Strachey Mysteries Fic - Barely Breathing
Title: Barely Breathing
Author: kaly
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2425
Characters/Pairing: Donald/Timothy, Kelly
Category: angst, movieverse
Warnings: character death
Spoilers: Ice Blues... sorta?
Summary: The world he woke to wasn't the one he had known before.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing, no money earned.
Note: Very loose sequel to another story of mine, Planning Ahead
Blame geminigrl11. She's the one that was all shocked and bothered I'd not written one of these yet. (Admittedly, given my track record in other fandoms...) Either way, it's all her fault. That said, *please* heed the warning...
And yet, also thank you to geminigrl11 for the beta.
Waking slowly, Timothy's eyes were heavy, so much so he couldn't seem to open them. Scrunching his forehead, Tim tilted his head to the left, eyes still closed. He couldn't figure out what the annoying beeping was that seemed to be everywhere at once. Whatever it was, it was splitting his aching head.
"Timmy?"
He realized there was a hand holding his, and Tim tried again to open his eyes. Several frustrating seconds later, he finally succeeded. Squinting - he really was half-blind without his glasses - Timothy was surprised to find Kelly sitting beside him.
Opening his mouth to speak, Timothy frowned when nothing would come out. He was further deterred by Kelly shaking her head. "Don't try to talk. The doctor's on her way."
Doctor?
Even more confused, Timothy turned his head to look around the room as best he could. Stark white sheets covered him, and a heart monitor stood beside the bed - the source of the infernal beeping identified. Timothy wracked his brain, trying to remember what would have led him to be in the hospital, but drew a blank.
He had just turned his attention back to Kelly, hoping she knew what was going on, when the door was pushed open. Hoping for Donald - where was he, anyway? - Tim looked at his visitor, disappointed to find a petite woman in a lab coat.
"Nice of you to join us. I'm Doctor Kennedy," she said, picking up his chart from the foot of the bed. The doctor skimmed the notes, before carefully examining the machines and adding another notation and replacing the clipboard.
Standing beside him, Kennedy took his wrist in her hand, looking at her watch for several seconds. Done, she replaced his arm on the bed and looked closely at his face. "How are you feeling?"
'Confused' was the first though that came to mind, and Timothy looked back and forth between the two women on either side of him. Turning his attention back to the doctor, Timothy shook his head, just barely. Thankfully, the doctor took pity on him, and spooned a couple of ice chips into his mouth.
Timothy licked at the water eagerly, relishing the moisture that slowly seeped into his throat. Finally feeling as though his tongue wasn't sticking to the roof of his mouth, Timothy swallowed greedily.
"Better?"
"Yes," Timothy rasped, nodding only to regret it immediately. He winced, raising a hand to his head. "Ooh."
Kennedy nodded, giving him a sympathetic look. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. You took a nasty hit to the head. Can you tell me your name?"
Timothy only wished he didn't know this drill; however, being married to Donald had ensured he was intimately familiar with it. "Tim Callahan."
"And the president?"
Only the fact he knew it would hurt kept Tim from rolling his eyes. Always with the same questions; couldn't they ever manage some originality? "Barack Obama."
"Good, good," Kennedy said, nodding. "Just to complete the set, can you tell me the year?"
"2011." Frustrated, Timothy looked over at Kelly, pleading. "Why am I here?"
Pulling a miniature flashlight from her pocket, the doctor waved a hand to regain Timothy's attention. "Look at me please." With no further warning, she pulled back his eyelid and shined the light inside. Timothy flinched, the pain in his head spiking unbearably. He tried to turn away, but she followed him, repeating the process on his other eye.
"Not perfect, but better." Returning the flashlight to her pocket, the doctor stood back and crossed her arms over her chest. "Seeing double?"
Timothy shook his head without thinking. Covering his mouth with his hand, Timothy felt the blood rush out of his face as his stomach rolled. "I don't feel so..." Luckily the doctor was quick, and shoved an emesis basin under his chin just in time.
When he was done, she disappeared into the bathroom briefly, but Tim paid her little mind. Groaning, he fell back against the bed, breathing shallowly. "Oh, God."
"Feel better?" Kelly asked quietly.
"Not really," Tim complained, clenching his eyes shut as tightly as he could manage. "I only thought my head hurt before."
Kelly squeezed his hand comfortingly. "I'm sorry."
Timothy wanted to shake his head, to reassure her he was okay, but thought better of the idea. Instead, he squeezed her hand with what little strength he could manage. "Thanks."
