cause irreversible damage. And I'm not willing to take that risk."

Johnny groaned, the frustration and helplessness evident in his voice. "A week? Doc, I can't sit here for a week. I've got stuff to do, people to—"

Kenshi's voice interrupted him, calm but firm. "Johnny."

Johnny turned his head to look at Kenshi, who was sitting up straighter now.

"You need to listen to him," Kenshi said softly. "We've been through too much for you to jeopardize your recovery now."

Johnny sighed, running a hand over his face. "Yeah, yeah. I get it."

Dr. Erikson gave a slight nod of approval. "Good. It's important you take this seriously. Rest is your best weapon right now."

Johnny muttered something under his breath, clearly unhappy but resigned.

The doctor turned to Kenshi. "As for you, I'll have the nurses run a few more tests, but if everything looks good, I'll authorize your discharge papers soon."

Kenshi inclined his head slightly. "Thank you, Doctor."

Dr. Erikson stepped back, glancing between the two of them. "I'll check in again tomorrow. In the meantime, try to rest. And Johnny?"

Johnny raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"No more trying to walk out of here before you're ready."

A faint smirk played on Johnny's lips, despite the pain he was in. "No promises, Doc."

Dr. Erikson shook his head with a faint smile of his own before leaving the room, closing the door softly behind him.

The room was quiet for a moment, save for the soft beeping of the monitors. Kenshi tilted his head toward Johnny. "A week isn't so bad."

Johnny gave him a look, his eyes tired but still full of their usual spark. "Easy for you to say. You're getting out of here before me."

Kenshi's lips curved into a faint smile. "Maybe. But I'll be waiting for you when you do."

Johnny sighed, leaning back against the pillows, his frustration giving way to something softer. "Yeah, well... you'd better be."