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Eric manages to control himself just long enough to make a shaky phone call to his parents – is more than a little overwhelmed by his mom’s hysterical voice as he forces out the words of what happened or least some watered down version of it. We were attacked, me and Andrew are hurt, we’re going to the hospital, please come for Wen. There is no doubt in his mind that they’re already rushing to the airport the moment they hang up the phone.
It doesn’t occur to either of them to call the police, not yet anyway.
Wen is sitting on his lap, and Eric buries his face in her hair as he tries to ignore the way the sunlight sends sharp pain reverberating through his skull, the way he isn’t quite able to focus on any particular object. Andrew keeps glancing over at him, his hands clenched so tightly on the steering wheel that the leather molds to the shape of them – he can’t bring himself to look back.
There is a pressure building in his chest, trying to claw its way up his throat, but Eric refuses to acknowledge it. It’s different to the horrified grief that had overtaken them both when Leonard killed himself and they were free, different from the helplessness and pain – this was tinged with a bitterness that he didn’t know what to do with.
“Eric? Are you with me?”
His head has started drooping, and he knows it’s taking more effort than it should to peer at his husband, tries not to think about how only thirty minutes ago he’d been begging Andrew to kill him – to save the world by sacrificing his life, tries really fucking hard to supress the flash of disgust he swore he’d seen buried in his eyes at the mere suggestion.
“Daddy Eric?” Wen’s voice breaks through the fog building in his head. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m okay,” he’s quick to reassure her, fumbles his attempt to rearrange her position so he can see her face.
Wen is smart for her age, something that seems like a curse instead of a gift now. She turns in his lap of her own accord, jostling him enough to make him wince before peering up at him with that astute gaze, “promise?”
They don’t like lying to her, not when it can be helped, but Eric doesn’t have it in him to expend the energy it would take to be completely honest in that very moment, “I promise.”
Ignoring the way the pressure in his chest increases tenfold, he resolutely ignores Andrew’s eyes, which are heavy on the side of his face. When his husband’s hand reaches across the dash to rest on his forearm, Eric doesn’t feel the usual butterflies or comfort – and that makes him hate himself a little bit.
By the time they reach the hospital, Eric knows something is very wrong with him. The concussion was as severe as the lady – Sabrina – said. His best guess is that the adrenalin forestalled some of the symptoms, or he’d just been so terrified, so focused on survival it hadn’t been noticeable. Andrew has been trying to talk to him for several minutes now, his voice increasing in urgency each time Eric fails to respond, his body too heavy to so much as turn toward him.
He lost consciousness when Andrew started pressing the car horn, when the passenger door opened, and a flurry of hands reached for him and Wen. The relief he felt in that moment was palpable, he’d never wanted to escape so badly before, wanted to fall asleep and wake up to find out it was nothing more than a nightmare.
But he’s never been very lucky in life.
Eric wakes up slowly, the beeping machines worming their way through his brain until he is forced to pry open crusty eyes. When he does, he’s immediately disoriented, the room he lies in is dim, the windows covered with thick curtains, and the machine’s beeping fairly muted compared to normal hospital rooms, and it is a hospital room. Eric figures that out right way, he is laying down after all and the flimsy gown is the opposite of comfortable.
With that realization comes a distant sort of panic – Wen and Andrew are nowhere to be found, but he knows they must be alright. Andrew’s injuries weren’t that bad, and Wen should be completely fine physically – but this meant all of it was real and suddenly that pressure in his chest hit him like a freight train.
Just like that, Eric feels himself shut down. His mouth snaps shut and his eyes drift downward until he is staring at the scratchy blanket draped over his body. When just moments before he’d been nearly desperate to see Wen and Andrew, the feeling vanishes and is replaced by an indescribable tidal wave of shame.
He’d believed it. In the end he’d believed the entire fucking thing – that if he could just convince Andrew to kill him, he’d save the world and give Wen a future and he’d been so fucking stupid. Andrew hadn’t faltered, not once, he hadn’t been swayed in the slightest – he hadn’t let himself be caught up in some religiously fanatic fantasy, had seen Eric’s weakness straight away when Sabrina took him to the bathroom. He couldn’t begin to image what Andrew thought of him now-
The door opening abruptly ended the spiral of his thoughts. Eric’s gaze snaps up and something inside him breaks loose at the sight of his mom standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and relieved, “oh Eric baby.”
“Mom?” she rushed to him, arms being thrown around his shoulders and he starts to cry – great heaving sobs that can’t be good for his head, but he could care less as he clings to her with a hopeless kind of despair.
