The test results came in the mail yesterday before he woke up. I opened them just to confirm everything and we were right. I can't begin to express how relieved I am. Finally, something good has happened to us. But that happiness was short lived when I saw how much pain he's in. He's tough when I ask him about it, but he was crying in his sleep last night.
Laying beside him now he looks like he's in pain. I could cry at the sight of him. The bruising seems to have gotten worse. That seems to be a trend with his injuries, they seem to get a lot worse before they get better. I turn on my side to face him and kiss his cheek gently. Reflexively, he turns his head towards me and his eyes open.
"I'm sorry baby I didn't mean to wake you." I apologize immediately, moving away from him.
"What?" He asks in his scruffy morning voice, still half asleep.
"Go back to sleep." I hum, and he blinks himself awake.
"How can I when you're wearing that?" He jokes, blinking himself awake.
I blush, and he can't quite manage a laugh. It's not until now that I see the residue of tear streaks on his cheek. I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath. Me getting upset only makes him get upset. I rest my head on the pillow next to his, gently pushing my forehead against his.
"Still hurting?" I whisper to him, in reference to every part of him.
"Some places more than others." He says back, taking my hand and lacing our fingers together. "I'll be fine tomorrow."
"You said that yesterday." I point out, letting my hand fall to his cheek.
He sighs. Even if he feels better he shouldn't be pushing it. He needs to rest until the next fight. I lean forward to kiss him and he winces in pain, his hand flying to his shoulder. I pull off immediately again and he grips his bicep and closes his eyes tight.
"I'm sorr-"
"Don't." He stops me. "It's not you."
"Baby you need to see a doctor." I beg him, sitting up on the bed. "Please, you're not getting better."
"You know I can't do that." He shakes his head. "If I go, they'll ask how I got them and I can't tell them."
"Just say they're from the gym." I feel myself starting to cry. He's hurting so bad, he needs help. "Lie."
"They're not idiots Rachel. I've been there enough times with fighting injuries for them to know the difference." He takes in a deep breath and closes his eyes.
"I can't bare to see you like this any longer." I say quietly. "You need help."
"Rach why don't go do something with Thatcher today?" He asks, putting his bruised hand over mine. "You've been here the whole time, I'm just making you sad."
"I won't leave you." I tell him. "Marshall please let me take you to the doctor, you're in so much pain."
He closes his eyes, reigning in his frustration with me. I don't care if he gets mad, he needs to be helped. I want someone with a medical license to look me in the eyes and tell me he's going to be okay.
"My head's starting to hurt baby lets go back to sleep." He says, keeping his eyes closed.
"Marshall you probably have a concussion, you've been complaining about your headaches since the fight." I say, standing up from the bed. "We're going."
