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[Disclaimer: Parts of this fan fiction contain SLASH (male/male) sexual subject matter. The characters Derek Rayne and Nick Boyle do not belong to me. I’ve kidnaped them temporarily from MGM. Just a little harm is done, nothing that can’t be cured with a little TLC and some typically mystical powers. No profit is being made, no harm intended. There are brief accounts of violence.
When he woke, he was alone. Mark was not in the cottage. Derek found that he had been stripped of his clothing, every stitch. He had evidently been comatose for several hours. It was now broad daylight. He had a fleeting moment of worry, then he heard boot-steps on the rickety porch. He heard Mark's country twang as he sang. He sighed in relief.
"Hey!" Mark stepped in the door with a small wooden bowl in hand. "Back from the *dead*, no less! How are you feeling this morning, Derek?" He knelt beside the blanket, set the bowl on the floor.
Derek smiled at him. "Still half dead, judging from the way I feel. What's in the bowl?"
"Breakfast." Mark took a strip of pink meat from the bowl and tore off a small piece. "Try a bite."
Derek took it, chewed it with a sour expression. It was warm and uncooked. "What is it?" he asked.
Mark was chewing, his mouth so full that his voice was muffled. "Not sure."
Derek swallowed hard. "Yum." he commented.
"It was way up in a tree when I shot it. It hit the ground pretty hard. Splatted beyond recognition. Here. Take another bite." Mark was pushing more meat into his mouth, and Derek reluctantly took it. "I know it's not exactly sirloin, but it's food, and you need to gain back some strength. You lost a shitload of blood last night, and even though God and I patched you back up, you can't be at full strength with no blood in you. You should see yourself. You're white as a ghost. I kept the fire roaring and you still shivered all night. You need nourishment to build up your energy. You lived, but you're not well. Not at all."
Derek chewed gratefully. "What time is it?"
"Ten o'clock. I didn't think you were ever gonna wake up." Mark forced more meat on him, and continued to feed him until he had eaten nearly a third of the bowl's contents. "We can't leave until you're able, and that's going to be a while. I don't have my cell phone with me or I'd call for an emergency helicopter."
Derek struggled to sit up, his unclothed body rippled with chill bumps. He reached, unsteadily, for his carry bag. "I have a cell phone. Call Nick. He will come."
Mark opened the carry bag, took out the cellular phone and handed it to him. "Does Nick have a helicopter?" he asked doubtfully.
"Yes, he does." Derek's weak fingers fumbled and dropped the phone.
Picking it up, Mark turned on the power. "What's his number?"
"555-7859. He's on Angel Island, back at our Legacy House. It's off the coast of San Francisco."
Dialing the number, Mark laid him down and covered him with the blanket again. "That's a long way, even in a helicopter. It could take him a while."
"Tell him not to say anything to Alex or Rachel. I don't want them to worry."
A female voice answered the call. "Hi, this is Alexandra Moreau."
"Hi, Alexandra." Mark spoke casually. "Is Nick around? I need to talk to him."
"Yes, he's right here." Without question, the phone was handed over. The young man's voice was unsuspecting.
"Yeah, this is Nick Boyle."
"Hi, Nick. My name is Mark Ryder. I'm calling you from Derek's cell phone."
Nick leaned into the phone. "Is Derek all right?"
"He's here with me, and...well..he's hurt. He doesn't want you to alarm the lady there with you. He was attacked by a mountain lion."
"What? Tell me what the hell happened! Where is he?"
"We're on a mountain in Eastern Kentucky. I'll give you directions if you want to come pick us up and give him a ride to the hospital. He could use some blood."
"Damn! Damn! What the hell is he doing in Kentucky! *Kentucky*, of all places for him to go off alone!" Nick was pacing. "Okay, give me the co-ordinates. I'll be there as fast as possible."
_________________________________________
"Do you think I could convince a wrecker to come up here and get my car today?" Derek was idly punching random buttons on the cell phone.
"I doubt it. They'll probably refer you to the Tractor Rescue Service, and they will take a couple of weeks getting to it." Mark took the phone from him and set it out of his reach.
"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?"
"A good plan would be for us to get you to a hospital so you can get treated."
"You healed me, Mark. Faith is the key to healing. You're not exercising much faith."
"You lived, Derek. There are still things really wrong with you. You're not well. Your Nick is on his way. Hopefully, he’ll be here soon."
"He's my white knight." Derek said.
"He loves you a lot. That's obvious."
"Yeah. He does."
"How do you feel about him?"
"He's my friend, my very closest friend."
"You belong to him?"
