Not medically correct!!!!

Trigger warnings: V brief mentions of suicide/depression

In the hospital, Emerson waits while his brother is taken through for various scans and so on, putting the magazine down and standing when Doctor Sanchez returns with Remington and a clipboard.

"Nothing to be alarmed of," she says calmly. "His brain isn't showing any further damage, which I was worried about. The scans are showing the same thing as they have been since his accident, which is that there's a small piece of his brain that's not functioning as it should be. This happens to be the part that correlates his memory, as you know. We're very lucky it's effecting memory rather than effecting his ability to walk or talk or anything substantial like that."

"So it's gonna be like this forever?" Asks Remington, alarmed at the thought.

Doctor Sanchez nods. "You're always going to have trouble with your memory, yes. However, there are ways to lessen the issues. The best thing to do is to stimulate your brain as much as you can. Going for walks with someone and discussing what you can see and hear is a great way to do this, as well as talking about what you've done recently, how you feel, things that have happened in the past that you may remember parts of. Anything to get you thinking about who you are, who you're with, and the environment around you."

"Will I ever remember, like, little, uh...oh for fuck's sake. This fucking pisses me off."

"It's okay, take your time. Try and work out what you wanna say, that's a great way to stimulate your brain."

"Okay." He frowns. "Will I ever be able to, like, remember the, uh, the...the details of things in the past? You know, like specific things someone said to me or...or certain days out or the...fuck...the...the words to songs by bands I like?"

"That depends on what you do to exercise your memory. It's unlikely that those things will come back automatically, but if you talk about them a lot, specially with those who you made the memories with, that will definitely help. For example, if there's a particularly good holiday you took with your brothers that you want to be able to recall, discussing it with them will give you the best chance of jogging the memory as it was them that you created it with. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah."

"And, again, try your best to work out the words you forget without getting too much help. So, Emerson, if you could bare that in mind while you're with him and make sure not to try and correct or anticipate what he's struggling to say, okay?"

"Of course."

"I'd like to see you in two weeks for another scan just to make sure nothing it going wrong in your brain. I'll schedule an appointment and send it through email for you, okay. If you have any concerns before then, please do come in and have a chat and know I'm doing everything I can to understand more about this so I can give you the help and treatment that you need."

"Okay, thank you," Remington says. Then he turns to his brother. "Can we go see...Andy, now? Andy? He has the blue eyes?"

"No, we can't visit Andy until next week."

"Oh."

"You like seeing him, yeah?"

Remington nods.

"You tell him that next week, he'll be happy to hear it."

"Okay." He sighs. "But why can't I see him today?"

"He needs a routine in the hospital to help him feel better, remember? It's important he can feel better so then he can come home and you can see him every day whenever you like."

"Okay."

"I'll see you in two weeks, Remington, take care," Doctor Sanchez says with a smile.

On the short journey home, Emerson notices his brother is rather solemn and quiet. He glances at him as he drives, eventually saying, "you miss him, don't you?"

The singer lifts his gaze from the dashboard and shrugs.

"It's okay to miss him, Remington. It's good. You're married, of course you miss him when he's not around all the time."

"But I didn't feel like...like he was that...important to me until he left."

"That's okay, too. Him being away has made you realise how much he means to you."

Remington sighs. "What if he doesn't forgive me for making him wanna die?"

"If there's one thing you should know about Andy, love, it's that he will always forgive you. Because he loves you and he knows he needs you and that you are a good person. You haven't been well since your accident and Andy won't ever hold that against you. I promise."

"Okay." He looks out the window. "I don't wanna be this way anymore."

Emerson glances at him, saddened. "I know, and I'm sorry this is happening. It's really difficult for you, I know it is. You're doing well, though. You know Andy is very proud of you."

"Really?"

"Of course. And he'll be missing you, too."

"Okay."

The drummer pulls into the driveway. "We're all proud of you," he says, opening the door. "Come on, let's have some lunch."

Remington follows him to the front door of the house, stepping in once it's been unlocked and going through to the living room. He looks at the plasters on his arms where he's had various needles injecting various fluids into him, though doesn't quite remember what any of it was for. Then Emerson tells him there's food in the kitchen and Remington gets himself something to eat from the fridge.

He spends most of the day thinking about his husband.