Find My Way Home [m×m; mpreg]

seven

My head feels heavy as if it were stuffed with cotton.  It hurts and all I want to do is sleep, but they keep waking me up every two hours and it's annoying.  There's always someone shaking me awake, leaving me frustrated and utterly exhausted.

A small keen escapes my parched throat and it immediately grabs Ian's attention.  His lips open and I barely catch my name on his tongue before it's drowned out by a louder voice.

"Morgan!"

Tiredly, I turn my head toward the door where I find my mom looking frazzled.  His curly hair is stuck up in every direction, sweet brown eyes red rimmed and filled with worried tears.  I want nothing more than to hug him, bury my face in his scent and comfort.

"Mom," I croak weakly, reaching out and finding an IV stuck to my arm.

"Oh baby," he breathes, rosy nose sniffling as he rushes toward my side.

His hand feels like heaven as he runs his fingers through my hair and peppers kisses to my warm forehead.

I lean into his touch, feeling myself succumb to my plaguing exhaustion.

"My sweet baby," he coos, smooth voice breaking, "my precious good."

I nuzzle against him until Ian speaks, his voice thick and weary, tired, "He has a minor concussion."

I glance toward where he stands and find dad beside him, clenching his fists tightly at his sides and barely controlling his anger as Ian continues.

"His prosthetic was broken, I don't think it's even functional anymore.  He... he also has a sprained wrist and pulmonary edema."

"Pulmonary edema?" Dad repeats, chewing the words and spitting them as a question.

Mom holds my hand in his, biting his lip as he waits for an explanation as well.  His leg bounces in worried impatience.  I want to calm him, reassure him that I'm okay.

But Ian adds with just as much anger, "Fluid in his lungs and since he doesn't have any heart complications, the doctors think he was most likely drowned.. or at least someone attempted to drown him. "

I close my eyes and shrink in on myself, a small distressed whimper on my lips as I remember.

"Drown.. you mean they tried to drown Morgan?!"

Dad's face turns into a furious cherry red, blue eyes hardening and turning deadly cold with his anger.

"He'll be on oxygen for a while and he'll have to stay for a few more days, just to make sure he doesn't get an infection," Ian says.

"Max," mom calls, "we need to do something, this can't... they can't.. they almost killed him!"

"Dad," I croak weakly.

Maximilian, my kindhearted dad, is now consumed by sheer anger.  

And still he steps up and kisses my forehead sweetly, "Rest, little warrior.  We'll listen to everything that happened later, okay?  For now, just rest."

"Okay," I mumble, watching him dig through his breast pocket to take out his phone as he walks toward the door.

He's more than ready to make any and every call necessary.

"Sleep, sweetheart," mom coos with his lips on my cheek for a small kiss, "you're going to be okay."

I manage a small nod, finding the exhaustion creeping into my consciousness and I slowly give in, slowly doze off again.