show &#x27;em what you&#x27;re made of

He didn't mind that Kerry was endeared by his reaction. It didn't stop him from meaning every word. Vik had already seen some pretty ridiculous levels of impatience from managers and staff and the like, during his latter days in the ring then especially when he hung up his gloves to treat his former peers. He doubted that pressure to perform was any easier for musicians as well-known as Kerry. Someone had to be in his partner's corner; facing it alone could be overwhelming.

Vik adjusted a little to lean in for a gentle kiss to Kerry's cheek. "Wish I could too. Just wanna get lost in you for a while." Drown out that sound haunting his mind with far prettier noises. Remind himself he wasn't as useless or helpless as he'd felt the past day or so. "If I hadn't come here in an AV, I'd sweep you off as soon as you're cleared 'n have us a little home vacation," Vik added with a light, warm laugh.

He lifted his hand from Kerry's, but only to brush a stray lock of silver away from his partner's forehead, then carefully rested his palm just to one side of the heart monitor stuck to the man's chest. "Might still do that, no matter when you come home. Take a week and spend it however we want, just you 'n me."

Wasn't that just a pretty dream?

One that could come true if his producers decided his health was more important than the tour. All at once, Kerry wanted the best of both worlds. When wasn't he as greedy as could be, really? To tour, to have Vik at the end of the night... Still, somehow he doubted he'd be allowed that luxury. Or maybe Vik would insist he stay if he was "forced" to keep touring.

Nevertheless, a little "home vacation" didn't sound so bad either. Exactly the opposite, really. At that point all he did wanna do was rest. Having Vik home for a whole week, at that? Man. That sounded like a privilege he couldn't possibly pass up if he were presented with it.

But, that would be a decision that would come later. He'd figure it, he guessed.

"Would be nice... been missin' my own bed, big time. My nice warm body pillow, too," Kerry remarked, allowing his head to rest back against the bed and lull to the side so he could look at Vik. He'd offer him a tired smile.

"...Guess we'll cross that bridge once we get to it, though. Same with tellin' everyone 'm back to bein' on this side'a sane. Really don't need anyone bitchin' at me, whether they're the tour manager or my adult kid," he heaved out a heavy sigh, then brought his hand up to rub his eyes briefly.

"Or Silverhand. I'm sure you've heard plenty from all three, huh?" Maybe that was too optimistic. Johnny loved to pretend like he didn't give a shit, and Kelvy had her work keeping her busy all the time... Nah, Vik's probably heard way too much from the staff of the tour more than anyone else.

Vik didn't want or need an answer to his suggestion right away. Sure, he'd do his damnedest to make it happen if Kerry agreed - and probably still insist on a couple days' relaxation if not - but it wasn't the most vital of decisions right now. More than anything, it was a way to luxuriate a little longer in some calm before reality could cut in.

So Vik let slip a quieter chuckle this time. "Yeah, your nice warm body pillow's been missin' you too." His tone was humored but his expression sincere as he brushed curled fingers over Kerry's cheek, thumb lingering a moment at the decorative chrome under one eye.

He didn't blame his partner for wanting to hold off on the news of improvement, either. It was a bit thorny, since it seemed kind of unfair to Désirée and Kearney in particular when they were so concerned - but to be honest, there were plenty of other doctors and nurses around to tell them. He knew from experience that though the hospital staff would advise going easy on Kerry, the tour staff would likely push right past.

"Mh, a bit," Vik tipped up one shoulder. "I think they've mostly talked to Désirée, but she did tell me a few hours ago that Kelvy and Silverhand saw the footage goin' around and checked in with her. She can update 'em after you feel up to talkin' with her and the rest."

Vik didn't need perfect words; those were impossible to come up with, much less convey. That Kerry heard him and understood, that he wasn't alone anymore while drifting through this feeling... it was enough for Vik, too.

A bit more lingering tension unwound from his back and shoulders when Kerry's hand rested over his. Man, as soon as it'd be safe to do so, Vik would wrap his partner up in the biggest, tightest hug. He probably wouldn't let go for a good while, either, not until or unless Kerry complained.

"That other shit should wait." Vik's insistence was soft - and kind of selfish, though not so much that he'd walk it back. Kerry was still bedridden, still had a broken arm, and had only recently regained mental clarity. If anyone barged in right now insisting on talking tour, Vik might threaten them. Nonetheless, reason cut in. "...But even if it doesn't, you don't hafta deal with it on your own. I'm not goin' anywhere, sweetheart."

A breath of laughter escaped Kerry. That hand cradling Vik's brought Vik's hand down to his lip, pressing a soft kiss to his palm before bringing it back up to allow the caressing to continue. Man, he was so cute. He loved him, probably too much. He always sorta felt like he was setting himself up for failure, let himself have something like this again. But how could he ever hope to resist when Vik made him so happy?

"Yer so cute when y'get all guard dog," Kerry jested, another short giggle tumbled out. Reminded him of-- okay, that needed to stop immediately. Comparing almost never went well, even when harmless. It was just nice, really having someone on his side again. Vik had basically always been like that, ever since he met him, but it never stopped the warmth from spreading in his chest.

The fact that Vik was there, and had no plans to go anywhere was such a damn relief. He knew how him being away from the clinic had gotten better with time, but he also knew still how he clung to his work. Kerry never doubted that Vik would be there in situations like these, when he really needed him, but it still felt like such a relief. Being along in that room would've been hell, even if they'd still have been able to have their calls.

"Good... wouldn't be able t'do it without ya." That shit would come with time, but he did hope they could just be left alone for a while. He was still so damn tired, his head still pretty foggy. Rest, contacting Louise, the kids, V, 'n' Johnny... then maybe he could start entertaining the idea of whether he wanted to keep going on with the tour or not.

As much as he knew he needed to just let it be for the time being, Kerry couldn't push the thought of what was gonna happen too far from his mind. The fate of tour, what he wanted to do... but also, what about everything else?

