Officially unofficial fic post of Topeka stuff!
Way back in June when I first posted my insane AU idea, I included the following statement: Fangirls implode when it's revealed in the third season finale that Cain and Glitch have been carrying out a secret affair for two years.
So here's the back half of the season three finale. This is for surranndie, who flipped out when I told her what I had planned and demanded it back in, um, October. NOTE: this is basically the climax of a "season-long arc" so... yeah, read at your own risk as it IS perplexing. Also Cain/LeFevre OTP forever and always. And it's a little under 3,000 words. And unbeta'd.
3x21 - Found and Lost
"Where is he?" Praedlyn shouted as the boat pulled away.
Zevon shrugged, then smiled faintly. "You're right on top of him. Can't miss him."
"What the hell are you talking about, Zero?" Cain roared, but he was mostly drowned out as the boat's engine kicked up and it sped away down river.
Praedlyn was looking around frantically, then the water gauge caught her attention and she gasped. "Christ, Cain, the river-"
He followed her gaze, saw the water lapping at the seven foot depth marker, and felt his stomach drop even as his feet carried him forward, over the edge, into the water, and down.
It was murky, and he was disoriented, but Cain finally saw a mass of white and surged towards it in slow motion. He could just make out LeFevre's face, a pale blur surrounded by the floating darkness of his hair, and Cain grabbed hold of him desperately, pulling as hard as he could. Infuriated, and running out of air, he felt along LeFevre's arms until he felt the rope binding his wrists, the tether to his ankles and the large sandbags. His vision was going and he needed a blade, he needed air, he needed-
Instinct drove him upward, and he gasped and spluttered when he reached the surface.
"Got him!" he managed, then took a painfully deep breath before diving down again. He managed to pull his razor from his pocket and got to work cutting one tether, fighting the water's drag as he did so. When that didn't work Cain went for the rope around his hands, sawing away, feeling the fibers give until he had to go up and breathe again - can't save him if you're the one who needs saving - then back down.
The razor slipped when it finally severed the rope, slicing into skin and Cain dropped the blade at once to pull LeFevre into his arms and kick upwards.
Cain broke the water's surface with a gasp, frantic and disoriented with the limp body a dead weight in his arms. He flailed around for a few precious moments before focusing in on Praedlyn's voice shouting instructions, urging him to the dock and Cain swam awkwardly as he tried to keep LeFevre - Ambrose, Ambrose's head above water and he really was a dead weight and this could not possibly be happening to him again.
"I'll hold him but you have to come up and help me, I can't pull him up," Praedlyn was saying, toeing that line between calm and frantic as she reached down and grabbed onto Ambrose's shoulders. "I've got him, let go, help me."
He didn't remember getting out of the river, just suddenly being up on the dock and hauling Ambrose up. White t-shirt, jeans, no shoes with the rope still tight around his ankles and one wrist and Cain was frozen while Praedlyn pressed her fingers tight to Ambrose's neck.
"He's not..." he began dully, but she glared at him.
"Don't even start," she snapped. "The brain can go six minutes without oxygen, we've still got a shot at this, now come on Cain. Two breaths, thirty compressions, repeat 'til the van gets here."
Another spike of adrenaline and Cain lurched forward, tilted Ambrose's head back with one hand, pinched his nose closed with the other, took a deep breath, and-
He was slammed back against the locker, LeFevre's body pinning him there and his mouth hot and eager against Cain's, and all Cain could do was kiss back and hold on and anyone could walk in and for once he didn't care. Zero had Jeb, he'd just been pulled off the case ("Too close," Rawlins had said sadly) and LeFevre was giving him a moment's reprieve from it all.
"We'll get him back," LeFevre had panted against his neck. "I'll get you your kid back, I promise." And he'd pulled away with a wicked grin and a gleam in his eye and left Cain alone to compose himself.
Cain should have known, he really, really should have understood that it had been a kiss goodbye. LeFevre had already planned on taking Jeb's place, to give himself up so the boy would have a chance and it was exactly the sort of noble, stupid, selfish, insane idea the idiot genius would come up with. That was two days ago, the last he'd seen him, and now-
Nothing. The air had nowhere to go, the passage was blocked (or the lungs too filled with water) and Cain took another breath, sealed their mouths together tighter, exhaled harder and Praedlyn was on with dispatch giving their location and a running commentary.
