A/N: you deserve this. Thanks for sticking by me through the rough ride of Gabe's life. Here's some light forming.

This is dedicated to Kay and KD, without whom this really wouldn't have happened (and I thought they'd appreciate the shout out on the non-abusive part of the story rather than earlier)

Pain. Snaking from his hips, up, around his ribs. Radiating from his head. Down his neck. A breath that felt like fire. Rough, scratching. Wheezing.

"Gabe? Stay calm. You're safe."

The voice was smooth. Melted chocolate smooth. A voice that sounded like it should be singing in an underground bar with a jazz band at its back.

Safe though. What did that mean? Should he feel not safe? Pain. But pain didn't mean unsafe. He didn't know why that thought was ricocheting around his agonizing head, but it was strong, even as he forced his eyes to open. Well, one eye, actually, because the other lid seemed unwilling to part, only adding to the feelings of swollen discomfort that embraced every part of him.

"Nurse, can he have more painkillers?"

"Of course, Doctor." A new voice. Young sounding but husky, with something amused running through it. Sexy. Okay, he found men's voices sexy. Why was that a thought?

Was it normal? To actively have to think something like that? He knew he was in a hospital, that was easy. But, and it swiped at his mind, hard, who was 'he'? Why was he here? The panic hit like a brick, his body tensing, yet more agony as he tried to call out, fearful. But something warm pushed it back, washing over him, cooling the overheating in his brain, letting him sink down. Safe.

* * * * *

"Hey Gabe. Is that okay? Can I call you that?"

Gabriel's lids fluttered, slowly cracking open. He was Gabriel. There was a sense of relief at being aware of that. He felt something pressing against his cracked lips and parted for it, feeling the blessed relief of an ice-cold chip melting onto his tongue. It was gone in a moment and he opened his mouth, begging wordlessly for more, which landed, soothing the harsh rasp of his throat.

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing formed. No words came to him. The bright light spearing through his slitted eyelids was taking everything from his mind. It was too much, making his eyes water. He still couldn't see the man who'd fed him ice – the same one from earlier, his mind supplied, the young one. Earlier though? Gabriel wondered when, because whatever had kept his left eye shut last time didn't seem as bad now, even if the light felt worse in that one.

"It's okay. Calm down." He recognized that voice, too. Smooth.

Gabriel hadn't even realized the panic he was feeling in his mind was manifesting, but he felt a large, warm hand rest on top of his own, applying gentle pressure, which worked to ground him a little, even though his mind was spinning.

"Does he need more painkillers?"

He closed his eyes again. The light too much.

* * * * *

This time, there was no bright light. Gabriel's heart pounded for a moment, thinking his vision had gone as his eyelids parted slowly, but as they widened he was able to distinguish shapes with fuzzy edges, and he realized it was just night, and the light in the room was off – the only light coming through the slightly open doorway.

It was quiet, so quiet – not helping the soft edges of his mind already feeling as though they were underwater. But after long moments, where he finally got his eyes to open fully, he could hear the distant sounds of voices, and a beeping that faded into his consciousness, until he realized it was close, and coming from a machine to his side, that he could just see, even though turning his head was too much to consider just yet, as sharp tendrils of pain shot along his spine.

"Hello, Gabriel. It's good to see you awake." A woman slipped into the dim room without opening the door further, dressed in lilac scrubs and with a friendly smile.

He tried to respond, but just like earlier (earlier? A different day? He didn't know) the words wouldn't come, even the thought of them making his throat burn.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, just you relax there while I check a few things."

She bustled around while he watched, taking some readings off the machine, clipping something to his finger, carefully putting a blood pressure cuff on him. That hurt, but all he could do was make a pained huff, and she soothed him with an apologetic murmur and kept inflating it.

The huff turned into an agonized whine when she pressed down on his feet and pushed against his hands – each movement sending shots through him – but, again, she soothed and kept going.

"Sorry about this," she said, shining a light with the intensity of a nuclear explosion right into his eyes.

When she'd finished, he finally let go of the tension he hadn't realized he'd been holding, sinking back into the pillows.

"I'll be back in two hours," she bustled, having got progressively louder the longer she was in the room, as if deciding he'd had long enough to wallow. Gabriel didn't know how he felt about such a level of enthusiastic efficiency, and closed his eyes, letting sleep take him again.