God, he really just needed to relax.

"Ugh, I just wanna be home. Want you t'help me forget all this shit goin' on." What he would give to not remember his own name in that moment.

He didn't mind that Kerry was endeared by his reaction. It didn't stop him from meaning every word. Vik had already seen some pretty ridiculous levels of impatience from managers and staff and the like, during his latter days in the ring then especially when he hung up his gloves to treat his former peers. He doubted that pressure to perform was any easier for musicians as well-known as Kerry. Someone had to be in his partner's corner; facing it alone could be overwhelming.

Vik adjusted a little to lean in for a gentle kiss to Kerry's cheek. "Wish I could too. Just wanna get lost in you for a while." Drown out that sound haunting his mind with far prettier noises. Remind himself he wasn't as useless or helpless as he'd felt the past day or so. "If I hadn't come here in an AV, I'd sweep you off as soon as you're cleared 'n have us a little home vacation," Vik added with a light, warm laugh.

He lifted his hand from Kerry's, but only to brush a stray lock of silver away from his partner's forehead, then carefully rested his palm just to one side of the heart monitor stuck to the man's chest. "Might still do that, no matter when you come home. Take a week and spend it however we want, just you 'n me."

He could definitely understand how Kerry, especially in a more unsteady mental state than Vik had been, might push back against the yawning silence in all kinds of ways. He'd never stop being grateful to V for helping Kerry keep going.

But right now, that damn sound just wouldn't stop haunting him. A part of Vik wished he'd stepped away into another room, or had the TV muted, or the mics had cut out, something, anything so he wouldn't have to struggle to forget how sudden and chilling helplessness hollowed out his stomach.

Vik's eyes shut a bit tighter for a moment or two, while he pressed into that gentle touch and its familiar calluses. They only opened when Kerry's hand retreated. Any thought of apologizing for clinging too hard vanished at the sight of his partner scooting to one side of the bed. Making room. Didn't have to tell him twice.

Though there weren't too many wires, Vik was still careful just in case. He settled next to Kerry, turned on his side to face the other man with one arm cushioning his own head. His opposite hand cradled Kerry's cheek, and a soft sigh escaped as Vik's hint of embarrassment was drowned out by relief and loving concern.

"All I could do was sit 'n watch it happen," Vik added in a low whisper, a little pain lingering on his face. "It's no one's fault, and I'm not tryin' to push Kearney outta his job. It's just... I saw you hurt, and I couldn't fix it." His voice wavered a little, until he eased most of it with a swallow. "Haven't felt that helpless since the last time I set foot in a hospital."

"...I know, Vik." That helpless feeling was something he had too much experience with. He supposed that at least he didn't have a singular noise stuck in his head regarding those moments. Not anymore, at least. "Fuckin' sucks, not bein' able t'do anything. But yer here, I'm here. Way more than enough fer me, really." It was just about all the verbal comfort he could give him. Words wouldn't be helpful, they rarely were-- or, at least that was how it was for him.

Sometimes you just needed to feel it for a while. Let it exist. Let it pass, but likely never feel it truly fade.

Kerry brought his uninjured hand up to stroke the back of Vik's hand with his thumb again. It was about as much physical affection as he could personally manage without straight up leaning against him and potentially hurting his arm further. He just needed to reciprocate that touch.

"Things'll only get better from here. ...My health wise anyway. Dunno 'bout any of the other shit goin' on around us, though." God, that was gonna be the biggest mess, but that was fine. At least he was there to deal with the mess. Didn't make him any happier to be dealing with that mess, though.

Vik didn't need perfect words; those were impossible to come up with, much less convey. That Kerry heard him and understood, that he wasn't alone anymore while drifting through this feeling... it was enough for Vik, too.

A bit more lingering tension unwound from his back and shoulders when Kerry's hand rested over his. Man, as soon as it'd be safe to do so, Vik would wrap his partner up in the biggest, tightest hug. He probably wouldn't let go for a good while, either, not until or unless Kerry complained.

"That other shit should wait." Vik's insistence was soft - and kind of selfish, though not so much that he'd walk it back. Kerry was still bedridden, still had a broken arm, and had only recently regained mental clarity. If anyone barged in right now insisting on talking tour, Vik might threaten them. Nonetheless, reason cut in. "...But even if it doesn't, you don't hafta deal with it on your own. I'm not goin' anywhere, sweetheart."

Continuing the tour was the last thing on his mind right now. Far as Vik was concerned, he thought the best course would be to cancel it and give Kerry more time to fully recover. He also knew, though, that he probably didn't carry any weight with his partner's tour staff; it'd depend more on what Dr. Kearney's decision would be.

So without much or any ability to really change that outcome, for now Vik would rather focus on helping Kerry get better.

He leaned a bit more into the hand on his cheek, eyes closing for an indulgent moment. Even just hearing those three simple words was a balm, after too many fraught hours. It helped his laugh emerge as a clearer chuckle this time, and their eyes met once again. "That's damn tempting."

Vik's expression gentled while his touch skimmed down just a little to Kerry's wrist, finding comfort in that steady pulse beneath his fingers. "Love you too, Ker. And I've missed you just as bad. House feels bigger, when you're away." Emptier.

He caught himself, his look turning a bit sheepish. "Sorry. I don't wanna push you one way or the other on this, 'specially when that decision's gonna wait 'til you're better. I just..." Vik debated briefly whether to bring it up again, now that Kerry's mind had cleared. "When I watched you fall, I... I can't get the sound of it outta my head." A faint, wry scoff at himself. "All the shit I've seen - as a ripperdoc, in the ring, even before then - but it's that one thing I can't..." He trailed off, pressing his lips to Kerry's palm again and shutting his eyes.

