—Lewis B. Smedes

Julian tried with all of his might to keep his eyes open, but the cocktail of medications they had him on was making him exhausted. So, he eventually gave in and fell back asleep. When he did, I pulled Tommy out into the hospital hallway.

"You have to tell me exactly what happened." I stared into his tired, blue eyes. They were lined with worry.

"Let's just say, I'm glad you weren't here for the worst of it." Tommy ran a hand through his messy, blond hair. "The past three days have been an absolute nightmare."

"How did he get here?" I had a million questions, and started asking them in no particular order.

"Jules was at his flat with Devon," he explained. "Devon found him unresponsive in the middle of the night, with blue lips and fingernails, and rang me in a panic. I don't know why he didn't ring for help first, but I immediately phoned the ambulance. By the time they got to Julian's flat, Devon had left."

"Devon left him?" My chest was fluctuating with wild breaths. "He left Julian there to die?"

"I don't know, Brooke." Tommy's tone told me that he had contemplated the same abhorrent idea. "All I know is that the ambulance arrived just in time. Julian's heart rate had slowed to the point where he was only intermittently breathing. He flat lined a few times on the way here. If Julian had been alone when it happened..."

I covered my face with my hands and pushed back the tidal waves of emotion. I couldn't focus on the what ifs, if I wanted to keep any morsel of sanity.

"And what were they doing at Julian's apartment before this happened?" I already had a pretty good idea.

"What you can imagine... and probably worse," Tommy sighed the words. "The nurse said he's one of the worst overdose cases she's ever seen. Today has been the most mild yet, since his withdrawal started. They've got him loaded up on medicine to help with the process."

"Was it..." I choked on the question. "Was it intentional?"

"I don't know, Brooke." He rubbed my back. "He didn't say."

"Where is everybody else?" I couldn't stand to hear any more. Julian was alive, and he was being carefully monitored. More importantly, I would never let him out of my sight again, to ensure this never, ever had the opportunity to repeat itself.

"Jesse left for Finland to visit family." Tommy shifted his weight as he spoke. "Mason, I haven't a clue. And Devon is probably afraid to get caught, so he likely won't show up."

"Caught?" I asked. He probably thought me dense.

"Devon's the one who's been giving it to Julian," he whispered. I was sure the quietness of his voice was to soften the blow for me, not to protect Devon's name. "From what I know, he would actually inject Julian himself... Julian couldn't do it."

My palms started to sweat, and the hairs at the back of my neck stood on end.

"And his kidneys?" I shook my rage for Devon from my mind and tried to focus entirely on my Julian. "What did they say? What's the prognosis?"

"They didn't tell me very much, and Julian didn't tell me anything at all, but it's not good." Each word from his lips was strained. "They've got him on dialysis three or four times a week. If it means anything, the nurse said he will likely start to feel and look a lot better after his second treatment, which is tomorrow."

"Will they let me stay here?" In my mind, it didn't matter if they gave me permission. I would have refused to leave regardless.

"You had a long flight." Tommy tried to reason with me, while he stifled a yawn. "Why don't you come back to mine? I have plenty of spare bedrooms. Then you and I can come back here first thing in the morning."

"No, Tommy, I'm staying." Nobody would have been able to move me. "Why don't you go home to sleep? I'll be here, so he won't be alone now."

"I can't do that. It's not fair to you." Tommy rubbed his eyes and blinked them several times.

"I'm relieving you of your duties." I smiled at him.

"I don't know," Tommy said.

"Go home," I encouraged. "He's just going to sleep, anyway."

"You're sure?" Tommy's voice was a mixture of relief and guilt.

"I'm positive," I said. "Go get a good night's rest. I'm guessing it will be the best one you've had in a while."

When I snuck back into Julian's room, he was still passed out. There was a chair by the window, so I carefully and quietly carried it toward the bed, placing it directly beside him. In the chair, I curled up into a ball next to Julian and placed my hand over his. It was cold, and the bones of his knuckles protruded, but his rough skin was the same—beautifully calloused through years of playing guitar and working with his hands.