* * * * *

By the time the morning light had risen fully, brightening the white-walled room, Gabriel was exhausted and more than a little grumpy. He leaned into it, not wanting to think too hard about how, every time he wanted to tell the overly cheerful night nurse to just leave him alone, nothing came to him. The words were in his brain, ready, lined up to be said, but nothing came out. He couldn't think about it too much.

"I'm going off shift now," she said when she joyfully invaded again. "One last check from me, and then I'll be handing you over to Owen."

He wanted to say 'thank god' or something equally as rude, regardless of how unfair he knew it would be, but still nothing came.

She took all the same readings again, ignoring his whimpers by now. It wasn't as though there was anything either of them could do about it.

"Hi Felicity," another nurse came in, in pale green scrubs, offering the woman a bright smile that lit his entire face up, revealing cute dimples.

"Hi Owen, how are you?"

"Great, thanks. How's our boy this morning?"

"His stats are looking good. I've eased off on the morphine, like Dr Kemholt said. He's definitely in pain, but it isn't as bad and his responses are improving each time I test them. He's still not talking though."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that. Thanks Flick. See you tonight."

The woman was gone then, with a wave goodbye to a sullen Gabriel. He could be more cheerful about this nurse, though. He was very pretty, and Gabriel watched him move around the room, re-checking some of the details, though thankfully he drew the line at doing anything that would hurt.

The door swung open then, and a tall man in a white coat came in. He was a bit disappointing; definitely not matching that sexy voice Gabriel had heard – much older than he'd thought.

"Dr Peterson, are you ready to discharge?" Owen asked.

"No way, Owen," he laughed, and Gabriel felt a ridiculous ill-placed relief that it wasn't the same voice from before. "We're going to need to monitor these injuries for a while longer. Gray on his way in?"

"Yeah, he said he'd come up here as soon as he starts his shift. Gabriel isn't talking yet."

They murmured to each other for a while, too low for him to hear; he was getting frustrated with everyone talking around him instead of to him, but things weren't clear enough for him to be able to articulate that without words. He felt the panic that was starting to build wash away when another new face appeared, and he knew somehow that it was the man who'd been there when he woke before.

"Hi Gabe." It was proven by that smooth voice, as he ignored the other two, to approach Gabriel directly.

Gabriel tried to smile, but he wasn't sure if his face was working properly, though the man smiled back anyway.

"I'm Dr Kemholt, Gabe. You've been in the wars a bit. Can you remember what happened?"

He shook his head minutely, still feeling the discomfort in his neck, and Dr Kemholt's handsome faced dropped a little before he recovered and smiled again.

"You were dropped off. A while ago. You weren't in a good way, so Dr Peterson decided to put you in an induced coma to help you heal. And it's taken a few days for you to wake up properly, but that's okay."

Gabriel felt his breathing quicken, panicked. 'A while ago'. What did that mean? But he couldn't ask. Once again, that strong hand pressed against his on the bed, and he managed to bring his breathing back under control.

"You have a few injuries, so you'll be in bed for a little while longer, and I don't want you to worry."

That was easier said than done. How was he supposed to not worry? The bill, alone. And why couldn't he remember anything? Or speak.

"Okay, Gabe. You have three broken ribs and a fractured wrist. And there's some damage to your trachea, but I don't think that's why you're not talking, is it?"

Gabriel shook his head. It explained why his neck and his throat hurt, but that wasn't why he couldn't get words to come out.

"Hmm," Dr Kemholt looked down at him blankly, thinking, one strong finger rubbing firmly at his own lips, before turning sharply to the other doctor. "Perhaps he needs to go back under, back into the coma."

The other doctor opened his mouth to respond, but Gabe interrupted, with a rough and scratchy "No!" and Dr Kemholt turned back to him with a smile.

"I thought that might work."

"What the hell, Gray?" the other doctor muttered as he approached Gabriel to check the numbers on his machine.

"When it's psychological a shock might be what's needed."

Gabriel ignored the other doctor's angry mumbles, even though they didn't seem at all like they agreed with Dr Kemholt's theory, because all he could feel was relief. He might not be able to remember why and how he ended up in hospital, but he could speak. Whatever was blocking that had cleared. His voice still belonged to him, even if his memories didn't. 

A/N: Oh, Gray, the ethics committee would have a field day with your methods