"Nothing," he reported, but his training had kicked in and he placed his hands at the center of Ambrose's chest (not too low), kept his elbows rigid and started compressions, counting off off in his head an waiting for some reason to hope.
"Might be laryngospasm," Praedlyn offered. Cain spared her a momentary glance, just enough to register that she was pale and shaking despite her calm. "Throat closes up to keep water out of the lungs, it should relax." If that's it, she didn't bother to add.
Thirty compressions, two more breaths and this time Ambrose's chest rose slightly in response. Another round ("Where are they, Lea?"), another round ("Soon, can't be long."), and Cain swore when he felt a rib crack but he kept going, and then they stopped counting until there were sirens in the distance getting closer. The next thing Cain knew he was being pulled away, a blanket roughly tossed around his shoulders while the EMTs tried to finish the work he'd started.
For a few moments everything was a blur of flashing lights and medical jargon, Praedlyn filling the first responders in as best she could while Cain caught his breath and watched them load Ambrose onto a stretcher. A defibrillator was mentioned. Praedlyn stood before Cain now, and he could finally see how shaken she was.
"I'm going in with him," she said firmly, catching his eyes with hers and making him focus. "I'm his medical proxy, I'll take care of him."
"He has a DNR order," Cain said, distant. That had been one of their serious discussions, what to do in case of an accident, or a stray bullet, or a gangster with a grudge and a bunch of sandbags.
She nodded, and reached out to grip his arm. "I know, but I know where to draw the line too." One of the EMTs called her, and she nodded. "Gotta go, one of the guys will get you-"
"I'll take him," Tudor called as he walked up the dock. Praedlyn sighed and brushed past him before breaking into a run to reach the ambulance. Tudor reached his partner and leaned in with a frown. "Cain? You all right?"
All he could do was shake his head because he was not all right, at all, the doors had slammed shut and the siren wailed as the ambulance lurched into motion, and Cain found himself starting to walk, as though he intended to follow it on foot. Tudor steered him to their car and maneuvered him into the passenger seat before getting behind the wheel, turning on the engine and lights, and throwing the car into gear.
"So run it by me," Tudor prompted once they got on the road. "Zero called you, right? What was the ransom?"
Cain's gaze was focused straight ahead. "Just a boat. We give him a boat, he gives us Am- LeFevre. Left out the part where they were leaving him at the bottom of the river."
"And you left out the part where you're supposed to get backup for this kind of thing. So you and Praedlyn go haring off, a kidnapper and murder suspect gets away thanks to police cooperation, and..." Tudor gestured over the wheel. "Well, we'll see."
"I'll take it up with Rawlins later."
"You'll take it up with me too, partner."
The rest of the ride to Stormont-Vail was silent. They were directed to the waiting room along with Praedlyn, who gave an update ("he's still with us, you did good"), and in time Rawlins arrived with Jeb and dry clothes for Cain.
Jeb was waiting outside the restroom while his father got changed, and once he was done Cain dropped the bag holding his wet clothes and shoes (the hospital had given him a pair of no-skid socks) and closed the distance to embrace his son.
"I'm sorry," Jeb mumbled. "It's my fault."
Cain stepped back with a shake of his head and settled both hands on Jeb's shoulders. "No, it's not. If anyone's to blame it's Zero."
For a moment Jeb looked guilty, then gave a slow nod of acceptance. "Ambrose is okay though, right?"
"He's alive," Cain said with with a shrug. It sounded like a correction. "That's what I heard last. They're only talking to Leona."
As though summoned Praedlyn rounded the corner behind them and huffed a sigh. She approached them with quick steps and took hold of their arms.
"We need to talk."
Cain froze. "No."
"No," she said firmly and dragged them along. "Y'all are family to him which makes you family to me, and we're gonna talk about this like a family."
She lead them to the trauma center's chapel, a small, dimly-lit room with chairs along one wall and a table with a bible and a statue of Jesus on the other, a crucifix hung on the wall overhead. The men stood by awkwardly as Praedlyn crouched and made the sign of the cross.