"Okay, then," Kennedy said, returning to the room without the basin. "I'll order an antiemetic. That should help with the nausea." As she spoke, the doctor scribbled a note on Tim's chart. "Everything looks about as should be expected, though the length of time you were unconscious is concerning."
Still curious as to what had happened, not forgetting his earlier query hadn't been answered, Timothy blinked slowly. "How long?"
"Eighteen hours. You gave us a bit of a scare, until you started to come around some a few hours ago."
Tim tried to remember, but the memories were still annoying absent. The last he remembered was eating breakfast with Donald that morning. Possibly yesterday morning, from the sound of things.
"I'll go speak to the nurse," Kennedy said, shaking Timothy from his thoughts. She nodded and left without another word.
For a moment, Timothy lay there, staring at the empty doorway. His sluggish brain finally catching up, he turned his attention back to his sister. Finally, he asked the question he most wanted answered, even more than what in the hell had happened to him.
"Where's Donald? He's always here when I wake up." Tim paused, eyes widening in fear as the obvious struck home. "Was he hurt, too?"
Kelly swallowed nervously, looking away from Timothy, and he felt a spike of fear. Something had happened. "Kel?"
"Timmy..." She took a deep breath, seeming to steel herself. "You asked why you're here..." she began, and Timothy didn't miss the fact she had changed the subject. "You fell and hit your head. Scared the shit out of Detective Bailey, that's for sure. He told me all about it when he called. Loudly." She winced, shaking her head.
Confusion growing and feeding his fear, Timothy clutched a hand over his stomach. "Bub? Why?"
Chewing on her lip, Kelly shook her head, blinking quickly. "He had come to tell you about..."
"Kelly?" Tim asked, unable to blink, barely able to breathe. Not good, not good, not good playing in his mind on an endless loop. "Where's Donald?"
Refusing to look at Timothy, Kelly pulled her hand free and stood. She paced back and forth once, wringing her hands. Turning, she looked at Tim, tears in her eyes. "He's..." Taking a stuttering breath, Kelly collapsed back into her chair and grabbed Timothy's hand in both of hers. Her voice broke. "He's gone. That's why Bub was there. To tell you."
Memory slammed into place, physically painful, and Tim gasped loudly. Bub Bailey showing up at his office, somber and stuttering. Timothy had stood, perplexed by the visit, but pleased to see the other man all the same. But then Bailey had spoken, and Timothy's vision had faded, the sensation of falling and then... nothing.
Eyes burning, teeth grinding, Timothy shook his head roughly. His chest felt hollow, a vise pressing in from all sides. Forcing himself to breathe, if only just, he clutched at Kelly's hand until his fingers hurt.
"Shot?" he choked out, barely able to force the word from his throat.
Tears spilled from Kelly's eyes and she nodded. Leaning forward suddenly, she wrapped her arms around Timothy. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry."
"No!" Tim yelled, pulling away from his sister's embrace. He shook his head roughly, short, sharp jerks that sent his stomach reeling. Ignoring the nausea - Donald was more important, damn it - Timothy pushed Kelly away. "No, you have to go check on him for me."
Changing his mind, Timothy started pulling at the covers and the wires. "Never mind..." Managing to sit up straight, he clenched his teeth, pushing back the urge to vomit by sheer will. Panting, he said, "I'll call him. You'll see. He's fine." Remembering Bailey's face, knowing he was rambling but unable to stop, Timothy amended, "Maybe not fine. But he's here somewhere. I know it. He's probably wondering where I am."
He looked up, surprised to find Kelly was standing in front of him all of a sudden. She sobbed brokenly, wrapping her arms around Tim's shoulders. Pressing her face to Tim's cheek, she whispered brokenly, "Please stop."
Timothy froze, breathing so quickly he was nearly hyperventilating. "He's probably worried. He needs to know I'm okay."
"Tim..." Kelly continued to sob, pulling back just far enough she could look at Tim, shaking her head. "Just stop. Detective Bailey said..."
Shaking his head, Timothy swallowed back bile. "No."
Climbing onto the bed, Kelly wrapped her arms back around Timothy and pulled his head onto her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Timmy. Oh my God, you have no idea how sorry I am."
"Kelly..." Timothy's voice broke, and he began trembling. "What if..."
She shook her head, rocking them both back and forth gently. Rubbing a hand up and down Tim's arm, she sniffled. "He's gone, Timmy."
