..oOOo..


Dr. Larson returned alone a while later.  She gave them a look of
mixed emotions, from sympathy to confusion.  "I’m not sure how
John’s handling this, honestly.  He didn’t say anything, even after
he saw Ringo."  She slumped against the wall, letting her professional
guard down and knowing they would understand.

Scully leaned forward in her chair, clearing her throat quietly.  "Do
you have any idea how this could have happened?  How can he
have been carrying a child?"

"I honestly have no idea.  This has never been seen before, as far
as I know," she answered earnestly.  "I think what happened this
morning just proves that it should never have happened.  His body
isn’t equipped to handle that kind of strain, and it led to a spontaneous
abortion."

"That’s why he lost so much blood,"  Scully reasoned quietly.  

"Yes,"  Larson confirmed.  "And now...all we can do is wait.  As
I told John, Ringo is in deep shock, and may not regain consciousness
for a while, possibly several days.  Until then he is being monitored
closely."

The other two nodded, understanding.  Scully took a deep breath,
looking up at the other woman.  "As far as his medical records with
regards to these...unusual circumstances..." she hinted cautiously,
hoping the doctor would know what she was implying.

"Because we have no way of determining the cause of the...illness,
I don’t see that it would be prudent to continue further exploration.
I’ll take care in writing my report, and make sure the files are 
sealed."  She paused, her look telling them that she understood.
"The last thing those two need is their intimate life dissected by
the medical community."

"Thank you, we all appreciate everything you’ve done,"  Frohike
told her honestly.  "Would it be all right if we went to see him,
after a while?"

"Yes, of course.  Having his friends there may help him to come
around sooner."  She raised her hand, waving to indicate the
room.  "I don’t know how long he’ll be in the ICU.  Could you
gather his personal items and bring them to his new room?"

"Sure," Frohike nodded.  "We’ll take care of it."


..oOOo..


Byers heard nothing after his first look at his lover.  His heart
pounding, the blood rushing in his head, into his ears and he
never heard the doctor’s words or her quiet exit, closing the
door behind her.

He took a few unsteady steps toward the prone form laying
amidst the medical tubing and crumpled blanket.  The IV line
taped to the back of Langly’s right hand led to several bags
of clear fluid, the heart monitor wires snaking out from under
his gown.  

It was all Byers could do to force himself to breath.  A tiny
whisper escaped his trembling lips before he realized it.
"Oh, god, Ree..."

He made himself take the last few steps, until he was standing
next to the bed looking down at the Langly.  The younger man’s
face was as white as the pillow under his head, even his hair
dulled a pale gold.  Byers could barely see the shallow rise and
fall of his chest, but noted with some relief that the breathing was
unassisted.  It was the only outward sign that he was still alive.

"Hey, baby," he said quietly, regaining his voice as he pushed
past his distress.  He laid his palm against Langly’s forehead,
feeling the cold skin for the first time.  "God, you’re freezing,"
he stated out loud.  He glanced at a monitor and saw that the
man’s temperature was ninety-six degrees.  

With a resigned sigh, he pulled the nearby chair up close to 
the bed and took his place at his lover’s side.

"So," he said, his hand automatically moving down to take
Langly’s left one, the younger man’s cold fingers tucking into
his hand and resting on the blanket.  "I think...Kerry said 
something about you not waking up for a while."

He paused, as if expecting a response.  "That’s okay," he
went on, not caring that he was in fact talking to himself.
"You never get enough sleep at home anyway.  Might as
well catch up here, huh?"

Leaning in closer, he rested his chin carefully on Langly’s
upper arm, his eyes never leaving the younger man’s face.
"Don’t you dare even think about leaving me," he heard
himself whisper.  "It took too long for us to get this far and
I’m not going to let you end it like this."

He turned his head, his cheek resting on the arm.  "I need
you too much," he finally said, only loud enough for his lover
to hear, if he was listening.  


..oOOo..


2:15 pm

When Frohike didn’t receive an answer to his light knock on the
door to Langly’s room in the ICU, he glanced at Scully then 
opened the door a crack. 

He didn’t go in, his throat suddenly tight at seeing his roommates
in such distress, both physical and mental.  He saw the normally
lively, energetic and occasionally annoying younger man laying
so still, only his shallow breathing giving away that he was alive.

He saw Byers, his head resting on Langly’s arm with their left
hands entwined intimately, even in sleep.

"John?" Frohike inquired softly, not wanting to disturb the fragile
scene but knowing he was also responsible to the two men.  

