I Am Nothing Without You By My Side 1/?
Title: I Am Nothing Without You By My Side 1/?
Author: saar_fantasy
Pairing: Michael Phelps/Ryan Lochte
Rating: PG-13 (to be safe)
Warnings: major character in a coma, flashbacks to happy-and not so happy-times
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the people used in this fic. The words and the plot are mine.
Summary:Michael's at his mother's house, having his weekly dinner with his family, when he gets the news.
A/N: This is part of 'the retirement series' but this part will have more than one chapter. Takes place after Rio.
Michael's at his mother's house, having his weekly dinner with his family, when he gets the news.
The TV stood on in the background to some series that Whitney and Hilary both followed, when it was suddenly interrupted for an important newsflash.
"This news just came in that there was a plane crash near Jacksonville this evening. We don't know a lot about the situation yet, only that there are a few deaths confirmed and some severely injured. We'll come back when we have more facts."
Michael drops the plates he had been holding and was going to bring to the kitchen, his mother and sisters all stare at him with surprise and fear in their eyes.
"Michael?" Debbie asks her son, stepping closer to him to take his shaking hands into her own. "Michael. What's wrong?"
Michael's eyes are still glued to the television screen, it's only when Debbie squeezes his hands that his gaze flashes over to her.
"What's going on, Michael?" Debbie prompts gently, "What's got you so upset?"
Michael opens and closes his mouth a few times, but nothing comes out. He takes a deep breath, trying not to choke on it or break out into sobs.
"Ryan," he finally manages to choke out. "Ryan was on that plane."
Hilary and Whitney both gasp and Debbie's grip tightens on Michael's hands.
"Are you sure, honey?" Debbie tries,"Maybe it's another plane. Try and call him."
Michael shakes his head, but he does pick up his phone, presses speed dial nr. 1, then holds it to his ear. Nothing.
"It's his plane, mom. I can feel it. And he doesn't pick up his phone."
"Ok," Debbie says, knowing she has to take control before her son loses it. "We have to stay calm now, sweetheart. I'll call the people of the news, see if they have found out to which hospital they are taking the survivors."
Michael nods, then lets himself be steered into Hilary's arms and just stays numb while she hugs him tight and whispers comforting nonsense into his ear.
All he can think of is Ryan and pray he's one of the survivors.
--++--
Debbie gets Bob to actually get them a helicopter, because no plane is going to Jacksonville that night anymore because of the crash, and she leaves with Michael and a duffel bag with some stuff from both Michael and Ryan, telling the pilot to go as fast as he can.
Once they have landed as close as they can to the hospital, Debbie has already called them a cab. She planned everything out beforehand, just to not have to put more stress on her son.
As soon as the cabdraver stops in front of the hospital, Michael is running inside and up to the nurses' desk.
"Where are the victims of the plane crash?" he all but demands. The nurse startles a little when she recognizes him.
"They're putting them in a room over there," she points over her shoulder to one of the rooms behind her. "But if they're critical, they've taken them straight to the OR. Was there omeone you know on that plane, mr. Phelps?"
"Yes," Michael breathes out quickly. "Yes, I do. Ryan. Ryan Lochte."
The nurse's eyes widen and she's out of her seat in no time. "Follow me. I'll lead you to the room so you can see if he's there."
Debbie catches up with them when they've reached the room and Michael grabs her hand before they enter.
'Please. Let Ryan be here.'
Once the door opens, they're greeted by the sight of doctors and nurses rushing around, the sound of machines beeping and the moans and groan from the patients.
"Take your time with looking around." the nurse says, then leaves them alone to back to her desk because she can't leave it empty too long.
Michael is just standing, so Debbie has to tug on his hand to get him to move around the room and look for Ryan. Only to find out that he's not there...
"He's...He's not here, mom." Michael says quietly, but Debbie can feel the panic in him start to rise.
"Maybe they've taken him to the OR."
"But what if they didn't, mom?" there it is...Michael's voice is rising until he's all but screaming out the last part. "What if he's dead?"
Heads turn to look at them, then one nurse says something to a doctor and makes her way over to them.
"See, Michael," Debbie says, squeezing his hand. "That nurse probably knows more and is gonna tell us now where Ryan is."
Michael doesn't dare to hope too much...
"You're looking for mr. Lochte?"
"Yes," Michael rushes out, "Where is he? Is he alive? Where the hell is he?"
"Calm yourself, Michael!" Debbie says sternly, but the nurse seems to understand Michael's reaction.
"He is still alive." she smiles when she hears Michael's breath of relief. "Once we found out who he was, we put him in a seperated room from the others. If you'll follow me, the doctor will be able to tell you more about his condition."
Michael wants to ask more, but Debbie squeezes his hand to silence him and they both follow the nurse to a second door, where a doctor is already waiting for them.
"How is Ryan?" Michael asks when he's shaking the doctor's hand, not even bothering with introductions. Debbie's ready to reprimand him again but the doctor just chuckles.
"Good day, mr. Phelps, I'm doctor Ross and mr. Lochte is alright in the sense that he's still alive and breathing."
"Are his injuries that bad?"
