Advice from Owl: have a box of tissues on hand for this one.

   Jack awoke once again to a quiet, steady beeping echoing through the room. Curled up on his chest was the sleeping form of his husband, his long black hair matted in sweat and sticking to his forehead. His sunken eyes were set close to gaunt cheekbones, and his mouth held frown lines curling all around it. He was dressed, as he has been for weeks now, in a white hospital gown. Wires stuck out from every inch of his skin, injecting him with a toxic cocktail of drugs which simultaneously killed him and healed him. The big question was which power was stronger.

Sighing, Jack slid off the bed, laying Mark's head gently onto the pillow. Heading out into the hallway in search of coffee, he nodded to a few of the doctors and nurses rushing past him. He walked into the cafeteria and walked straight to the coffee shop. The man at the counter, who had become familiar with Jack during his time there, immediately started preparing Jack's normal order.

Grabbing his newly-made drink, Jack walked into the center of the room, sitting down heavily next to a doctor he and Mark had been working with. The woman greeted him warmly, the morning sunshine streaming through the windows lighting up her face.

"How's Mark doing this morning?" she asked as Jack took the first sip of his coffee. He nodded slowly. "He's doing better. The new meds are really helping him out." She smiled reassuringly. "Slowly but surely, Jack. He's getting there." He nodded again, taking a longer gulp of his beverage in the hopes of waking up a bit. "I'll be up to check on him later this afternoon, okay?" she said, standing up and patting his arm. "See you then," he murmured, turning back to his drink.

When he returned to the room upstairs, Mark was awake and smiling, though Jack could still sense the pain behind the facade. "Morning, Clover," he whispered as Jack drew closer. "Morning, cripple." Jack smirked, though fatigue leaked into his voice. "How are you this morning?" Mark groaned. "I miss coffee," he muttered. Jack laughed. "I'll see if you can have it again now that you're doing better." Mark sighed, but nodded.

"Do you have to go to work today?" he asked. Jack shook his head, walking over to the bed and sitting down on the edge. "Felix said I can work from here again. He's been really great about the whole thing." Mark frowned, but his expression quickly changed, the corners of his lips quirking up. "I have a proposition for you," he suggested to Jack, steepling his fingers over his chest. "Okay, let's hear it, love," Jack said, ducking his head quickly to kiss the tip of Mark's nose. Mark swatted him away, then continued. "I challenge you to live for a full day without me."

Jack furrowed his eyebrows, and had just opened his mouth to argue when Mark cut him off. "I know that sounds completely ridiculous, but think about it. You need to get some work done, and you know you're more productive at the office than you are here. You can also visit Chica and Gizmo, since they've been at Bob and Mandy's for a while now. Plus, you can go home and sleep in a real bed for once."

As nice as the offer sounded, Jack still refused. "I don't want to leave you alone," he said stubbornly. Mark sighed. "I won't be alone for very long," he said reassuringly. "24 hours?" Jack asked. "You can come back in 24 hours," Mark confirmed. "You worry too much," he added, flicking Jack's cheek.

"Okay, love," Jack conceded. He stood up and stretched before turning back to the bed and drawing Mark in for one more kiss. He straightened and walked to the door, but paused just before the doorframe. "I love you," he said solemnly to Mark. The Korean man nearly burst into tears right there, but somehow he managed to keep himself together. "I love you too," Mark replied.

As Jack left the room, he added, "Forever and always," before letting tears flow freely down his face.

~

Jack couldn't sleep.

Work had been painful, but at least in the cubicle there had been something to distract him from the gnawing inside his ribcage. Lying in bed staring at the ceiling was utterly torturous. He couldn't keep his mind off Mark, and had he not been so stubborn, he might have left the house and returned to the hospital. Instead, he leaned over to the stereo on his desk and turned up the music until it pounded loud enough to drown out his thoughts. He fell asleep sometime that morning, anxiety still pressing on his chest.

~

When the young man woke the next morning, his first movement was to check the time on the old clock hanging next to his bed. As his bleary eyes slowly adjusted to the light now filling the room, he leaped out of bed, cussing loudly. A string of quite colorful language, uttered for no particular reason, followed him down the stairs as he grabbed his car keys and ran out the door.

It was a miracle he didn't get pulled over on the way to the hospital, but he made it there in record time. He jumped out of the car, barely remembering to lock it before sprinting inside to see Mark. He had been in this building virtually the entire time Mark had, and he was eager to continue that trend, for the sole purpose of spending more time with his husband.

The door dinged as Jack shoved it open, and the nurse working her shift at the front desk looked up, her expression changing to one of familiarity, and then, oddly enough, to one of sympathy. "Hey Jack," she greeted. "Dr. Snow wants to talk to you." He nodded absentmindedly, continuing to walk towards the stairs. "Okay, I'll go up there as soon as I get done in Mark's room." She stepped in front of me. "She wants to talk to you now," she insisted. Jack seemed to finally realize what she was saying, and hesitated before nodding. "Okay," he nodded, a crease forming between his eyebrows. She walked away from him, resuming her work at the desk as he headed up the stairs.

The farther up the stairs Jack got, the more nauseated he felt. He shook his head, blowing off his nervousness as symptoms of his withdrawal from Mark, but a part of him knew that he was in denial. He reached the correct floor, and paused for a second to collect his thoughts before pushing the door open gently. The white-haired woman looked up as he walked in, and the look she gave him nearly broke his heart. "I'm sorry, Jack," she said, her voice cracking from the hurt buried in it.

It hit him. The pain roared over Jack like a tsunami, and he collapsed into a chair, ignoring the doctor's vain attempts to comfort him. His eyes seemed to be dry, but god, he should have been crying his eyes out. It fucking hurt – the crushing pain on his ribs, the constant heat on the back of his neck, the stabbing on his temples, the ache in each of his bones.

After a few minutes, when he was no longer hysterical, the doctor silently handed him a small sheet of paper. It was short, only sixteen words, but it was Jack's catalyst. He finally fell over the edge, bursting into tears at the sight of Mark's steady, scrawling handwriting.

You did it, darling. Now you have to do it every day. Love forever and always.

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry

I love you all I promise I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry

~ Owl