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Johnny groaned, slowly coming to, disoriented and dizzy. He blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings, and realized he was bound hand and foot, his arms tightly secured behind him. He must have been out for a long time, for his whole body felt stiff and uncomfortable.
“Hey, you're awake,” Kenner greeted him, too enthusiastic for their current predicament.
Johnny squirmed on the ground, not unlike the worm, trying to angle himself so he could see his partner. “Lucky me,” he muttered rather unhappily.
“Are you injured?” He got straight to the point, realizing he wouldn't be able to gauge it himself from his contorted position on the floor.
“Nah, still in one piece. You?” Kenner momentarily stopped his attempts at getting his hands free and quieted down.
“I don't think so, no,” Johnny answered, slight uncertainty creeping into his voice. He felt queasy, but couldn't quite figure out why. Besides the whole getting kidnapped situation, of course. He craned his neck a bit farther and discovered two discarded pieces of cloth on the ground next to them.
“Were we blindfolded, too?” He asked incredulously. “How did you manage to get them off?”
Kenner shrugged, or, rather, tried to, given his current incapacitation. “I am a man of many talents, partner,” he said, way too smugly.
“Well, thanks,” Johnny offered warmly. “Would have been shitty to be stuck in this hole in complete darkness.”
“Uh-huh,” Kenner hummed in agreement.
“How come you came round a lot faster than I did?” Johnny asked, confused. It must have taken Chris ages to get hold of those blindfolds, being tied up like that.
“Have you seen yourself in the mirror?” Kenner asked rhetorically. “I’m a lot bulkier than you. They really should have ramped up the dose of the drugs.”
Johnny rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, so we could both stay unconscious till we died? I'll pass. At least you being a hunk comes with some perks.”
“Not all of us can be as slender and lithe as someone here, you know,” Kenner objected, irony lacing his voice.
Johnny blushed at his words, hoping that the dim lights would cover it. “How do you think we got here?” He pondered, trying to bring all the pieces together. The last thing he remembered was sitting at a table in some cafe, then being engulfed by blackness.
“My guess is they have been tailing us,” Kenner suggested, trying to align himself as best as he could with Johnny's current position. “Must have paid or threatened the waitress to put whatever the hell that was into our coffees.”
“They still had to have somehow gotten us out of there without anyone noticing,” Johnny frowned.
“Do you really think anyone paid attention to what we were drinking?” Kenner asked, doubt coloring his voice. “Could have easily pretended they were just concerned friends, getting their passed-out drunk buddies home.”
“Good point,” Johnny agreed. “What are you doing?” He asked, confused, seeing Kenner crawl toward him.
“I wanna try and get out of these ties, but it will only work if we undo each other's knots,” Chris explained, moving as fast as he could, which was still excruciatingly slow.
“Worth a shot,” Johnny gave his best impression of a shrug and got going.
After what felt like ages, they were finally positioned the right way and set out to work.
“Ugh, they are not coming loose,” Johnny grunted in frustration. Johnny prided himself on being quite dexterous, but nothing was helping here. “Any luck, Kenner?”
“Nope,” he answered simply. “I've got an idea, though.”
“What is it?” Johnny wondered, putting a stop to his own ministrations.
“Gotta use our teeth to chew off at least some bits of the rope,” Kenner explained, already maneuvering himself to face Johnny's tied hands.
“What, are you crazy? You'd have to bite my fingers off for that to work,” Johnny protested.
“Relax, I'll be gentle,” Kenner deadpanned in his usual manner.
Johnny rolled his eyes. Beggars can't be choosers, he figured.
“Ready?” Kenner asked after some considerable grunting and squirming.
“Go for it,” Johnny steeled himself for the discomfort and tried to stay as still as possible. “Ouch,” he hissed as Kenner's teeth grazed his fingers. “You've got very sharp teeth, champ.”
Kenner spat out a piece of rope he had just bitten off. “Is this the part where you call me a Dracula or something, like in that movie you made me watch?”
Johnny chuckled. “Glad to see my cultural immersion lessons are not going to waste. And no, vampires feed off blood, not fibers.”
“Glad to see you find it all so amusing,” Kenner grumbled light-heartedly.
After a few dozen tries and some more discomfort for Johnny's digits, he felt the ties get slack at last and hurried to shake them off.
“Yes!” Johnny exclaimed gleefully. “Good work, champ.” He rubbed his numb hands, wincing as the sensations came back to them, then scrambled to undo Kenner's ties as well.
“You're not too bad yourself, Murata,” Kenner nodded, as Johnny nimbly got them both rid of the rope remains. “Now let's see what we're working with here.” He rose to his feet, finally able to observe the surroundings properly.
Johnny followed suit, knocking and prodding at the walls.
“There aren't too many places they could have taken us”, Kenner pondered out loud. “An abandoned warehouse or a factory, a garage, maybe?” He suggested, having completed the initial check-up and found nothing that could point them toward their current location.
“Yeah, could be,” Johnny agreed, still looking into the corners and the ceiling. “Aha!” he cried triumphantly as he spotted a ventilation shaft. He was about to call for Kenner when he felt a sharp sting of a needle entering his arm. Turning his head to the right, he saw Kenner holding a syringe and quickly pushing its remaining contents through.
“Don't freak out,” Kenner asked, raising his other hand placatingly.
“What the hell, man?” He swore, confusion and irritation mixed in one. “Is that,” he narrowed his eyes in suspicion, looking at a vaguely familiar color in a syringe, trying to recall where he had seen it before, “the cure from our lab?” His eyes widened in realization. “Fuck! How did you even get it? More importantly, how did you know I was poisoned in the first place?”
