TW: Mentions of injury and implications of self harm

Zianna remembered when she thought of Derek as a brother, just as her husband did.

Though her husband and the Ultima were always a tight pair, she was quite fond of him as well. Their families got along for many years. Derek, Rachel, Melissa, and Aaron were over at the Ro'Meave house quite often when Derek and Garte would discuss business affairs. They were business partners, but first and foremost, they were best friends.

That all spiraled down the drain when Derek questioned Zianna's third pregnancy with Vylad.

It had been a brief affair, one while Garte was away for six weeks getting psychiatric help. She didn't blame him, she couldn't. But she was so desperate for the love and affection her husband had been denying her when he had been at his lowest.

She hadn't meant to fall pregnant, of course. Zane had only been born several months prior. She felt guilty enough and knew that her relationship with Garte would never be the same, and that was assuming he wouldn't immediately divorce her. She put off telling Garte the truth, until she absolutely had to.

When she told him she was pregnant, he was still in his recovery phase. He smiled, and put on a happy facade for her, even though she knew he wasn't ready for a third child. Hell, he really hadn't been ready for a second.

Garte told Derek the news. At first Derek was happy, but his own nosiness got the better of him. He found it odd, and encouraged Garte to at least ask about Zianna's pregnancy. He figured, what could go wrong? If she had an affair, Garte would know the truth and be able to take steps from there.

When Garte asked her about it, she broke down in tears and confessed everything. She had expected him to lash out, to be so incredibly angry with her. She was ready to be presented with divorce papers in the next couple days.

But oh, how gentle he was.

Zianna could see the tears in his eyes as he gently  took her hand into his own. His beautiful hands that held her so tenderly, that could hurt nobody but himself. He forced a soft smile, and told her everything was going to be okay. That he loved her, no matter what, and he wasn't angry at her.

However, she was frustrated with Derek. That was hers to tell Garte, not his to snoop around and find out.

"Come on, Derek, you can out something that's not your business, but you can't tell me why my husband is barely conscious from a head injury?!" She said over the phone.

Derek froze. It wasn't so much something that he didn't want to tell her, but he knew that revealing their background with Michael and his potions would be remarkably dangerous. He took a deep breath, getting ready to speak.

"Derek," Zianna hissed through gritted teeth.

"Okay, okay." Derek relented. "We were having a meeting with Michael, Zack, and Elizabeth. And... things got a bit heated."

"Heated how?"

"Michael called Vylad a bastard." Derek paused. "And you know how he hates that."

Zianna paused. She hated when anyone called Vylad names for his paternity, but not nearly as much as Garte did. He held that little baby the day he was born, kissed his forehead and declared him his son, and that was that.

"But that doesn't tell me what happened." Zianna's tone softened a bit.

Derek nodded, though Zianna couldn't see that over the phone. He came up with something on the spot, something that could sound somewhat believable.

"He went to take a hit at Michael." Derek said, telling the truth before he lied. "Michael pushed him and just... overpowered him. He beat in his head pretty good."

Zianna took in another breath, and after a few moments thanked Derek and hung up her call with him. She sat down in the uncomfortable plastic chair, worried and restless even though she was exhausted.

After what felt like hours, Garte was admitted into the hospital. They gave him a room, wanting to keep him overnight. Zianna immediately caught up to the doctors who were caring for him.

"His CT was clear." Dr. Everett smiled softly. "It seems to be a severe concussion, but he's going to be okay with proper care."

"And his ankle?" Zianna asked.

"Showed no breaks. It's just sprained, so we wrapped it up for him. He'll hopefully get some rest for now. We'll keep him overnight, just to make sure we can get to him right away if anything goes wrong."

Zianna nodded, and turned to her husband who looked so peaceful in his deep sleep. He had a bandage over the cut on his forehead and was pale, but he was going to be okay. He breathed slowly. She took note of the fact that his facial hair was beginning to grow in.

"Doctor," she whispered softly in a curious tone. "His head injury. How will it affect his mental health issues?"

Dr. Everett drew in a breath. He glanced at his chart again, noting Garte's many changes and episodes with his mental health. He bit the inside of his cheek and looked up at Zianna.

"It's difficult to say. We won't know until he's awake and better for a while. But it could have a significant impact on his mental health. We just have to wait and see."

