Sav woke up first.

He yawned, stretching his dissatisfied muscles. Sav glanced around, seeing that there was an obvious path created between the two chairs he and Joe had been in and the strange bed contraption Phil must've put together.

Oh, fuck. That poor nurse who had to move them. Sav realized he had been pushed a few good feet from the bed. Why hadn't he woken up?

Rick was still asleep, although it looked more natural now than being knocked out by drugs. He would probably wake up for real soon.

Sav glanced up at the clock. 8:37.

The bassist decided it was best to leave the others to wake up on their own. Almost on cue with that thought, Phil shifted on top of Steve.

Phil, realizing he was still on top of his sleeping love, quickly stopped moving. He didn't wish to wake Steve - and it was warmer on top of him anyway.

"G'morning, Phil." Sav whispered from the other side of the room, giving a small, sarcastic wave. Phil returned it, a cheeky grin passing his lips.

"G'morning, Sav." A hoarse, mocking voice claimed the silence following after, and Phil shifted his gaze upwards to land on Rick, who was sleepily smirking over at them.

"Rick! Bloody hell.." Sav shot out of his seat, leaning over the bed and giving his friend a gentle hug, avoiding his left side as best as possible.

Rick was desperate for answers. He couldn't remember anything that had happened after he had knocked himself out on the steering wheel. In reality, Rick had gone soaring out the windshield, and the seatbelt had severed his arm.

But Rick remembered none of that.

"Sav, what the fuck happened to my arm?" Rick hissed, motioning to the stitches encircling his shoulder.

Sav pulled away from the hug, finding himself lost for words.

He'll find out eventually. Might as well tell him now.

"Well.. it may or may not have been severed off.." Sav almost whispered, unable to finish.

"And they put it back on?" Rick questioned in astonishment, moving his fingers around in amazement.

"Yeah.. but.." Sav couldn't bring himself to tell Rick that if it got infected, it would have to be amputated for good.

"But?"

"Nothing." Sav murmured, ruffling Rick's hair. "You're a real trooper, mate."

Rick laughed softly.

"I guess you could say that."

Sav smiled sadly.

"I'm gonna sleep s'more. Feel free to wake me if the others wake up."

Phil had fallen asleep again.

"A'ight, Ricky. Sweet dreams." Sav chuckled, turning to go curl up again.

"Wait, Sav.." Rick protested, reaching out with his good arm.

"Yep?" Sav paused, turning back around.

"Will I be able to play drums again?"

Sav found himself not knowing for sure.

"Of course you will, Rick. We aren't giving up on you, so you'd better not give up on yourself. You will play again. In time, mate. In time."

Rick was pleased with this answer, smiling to himself as Sav curled back up on his seat.

And by "seat", it wasn't the chair. It was Joe, who opened one eye before engulfing Sav in his embrace and promptly falling back asleep.

Sav was more than okay with it.

Rick knew he wouldn't fall asleep again.

The pain.

Slow and throbbing, dull and sharp at the same time. As though as every nerve in his arm was being meticulously separated, torn apart by fastidious digits, his arm being sundered and hastily sewn back on over and over in his mind, each shift of his weight tearing more into his flesh. The razors, slivering his skin and peeling it off, shoving their blades deeper and deeper into his muscles and scraping the raw bone; at the same time, the salty tears running down his cheeks becoming more and more prominent with every breath.

"Fucking cut it off." Rick growled, attempting to breathe but alas, unable to fill his lungs.

"Rick? Rick, shit. Phil, call the nurse." Steve's voice broke through Rick's mind, softening the drummer's sobs.

Rick had no idea how long he had been crying for, how long the others had been awake, how long they had been watching him.

Sav was holding his hand on his good arm, gently squeezing and telling Rick that he was there without words.

"Hurts," came the broken cry.

Rick was faintly aware of the nurse rushing into the room and shooting something into his arm before his eyes rolled back into his head.

Sleep.

Infection.

•

"Sav, face it. Even I have. I'll never drum again." Rick was seated on the hospital bed cross-legged, Sav situated next to him. Rick was surprised the bed could bear the weight.

Rick leaned down, resting his weight on his left arm until he realized said 'left arm' was no longer a reality. He had to catch himself on his right arm before he smashed his face into the bed.

"Bullshit, Rick. Of course you can still drum."

"Sav, what the fuck? I can't sprout another arm, and I can't play with only one."

"We'll figure it out, Rick, a'ight? Just don't give up on us, mate. We ain't gonna replace you!" Sav cried out, up to here with Rick's negativity.

Rick only shrugged.

"Maybe you could use that new electric drum shit."

"Yeah, maybe."

Someone pushed the door open. Sav knew who it was before he turned to greet the newcomer: no one else smelled like sex, Phil Collen, and (strangely) honey more than the great and wonderful Steve Clark.

"Hey, Rick. How're you doin', mate?" Steve grinned goofily, plopping down on the bed next to them, not sensing the depressing mood of the room.

Again, Rick was surprised the cot hadn't given out on them yet.

"I'm doing as best as I can be, mate. You?" Rick tried his best to strike up a friendly conversation, the heavy weight of the previous one with Sav still seated on his shoulders, taunting him quietly.

No, Sav is right. I will drum again.

"Alright." Steve smiled, holding back his sympathy as best as he could. Rick hated sympathy, but Steve couldn't help it.

"Where are the others?" Sav asked, wondering why there hadn't been an onslaught of more band members in through the door yet.

"Joe's trying to sit down and write some more stuff. We don't want to take a long time between albums, y'know. And Phil is off grocery shopping, he'll be stopping over here after everything is taken care of." Steve answered fully, smiling genuinely.

"How can you even think about a new album? It barely feels like the new one has been out a month!" Rick spat out, mostly angry that he hadn't been informed they were writing again.. which could mean he had been kicked out.

"Rick.. Pyromania has been out a year next week." Sav murmured, raising an eyebrow.

"Whatever."

Sav and Steve exchanged worried glances.

"You can write too, y'know. You're still in the band, and you still play for us. For Def Leppard." Steve gently replied, biting his lip softly.

Rick didn't look at him.

"I can ask Phil to bring some paper and a pen for you, if you'd like." Steve pushed, already reaching for the phone because he knew the answer would be yes.

"Fine."

Steve smiled, dialing their home number. Phil must be home by now.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Philly. Can you bring a spare notebook and some pens when you come over here please? Rick wants to start writing for the album, and there's nothing here to write on or with."

"A'ight, I'll bring 'em. We gotta find some way to make it so he can still play, though."

"Already working on it. Love you, Phil. See you in thirty."

"Yep. Love you too, Steverooni."

Click.

Rick was left to wonder what Steve was "working on" as he slipped into an involuntary snooze.