[fanfiction] never a breath you can afford to waste [2/2]

[kisforkurama]

Three Years Ago. Hospital, Mark's Room.
Mark doesn't remember a whole lot about being kidnapped. He remembers the muffled voices and the way everything was mostly out of focus. He remembers the sharp kiss of pain, then the burn of hurt. He remembers knowing that he was bleeding and that things hurt, but in that abstract way they do when they hurt too much and your body tries to make you forget that they hurt at all. He remembers loud noises from when the team busted in to come save him. He remembers Morgan saying that he was going to be okay.

Part of him knows the memories are hazy because he doesn't want to remember them, and no one seems to blame him for that.

Afterward, when Mark is lying in a hospital bed recovering, Reid tells him that he'll probably always have the scars. Mark somehow knows that Reid isn't talking about the physical scars, although those aren't likely to go away either, and he gives a short noise of acknowledgment before turning into himself. He doesn't want to talk about it now and he doubts he ever will. Reid doesn't make him talk, just pats his shoulder a little awkwardly before leaving. The contact burns, and Mark tries to fight his urge to flinch away from it. He doesn't know how successful he is, and he doubts Reid cares.

When Mark is tired of staring blankly at the sterile white of the wall, he turns back to the room at large. It's a standard hospital room, Mark's section blocked off by a curtain on a rail, and the hum of machinery surrounds him. The IV in his arm itches, but Mark doesn't scratch at it, and everything aches, physically and emotionally. Reid has left a folded piece of paper on the table near Mark's bed with seven digits and a careful if you need anything written underneath. Reaching for it and curling his fingers around it, Mark holds the paper tightly in his hand and wonders how you're supposed to move on after your life has fallen apart.

Three Years Ago. Hospital.
The hospital is an awful place to be, and Mark is stuck in there for almost a month before they think he's recovered enough to release. He's still not particularly robust, though, so he has to sit out of fencing practice for another month. When his team asks what happened, Mark shrugs and doesn't tell them the truth. It's easy to lie to them, because Mark's mother didn't make a big fuss when Mark went missing. She just called the number that Reid and Morgan had given her and said that Mark was missing. The whole thing was very quiet, although Mark has no doubts that they'll find out what happened soon enough. He's supposed to appear in court, and there's a huge media frenzy surrounding the case. Mark has, thankfully, been left alone for the most part. He's a minor, which protects him some, but he knows it might be harder to cover up as things go on.

So when he lies, Mark says he had to have his gallbladder removed and the recovery's a little slow because there were complications. It's believable enough that no one presses for details, because it seems so cut and dry. Of course surgery can have complications. Of course the scars would hurt like a bitch. Are you feeling better, Mark?

Mark wants to scream and ask them how they can keep on living knowing that the world is so awful. He wants to shake everyone who looks at him with that sadness he hates, tell them that it doesn't matter what they say because they can't change what happened to him. He wants to ask if they know what happened to him, if they know what it's like to have scars all over that you can't get rid of.

He doesn't do any of those things, instead sitting on the sidelines and watching them live.

Saturday, 2AM. Hospital Waiting Room.
Hotch isn't really pleased with Morgan and Reid for taking Mark along with them, just because it makes the paperwork or whatever harder to figure out and they weren't supposed to do it anyway so there's just a lot of bureaucracy and whatnot that needs to be cleared up but Morgan takes Hotch aside, speaking to him quietly and something in Hotch relents. Mark watches all this, antsy and wanting to see Eduardo, but Eduardo's being patched up and operated on so he can't. No one's allowed in there anyway, so Mark doesn't feel like he's been cheated out of anything. He does wish they would hurry up, even though he knows that's stupid and if they did hurry up, they might do a shitty job. Hospitals aren't someplace Mark likes to be, although he's pretty sure that no one likes being in a hospital. There's something about the acrid smell and the sterile nature that conjures up every worst-case scenario. Something in him whispers Eduardo could die, and Mark tries to ignore it, forget it exists. He tells himself that Eduardo will be fine, because he was fine and he was in way worse shape. He almost believes it.