"I didn't know you were a believer," Cain remarked distantly.
"I'm not saying no to any help right now," she replied and gestured for them to sit, then took the chair beside Jeb. "We don't know the extent of the damage."
"Damage?" Cain repeated.
She nodded. "Aside from a couple cracked ribs and a busted lip from some yahoo giving him CPR," she began with a faint smile. "They got the water out of his lungs but it'll be a while before they clear up completely. He's breathing on his own though, it's a good start." Praedlyn sighed and ruffled her hair. "The EKG was a bit off, but that's expected. We're more worried about his brain."
Cain stared at her. "You said we had six minutes-"
"Six minutes to avoid brain death, but there's always a risk when oxygen's cut off," Praedlyn murmured. "The MRI came back clear of clots so he probably won't stroke out but... it was showing some abnormalities in activity."
"What?" Jeb whispered, very quietly.
She bit her lip, considering her words. "'Misfirings' is the best I can explain it. Something will signal in one part of his brain, and the part that should respond...won't, or it's delayed. Not all the time, plenty is doing fine, but-"
"But he's brain damaged," Cain finished and hung his head. "How bad are we talking?"
"We won't know until he wakes up," Praedlyn said. "Could be memory, could be motor skills..."
"He could be a vegetable."
"Dad!" Jeb snapped, then looked to Praedlyn for a denial. She didn't give one and he nodded, swallowed. "So... so what now?"
She explained about the coma, the monitoring, the waiting they were going to have to endure. She didn't bother mentioning they it might be for nothing and Ambrose may not wake up at all; it was clear that Cain was already convinced of that outcome. For now, Praedlyn would bear the burden of the optimist, and keep Jeb company while Cain was sent to ICU to be with Ambrose.
He stepped through the door into the private room and finally, after hours of staying on the edge, let himself be Wyatt.
So it was Wyatt who took in the details one at a time, the monitor for blood pressure and pulse, the steady drip of IV fluid, the ECG graph, the bump of Ambrose's toes at the foot of the bed, the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, the messy nest of curls his hair had dried into. Slowly Wyatt sank into the chair beside the bed, listened to the raspy sound of Ambrose's breath, noted the livid bruise on his left cheek.
"This can't be real," he said, and was amazed at how steady his voice was. Leona had told him to talk, that people in comas could hear what was happening around them. Wyatt thought it sounded like something out of a TV show and was not inclined to believe it, but he also had things he needed to say.
If there was even a small chance Ambrose would hear it, then there was no harm done.
"Why did you have to-" Wyatt cut himself off, not sure where he was going with that. Too many possibilities with innumerable answers, and if he were awake odds were Ambrose would just shrug and smile that cat-with-the-cream smile and Wyatt could picture it perfectly, had seen it hundreds of times and at some point it had gone from irritating him to making his heart beat a little faster.
His heart was pounding now, with fear and rage and something else he'd been terrified to put a name to out of foolishness.
"You'd better not- you better wake up," he snapped, almost angry. "We're not done yet, we've... I've just gotten started." He scooted the chair closer and leaned in, lowered his voice. "And if you did this because you figured I'd never catch up with you, then you're wrong." Wyatt laughed, soft and brittle. "God, that is fun to say."
He closed his eyes and willed everything away - this can't be real - and rifled through memories. The look on Ambrose's face when he delivered a key piece of evidence, his understated laugh, the confidence of his hands and Wyatt found himself holding Ambrose's left hand tight.
"I'm sorry, Ambrose," he murmured, and with his free hand tried smoothing down the tangle of curls. "I should have... I don't know. Not let you go on thinking it was just you, or that I wasn't just..." He sighed and hung his head, then gave up and closed the distance, pressing a kiss to the other man's brow. "I love you, and I'm a coward for never saying it."
Wyatt slowly drew away and looked up to find his partner standing n the doorway with his mouth hanging open in shock. They were frozen for a moment, then Wyatt dropped Ambrose's hand and shot to his feet as Tudor took a step backwards.
"Tommy-"
Tudor shook his head, turned, and quickly walked away.
With a curse Wyatt strode after him, pausing at the door for one backward glance before continuing.