"Startin' t'get why I was losin' my mind in that house before you moved in, huh?" A slight tease, but with way too much truth behind it. The silence that came with such a huge, empty house had actively helped him deteriorate. An active reason as to why he'd gotten as bad as he had before meeting Vik.

At least they'd had their daily calls, texts. Kerry had hoped that made the silence a little less suffocating.

Whatever teasing and humor he'd attempted to keep the air light went up in smoke, though, as he listened to Vik. His heart ached for him. He rarely saw Vik getting like this, so upset. There'd probably on been a small handful of times since they'd gotten together that he'd seen it. Seeing it applied to him now... He felt a little guilty. Not like he could've done much when he hadn't known what was going on in the first place, but still.

He could imagine how he felt, unfortunately. Kerry had at least felt something similar before, probably. A few incidents with Johnny 'n' the terror that came with instances of almost losing him in front of his own eyes.

"Oh, hon'..." Kerry breathed, honestly unsure of what else he could say. "C'mere, Vik..." Gently, he took his hand back so he could adjust himself on the bed. Scooting over toward the right edge of the bed to provide more of an empty space. With his plan and status, his hospital was a bit more spacious than most. Not by a ton, but enough to where it could probably hold two people. Kerry's uninjured left hand patted the empty space beside him, offering the space up to his love.

He could definitely understand how Kerry, especially in a more unsteady mental state than Vik had been, might push back against the yawning silence in all kinds of ways. He'd never stop being grateful to V for helping Kerry keep going.

But right now, that damn sound just wouldn't stop haunting him. A part of Vik wished he'd stepped away into another room, or had the TV muted, or the mics had cut out, something, anything so he wouldn't have to struggle to forget how sudden and chilling helplessness hollowed out his stomach.

Vik's eyes shut a bit tighter for a moment or two, while he pressed into that gentle touch and its familiar calluses. They only opened when Kerry's hand retreated. Any thought of apologizing for clinging too hard vanished at the sight of his partner scooting to one side of the bed. Making room. Didn't have to tell him twice.

Though there weren't too many wires, Vik was still careful just in case. He settled next to Kerry, turned on his side to face the other man with one arm cushioning his own head. His opposite hand cradled Kerry's cheek, and a soft sigh escaped as Vik's hint of embarrassment was drowned out by relief and loving concern.

"All I could do was sit 'n watch it happen," Vik added in a low whisper, a little pain lingering on his face. "It's no one's fault, and I'm not tryin' to push Kearney outta his job. It's just... I saw you hurt, and I couldn't fix it." His voice wavered a little, until he eased most of it with a swallow. "Haven't felt that helpless since the last time I set foot in a hospital."

He was too mentally and emotionally wrung out to manage rehashing a more detailed explanation, so part of Vik was glad Kerry didn't ask further questions. It wasn't clear how much he'd be able to coherently describe, or how much of it Kerry might retain. Later. For now, Vik was still privately basking in his partner recognizing him again.

"That's pretty normal, for where you are in your recovery," he assured, smoothing his thumb over Kerry's knuckles. "Don't strain yourself over it." Something else he wasn't keen to elaborate on, all the stress and fear and worry only to come in and endure hours of being treated like a stranger. It wasn't anyone's fault. Vik just needed to soothe his frayed nerves for a little while, preferably like this.

This time, Vik did manage a short, quiet huff of subtle humor through his nose and a little flick of of a smirk, before his expression also sobered. "I know. None of us did; Kearney's been beatin' himself up over not catching it. I kinda have too," he admitted. "But, I'm tryin' to remind myself what matters more is you got here in time." When he lifted Kerry's hand, he leaned down partway to kiss the heel of the other man's palm, and pressed his cheek into it. "So you're right." Their gazes met once more, and Vik mustered a small yet steady smile full of fondness. "I'm too sorry and too relieved to give you any kinda earful. ...At least for now," he gently teased, half joking.

They'd just have to look into what was wrong after he was out of there, he guessed. Not like Vik or Kearney both could do too much while they were there, and no doubt it needed to be dealt with before he could go on with the rest of the tour. If he could go on for the rest of the tour.

Buuuut somehow he doubted Vik wanted to talk about that either. Leave all'a that shit for when he was actually better, rather than just starting to get better.

Kerry couldn't help the smile peeking from the corners of his lips when Vik kissed the heel of his palm. Man, that affectionate man of his. Always knew how to send his heart and his head crazy.

He gently stroked his thumb over Viktor's cheek, reciprocating that small, fond smile. Poor guy looked as tired as he felt.

"I'll take what I can get," Kerry remarked fondly, cradling Vik's cheek gently. "I love you... 'm almost tempted t'just go home with you after all of this. Been missin' you like crazy." The roar of crowds kept those thoughts at bay most often, but now with Vik right in front of him... the pull of home was definitely on his mind. Ooo, his manager would be pissed if they heard that.

"Or maybe you could ride along with us. Really terrorize the staff," he teased softly. He knew it was far too early for any of that kind of conversation, but eh. A clingy man could dream.

Continuing the tour was the last thing on his mind right now. Far as Vik was concerned, he thought the best course would be to cancel it and give Kerry more time to fully recover. He also knew, though, that he probably didn't carry any weight with his partner's tour staff; it'd depend more on what Dr. Kearney's decision would be.

So without much or any ability to really change that outcome, for now Vik would rather focus on helping Kerry get better.

He leaned a bit more into the hand on his cheek, eyes closing for an indulgent moment. Even just hearing those three simple words was a balm, after too many fraught hours. It helped his laugh emerge as a clearer chuckle this time, and their eyes met once again. "That's damn tempting."

Vik's expression gentled while his touch skimmed down just a little to Kerry's wrist, finding comfort in that steady pulse beneath his fingers. "Love you too, Ker. And I've missed you just as bad. House feels bigger, when you're away." Emptier.