Denial surged within Timothy at the words, and he clenched his jaw, staring off into space. "It's not possible," he whispered, a clawing, all-consuming pain building in his chest.
"He was shot," Kelly said, clinically, her voice at the end of a long tunnel, off in the distance. "Apparently, the lady that hired him was in a bad marriage. Her husband was hurting her."
Timothy stared at the wall, not wanting to listen. He refused to blink, refused to let the tears fall, for he knew if they did, if he accepted, they wouldn't stop. Kelly's words, however, continued unabated. "Donald caught him doing it, and tried to stop him."
Timothy tried to breathe, only to sob, clenching his eyes shut and trying to shut out the words. If he didn't listen, if he refused to hear, they wouldn't be true. He would wake up again, with no monitors and no doctors and Donald would be next to him in their bed, smiling sleepily.
That was it - he just had to wake up.
He pinched himself, silly superstition but he didn't care, only to feel a small hand cover his own. "You're awake," Kelly whispered, and distantly he heard the ache in her voice. "I wish you weren't, Timmy."
"It's not... It can't..." Timothy wheezed, digging his finger nails into his palms until he felt blood. Staring at his sister, he searched her face with wild eyes. "You're wrong! You have to be wrong."
"He saved her, Tim." Kelly grasped Tim's cheeks in her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. "His client, he saved her life. Her husband... He shot him, but Donald stopped him. The bastard won't hurt anyone else ever again."
Timothy felt lightheaded and swallowed convulsively. "I can't... He's not..." He growled, stopping just shy of a scream. Spots danced in his vision and he pulled away from Kelly roughly. "I don't care! I don't care about them!"
"I know," Kelly whispered, nodding. "But one day you will. He was a hero."
Laughing hysterically, Timothy pulled away to the head of the bed. Pulling his knees to his chest, Tim wrapped his arms around them and began rocking back and forth. Nausea was his constant companion, the earlier throb behind his right eye was blinding. And they were nothing compared to his heart.
"You think I don't know that?" His voice broke, fading into a whisper. "I don't need some sadistic bastard to show me that."
He struggled to breathe, feeling first one, then several tears break free and burn his cheeks. "Kel..." Shaking, Timothy scrubbed a hand over his face, forcing himself back under control, however tenuously. Unable to think, reality fading, Timothy shook his head and repeated, "It's not possible. It's not."
Kelly didn't speak, she just stared at him, tears streaking down her face. She reached out her hand, but let it fall to the covers between them.
"It's not possible," he continued repeating. Off in the distance, he could hear the monitor beeping faster and faster, shrieking its own denial. "It's not."
If he repeated it enough, denied it enough...
Gasping, Timothy shuddered. He choked, a sob bursting out of his chest, convulsing through his entire body. "Oh, God..." Pain tore through him, burning away the emptiness of denial. "He's gone..."
His sister rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him once more, and he buried his head against her shoulder. Trembling, gasping for air, feeling as though he was breathing broken glass, Timothy choked out, "What am I supposed to do now?"
"I don't know. I wish I did." Vaguely, he felt Kelly shake her head, but couldn't process it. "I'm here."
Clutching onto his sister as tightly as he dared, another tear breaking free, Timothy gasped for air. "I need Donald here."
"I know."
Somewhere far away, he heard a voice he didn't recognize say, "What in the...? Nancy! Page Doctor Kennedy!" Timothy ignored it, it didn't matter.
Emptiness filled him, dread burning his throat. "When he left... I can't remember..." Timothy hiccupped, bordering on hysterical, lost to the overwhelming emotions. "I can't remember if I told him I loved him. What if I didn't tell him I... I always tell him, but I was late, and in a hurry and... Oh, God. What if I didn't tell him?"
"He knew." Numbly he felt Kelly squeeze him harder and pet his hair, both of them trembling. "Oh, God, Timmy, out of everything, he knew that most of all. Every minute of every day, he knew you loved him, just as much as he loved you. Please believe that."
Vision dimming, Timothy clenched his eyes shut, tears burning their way out unabated. His chest cinched, breathing nearly impossible for the sobs that tore violently through him. A dam burst, rage pouring its way out of Timothy and soaking the room with its pain. He was numb except for the white hot pain where his heart used to be.
"I've got you," Timothy heard his sister whisper, somewhere off in the distance. "I made a promise - to him and to myself. I'm not you letting go."
