Pete:

There's something about being on the brink of death too many times. It becomes less of a fear and more of an expectation. Blacking out is just the slowest form of blinking. Your heart stopping is just a temporary annoyance. Waking up after the incident is just like waking up from a dream. Being told you're alive for now isn't so much a blessing as it is a warning.

I'd looked death in the eye more times than any normal person should. Not to say that I consider myself a normal person. It was just tiring. I didn't want to die, but I was sick of death playing this unsatisfying, never ending game of freeze tag with my life. I'm it and then I'm not. I'm frozen and then I'm freed. I'm gone and then I'm back. No offense to the grim reaper, but either complete the fucking job or leave me the hell alone.

Facing death again didn't scare me.

Patrick facing death... Well that fucking terrified me.

I opened my eyes from the dream of the hotel room to find that the nightmare was just beginning. I was fine. My cancer was kicking my ass, but what else was new? The doctors told me the same thing Andy did. The same thing Tyler did. That if I didn't get help soon, I wasn't going to last much longer. Like I was some pint of milk in the fridge dancing along the lines of my expiration date. Starting to thicken. Starting to smell.

Cool. Fine. I prefer yogurt anyway.

But then I'd acquired about the last man I remembered speaking to. Where was Patrick and why wasn't he at my side when I came to? No one wanted to tell me what everyone knew. Patrick Stump, My fiance for the second time, the love of my life was upstairs in the intensive care unit. Trying to recover from what could only be described as a catastrophic car accident. Hit twice. One car to each side of his.

Things were broken, fractured, scraped, bleeding, ripped, torn, burned. The whole shebang really. I didn't want to hear the gory details of each mark. All I wanted to know is if my man would be okay. And after three days and two surgeries, I found out he was still breathing. His heart was beating and that was all I needed to know.

The equipment in his room wasn't as grand as I was expecting. He wasn't connected to a million machines with tubes and wires and needles poking out of him. There was a single heart monitor, an I.V feeding him because his throat wasn't strong enough to eat. A cast covered his left leg from the knee to the ankle. His hand only needed a splint. I was told his ribs were also wrapped tightly under the hospital gown. The brace on his neck was more for precaution than anything. But the bandages around his head and covering a fraction of his face, well, those had a strong purpose. All in all my baby was bruised, broken, battered, but alive.

And I was there just to make sure the last thing didn't change.

Just as I walked in his room, Patrick's eyes squinted before opening. It wasn't a big event. He'd woken up multiple times throughout his recovery.

"Pete?" But the speaking was new.

"You look like shit." I whispered as I approached the bed.

He rolled his eyes. I could see the exact moment he realized he was unable to move. The moment he realized how much pain his body was in. His eyes darkened. His lips tilted down. Patrick used his free hand, void of a cast but covered in scratches, to touch his face. Probably testing the soreness. The tips of his fingers brushed against the bandages. He winced.

"Is my face really that bad?" My answering smile was a sad one. Patrick exhaled in resignation. "That's a yes."

"At least you're alive."

"So are you."

My smile shifted. "Thank you for calling 911."

"If you knew you needed help, why didn't you just call?"

"I needed you to know something was wrong." I explained. "If I would have called them I would have still blacked out like I did. And you wouldn't have known what was going on or where to find me. Calling you meant you'd know and the paramedics would be on their way."

"That," His hand lowed back to his side. "Makes a lot of sense."

"I just didn't know it would mean paramedics would be bringing you in too."

He choked out a laugh. One he quickly cut off. "Ouch. Don't make me laugh."

"I'm sorry."

"You know none of this would have happened if you would have stayed with me instead of going to that hotel." My face drained of it's color. He was right. I was an idiot. Now my fiance was laid in a hospital bed barely able to move because of me. Holy shit how could I- "I'm Joking, Pete." Patrick swore under his breath at my distress. "It's not your fault. None of this is your fault. That was a stupid joke. I- wait." His brows furrowed.

"What?"

"If you called me then that means you were alone. Where was Tyler?"

"He left that morning."

"What? Why?"

I looked away. "He said he wasn't going to watch me kill myself. Which is exactly what's going to happen if I don't start treatment very soon."

"I need to see your charts." He moved as if to sit up. I placed a hand on the shoulder of his good arm to stop him.

"Slow down there, doctor. Recover and then you can help me."

"I need to help now-"

"Once you get better, we're going to Canada."

Patrick's eyes widened. "We're going?"

"When I walked in your room the first time, I thought you were dead. You looked dead. The way that made me feel... I never want you to feel that. Tyler says the full recovery shouldn't take more than two years. Then we can come back here for good. I talked to Brendon and he's fully prepared to take on your roll while you're away. You'll come back throughout the two years as you need to. We'll work it out."

"Can you kiss me?"

"What?"

"I can't fucking move but I want to kiss you. Can you kiss me?"

"Of course, baby." Gently, maybe more than necessary, I leaned over to press my lips against his. Patrick sighed into it. "The guys are in the waiting room. So are your parents."

"How-"

"Eliza called them. They got here yesterday."

"Yesterday?" His eyes flashed nervously. "How long was I-"

"Three days." I deadpanned. "I"m going to go get them. Give you some time with them alone."

"What are you going to do?"

"I just got released so I'm going to go get food with Tyler."

"I thought you said-"

"Brendon told him what happened and he came back immediately."

Patrick pursed his lips. His expression was unreadable. "Sounds like he loves you."

I shrugged. No use denying it. "Well, I love you."

That was the right thing to say. His face lightened. "And Tyler?"

"He'll grow out of whatever he thinks he feels."

Patrick frowned. That was the wrong thing to say. Guess I was hit and miss with this shit.

"That sounds like it's going to be a problem."

"Then it'll be a problem we'll have to take on later." I brushed my thumb over his lips. Ignoring how dry it felt. "We have time. Everything can't be solved right now, Patrick."

"I love you."

"I love you more." I assured him.

"No way."

"Yes way."

"I almost died for you."

"Ditto."

"I'll fight you on this, Pete."

"Babe." I bent towards him again. This time letting my lips brush above his eyebrow. "I'd totally kick your ass right now."

A/N:
Thank you all soooooooooooooo much for sticking with me through this ride! I know it took forever and it probably wasn't as great as you expected when you asked for a sequel, but I enjoyed writing it and I enjoyed all your comments. Thank you again ! Xo