He caught himself, his look turning a bit sheepish. "Sorry. I don't wanna push you one way or the other on this, 'specially when that decision's gonna wait 'til you're better. I just..." Vik debated briefly whether to bring it up again, now that Kerry's mind had cleared. "When I watched you fall, I... I can't get the sound of it outta my head." A faint, wry scoff at himself. "All the shit I've seen - as a ripperdoc, in the ring, even before then - but it's that one thing I can't..." He trailed off, pressing his lips to Kerry's palm again and shutting his eyes.

Vik expected the tinge of confusion in Kerry's look and gave a gentle squeeze to his partner's hand, to try and comfort them both. Kerry's initial question sounded half-rhetorical, but he nodded all the same. He could almost picture the wheels turning in the other's head, and hoped there wasn't any guilt fueling them.

While Vik didn't join in on that attempt at a joke, he also decided against chiding Kerry for it. The atmosphere had been pretty heavy for a while now, weighing in Vik's expression as much as the air around them; understandable that his partner would want to clear it.

Instead, he chose to explain again, after lifting Kerry's hand to his lips for a brief gentle kiss. "It's not unusual for those parts o' your memory to be kinda foggy. You had a thyroid storm, knocked you over maybe halfway through your set. You fell, uh... pretty hard, right there on stage." Vik still couldn't get that damn sound out of his head. "That's what got your arm. Kearney and Désirée rushed you here with Trauma Team; I got an AV ride from our place." A glance to the machines around them, and a small smile as he met Kerry's eyes afterward. "Far as I can tell, the meds are doin' their job. Your levels and vitals are lookin' better by the hour." And you recognize me again.

He didn't have a clue what that meant. Something... thyroid related, obviously, but he'd never heard of anything like that before. Maybe he'd ask more about it later, but in that moment he still didn't feel like his head was clear enough to absorb a ton of new information. All that mattered was that he was being taken care of and gettin' better, right?

"Yeah, I don't... remember any of that. I remember singin' and then... that's it. Don't remember fallin', or gettin' here, or you comin' in here." But then again, Vik must've been someone he'd seen over the few periods of time he did remember. Kerry hated the thought of it all, entertaining any idea that he might've been sick, or hurt. Faux blue eyes glanced down toward his arm, knowing well how that'd likely end up fucking up his playing.

"Good t'hear things are calmin' down. I can already hear Kelvy givin' me an earful." Louise, too, probably. "...And hopefully you feel too sorry for me to give me one, too." Another small jest, a small smile gracing his weary expression before letting it fall.

"Sorry if I scared you. I seriously had no clue anything anything was wrong."

He was too mentally and emotionally wrung out to manage rehashing a more detailed explanation, so part of Vik was glad Kerry didn't ask further questions. It wasn't clear how much he'd be able to coherently describe, or how much of it Kerry might retain. Later. For now, Vik was still privately basking in his partner recognizing him again.

"That's pretty normal, for where you are in your recovery," he assured, smoothing his thumb over Kerry's knuckles. "Don't strain yourself over it." Something else he wasn't keen to elaborate on, all the stress and fear and worry only to come in and endure hours of being treated like a stranger. It wasn't anyone's fault. Vik just needed to soothe his frayed nerves for a little while, preferably like this.

This time, Vik did manage a short, quiet huff of subtle humor through his nose and a little flick of of a smirk, before his expression also sobered. "I know. None of us did; Kearney's been beatin' himself up over not catching it. I kinda have too," he admitted. "But, I'm tryin' to remind myself what matters more is you got here in time." When he lifted Kerry's hand, he leaned down partway to kiss the heel of the other man's palm, and pressed his cheek into it. "So you're right." Their gazes met once more, and Vik mustered a small yet steady smile full of fondness. "I'm too sorry and too relieved to give you any kinda earful. ...At least for now," he gently teased, half joking.

At least the irritation seemed to slowly drain from the air between them. It eased enough that Vik chanced another look to Kerry - only to glance away again almost immediately. It wasn't anyone's fault, these symptoms weren't too unusual in a thyroid storm's aftermath, and it'd fade eventually.

'Eventually' was pretty cold comfort when he had to watch his partner miss his presence from only a few feet away.

And when the hours that followed were no less of a fraught roller-coaster, fraying Vik's nerves even more.

He'd had a fitful sleep in the bedside chair, little more than sporadic naps that left him tense and aching every time he woke. But still, he refused to leave. Even if Kerry didn't recognize him yet, the thought of leaving his partner all alone in this hospital room chafed too sharply.

Vik had just come out of another such doze, settling back into the chair with another water from Désirée. She'd updated him on the fuss over the tour schedule Kearney was still keeping at bay; he should get the doc lunch or something as thanks. He cracked open the bottle's cap - and paused. Finally, finally, there was his name in a tone that knew he was here. Vik met Kerry's eyes, and had the faint fleeting urge to cry at the other's recognition and relief.

That question, though... He mulled a moment on how honest to be, before mentally shaking aside any impulse to lie. He was exhausted too, in his own way, and didn't have the fortitude to maintain anything but the truth. "Yesterday," Vik explained gently, resting his hand over Kerry's and hoping he wouldn't be shrugged off now. "Been here since they first let you have visitors; haven't left since."

Kerry was quick to hold onto Vik's hand, eyes falling to stare at them in a quiet confusion. Since yesterday? Really? But that-- ... that hadn't looked like Vik. Looking up again, he looked at him with a questioning look in his eyes.

"Really?" There was no reason for Vik to lie. Vik didn't lie to him, that much Kerry was sure of. But that just confused him even more. Well... the solution was obvious. His brain had been a little fucked up. He'd hallucinated from trips before, so it made sense if some of the meds they were giving him were making a little fucked up.

"Man..." Kerry sighed, stroking over the back of Vik's hand with his thumb. "How fucked up was I? Seriously, what the hell happened?" That was what he was definitely still fuzzy about. There were bits and pieces, but none of it was really all that clear, in actuality.