"Tom!" he called. Tudor was already at the elevator, pushing the "down" call button over and over. "Tom, wait-"
"He got to you, huh?"
"What?"
Tudor spared him a moment's glare. "He got to you, with his-" and he made an abbreviated limp-wristed gesture.
Wyatt reached to grab his arm, thought better of it, and redirected to rub the back of his own neck. "God, Tommy, that's-"
"Something else for you to talk to Rawlins about," Tudor finished for him, and he all but jumped into the elevator when it finally arrived.
The doors closed, and Wyatt wondered if he needed a new partner.
*
Leona dragged him and Jeb home. She insisted that somebody should sleep and it might as well be them, she would call the moment she heard anything.
Jeb headed up the stairs first, only to stop at the half-landing.
"I told Zero who he was."
Wyatt frowned and looked up at him. "What?"
"I told him about Ambrose," Jeb said, his voice full of guilt. "And you. Who he was to you. That's probably why Zero let him take my place. I'm sorry."
Wyatt blinked and shook his head. "Is."
"Huh?"
"Who he is to me."
Jeb smiled faintly. "Right. Night, Dad."
*
The following morning Leona reported no change ("they took him off the oxygen at least") so Cain went straight to the station and straight on up to Rawlins' office. He knocked on the door, waited a moment, and went in.
"Do you want my report or my resignation?" he asked and strode to the desk.
Rawlins looked up from his keyboard and nodded to the chair that had become Cain's. "Report."
Cain set his hat on his knee and sighed. "CSI Praedlyn and I were contacted by Everrett Zevon at about three PM yesterday. Zevon told us that CSI LeFevre would be returned to us in exchange for a boat-"
"Boat?"
"Yeah," Cain sighed. "Praedlyn acquired a small motor boat, which we then took via the river to the meeting spot at the given time of five PM. OnceZevon and the two men accompanying him were on the boat we were told that LeFevre was... at the bottom of the river." He paused and shook his head. "I jumped into the water to rescue him, at which point the suspects made their escape downriver."
There was a pause as Rawlins typed some more information, then turned his gaze to the detective. Cain focused on a point above Rawlins' head and waited for his reprimand. He'd helped a suspect escape, he'd acted against orders by getting involved with the Zevon case, and he'd endangered himself as well as Praedlyn. All of this had been in the process of saving his now-comatose lover who was both a coworker and a man (either of those were potentially damning), and this fact was now more or less out in the open.
It was probably the worst possible set of results for a course of action he should never have taken.
Rawlins' expression, however, was one of soft compassion.
"Putting you on leave," the lieutenant said. "So you can be with your family."
Cain blinked. "Sir?"
"Go on," Rawlins said with a gesture towards the door. "Spoke with HR, come back when you're ready."
With a nod of thanks Cain got to his feet and departed the office.
*
Late in the morning on the following day Ambrose began to show signs of waking with the twitch of a finger and an incoherent mumble. Wyatt had taken up a vigil, wanting to be there when he came around completely. People came and went, doctors, nurses, and briefly the Droidens for awkward company.
He was already tired of people looking at him like he was a stranger.
Fortunately Jeb came by with more coffee, and maybe they were both going a little nuts but they laughed for a good while when Jeb waved his cup in front of Ambrose's face enticingly.
"Come on, man," Jeb sighed. "You owe me a Smash Brothers rematch."
There was no response.
"Just a bit longer," Wyatt said quietly.
Leona joined them for a supper of burgers smuggled in from Bobo's, then took Jeb home. Wyatt found a Rockies game on the TV and watched that for a while on mute. Just as he was dozing off Ambrose grumbled again, still nonsensical but stronger.
"Brose?" Wyatt called and got up to lean over the bed, taking the other man's hand and squeezing gently. The fingers twitched and his heart leaped. "Come on, come back."
Various expressions flicked across Ambrose's face in the next few moments, a frown, a wince, another spate of muttering and then his eyes slowly slid open. Wyatt gave a small, breathless laugh and moved is left hand to rest over Ambrose's heart.
"Good morning, sweetheart," he whispered tenderly.
Ambrose's brows drew together and he frowned, blinked, and managed to rasp four words in reply.