“Remember how I told you I didn't black out right away because of the dosage they gave us?” Kenner started calmly. “I overheard them saying there'd be no more trouble from us soon. And when they swept us for weapons later, it hit me that I still had the antidote on me from this morning. Just dumb luck they didn't find it,” Kenner shrugged. “And that I needed the sample for Nelson. I thought I'd left it on the desk.”
“Wait a second, you said us, not me. Did you get injected too?” Johnny wasn't sure how that was news to him; of course they'd take a chance to get rid of both problems at the same time, but something akin to mild panic, along with a hot fury, momentarily clouded his judgment. “Please tell me you have another one,” Johnny pleaded, trying and failing to keep it together.
“Why would I have two?” Kenner asked in turn.
“Then why the hell did you use it all up on me?” Johnny raised his voice, barely refraining from screaming, poking Kenner's chest with an accusatory finger.
“Look, we don't have time for this,” Kenner argued. “There's no telling how soon it will hit me full force.”
Johnny gulped, amazed at how his partner managed to be so nonchalant and blasé about the whole thing.
“Okay,” he acquiesced. “But we will discuss it later. At length,” he added for good measure.
Kenner only rolled his eyes in response. “What was it you were saying about the shaft?”
“That's our only way out of here,” Johnny admitted ruefully. “Unless you found something I didn't?” He asked, not hoping for much.
Kenner shook his head. “I clearly won't fit in there, so...” he trailed off, the message evident.
“And leave you here? Fat chance,” Johnny scoffed at his idea. “What if you pass out? Or someone comes back to check on us, and you won't be able to fight them off?”
“You said yourself it's our only way out. Besides, I feel fine,” Kenner stated confidently. “I will take them out, should it come to it.”
Johnny squinted at him, but figured there was no point in arguing further and wasting the little time they had left. He squeezed Kenner’s shoulder in reassurance. “I bet I'll be back before you know it, champ.”
“I'm counting on it”, Kenner shot back easily.
“Here we go,” Johnny muttered, wedging himself into a tight space, barely wide enough even for his slender form.
Kenner made sure Johnny was way out of earshot before sliding down the wall in exhaustion. The poison worked in spurts, worming its way through his system before finally hitting him in full. It took Kenner all he had in him not to show Johnny how weak and debilitated he already felt. He knew Johnny wouldn't have left otherwise. He also knew that the symptoms meant he likely didn't have much longer. The last thing Johnny needed was to see his partner die in front of him.
***
Johnny crawled and crawled onwards for what felt like hours, coughing and spluttering at the grime, dust, and cobwebs around him. He supposed he was lucky there were no rodents in sight. Finally, he spotted a faint light in the distance and made his way to it as fast as he could. Time was working against them. The light turned out to be coming from the same vent, and soon Johnny kicked it open, tumbling to the ground with it. He shook his head, momentarily disoriented, then froze in place, trying to get his bearings. A run-in with another batch of criminals wasn't in his plans for today. Everything seemed quiet, and he slowly got up, looking for something to use as a makeshift weapon. Just like they suspected, Johnny found himself in an abandoned warehouse, and he had no trouble finding a piece of pipe which was light enough to carry around while heavy enough to be used as a lever too, should he need it. He had to figure out which way to go to access the place he left Kenner at from the outside.
All his surroundings were as dilapidated and vacant as he expected, which was a good sign. Chances were that no one was posted to guard them, given that they were supposed to croak from the poison sooner or later. Johnny winced, feeling a pang of fear hit him again. He couldn't help thinking that Kenner sent him away on purpose. Focus, dammit, he told himself sternly. Your partner needs you. Kenner could hold his own, no matter what state he was in.
He hurried ahead, making sure to step lightly and as quickly as he could. The warehouse was considerably smaller than he expected, and soon enough he reached the exit gate. Johnny groaned in frustration, looking at a seemingly solid structure with no points of vulnerability. He ditched the pipe to get his hands free to roam over the surface, checking every nook and cranny. On closer inspection, Johnny at last noticed a small space where two halves didn't quite fit as smoothly as they should have. He grabbed the pipe and got to work, wedging it in between to try and pry the rusty gate back open. The gate creaked and screeched as Johnny was giving it his all, and finally budged, inch by inch. The hellish noises it made were sure to attract unwanted attention if anyone was in the vicinity, so he'd have to be extra careful once out in the street again. He heaved with exhaustion, sweat dripping from his forehead. Or were those side effects of the poison? He didn't care much; all he had to do now was locate his partner and get him the fuck out of there.
A few agonizingly slow turns of the pipe later, the wedge was finally large enough for him to squeeze through. It was starting to get dark, and he wondered once again how long they had been here. The yard was run-down and unkempt, and no one immediately jumped him, so Johnny pushed forward, trying to remember which direction to start with. One building caught his attention, as it was located slightly to the side and looked the right size. He picked up the pace, approaching what seemed to be the door they couldn't kick down from the inside earlier. And no wonder: a huge, outdated, half-ruined piece of machinery was propped against it, making it virtually impossible to break. The bastards must have seen it when leaving the place and decided to take no chances on them.
“Kenner, you there?” He asked, his voice piercing the otherwise eerie quiet.
No one answered, so he tried again, louder this time: “Kenner! Are you in there?”
“Yeah,” his partner finally responded, sounding unusually subdued and worn-out. At least he wasn't unconscious.
“Good,” Johnny replied, relief palpable in his voice. “Now I know why the door didn't budge earlier. There's this huge thing blocking it from outside.”
He took a deep breath, then got to work, sliding his hands down the machinery's side. The metal monstrosity refused to cooperate as he planted his feet firmly on the ground, pushing at it with all he had, grunting from exertion. His efforts paid off before long, as he was finally able to move it farther, unlocking access to the door.
