*TW: blood*

The drive home after Derek had finally caved in was an easy one to accomplish.

He hardly had to coax Garte to let him drive the both of them to the Ro'Meave house. Even Garte knew that it was hardly safe for him to drive while his mind and body were coming down from a flight or fight reaction.

The two of them spoke no words during that drive home. No music was played; they were even self conscious of their breathing. They were completely immersed by the ear flooding noises of driving by the time they pulled up to the driveway.

Derek moved in a robotic-like way and stepped out of his car. If he was the fully functioning machine, Garte was the poorly oiled one. His movements were slow and anxious. Had his brain been truly made up of code alone, it would've been evident as he moved that there was some error in that supposed cohesive mix of zeros and ones.

Garte eventually stepped out of Derek's vehicle, gently slamming the door shut and shoving his hands into his pockets. His movement became more fluid as he walked over to the hidden Ultima. Nothing was exchanged other than their breath's precipitation just meeting as it faded away.

The lights in the Ro'Meave house were dim. On, but only enough to see. Garte found himself questioning this, but only for a moment until he realized the time. In the naked hours of the morning, he could only hope that his home was dimly lit and quiet.

It was hard to tell how much time had past since they had pulled up to the house. It may have been one minute, or several, but in his blank staring of his home Garte saw his wife come outside. She didn't even bother closing the front door, leaving the cold to seep in through a screen that could not provide any insulation.

Zianna walked out to meet her husband quickly. She was livid, exhausted, and heartbroken. Seeing Garte there, with Derek, healthy and strong still, was a relief to her. However, that was overshadowed by any negative emotion she felt. She stopped herself just steps in front of her lover.

"Where have you been?!" She exclaimed, not even holding back to greet him first.

Garte glanced at Derek. If you were to ask him why he did so, he wouldn't be able to tell you. Amidst the bitter cold and the awkwardness of having a third person present for a marital dispute, it was nearly instinct for him to look at his best friend.

"No, answer for yourself, Garte," Zianna commanded him. "I don't want to hear from him, I want to hear from you. Tell me: what the hell were you thinking leaving us alone for three nights?! Leaving me alone with three children!"

Garte noted that she would never use Garroth and any reference to his imminent death in the same sentence. While he had to repeat it to himself to cope, she was physically incapable of hearing it.

"I-I'm sorry," Garte stuttered out. It was all he could say.

"Sorry?!" Zianna exclaimed, laughing and tearing up. "Garroth has been begging for you for days! And what have you been doing?!"

She stepped forward with aggressive movement. The only thing keeping her warm was the tears she was trying so hard to resist from falling down her cheeks. She rose her right hand and struck at Garte's chest, still only covered by the messy white button down.

"Why is your self loathing more important than me, than your children?!" She cried as she continuously and clumsily struck his chest.

Garte was shocked by the physical aggression. And yet, he didn't move. He didn't speak, or cry, or panic. He stood there and took every hit. He took the bluntness of her words and made sure to memorize how she looked in her distressed state.

Derek, on the other hand, was shocked. He found himself getting defensive, and stepping forward to try and separate Zianna from Garte. As he tried to intercede, Garte upheld his hand to stop him. Derek looked at the ever passive man, with his blank stare that wasn't taken away from his wife.

"Let her do it," Garte said. "She needs it. It's well deserved."

Derek receded back into his awkward stance. He almost felt like he was watching a movie as Zianna placed her face in her hands and shoved herself into her husband's chest. As she sobbed, Garte cautiously wrapped his arms around her. He held her like he hadn't for months.

Derek shifted his eyes left and lifted bitterly cold face. In the doorway, just pulling open the screen door, he saw a small figure. His heart dropped and became as bitterly cold as the climate.

Garte couldn't help but glance at Derek while he was holding his crying wife. His eyes were lured up in his natural curiosity of what his friend was so shocked about. He was but horrified at the sight of the small and indisposed child.

Without their knowledge, the exact same questions ran through Garte and Derek's mind when they saw Garroth. How long had he been standing there? Did he witness the fighting? What could he have possibly been standing there for, was there something he needed?

Derek, with but a moment's hesitation, tapped Garte's shoulder as his signal that he was going to go take care of Garroth. He rushed past the heartbroken couple to the child that encapsulated all of their love and affection.

Leaving Garte and Zianna in the bitter winter cold, Derek met little Garroth just at the screen door. He pushed the door open just wide enough so that he could slide through and remove the little one from the situation. He took Garroth's hand into his grip after he requested for the child to come with him with an outstretched hand.