Reid tries to get him to go home on multiple occasions, saying that even when Eduardo's better it'll probably be family-only visiting, but Mark stays. He just needs to know Eduardo is okay, and Reid seems to understand that Mark isn't going to budge because after an hour or so he brings Mark a sandwich of questionable quality and a cup of coffee. Mark eats, but doesn't taste.

He doesn't know how long he waits, just knows that eventually a nurse comes over and tells him that Eduardo is most likely going to be okay and Mark can see him once they've settled Eduardo into his room. The knot that has been working up in his chest loosens, and Mark thanks the nurse.

The world is beautiful because Eduardo is okay.

Two Years Ago. Harvard, AEPi Party.
It's probably a good thing that Mark has never been an incredibly social person, because every time someone touches him unexpectedly now, he flinches. No one knows what happened, because his mother didn't make a fuss about him being missing and Mark had been very adamant about media attention being directed away from him and the whole thing being handled quietly. The bastard was in jail now, he didn't want people's pity. He wanted to try and figure out how the fuck to put all the pieces of his life back together to make something approaching normalcy.

When his mother suggests that he stay nearby for college, Mark glares at her and picks Harvard. He doesn't want to be near memories, and Harvard is a large enough, prestigious enough campus that his mother feels safe sending him off. Garcia is a little harder to calm down, and it takes a fifty email long chain before he assures her that he'll be fine and even if it's not, he knows how to get help. College is normal, and Mark wants so badly to be (or pretend to be) normal.

His suitemates are decent, and he's good enough friends with them that his mother and Garcia are okay with him not going to therapy, but his suitemates are regular college boys and they're constantly trying to get him to go to parties and the like, which Mark doesn't know how to respond to. He's uncomfortable at parties, because they're exactly the kind of situation that makes him want to crawl out of his skin, but he can't keep turning down their invitations so he goes to one of the stupid frat parties.

Mark hangs out with his back against the wall next to the punch table, looking out at everyone and wondering how they manage to be so carefree while simultaneously searching for threats the way Morgan taught him, when someone slots into the space next to him. The sudden presence of this person, Eduardo, should set off all his warning bells and he should be flinching away, but their presence feels so utterly normal that Mark is surprised.

"Hi," the person says, "I'm Eduardo. What's your name?"

He looks over at Eduardo, considering.

"Mark."

Sunday, 10AM, hospital
Mark crawls into the bed next to Eduardo, gently resting his head on Eduardo's chest and listening to the heartbeat steadily pounding in his ear. Technically he's not supposed to be there, because Eduardo's visitors are restricted to family (who haven't shown up yet), but Hotch or someone had pulled some strings or something so know the nurses think Mark is family and really? Mark doesn't give a fuck. He just needs to know that Eduardo is alive.

"I'm sorry," Mark whispers to the dead air, "I should have told you."

There's no response, because Eduardo is still sleeping, and Mark doesn't want one anyway. He's never been good at talking to Eduardo when it comes to the important things, and it's a quality that's almost destroyed them. Mark closes his eyes and sighs, breathing out in time with Eduardo.

"I should have told you a lot of things, Eduardo," Mark mumbles, "I'm just bad at it. So here's the big secret I've been keeping from you: I love you. I thought you understood that, but maybe not. Maybe you don't understand how carefully I pay attention to you. Maybe I'll tell you this for real when you wake up, but you have to wake up first. You have to be okay, Eduardo, because I've lost so many things. I don't want to lose you too."

Closing his eyes, Mark lets his breathing fall in time with the beat of Eduardo's heart.

One Year Ago. Mark's Room.
"Mark," Eduardo says, "You seriously need to go see health services. I think you might need to go to a hospital."
"No," Mark tries to glare at Eduardo, "I'm not going to the hospital. This is nothing."
"Fine," Eduardo sighs, "But please go to the health center? I'll walk you there right now, because I'm pretty sure you have pneumonia or something."

Focusing on Eduardo takes effort, but when Mark does, he rolls his eyes and stands up. He sways a little and Eduardo steadies him, wrapping him in a scarf and sticking a hat on him before making him put on proper shoes. Mark thinks it's all a big fuss for nothing, but the world is tipping back and forth too much for him to say anything to that effect. Eduardo is slowly dragging him across campus to health services, and Mark nearly passes out before they gets there. Eduardo sighs, throwing Mark's arm over his shoulder and making him lean against him for support. Mark is barely staying upright, even with Eduardo's solid weight supporting him, and he's starting to think that yeah. Maybe Eduardo does have a point.

