Chapter Text
He opens his eyes, hope squeezing his chest too tight-
-and he’s looking into the most beautiful blue eyes he’s ever seen.
He looks weak, his eyes just barely open but they’re there, for the first time in too long he’s seeing the other man’s perfect eyes and it’s like suddenly there’s hope again, hope for this, hope for him.
Callum’s mouth moves, forms his name, but it looks like the movement alone hurts him.
“Don’t try to talk, you’ll hurt yourself,” Ben says, and he’s sure he’s crying, sure his voice must crack but he can’t find it in him to care. “Fuck, you’re- you’re- I love you so much, so much, yeah?”
Callum opens his mouth again and it looks like he’s trying to talk, but he winces as soon as his mouth is open. His breath catches on the way in, and Ben feels the way it shakes his chest. He tries again but it looks like he’s just in more pain, and there’s tears filling his eyes.
“Hey, it’s okay, I get it,” Ben tries to say but he doesn’t feel in control right now, like he’s drifting and he thinks it probably just comes out as a mantra of ‘you’re okay, it’s okay’, over and over again. It feels like maybe he’s desperately trying to press broken pieces back together, keep up this front because he feels like he should, because Callum is the one who needs comfort right now.
Suddenly Callum’s shaking his head, too vigorously if the grimace on his face and the clenching of his fists ( fuck, he’s got bruises on his knuckles and Ben hates that he hasn’t noticed it before, too caught up with everything else) means anything. Ben can just about make out that he’s saying I’m sorry , over and over again, tears trickling down his cheeks. Ben stands up from his seat on shaky legs, ignoring the way his muscles scream from the lack of use in the last few hours. He leans forward, catches Callum’s chin in a gentle hand because can see the way he’s hurting himself like this. Callum’s eyes flick up to catch on his, and there’s desperation in them, and genuine fear. He’s not sure what it’s about, but he’s not sure he wants to.
“Shh, Callum, Cal, listen to me,” he says, doing everything he can to keep his voice steady and praying that it works. “It’s okay, I promise you it’s going to be okay.”
Callum’s still shaking his head as much as he can in Ben’s grip and he’s pleading with his eyes, which is when Ben feels the way his chest is hitching dangerously just under him. Fuck, he hates himself for not noticing, and suddenly Callum’s not even looking at him any more. His eyes flick in the direction of the door, and Ben turns behind him. There’s a couple of nurses just coming into the room, urgency on their faces, and that’s when he realises the heart monitor next to him is probably beeping like crazy. If he could concentrate enough he’d probably hear it, but everything in him is on Callum right now, hoping desperately that this isn’t just going to be a dream, that he’s not going to wake up in a minute to an empty bed. He turns back, and soon as one of the nurses comes to touch Callum he flinches heavily, shifting as far away from the hand as he can when Ben’s perched next to him. Ben’s hand has slipped and he’s back to shaking his head again, his eyes closed again now. Ben thinks he might be pleading with the woman by his other side. She brings something out, her mouth opens to explain something to him but he pushes away violently, so much so that it forces Ben off the bed. She’s holding a needle in one hand, full of a clear liquid, and from the look on her face her voice is probably gentle, caring but Callum’s too worked up now to see it. Fuck, Ben knows the other man has been through so much, and he hates himself for being too selfish to notice how much he’s been struggling. Lola’s been telling him, drilling it into him that this isn’t his fault but he’s not sure at this point how it couldn’t be. There’s a chorus of what-ifs running around his head, shouting that if he’d noticed, if he’d pushed more-
That’s the thing about the past, though. It’s already happened, he’s got no control over it- he just has to sit back and deal with the aftermath. Hindsight is a beautiful thing, but it’s deadly sometimes too.
One of the women holds Callum’s arm down while the other one injects whatever’s in the needle into his IV. Callum’s struggling, and all Ben can do is hold his other hand, direct his eyes towards him rather than what’s happening. It’s mostly fruitless, but Callum’s grip on his hand is deathly tight so he tells himself that it must be some comfort to him. He’s not sure at this point whether it’s that Callum’s scared of needles or it’s just the situation, but either feels just as painful because Callum’s terrified , and Ben can see it in his eyes, recognises the look from the hazy memories that he has of being shot, of lying across Callum’s lap in the middle of the Vic, staring into bright blue eyes and thinking that he’d be a lucky man if Callum was the last thing he saw. It wasn’t though, and the man in question has pushed ever since the day to make sure of it. He doesn’t remember much, but he recognises that fear and it makes him cry even more than he already has been, reputation be damned.