"Do I know you?"
blackout; "To Be Continued"
end credits
===
YOU ALL KNEW I WAS GOING THERE.
So here's the back half of the season three finale. This is for surranndie, who flipped out when I told her what I had planned and demanded it back in, um, October. NOTE: this is basically the climax of a "season-long arc" so... yeah, read at your own risk as it IS perplexing. Also Cain/LeFevre OTP forever and always. And it's a little under 3,000 words. And unbeta'd.
3x21 - Found and Lost
"Where is he?" Praedlyn shouted as the boat pulled away.
Zevon shrugged, then smiled faintly. "You're right on top of him. Can't miss him."
"What the hell are you talking about, Zero?" Cain roared, but he was mostly drowned out as the boat's engine kicked up and it sped away down river.
Praedlyn was looking around frantically, then the water gauge caught her attention and she gasped. "Christ, Cain, the river-"
He followed her gaze, saw the water lapping at the seven foot depth marker, and felt his stomach drop even as his feet carried him forward, over the edge, into the water, and down.
It was murky, and he was disoriented, but Cain finally saw a mass of white and surged towards it in slow motion. He could just make out LeFevre's face, a pale blur surrounded by the floating darkness of his hair, and Cain grabbed hold of him desperately, pulling as hard as he could. Infuriated, and running out of air, he felt along LeFevre's arms until he felt the rope binding his wrists, the tether to his ankles and the large sandbags. His vision was going and he needed a blade, he needed air, he needed-
Instinct drove him upward, and he gasped and spluttered when he reached the surface.
"Got him!" he managed, then took a painfully deep breath before diving down again. He managed to pull his razor from his pocket and got to work cutting one tether, fighting the water's drag as he did so. When that didn't work Cain went for the rope around his hands, sawing away, feeling the fibers give until he had to go up and breathe again - can't save him if you're the one who needs saving - then back down.
The razor slipped when it finally severed the rope, slicing into skin and Cain dropped the blade at once to pull LeFevre into his arms and kick upwards.
Cain broke the water's surface with a gasp, frantic and disoriented with the limp body a dead weight in his arms. He flailed around for a few precious moments before focusing in on Praedlyn's voice shouting instructions, urging him to the dock and Cain swam awkwardly as he tried to keep LeFevre - Ambrose, Ambrose's head above water and he really was a dead weight and this could not possibly be happening to him again.
"I'll hold him but you have to come up and help me, I can't pull him up," Praedlyn was saying, toeing that line between calm and frantic as she reached down and grabbed onto Ambrose's shoulders. "I've got him, let go, help me."
He didn't remember getting out of the river, just suddenly being up on the dock and hauling Ambrose up. White t-shirt, jeans, no shoes with the rope still tight around his ankles and one wrist and Cain was frozen while Praedlyn pressed her fingers tight to Ambrose's neck.
"He's not..." he began dully, but she glared at him.
"Don't even start," she snapped. "The brain can go six minutes without oxygen, we've still got a shot at this, now come on Cain. Two breaths, thirty compressions, repeat 'til the van gets here."
Another spike of adrenaline and Cain lurched forward, tilted Ambrose's head back with one hand, pinched his nose closed with the other, took a deep breath, and-
He was slammed back against the locker, LeFevre's body pinning him there and his mouth hot and eager against Cain's, and all Cain could do was kiss back and hold on and anyone could walk in and for once he didn't care. Zero had Jeb, he'd just been pulled off the case ("Too close," Rawlins had said sadly) and LeFevre was giving him a moment's reprieve from it all.
"We'll get him back," LeFevre had panted against his neck. "I'll get you your kid back, I promise." And he'd pulled away with a wicked grin and a gleam in his eye and left Cain alone to compose himself.
Cain should have known, he really, really should have understood that it had been a kiss goodbye. LeFevre had already planned on taking Jeb's place, to give himself up so the boy would have a chance and it was exactly the sort of noble, stupid, selfish, insane idea the idiot genius would come up with. That was two days ago, the last he'd seen him, and now-
Nothing. The air had nowhere to go, the passage was blocked (or the lungs too filled with water) and Cain took another breath, sealed their mouths together tighter, exhaled harder and Praedlyn was on with dispatch giving their location and a running commentary.
