Chapter Text
As much as hospitals are the last place he wants to spend his time, Roger isn’t going to leave until Mark is discharged.
Hopefully it won’t take too long. Mark is fully awake and moving now. The first doctor did some neurological tests, first moving Mark’s arms for him, then getting Mark to touch his fingers together to see if he could move on his own. Then Mark had to press his arm against the doctor’s hand, then flex and bend his toes, then stand up and walk across the room. Roger can’t help but feel terrified of the implications: in certain circumstances, Mark may not have been able to do those things.
Roger tries them out himself. They’re simple movements that he almost takes for granted. The idea of losing them sends a shiver down his spine.
The young doctor leaves, assuring them his boss will come in any minute and do his own exam. Mark nods and smiles, but as soon as the door closes, he slumps back against the pillows with a sigh. “Jeez.”
“You okay?”
“I don’t know.” He keeps his gaze trained on the ceiling. “That was so strange.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know when your hands or feet fall asleep, and then you have that really painful pins-and-needles feeling?”
Roger nods. “Yeah. I hate that.”
“When the doctor moved my arms, that’s what I felt.” Mark sighs and shakes his head. “Just… pins and needles. Through my whole arm. And then in my legs. It hurt to walk.”
“Oh.”
“I mean, I don’t know what I can do about it.”
With that, he rolls over in the bed, turning his back to Roger.
Roger keeps an eye on the heart monitor as Mark lays there, quiet and still. Every once in a while, he finds himself about to drift off to sleep, but then the beeping sound permeates his awareness, and he shifts in his chair, desperate to stay awake. Just in case anything happens.
It feels like it’s been hours—in reality, it’s not even thirty minutes—when there’s a knock on the door, and Joanne pokes her head in. At the sight of Mark facing away, she whispers, “Oh, is he asleep?”
Roger shrugs. “Not sure.”
“Well, Collins is here.” She pushes the door open the rest of the way and walks in.
Roger stands up and smiles weakly at Collins. “Hey, Tom.”
“Hey, Rog.” Collins wraps him in a tight hug, and for a moment, Roger feels like he might cry. He’s kept it together reasonably well, only nearly losing his composure when the paramedics said he wasn’t allowed in the ambulance and he and Joanne had to walk to the hospital. He leans into Collins’ embrace, feeling some of his worry fade simply from the presence of his loved ones.
“How you feeling?” Collins says, releasing Roger.
Roger shrugs. “Honestly? I’ve felt worse.” When Collins raises an eyebrow, he continues, “I’m trying not to think too much, otherwise I might lose my mind.”
Collins nods. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want that.” Then he gestures towards the bed. “How’s he doing?”
“He woke up a little while ago.” Roger turns and gazes at his boyfriend. “Said he’s tired, though. So I’m letting him sleep.”
“I can hear you, y’know.”
Roger jumps slightly. “Jesus, Mark!”
Mark rolls onto his back and smiles. “Hey, Tom.”
Collins laughs. “Damn you, Mark Cohen. Scaring us like this.”
Someone knocks on the door and opens it slightly. It’s another doctor.
“Let’s get outta here, Jo,” Collins says, holding the door open for Joanne. He flashes a thumbs-up towards Mark, who weakly returns the gesture.
“So, Mr. Cohen.” The doctor looks at his clipboard. “How are you feeling?”
Mark blinks a few times, as if he’s trying to focus on the doctor’s face. “I’m… tired.”
“That’s very understandable. Now, do you know why you’re here today?”
“Because I passed out. Or something.”
“Do you think you can tell me what you remember from today?”
Mark hesitates and glances at Roger. “Um. I don’t really remember much of it.”
“That’s okay. Just tell me what you can.”
“I was just really tired all day. And I was trying to sleep, but I got overheated. And everything felt weird.” He shakes his head. “Sorry. I don’t know how to explain it.”
Roger gently squeezes Mark’s hand.
The doctor asks so many questions.
Has this ever happened before?
Mark stays silent for a moment, before saying he’s not sure. “Something similar… once or twice. Not exactly the same. Not this bad.”
Are you taking medications?
“Yes. Antidepressants.”
When was the last time you ate? And what did you eat?
“I don’t remember.”
The more questions he gets asked, the more distressed Mark seems. After a while, the doctor seems to notice too, because he says, “I’ll go get the nurse to see how your blood results look,” and leaves the room.
Roger reaches over and takes Mark’s hand. “It’ll be okay, baby. I got you. I’m right here.”
“Yeah.” Mark nods, but his eyes are distracted, focused on nothing.
Carefully, Roger presses a kiss to Mark’s temple. “You’re okay. I’m here.”
The blood results come back normal. It’s not as reassuring as it should be. Because it’s not an answer.
The second doctor comes back, asks a few more questions. Mark barely gives verbal answers, instead shaking his head or nodding more often than not. It’s still enough to satisfy the doctor, though.
There isn’t exactly a diagnosis. The doctor suspects it was all caused by a combination of poor nutrition, dehydration, and anxiety. Mark doesn’t seem surprised in the least. He doesn’t show any emotion at all, not even when the doctor adds on that he’s clear to leave the hospital.
When the doctor leaves the room, Roger comes and gives Mark a gentle hug. He can feel him shaking in his embrace, so he sits on the edge of the bed and hugs him a little tighter. Then he feels Mark gripping his arm and hears a quiet cry. “Oh, Mark…”
That’s too much for Mark; he slumps against Roger’s chest, his body wracked with silent sobs.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Roger whispers as Mark begins mumbling the same two words over and over. “This isn’t your fault, okay?”
“But what if it is?” Mark can hardly speak. “What if I could have avoided this?”
“Don’t say that. You heard what the doctor said, right? He thinks it has to do with anxiety. That’s not something you can control.”
“But…” Mark chokes on the word a little bit. “But I thought I was doing better. I’m trying to do better.”
“I know you’re trying, my love.”
“I just… I’m supposed to be the strong one. I’m supposed to be there for you when things happen.”
“Hey, if this happened a thousand times, I would always be here for you.”
A thousand times would be too many. But it’s the thought that counts.
When it happens again, a week later, they’re both a little more prepared. Once Mark is aware of his surroundings and able to move, Roger talks him through small motions and holds him as he cries.
When it happens again, this time at dinner with their friends, Mark manages to nudge Roger’s shoulder hard enough to get his attention before collapsing against him, and Roger knows how to react. He helps Mark stay upright in his seat, then carries him piggyback on the way home.
It didn’t happen a thousand times. But Roger kept his promise: he was there, right by Mark’s side. Every time. No matter what.