Neither of them moved.
He glanced at his son one last time. Then back at Hudson. “See that he gets the best care.”
Then he was gone.
Hudson sank back down into the chair, not letting go of Elliot’s hand. “So,” he said. “I think I just outed you to your father.” He exhaled. “You can be mad at me about that later.”
He tightened his fingers around Elliot’s, pulling their joined hands up for him to rest his forehead on. He blew out a deep breath and closed his eyes.
“Well… that was a… dick move,” a hoarse voice croaked from the bed.
Hudson’s head snapped up.
Elliot’s eyes were open. Small slits, heavy-lidded, fighting the light. But open. Looking at him.
For what felt like forever, Hudson couldn't speak. Couldn't move. He was unsure if it was real. He had barely slept for days.
“H—Hey,” Elliot rasped. His voice was wrecked, dry and rough. “You're crying.”
“I’m— What? No—” Hudson touched his cheeks. “Oh. Is this… real?”
“I think so. You tell me. Aren’t you … trained in… situational awareness?” The words came out strangled.
A laugh escaped Hudson, taking him by surprise. He hadn’t laughed in a week, which was very unlike him. “Wow. I guess that answers my question.”
Elliot blinked slowly. His eyes tracked around the room clocking the monitors and the boards on the wall listing scan results and bloodwork. “Germany?”
“Landstuhl,” Hudson confirmed. He was still holdingElliot’s hand. Didn’t think he would ever let go of it. “You’ve been out for six days.”
The familiar machinery of Elliot’s brain seemed to be coming back online, processing, cataloguing. Even half-conscious he was doing the math.
He looked to the empty chair on the other side of the bed. “D—did you say my father was here?”
“Oh, yeah. He… um… left. I might have held your hand in front of him. Very deliberately.”
Elliot exhaled and closed his eyes. “I’m sure he loved that.”
“I’m sorry, Elliot. I didn’t actually mean to. But he was telling me to leave and I?—”
“No,” Elliot stopped him, swallowing hard. “It’s okay. You being here… is the only thing that matters.”
Hudson stood and stepped closer, staring down into Elliot’s amber green eyes. “I love you. You have no idea how—” His voice broke on the last word. “Please don’t ever do that to me again.”
Elliot lifted his hand and put it on Hudson’s arm. Weak, but there. “I—I love you too,” he mumbled. “Thanks for being here.”
Hudson bent and pressed his lips to Elliot's forehead, carefully, and stayed there for a moment. “Okay,” he said finally, straightening. “I need to go get the doctors.”
Dr.Bauer, two nurses and three other people Hudson didn’t recognize hovered over Elliot. Checking and prodding.
Hudson pressed himself into the corner of the room and watched them work, arms crossed over his chest, holding his breath.
Elliot was responsive. Tracking. Answering questions correctly—his name, the year, the last thing he remembered. His grip strength was good. Pupils were equal and reactive. Dr. Bauer spoke to him in careful English and Elliot responded in full sentences.
Hudson remained in the corner and tried not to fall apart a second time.
“We’ll take him up for a scan,” Bauer said, turning to Hudson. “We’ll have results within the hour and come back to discuss. Everything's promising.”
Hudson nodded.