"No, our relationship isn't like that."
Mark settled down beside him, his long legs stretched out toward the fire, his arm draped over Derek's shoulders. He offered him the canteen. "You thirsty?"
Derek raised his head and took a drink. Water trickled along his jaw and moisture clung to his lips. He closed his eyes as Mark's thumb delicately brushed it away. "I have to see that someone takes care of my car."
"Nick will take care of your damned car. Just don't worry about it, okay?" Mark scolded softly. "You are much more important." His thumb remained on Derek's lips, slowly traced them back and forth.
Derek was made slightly uncomfortable by his touch. "Penelope won't come back?"
"Not until I'm ready to talk to her."
"She was your lover?"
"Yeah, until I discovered men."
"She's angry that you abandoned her."
"I knew she would be, but I didn't think she'd attack you with me right here."
"What is she, Mark?"
"She's a mountain lion."
"What did she used to be?"
"You *are* very perceptive, Derek. She used to be a beautiful woman, but her 'gift' changed her. When she was no longer human, I couldn't tolerate her any more. I had to get away and find another life."
"I won't ask for details yet."
"It's a long, long story. I don't think you're up to listening to it." Mark ran his hand over Derek's face. "Are you cold?"
"Very."
Mark removed his boots and slid into the covers with him, held him very close. "Let's get you warmed up." he said into his ear. Derek turned to him, putting his head on his shoulder, his arm over him. "This is nice." Mark said, as his lips lightly touched the other's forehead. "Very nice."
"Nick will be here soon."
"Yes, he will..." /And I will never get another minute alone with you, my Beautiful, Newfound Obsession./ "It won't be very long." Derek closed his eyes. "Tell me about Nick." Mark prompted, to keep him awake.
"He's young -- not yet in his thirties --still full of piss and vinegar. He was once a Navy SEAL, but now he works with us at the Legacy. He cares very deeply about everything and everyone."
"Is he as psychic as you are?"
"No, but he has other attributes that are just as handy."
"I'll just bet he does."
Derek glanced up at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're in love with him." It was an accusation.
"No, I'm not! I'm like a father figure to him."
“I see.” Mark did not sound convinced.
Derek went to no trouble to explain. It wasn’t important and he was weary of conversation. Mark’s nearness seemed to ease the pain, to erase the severity of his troubles. He felt his warm breath on his hair, raised his face to give him a grateful glance and, before he realized what was happening, found himself being kissed full on the mouth.
He was too weak to struggle. Derek accepted the kiss quietly, but when Mark raised up to look down at him, he said softly, “Before you kiss someone, you should ask permission.”
“All right. May I kiss you again?”
Derek gazed at him with empty eyes. “I don’t feel well, Mark.”
“I understand that, Sweetheart. Trust me. I won’t hurt you.” Mark kissed him again, softly. “You’re beautiful.” he whispered. “Like a dream come true.”
Derek’s eyes were closed, his full lips sensuously parted. Even without his consent, his body was responding, his emotions were deeply affected. His fingers combed through Mark’s shaggy hair as he returned the kiss with as much enthusiasm as he was capable.
Mark’s third kiss was passionate, and when it ended, Derek drew in a deep, trembling breath. “Have mercy on me.” he begged.
“I’m only kissing you, Derek.” Mark said soothingly in his ear. “I don’t expect anything else from you.”
Derek slid gentle fingertips down his cheek. “I’ve never been kissed like that by a man before.”
Mark grinned, a charming, sidling grin. “So, how was it?”
“You’re a very good kisser.” Derek assured him.
“So are you.” Mark leaned in for another quick kiss, then sighed. “Where have you been all my life?”
“That line is too old.” Derek chuckled faintly.
“I wish I could have met you ten years ago.”
“Everything happens in the proper time.” Derek said wisely. “In the proper context.”
“Yeah, but sometimes, it would be nice if we could just go back and fix some things that got messed up along the way, wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t you like to have a time machine?”
“If it were possible, the world would completely change. People who are dead would still be living. People who have suffered abuse would no longer have bad memories. Accidents could be prevented. It would be *too* perfect.” Derek was thinking of Nick, of his very imperfect past, of the abuse he had suffered at the hands of his father.
“If you could go back, who would you save?”
Derek met his eyes and knew he had read the thought. “Nick.” he answered.
“Does Nick need saving?”
“He saved himself.”
“Who needs saving, then?”
Derek touched his face. “You do.”
Mark kissed him again.