"Not physically, no. A few bruised ribs, one broken but not unrepairably, a few cuts and scratches. The problem is, your partner, if it's ok I call him that, because basically...he is, hit his head pretty hard and he's in a coma. He's hooked up onto machines that will keep his vitals under a watchful eye and we're gonna keep an eye on him as much as we can too, of course."
A coma...Well, at least he wasn't dead.
"Can I see him?"
"Of course," the doctor answers and opens the door, "Go ahead. Don't be afraid of all the wires."
Michael takes a deep breath, then steps inside, gripping onto the handles of the duffel bag and his mother's hand just a little tighter than before. Stepping towards the bed with the machine and all the wires, Michael notices howweird it is to see Ryan lying there, no movement at all except for the slow rising and falling of his chest, like he's just sleeping. Well, technically, he is. He's just probably not gonna wake up the next morning. Although Michael surely hopes that he will...
"Take your time, mr. Phelps." the doctor speaks from outside the doorway, "I'll still be here later on if you still have questions."
Michael nods and the doctor gives him a supporting smile before closing the door. Michael drops the duffel and lets go of his mother's hand before sitting down on the edge of Ryan's hospital bed, then lets one of his hands stroke slowly through Ryan's short curls.
Debbie watches her son for a little while, knowing that he's on the verge of an emotional breakdown, she puts her hand on his shoulder to get his attention without him having to look away from his boyfriend, because she knows that he can't.
"I'm gonna go outside and call his mother. She probably doesn't know that Ryan was on that plane and te hospital staff probably didn't have the time yet to call her because she would already be here then. You want me to bring you something back to drink?"
Michael shakes his head, "No, thanks."
"Ok," Debbie says softly, then squeezes his shoulder gently, "I'll leave you two alone then."
Michael jerks his head in affirmative, then waits until he hears his mother's footsteps walking away and the sound of the door closing before he finally lets go of his resolve.
He shifts on the bed, then leans forward so his forehead touches Ryan's, his one hand still in his curls, and lets the tears fall.
"God, Ry." he whispers against Ryan's ear, "I was so scared...So fucking scared that you were dead. But you're not. Thank God, you're not." He presses his lips even closer to Ryan's ear. "Now you'll just have to fight you're way through this coma, but I know you can, because you are a fighter Ryan Lochte." he pauses when another set of tears trail down his cheeks, then he uses a name he hasn't used for a while. "You just have to wake up. Please, Doggy. I can't do this without you."
What 'this' exactly meant, he didn't really know, but he didn't care either. He felt like he couldn't do anything without Ryan; 'this' was just the best word he could think of to use right now.
Author: saar_fantasy
Pairing: Michael Phelps/Ryan Lochte
Rating: PG-13 (to be safe)
Warnings: major character in a coma, flashbacks to happy-and not so happy-times
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the people used in this fic. The words and the plot are mine.
Summary:Michael's at his mother's house, having his weekly dinner with his family, when he gets the news.
A/N: This is part of 'the retirement series' but this part will have more than one chapter. Takes place after Rio.
Michael's at his mother's house, having his weekly dinner with his family, when he gets the news.
The TV stood on in the background to some series that Whitney and Hilary both followed, when it was suddenly interrupted for an important newsflash.
"This news just came in that there was a plane crash near Jacksonville this evening. We don't know a lot about the situation yet, only that there are a few deaths confirmed and some severely injured. We'll come back when we have more facts."
Michael drops the plates he had been holding and was going to bring to the kitchen, his mother and sisters all stare at him with surprise and fear in their eyes.
"Michael?" Debbie asks her son, stepping closer to him to take his shaking hands into her own. "Michael. What's wrong?"
Michael's eyes are still glued to the television screen, it's only when Debbie squeezes his hands that his gaze flashes over to her.
"What's going on, Michael?" Debbie prompts gently, "What's got you so upset?"
Michael opens and closes his mouth a few times, but nothing comes out. He takes a deep breath, trying not to choke on it or break out into sobs.
"Ryan," he finally manages to choke out. "Ryan was on that plane."
Hilary and Whitney both gasp and Debbie's grip tightens on Michael's hands.
"Are you sure, honey?" Debbie tries,"Maybe it's another plane. Try and call him."
Michael shakes his head, but he does pick up his phone, presses speed dial nr. 1, then holds it to his ear. Nothing.
"It's his plane, mom. I can feel it. And he doesn't pick up his phone."
"Ok," Debbie says, knowing she has to take control before her son loses it. "We have to stay calm now, sweetheart. I'll call the people of the news, see if they have found out to which hospital they are taking the survivors."
Michael nods, then lets himself be steered into Hilary's arms and just stays numb while she hugs him tight and whispers comforting nonsense into his ear.
All he can think of is Ryan and pray he's one of the survivors.
--++--
Debbie gets Bob to actually get them a helicopter, because no plane is going to Jacksonville that night anymore because of the crash, and she leaves with Michael and a duffel bag with some stuff from both Michael and Ryan, telling the pilot to go as fast as he can.
Once they have landed as close as they can to the hospital, Debbie has already called them a cab. She planned everything out beforehand, just to not have to put more stress on her son.