The urge to sleep never came for me, and I was glad. I simply sat there, knees at my chest in the chair, and watched Julian for any sign of distress. Solace came from the regularity of his heartbeats, as made audible by the monitor.

Twice in the night, Julian woke up to make sure that I was still there. As soon as he saw me smile at him, he would smile back, and close his tired eyes again. The crease between his thick brows was gone, and as I covered his thin body in more blankets, his skin warmed some.

When the light of day was just starting to shine through the hospital window, the sound of a rolling cart approaching caught my attention and startled Julian awake. Into the room came a nurse in aqua-green scrubs, pushing a tray with a breakfast platter on it. Her name tag read "Nina."

"Oh, good morning! I didn't know Mr. Miles had a new visitor." Her smile reached her eyes. "Are you family?"

"Yes," Julian answered before I could, in a groggy voice. Gently, I squeezed his hand, trying to transfer, through our fingers, all of the love I had in my body for him.

"Well, that's excellent, Julian. How are you feeling today?" Nina maneuvered the bedside tray into place, and set down a plate with thick-cut bacon, baked beans, buttered toast, grilled tomatoes, fried mushrooms, sausages, and eggs.

"Like shit," he said.

Nina surprised me by laughing.

"Well, the doctor said you can be moved from the casualty department to a proper hospital room. So that must count for something." She smiled affectionately at my rude boy and then turned to me. "Would you like some breakfast as well?"

I said "no, thank you" at the same time that Julian said "yes, please."

"I'm not too hungry," I reiterated. "Whatever he doesn't finish from his plate, I'll have."

"Okay." Nina smiled. "Just let me know if you need anything. All you have to do is press the red call button. I'll be back in a bit to collect the tray."

When we were alone again, I kissed Julian's forehead.

"Eat." I moved the plate closer to him.

"I'm not hungry," he said with a weak smile.

"Just have some." I brushed my thumb along his cheek. "Please."

He grabbed the fork with a trembling hand and dropped it back onto the plate. Embarrassment came over his face as he tried again, and dropped the fork again.

"Here," I whispered, taking it from him, and began feeding him some bites of egg. "Is it good?"

"No." He smiled, but continued chewing. "Doesn't taste like anything."

"Just eat a little. You need it." I stared into his glossy eyes and watched him chew slowly. I would help him get better, I promised myself. One tiny nibble at a time, if necessary.

...

In the very late afternoon, two nurses—one male and one female, whose names I didn't catch—came to bring Julian to dialysis. When he was done, they said, he'd be moved to a regular room at the other end of the long hall. Due to this, I stayed in the waiting area for several hours while they worked to clean his blood.

Through the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Nina, and threw down the magazine I was reading, in order to meet her.

"Hey, Nina, right?" I asked breathlessly.

"Yes. You're Julian's visitor." Her sandy blonde hair was pulled back into a bun, giving spotlight to her heart-shaped face and kind, green eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"Brooke," I said, officially introducing myself. "I was just hoping I could talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, come with me." Nina led us to an empty examination room and shut the door.

"I'm all ears," Nina said, while taking a seat on the rolling, doctor's chair.

"I was hoping you could tell me more about Julian's condition." I sat on the examination table carefully.

"Well," Nina sighed. "I don't have his chart in front of me, but if I am remembering correctly, Julian has experienced a near total loss of kidney function."

I bit my bottom lip, trying to keep my composure, and waited for her to continue.

"What that basically means is that one of his kidneys is non-functioning, and hasn't functioned correctly since birth, but until now, that wasn't a problem because most people can survive quite well with just one healthy kidney." She spoke carefully, treading lightly.

"The problem, however, is that his one good kidney is now functioning below fifteen-percent efficiency. It can't filter all of the waste from Julian's blood on its own."

"What made it stop working?" My waterline flooded but I blinked back the waves.

"When someone abuses heroin," she looked away from me as she said it, "it leads to high levels of protein in the urine. Sometimes, there are toxic, viral, or bacterial contaminants in the drug that can ultimately lead to kidney failure. And his were already weak."