Maybe twenty seconds after the injection Callum’s already starting to calm down, eyelids drooping to their half-closed state again. It makes panic drift through Ben, thinking that fuck, he can’t do this again, can’t wait by Callum’s bedside like this, can’t lose him until he has to remind himself that they’re not fully putting him under again, just forcing him to relax so that he doesn’t hurt himself more. His grip on Ben’s hand is wavering, but every so often he holds on harder again, like he never wants to let go. It’s fine, though, because Ben has no plans on leaving any time soon.
Callum still looks just as scared and it breaks Ben’s heart, so he reaches a hand up to stroke carefully through his hair. It’s not as soft as it usually is, probably from the fact that he won’t have showered for a few days, but Ben doesn’t miss the way Callum just barely leans into the touch like he craves it, so he doesn’t dare stop. He’s back to whispering that mantra over and over again, the repetition of you’re okay, you’re safe, you’re with me that he hopes is some benefit to the other man, and not just to himself, thinking the words. His voice must crack on every sentence but he doesn’t care, can’t find the energy in him when every ounce of it right now is aimed at the man in the bed beside him.
It’s maybe a minute since they put the stuff in him when he starts to look completely out of it again. His eyes drift closed, and his hand is almost limp in Ben’s. It’s not completely though, which is some sort of comfort to Ben because it’s something different to before, something that reminds him that they’re not just back to where they were. Callum’s fingers are still stubbornly hooked around his own, strong even in his unconscious state but that’s okay, because Ben doesn’t think he could ever let go again.
-
The next time Callum’s eyes flicker open it’s softer, more steady. It’s maybe a couple hours later - 2 hours, 49 minutes and maybe 30 seconds - because it’s not like Ben’s been watching the clock - it’s the only thing he can look at - waiting for the moment something will finally happen. The nurse that had come in told him that he’d be out a couple hours, given the light sedative that they’d given him. He’s been waiting ever since, refusing to leave in case something changes, in case he leaves for a second and Callum’s gone the next. He’s delirious and he doesn’t know what to do, desperately lost like he was all those years ago when they got that phone call.
He’s desperately trying to convince himself that this won’t be the same.
The memories haunt him even now, and he wouldn’t admit it to anyone but that’s why he’s not been sleeping- haunted by the idea that he’s going to have to do all of that again and he can’t , he can’t face it.
But Callum’s awake , he reminds himself. This isn’t about him right now.
“Hey, hey, baby,” Ben says, standing up so that he can look straight into Callum’s eyes, simply because he can’t bear to be looking at anything else, now that there’s the option. “Just relax, you’re okay I promise.”
“Ben?” he says, eyes confused and scared and locked on Ben’s face, drifting around as if he can’t decide what he wants to focus on.
(Ben knows the feeling.)
“Hey, sleepy head,” Ben replies, offering as much of a smile as he can muster. It ends up being only a little upturn of the corners of his mouth but it’s something, and he just has to pray that it’s worth something to Callum. “NIce of you to join us.”
“What are you doing here?” Callum says, and he can just about make it out, even as his mouth moves lazily and slowly around the words.
“Looking after you, ain’t I?” Ben replies, and then his face drops and he can feel it, but he just- has to know. “What do you remember, Cal?”
Callum looks at him, confused for a minute and then Ben can log almost every emotion as they cross Callum’s face- confusion, turned to thinking and then fear, and shame, and worry.
“Ben- I’m sorry, I’m- I’m so, so sorry-”
“Hey, come on, don’t get yourself worked up again,” Ben says hurriedly when Callum’s chest begins to catch again, a hand coming up to move through the other man’s hair softly, hoping that it offers some sort of comfort. “You don’t need to apologise.”
“I didn’t mean to,” he says, and Ben’s confused for a moment until- oh . It settles something in him, that maybe this hadn’t been completely intentional but the alternative is almost no better.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Ben replies, and Callum doesn’t look convinced. “Whatever happened, we’re gonna help you get better, okay? I promise you.”
“I love you,” Callum says, eyes desperate, and there’s nothing else Ben can say except the obvious, because he just has to let him know, has to make sure that Callum understands.
“I love you too, so so much.”
-
Through the next few hours, there’s various doctors and nurses that run in and out of the room, speaking to Callum and running various tests but Ben doesn’t understand a word- he can’t bear to look away from the man in front of him long enough to concentrate on anything else. It’s as if the minute he looks away Callum will fade, that this will all be a dream and that Callum will still be laid there in front of him unconscious or worse. It’s ridiculous, irrational but he’s not taking any chances. Their hands never part either- Callum’s desperate fingers always hooked around his own as if Ben could ever leave him like this. It’s only later, once the light coming through the window has faded and he’s sure he’s going to be told to leave soon (fuck, even the thought sends him panicking) that another doctor comes in, one that he recognises as the one that had first greeted them when Callum had been brought in. He stands around the opposite side of the bed and Callum squeezes his hand, getting his attention to the man on the other side of the room.