“Shit, this thing was heavy,” Johnny cursed, panting. “Kenner, you with me, buddy?” He tried again, receiving a non-committal grunt in response. “Ok, I need you to step back now.”
Waiting a few beats to catch his breath and give Kenner time to get away from the door, he took his position and landed a heavy kick at the door's vulnerable point. It creaked menacingly, but didn't budge right away. Another hit proved that it was too flimsy to be left as it was, so their captors were smart to take precautions. A third kick did the trick, and Johnny found his way inside. There he was greeted with the sight of his barely conscious partner pumped against the wall.
“Fuck, Kenner!” He rushed to his side, getting down on his knees.
“How bad is it?” He asked worriedly, checking his pulse. It was irregular and a lot slower than normal. Kenner himself looked deadly pale and utterly exhausted.
“I think I passed out earlier,” Kenner tried his best to focus on Johnny, “when you called me.”
“Alright, champ, we're getting you out of here now.” He wrapped his arm around Kenner's waist, pulling him to his feet. “Think you can walk if you lean on me?“
Kenner nodded, and they were off. To his credit, he did a fairly good job of actually moving on his own. Johnny wasn't sure he would be able to carry his prone form out: the man was a hunk, after all, all muscles and tendons.
As they slowly trudged forward, it occurred to Johnny that they couldn't exactly escape on their feet. Kenner was barely standing. He'd have to hijack a car or a truck. That is, if he could even find one in this dump. Luck smiled on them again, as Johnny spotted an inconspicuous- looking car with a broken side window. Someone must have still been using it, then, and fairly recently, too. He hoped its motor remained intact and that there was some fuel left in the tank, too.
“Seems too good to be true,” Kenner commented in a rare moment of thought clarity.
“You don't say,” Johnny agreed, then guided him towards the passenger's seat and leaned through the smashed window to open the door for him. Kenner collapsed onto the seat, and Johnny hurried to take his own.
“I'm sure you're dying to tell me how you learned to hotwire a car,” Kenner said, surprising him again by sounding almost like his normal sardonic self.
“Story for another time, champ,” Johnny bit back lightly, focusing on the task at hand.
Kenner only shrugged in response. He was clearly struggling to stay awake.
A few minutes later, Johnny heard a telltale sound of an engine roaring back to life and smiled triumphantly. They had no time left to spare.
***
Once Johnny figured out which part of the city they were in, the drive got monotonous and uneventful. He must have broken a couple of rules for sure, going way over the speed limit and not giving a flying fuck about that. Stopping at another red light, squeezed in between several other cars, Johnny turned his head to the side to check in on Kenner and found him slouched on the seat, head hung low on his chest, eyes closed.
“Hey, Kenner!” He called his name, alarmed. “Stay with me, okay? Kenner!” Johnny screamed again, desperate to wake him up.
His right hand slid from the wheel to check Kenner's pulse once more when he finally responded: “Stop shouting, would you? My head's killing me.”
Johnny exhaled loudly, twitching as the car behind them honked. The lights had already turned green, and he slammed on the gas.
“Stop trying to give me a heart attack, would you?” He snapped back, more than a little on edge.
Kenner raised his hands in mock surrender. He was blinking rapidly, trying to focus on Johnny.
“Just hang tight, okay? We're almost there,” Johnny pleaded, keeping an eye on his partner, afraid to see him pass out again.
“That's good,” Kenner replied weakly.
A couple more blocks farther, and Johnny was finally parking outside the precinct.
“I'll be right back,” he reassured Kenner as he bolted out of the car and through the main entrance.
“Hey, Johnny, what are you-“
“Call an ambulance, Bob,” Johnny cut to the chase, making a beeline for the lab and talking over his shoulder. “Kenner's been poisoned.”
Whatever Bob was trying to respond flew right past him as he practically ran down the corridor and through the second door to the right.
“Where's the antidote to "Quicksilver"? I need it, now,” he barged in without a greeting.
“You can't just take it, Johnny. We have procedures in place-“
“That goddamn thing is crashing right through Kenner's system with every second I have to stand here and listen to your bureaucratic bullshit, Kyle. I don't wanna waste another one,” he immediately interrupted whatever protests Kyle was about to come up with. “Just give it to me. I'll deal with the consequences later.”
The lab was in uproar, but Johnny couldn't care less about all the fuss around him. He was off again as soon as his fingers clasped the syringe.
***
By the time he got through all the hustle and bustle at the precinct and finally made his way back to the car, Kenner had already lost consciousness again.
“Fuck!” Johnny swore, feeling more than a little uncomfortable at having to undress his out-of-it partner. Not that he was doing it for some obscene purpose, just desperately trying to save his life. Johnny's wild imagination took him to places where he could be taking Chris's hideous jacket off under very different circumstances, and he blushed at his own inappropriate thoughts.
Where the hell was that ambulance? The jacket finally came off, and Johnny, for once, appreciated Kenner's ridiculous penchant for wearing tank tops. Now that gave him easy access to quickly inject Kenner with the cure. His partner didn't even stir, and he found himself, hopefully for the last time today, reaching out and placing his fingers on Kenner's neck pulse point. The beat was painfully slow, but still present, and Johnny sighed in relief as he heard the wailing of the approaching siren.
“Don't you dare die on me after everything, champ,” he half-ordered, half-pleaded, then hurried to meet the medics.
Johnny quickly gave them the rundown of what had happened to his partner as he watched them move Kenner's prone form out of the car and onto the stretcher. He regretted not being able to describe the specifics of the poison or its components, but he really hoped that the antidote in his system would do the job. Otherwise, a phone call to the lab was always an option.