Within moments, nurses are rushing into the room to take his vitals and check his head – leaving his mom to step away with an apologetic smile, sniffling quietly to herself. When he isn’t answering their questions, he’s staring at her, desperate for the touchstone of her presence. Eventually, she takes out her phone and calls his dad – clearly he was with Wen somewhere and Eric feels inexplicably relieved when the need to see her resurfaces just as strongly as it had when he first woke up.
He was right about the severity of the concussion – he’s been asleep for a few days now, in and out of consciousness, not that he remembers. They were worried about him slipping into a coma for a little while, but he’d pushed past the worst of it relatively quickly, or so they said. Eric doesn’t really care when they tell him he is going to have to stay a little longer – he just holds his mom’s hand in a death grip and waits until they give them some privacy. The whole thing doesn’t take very long, but he’s exhausted by the time they step out of the room.
“Eric,” his mom starts crying again. “I was so worried.”
“I’m sorry,” he says it because its true, but she’ll never know just how true – he hopes Andrew hasn’t told her everything, won’t tell her how weak he was in the end. “Wen-”
“She’s alright, well, all things considered. You would be so proud, she’s taken everything in stride, even talking to the police,” his mom is quick to reassure him, her other hand resting on his shoulder like she’s afraid to embrace him again. “They’ll probably start pushing to talk to you now of course,” she must see something in his expression to show his discomfort because she pushes on quickly. “Don’t worry dear, Andrew won’t let them bother you right away – he’s been quite adamant about that.”
“Andrew-”
His mom’s eyes widen again, obviously embarrassed to have been sidetracked, “oh, he’s okay Eric really. His knee might need surgery and physiotherapy, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.” She offered him a wet little laugh. “He is going to be so angry that you woke up the one time he isn’t here.”
Eric can’t express how comforting his mother’s prattling is, listening to her is far better than listening to the voices in his head. He opens his mouth to ask her where Andrew had gone, when the door swings open abruptly, and he is there.
Andrew stands there for a long moment, eyes locked on his, and he looks so much better than the last time Eric saw him. The sweat and grime is gone, the blood too has been washed away – there are no traces of the wildness that had overtaken them both in that cabin and he looks almost normal.
“Andrew,” Eric isn’t the least bit surprised when his voice causes his husband to launch himself forward, his limp just as pronounced, to wrap his arms around him. Kisses cascade over his face, his jaw, his neck, anywhere he can reach – meanwhile his mom is trying to admonish Andrew both for abandoning his crutches and jostling Eric. He can’t say he really cares in that moment as he inhales Andrew’s familiar smell without the underlying fear.
“You’re awake,” he breathes into Eric’s ear, a little belatedly, like he can’t quite believe it. “Christ, I was worried-”
“I know, I’m alright – the nurses and the doctor have already seen me. I’m going to be okay; I swear.” Andrew probably already knows that, but he also knows how reassuring it can be to hear again, so he says a few more times until his husband finally pulls back. Only then, does Eric realize his mom is gone.
Andrew sits down heavily in one of the chairs next to the bed, but he doesn’t stop touching him – stroking his arm, grabbing his hand, kissing the back of it. Just like that, the thoughts from earlier surge forward, and Eric is talking too fast, “I’m sorry, I know I said it before, but I shouldn’t have – I should have listened to you from the beginning and I – I – I shouldn’t have asked you-”
Andrew seems stricken by the sudden onslaught of his words, the elation in his eyes dimming into something akin to disbelief, “Eric-”
“I was so fucking stupid.”
“Eric-”
“I was weak and you have every right to be angry with me.”
“Eric stop!” Andrew was on his feet suddenly, hands gripping Eric’s face with gentle fingers, his eyes bright and fierce. He has no choice but to meet his gaze, to let that bitter pressure inside his chest deflate, “I don’t blame you for any of it. I meant what I said at the end – you were concussed, we were traumatized, you were not weak. Do you hear me Eric? I do not resent you for anything that happened at that cabin and I hope to Christ you feel the same way.”
He startles at that, looks up at Andrew with incredulity, unable to fathom a world in which he would resent him for anything that he did to keep them safe. Andrew saved him and Wen- there is no other version of the story that exists in his mind, but he doesn’t know how to say it.
Luckily, he doesn’t have to.
Andrew sees it in his eyes and the relief that goes through him is palpable, when he hugs him this time, Eric is quick to return it – the bitterness slowly seeping out of chest, the self-loathing softening into something more endurable.
They were alive. They were safe.
That was all that mattered.