"Must've been a helluva thrasher if I can't remember shit and my arm's out. Haven't had that combo since I was at least 20-something," Kerry joked lightly, but he wondered how much he could even really joke about it. Vik didn't really look like he was in the mood to joke about all of what happened. He looked damn tired. Probably damn tired, if he'd really been the same figure he saw sleeping in that same chair a while ago.

Vik expected the tinge of confusion in Kerry's look and gave a gentle squeeze to his partner's hand, to try and comfort them both. Kerry's initial question sounded half-rhetorical, but he nodded all the same. He could almost picture the wheels turning in the other's head, and hoped there wasn't any guilt fueling them.

While Vik didn't join in on that attempt at a joke, he also decided against chiding Kerry for it. The atmosphere had been pretty heavy for a while now, weighing in Vik's expression as much as the air around them; understandable that his partner would want to clear it.

Instead, he chose to explain again, after lifting Kerry's hand to his lips for a brief gentle kiss. "It's not unusual for those parts o' your memory to be kinda foggy. You had a thyroid storm, knocked you over maybe halfway through your set. You fell, uh... pretty hard, right there on stage." Vik still couldn't get that damn sound out of his head. "That's what got your arm. Kearney and Désirée rushed you here with Trauma Team; I got an AV ride from our place." A glance to the machines around them, and a small smile as he met Kerry's eyes afterward. "Far as I can tell, the meds are doin' their job. Your levels and vitals are lookin' better by the hour." And you recognize me again.

The nurse's departure was a small but appreciated mercy. The longer Vik watched Kerry, the more it grew apparent recognition hadn't set in yet. Shit. It would probably be best if he didn't put any more stress on his partner's brain. That sensible thought clashed with an urge from his heart, to insist and divulge and push until clarity hit. But he shouldn't, he really shouldn't - such efforts were just as likely to confuse and irritate Kerry further.

He shouldn't. Even when holding back let the other man's words dig sharp into his chest. Kerry wouldn't be saying any of it if not for the thyroid storm's aftereffects. Vik held onto that like a lifeline, letting it repeat in his mind between each sentence from his partner.

Then his name, and that tinge of disappointment, and then another insult - and god-fucking-dammit could he really endure this?

Jaw set, Vik swallowed hard and stood from the bedside chair, turning to fix his gaze on the various monitors around Kerry with his arms crossed. "Sure, that's what I am," he muttered bitterly.

A measured, silent breath in through his nose. "...You experienced a thyroid storm," Vik explained, settling into his more professional cadence in the thin hope it'd pull his heart off his sleeve for a bit. "First symptom showed 'round the sixth song, increased perspiration. Then delirium partway into your seventh, then fainting." Once again, that sound haunted his ears. The line of his shoulders stiffened subtly. "Most likely culprit is goiter caused by an infection. Not sure why it wasn't detected, but... poor Kearney's been beatin' himself up over it."

A slip, a crack. Seemed his heart didn't want to be far from Kerry for long.

Vik cleared his throat quietly. "You're gettin' meds for it all - methimazole to bring your levels in check, beta-blockers to keep your heart calm, plus some pain relievers to break your fever and help you ignore the fracture in your arm. All above board. Just..." a sidelong glance to Kerry, every hue somewhat different beyond the bounds of his glasses, "gotta wait out some aftereffects." He pulled his gaze away. Easier to watch the steady blip of Kerry's heartbeat and the slight shifts in numbers.

"Fainting? I didn't... I didn't faint." Kerry's expression contorted slightly as he appeared to be trying to piece it together, to take in what he'd been told. There was no way he'd fainted, had he? He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember a lot of it, in truth. What he was being told felt like a story. Nothing but bullshit that he was being fed by someone who didn't know what they were talking about. Hell, half the words they'd said barely registered.

Instead of getting irritated this time, however, he began to sink in a bit to his bed. A more somber expression replaced the last. He wished he wasn't alone with someone he didn't know. He wished he knew what was going on. He wished he had Vik.

The next several hours would be a lot of that. A lot of confusion, mood swings, and forgetting what had even happened. There was already being pressure to talk about the state of the rest of the tour, though that had been pushed back against by Kearney when it'd been brought up to them. Kerry would be in his right mind soon enough, they just had to wait.

It just wouldn't be until early evening the following day when it finally appeared to be clear to Kerry.

Blue optics blinked at Vik, recognition finally setting in for the first time since he'd been allowed to be with him.

"Vik?" He was still exhausted, easy to ascertain from his voice. That might still take time to really clear from his system. "When'd you get here?" His tone sounded just a touch hurt, but appeared more relieved than anything.

#rp #boatdriinks #[valid 😭😭😭]

At least the irritation seemed to slowly drain from the air between them. It eased enough that Vik chanced another look to Kerry - only to glance away again almost immediately. It wasn't anyone's fault, these symptoms weren't too unusual in a thyroid storm's aftermath, and it'd fade eventually.

'Eventually' was pretty cold comfort when he had to watch his partner miss his presence from only a few feet away.

And when the hours that followed were no less of a fraught roller-coaster, fraying Vik's nerves even more.

He'd had a fitful sleep in the bedside chair, little more than sporadic naps that left him tense and aching every time he woke. But still, he refused to leave. Even if Kerry didn't recognize him yet, the thought of leaving his partner all alone in this hospital room chafed too sharply.

Vik had just come out of another such doze, settling back into the chair with another water from Désirée. She'd updated him on the fuss over the tour schedule Kearney was still keeping at bay; he should get the doc lunch or something as thanks. He cracked open the bottle's cap - and paused. Finally, finally, there was his name in a tone that knew he was here. Vik met Kerry's eyes, and had the faint fleeting urge to cry at the other's recognition and relief.