Derek had lapsed into a coma. Apprehensively, Mark watched him and waited. His pallor was extremely ashen, his lips were blanched, the pulse practically nonexistent. Outside, the helicopter finally arrived. Mark opened the door to a good looking young man wearing a leather jacket.
“Hi.” Nick greeted with worried eyes.
“Hi, Nick. I'm Mark. Come on in.”
Nick stepped in the door. “He’s comatose.” They wasted no time. Lifting Derek’s limber body, they carried him to the waiting helicopter.
________________________________________
Nick parked the helicopter in the emergency room parking lot and the two men rushed the patient inside. Attentive nurses led them quickly to an examining room. Nick gave information to the woman who asked for it, told her that Derek was his father, a useful pretense so he would be allowed to stay with him during his examination. It was grudgingly approved, only because the patient was unconscious and because Nick claimed kinship.
Mark, however, would have to wait in the waiting room, so, after patting Nick consolingly on the shoulder, he left them. He found a television in the waiting room, changed the channel to find something besides soap operas, discovered motocross racing on ESPN and sat down to watch it.
Nick waited with bated breath as the lab-person came in with her box of vials and attempted to extract blood from Derek's arm. When she left, Nick peeled back the tape and gauze from the small puncture wound and studied it. There was no bleeding although the skin had ripped from the needle’s entrance.
It seemed endless. Finally, after what seemed like hours, a doctor old enough to retire came in and smiled for Nick. “So...your father's been unconscious for how long?”
“A couple of hours, maybe.” Nick answered. “What’s wrong with him, Doc?”
“He has no blood. I need to know what happened to it. He has no wounds that show, no cuts, no slices, no scratches, not even any vampire bites. Where did he bleed?”
“I don’t know.” Nick’s voice shook. The truth was too unbelievable.
“He has anemia and what blood he has is severely deficit. I've never seen hypoglycemia on a minus scale before, or blood pressure so low. The nurse will be in here in a minute to start a transfusion. If we don’t get some blood in him, he’s going to die.”
“No, he can’t die.” Nick said defensively.
“Yes, he can, son, but we’re not going to let him. We’re going to pull him through. I don’t know what happened to him, so I’m scheduling him for a battery of tests. We’ll have to find out what is *wrong* with him before we can cure him.”
“How long will he have to stay?”
“I can't say for sure. We have to make him wake up, that's the first order of business here. I need to find out why he doesn’t have any blood in his body. If you can’t tell me, maybe he can.”
“He was attacked by a mountain lion.” Nick blurted out.
The doctor stared at him. “But he has no wounds.”
With a defeated sigh, Nick said, “Well, then, maybe he starved himself.”
“Does he do that on a regular basis--starve himself?”
“Sometimes. He’s a doctor. You know how it is. He doesn’t always eat right.”
“Well, he can't do that any more. This is a serious matter, boy. Do me a favor and try to keep the fantasy stories out of this, all right? No more mountain lion attacks.”
Nick nodded nervously. The pretty nurse with the IV came in and hooked it up, along with a score of monitors that beeped incessantly. Rich, red blood began to flow into Derek’s empty veins. The doctor stepped out the door and did not come back.
“Where's he going?” Nick asked.
“Taking care of other patients. This one is going upstairs as soon as they have the room ready.” Nick watched the monitors, saw the respirations were below level. “He's breathing. Why does that say it's not good?”
“His breathing is very shallow. Hopefully, it will pick up.”
“What about the heart rate?”
“It's weak, too. Let's hope this IV gives him some strength.”
Nick's fingers gently combed through Derek's hair. “He’s gonna be okay...isn’t he?”
“Let's not get pessimistic.” she said, understandingly. “He's gonna be just fine.” He bit his lip, hoping she was right.
“He's your father?” she asked, getting a good look at the patient's face. Biting back a confession, he nodded. “He’s very handsome.” she said.
Nick smiled. “Yeah, he is.”
She took his hand, gave him a hug. It was not unusual. Nick had that talent, the face, the aimless emotional quality to provoke hugs and kisses from strange women. “He's gonna be fine, Babe.” she assured him.
Even in his distress, he did not miss reading her name tag before she left the room. Her name was Kelly. The other thing he did not miss was that there was no ring on her finger. When she was gone, he turned to his sleeping friend and whispered, “I don’t know why I just can’t resist thinking like that around beautiful women, but you know what, Derek? I’m not the least bit interested in her. Right now, the only one in the world I care about...is you.”
______________________________________________
Mark was immediately on his feet when Nick entered the waiting room. “What's goin' on?” he asked pensively.
“They're keeping him, of course.” Nick answered. “Come on.”