He secured a ride in the ambulance by casually mentioning that he, too, was injected with the venom and subsequently the same antidote, and agreeing to them running some tests and examining him in the hospital. He was now sitting by Kenner's side, observing the doctors doing their best to stabilize him and realizing that at that point it was all out of his hands. At least before, he had something to do to occupy his mind and keep his worries at bay. Now that he was reduced to the role of a mere spectator, he felt all of the emotions and thoughts warring inside his head bubble to the surface and threaten to consume him.
He blinked a few times, trying to focus on what was right in front of him, and unconsciously reached out and squeezed Chris's shoulder. He needed the physical touch to ground himself.
“You gotta pull through, buddy, you hear me?” Johnny muttered under his nose, carefully controlling the volume of his voice.
He felt the sudden urge to grab Kenner's hand and squeeze it too, but stomped it down. The medics were already giving him the side eye.
The ride was mercifully fast, and just a handful of minutes later Johnny was trailing after the EMTs as they rushed Kenner's gurney through the entrance and to the ER. A pair of strong arms stopped him as he wanted to follow them behind the closed doors.
“You can't go in there,” the doctor explained, waving away all his protests in a calm and collected voice. “Someone will be with you shortly to examine you.”
Johnny pursed his lips and nodded, taking a step back and leaning against the wall.
***
“A coma?” Johnny repeated numbly, shaking his head dejectedly.
His own blood work hadn't come through yet, but he was given an all-clear based on the results of the initial examination. Once Kenner was whisked away, the whole ordeal turned into a whirlwind of activity, and Johnny barely had a moment to catch his breath. He diligently sat through the doctor's ministrations, answering all the questions, but mentally he was all the way down where he last saw his partner, pale and unconscious.
He had the presence of mind to acknowledge how useless he would be, just sitting here waiting for any news while Chief was no doubt expecting his full debrief. The sooner they could send someone to the warehouse and scrape the evidence, the better. Chances were the culprits would come back to dispose of their bodies soon, if they hadn't already.
His thoughts were taking him to dark places he'd much rather avoid, so Johnny sprang into action the minute his examination was over. The adrenaline propelling him forward all this time was dwindling, and he felt exhausted and drowsy, so he made a quick pit stop in front of the coffee vending machine. He chugged the scalding hot coffee in a few gulps as his stomach grumbled in protest. Johnny rubbed his face tiredly, standing with his back against the wall. Lack of sleep and anxiety twisted into a tight knot inside him, weighing him down. He decided he'd grab something on the way from the station and headed toward the exit.
The long and arduous debrief with the Chief turned his mild headache into a splitting one. Johnny tried his best to remember as many details about what happened as he could, quickly giving the directions to the potential whereabouts of the place where he and Kenner were held. After Nelson dispatched the unit there, the conversation turned to the kidnapping itself. He still had no idea what the thugs looked like and who they could be, so working with a sketch artist was out of the question.
Johnny’s face fell as Nelson inquired after Kenner's state. Earlier on the way to his office, he stopped by the lab and confirmed the hospital had been in touch with them, asking for more details regarding the poison and the antidote, but there had been no news since. Having obtained everything he could, Nelson dismissed Johnny, giving him the rest of the day off.
Johnny listlessly ate his favorite hot dog he usually got around the corner of the station, unable to enjoy its taste, then headed back to the hospital. That is where he found himself startled awake as someone shook his shoulder. He must have dozed off, sitting in the chair and waiting for any updates.
“His condition is stable,” the doctor continued reassuringly. “And you injected him with the antidote just in time to save his life. However,” he kept explaining, seeing Johnny was about to interrupt him, “the poison had already taken its toll on the body. The next seventy-two hours will be crucial for his recovery.”
Johnny felt a pit in his stomach threatening to swallow him whole. “What happens if he doesn't wake up after three days?”
“We will keep on treating him and monitoring his vitals; no need to worry.” The doctor, Mr. Thompson, as his name tag read, responded calmly. “This period of time simply indicates how well the rest of the recuperation will go.”
Johnny had a sense that he wasn't telling him everything. Kenner had no next of kin to be present here; however, the fact that Johnny was his partner just wasn't enough for the hospital to divulge all the details of his condition.
“Can I see him?” He asked, despite already knowing the answer.
“I'm afraid that is not advisable at the moment, Mr. Murata,” was the predictable response he heard. “It would do you good to get some rest yourself. As I understand it, you have been through a great ordeal. We will contact the precinct as soon as there is any news.”
“Sure, thank you, doctor,” Johnny replied, his head still reeling from the fact that Kenner was in a coma. And there was a possibility he might not wake up if what he read between the lines rang true.
Not a small part of him wanted to stay right there, at least for the time being. But Johnny was occasionally prone to letting the rational voice in his mind take over and dictate his actions. And that voice was telling him that dropping half-dead on the hospital chair wouldn’t make Kenner wake up any faster.
So, after sitting there a bit longer, he reluctantly got up, squished the still very vocal sense of guilt churning inside him, and headed home. He figured he would probably crash as soon as his head hit the pillow, using the rare day off duty to his advantage, which meant he could squeeze in a very early morning visit to the hospital before the next shift.
His thoughts kept drifting toward Kenner, no matter how hard he tried to focus on anything else. He couldn't get past the fear of losing his partner. The hot anger he first felt when he realized Kenner used up all the antidote on him came back, unbidden. How could he have been so sacrificial again? Did he not value his own life? Johnny squeezed his eyes shut, but all he could see were the images of Kenner slumped in his seat, unconscious, or him being transported on a stretcher, his pulse faint and his face deadly pale. The sleep he longed for so much refused to claim him, partly due to the nap he had taken just before Mr. Thompson jostled him to break the news.