That question, though... He mulled a moment on how honest to be, before mentally shaking aside any impulse to lie. He was exhausted too, in his own way, and didn't have the fortitude to maintain anything but the truth. "Yesterday," Vik explained gently, resting his hand over Kerry's and hoping he wouldn't be shrugged off now. "Been here since they first let you have visitors; haven't left since."

The lack of familiarity in Kerry's look and the pull away from Vik's touch were expected, though they still stung. Vik took a measured breath, reminding himself it wasn't his partner's fault; one couldn't control the side effects of most things, especially not a thyroid storm.

He didn't try to reach for Kerry again, much as his palm itched for it. Instead, mustering his patience, Vik calmly met that petulant look while he sat in a nearby chair. "And that's still true." A light snort. "If I ever do the bidding of a corpo, there'd have to be a gun to your head, to Misty's, V's, or mine."

This was the best approach he could think of, to remain confident in their connection until Kerry remembered. Insisting too strongly seemed more likely to sound unconvincing.

"The only thing that brought me here was..." Vik's tone softened, gaze flicking aside as that awful sound replayed in his mind's ear again. "Was watchin' you collapse not even an hour after we talked. Back at our place, too far to do anything but watch." He cut himself off there, swallowing and quietly clearing his tightened throat.

"I'll leave you two alone," the nurse spoke up in the background, though it was clear that Kerry wasn't paying her much mind. His skeptical gaze was firmly on Vik as he still wasn't recognizing whoever he was seeing before him. Even with what the "stranger" was saying, it didn't appear to be clicking. Not too surprising. There would still probably be some time before his treatments would be able to clear up the symptoms. Perhaps made all the worse, given Kerry's advanced age.

"Yeah, yeah--" Kerry attempted to move his arm, but would wince with the sharp pain he received in turn. "Fuck, that smarts. ...Y'said you saw? Watched? Whatever? I fell? Know you psycho fans love t'get every fuckin' detail, so tell me whatcha know... These freaks 'round here... Dunno what they've been smokin', but they're talkin' shit. Don't know a damn thing." Before Vik could get a word in, though, Kerry was going off again.

"Fuck it-- doubt you know shit either. Kel pro'ly knows. Little shit knows everything. Nance, too... 'N' Vik." His scowl deepened slightly, appearing a bit more disappointed than he had previously. "'Stead I'm stuck with some gonk corpo psycho fan."

The nurse's departure was a small but appreciated mercy. The longer Vik watched Kerry, the more it grew apparent recognition hadn't set in yet. Shit. It would probably be best if he didn't put any more stress on his partner's brain. That sensible thought clashed with an urge from his heart, to insist and divulge and push until clarity hit. But he shouldn't, he really shouldn't - such efforts were just as likely to confuse and irritate Kerry further.

He shouldn't. Even when holding back let the other man's words dig sharp into his chest. Kerry wouldn't be saying any of it if not for the thyroid storm's aftereffects. Vik held onto that like a lifeline, letting it repeat in his mind between each sentence from his partner.

Then his name, and that tinge of disappointment, and then another insult - and god-fucking-dammit could he really endure this?

Jaw set, Vik swallowed hard and stood from the bedside chair, turning to fix his gaze on the various monitors around Kerry with his arms crossed. "Sure, that's what I am," he muttered bitterly.

A measured, silent breath in through his nose. "...You experienced a thyroid storm," Vik explained, settling into his more professional cadence in the thin hope it'd pull his heart off his sleeve for a bit. "First symptom showed 'round the sixth song, increased perspiration. Then delirium partway into your seventh, then fainting." Once again, that sound haunted his ears. The line of his shoulders stiffened subtly. "Most likely culprit is goiter caused by an infection. Not sure why it wasn't detected, but... poor Kearney's been beatin' himself up over it."

A slip, a crack. Seemed his heart didn't want to be far from Kerry for long.

Vik cleared his throat quietly. "You're gettin' meds for it all - methimazole to bring your levels in check, beta-blockers to keep your heart calm, plus some pain relievers to break your fever and help you ignore the fracture in your arm. All above board. Just..." a sidelong glance to Kerry, every hue somewhat different beyond the bounds of his glasses, "gotta wait out some aftereffects." He pulled his gaze away. Easier to watch the steady blip of Kerry's heartbeat and the slight shifts in numbers.

Vik didn't expect or look for conversation from the nurse leading him. His thoughts were too preoccupied by struggling with himself, one side trying to anticipate how Kerry was doing by now and the other side trying not to have any expectations in case he was wrong.

The privacy of the rooms down this last hallway wasn't a surprise; if anything, at the moment it was appreciated. Neither Kerry nor Vik needed the mess of dealing with any more gossip or intrusions than they'd likely already face before long.

He recognized each machine flanking Kerry's bed, and glimpses of their displays told Vik his partner was doing as well as could be expected. The cast, the IVs, the bed's incline, all were their own manner of welcome sight. Even moreso was Kerry's glance toward them, despite the lack of immediate recognition.

Stepping into the room past the nurse, Vik approached Kerry's bedside for a gentle touch to his partner's uninjured arm. "It's alright, sweetheart; it's just me. Promise I won't bug ya too much."

Hearing that voice appeared to confuse Kerry a bit further. The voice was familiar, but not whatever he'd seen. Coupled with the easy touch had him pulling away once again, though not with much force behind it. Exhausted, confused, and a little agitated-- it was all to be expected. Turning his head back toward the source of the voice, though, he stared at Vik with a furrowed brow.

"Fuck off. Corpo... send ya t'butter me up? Only managed t'piss me off." As irritated as Kerry sounded there wasn't much energy behind it, no matter the fire lit within him despite everything that'd happened that day. "'Cause I don't give a damn what weird "southern hospitality" or whatever y'got t'use as an excuse. Only my fuckin' mainline calls me "sweetheart."" And that was that, apparently. With that message gotten across, he appeared to settle into his spot on the bed again to relax once again.