He couldn't find the words, the breath, to question what promise, or more importantly to tell her that it didn't matter. The only thing that did matter was already gone.
end
Author: kaly
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2425
Characters/Pairing: Donald/Timothy, Kelly
Category: angst, movieverse
Warnings: character death
Spoilers: Ice Blues... sorta?
Summary: The world he woke to wasn't the one he had known before.
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing, no money earned.
Note: Very loose sequel to another story of mine, Planning Ahead
Blame geminigrl11. She's the one that was all shocked and bothered I'd not written one of these yet. (Admittedly, given my track record in other fandoms...) Either way, it's all her fault. That said, *please* heed the warning...
And yet, also thank you to geminigrl11 for the beta.
Waking slowly, Timothy's eyes were heavy, so much so he couldn't seem to open them. Scrunching his forehead, Tim tilted his head to the left, eyes still closed. He couldn't figure out what the annoying beeping was that seemed to be everywhere at once. Whatever it was, it was splitting his aching head.
"Timmy?"
He realized there was a hand holding his, and Tim tried again to open his eyes. Several frustrating seconds later, he finally succeeded. Squinting - he really was half-blind without his glasses - Timothy was surprised to find Kelly sitting beside him.
Opening his mouth to speak, Timothy frowned when nothing would come out. He was further deterred by Kelly shaking her head. "Don't try to talk. The doctor's on her way."
Doctor?
Even more confused, Timothy turned his head to look around the room as best he could. Stark white sheets covered him, and a heart monitor stood beside the bed - the source of the infernal beeping identified. Timothy wracked his brain, trying to remember what would have led him to be in the hospital, but drew a blank.
He had just turned his attention back to Kelly, hoping she knew what was going on, when the door was pushed open. Hoping for Donald - where was he, anyway? - Tim looked at his visitor, disappointed to find a petite woman in a lab coat.
"Nice of you to join us. I'm Doctor Kennedy," she said, picking up his chart from the foot of the bed. The doctor skimmed the notes, before carefully examining the machines and adding another notation and replacing the clipboard.
Standing beside him, Kennedy took his wrist in her hand, looking at her watch for several seconds. Done, she replaced his arm on the bed and looked closely at his face. "How are you feeling?"
'Confused' was the first though that came to mind, and Timothy looked back and forth between the two women on either side of him. Turning his attention back to the doctor, Timothy shook his head, just barely. Thankfully, the doctor took pity on him, and spooned a couple of ice chips into his mouth.
Timothy licked at the water eagerly, relishing the moisture that slowly seeped into his throat. Finally feeling as though his tongue wasn't sticking to the roof of his mouth, Timothy swallowed greedily.
"Better?"
"Yes," Timothy rasped, nodding only to regret it immediately. He winced, raising a hand to his head. "Ooh."
Kennedy nodded, giving him a sympathetic look. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. You took a nasty hit to the head. Can you tell me your name?"
Timothy only wished he didn't know this drill; however, being married to Donald had ensured he was intimately familiar with it. "Tim Callahan."
"And the president?"
Only the fact he knew it would hurt kept Tim from rolling his eyes. Always with the same questions; couldn't they ever manage some originality? "Barack Obama."
"Good, good," Kennedy said, nodding. "Just to complete the set, can you tell me the year?"
"2011." Frustrated, Timothy looked over at Kelly, pleading. "Why am I here?"
Pulling a miniature flashlight from her pocket, the doctor waved a hand to regain Timothy's attention. "Look at me please." With no further warning, she pulled back his eyelid and shined the light inside. Timothy flinched, the pain in his head spiking unbearably. He tried to turn away, but she followed him, repeating the process on his other eye.
"Not perfect, but better." Returning the flashlight to her pocket, the doctor stood back and crossed her arms over her chest. "Seeing double?"
Timothy shook his head without thinking. Covering his mouth with his hand, Timothy felt the blood rush out of his face as his stomach rolled. "I don't feel so..." Luckily the doctor was quick, and shoved an emesis basin under his chin just in time.
When he was done, she disappeared into the bathroom briefly, but Tim paid her little mind. Groaning, he fell back against the bed, breathing shallowly. "Oh, God."
"Feel better?" Kelly asked quietly.
"Not really," Tim complained, clenching his eyes shut as tightly as he could manage. "I only thought my head hurt before."
Kelly squeezed his hand comfortingly. "I'm sorry."
Timothy wanted to shake his head, to reassure her he was okay, but thought better of the idea. Instead, he squeezed her hand with what little strength he could manage. "Thanks."