When they finally get to the health center, Eduardo sits Mark down in one of the chairs and leaves to talk to the lady at the front desk. He's charming her, explaining about Mark, but Mark doesn't focus on that. Instead, Mark sits and breathes. It's kind of difficult, and Mark is maybe understanding where Eduardo was coming from with the whole pneumonia notion. He tries to tell Eduardo this when Eduardo comes to fetch him, but everything goes out of focus and dark before he can form the words.

He doesn't remember going to the emergency room, although Eduardo later informs him that they did go. He doesn't really remember that much about his overnight stay at the hospital either, but he does remember Eduardo settling him into bed and brushing his hair off his forehead as he whispers something that sounds like a lullaby. He remembers the warmth of Eduardo's hands and, absently, Mark thinks that Eduardo is crazy to do so much for someone he's only known a few months.

Maybe that's just how Eduardo is. Maybe Eduardo is a reason the world is beautiful. Mark can't tell whether that thought is the product of whatever they've pumped him with to make him better or a real thought. Maybe he'll know when he wakes up.

"Sleep," Mark hears, and he does.

6 Months Ago. After the AdBoard Meeting.
Eduardo is sitting outside of the building and waiting for Mark to be done with his meeting, scrolling through songs on his iPod. Mark comes out, annoyed in a way that's more focused than his usual the world is stupid, and Eduardo stands.

"So?"
"Six months," Mark says, like the words are distasteful, "academic probation."
"Well," Eduardo shrugs, tucking his iPod in his pocket, "they had to make an example out of you."
"They had my blog," Mark grumbles, "I shouldn't have written that thing about the farm animals, that was stupid."

Nodding, Eduardo pulls his headphones out and starts wrapping them up. Mark isn't looking at him.

"But I was kidding for gods sakes! Doesn't anybody have a sense of humor?"

This is one of those moments where Eduardo wonders if Mark knows he speaks a very different language than everyone else. He doesn't think Mark's sense of humor matches up with other people's, and Eduardo wonders if this is also a product of whatever dark secret Mark harbors within him. He chooses to ignore Mark's question, assuming it's rhetorical anyway.

"I tried to stop you."
"I know," Mark finally looks at Eduardo, "Why is the world beautiful?"
"I don't know," Eduardo shrugs, "because you didn't get expelled and now we get to go back to your dorm and eat pizza and try to forget this happened."

There's a pause where Mark studies Eduardo's face, and then he turns away again. He starts walking back to his dorm, and Eduardo shoves his headphones into his pocket before following him with a sigh. Mark never really gets any less complicated.

"How do you do this thing where you manage to get all girls to hate us?" Eduardo says, not really meaning what he says, "And why do I let you?"
"I know," Mark says, which doesn't even make sense.
"You can't do that," Eduardo sighs.

Resisting the urge to touch Mark, Eduardo slings his bag over his shoulder and walks next to Mark. He has his own dorm room, but he never spends any time there anyway, so it just makes sense to follow Mark. That's what Eduardo tells himself, anyway, because it sounds so much better than the fact that Eduardo just spends most of his time following Mark around like a lovesick puppy now.

"Wardo," Mark rolls his eyes, "I said I know."

Sunday, 5PM. Hospital
"Mark," Reid says softly, "Mark, you need to go home."
"No," Mark mumbles, not moving from his position as Eduardo's own personal space heater, "I'm not going anywhere."

Even before he says no, Mark knows he's going to lose this argument. He's strung out and exhausted, barely awake and slurring his words. He needs to go home, because there's nothing he can do here and Eduardo would probably be mad if he found out Mark hadn't been home and Mark knows all that, okay? But he just wants to know Eduardo is real, solid, not going anywhere. He can't know that if he leaves.

"Kid," Morgan sighs, "You got five seconds to get out of that bed or I'm going to pick you up and drag you out of here myself."
"You wouldn't," Mark says, only he doesn't sound sure even to himself, "I'll resist."
Morgan raises an eyebrow, "One."
"Not cool," Mark mumbles, "You wouldn't make Reid go."
"Two," Morgan continues, still raising an eyebrow.

