Cooper’s eyes shot open, his body floating inside a regen tank, but his mind unable to process what was happening. His shoulder screamed in pain while his neck hurt when he jerked his head to the side, finding himself face-to-face with the blurred image of Sam through the glass tube and the thick fluid. Battling the sludge, he balled up his fists, pounding them against the glass as hard as he could, them needing to cut through the sludge and before making contact. His hands moved up to the mask covering his nose and mouth, tugging at them and looking for a way out.

Sam’s ethereal expression was one of concern, her turning away and motioning towards the tube. After what felt like an eternity of him writhing inside the tube, a fair-skinned man in a powder blue set of scrubs came into view, tapping at something only for the fluid to receded into the grating in the ground, Coop feeling the tug of gravity pull him down along with it, collapsing into a heap. The tank hissed, and the seal cracked open, parting in two while Cooper tugged at the mask, yanking it off and struggling to breathe. Everything was still blurred, heavy and foggy, it sounding like he’s underwater.

“Coop, it’s okay,” Sam said, approaching him with her hands out.

“It’s going to take a few moments before you’re able to—“ the medic began.

“F-fuck off!” Cooper shouted, standing up with his hands pressed against the glass, slipping against the side and face-planting on the ground. His body, still slick with the fluid, slipped along the tile, Sam throwing a towel over him and embracing him.

“Hey, calm down there, tough guy,” she whispered. “You’re okay. I promise you.”

“W-what happened?” he asked. “Did I get him?”

“Not exactly,” she said.

“You should avoid anything like this until he’s fully recovered, he’s gonna feel sick for at least—“

“Shut up!” Cooper shouted. “Fuck outta here.”

The medic shrank back, slinking out of the room. Surely a breach of protocol that Cooper wasn’t worried about in his foggy mental state. Sharp visions pierced his subconscious of the fight with Kriger, snippets of violence and searing pain. The last image he remembered was staring down at a bloody, seething Kriger, Guy planted in his skull and blood trickling down his face, with that massive hand around his neck. Slumping back onto the cold floor, Cooper tugged the towel tight around his shoulders and curled up into a ball. He’d lost, and this was the end result.

“Was I...?” he let the question hang in the air.

“Dead? No. You were still alive—barely—but the medics were able to get you into suspension quickly enough and into the tank,” she said. “That isn’t to say that I wasn’t worried... things weren’t looking great, Coop.”

“My fucking neck burns.” He clutched at it.

“Um, yeah, broken in four places. If they hadn’t rushed to your side and stabilized you, that would’ve been the end of you. You were struggling to breathe and if you tried to move your head, you could... I don’t want to talk about it.” Tears welled up in her eyes, Coop understanding how close he came to a certain death.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he muttered. It taking a near-death encounter to hammer it into his thick skull that there were people that cared about him was typical for Coop. “I didn’t know how bad it was.”

“I should’ve been there, Cooper,” she muttered. “I should’ve been there with you. Instead I had to rush out, and that cheapskate uncle of yours wouldn’t help me book my flight, then he said I couldn’t see you when I arrived and—“

“Where is Regis?” The few times he’d been beaten up before, or at least taken enough damage to go into the tank, his uncle wasn’t far from view, ready to discuss strategy.

“I don’t know. Frankly, I don’t fucking care, either.” Her tone made it clear what she thought of him. “Said he had some important meetings a few days ago and I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

“Fucking hell.” Coop straightened himself out, knees still weak after being in the tank for a while. “Wait, how long was I in there?”

“Two months,” she said.

“For fuck’s sake.” The weight of the statement almost dragged him back down to the floor again. “This was some serious shit, then.”

“It was touch-and-go for a while there. The doctors weren’t sure if you’d get patched up like new again. They want to talk to you about your future, I’m guessing. There’s been a lot of talk about that.”

“What future? I’m gonna get back out there and wallop Kriger. Where’s fucking Guy? Tell me uncle at least took care of Guy.”

“Erm, no. Kriger smashed your bat after the win. You know how he is.”

“Ffffuuck.” Cooper leaned against the glass case, the world spinning, Sam tucking herself under his arm and guiding him to a chair in the corner. “Can’t even have my fucking bat? What’s this galaxy coming to?”

“I know, Cooper. I know. You need to calm down.”

A pain in his chest flourished, blossoming out and tightening, making it difficult to breathe. Two months in the tank. Kriger smashed his bat, and Regis was nowhere to be found. Hell, even the docs wanted to talk about his ‘future,’ whatever that meant. For someone that was a hair’s breath away from defeating the toughest bastard in the galaxy, this wasn’t what Cooper expected. No parades or news features about his bravery or the next fight, no uncle there to pat him on the back and tell him the next fights they had lined up. Just Sam standing there, arms crossed, looking down at him like he’s a child who hit his head and won’t believe he’s fine.

“So... what’s next?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“How about we get you out of here and go home?” Her tone was soft and saccharine. Cooper would have usually considered it pandering, but he welcomed it, smiling up at her.

“That’s a start.”