"In Julian's case..." Nina continued. "There's also the strong possibility of rhabdomyolysis."

I stared at her, as if she were speaking in French.

"Essentially, when he was comatose after the non-fatal overdose, some of his muscle tissue broke down and released a damaging protein into his blood. The chemicals that are released during the breakdown are massively destructive to the kidneys."

"And now?" Terror gripped me by the neck. "What is his prognosis?"

"He's doing great overcoming the withdrawal. He's taken well to Clonidine." Nina used her hands as she spoke. "He'll continue to have symptoms from the withdrawal for some time, but that alone is not life threatening."

"Then what is?" I knew there was more.

"Heroin has done lots of damage that his body will have to work hard to rectify. Julian has a long road ahead of him. He'll need physical therapy..." Nina said somberly and trailed off. "I'm not sure if you're aware, but each shot of the drug shortens the user's life by about twenty-three hours. And users tend to shoot up three times a day or more."

I almost whimpered, but caught the noise in my throat before it could be emitted.

"Mr. Miles is lucky in one sense, that this happened when it did. A lot of people don't make it out of the addiction alive. It's one of the quietest, yet harshest and deadliest, substances in the world," Nina said.

"Where do we go from here then?" I was gulping back the bile. "What happens to him now?"

"What we're mostly concerned about now is that Julian will need to be on dialysis indefinitely, and in time, he may need a kidney transplant." My heart stopped completely. "We've already put him on the organ waiting list, because it can take quite a long time—up to three years—and by the time one is available, he may need it more imperatively."

The idea struck me. A solution to everything for my Julian.

"What if I want to donate one of my kidneys to him?" I grew excited at the possibility.

"It's not quite that simple, Brooke," Nina explained. "You would have to be a match. There are lots of tests involved, and even then, his body could still reject the organ."

"Well, how do I find out if we're a match?" I stood up from the table. "Test me. Test anything you want."

"He's not in a dire enough state right now. His one kidney is functioning, terribly, yes, but still filtering some of the toxins from his body. The dialysis is working very well for him, and he can survive for a long time, being on that procedure several times a week." Nina looked into my desperate eyes and sighed. "But... I might be able to arrange for some testing to be done for you."

"Okay, please do." I clasped my hands together, literally begging. "Please arrange for it. If that's the first step, needing to see if I'm a match, then I'm all for it. Whatever I need to do, I'll do it. Anything at all."

"Is Mr. Miles aware of your wishes?" she asked through a knowing grin.

"No, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything to him." He would hate that I even had this conversation with Nina. I could have practically heard him arguing against it right then, and the thought of him feeling well enough to argue made me smile to myself. "I would like this to stay between me and you. For now."

"This is confidential," she assured me and tapped her finger on the table. "Brooke, forgive me, but I noticed your accent, and I saw that you only brought a purse with you into Julian's room. Are you in need of any toiletries? Possibly a change of clothes?"

"I don't have anything with me, really," I admitted. My black slacks and blue top weren't going to last me much longer.

"Wait here for just a moment." Nina left the room, then returned a couple minutes later with a pile of things for me. Folded neatly were two pairs of jeans and three plain t-shirts. On top of those items, I found a toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste, a comb, and deodorant.

"The toiletries are just basic hospital amenities," she explained. "But the clothes are mine—clean, from my locker. I figured we were about the same size."

"Are you sure?" I felt terrible taking her spare clothing, but I really did need something fresh to wear.

"Keep them," she said kindly. "They are just plain, old, emergency changes of clothes, anyway. You know, in case of a spaghetti sauce stain. We call that code red as well."

I laughed for the first time in days, and thanked her profusely before she returned to the duties of her shift.

Nina had told me where Julian would be moved to, so I was able to find his new room on my own. He wasn't back yet, but I sat on the chair and watched British television while I waited for his dialysis to be completed. Outside the window, rain was coming down in a light sprinkle.

Half an hour later, they wheeled Julian into the spacious, private hospital room and he lay back on the inclined bed. Although he was still very weak, I could see a brightness in his face that wasn't there before.

"How are you?" he asked gruffly.