He glowered over at the unfamiliar other, his scowl more akin to a displeased toddler than a grown man whose life could've ended an hour ago.

The lack of familiarity in Kerry's look and the pull away from Vik's touch were expected, though they still stung. Vik took a measured breath, reminding himself it wasn't his partner's fault; one couldn't control the side effects of most things, especially not a thyroid storm.

He didn't try to reach for Kerry again, much as his palm itched for it. Instead, mustering his patience, Vik calmly met that petulant look while he sat in a nearby chair. "And that's still true." A light snort. "If I ever do the bidding of a corpo, there'd have to be a gun to your head, to Misty's, V's, or mine."

This was the best approach he could think of, to remain confident in their connection until Kerry remembered. Insisting too strongly seemed more likely to sound unconvincing.

"The only thing that brought me here was..." Vik's tone softened, gaze flicking aside as that awful sound replayed in his mind's ear again. "Was watchin' you collapse not even an hour after we talked. Back at our place, too far to do anything but watch." He cut himself off there, swallowing and quietly clearing his tightened throat.

He didn't blame her for not matching his attempt at light humor. No doubt she had a lot of things to worry about, not just Kerry's health. Vik had always known a tour like this was impossible to do alone, but had been nebulous on the true number of people working behind the scenes until hearing about it from Kerry. Désirée's job probably meant staying on top of it all, enough to keep things running smooth anyway.

Vik also knew enough about Kerry to feel certain the latter would back her up - and if the man wasn't in a condition to do so himself, Vik would readily be a messenger.

For now, he let the quiet stretch between them, occasionally taking more swigs of water. His wandering mind sometimes honed in on quiet conversations between some of the other waiting room occupants, but he let them pass through his ears without much concrete thought. Mulling over Kerry took up most of his mind; his own self-comfort was still reminding himself of the facts, to drown out the memory of his partner's collapse.

Vik greeted Kearney when the other doctor joined them, offering a bit more reassurance while knowing it could only go so far. He decided to take no news as good news, for his own sake.

It was only when a nurse who arrived focused on Vik that he stood straighter and set aside his mostly-empty water bottle. Her obviously-practiced benign smile itched at him - a reminder of what he'd escaped in becoming a ripperdoc instead - but Vik kept his own expression neutral. What mattered more was what the nurse said. Lingering renewed tension drained from his shoulders, and he spared a subtly gentler glance to Désirée and Kearney, before looking to the nurse again.

"I would, yeah. Lead the way." To the other two, he added, "I'll text you the room number." Better not to let those details get around, lest it cause a security issue for the hospital or interrupt Kerry's recovery.

Kearney would nod his head in acknowledgement as Vik left with the nurse. He wasn't sure how eager he'd be to see him again that night. He might just end up saving his visit for when Kerry was more aware. Witnessing him acting so confused, fighting back against his touch hadn't exactly been the greatest experience. Hell, if it weren't for the fact that he didn't want to leave Kerry's young assistant by herself, he probably would've just headed off to book a hotel room.

The walk to Kerry's room was a quiet one. The nurse didn't have much to offer past what she'd already warned Vik about.

They would end up in a slightly more out of the way hallway, one with the doors a bit more further apart. Private rooms for their far more high profile patients, bound to have large enough rooms to keep even the most vain celebrities comfortable, while also keeping much of their business private by keeping them far apart from one another.

Kerry had been half-aware when they finally made it to his room. Eyes half-lidded, hooked up to a number of machines and IVs that were giving him the medicines he needed to fight what was going on with his body. His bed was at an incline, where he was half-lying against the upper half so he wasn't too bothered by his arm cast that was held in place by a sling.

Blue Kiroshis would raise only slightly to give the intruders his attention, though he, for now, didn't appear to recognize either of them.

"Lea'e me alone..." Kerry whined, making only a slight attempt at turning away from the pair of them.

Vik didn't expect or look for conversation from the nurse leading him. His thoughts were too preoccupied by struggling with himself, one side trying to anticipate how Kerry was doing by now and the other side trying not to have any expectations in case he was wrong.

The privacy of the rooms down this last hallway wasn't a surprise; if anything, at the moment it was appreciated. Neither Kerry nor Vik needed the mess of dealing with any more gossip or intrusions than they'd likely already face before long.

He recognized each machine flanking Kerry's bed, and glimpses of their displays told Vik his partner was doing as well as could be expected. The cast, the IVs, the bed's incline, all were their own manner of welcome sight. Even moreso was Kerry's glance toward them, despite the lack of immediate recognition.

Stepping into the room past the nurse, Vik approached Kerry's bedside for a gentle touch to his partner's uninjured arm. "It's alright, sweetheart; it's just me. Promise I won't bug ya too much."

[i return, but fuckin hell just when i thought i could have days to myself

most of 'em are gonna be taken up by me being shown that new ghost game by my brother, for fuck knows how long.......

i'll TRY to get on replies soon as i can but not sure how quick they'll be comin out, sorry]

#ooc

[okay so, i'll be copy-posting this to most of my blogs but a wee announcement:

i'm going on a family vacation from Oct. 21 to Oct. 26

i won't have access to tumblr for those days - and tbh i probably won't do many / any replies before we leave, cause my brain's been tapioca pudding for weeks as i've shifted my sleep schedule in prep for the vacation

but i promise once i come back, i plan to hunker down and start on what i owe! thanks for your patience, y'all 🫶]

#ooc #morphy rambles

Brows lifting a bit, Vik hummed his agreement. He'd have to take another look at the tour schedule Kerry had sent him, to see how many were left and suss out which ones would have to be canceled. While he did hope for his partner's sake that it wouldn't be all of them, Vik was willing to accept it might have to be if that was best for Kerry's health. Then it'd just be a matter of convincing the man in question.

Regardless, whether it was all or a few, Kerry would have —

Yeah, the joking label of a 'tantrum' was one way of putting it, though Vik wasn't as likely to call it such himself.

