Remdy one shots

The Worst News

Sad one babes I'm sorry 

The trip to the hospital wasn't planned, but was a rash decision made by Remington as he was driving home in the early evening. Seeing the signs giving directions towards it on the motorway had reminded him of the multiple, strange dizzy spells he'd had the past few weeks, and as the exit for the hospital got closer, he had checked the time, nodded to himself, and followed the signs. 

Now, he was sitting in his car, having spent more than four hours in the hospital, and couldn't bring himself to continue the journey home. He stared at the steering wheel and then at his hands, then his reflection in the mirror, then at the dark carpark through the window. He blinked until he was about to cry, rubbed harshly at his eyes, and turned the key. 

It was almost midnight. He drove without paying much attention to where he was going, knowing the roads inside out, ending up outside his house, and thought, as he looked up at the glowing windows, that he should turn around and drive until he was somewhere no one could find him, somewhere he could wait alone. 

He sat in the car outside the house for a while, until a knock on the window made him jump. The door was opened and he couldn't make himself make eye contact, as though if he did, something terrible would happen. 

Only, something terrible would happen. Whether he made eye contact or not. 

"You've been sitting here for ten minutes," Andy said.  

Remington blinked until he couldn't see. He got out of the car and went into the house, and he took of his coat and his shoes and he said nothing. 

"Honey," Andy spoke behind him, taking him by the shoulders, making him stop moving. "Something's wrong. What is it?" 

Shrugging him off, Remington headed for the living room, picked up the kettle, filled it. He busied himself with opening cupboards and the fridge and unscrewing the milk bottle cap to avoid making eye contact, but Andy was cornering him, putting his arms either side of him, hands on the counter. 

"Talk to me," he was saying, in his usual low, comforting voice. 

Remington stared at the ground beneath them, blinked when Andy took his chin with his fingers and made him lift his head. He blinked again to keep his eyes dry, and once more for security. 

"Honey," Andy said. "What is it?" 

"I'm making tea." 

"I'll make you tea as soon as you tell me what's wrong." 

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong." 

"And I believe that because I'm, what, an idiot? Come on, don't try that, I'm not stupid and you know that. What's wrong?" 

Remington wanted to look away but he didn't know how. Once Andy had his eyes, tearing them from him was like ripping skin from bone. He said nothing. 

"Come on," the elder coaxed. "Sooner you tell me, sooner you can stop trying to pretend you're fine. Out with it." 

"I..." Remington sighed, hesitated, and ducked under Andy's arms before the man had a chance to stop him. He returned to the kettle, which had just finished boiling, and began pouring the hot water into a mug. 

"Okay, fine. We'll spend the rest of the night pretending nothing's wrong." It wasn't a lie. Remington knew it wasn't. Andy would do that, if he thought it was what he really wanted. 

Pressing the tea bag to the side of the mug, the younger sighed again, let go of the spoon so it dinged against the cup, and turned to face Andy. "I went to the hospital," he said slowly, watched his husband's face for a reaction.

"Why? What for? Are you alright?" 

Hearing the immediate concern seemed only to make it harder. Remington turned back to the mug, scooping the tea bag into the compost bin on the counter and picking up the milk. 

"Remington," Andy said, firmness in his voice. "Why did you go to hospital?" 

As he added the milk to the drink, his hand shook, and he spilled some on the side. Only after he had put the bottle down did he dare speak again. "All those dizzy spells." 

"What dizzy spells? You didn't mention dizzy spells to me? What dizzy spells?" 

"I just...I was driving past, and I thought....I thought that it was on the way and I had nothing to-to lose." 

"Okay, and what happened?" 

He sipped the tea to stall what he had to say and it burnt his tongue. He cursed and put it down. 

"Remington." 

"I told them I was having these-these dizzy spells. Not bad, mind, but still. They were there. I thought I told you." 

"You didn't." 

"I had to wait for ages before they saw me. You know how busy that hospital gets? There weren't enough chairs in the waiting room for people." 

"Don't change the subject. Tell me what happened." 

"They had me do all these scans and tests and whatever." 

"And..." 

"And then I had to wait again. And I saw someone come in with a broken wrist and they were screaming so loud-" 

"Remington." 

He stepped away from the drink and past Andy, sat on the couch, waited for Andy to sit beside him. He yawned and hoped that Andy would see he was too exhausted to talk about it, that he would be able to give his husband one last easy night before telling him what they had told him. But Andy waited for him to answer, and he didn't have it in him to lie, so he looked ahead, at the fire place, took a breath, and spoke. "They said so much about changing my lifestyle and being cautious and everything. I might have longer if-if I change things." 

Andy straightened and turned himself towards Remington, knees pressed into the younger's thigh. "What do you mean, you might have longer? What does that mean?" He was agitated now. It was the very thing Remington was trying to avoid. This was his hell to endure, he didn't want Andy to experience it, too. 

He moved away from Andy, as though the space between them could somehow prevent the elder from feeling any sort of sadness, and shook his head, trying so desperately not to cry that he couldn't breathe properly. Maybe that was a symptom, he thought suddenly, and that was all it took for him to crumble. He started to sob, grasped at his chest, over his heart, worried it would stop working at any second, that he would cease to exist without having the chance to try and fight back.

Andy got off the couch, knelt before him, took his hands. "Honey, look at me," he said calmly. "Tell me what they said." 

"I...they said-they said I-they said I have-uh-I have..." 

Andy started to stroke his hair. 

"Heart failure," Remington whispered, then sobbed again. Andy didn't give a response, just pulled him into his chest and held him while they both cried.