Johnny tossed and turned on the bed, exhausted both physically and mentally. His mind kept conjuring the worst-case scenarios non-stop, and he was forced to confront the painful possibility of some of them coming true. What would he do if Kenner never woke up? They had become close over time, bonded by the extreme situations they had found themselves in again and again in the course of their partnership. Johnny's own fiery temperament was evened out by Kenner's nonchalant, unflappable Zen warrior composure. As soon as they got over the initial confusion of the first altercation and some of the darkest pages of Kenner's past, they just clicked. Kenner huffed and rolled his eyes at Johnny's best jokes, yet Johnny knew he appreciated his quirky and at times weird sense of humor. Johnny flipped at his partner's recklessness and foolhardiness, yet he'd follow him to the grave if he had to.
Their relationship had everything it needed to thrive and work: trust, a sense of mutual understanding and companionship. And now Johnny might lose it all because of how stupidly selfless Kenner was being yet again. He gritted his teeth, accepting the fact that the guilt he felt simply manifested itself through typical anger and fury. Johnny would never forgive himself if Kenner died because of him. And that feeling of being helpless and powerless to stop it from happening drove him up the wall. He was not above admitting he desperately wanted Kenner to come back. At last, sleep graced him with its presence as his final thoughts steadily revolved around his partner.
***
The next morning Johnny felt slightly less sleep-deprived and murderous, for once having had time to throw a half-decent breakfast and not just chug a meager cup of coffee. He was both eager and anxious to learn if there had been any developments in Kenner's condition overnight, so he promptly headed toward the hospital.
“Ah, good morning, Mr. Murata,” Johnny heard as soon as he rounded the corner of one of the corridors. “You couldn't have come at a better time.” Mr. Thomas smiled at him.
“Morning, doc, is there any news?” Johnny perked up at that, worry and hope waging war inside him.
“Your partner came out of the coma about two hours ago,” the doctor told him in an unusually cheerful voice.
Johnny's face lit up as he sighed in relief. “Does that mean he's going to fully recover?” He decided to clarify right away.
“We are running all the necessary tests, and he will have to stay with us a little longer while we confirm everything is in order, but yes, I do believe he'll make a full and speedy recovery.” Mr. Thomas assured him.
Johnny smiled brightly. He wasn't losing Kenner, not this time anyway.
“If you swing by the lab to get your own test results, I think your partner will benefit from your visit afterward. Although please keep it brief; he still needs to rest.” The doctor urged him gently.
“Of course, Mr. Thompson, thank you.” Johnny shook his hand, eager to get his all-clear, finally see Kenner conscious, and hear his voice.
***
“Hey, champ,” Johnny popped his head into his partner's ward a handful of minutes later. “How are you feeling?”
Kenner was lying on a hospital bed, still unhealthily pale and uncharacteristically wan, but his bright blue eyes snapped in his direction.
“Like someone chewed me up and spat me out,” he groaned in response.
“That's the spirit,” Johnny chuckled lightly, inviting himself in and occupying the only available chair, positioning it next to the bed. “How much do you remember?”
Kenner frowned, thinking back over what happened. “We got kidnapped,” he started with certainty, “and woke up in that warehouse. You climbed through the vent and kicked the door open from the other side. After that, it's bits and pieces here and there, mostly hazy ones.”
Johnny nodded, glad to see he wasn't suffering from any memory loss.
“I can't believe I was out for almost a day,” Kenner said, shaking his head, wincing as his headache worsened.
“Believe it,” Johnny pursed his lips, still harboring a few colorful words to have with Kenner about his life choices, but putting them on the back burner while he was on the mend.
“The rumor mill at the station is working overtime,” he quipped, his face breaking into a smile. A huge weight had been lifted off him, after all. The lecturing could wait.
Kenner huffed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Just another Tuesday for us, right?”
“Speaking of Tuesdays, Nelson has put you on mandatory medical leave till you are one hundred percent again. So don't you dare show up there any time soon,” he added sternly, while also dreading the mundane monotony of work without his partner adding a healthy dose of dry humor and insanity to it.
“Do I look like someone who can leave this place any time soon?” Kenner shot back, raising his eyebrows.
“Yeah, well, I know you, so...” Johnny trailed off meaningfully. “The doctor said they want to keep you under observation for a bit longer,” he switched to the topic at hand. “We agreed he'd call me when you get discharged.”
“Wow, will you bring flowers, too?” Kenner deadpanned, back to his usual quirky self.
“You're an ass,” Johnny chided, shaking his head slightly. “I gotta go; the shift's starting soon. Don't do anything stupid,” he added for good measure, getting up from the chair.
“When have I ever,” Kenner replied innocently, his eyes shining with merriment.
“See you soon, champ,” Johnny promised, leaving the ward and making a detour to grab the results of his own tests. As expected, they came back clean, and he was good to go.
***
Predictably, the work sucked even more now that he knew what it was like to have a partner who was a real deal and actually had his back. Nelson had him running point on the investigation into the kidnapping. The search of the place where he and Kenner were brought to be eventually disposed of, unfortunately, yielded very few results, and he still had no real leads to go on from there. The paperwork on his and Kenner's desks now resembled two solid mountains, and Johnny longed for his partner's return for more than one reason.
Thankfully, he was fully out of the woods, and Johnny no longer had the worst-case scenarios running through his head non-stop. Between the routine questioning of potential witnesses and studying what meager clues they had to go on up until now, time flew quicker than anticipated, and soon enough he was entering the hospital again to take Kenner home on the day of his discharge.
“Morning, champ,” Johnny greeted Kenner cheerfully, a small bag of fruit in his hands. Of course, he wasn't going to bring him flowers, but coming empty-handed somehow felt wrong. And he knew for a fact Kenner was rubbish at keeping his fridge well-stocked, because Johnny was just the same.
