Fugue by alyse [ - ]
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Category: CI5: The New Professionals > Slash
Characters: Chris Keel
Rating: PG
Genres: Angst
Warnings: None

Summary: ABC fic, where there are 26 sentences and each one begins with a different letter of the alphabet, in order, starting from a random point.

Ignored by the bustling doctors and nurses, Chris could only watch helplessly as they tended to his partner. Juggling yet another unit of whole blood, a nurse pushed past him, relegating him once again to the sidelines. Knowing that there was nothing more he could do, he had to hover there, watching while they attempted to put his partner back together.

Lacerations covered Sam's poor battered body, some bleeding heavily and many requiring stitching. Multiple bruises covered those parts of skin not torn and bleeding. Not a mark, however, marred his lover's face. Only the pallor of Sam's skin and the dark, almost bruised looking skin underneath nearly translucent eyelids showed something was amiss when you looked at Sam's face.

Perfectly symmetrical bruising adorned both his wrists, where he'd been chained while beaten and tortured. Quivering with fury, he let his eyes rest on those marks while his mind wrestled with the thought of someone tying up and torturing - torturing - his Sam, his partner, his lover, his friend.

Ranting and raving wasn't going to help Sam now, and that was the only reason that Chris didn't lose it entirely, didn't give in to the acid rage consuming him, churning up his insides. Sam needed him now and needed him calm and cool, or as calm and cool as he could manage under the circumstances. The least he could do was try not to freak out because he didn't want Sam to wake up and see his partner losing his mind.

Unless Sam never woke up.

Vaguely terrified by the thought, he refused to consider it and pushed it down into the deepest, darkest corner of his mind that he could find. Wishing desperately, hopefully for some sign that his partner was going to wake up, and wake up soon, even twitch under the ministrations of the medics surrounding his cage-like bed.

X-rays were taken and blood work done and still Sam didn't move, moan, twitch, anything. Yearning desperately for some sign, Chris slouched in the corner of the room, refusing to leave Sam, his eyes never leaving his partner's pale face. Zombie like, Sam lay on the bed, tubes coming out of him from all angles, and Chris had to suppress the urge to whimper in echoed pain at the sight of the most important person in his life suffering like this.

After the medical staff had finished, and Sam was adorned in pristine bandages, they abandoned the pair of them in a private room and Chris sank down into the visitor's chair, his eyes drinking in the sight of his partner. Battered, bloody, beaten but wonderfully, marvellously alive, and likely to stay that way. Concerned whispers had been shared among the doctors, something about Sam's lack of responsiveness, but Chris had tuned them out to a certain extent, convinced it was due to the drugs that had been administered both by the medical staff here and by Sam's elusive captors. Done his best to assure the medics of that and they'd smiled and said that he had a good point, and no doubt Sam would wake up shortly, hurting but on the road to recovery.

Eons passed. Finally Sam moved, his eyes fluttering open.

Grabbing tight hold of his lover's hand, Chris leant over the bed, a beaming smile on his face to greet Sam's awakening with the sight of something familiar, safe and reassuring.

His heart sank, however, on meeting his lover's eyes and seeing nothing in them - no recognition, no awareness, nothing but emptiness.

The End