Getting There

Mark didn't look over when the chair next to him shifted.

He knew he should, but he just kept staring at his handcuffs, fiddling with them in his lap to fight the urge to get up. There was barely anyone in the waiting room now, which emphasized the silence between them. Mark grappled desperately for something to say. How did he even begin to unpack the biggest regret of his life, much less to Carter of all people? Sweat pooled in the small of his back, and suddenly, the room felt too hot.

You can't do this, his inner voice screamed. You don't deserve his forgiveness.

"Are you guys friends?"

It took Mark by surprise. Sitting up a bit, he shot Carter a weird look. "What?"

"Darren. Is he your friend?"

"What kind of question is that? You know I work for him," Mark bit back too harshly. The same guilt he'd come to associate with Carter twisted painfully in his stomach. He really was trying, but old habits died hard.

Thankfully, it wasn't enough to push Carter away. "I know, it's just... I figured I'd ask. In case you wanted to talk about why I did what I did."

He's blaming himself. Mark wasn't at all surprised. Nevermind that there were three sets of hands on the gun; Carter would take responsibility for Darren's outcome because that's just who Carter was. The dagger in Mark's gut plunged deeper as he reminded himself who made him that way in the first place.

But the question did make Mark pause — was Darren his friend? He hadn't given the notion much thought before, and he doubted Darren would say yes if asked. Unfortunately, the answer didn't come as easily to him. It was no secret that Darren was an asshole, but his shit personality was something Mark could look past.

The truth was, no one else understood him the way Darren could, not even Amber. Mark knew deep down Darren hired him for good reasons. He gave him more clients than any of his other dealers, and it wasn't because of Mark's mediocre selling skills. In his own backwards way, Darren was looking out for him. Did that equate to friendship? Mark didn't know. There was only one thing he could say for sure.

"I just want him to be okay."

"Yeah," Carter said roughly, leaning back in his chair. "Me too."

As if on cue, the doors leading to the operating rooms burst open. Mark sat up, only to slouch again when the doctor walked past them to a family seated a few chairs down. He couldn't hear whether or not it was good news, but that didn't stop him from lingering on the little girl sitting in her mother's lap. She looked nothing like his sister, but something about her eyes reminded him of Josie's — back when they still held some light.

She brought his family back to the forefront of his mind. Mark glanced at Carter, "Thanks. For, uh, Ronnie and my sisters. Amber told me they're at your house."

Carter shrugged. "It was her idea... I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't let it go."

"Because you told her about my mom?" Mark made sure to not come off accusatory. He couldn't be mad at Carter for doing what he should've done years ago. Not anymore.

"No, actually. I didn't tell her anything," Carter said, eyeing Mark quizzically. "She just wanted to get them and your phone."

"So...she really put all this together herself? The deal, my family..."

Carter only shrugged. "I guess so. Honestly, I'm surprised she didn't drag it out of you years ago. She can be kind of an asshole when she wants to know something."

From anyone else, Mark would've assumed it was an insult, but Carter's affectionate tone was too obvious not to notice. The smile that followed only made Mark feel worse; it hadn't changed at all since they were kids. Sure, Mark saw him laughing in the halls with his friends, but the smile he was wearing now was specific to her.

"She told you she loves you." He didn't know what made him say it, and based on Carter's face, he wasn't expecting it either.

"Uh, yeah. In the heat of it all, you know." Carter's leg bounced next to Mark's. "But I'm sure she didn't mean it like, literally."

"She did." Mark didn't have to think twice about it. "She always has. Even back then... and I knew it."

It barely hinted at the falling out, but the mood shifted nonetheless. Flashes from that night resurfaced against Mark's will, all of them focused around Carter. For so many years, Mark fought to forget the pain in his eyes that night to justify shutting him out. Now, staring at the only friend he ever lost, all he could see was the boy he hurt seven years ago.

When the smile fell from Carter's face, Mark knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.

"Look, Mark, about everything—"

"Don't." He met Carter's eye for the first time in years. "Just don't, ok? We both know you're not the one who should be apologizing."

Carter studied him for a beat. "Was that supposed to be yours?"

Mark cringed and looked back at his handcuffs. Turns out, he was still a coward.

"No...my apology is more than that. It covers a lot and is long overdue, but I mean every word of it. It starts with regret for that night at my house and what my mom did to you. A close second is making you cut Amber off because I shouldn't have punished you for my own insecurities. An apology for yesterday is in there too, especially for the punch," taking a deep breath, Mark finally looked up again, "but most of all, I'm sorry for blaming you all these years for something that was never your fault. I'm just sorry, Carter. For everything."

They were the only two left in the waiting room now, the faint beeping of monitors playing on a loop in the background. Mark had no idea what time it was, so there was no way to know how long Carter went without saying a word, his leg still bouncing.

Finally, he shot Mark a somber look. "I'm sorry, too."

Jesus, the guy couldn't help himself. Mark sighed. "For what?"

"You shut me out, Mark, but I let you. We've had years to do this, and I had just as much opportunity to make it happen as you. I should've fought harder, or made you talk to me, or—"

"It doesn't matter," Mark interrupted, settling further into the seat. "We're doing it now, right?"

Nodding, Carter turned his attention to the chairs across from them, then smirked.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just," sitting back until their shoulders nearly brushed, Carter tried to bite back his grin, "I kinda wish you punched me a while ago. If I knew that's all it took to break the ice, I would've let you do it in sixth grade."

Mark snorted before he could catch himself, but it was no use once Carter cracked too. Mark's chest felt light as they laughed together, only for a moment, but long enough to count. Long enough to matter.

Finally, Carter looked at Mark with less hesitance than before. "So... we're ok? I mean, at least for Amber's sake—"

He was cut short by the doors to the hallway bursting open, but instead of Amber, Mark found a very drunk Chloe standing in the threshold with a very tired Tori by her side.

"Holy shit, there you guys are!" Chloe made a beeline for their chairs. Mark barely avoided falling out of his when she jumped into his lap, his hands still bound. "We found you, we found you!"

"You found us," Mark grumbled through a mouth full of her hair. He was relieved when Tori helped her back up and steadied her with a hand around her waist.

"Did the cops find you, too?" Chloe slurred, throwing an arm over Tori's shoulders. "Calling them was all this one's idea. We're just sitting there, trying not to fuck like Amber said, and poof! The thought hits her out of nowhere. Next thing ya know, we're dialling 911!"

"It's a great story, babe. Maybe reserve it for parties instead of a quiet hospital," Tori said, trying and failing to get Chloe to sit in her own seat.

Babe? Fuck? Mark turned to Carter for clarity, but he just shrugged. "I don't know."

"Where's Amber?" Finally sitting, Chloe leaned heavily against Mark's shoulder. "I gotta tell her I found you. She was like, real pressed about it earlier."

"I'll go get her." Carter got to his feet. "I'm sure she'll wanna see you, too. Hopefully she's done with the police by now."

With Chloe still hanging off his shoulder, Mark watched Carter until he reached the double doors.

"Hey, Carter?"

He stopped short, resting his hand against the door. "Yeah?"

For the first time in a long time, Mark didn't feel sick when he looked at him. They weren't anywhere near perfect, but they weren't hopeless, either. At this point, that's all Mark could ask for; where they went from here was still up in the air.

But he could say one thing for sure.

"We're ok."