A small soft smile resurfaced as he heard Désirée's quieter last remark. "Just what I was thinkin'." After another long sip and a casual glance around the waiting room, Vik added, "...I'll see if we can work out some kinda compromise, depending on the tour schedule, but his health comes first. I'll look after him, even if I gotta strap him to the damn gurney," he chuckled. For his part, it was only half a joke.

"Right," she sighed out in agreement, unable to produce a half-hearted laugh. No star, no show. And while she could see the powers that be trying to get back on that stage as quickly as possible, Désirée knew it wasn't that simple. Especially with a guy as old as Kerry was, with the kind of history she only knew of basically.

Leaning back in her seat and sinking down slightly, she'd hold her own water bottle against her chest as a means of self-comfort. So long as Kerry was okay, that was all that mattered. She had to keep assuring herself of that, though the thought of the producers alone had her anxious.

There would be some time before they'd finally be joined by Kearney, with no new news about about what was going on. He seemed a bit better, but not by too much. He was just as anxious as they were, eager to hear anything about how things were going. He kept having to pull his mind from festering in those self-doubtful thoughts. Wondering why his equipment would've read as normal. But, it wasn't helpful. Like Vik had said, he was just gonna drive himself crazy.

It would be another couple of hours before a nurse finally appeared from that long hallways of rooms, tablet in hand. With a brief scan of the room, she would approach Viktor once she would briefly internally confirm his status as Kerry Eurodyne's emergency contact. She offered Vik a small, painted on smile before she spoke.

"Mr. Eurodyne has regained consciousness, Dr. Vektor. His condition has been stabilized, and he's been cleared for visitors. He'll still be a bit groggy and delirious from both his medications and condition, but I can take you back to him if you'd like."

He didn't blame her for not matching his attempt at light humor. No doubt she had a lot of things to worry about, not just Kerry's health. Vik had always known a tour like this was impossible to do alone, but had been nebulous on the true number of people working behind the scenes until hearing about it from Kerry. Désirée's job probably meant staying on top of it all, enough to keep things running smooth anyway.

Vik also knew enough about Kerry to feel certain the latter would back her up - and if the man wasn't in a condition to do so himself, Vik would readily be a messenger.

For now, he let the quiet stretch between them, occasionally taking more swigs of water. His wandering mind sometimes honed in on quiet conversations between some of the other waiting room occupants, but he let them pass through his ears without much concrete thought. Mulling over Kerry took up most of his mind; his own self-comfort was still reminding himself of the facts, to drown out the memory of his partner's collapse.

Vik greeted Kearney when the other doctor joined them, offering a bit more reassurance while knowing it could only go so far. He decided to take no news as good news, for his own sake.

It was only when a nurse who arrived focused on Vik that he stood straighter and set aside his mostly-empty water bottle. Her obviously-practiced benign smile itched at him - a reminder of what he'd escaped in becoming a ripperdoc instead - but Vik kept his own expression neutral. What mattered more was what the nurse said. Lingering renewed tension drained from his shoulders, and he spared a subtly gentler glance to Désirée and Kearney, before looking to the nurse again.

"I would, yeah. Lead the way." To the other two, he added, "I'll text you the room number." Better not to let those details get around, lest it cause a security issue for the hospital or interrupt Kerry's recovery.

A small nod of approval, and at first he thought the water was hers. Still, Vik didn't pause too long before accepting the bottle. Her explanation sparked a small smile on his face, tinged with affection at the thought of Kerry insisting on that small kindness. His partner probably wouldn't even consider it a big deal, if asked. "Yeah, that sounds like him."

Cracking open the bottle for a sip, he glanced to Désirée again when she asked after Kerry, and his smile gently broadened in reassurance.

"He will, yeah. They're treating him right now." Vik's expression sobered somewhat, meeting her gaze directly. "He had what's called a thyroid storm; best guess for the cause was an infection. Just needs some meds to even his levels out and break his fever." Another brief swig of water. "He did fracture somethin' when he fell, but I haven't seen the scans yet. They only mentioned pain relievers for it, though, so at most that'll need a cast and plenty of rest."

Vik didn't want to leave her in the dark about any of it. Plus, some reiteration of the treatments helped ease his own mind a bit more.

"...Shit," Désirée sighed. Reaching down, she grabbed her own bottle of water to take a swig from it. "He's gonna be mad. Especially if too many shows are cancelled." She wasn't worried about it, per se. Not for her sake, anyway. She'd just seen how excited he was before every show, and how over the moon he was when he was confident that the show had gone well.

He was going to be super mad because of what happened. His health was what was most important, but she'd seen how Kerry was over the last several weeks. That drive and passion would be the end of him if he wasn't careful. She wondered if Kearney or Vik would even just want to cancel the rest of the tour as it was.

That would really piss him off, if they did.

"Glad you'll be getting the brunt of his tantrum instead of me," she joked lightly, her gaze falling to the water bottle in her grip. "At least he's here to be able to have that tantrum."

Brows lifting a bit, Vik hummed his agreement. He'd have to take another look at the tour schedule Kerry had sent him, to see how many were left and suss out which ones would have to be canceled. While he did hope for his partner's sake that it wouldn't be all of them, Vik was willing to accept it might have to be if that was best for Kerry's health. Then it'd just be a matter of convincing the man in question.

Regardless, whether it was all or a few, Kerry would have —

Yeah, the joking label of a 'tantrum' was one way of putting it, though Vik wasn't as likely to call it such himself.

A small soft smile resurfaced as he heard Désirée's quieter last remark. "Just what I was thinkin'." After another long sip and a casual glance around the waiting room, Vik added, "...I'll see if we can work out some kinda compromise, depending on the tour schedule, but his health comes first. I'll look after him, even if I gotta strap him to the damn gurney," he chuckled. For his part, it was only half a joke.