Mark looks over to Reid for help, but Reid holds his hands up and takes a step back. It figures that Reid wouldn't go up against Morgan. Mark tries to glare at Morgan, but he's tired and his body isn't cooperating. He isn't going to win, but he's stubborn and he doesn't want to give up either.

"Three," Morgan says, taking a step toward Mark.
"I hate you," Mark grumbles, no real heat in his voice.
Morgan takes another step forward, "Four."
"Seriously," Mark whines, "I'll be fine."
Morgan takes the final step toward the bed and rolls his eyes at Mark, "Five."

The sleep deprivation and fading adrenaline combine, making Mark struggle only weakly when Morgan picks him up and starts carrying him out of the room. Mark grumbles the whole way out to the rental car, mostly to Reid, who's trailing behind the two of them and smiling fondly. It's hard to glare at someone when you're upsidedown and also moving, Mark finds, so he settles for saying that he's going to tell Garcia about this.

"Oh," Reid laughs, "I somehow don't think Garcia will take your side on this one, Mark."

He's right and Mark knows it, but it doesn't stop him from trying one more time to glare at Reid. Reid just laughs, fingers curled around the strap of his messenger bag.

Last Wednesday, 5PM. Mark's Room.
Dustin comes in, visibly concerned, and Mark looks up from the code he was just working on smoothing out.

"Someone's trying to hack us," Dustin says, "They haven't made it in yet, but they will soon and I can't stop them."

Mark shifts in his seat, annoyed and trying to find the source of the intrusion. They're trying to get in using a loophole he had noted, but not gotten around to fixing yet, and he snorts when he sees the message they left for him. Garcia is the one hacking them, and Dustin wouldn't get it but this is her way of supporting him. He looks back up at Dustin.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it."
Dustin looks skeptical, "Are you sure?"
"Yeah."

There's a moment where Dustin just looks at Mark, worried, but Mark just stares at him and then Dustin retreats. Turning back to his screen, Mark starts launching his counterattack. This is going to be the most fun he's had since he finished coding thefacebook. Garcia's not better than him, though, and she wouldn't do any real damage even if she did manage to break in because she's not really doing it to break anything. She's probably not even devoting all her attention to her attack, doing it on the side while she sorts through information for the team, and that's going to be her downfall.

Sunday, 5:30PM. Mark's Suite
When the car comes to a slow stop, Mark's vaguely aware of someone lifting him out of the car and carrying him somewhere. They set him onto a bed, and Mark tries to say something about Eduardo and making sure Eduardo is okay, but all he gets is a soft chuckle in return. The last thing before Mark drops into unconsciousness is muffled voices that sound miles away.

Six Months Ago. Mark's Room.
FaceSmash goes live, and Mark's looking at his screen intently, because it feels like the answer to why he can't make relationships with people work should be buried in there somewhere. He can't find it on the screen, but it's not like he actually needs to look for it in the first place. He knows the answer, because the answer feels like it's going to suffocate him. Mark breathes, in and then out.

"Eduardo," he says, turning toward where Eduardo's seated on his bed, "why is the world beautiful?"

It takes Eduardo a moment to answer, moments a little hazy with alcohol, and if Mark weren't pretty drunk himself he'd think Eduardo wasn't paying attention to him. Eduardo licks his lips, which Mark knows means he's thinking, and then sighs.

"Well," Eduardo says, slowly and carefully pronounced, "we are drunk and there is more beer. Beer makes everything better."

Holding out the bottle he'd barely holding, Eduardo smiles at Mark. Mark takes the bottle from Eduardo, giving him a small smile back, and thinking that Eduardo is kind of brilliant. Beer makes everything better. Being drunk makes it easier to be.

Three Years Ago. Unspecified Warehouse.
"We wouldn't be doing this if you hadn't been so nosy," the shadows say, "You could have saved yourself a lot of pain. It doesn't matter, though, because we're going to have fun together."