"Okay, then," Kennedy said, returning to the room without the basin. "I'll order an antiemetic. That should help with the nausea." As she spoke, the doctor scribbled a note on Tim's chart. "Everything looks about as should be expected, though the length of time you were unconscious is concerning."
Still curious as to what had happened, not forgetting his earlier query hadn't been answered, Timothy blinked slowly. "How long?"
"Eighteen hours. You gave us a bit of a scare, until you started to come around some a few hours ago."
Tim tried to remember, but the memories were still annoying absent. The last he remembered was eating breakfast with Donald that morning. Possibly yesterday morning, from the sound of things.
"I'll go speak to the nurse," Kennedy said, shaking Timothy from his thoughts. She nodded and left without another word.
For a moment, Timothy lay there, staring at the empty doorway. His sluggish brain finally catching up, he turned his attention back to his sister. Finally, he asked the question he most wanted answered, even more than what in the hell had happened to him.
"Where's Donald? He's always here when I wake up." Tim paused, eyes widening in fear as the obvious struck home. "Was he hurt, too?"
Kelly swallowed nervously, looking away from Timothy, and he felt a spike of fear. Something had happened. "Kel?"
"Timmy..." She took a deep breath, seeming to steel herself. "You asked why you're here..." she began, and Timothy didn't miss the fact she had changed the subject. "You fell and hit your head. Scared the shit out of Detective Bailey, that's for sure. He told me all about it when he called. Loudly." She winced, shaking her head.
Confusion growing and feeding his fear, Timothy clutched a hand over his stomach. "Bub? Why?"
Chewing on her lip, Kelly shook her head, blinking quickly. "He had come to tell you about..."
"Kelly?" Tim asked, unable to blink, barely able to breathe. Not good, not good, not good playing in his mind on an endless loop. "Where's Donald?"
Refusing to look at Timothy, Kelly pulled her hand free and stood. She paced back and forth once, wringing her hands. Turning, she looked at Tim, tears in her eyes. "He's..." Taking a stuttering breath, Kelly collapsed back into her chair and grabbed Timothy's hand in both of hers. Her voice broke. "He's gone. That's why Bub was there. To tell you."
Memory slammed into place, physically painful, and Tim gasped loudly. Bub Bailey showing up at his office, somber and stuttering. Timothy had stood, perplexed by the visit, but pleased to see the other man all the same. But then Bailey had spoken, and Timothy's vision had faded, the sensation of falling and then... nothing.
Eyes burning, teeth grinding, Timothy shook his head roughly. His chest felt hollow, a vise pressing in from all sides. Forcing himself to breathe, if only just, he clutched at Kelly's hand until his fingers hurt.
"Shot?" he choked out, barely able to force the word from his throat.
Tears spilled from Kelly's eyes and she nodded. Leaning forward suddenly, she wrapped her arms around Timothy. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry."
"No!" Tim yelled, pulling away from his sister's embrace. He shook his head roughly, short, sharp jerks that sent his stomach reeling. Ignoring the nausea - Donald was more important, damn it - Timothy pushed Kelly away. "No, you have to go check on him for me."
Changing his mind, Timothy started pulling at the covers and the wires. "Never mind..." Managing to sit up straight, he clenched his teeth, pushing back the urge to vomit by sheer will. Panting, he said, "I'll call him. You'll see. He's fine." Remembering Bailey's face, knowing he was rambling but unable to stop, Timothy amended, "Maybe not fine. But he's here somewhere. I know it. He's probably wondering where I am."
He looked up, surprised to find Kelly was standing in front of him all of a sudden. She sobbed brokenly, wrapping her arms around Tim's shoulders. Pressing her face to Tim's cheek, she whispered brokenly, "Please stop."
Timothy froze, breathing so quickly he was nearly hyperventilating. "He's probably worried. He needs to know I'm okay."
"Tim..." Kelly continued to sob, pulling back just far enough she could look at Tim, shaking her head. "Just stop. Detective Bailey said..."
Shaking his head, Timothy swallowed back bile. "No."
Climbing onto the bed, Kelly wrapped her arms back around Timothy and pulled his head onto her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Timmy. Oh my God, you have no idea how sorry I am."
"Kelly..." Timothy's voice broke, and he began trembling. "What if..."
She shook her head, rocking them both back and forth gently. Rubbing a hand up and down Tim's arm, she sniffled. "He's gone, Timmy."
