In Loving Memory, Frank Warren

Chapter 33: Back in the Hospital

A steady beep and the whir and hiss of machinery reached his ears. Pressure squeezed his upper arm, held for a moment, then ticked down as the pressure lessened. Frank wanted to scream "No hospital!" Unfortunately his mouth was too dry to do more than croak. A little.

"Hey, Baby." Dean's words were breathless, as if his love had waited for hours to say them. Gentle strokes across his forehead assured him he still lived. A hand gripped his.

"Can you open your eyes? For me?"

Moving his sandpaper tongue around his dry mouth did not help. He still could not talk. His eyelids felt like they had thousand pound weights on them. But his chest did not hurt. Not at all. Sure, the problem part of his body felt fine so all the rest decided to shut down.

Typical.

Gathering every ounce of energy he still possessed, Frank directed it all to pry open his eyelids. At first it had no effect. With more gentle urgings from Dean, he managed a tiny slit. Then a little more. Soon Dean's blurry face came into view followed instantly by his smile. Fondly, Frank decided he needed his smile daily. Whatever it took. If he had to give little presents or stick notes in Dean's briefcase every day he would as long as he saw that smile. His smile.

"Hey." Dean ran his fingers through Frank's bangs again, sweet touches across his forehead. "About time you woke up."

Shit. Scared him again. How the hell was Frank supposed to stop scaring him? It was not as if Frank enjoyed hanging out in hospitals. Soon they would offer him a frequent patient card with the amenity of bypassing triage as well as ten dollars off his next bill.

"Sorry," he croaked. Trying again to wet his dry lips with his equally dry tongue, Frank squeezed Dean's hand for attention. "Water?"

"Sure. Right here."

The reassuring warm touches had to leave him but for enduring this tragedy Dean rewarded him with cool water. Sipping it greedily, ice cold flowed into his mouth, filling it with a sweetness no dessert possessed. Frank tried to inhale the entire cup at once.

"Easy," Dean chided. "There's plenty. Drink it slow."

Cold from the water seeped through his neck and up into his head. A piercing cold headache made him squeeze his eyes against it. He should stop drinking to let his head warm up but he was too thirsty.

"That's enough." The cup no longer pressed against his lips.

Opening his eyes this time was easier. His eyelids no longer weighed a thousand pounds, it was closer to five. Dean waited, his smile at the ready.

"How do you feel?"

"Like crap," he stated, his voice stronger thanks to the water. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?" The sweet smile continued to blaze for him.

He should be in trouble right now. He should, Frank could feel it. Serious guilt settled in through his shoulders as he focused on what happened before he opened his eyes.

Lisa in the kitchen. Jim in the den. Lots of yelling. He got mad, real mad.

And Dean had asked him to stop. Damn. Yeah, he should be in deep trouble.

"Sorry," he said again. "Next time I'll stop. I'll try to stop."

"I wish you would," Dean sighed as his hand was squeezed. "Do you remember anything else?"

"Just Jim ranting on about holding a service." Frank shook his head. "How the hell do you hold a funeral service without the bodies? Huh? How is that supposed to work?"