Derek shut the front door tightly, but was careful not to lock it. He stared down at Garroth, who had seemed to age ten years since he last saw him. He was shocked that Garroth was even able to stand at that point.

"Why are Momma and Daddy fighting?" Garroth asked Derek with his voice shaking and tears nearly spilling out.

"Oh, no, buddy," Derek instinctively replied as he saw Garroth was about to cry. "It's just too cold out there to be in just your pajamas."

"Can I wear my jacket and go give a hug to Daddy?" Garroth yawned.

Derek shook his head in response, "Let's keep you in here until they come in, hm?"

"Please? I wanna see him," Garroth rubbed his eye.

"I know you miss your dad. Why don't we wait a few minutes, and when he comes in you can warm him up with a hug?"

Derek began walking towards the kitchen. He turned on the dim lights. While he did so, he turned around and saw Garroth standing behind him. In a swift motion, he picked up the child with much more strength than turned out to be needed. He sat Garroth down on the counter and leaned against the surface next to him, so at this point they were talking at eye level.

"Do you need anything, bud? What were you doing at the door?" Derek asked.

Garroth coughed. Not a scratchy, dry cough, but rather a heavy cough that took the entirety of his body's effort. He shuddered briefly in response, but looked back at Derek.

"I wanted to see if Momma knows where my blankie is," Garroth explained.

That soft, small blue blanket had stuck around with Garroth since he was small. When he had nightmares, it would sometimes be the blanket alone that could comfort him. The light texture provided some kind of sensory comfort when the world just became too overwhelming for his already quick moving mind.

Derek was taken aback by the explanation, however, because he hadn't thought of that blanket since Garroth was but a toddler. He never knew of Melissa or Aaron's comfort items. They were never anything that crossed his mind.

"Did you fall asleep with it?" Derek inquired.

Garroth nodded as vigorously as he could, "Mmhm! And when I woke up, it was gone!"

"Well, we'll be sure to ask her when she comes in," Derek paused for a moment. "Do you need anything else? Are you hungry?"

Garroth nodded tiredly as his energy was already drained by his previous nod. His sunken eyes begin to blink slowly as the life left in his little body slipped out just a bit more.

Derek smiled in response and walked over to the refrigerator. He yanked open the door and the bright, white light immediately shone on his face. He grabbed a basic cup of applesauce, peeled off the foil top, and set the cup down on the counter. Once he got a spoon from the drawer closest to the refrigerator, he handed the applesauce to Garroth.

"Thank you," Garroth said and began to clumsily eat with the spoon.

"No problem, kiddo," Derek returned to leaning against the counter.

Garroth ate two more spoonfuls as quickly as he could. His face was so pale, and his eyes were so tired and sunken. Derek recalled a time when Garte looked the same way during a depressive episode years prior.

The difference was that amongst Garroth's pallor, his cheeks were flushed. That bright red was striking against the boy's scarily light complexion.

As he lifted his third spoonful to his mouth, Garroth was struck with a sharp pain throughout his torso. He dropped his spoon on the counter next to him. His hand instinctively grasped his chest while he leaned forward.

The sound of the spoon hitting the counter caused Derek's attention to snap to Garroth. He rushed over to him while his mind was blaring with alarm and adrenaline. He realized it was so much worse than he originally thought when Garroth couldn't even cry from the pain.

"What's wrong, Garroth? What hurts?" Derek asked, desperately trying to get a sense of the situation.

"My heart hurts," Garroth uttered out. He was unable to form the words to describe that he felt like his body was burning from the inside out.

Derek concluded that Garroth likely meant his chest, as his hand wasn't gripping where his heart was located. Derek placed a hand on the little one's back. He was scared to even touch Garroth out of fear that he would cause more pain.

In a shocking moment that was out of anyone's control, Garroth's mouth spewed out bright red blood. The crimson liquid hit the floor and served as a screaming warning to Derek.

He glanced at Garroth who still had the remnants of the first ejections of blood draining from his mouth. With his live-giving liquid draining onto his shirt and pants and his chest in even more pain that it was in, Garroth coughed again. This time, it was that much more vivid. That much more of a deep, haunting red.

"Okay, okay," Derek attempted not to freak out. He knew that becoming frantic would only scare Garroth and make the situation worse. "You're alright, pal. You're going to be okay."

Derek snatched a paper towel from the roll across the counter in a frantic panic. Garroth lifted his head up to face Derek, even though the entirety of his body was throbbing. The blood draining from his mouth was now mixing with tears draining from his eyes.