"Nothing," he reported, but his training had kicked in and he placed his hands at the center of Ambrose's chest (not too low), kept his elbows rigid and started compressions, counting off off in his head an waiting for some reason to hope.
"Might be laryngospasm," Praedlyn offered. Cain spared her a momentary glance, just enough to register that she was pale and shaking despite her calm. "Throat closes up to keep water out of the lungs, it should relax." If that's it, she didn't bother to add.
Thirty compressions, two more breaths and this time Ambrose's chest rose slightly in response. Another round ("Where are they, Lea?"), another round ("Soon, can't be long."), and Cain swore when he felt a rib crack but he kept going, and then they stopped counting until there were sirens in the distance getting closer. The next thing Cain knew he was being pulled away, a blanket roughly tossed around his shoulders while the EMTs tried to finish the work he'd started.
For a few moments everything was a blur of flashing lights and medical jargon, Praedlyn filling the first responders in as best she could while Cain caught his breath and watched them load Ambrose onto a stretcher. A defibrillator was mentioned. Praedlyn stood before Cain now, and he could finally see how shaken she was.
"I'm going in with him," she said firmly, catching his eyes with hers and making him focus. "I'm his medical proxy, I'll take care of him."
"He has a DNR order," Cain said, distant. That had been one of their serious discussions, what to do in case of an accident, or a stray bullet, or a gangster with a grudge and a bunch of sandbags.
She nodded, and reached out to grip his arm. "I know, but I know where to draw the line too." One of the EMTs called her, and she nodded. "Gotta go, one of the guys will get you-"
"I'll take him," Tudor called as he walked up the dock. Praedlyn sighed and brushed past him before breaking into a run to reach the ambulance. Tudor reached his partner and leaned in with a frown. "Cain? You all right?"
All he could do was shake his head because he was not all right, at all, the doors had slammed shut and the siren wailed as the ambulance lurched into motion, and Cain found himself starting to walk, as though he intended to follow it on foot. Tudor steered him to their car and maneuvered him into the passenger seat before getting behind the wheel, turning on the engine and lights, and throwing the car into gear.
"So run it by me," Tudor prompted once they got on the road. "Zero called you, right? What was the ransom?"
Cain's gaze was focused straight ahead. "Just a boat. We give him a boat, he gives us Am- LeFevre. Left out the part where they were leaving him at the bottom of the river."
"And you left out the part where you're supposed to get backup for this kind of thing. So you and Praedlyn go haring off, a kidnapper and murder suspect gets away thanks to police cooperation, and..." Tudor gestured over the wheel. "Well, we'll see."
"I'll take it up with Rawlins later."
"You'll take it up with me too, partner."
The rest of the ride to Stormont-Vail was silent. They were directed to the waiting room along with Praedlyn, who gave an update ("he's still with us, you did good"), and in time Rawlins arrived with Jeb and dry clothes for Cain.
Jeb was waiting outside the restroom while his father got changed, and once he was done Cain dropped the bag holding his wet clothes and shoes (the hospital had given him a pair of no-skid socks) and closed the distance to embrace his son.
"I'm sorry," Jeb mumbled. "It's my fault."
Cain stepped back with a shake of his head and settled both hands on Jeb's shoulders. "No, it's not. If anyone's to blame it's Zero."
For a moment Jeb looked guilty, then gave a slow nod of acceptance. "Ambrose is okay though, right?"
"He's alive," Cain said with with a shrug. It sounded like a correction. "That's what I heard last. They're only talking to Leona."
As though summoned Praedlyn rounded the corner behind them and huffed a sigh. She approached them with quick steps and took hold of their arms.
"We need to talk."
Cain froze. "No."
"No," she said firmly and dragged them along. "Y'all are family to him which makes you family to me, and we're gonna talk about this like a family."
She lead them to the trauma center's chapel, a small, dimly-lit room with chairs along one wall and a table with a bible and a statue of Jesus on the other, a crucifix hung on the wall overhead. The men stood by awkwardly as Praedlyn crouched and made the sign of the cross.
"I didn't know you were a believer," Cain remarked distantly.