As soon as the cabdraver stops in front of the hospital, Michael is running inside and up to the nurses' desk.
"Where are the victims of the plane crash?" he all but demands. The nurse startles a little when she recognizes him.
"They're putting them in a room over there," she points over her shoulder to one of the rooms behind her. "But if they're critical, they've taken them straight to the OR. Was there omeone you know on that plane, mr. Phelps?"
"Yes," Michael breathes out quickly. "Yes, I do. Ryan. Ryan Lochte."
The nurse's eyes widen and she's out of her seat in no time. "Follow me. I'll lead you to the room so you can see if he's there."
Debbie catches up with them when they've reached the room and Michael grabs her hand before they enter.
'Please. Let Ryan be here.'
Once the door opens, they're greeted by the sight of doctors and nurses rushing around, the sound of machines beeping and the moans and groan from the patients.
"Take your time with looking around." the nurse says, then leaves them alone to back to her desk because she can't leave it empty too long.
Michael is just standing, so Debbie has to tug on his hand to get him to move around the room and look for Ryan. Only to find out that he's not there...
"He's...He's not here, mom." Michael says quietly, but Debbie can feel the panic in him start to rise.
"Maybe they've taken him to the OR."
"But what if they didn't, mom?" there it is...Michael's voice is rising until he's all but screaming out the last part. "What if he's dead?"
Heads turn to look at them, then one nurse says something to a doctor and makes her way over to them.
"See, Michael," Debbie says, squeezing his hand. "That nurse probably knows more and is gonna tell us now where Ryan is."
Michael doesn't dare to hope too much...
"You're looking for mr. Lochte?"
"Yes," Michael rushes out, "Where is he? Is he alive? Where the hell is he?"
"Calm yourself, Michael!" Debbie says sternly, but the nurse seems to understand Michael's reaction.
"He is still alive." she smiles when she hears Michael's breath of relief. "Once we found out who he was, we put him in a seperated room from the others. If you'll follow me, the doctor will be able to tell you more about his condition."
Michael wants to ask more, but Debbie squeezes his hand to silence him and they both follow the nurse to a second door, where a doctor is already waiting for them.
"How is Ryan?" Michael asks when he's shaking the doctor's hand, not even bothering with introductions. Debbie's ready to reprimand him again but the doctor just chuckles.
"Good day, mr. Phelps, I'm doctor Ross and mr. Lochte is alright in the sense that he's still alive and breathing."
"Are his injuries that bad?"
"Not physically, no. A few bruised ribs, one broken but not unrepairably, a few cuts and scratches. The problem is, your partner, if it's ok I call him that, because basically...he is, hit his head pretty hard and he's in a coma. He's hooked up onto machines that will keep his vitals under a watchful eye and we're gonna keep an eye on him as much as we can too, of course."
A coma...Well, at least he wasn't dead.
"Can I see him?"
"Of course," the doctor answers and opens the door, "Go ahead. Don't be afraid of all the wires."
Michael takes a deep breath, then steps inside, gripping onto the handles of the duffel bag and his mother's hand just a little tighter than before. Stepping towards the bed with the machine and all the wires, Michael notices howweird it is to see Ryan lying there, no movement at all except for the slow rising and falling of his chest, like he's just sleeping. Well, technically, he is. He's just probably not gonna wake up the next morning. Although Michael surely hopes that he will...
"Take your time, mr. Phelps." the doctor speaks from outside the doorway, "I'll still be here later on if you still have questions."
Michael nods and the doctor gives him a supporting smile before closing the door. Michael drops the duffel and lets go of his mother's hand before sitting down on the edge of Ryan's hospital bed, then lets one of his hands stroke slowly through Ryan's short curls.
Debbie watches her son for a little while, knowing that he's on the verge of an emotional breakdown, she puts her hand on his shoulder to get his attention without him having to look away from his boyfriend, because she knows that he can't.
"I'm gonna go outside and call his mother. She probably doesn't know that Ryan was on that plane and te hospital staff probably didn't have the time yet to call her because she would already be here then. You want me to bring you something back to drink?"
Michael shakes his head, "No, thanks."
"Ok," Debbie says softly, then squeezes his shoulder gently, "I'll leave you two alone then."
Michael jerks his head in affirmative, then waits until he hears his mother's footsteps walking away and the sound of the door closing before he finally lets go of his resolve.
He shifts on the bed, then leans forward so his forehead touches Ryan's, his one hand still in his curls, and lets the tears fall.
"God, Ry." he whispers against Ryan's ear, "I was so scared...So fucking scared that you were dead. But you're not. Thank God, you're not." He presses his lips even closer to Ryan's ear. "Now you'll just have to fight you're way through this coma, but I know you can, because you are a fighter Ryan Lochte." he pauses when another set of tears trail down his cheeks, then he uses a name he hasn't used for a while. "You just have to wake up. Please, Doggy. I can't do this without you."
What 'this' exactly meant, he didn't really know, but he didn't care either. He felt like he couldn't do anything without Ryan; 'this' was just the best word he could think of to use right now.