[ After another hour or so, NOT BECAUSE MADISON WAS DELAYING, he
was being rushed around delicate tech and was not allowed to have his phone
with him. When he sees the text, he says, immediately,
It wasn't your fault.
[ After a
couple of minutes, the name and address of the hospital. ]
[ Not necessarily a lie. Maybe halfway a lie. Not Thomas's fault
that a stupid stomach bug chose tonight to hit Madison, with dysentery and
throwing up and everything.
It may be a little
bit Thomas's fault that Madison didn't bother to even think about taking
care of himself until he was dehydrated and really, really not okay. That
last text was basically before he collapsed in the middle of the hallway as
he was finally going to at least go home.
for helpful interns, right? They called 911 and got him all settled and
Now he's mostly lying curled up on his
side, IV hooked to his arm as he's staring into space with just.
And then he catches sight of motion, and
his eyes slowly travel to the door. Then widen, and then squeeze closed,
his body sort of sagging into the bed. His voice shakes, but it's also
warm, so warm. ]
[ No hesitation. And yes, that one probably would
work. It would have also worked if you'd sent it, oh, when you first didn't
pick up the phone, what, fifteen hours ago? Sixteen? It doesn't matter. It
Though actually... having Thomas
there, the tension in his jaw, in his shoulders, all over the familiar, fit
frame? It makes Madison's mind kick right back into gear. And no, he wasn't
trying to kill himself or anything like that. He just. Couldn't think about
feeling like crap or throwing up bile, it just seemed
Now it suddenly isn't, and, on top of
the emotional tenterhooks he's been trying to ignore and suppress for so
long? He kind of feels bruised on the inside. His voice actually sounds a
shade weaker, though his eyes are just as intense on Jefferson.
Please, take a seat. If - if only for a little while. I won't keep
you if you need to go, just. Just for a little while.
presses his lips against the babbling. ]