“Morning,” Kenner responded in a raspy voice, looking healthier and more energized. “You couldn't help yourself, could you?” He gestured at a bag Johnny was holding.
“Don't look a gift bag in the mouth,” Johnny rephrased the saying jokingly. “I'm your ride for the day. Ready to rejoin the world of working class?”
“Can't wait,” Kenner deadpanned, grabbing a duffel with his meager belongings Johnny had brought him earlier and heading toward the exit.
“You haven't seen the towers of case files and folders in our office yet. That's where the real excitement is.” Johnny opened the door to let Chris out, then followed suit.
Kenner groaned. “Don't remind me. Speaking of the office, how's the case going? Got anything new I should know about?”
“Honestly, not really,” Johnny shrugged, walking side by side with Kenner. “You haven't missed much, if anything at all.”
“Good,” Kenner responded, pleased.
“Anyway, that's not your headache for now. You should focus on your recovery.” Johnny squeezed his shoulder affectionately, leaving the building and quietly hoping neither of them had to return there as a patient ever again.
“Yes, sir,” Kenner replied in mock compliance, getting into the passenger’s seat. “Did the Chief give you a few hours off to come and get me?”
“What?” Johnny asked, starting the car. “No, I took the day off, actually. So I'm all yours today,” he said without thinking, only then realizing how it sounded, and hurriedly added: “And we've got plenty of time to kill. What do you wanna do?”
“Didn't have anything planned,” Chris said uncertainly.
“A takeout and a movie marathon it is, then,” Johnny suggested confidently. “Got no excuse to deny me now.”
“Which torture of the American products you call culture are you gonna torment me with this time?” Kenner grumbled.
“Don't blame me for your complete lack of education, champ.” Johnny shook his head in disapproval. “I cannot in good conscience let it go on like this without doing something about it.”
“Alright-alright, I give up,” Kenner raised his arms in surrender. “You pick.”
“’Die Hard’ for the win.” Johnny jumped at an offer right away. “Let's grab some coffee first.”
Kenner just nodded in agreement.
***
Time flew by, and the next thing Johnny knew, Kenner was shaking his shoulder, stirring him awake.
“Rise and shine, Murata,” Kenner greeted him cheerfully. “I made you some tea.”
Johnny frowned at him groggily. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Uh-huh, right in the middle of the second part of what you call ‘a masterpiece of all time’,” Kenner air-quoted mockingly.
“Why didn't you wake me up?” Johnny rubbed at his eyes tiredly, not fully present yet for a witty comeback. “And what time is it?”
“Relax, we're not gonna be late,” Kenner reassured him, choosing to ignore the first question. “There's a spare toothbrush on a counter in the bathroom and some towels if you want to shower, too.”
“Thanks,” Johnny replied gratefully, moving to get up and just noticing a blanket he was covered with. Nice gesture, Johnny thought affectionately.
“Do you mind if we swing by my place before work?” He wondered. “I wanna change clothes.”
“I can find you something,” Kenner offered generously. “If you can be bothered to be seen in what I'd wear, of course. What was it you called my jacket? ‘A monstrosity’?” Kenner recalled mockingly.
“You truly have a horrifying sense of fashion, not gonna lie.” Johnny shook his head in disapproval. “But I wouldn't say no to a shirt if you got any.”
Right, because I'm such a neanderthal I don't own a shirt?” Kenner raised an eyebrow at him. “I'll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, man.” Johnny bumped his fist against Kenner's shoulder and popped into a bathroom for a quick shower.
Standing under rivulets of water, he suddenly thought about another scenario where he would be staying the night at his partner's place and needing a change of clothes. Johnny blushed profusely and turned the crank of cold water all the way up, freezing all the inappropriate thoughts right out of his system.
He promptly dried himself off as best as he could, deciding to simply wrap the towel around his hips and give his body a few extra minutes to air-dry.
“You gotta do something with that water pressure, champ,” Johnny offered his piece of mind, entering the kitchen and grabbing his mug of coffee.
“I appreciate your hospitality, by the way,” he smiled at Kenner. “In case it wasn't clear with all my whining,” Johnny smirked at him.
“Don't sweat it,” Kenner waved his hand in the air dismissively. “You let me crash at your place after the Yakuza burnt mine down. Besides, I already know that you can be an asshole, but you mean well.”
“Gee, thanks, champ.” Johnny narrowed his eyes at him.
“Anytime, partner, anytime,” Kenner deadpanned. “You can choose anything you like, though, fair warning: it isn't much,” Kenner said, gesturing in the direction of the bedroom. “Come on, wheels up in ten.”
“Thanks, I'll be quick,” Johnny gulped down the rest of his coffee, then proceeded to check what his options were.
Chris was, objectively, a lot bulkier than Johnny himself, so all his clothes would definitely look huge on him. Johnny chose the least offensive shirt he could find, then returned to the bathroom and got changed. Luckily, he usually tucked the shirts he wore into jeans, so that way it didn't look half bad on him.
“You clean up nice,” Kenner commented casually, turning around to grab the car keys, and Johnny's cheeks tinted red as he once again thought of wearing Kenner's shirt under different circumstances.
“Come on, let's go,” Kenner urged Johnny, oblivious to his inner turmoil.
***
The precinct greeted Kenner with an approving hum of voices and an occasional friendly pat on the back from every other cop in the vicinity. Nelson called Kenner in his office shortly after their arrival, no doubt, to read a lecture in a stern tone as well as commend his swift return to duties. By the time Johnny had given Kenner a brief rundown of the very few things he actually missed on the progress of their case, it felt as if nothing had happened.
However, when they went out in the field again, fishing for scraps of information for the case, things started to get weird.
“Watch out!” Johnny yelled as he saw a tremendously drunk, burly-looking man draw a knife and try to take a swing at Kenner from behind him.