Zianna nodded at this response, but she felt her heart crushing. She knew how devastated he'd be by this news, knowing that his issues, especially his ADHD, could get much worse. She took in a shaky breath, and sat down next to Garte.

She slept in the chair next to him with her hand on his arm. He woke up a few hours later, the sun just shining into the room, and gently nudged her hand to awake her. His eyes were only about half open. Even the soft morning glow hurt his eyes.

Zianna sat up after feeling his soft nudging. Her back and neck ached slightly, but she knew it was nothing compared to the pain her husband was feeling. She smiled softly when she saw he was awake and sat down on the bed next to him with her hand in his.

"Hey, you. Good morning." She smiled as she stroked the back of his hand.

"Hi, beautiful." He smiled softly. His head pounded intensely.

Zianna took a good look at his tired and weary expression. She could see he was attempting to smile for her sake, but it warmed her heart he was trying to be in good spirits.

"Am I dying?" Garte teased quietly.

"No." Zianna shook her head and laughed softly. "But you have a severe concussion. I know you probably felt like you were dying."

"Yeah." He whispered. "But it's just a concussion?"

Zianna nodded, now running her fingers through his blond hair. He embraced the touch as much as he could. He knew she just wanted to comfort him, to give him any semblance of peace even though he was on high doses of pain medication.

"Is my ankle broken?" He asked with a voice only just above mumbling.

Zianna shook her head, "Nope. Just a sprain."

Garte took a soft breath of relief. He was glad his ankle wasn't broken, though he was shocked that it hadn't been. When he landed, he could have sworn he felt something out of place. But, it seems that he got lucky overall.

"This is growing out," Zianna said with a smile as she placed a hand on Garte's cheek. He had always been so clean shaven.

"I'll shave when I can stand," he responded.

"No, no. Keep it," Zianna pauses. "It looks good on you."

Garte's smile widened, a bit of a blush appearing on his cheeks. He had never considered growing out a beard, but with his wife adoring it, he figured there wasn't any harm in doing so.

Several moments passed. Zianna continued stroking his soft curls and combing through the tangles that had only just formed. The curtains were shut, with only the softest light peeking through as they sat together.

With his eyes open, Garte could only adore her. There was never a moment he didn't find her beautiful. Not a second went by that his heart didn't beat for her. Like Orpheus, he would go back every time for his Eurydice.

"You're staring," Zianna teased, noticing his half-open gaze.

"You're pretty," he responded simply. His head hurt too badly to think of anything more profound, and he doubted he'd make any sense while saying it.

But, Zianna's heart melted just as it did the first time he called her that. The first time, it came off as a casual compliment, something he said as teenagers before they were even dating. Of course, it was far from a fleeting thought. He had just been playing it safe.

After several more beats, Zianna spoke up again. "Derek told me."

With as much of a joking scoff as he could muster, Garte responded, "Snitch."

As much as Zianna wanted to laugh, she couldn't. Seeing Garte so hurt, knowing the situation could have been so much worse, she couldn't find it in her to laugh. Considering he hadn't begun to tell her what had happened now that he was more coherent, she figured he wasn't going to ever do so freely.

"I don't want you working with him anymore, G," Zianna said after a soft kiss to his temple.

Garte only managed a hum in response. It wasn't meant to be dismissive; his head just hurt so badly and the medications he was on made him so drowsy.

"I'm serious, G," Zianna said. He always hummed when he wasn't truly listening. "He's bad news. We don't know what could have happened. And I need you here. Our boys need you here."

Garte, seeing the look in her eyes, felt his heart soften. He could see the beginning of tears forming. She wore her heart on her sleeve, a direct contrast to him, but he could see the earnest pleading in her eyes. He squeezes her hand in affirmation.

Then, in a moment of vulnerability, he opened his mouth to speak. He wanted to spill everything, including all that she couldn't remember. Garroth's leukemia, how sick he had been and they hadn't noticed for so long. How he had watched his baby die, and used Michael's potion to save him.

How Michael was holding their oldest son over his head to keep him silent. How the potions they were selling were killing people. How him and Derek were trying to open a portal, or do something to prevent the trio of Elizabeth, Zack, and Michael hurting anyone again.

But he shut his mouth.

He couldn't lose his son.

He could never tell her. He never would.