"I'm not saying no to any help right now," she replied and gestured for them to sit, then took the chair beside Jeb. "We don't know the extent of the damage."
"Damage?" Cain repeated.
She nodded. "Aside from a couple cracked ribs and a busted lip from some yahoo giving him CPR," she began with a faint smile. "They got the water out of his lungs but it'll be a while before they clear up completely. He's breathing on his own though, it's a good start." Praedlyn sighed and ruffled her hair. "The EKG was a bit off, but that's expected. We're more worried about his brain."
Cain stared at her. "You said we had six minutes-"
"Six minutes to avoid brain death, but there's always a risk when oxygen's cut off," Praedlyn murmured. "The MRI came back clear of clots so he probably won't stroke out but... it was showing some abnormalities in activity."
"What?" Jeb whispered, very quietly.
She bit her lip, considering her words. "'Misfirings' is the best I can explain it. Something will signal in one part of his brain, and the part that should respond...won't, or it's delayed. Not all the time, plenty is doing fine, but-"
"But he's brain damaged," Cain finished and hung his head. "How bad are we talking?"
"We won't know until he wakes up," Praedlyn said. "Could be memory, could be motor skills..."
"He could be a vegetable."
"Dad!" Jeb snapped, then looked to Praedlyn for a denial. She didn't give one and he nodded, swallowed. "So... so what now?"
She explained about the coma, the monitoring, the waiting they were going to have to endure. She didn't bother mentioning they it might be for nothing and Ambrose may not wake up at all; it was clear that Cain was already convinced of that outcome. For now, Praedlyn would bear the burden of the optimist, and keep Jeb company while Cain was sent to ICU to be with Ambrose.
He stepped through the door into the private room and finally, after hours of staying on the edge, let himself be Wyatt.
So it was Wyatt who took in the details one at a time, the monitor for blood pressure and pulse, the steady drip of IV fluid, the ECG graph, the bump of Ambrose's toes at the foot of the bed, the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, the messy nest of curls his hair had dried into. Slowly Wyatt sank into the chair beside the bed, listened to the raspy sound of Ambrose's breath, noted the livid bruise on his left cheek.
"This can't be real," he said, and was amazed at how steady his voice was. Leona had told him to talk, that people in comas could hear what was happening around them. Wyatt thought it sounded like something out of a TV show and was not inclined to believe it, but he also had things he needed to say.
If there was even a small chance Ambrose would hear it, then there was no harm done.
"Why did you have to-" Wyatt cut himself off, not sure where he was going with that. Too many possibilities with innumerable answers, and if he were awake odds were Ambrose would just shrug and smile that cat-with-the-cream smile and Wyatt could picture it perfectly, had seen it hundreds of times and at some point it had gone from irritating him to making his heart beat a little faster.
His heart was pounding now, with fear and rage and something else he'd been terrified to put a name to out of foolishness.
"You'd better not- you better wake up," he snapped, almost angry. "We're not done yet, we've... I've just gotten started." He scooted the chair closer and leaned in, lowered his voice. "And if you did this because you figured I'd never catch up with you, then you're wrong." Wyatt laughed, soft and brittle. "God, that is fun to say."
He closed his eyes and willed everything away - this can't be real - and rifled through memories. The look on Ambrose's face when he delivered a key piece of evidence, his understated laugh, the confidence of his hands and Wyatt found himself holding Ambrose's left hand tight.
"I'm sorry, Ambrose," he murmured, and with his free hand tried smoothing down the tangle of curls. "I should have... I don't know. Not let you go on thinking it was just you, or that I wasn't just..." He sighed and hung his head, then gave up and closed the distance, pressing a kiss to the other man's brow. "I love you, and I'm a coward for never saying it."
Wyatt slowly drew away and looked up to find his partner standing n the doorway with his mouth hanging open in shock. They were frozen for a moment, then Wyatt dropped Ambrose's hand and shot to his feet as Tudor took a step backwards.
"Tommy-"
Tudor shook his head, turned, and quickly walked away.
With a curse Wyatt strode after him, pausing at the door for one backward glance before continuing.
"Tom!" he called. Tudor was already at the elevator, pushing the "down" call button over and over. "Tom, wait-"
"He got to you, huh?"