There's a laugh, sharp and cold, and it cuts through Mark. The wound it makes bleeds, and Mark tries to breathe through the pain, but then something is being pressed into the cut. It's as sharp as the laughter, a thousand tiny points of pain all along his stomach, and Mark sobs. He doesn't have enough slack in his restraints to struggle, to get away from the burn, the pain, but he tries.

He twists and pulls at his restraints as much as he has energy for, keeps fighting against the pain and the overwhelming sting, but the shadows are stronger. They keep him in place, keep him from getting away, and Mark can't give up, doesn't want to give up, but everything goes black.

Monday, 8AM. Mark's Suite
Mark wakes up gasping for air and trying to remember how to breathe. He closes his eyes and swallows, trying to gather the energy to get out of bed. The world is beautiful because you defeated the monster. The world is beautiful because Eduardo is okay, and you are okay. Breathe in, and then out. It will be okay.

"Oh," Chris says when Mark stumbles into the common room, "You're awake. The scary FBI guy told me that if I let you go anywhere without showering and eating, Garcia is going to call your mom."

Mark pauses, most of the way to the door although not yet wearing shoes. He scowls at Chris, who shrugs and goes back to whatever book he's studying. Looking at the door, Mark weighs his options. He could disobey Morgan's order, but his mother doesn't know about anything that's happened recently (or so he assumes, given the lack of mild and collected phonecalls from her) and he'd rather she not know about this until he's feeling more emotionally equipped to deal with her serene and understated calm. His mother is terrifying when she's worried, and he hates making her worry without cause anyway (although it's possible that his definition of without cause differs significantly from most people's). It could potentially be a disaster if Garcia calls his mother, but on the other hand Eduardo is alone at the moment and that just makes Mark antsy.

Swaying between the bathroom and the door, Mark tries to decide what he should do. With a sigh, Chris shuts his book and sets it on the table. He walks over to Mark and gently points him toward the bathroom.

"Go take a shower, Mark," Chris murmurs, "I'll make you something to eat. Eduardo can wait twenty more minutes, and he'll be angry if he finds out you're not taking care of yourself anyway. You know he'd rather you take care of yourself than you be there when he wakes up."

Some part of Mark wants to argue with Chris, because no one wants to wake up alone, but Chris is right. Eduardo spends a lot of time worrying about Mark (almost as much time as Mark spends worrying about Eduardo, although Eduardo is more outward about his worry), and the thought of Eduardo being mad at him so soon after what happened makes Mark sad. That decides it for him, and Mark starts walking toward the bathroom, already stripping out of his hoodie. Chris sighs behind him, but Mark is lost in his own thoughts.

The water is the shower is icy, as usual, and Mark shivers through the quickest shower he can manage. He's too impatient to let the water warm up, and he's out of the shower before it gets anything over tepid. Toweling off, Mark pulls on the same clothes he was wearing before largely because he didn't have the foresight to bring any into the bathroom with him. When he walks back out into the common room, Chris rolls his eyes and hands Mark a bowl of the shitty Campbell's chicken noodle soup they keep for when they're too lazy to get real food. Mark drinks it, chewing the noodles and swallowing before he sets the bowl down with the other dirty dishes.

"Thanks," Mark says before he starts heading out.
"You're welcome," Chris smiles, "Tell Eduardo hey for me, okay?"

Nodding, Mark leaves their suite and shuts the door behind him. He'd never admit it to Morgan (or Reid), but showering washed away a lot of the fear and eating made him a little less frantic than he'd been. The sleep helped too, in a purely physical way, but he'd had nightmares again and seeing Eduardo alive would help wipe some of the shadows from his mind. These nightmares were different from the ones he'd had for the past three years, full of trying to save Eduardo and failing. Full of Eduardo dying over and over again.

Shaking the phantoms off, Mark takes a slow breath and reminds himself that Eduardo is alive and he will wake up. He smiles just a little, because if he had to be anywhere in the world, he would rather be with Eduardo than without him.

Three Months Ago. Common Room of Mark's Suite.
"Dude," Dustin says, bumping up against Mark, "stop looking like that. I know you're pissy that Eduardo got into a finals club or whatever, but he's still your friend and he'll still be around."