"How are you?" I countered. It was insane for him to worry about me while he was in that condition.

"I feel better today." Julian's russet eyes were clearer, hardly any yellow to them, and his skin looked more supple.

"You look much better." I held his hand. "But we still have a long way to go."

"How long will you stay?" Julian's voice lowered as he asked.

"Indefinitely." I smirked at him.

"Don't you have to get back to work?" He swallowed hard. "To Eric?"

"I quit my job before I flew here," I said with a grin. "And Eric is nothing to me, never was. It's only you. It's always been you."

Julian's eyes lit up in discernible happiness.

"In fact," I continued, "you might be happy to know that I slapped the taste out of his mouth before I quit."

Julian laughed heartily, and the sound warmed me from within.

"You?" He made sure that he had heard me correctly.

"Me." I touched his cheek and smiled.

"My merciless American," he spoke softer, as his laughter began to trail off.

We stared at each other for a long moment, and it seemed as though every noise around us had muted itself. I could hear nothing but his deep, heavy breaths.

"I love you, Brooke." Julian's eyes were wet as he spoke my favorite words, in my favorite voice in the entire world, tainted only by the slightest bit of unnatural rasp.

"I love you, Julian." I sat on the edge of the bed, getting as close to him as I could.

"I'm so sorry—" Julian started to speak but I put my index finger to his lips, to halt him.

"Not now." I kissed his forehead. "We're good. We're perfect, in fact. You love me, I love you, and neither of us are going anywhere. Everything else, we can wait to talk about."

"What have I done to deserve you, Brooke?" His voice broke in the middle.

"I could ask the same thing," I whispered.

I leaned down to kiss his chapped lips. Although his body was weak, his mouth naturally moved in time with mine, reminding me of everything we had before—everything we still had—and everything to come.

"Don't doubt me, Jules." I didn't realize I was crying until I tasted the salt. "I need you to trust me."

I thought of what he said the last time we spoke, and crumbled inside.

"I do trust you." He ran his rough, thin fingers through my tangled hair. "More than anyone or anything. I'm sorry I was so clouded, Brooke. It was me. All me. I just wasn't myself. I'm never myself without you."

Julian's nose was incessantly running, so I grabbed the box of tissues at his bedside and wiped his face.

"Are you hot?" I noticed the corners of his face collecting sweat.

"I'm cold, actually," he admitted. Just then, I noticed the goosebumps on his arms.

"Hold on." I got up to leave the room but he held onto my hand tightly, with frightened eyes.

"I'll be right back," I promised. "It's okay."

When Julian finally let go of his grasp, I went into the hall to find a clean rag and a heated blanket from the staff. Julian let me cover his cold body when I returned moments later, and with the warm rag, I cleaned the sweat from his face.

"When was the last time you brushed this mess?" I fluffed his unkempt hair. "If you let it grow any more, it'll be longer than mine."

Julian laughed, and I found the comb that Nina gave to me. As I gently brushed his matted strands, Julian griped and whined playfully.

"Blimey, you really are merciless," he joked, as I carefully took each part, inch by inch. "You're doing it too rough."

"Am I?" I kissed the top of his head.

No matter how terrible the circumstances, it felt so good to be reunited with my Julian. We fell back into ourselves so effortlessly, like nothing had happened and no time had passed at all. We picked up exactly where we had left off, and the hope I gathered from this made my heart sing.

"No, love. I don't feel a thing." He leaned back some, and his eyes watered. "Well, except for the aches all over my body."

"Where, Jules?" All I wanted to do was take his pain away... any little bit that I could.

"Everywhere," he groaned. "Especially my legs and my back."

I shifted the warm blanket off one of his legs, and under the light blue hospital gown, I could see his skin there for the first time. I ignored the injection sites and started massaging his thighs and calves. As I applied some light pressure, I could feel the tension leaving him slowly.

Julian moaned in relief as I softly kneaded his sore, tired muscles.

"How's this?" I asked, terrified of hurting him at all. He looked so breakable. "Am I doing it too rough?"

"No. It feels so nice," Julian said with his eyes closed.