Byers’ stirred, lifting his head with a deep sigh.  "Hmm?  Oh,
Mel," he caught sight of others at the door.  "Scully."

"Hi,"  Scully smiled at him.  "Can we--?"

"Oh, of course," Byers shook off the last remnants of his 
exhausted sleep and waved them in.  "I was just..."  he shrugged.

"Yeah, we know,"  Frohike assured him.  "How is he?"

Byers looked back down at Langly’s pale face and swallowed
hard.  "He’s alive," he answered honestly.  With his right hand
he reached up to touch the younger man’s forehead with his
fingers.  "And cold," he added with a sigh.  "His temp’s still
barely over ninety-six."

Scully took the few steps to close the gap between her and Byers,
placing her hand on his shoulder.  "John, he’ll be all right.  He just
needs some time."

Leaning back in his chair but not breaking his hand’s contact from
his lover, Byers nodded reluctantly.  "Yeah, I know."

Frohike could feel the tense, unspoken vibe from his roommate 
and knew they should leave the lovers alone, at least for a while.
Clearing his throat, he spoke up.  "Listen, I’m gonna go back to
HQ and take care of some stuff.  You need anything from home?"

Without thinking, Byers simply shook his head.

Knowing he needed to look out for Byers for as long as Langly
was like this, Frohike just sighed.  He made a mental note to 
gather some of Byers’ personal things that he would need for
what may be a few days and stepped toward the door, giving
Scully a look that told her that it was time to leave.  "Okay, I’ll
come back later tonight to check on you guys.  Call if you think
of something you need."

"Sure, thanks,"  Byers responded absently.


..oOOo..


Byers watched as the nurses came and went, checking on the 
unconscious man and giving him encouraging smiles.  He tried
to smile back but he knew it didn’t fool anyone.  He felt so
tired, so useless just sitting there and not being able to do anything.

He heard Frohike come back later that night, and he gave his
unwavering friend a genuine smile when their eyes met.  "Hey,"
he greeted the older man.  

"Hi, John.  How’s everything going here?" Frohike replied,
glad to see Byers looking and sounding better than he had
earlier that day.

"Okay.  He’s doing better, his temp’s up a bit.  Still unresponsive,
though."

"That’s good to hear," he replied.  Stepping closer, the older man 
slipped the strap of the backpack from his shoulder and set it on 
the floor.  He bent down to open the pack, glancing up at Byers 
with a knowing smile.  "I brought a few things for you guys," he 
explained.  

"Mel, you didn’t have to--"

"Yes, I did,"  Frohike cut him off.  "I know you, John.  As long
as you’re watching out for Ringo, it’s my job to watch out for
you.  It’s just a change of clothes and some bathroom stuff of
yours."

Byers stared at him for another moment in wonder.  He’d almost
let himself forget what a good friend the other man was.  "Thanks,
Mel.  I really appreciate that."

"Hey, no problem,"  the older man assured him.  He turned back
to the bag at his feet, and pulled out another familiar item, carefully
folded.

"Is that--?"  Byers looked at him curiously as Frohike stood and
shook out the bundle of cloth.

"Langly’s blanket?  The one he drags around the place when he’s
pulling all-niters and falls asleep with it on the floor?  That’s the 
one,"  Frohike grinned at him.  He waved his empty hand toward
the quiet figure on the bed.  "Is it all right if I...?  I thought it might
make him feel better, you know, something familiar, comfortable."

Byers gaped at his friend, his jaw dropped open as he realized
what the other man was asking.  "God, Mel, that’s..." he 
stammered, honestly at a loss for words.  "Of course," he
finally consented, his eyes stinging with tears.

Frohike nodded understanding as he carefully draped the soft
blanket over the hospital bedclothes, covering his young friend
with a silent plea for healing.  He tucked the cloth under Langly’s
arms to keep his hands free.  Reluctant to step away, he lingered
a few moments, holding the limp left hand in his own and giving
it a gentle squeeze.  "Hope this helps, buddy," he told the sleeping
figure softly.

He stepped back finally, looking back to Byers.  The seated man
gave him a shaky, heartfelt smile.  "Thank you, Mel.  This is so..."
Byers hastily wiped the escaped tear from his cheek.  "I’m sure
it makes him feel better, I really am."

"I think so too,"  the older man reached up and rested his hand
on the back of Byers’ head, gently stroking his hair.  


..oOOo..