Dustin's heart is in the right place, but Mark's not really upset because Eduardo got punched. He's upset because Eduardo being punched does stupid things to Eduardo's normally rhythmic schedule and Mark is annoyed that he has to learn new schedules, new patterns. It's definitely not because Eduardo doing stupid initiation rights is sucking away the amount of time Eduardo spends with Mark. Definitely not.

He's not that selfish, really. He knows that Eduardo has a life that doesn't involve him, and it's not like they're dating or anything so really. Really, Mark has no reason to be upset with Eduardo. Dustin sighs from next to Mark, pressing a beer and a PS2 controller into his hands. Mark takes them, aware that it's a distraction and that he should stop lying to himself at some point.

Taking a swing of the beer, Mark sets it down on the coffee table and focuses on the game. Kicking Dustin's ass is probably a better use of his time than being mad at Eduardo and Mark will definitely kick his ass. Definitely.

Eight Months Ago. Erica's Room.
Erica kisses him, and Mark settles his hands on her waist and tries not to panic. It's slow, unhurried, and if Mark weren't so worried that Erica was going to make a sudden move, he might be enjoying it more. She pulls back, brown eyes filled with concern, and Mark wishes he were a little more like what she wants.

"Mark?" she asks, clearly worried, "You okay?"
"I'm fine," Mark lies, "Sorry."

She stares at him for a moment, trying to spot the lie, but she's either not very good at reading Mark or Mark's gotten too good at lying. Maybe it's a little of both, but either way she kisses him again and Mark tries to stop thinking about what could go wrong and focus on the moment instead. There's a lot of effort involved, and sometimes Mark wonders why his relationship with Eduardo requires so little of that. Mark doesn't have to worry about Eduardo's actions in the same way he worries about Erica's and maybe that wouldn't be an issue if Erica understood, but Mark's spent so long trying to make his life normal again that he doesn't want that.

If Erica knew and thought she understood, she'd probably treat him like he's made of glass, and that's the last thing Mark wants from anyone.

One Month Ago. Common Room of Mark's Suite.
Eduardo flops down on the couch with a sigh, and Mark sits near him but not particularly close. Turning his head, Eduardo looks at Mark.

"Why do you always come out with me when I ask if you want to go get something to eat, even when all you get is soda?"
Mark shrugs, "You get sad when you think I'm not leaving my room enough. Or eating enough. Or sleeping enough. I wouldn't be a very good friend if I knowingly made you sad all the time."

He doesn't say he goes because he just likes being around Eduardo. He doesn't say that being around Eduardo makes him feel a little more at ease than he sometimes is. The part about Eduardo being sad when he thinks Mark isn't taking care of himself is true enough, and Eduardo seems to buy it because he rolls his eyes and hauls himself more upright to grab the remote off the table.

"Of course," Eduardo says as he turns the TV on, "I don't know why I ever thought you'd have a normal reason for doing it, like . . . Oh, I don't know. Wanting to hang out with me."
"Nope," Mark smiles, "I hang out with you purely because I hate your sad eyes making me feel guilty."

Eduardo reaches across the space between them, slowly enough that Mark is aware it's happening, and shoves at his shoulder. Mark obediently sways with the push and rolls his eyes at Eduardo as he flips through channels.

Monday, 2PM. Eduardo's Hospital Room
When Eduardo wakes up, the first thing he notices is that someone is holding his hand. The second thing he notices is the the sound of someone typing-a sound so familiar that Eduardo recognizes it even through the haze of whatever drugs are running through his system. With more effort than he will ever admit, Eduardo manages to focus on something else very familiar to him: Mark. He's typing one-handed on his laptop, something Eduardo has seen him do before when he was eating something that only required one hand to eat. Eduardo wonders if Mark understands that Eduardo expressly chooses food that requires utensils to eat for that exact reason. Or tries to wonder anyway, because the third thing that Eduardo notices is that everything hurts. He groans.

Mark immediately looks up, something panicked in his eyes that smooths out into relief. If Eduardo wasn't hyperaware of every cell in his body that's screaming in pain at him, he'd smile at that. Even so, he tries.

"You're awake," Mark pauses, "Do you need anything?"
"Painkillers," Eduardo tries to say, but it sounds a little off, "Every painkiller in the world."

