Find Me [Completed]

P27: Close Call

[A/N: Double-length chapter that I wrote mostly over the course of an hour and a half because I love y'all! Believe it or not, the plot point in this chapter is one of the few original ones I've held onto since I first started writing Find Me XD ]

The dysfunctional family of three ended up staying the night at the Norway base, just because it had gotten rather late. Plus the fact that everyone was tired from the day's events. It's not everyday your boyfriend gets shot in the neck and you're scared shitless that he's going to die, after all.

Once Tord had been given a clean bill of health, and had expressed his desire to stay the night, the officers had quickly gotten one of the largest sleeping quarters ready for him.

Tom laid quietly on the double bed he was sharing with Tord, staring up at the ceiling blankly. Well, he would be staring up at the ceiling if his glasses weren't still only at 72% updated.

If he wasn't a smart man, Tom might've thought the warm body lying next to him was Tord. But Tom was smart, and he knew the tiny body beside him was at least half of Tord's height and snored like a hedgehog. Therefore, Tom knew it was obviously Tami sleeping between Tord and himself.

Tom then watched with slight awe as the update progress counter on his glasses skipped up from 72 to 104 before shutting off. He hummed quietly at the event, before rolling on his side away from his family, and trying to get some sleep.

...

The next morning's ride home was, thankfully, completely uneventful. Other than Tom getting plane sick mid-way through the jet-ride and spending the rest of it in the bathroom, of course. This was much to Tami's amusement, who got to sit alone with her father during that time.

So it was to everyone's utmost surprise that when the trio arrived home, Tord had to carry Tom bridal style off the jet and to the medical bay because the shorter man had somehow sustained  a mild concussion during the ride. No one who'd been on the jet at the time seemed to know what had happened. Well, either that or they were all just hiding the truth.

Tom soon found himself sitting cross-legged on a gurney in the medical unit. He was slouched forward and had his arms wrapped around his own torso. Tom wondered how he was always in a hospital-esque place for one reason or another. It happened far too often for his liking, and frankly he was getting sick of it.

Other than knowing that he was in the med bay, and there were some amount of people around, Tom couldn't really process too much else out. It was hard to think through all the nausea, the splitting headache, and the loud ringing in his ears.

It was so hard to process things, in fact, that Tom hadn't even realized Tord was talking to him. It wasn't until his boyfriend was cupping his face and tilting it up to look at him that Tom realized he was being talked to. "W-what?" He stuttered out.

"You didn't hear a single word we just said, did you, elske?" Tord asked, watching as the screen on Tom's glasses randomly cycled through static, a sad face, and the 'unstable connection' error.

A feeble head shake was all Tord received in response and he sighed, not wanting to have to explain everything again. Tom probably wouldn't even listen anyway.

"Okay, I'll shorten it for you." Tord said.

A small nod.

"You have a grade 2 concussion because of what happened on the jet. It's not too serious but you have to rest for a few days. Still following?"

Another tiny nod.

"Good. Reed and I are going to remove your glasses while you rest, for safety reasons and to fix something in them." Tord continued, trailing a finger of his biotic hand over the smooth metal bordering Tom's faux eyes.