“Easy, Johnny, I've got it, don't worry,” Kenner replied nonchalantly, sidestepping the clumsy attack and using the man's weight against him as he knocked the knife out of his hand and pinned him to the ground, snatching his wrists into a pair of handcuffs.
Johnny nodded at him in acknowledgement, slightly bewildered at his own exaggerated reaction. Kenner could take guys like that out in his sleep. Why was he so anxious all of a sudden?
“Come on, buddy, let's go; you've had enough fun for tonight,” Kenner said amicably, pulling the perp to his feet.
“You okay?” Kenner asked him later in the car, after the wasted man was taken care of. “You seemed a bit on edge earlier.”
“Yeah, I'm fine,” Johnny replied with fake confidence. “It's been a rough one, you know?”
“Uh-huh, you could say that. I'm ready to call it a day,” Kenner yawned tiredly, pausing at a red light.
“You and me both, champ,” Johnny agreed wholeheartedly.
The ride home was uneventfully mundane, and before long, Kenner pulled up in front of Johnny's place.
“Wanna come inside?” Johnny offered habitually, knowing full well Kenner would refuse yet again. “I have beer.”
“Nah, I'm good, thanks,” Kenner replied as expected. “See you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Kenner,” Johnny saluted him, got out of the car, and headed home.
Later in the night, he couldn't stop thinking about how he had overreacted earlier. Kenner was more than capable of handling himself. The problem was that they still hadn't talked about his idiotic self-sacrificial act with the antidote. And now every time his partner brushed off danger in a typical, stoic manner of his, Johnny got worked up really fast. He needed to get everything off his chest before he exploded. With that resolution in mind, Johnny finally succumbed to sleep.
***
Over the next couple of days, something felt off between them. The usual playful banter and jokes were still present, but there was an almost imperceptible tension now, too, lurking just beneath the surface. Of course, sooner or later, things were bound to come to a head.
“We have got to stop getting ourselves into these situations,” Johnny lamented in annoyance, ducking behind a nearby dumpster.
“You think?” Kenner shouted in response mockingly, already taking cover behind a car.
“The assholes are very persistent, gotta give them that,” Johnny continued, dodging the bullets flying in his direction and firing in return.
“I'll try to get closer,” Kenner said, lowering his voice. “Watch my six,” he asked, getting ready to move out.
“Kenner, wait!” Johnny urged him, concern lacing his tone. “I'm gonna go this time.”
“Too late, partner,” Kenner smirked at him, then slowly rose from his crouching position, making sure not to raise his head too high.
“Dammit, Kenner,” Johnny swore under his breath, peeking out from his hiding spot to get a better vantage point.
Kenner signaled the countdown to him, then dashed forward like a madman, and Johnny got to work.
A quick and brutal exchange of bullets later, Kenner, luckily, made it to the opposite side unscathed and was scanning the territory for any remaining evidence or clues. The shooter didn't make it, and Johnny wanted to howl at the moon at how reckless his partner was time and again.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Johnny rounded on Kenner, not even trying to rein in his anger.
“I was thinking that I didn't want to end up pinned down again under heavy fire,” Kenner replied in a simple and calm manner, which, somehow, added to the pit of frustration in Johnny's stomach.
“You just can't help it, can you?” Johnny huffed unhappily. “Risking your life so foolishly over and over, and leaving me behind to deal with everything else.”
“Leaving you behind?” Kenner asked, surprised. “I'm right here, looking for leads or anything that can get us out of this mess. That's what you wanted, no?” He asked, quirking his eyebrow at Johnny.
“Not if you went ahead and died in the process,” Johnny exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “Honestly, at this point it's like you're asking for it.”
The argument got so intense that neither of them paid attention to a shadowy figure slipping from around the corner and cautiously making its way out of the place until it was too late.
“Stop right there!” Kenner shouted, noticing a movement out of the corner of his eye and giving chase to no avail.
Johnny rushed after them, coming to a halt in a completely deserted alley, no fugitive in sight.
“That was our only lead,” Kenner commented, defeated, turning to look at Johnny. “And while you and I were having this ridiculous argument, he got away.”
“So what, you're saying it's my fault?” Johnny bristled.
“I'm saying that I don't need a babysitter, Murata,” Kenner replied curtly.
Johnny opened his mouth to retort, but Kenner didn't give him a chance: “You take the car. I need to clear my head.”
And with that, he turned around and walked away, leaving Johnny rooted in place. What just happened?
***
“What the hell is this, huh?” Johnny asked, barging into Kenner's apartment early the next day, on a Saturday morning no less, and brandishing a piece of paper in his hand. He then proceeded to unceremoniously throw it right in Kenner's face.
“Why did Nelson call me in his office to tell me that you had requested a different partner?” Fury was blazing in his eyes, and Kenner's silence only served to add fuel to the fire.
“What, suddenly I'm not good enough for you? Answer me, goddammit!” Johnny poked Chris in his chest, and Kenner didn't even try to swat his hands away from himself, letting him vent however he pleased.
“Are you done?” Kenner asked after a few moments, looking so unfazed that Johnny got an impulsive urge to do something incredibly stupid just to get him to react.
“I don't know, am I?” Johnny threw up his hands in anger. “Because you are most definitely done with me.”
Kenner sighed tiredly. “Look, I've tried all the other ways I could think of. I just can't half-ass my duties, okay? That's not who I am.”
“Clearly,” Johnny shot back bitterly. “You just have to be a fucking hero all the time. The concept of taking it easy for a while doesn't seem to exist to you.”
“Crime doesn't take it easy, Johnny,” Kenner countered, deadpan, and Johnny just stared at him.