"C-Can you get Daddy now, please?" Garroth stuttered.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go get your mom and dad," Derek handed Garroth the paper towels. He hardly knew what to do in this situation. "Call for us if you need anything, alright? I'll be back with your parents in just a moment."

Garroth nodded, still holding back sobs. He watched as Derek ran out of the room. While the adults were trying to keep Garroth from a lot of the horrors of his condition, he knew what was going on. He knew that there was something incredibly wrong with him.

Derek rushed to the door and was thankful he didn't lock it. He was horrified at the thought of wasting time. He knew how medical things went down - 1 minute can make all the difference. He opened the door to see Garte and Zianna, who were now on the porch and leaning against the railing  of the stairs. They appeared as two awkward teenagers on their first date who were barely acquainted before going out.

"How bad has it been lately?" He heard Zianna's voice say.

"Just been worse ever since-" Garte began, but was cut off by the sudden presence of Derek and his anxious breathing. "Derek? You okay?"

"You guys need to come in, now," Derek breathed out. "It's bad."

He heard the splash of blood hitting the floor and Garroth coughing for a third time. He turned around and faced two of his closest friends with fear written on his face.

"Garroth's coughing up blood," Derek sputtered out.

With their hearts beating faster than they ever had before, Garte and Zianna ran inside. Somehow surpassing Zianna, Garte reached the kitchen first. He knelt down to Garroth's level, who was still on the counter, still crying, and still spewing up his life giving substance that once flowed throughout his body.

Zianna reached Garroth next. She knelt down to Garroth, right next to Garte. Derek was right behind the two parents, ready to jump in and help with anything at any moment.

"H-Hi, Daddy," Garroth tried to say cheerfully even though he sobbed the greeting out. He rubbed his eye with his hand, which spread the blood on his face.

"Hi, little man," Garte furrowed his eyebrows and tried his best to mask his anxiety.

"I missed you," Garroth sniffled, which in turn only made him cough up more blood.

"I missed you too, buddy," Garte placed a hand on the side of his son's head. "I know you're not going to want to, Garroth, but we need to go to the hospital."

Garroth could sense the urgency in his father's voice. Even in that soothing, calming presence he begged for so long for, there was panic. He could also see the concern welling up in his mother's eyes.

In his own sense of panic, Garroth then realized what he had even gone outside for.

"Can I have my blankie in the car, please?" He begged.

"Oh, GarGar," Zianna said as she stood up and cupped his blood covered face. "I'm so sorry, baby. I had to wash it after you fell asleep for that little bit. It's still wet right now."

Garroth's eyes welled with more tears, his lip trembling, "Can... Can you dry it so fast, please?"

"I'm so sorry, sweet boy," Zianna said with tears welling up in her own eyes. "We've gotta go for just a little while without it."

"Please, Momma?"

Garte stood up to intercept the conversation. He certainly wasn't mad that Zianna was doing her best to comfort Garroth, but they had little time for that kind of back and forth. As he stood up, he offered his hands out to Garroth.

"I promise you we'll get it before the sun comes up. Right now, buddy, we have to go," Garte explained gently, but affirmatively.

Derek was so incredibly shocked at the scene that was unfolding. He saw Garroth deteriorate quicker as the blood poured out of his mouth. Something in him knew that if he didn't act quick, not even his parents would have much time left with him.

Garte held Garroth tightly in his grip. He shushed him as though the boy was a baby once again. As Garroth coughed again, staining Garte's white shirt with fresh blood, the sense of emergency grew in the minds of everyone in the room.

"Derek, I hate to ask," Garte began, shaking his head and rubbing Garroth's back in a circular motion.

Despite what the Ro'Meaves thought, Derek was happy to stay. "Go," he told Garte, motioning towards the door.

"Thank you," Garte said as relief washed over him. "We'll call you when we can."

With that, Garte and Zianna rushed out the door. It was going to be an incredibly long night, not just for the Ro'Meaves.

With a moment of silence after the chaos, Derek let himself breathe. The time went by slowly while he impatiently waited for news, even if Garte and Zianna had just left moments prior.

He took out his phone, texting his wife and letting her know what was going on. She wouldn't see it until morning, of course, but it at least was something. He scrolled through his contacts and reached one specific one. He sighed as he made the decision to press the call button.

The phone rang loudly in his ear. With every ring, Derek's heart beat faster. He was certain that his heart wasn't beating when the phone was finally picked up.

"Hi there, Derek," the menacing voice over the phone said. Ignoring the mocking tone, Derek replied quickly.

"Hi, Michael. I think it's time we talk."