“We’ve completed some basic tests, and everything has come back clear. Your ankle is healing well, but you’ll probably be on crutches for a few weeks,” he says, looking between the two of them. “But it’s looking positive. It’s a good sign.”
“Wait- good- good sign?” Ben asks, desperate because he’s terrified he’s misunderstood again, that this really isn’t real, but the doctor nods and confirms it, and Callum squeezes his hand again. “So what happens next then, Doc?”
He sighs, looking towards Callum for a minute before turning back to Ben. “We need to complete a psychiatric assessment, given the circumstances that Callum was brought in under.”
Callum looks away from the doctor, down to his lap and Ben knows him too well, instantly recognises the look of shame that crosses his face. Ben squeezes his hand back, a thumb stroking over the skin of his fingers.
(Something hits him in that moment, something about the contrast between the calluses of Ben’s hands and the soft skin of Callum’s, something about how that seems to sum them up too painfully well but he pushes it to the back of his mind - something for later.)
“What does he have to do?” Ben says, and the doctor regards him again.
“It’s a standardised exam that will give us a better idea of your mental state, Callum, so that we can make a good decision about what happens next.”
Callum looks up at that. “What do you mean, what happens next?”
“We need to work out what brought this on, and whether we need to recommend a rehab or mental health facility for you going forward,” the doctor says, a kind look on his face and Ben wonders distantly how many times he’s had to have this conversation.
Too many, given what goes on in the square, probably.
“Wait, wait, rehab?” Callum says, panic coming back to his eyes. “I ain’t- I don’t need rehab I just- it was a one off. I didn’t- I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Babe,” Ben says, and Callum turns to him. “It’s okay- it’ll be okay, I promise. They just want to help you- I just want to help you.”
He takes a breath, then nods a little.
“Okay,” he says. “When is this happening?”
“Tomorrow morning,” the doctor says, looking down at the file in his hand for a moment, then back to the two of them. “Whatever the psychologist says, you should be out of here by tomorrow night.”
Something settles in Ben then, that this whole ordeal might be coming to an end soon, until he has to remind himself that it all depends on the assessment. That makes nausea sail through him though, so he pushes the thought away.
“Okay,” Callum says, nodding, and he looks resigned, if a little hopeful at the thought of being out of the hospital- it can’t bring back many good memories for him either, Ben reckons. They need to agree to end up here less, in future. He’s sat there, watching him until Callum squeezes his hand, and nods towards the doctor. He says something, but Ben’s eyes are blurring and he’s tired , and he can’t quite be bothered to try and force this any more, especially when it’s not Callum he’s watching. He makes out the words visiting hours and half an hour , and pieces things together.
“Thanks,” Ben replies eventually, and tries not to think about the fact that he has to say goodbye again in half an hour because that feels like way too much.
The doctor smiles at the both of them and they both offer something back - not quite a smile, more of an acknowledgement of it because a smile feels like too much right now - and he walks out of the room. Neither of them talk for a little while, Ben perfectly content to just mess with Callum’s fingers, run his own across the skin and hold them close because they’re warm and it dispels the memories that won’t leave him alone, if only for a minute. There’s so much going on in his head right now and like always, Callum’s touch calms everything.
Maybe a minute later there’s a hand on his head, stroking just gently through his hair to get his attention and he looks up to find Callum looking at him.
“Are you okay?” Callum says, lips moving slowly, carefully and he’s missed this careful consideration so much .
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he says, forcing out a laugh that probably sounds like barely even that, because there’s nothing funny about any of this.
“Ain’t all about me,” Callum replies, his own little forced smile on his face and everything feels wrong .
“I’m terrified, Callum. I’m worried about you, and I’m tired, and I just-” Ben sighs, taking a breath because he’s got no idea where all that came from but Callum certainly doesn’t need it right now. “I’m just worried about you- just want you home, out of this place.”
Sorry- made you worry, Callum signs, hands shaking a little and face apologetic, and it’s just about the most Callum thing that he could have done, because trust him to be apologising for something that Ben would never blame him for. It feels wrong, this apology and the fact that he feels as though he has to make it and Ben just wants to take hold of him, just shake him and say I love you, that’s why I worry about you, and I’m not sorry for that. He’s sure that one day he’ll make him understand- that one day Callum will understand just how much he’s worth, and just how much he means to Ben but it’s baby steps.
“You don’t need to apologise,” Ben says, because he just needs Callum to stop. “I don’t- you don’t need to apologise. I worry about you because I love you , and I certainly ain’t apologising for that.”
It pulls a smile to Callum’s lips, and it feels a little bit real, at least. “I don’t want you to.”
