Jace turned to him with a knowing expression. “I thought I wore you out last night?”

Ben smirked. “I slept well.”

Jace tried to grin in response but winced instead.

“Are you all right?”

“My head is killing me,” Jace said.

“You didn’t drink anything last night.”

“No, but I’m beginning to wish I had, especially if I’m going to have the hangover anyway.” He sat at the kitchen table and rubbed his temples. “Grab me a couple aspirin, would you?”

“Sure.”

His face was pale and drawn when Ben returned. “Maybe it was something you ate? Is your stomach okay? You could be coming down with a bug.”

Jace shook his head and tossed the aspirin into his mouth, chasing them down with a swig of coffee. The cup shook as he tried to return it to the table before his hand spasmed. The cup shattered on the linoleum, hot coffee splattering across the floor like blood at a crime scene.

“So clumsy,” Jace said, standing to fetch a towel. His legs buckled beneath him and he crumpled to the floor, the fear reflected in his eyes fading to emptiness.

Ben was at his side instantly, holding his head off the floor and launching a barrage of questions that went unanswered. He felt helpless, touching Jace’s face, feeling for fever, trying to find some way to help him. Jace remained unresponsive.

Ben called 911 and in his panic gave the operator their old address. He called back when he realized his mistake, fearing they would think him a prank caller and never come. Then he waited, switching between checking on Jace and running to the front door. What was taking so long? Didn’t they understand how serious this was? Couldn’t they get here sooner?

He ran to the driveway when he heard the sirens, his words rambling and confused, but he managed to point the paramedics in the right direction. Jace was unmoving when they collected him off the floor.

“Is he dead? Is he dead?” he chanted, but all the paramedics said was to stand back.

He barely had the presence of mind to shut the door as they left, praying Samson hadn’t escaped. Ben clambered into the ambulance, watching as they put a device over Jace’s mouth, a bag that the paramedic squeezed to keep him breathing. That was good. That meant he was alive.

* * * * *

“Aneurysm.”

The doctor had said much more than that, but this was the word Ben fixated on. He struggled to remember what it meant, something with the brain. A tumor? Or just a blip of electricity in the wrong place?

“His grandmother died from one,” Ben remembered. “Oh god, is he going to--”

“That he made it here alive is a promising sign,” the doctor assured him. “He has a five-hour surgery ahead of him. If he can pull through that, he has a good chance. I must warn you though, there could be complications. Are you family?”

“Yes.”

Every complication was listed on a piece of paper Ben was asked to sign. He barely scanned this list of nightmare possibilities. This was a choice between life and death. If Jace survived, they could deal with what sort of life he was left with.

Jace’s family arrived while he was still in surgery, which was a great relief to Ben. Finally he was with people who understood that the world was coming undone at the seams. That calm, unshakable Jace had fallen was impossible.

A nurse informed his family that Jace had suffered a class four cerebral aneurysm. They were able to explain to Ben what this meant. An aneurysm was a ballooned portion of blood vessel filled with blood. If left undetected it could rupture, causing bleeding in the brain. Once that happened there was only a fifty percent chance of survival.

Waiting for the results of the surgery was pure agony. Ben tried to imagine his life without Jace and couldn’t. He had been the center of Ben’s world for too many years now. Going on without him would be impossible. He’d rather die himself. How could anyone expect him to do otherwise?

Redemption came in the form of a very tired surgeon. He gave them a weary smile and the news that the surgery had been a success. Now it was up to Jace to recover.

The next four days were crucial, the high chance of fatality still looming over them. Ben maintained a constant vigil as Jace flitted in and out of consciousness. At times he didn’t know who Ben was, or he would say strange things, worrying once that Samson was going to be late to work. Their laughter at such times was frantic and short-lived. What if this is how he would behave from now on? What if Ben remained forgotten?

Equally worrying was the lack of movement on Jace’s left side. Among the constant warnings from doctors and nurses was the possibility of permanent paralysis on that side. When Jace began clapping on the fifth day, for reasons known only to him, the entire family cried with relief.

By the end of the week Jace had returned to them. He knew who they were and remembered what had happened. He also complained of pain and how loud everything was. Another side effect. They had to whisper when around him, otherwise they sounded like they were shouting.

“I’m sorry about all of this.”

This was the first coherent sentence Jace said to him. Ben wept while covering his face in kisses.

* * * * *

The ducks snapped up the bread greedily, occasionally bickering with each other and trying to steal more than their share. For Ben and Jace this was a game as they tried to ensure that every duck received its fair portion. Sitting cross-legged on the dock, they were benevolent judges, casting torn bread to the meeker ducks in the back and refusing those who behaved too aggressively.

Renting the lakeside cabin had been a gift from Ben’s parents to celebrate Jace’s graduation from six weeks of physical therapy. He was doing great, too. Physically he had made a near full recovery. Occasionally his left hand gave him trouble but it was manageable, although he still tended to tire easily.

Mentally things were a bit harder. He often had short-term memory loss, would forget what he was going to say or what he had been doing. On good days he could laugh about it, but his medical crisis had brought out a new side to Jace. Ben had noticed it during his rehabilitation, how impatient Jace would become, even losing his temper on a few occasions. His usual self-assured calmness was gone.

Noise was still a problem, too. Occasionally he developed a strong sensitivity. Predicting when it would happen was difficult, but when it did he would shut himself in a quiet room and could only be addressed in a whisper.

“I’d like to go back to work again,” Jace said, tossing the last chunk of bread to a duck brave enough to come onto the dock.

“You will eventually.”

“Not if I can’t remember safety procedures, or what drink someone ordered.” Jace frowned. “And not before the other surgeries.”

A MRI had revealed two other aneurysms, not yet ruptured, that would have to be removed. The doctors wanted to give Jace a few months between surgeries to make sure he recovered from each. The plan was sensible, but Ben could understand how it made Jace feel like a ticking time bomb.

“I’m just glad to finally have you home so much,” Ben said, leaning on his arm. “Nearly losing you was a pretty hefty price, but I’m willing to reap the rewards now.”

Jace smiled and pulled him closer. “Maybe I can get a job at one of the check-in counters. Lifting luggage would be good physical therapy and the computer does the rest.”

“Stop talking about work, you jerk! I’m trying to have a romantic moment here.”

Jace laughed. Together they watched the ducks slowly lose interest and swim away.

* * * * *

“Come here.”

Ben looked up from his script. Jace was standing there, his hand held out to him.

“Come to bed with me.”

“We just got up,” Ben said, checking his watch.

“Come.”

Ben took his hand and followed. He understood what this was about. There were only a few days until Jace’s next surgery, and they both had been tense all week. Jace had lost his temper a few times, nothing major, but for him even the slightest bit of anger was a transgression.