Denial surged within Timothy at the words, and he clenched his jaw, staring off into space. "It's not possible," he whispered, a clawing, all-consuming pain building in his chest.
"He was shot," Kelly said, clinically, her voice at the end of a long tunnel, off in the distance. "Apparently, the lady that hired him was in a bad marriage. Her husband was hurting her."
Timothy stared at the wall, not wanting to listen. He refused to blink, refused to let the tears fall, for he knew if they did, if he accepted, they wouldn't stop. Kelly's words, however, continued unabated. "Donald caught him doing it, and tried to stop him."
Timothy tried to breathe, only to sob, clenching his eyes shut and trying to shut out the words. If he didn't listen, if he refused to hear, they wouldn't be true. He would wake up again, with no monitors and no doctors and Donald would be next to him in their bed, smiling sleepily.
That was it - he just had to wake up.
He pinched himself, silly superstition but he didn't care, only to feel a small hand cover his own. "You're awake," Kelly whispered, and distantly he heard the ache in her voice. "I wish you weren't, Timmy."
"It's not... It can't..." Timothy wheezed, digging his finger nails into his palms until he felt blood. Staring at his sister, he searched her face with wild eyes. "You're wrong! You have to be wrong."
"He saved her, Tim." Kelly grasped Tim's cheeks in her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. "His client, he saved her life. Her husband... He shot him, but Donald stopped him. The bastard won't hurt anyone else ever again."
Timothy felt lightheaded and swallowed convulsively. "I can't... He's not..." He growled, stopping just shy of a scream. Spots danced in his vision and he pulled away from Kelly roughly. "I don't care! I don't care about them!"
"I know," Kelly whispered, nodding. "But one day you will. He was a hero."
Laughing hysterically, Timothy pulled away to the head of the bed. Pulling his knees to his chest, Tim wrapped his arms around them and began rocking back and forth. Nausea was his constant companion, the earlier throb behind his right eye was blinding. And they were nothing compared to his heart.
"You think I don't know that?" His voice broke, fading into a whisper. "I don't need some sadistic bastard to show me that."
He struggled to breathe, feeling first one, then several tears break free and burn his cheeks. "Kel..." Shaking, Timothy scrubbed a hand over his face, forcing himself back under control, however tenuously. Unable to think, reality fading, Timothy shook his head and repeated, "It's not possible. It's not."
Kelly didn't speak, she just stared at him, tears streaking down her face. She reached out her hand, but let it fall to the covers between them.
"It's not possible," he continued repeating. Off in the distance, he could hear the monitor beeping faster and faster, shrieking its own denial. "It's not."
If he repeated it enough, denied it enough...
Gasping, Timothy shuddered. He choked, a sob bursting out of his chest, convulsing through his entire body. "Oh, God..." Pain tore through him, burning away the emptiness of denial. "He's gone..."
His sister rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him once more, and he buried his head against her shoulder. Trembling, gasping for air, feeling as though he was breathing broken glass, Timothy choked out, "What am I supposed to do now?"
"I don't know. I wish I did." Vaguely, he felt Kelly shake her head, but couldn't process it. "I'm here."
Clutching onto his sister as tightly as he dared, another tear breaking free, Timothy gasped for air. "I need Donald here."
"I know."
Somewhere far away, he heard a voice he didn't recognize say, "What in the...? Nancy! Page Doctor Kennedy!" Timothy ignored it, it didn't matter.
Emptiness filled him, dread burning his throat. "When he left... I can't remember..." Timothy hiccupped, bordering on hysterical, lost to the overwhelming emotions. "I can't remember if I told him I loved him. What if I didn't tell him I... I always tell him, but I was late, and in a hurry and... Oh, God. What if I didn't tell him?"
"He knew." Numbly he felt Kelly squeeze him harder and pet his hair, both of them trembling. "Oh, God, Timmy, out of everything, he knew that most of all. Every minute of every day, he knew you loved him, just as much as he loved you. Please believe that."
Vision dimming, Timothy clenched his eyes shut, tears burning their way out unabated. His chest cinched, breathing nearly impossible for the sobs that tore violently through him. A dam burst, rage pouring its way out of Timothy and soaking the room with its pain. He was numb except for the white hot pain where his heart used to be.
"I've got you," Timothy heard his sister whisper, somewhere off in the distance. "I made a promise - to him and to myself. I'm not you letting go."
He couldn't find the words, the breath, to question what promise, or more importantly to tell her that it didn't matter. The only thing that did matter was already gone.
end