“Good,” Ben replies, and he can feel something in him softening a bit, because this is almost everything he’s missed all this time and it’s almost everything he wants. Except he has to ask-
“How are you feeling? About- about the exam tomorrow?”
Callum’s face drops a little again, and Ben hates himself for ruining it but he has to know, and he’s all too conscious of the way that the minute hand on the clock in the corner is ticking around too fast, he can’t bear to go yet.
Callum looks back up at him eventually and gives him this little smile. It’ll be okay , he signs.
(He’s not sure whether it’s for Ben’s benefit or for his own.)
“I just-” he starts, looks down, then seems to remember and looks back to Ben. “I need you to know that I didn’t mean to- it ain’t how it looks. It was just- an accident.”
Ben gets accident out of the sentence, and something wells up fast in him.
“An accident that left you unconscious on your kitchen floor?” he replies, and he hates himself, hates how he always has to do this. How he always has to get the upper hand, how he always has to get his emotions out like this, but there’s so much warring in his chest right now it was only a matter of time. He’s a ticking bomb, and his life is this game of whether he cares enough to get away before it explodes. “I’m sorry, that was too much.”
“No, Ben- look at me,” Callum replies, and cups Ben’s chin. “You have every right to be angry-”
“But I’m not, Cal, I swear,” he says, taking a hold of Callum’s wrist. “I just- you know, me and my emotions. Got about as much capacity to deal with them as my dad.”
Callum smiles a little at that, and Ben hates himself a little less.
“You’re better than your dad,” Callum says like it’s a gut reaction, like it’s an instant, automatic thought and it’s terrifying, almost- that Callum can see through him so well that he sees the insecurity in his words like that. He sees through everything Ben uses to hide the worst parts of himself away, and something about that is terrifying but it’s also oddly liberating, being loved with no place to hide. Ben tells him to repeat it, mainly because he just needs to see it again, and the words settle somewhere deep in his chest.
“Thank you,” Ben smiles back, because there’s nothing he can say that encapsulates everything that Callum brings out in him. Callum nods anyway, like he understands, and maybe he does-
being loved with no place to hide.
“Thank you for being here,” Callum says after a minute. “I- uh. I heard you. Before.”
It takes Ben a minute, because his brain lags like an old computer right now - he’s working on about a couple hours’ sleep and a cheese sandwich that he had last night that tasted like ash - but then it hits him, and oh .
All those things he’d said when he’d thought Callum was unconscious- the way he’d spilled his guts at Callum’s feet, filled with this irrational fear of if I don’t say it now I might never get to . That weird feeling of being too exposed comes back, and he thinks one day he’ll make peace with it but that’s not today.
“Oh,” he says, and he’s sure there’s a blush climbing across his cheeks. He turns away, because as irrational as it is Ben’s not ready for Callum to say that it’s all too much, that it’s too strong and that he can’t deal with it, can’t deal with Ben-
A hand comes under his chin, gently pulling him up so that he can watch Callum’s lips again, and understand.
“I love you, Ben Mitchell,” Callum says. “More than I ever thought possible.”
(It feels like a simple truth- one that Ben’s sure he’s not worthy of.)
“I love you too,” Ben replies, along with everything else that he wishes he could put to words but can’t. Callum nods though, understands again-
being loved with no place to hide.
Callum looks as though he’s about to say something else when he turns and looks just past Ben, at where he reckons the door is, and nods politely. Ben turns around to look and there’s one of the wardens standing there - Caroline, Ben thinks her name is - just holding the door open. She gestures outside with her hand, and it clicks in Ben’s mind.
Time’s up.
Ben nods and turns back to Callum, hopelessly resigning to the way there’s already tears in his eyes, and no hope of stopping them.
“Hey, don’t cry,” Callum says, and Ben can just imagine the soft voice that he says it in as he brings a hand up to wipe across Ben’s cheek- probably wiping away a tear. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
Ben nods, because he doesn’t trust his own voice. He pulls his hands away from Callum’s and signs the first thing he remembers learning-
I love you .
(Somehow, it seems like more when they say it like that. He’s not sure why- maybe something like it being just for them, a reminder of how much they’ve survived.)
Callum smiles and signs it back, big hands almost fumbling through it.
I love you.
“See you tomorrow, darlin’,” Callum says, and offers a little smile. Ben offers one back and, with willpower he doesn’t have, he turns his back, the warden leading him out of the room.
She leads him all the way to the main entrance, where Lola is stood there waiting for him.
“Is he alright?” Lola might ask - he’s not really sure, through the way the tears in his eyes make everything blur, and he nods.
He falls into her arms and cries into her shoulder. She asks no questions after that.
He cries most of the way home, unable to stop himself- already dreaming of tomorrow.