Bad Idea! ✐ FRERARD

✩ LONG CONVERSATIONS ✩

"Well, you're definitely lucky in the long run," He said regardless of Frank's comment, "The stab wound in your right thigh wasn't too deep, and luckily missed any important nerves."

He flipped the page on the clipboard, "As for your bullet wound... the bullet only brushed your bone, meaning the bone isn't entirely shattered but still suffered enough damage for a nasty fracture. No severe permanent nerve damage either, your bone taking most of the impact..."

The man looked back down as Frank awaited to hear more, "You did come close to bleeding out due to the fact the bullet passed close to the femoral artery... but it looks like you dodged a bullet there."

Frank didn't laugh at the man's joke, instead glaring at him as he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Right, anyway, you're going to be fine, Detective Iero. We were able to remove the bullet and the damage to your nerves is nothing your body can't recover from. You'll be in that cast for six to eight weeks, of course with a wheelchair for the first two and crutches during the rest of that time. And it would be safer for you to continue to use them a week after you've gotten your cast taken off while you train your leg to walk again." He said, and Frank just nodded along, not really listening towards the end of what the man was saying.

He noted that he would have to be put in physical therapy once his legs were healed, and that he would be off from work for a while. That last part bummed him out the most he would have to say. What would he do at the apartment all day? He definitely didn't want to be alone for all that time, especially not with the likes of Bob, who would definitely treat him like some sort of orphaned puppy all day.

"And lastly, detective, there's a crowd of people in the waiting room for you," Frank snapped his attention back to the doctor, his eyebrows raising in surprise. "They've been here since last night."

Frank, somewhere deep down, had thought no one would really show up to his hospital room if something like this would ever happen. But... somewhere he felt a small spark of happiness and gratitude.

"Do you feel up to seeing them?" He asked, Frank nodding gently in response. He shifted a bit so he could sit up, careful not to shift his elevated legs too much.

The man disappeared, and Frank tried to keep his mind off of his earlier dark thoughts, trying to think on the positive side of things for once. He had people that were worried about him. He had people that had spent the night in the waiting room for him. Though then a thought popped into his head.

Where was Brendon?

Did he make i-

"There he is!" Frank's attention snapped to a tired Pete, a group of people he didn't even have time to truly register walking in behind him.

There were cheers between them, making Frank flinch. Immediately they quieted down.

"How're you feeling, Iero?" Ryan was the first to ask, rubbing his forearm as they all looked at Frank.

Frank looked at his legs, "Like shit."

Ryan laughed, and Frank offered them a weak, and quite strained smile.

"You were a real good cop last night," Mikey said, offering him a sympathetic look, "I know Alex got away but you risked a lot going on that call without dispatch."

Frank nodded weakly, looking down, "Where's Urie?"

"He's in a different part of the hospital." Ryan answered quietly, "I mean, Bren suffered a pretty bad stabbing but you nearly bled to death in the ambulance— like, you stopped breathing for a while and went into hypovolemic shock so they had to—"