"What?"
Tudor spared him a moment's glare. "He got to you, with his-" and he made an abbreviated limp-wristed gesture.
Wyatt reached to grab his arm, thought better of it, and redirected to rub the back of his own neck. "God, Tommy, that's-"
"Something else for you to talk to Rawlins about," Tudor finished for him, and he all but jumped into the elevator when it finally arrived.
The doors closed, and Wyatt wondered if he needed a new partner.
*
Leona dragged him and Jeb home. She insisted that somebody should sleep and it might as well be them, she would call the moment she heard anything.
Jeb headed up the stairs first, only to stop at the half-landing.
"I told Zero who he was."
Wyatt frowned and looked up at him. "What?"
"I told him about Ambrose," Jeb said, his voice full of guilt. "And you. Who he was to you. That's probably why Zero let him take my place. I'm sorry."
Wyatt blinked and shook his head. "Is."
"Huh?"
"Who he is to me."
Jeb smiled faintly. "Right. Night, Dad."
*
The following morning Leona reported no change ("they took him off the oxygen at least") so Cain went straight to the station and straight on up to Rawlins' office. He knocked on the door, waited a moment, and went in.
"Do you want my report or my resignation?" he asked and strode to the desk.
Rawlins looked up from his keyboard and nodded to the chair that had become Cain's. "Report."
Cain set his hat on his knee and sighed. "CSI Praedlyn and I were contacted by Everrett Zevon at about three PM yesterday. Zevon told us that CSI LeFevre would be returned to us in exchange for a boat-"
"Boat?"
"Yeah," Cain sighed. "Praedlyn acquired a small motor boat, which we then took via the river to the meeting spot at the given time of five PM. OnceZevon and the two men accompanying him were on the boat we were told that LeFevre was... at the bottom of the river." He paused and shook his head. "I jumped into the water to rescue him, at which point the suspects made their escape downriver."
There was a pause as Rawlins typed some more information, then turned his gaze to the detective. Cain focused on a point above Rawlins' head and waited for his reprimand. He'd helped a suspect escape, he'd acted against orders by getting involved with the Zevon case, and he'd endangered himself as well as Praedlyn. All of this had been in the process of saving his now-comatose lover who was both a coworker and a man (either of those were potentially damning), and this fact was now more or less out in the open.
It was probably the worst possible set of results for a course of action he should never have taken.
Rawlins' expression, however, was one of soft compassion.
"Putting you on leave," the lieutenant said. "So you can be with your family."
Cain blinked. "Sir?"
"Go on," Rawlins said with a gesture towards the door. "Spoke with HR, come back when you're ready."
With a nod of thanks Cain got to his feet and departed the office.
*
Late in the morning on the following day Ambrose began to show signs of waking with the twitch of a finger and an incoherent mumble. Wyatt had taken up a vigil, wanting to be there when he came around completely. People came and went, doctors, nurses, and briefly the Droidens for awkward company.
He was already tired of people looking at him like he was a stranger.
Fortunately Jeb came by with more coffee, and maybe they were both going a little nuts but they laughed for a good while when Jeb waved his cup in front of Ambrose's face enticingly.
"Come on, man," Jeb sighed. "You owe me a Smash Brothers rematch."
There was no response.
"Just a bit longer," Wyatt said quietly.
Leona joined them for a supper of burgers smuggled in from Bobo's, then took Jeb home. Wyatt found a Rockies game on the TV and watched that for a while on mute. Just as he was dozing off Ambrose grumbled again, still nonsensical but stronger.
"Brose?" Wyatt called and got up to lean over the bed, taking the other man's hand and squeezing gently. The fingers twitched and his heart leaped. "Come on, come back."
Various expressions flicked across Ambrose's face in the next few moments, a frown, a wince, another spate of muttering and then his eyes slowly slid open. Wyatt gave a small, breathless laugh and moved is left hand to rest over Ambrose's heart.
"Good morning, sweetheart," he whispered tenderly.
Ambrose's brows drew together and he frowned, blinked, and managed to rasp four words in reply.
"Do I know you?"
blackout; "To Be Continued"
end credits
===
YOU ALL KNEW I WAS GOING THERE.