Mark followed him to the elevator. “What did they say?”
“They gave him a transfusion. His blood pressure and sugar were minus something, I think.”
“What I thought.”
“They took blood for the lab. They got the last drop.”
“So, how many pints did they give him?”
“Two, I think. He could have any number of things wrong with him as a result of what happened to him, including infections of all different kinds.” Nick’s multi-colored eyes were stressed. “I'm going to have to keep a sharp eye on him. Not just for a couple of weeks. Forever. He’s not going to escape like that again. That was stupid, taking off to Kentucky without telling me...”
“Give him a chance. He was only following Destiny. He'll be fine, Nick. He’ll get well and he’ll live a normal life again.”
“His life has never been...nor will it ever be normal.” Nick’s voice took on a dark, ominous tone.
“He may have to alter his bad habits just a little bit.”
“He won't do that voluntarily.”
“Maybe he would stay where he’s supposed to be if you gave him a swift kick in the ass.” Mark quipped.
Nick chuckled. “His room is 212, right down there.”
_______________________________________
Derek's eyelids fluttered, his facial muscles twitched several times. His blood sugar had done a fast rise to over three hundred during the five hour watch. The glucose IV drip had been decreased as soon as it had returned to normal, but the sugar count continued to rise. Three hundred was too high.
Nick was beside him as soon as he detected the first movement. “Derek, can you hear me? Derek?”
Derek sluggishly raised his hand, caught his breath, coughed and tried to clear his throat. “Don't scream, Nick, I'm right here.” His voice was thin.
Nick leaned over him, whispering, “Derek, you're awake! Do you know how worried I've been about you?”
Derek was examining his own arm, the lengths of tubing that were connected, the other lines that came from his body and led to the monitors. “What's all this? Where am I, Nick? What's going on?”
“Take it easy. Just stay calm.” Nick said.
“I will not. You've signed me into a hospital, haven't you?”
“Of course you’re in a hospital. You’re sick. You were in a coma and we couldn't bring you out of it. Your blood sugar is real messed up, Derek. Mark thinks maybe the lion got your pancreas as well as your spleen. Other stuff, too. You have no insides left.”
“What?”
Mark stepped forward on the other side of him and took hold of his arm. “Relax, Derek. Keep your arm still or you’ll pull the IV out.”
Nick tediously repaired the minor mess he'd made of the monitor-wires. “You're here for a while, I don't know how long, so just enjoy it, okay?” Derek’s complexion turned gray.
“Derek?”
“I don't feel well, Nick.”
“What's wrong?”
“I feel sick.”
“You gonna throw up?”
“I think so.”
Mark found the small, curved vessel in the drawer beside the bed, put it beneath his jaw as he and Nick worked together to turn him on his side. They were careful not to disturb the IV or monitor wires.
Derek expelled black liquid, vomited until he had the dry heaves, and when Nick saw nothing else was coming up, he got a wet rag and turned him on his back again to wash his face. Nick's eyes worriedly met Mark's. “That's blood.” he said.
Mark nodded, setting the pan on the stand.
“Why would he throw up blood?” Nick asked.
“He was torn from his lips to his butt hole.” Mark said. “He was laid open for field-dressing. Don’t you think his system could be just a little bit impaired?”
Nick reached for the water cup, giving Derek a sip. “He could still be tore up inside, all his internal organs ripped to shreds. How did you save him? How did he heal?”
“I touched him. I prayed. I have a gift.” Mark answered simply. “I touched him and he healed. But, as you already know, telling the doctor about this could raise a lot of questions we can't answer. Scientific people would never believe what really happened.” Derek fought for breath as Nick gave him water. “Nick, you're gonna finish him off. Look at him, he's choking and you're pouring water down his throat.” Mark said.
“Sorry.” Nick set the water aside, positioned Derek more comfortably in bed. He was breathing with difficulty. “He's weak as a kitten.”
A nurse entered the room, found the pan of black vomit and handed it to another nurse close behind her. She moved in at once, checked him closely and demanded to know what had happened. They explained, and she made notes of what they told her.
“The doctor will be here in a few minutes to see what's going on here.” she said.
Derek’s eyes clouded over. His moan faded gradually.
She took more blood from him and tested it on a handheld device. “It's over six hundred!” she said, and ran out the door.
________________________________________
A new doctor came into the room and injected something into the IV tube. “I want tests tomorrow, Dr. Rayne, starting with a glucose tolerance test. So nothing to eat for the rest of the day.”
“No problem.” Derek said, wheezing.
Nick had never seen him look so pitiful.
.................to be continued...............
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