Holding the laptop steady, Mark carefully pulls his hand away and Eduardo wants to whine at that, but then Mark is slipping something into Eduardo's hand. It confuses Eduardo until he pulls it closer. There's a little red button on it and Eduardo's brain belatedly puts together that pressing the button will give him painkillers. He presses the button, blissful numbness spreading through him.

"How do you feel?"

There's something about Mark's tone that stops Eduardo from giving a sarcastic and heavy response. He tries to focus on Mark, still finding it a little hard, and tries to work out what he's actually asking. Eduardo learned very quickly that most of the time Mark was saying exactly what he meant, but what he meant was not easily interpreted without some thinking. Mark is asking how Eduardo is feeling on the surface, but Eduardo doesn't think that's actually what he wants to know. He sighs. Everything is too fuzzy to work out Mark's subtleties right now.

"I feel like everything is fuzzy and I don't know what you're actually asking. Use normal people words, Mark."

There's a silence, filled with the way Mark taps his keyboard. It's a nervous tick that Eduardo finds alternately infuriating and adorable. Apparently he's too drugged to work up proper fury, so it's just adorable. Finally, Mark shuts his laptop and sets it aside, standing up and climbing into the bed with Eduardo. He's careful, so careful, as he crawls in and Eduardo kind of thinks that Mark probably shouldn't be doing it to begin with but he honestly doesn't care. Mark is warm and solid, neatly fitting into the space beside Eduardo.

"Do you remember when I asked you why the world is beautiful?"
"Yes," Eduardo says, a little confused, "why?"
"Because you were the first person I asked who didn't know why I was asking."

Eduardo feels like that's a significant statement, but like most significant statements Mark makes, Eduardo has no idea why it's significant. He waits for Mark to continue explaining, knowing that even Mark will understand that he needs to explain further.

"That case I helped the FBI out with three years ago," Mark pauses, like he's searching for words, "I got kidnapped, just like you. The team found me, although it took them longer than it took me, because you had your cellphone on you, but when they did I wasn't in good shape."

Shifting a little, Mark lifts up his shift and hoodie. Circling his fingers around Eduardo's wrist, he touches Eduardo's hand to the skin there, and Eduardo can tell there's a smattering of slightly raised scars all along his stomach. He runs his fingers over them like he's trying to read the map of Mark's body, and Mark stays still.

"I was in the hospital for a while," Mark continues, "and then I was in therapy up until I came to Harvard. I should probably still be there, but I made a deal with my mom and Garcia that if I could manage to make friends and start living again I wouldn't have to. Because . . . I stopped seeing the point in living after I was kidnapped. The scars weren't just on my skin, they were in my mind too because I suddenly knew how awful the world was. I asked Reid about it, and he told me that you just have to make yourself realize how beautiful the world is."

Stilling his hand on Mark's chest, Eduardo frowns at Mark for a moment. He doesn't quite understand everything Mark's saying and it's possible Eduardo's head is too fuzzy to be having this kind of conversation, but nothing about Mark happens when it's supposed to so Eduardo tries to pull himself together. He touches his forehead to Mark's, hoping that Mark doesn't panic. There's a moment where Mark almost flinches away, but then Mark's eyes flutter shut and his breath ghosts over Eduardo's lips. Eduardo wants to kiss him, but it's not the right time for that. Besides, he doesn't know if Mark would even want to.

"Tell me why the world is beautiful," Eduardo says instead.

Mark's eyes open, although he's a little too close for Eduardo to completely focus on him. He can still see the smile of Mark's face, though.

"Because of you," Mark says simply.

Eduardo isn't sure how true that reason is for him, but it seems true for Mark and that's enough. Mark's shifting, settling in against Eduardo with his head on Eduardo's chest. Eduardo moves his arm to curl around Mark and Mark inhales sharply, then exhales slowly. If he weren't very drugged, Eduardo thinks he'd probably be a little more careful about touching Mark. For the moment, though, Eduardo is a little preoccupied with the fact that Mark is there at all.

"I'd kiss you," Eduardo mumbles, "but I want to remember it. Will you let me kiss you when I'm out of here?"
"Of course," Mark says, from somewhere around Eduardo's heart, "You can kiss me as many times as you want."

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