“You did not just say that to me,” Johnny bristled, looking at him in disbelief. “For fuck's sake, Kenner, you were in a coma. You could have died!”
“But I didn't,” Chris countered simply. “And here's the thing, Johnny. I still can die. It could happen today or in forty years, who knows. But I need to be able to do my job as a cop. And if you can't trust me enough to do that-“
“Trust is not the problem!” Johnny sighed, frustrated.
“Then what's the problem, Johnny?” Kenner asked plainly. “Tell me, because I don't understand.”
“The problem is that you put my life above yours,” Johnny spelled out the obvious truth, even more aggravated by how oblivious Kenner remained about what he had done and why it bothered Johnny so much.
Kenner rolled his eyes and scoffed, which only served to infuriate Johnny further. He paced back and forth in a futile attempt to calm himself down. Kenner was playing him like a fiddle and hitting all the right buttons.
“Is that funny to you?” He slammed his fist against the wall, unable to contain his anger any longer. “You had the antidote! All you had to do was split it and inject both of us. That way it wouldn't have been lethal.”
Johnny turned around and narrowed his eyes at Kenner's passive expression. “But no,” he raised his hands in the air in indignation, “you had to go and play hero again!”
Kenner crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. Good. He was displeased; well, so was Johnny.
“Did you stop for a moment to think about what I would feel if the doctors told me you died? Because of me?” Johnny’s voice was getting to a pathetically high cadence, but he couldn't do anything about that. The whirlwind of emotions inside him threatened to take control completely. He wanted to scream at the bastard or hit him in the face once or twice to get him to understand how carelessly he behaved time and time again.
“You're my partner, Chris.” Johnny shook his head dejectedly. “At least you were till today.”
“Yeah, well, you are my partner too,” Kenner's voice dropped, notes of steel cutting through the air like a katana. “Ever think of that? One of us had to make it out of there alive. And if I gave you half the dose like you suggested, chances were we'd both drop dead. I wasn't gonna let that happen.”
Johnny was about to launch into another tirade when Kenner interrupted him: “And no, I don't regret my decision. If I could do it all again, I wouldn't change a God damn thing.”
He looked him dead in the eye. “Clearly, you cannot handle that, so...”
Kenner drifted off, and this time Johnny butted in: “So what, you thought ditching me would be the next logical step?”
Kenner shrugged, and Johnny's anger returned, twice as strong. He marched toward his partner, forcing him to retreat till his back was pressed against the wall.
“What are you gonna do, Murata, punch me in the face?” He regarded Johnny with that serious, steady look of his, which made it impossible to decipher what he felt.
“I'm thinking about it,” Johnny retorted. It wasn’t like he planned it all the way through.
“And if I let you, will you drop all this?” The smug bastard had the audacity to smirk.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You want me to take you out?” This whole situation was getting more and more out of control, but Johnny couldn't back down - not like this; only up the stakes and rush forward till they both crashed and burned.
“You can try,” Chris offered, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “If that's what you need to move past it all. “
Johnny groaned in frustration. No, that wasn't what he needed. But what he did need wasn't on the table. Nor would it ever be. Fuck it. Their relationship was almost ruined by this anyway, right? He might as well seal the deal.
“You wanna know what I need, huh? Watch me.” He surged forward, grabbing the straps of Kenner's ridiculously tight tank top and kissed him square on the mouth. It would be ironic if he ended up the one being punched in the face after all. He tasted exactly like Johnny imagined before (and in the privacy of his mind he could admit that that happened quite regularly): mint and something musky, but unmistakably Chris. He felt good. His warm and solid, bulky frame under his hands, the unfairly sexy cologne he wore, and more importantly, his slightly chapped full lips against his own, kissing him back. Johnny lost himself in the sensation of it all, of being pressed tight against his body, Kenner's arms wrapped around him, his mouth eager to reciprocate, firm but gentle in its caress, just like Kenner in all his nature. He felt dizzy, and not just from the urge to pull away and breathe, disoriented and off-kilter.
As they finally broke apart, both in desperate need of air, Johnny stared at his partner in wonder, dazed and confused. All the fight had left him, replaced by endless possibilities and questions.
“I didn't quite catch that.” Kenner couldn't be bothered to even try hiding a shit-eating grin on his face. “Care to repeat?”
Johnny just blinked at him, his usual quick and quirky comeback not rolling off his tongue. “What are you doing?” He finally managed to find his voice.
“You kissed me first, remember?” Kenner raised an eyebrow suggestively.
“Yeah, but you were supposed to punch me in the face or something, not actually reciprocate,” Johnny said, perplexed.
“Well, I tried that before; it didn't quite work,” Kenner shrugged easily.
Johnny huffed, the scene of their first confrontation springing vividly to his mind.
“So you admit you were too slow to hit me?” Johnny perked up at that, smirking.
Kenner shook his head, looking at him fondly. “The only thing I'll admit is that you're still the same smug asshole I met all those months ago.”
Johnny felt his cheeks color slightly at the genuine affection in his voice. “Seriously, though-“
“Seriously, Johnny,” Kenner interrupted him. “I like you. Not ‘despite myself’,” he air-quoted, surprising Johnny with how accurately he remembered what Johnny told him in the heat of the moment on their first mission together. “I just do.”
“Well, I like you, too,” Johnny returned the confession. “Even with all your tough samurai warrior bullshit,” he gestured at Kenner vaguely.
Kenner grinned at him openly, then swiftly switched their places, pressing Johnny against the wall and effortlessly lifting him off the ground, making him wind his legs around Kenner's waist and his arms around his neck for balance.
“How else would I have impressed you with my smooth moves?” Kenner said suggestively, then leaned forward to capture Johnny’s lips again, effectively muting all the protests Johnny was surely about to voice.