Chapter Text
Remus spends almost three weeks in the hospital, asleep most of the time. He wakes for the first time on the fourth day, recognising the familiar space, blinking to find that the vision in his right eye never fully clears, but he’s able to see Sirius slouched in the chair beside his bed. And he’s able to see Teddy curled against him, sleeping on Sirius’s chest with his thumb in his mouth.
He finds left arm suspended above his bed, enclosed in some sort of complicated setup that makes it clear he’s not to move it. His right arm is in a sling pulled tight to his middle. He can’t feel much of anything beneath his waist, his legs covered with a thin blanket. There’s a tube under his nose to supply him with more oxygen.
Despite the fact that he’d been out for days, he’s fucking exhausted. His entire body feels like he’s trapped under a mountain, his lungs working to push against it. His eyelids weigh a ton.
“You’re up.”
Remus looks at Sirius, who’s sitting up now, cradling a still-sleeping Teddy with a hand on his head. He stands a little and drags his chair impossibly closer, close enough to touch, and he sits on the edge of it. His face is concerned. Hair unbrushed, eyes shadowed with dark bags.
“Are you okay?”
Remus’s voice is unused and rough, his mouth is dry, but manages, “Been better.”
That gets a brief, quiet laugh from Sirius, which is nice, and he reaches his Teddy-less hand towards Remus’s face. He hesitates.
Remus gives permission, desperate to feel Sirius touch him. “Please.”
Sirius relaxes, and his hand comes down into Remus’s hair, digging his fingers in the curls, his thumb stroking back and forth. His arm is bent at an awkward angle with the reclined bed, but it’s the best they can do right now.
“I was scared,” Sirius confesses, whispering.
Remus presses his lips together and lets his eyes close while Sirius gently runs his fingers through the tangles. “Me too.”
“Do you remember?”
Echoes of screaming and bones snapping fill Remus’s ears, so convincing that he forces himself to open his eyes again. Reminds himself where he is. “Yeah,” he answers. “I remember.”
“God, that’s— Remus, I’m so sorry.”
Remus draws his eyebrows together, frowning to the best of his ability. “For what?”
“I… I don’t know,” Sirius says, his voice shaking. “It just— the whole thing was so horrible, you were so— so close to… I wish I would’ve stepped in sooner—”
“Stop, Sirius,” Remus says. “I’m okay.”
“But you’re not.” Sirius’s voice breaks. “You’re— you’re here, they said you—”
“I’m alive,” Remus interrupts. “I’m okay. Teddy’s okay, you’re okay.”
Sirius has to take a second before he can respond, and he fidgets with Remus’s hair. Remus can tell his fingers are trembling. “Um.” He licks his lips. “Your, uh, your bone in your arm was broken, completely snapped, so they said they had to put a metal rod or something through your arm. It’ll take a while to heal.”
Remus gives a small nod. “Okay.”
“Your other shoulder was dislocated, but they popped it back in place, you’ve just gotta wear that sling for a bit, and…” Sirius trails off, looking away from Remus.
“What else?” Remus prompts. He just needs to know.
“Well… a concussion,” Sirius adds. “Bad one. That’s why it’s dark in here. You’ll have to… wear sunglasses indoors and stay away from loud noises…”
Remus hums softly. He figures they’ll learn more about his impaired vision now that his eyes are open. “What about my legs, Sirius?” he asks. He knows this is the subject Sirius is dancing around.
Sirius finally looks back at him, his expression sympathetic. “Not good.”
“Can I…” Remus swallows. “Can I walk?”
“They said— they said you might be able to after physical therapy—a lot of physical therapy—but probably never without a crutch or a cane. You’ll have to use a wheelchair until then, and… with your arms, you can’t really…”
Remus closes his eyes for a moment to process, but it’s hard. His mind is foggy. He can’t quite grasp everything Sirius is saying, but he reiterates, “It’s okay,” because he knows that’s what Sirius needs to hear.
“Jesus. Fuck, Remus.” Sirius scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This isn’t— you shouldn’t—” He takes an unsteady breath.
“I’ll get through it,” Remus promises. The part to focus on is that he’s alive. Teddy still has his dad.
Sirius slumps back in his chair, unfortunately taking his hand with him, holding Teddy with both now. He pulls him closer on instinct, putting his lips to his hair, and Remus feels the sudden urge to cry because he doesn’t know when’s the next time he’ll be able to do that.
But it’s okay.
It will be okay, at least.
“Are you okay?” Remus asks. “Did they look at you?”
Sirius lets out a dry laugh, still being quiet. “Yeah,” he says. “I have a sprained ankle and, get this, a cracked rib.”
“A cracked…? From the…?”
“From falling off the swing, yeah,” Sirius answers bitterly.
Sirius feels guilty, clearly, at the fact that he scraped by with such minor injuries, but Remus laughs. It’s quiet, slightly wheezy, and it hurts, but it feels good at the same time. It lessens the gravity of the mountain on his chest.
Sirius looks at him, some of the acidity fading from his face. He narrows his eyes at him. “Are you laughing at me?”
Remus mimics a shrug without moving either shoulder. “A little.”
“Mean.”
Remus drops his head back to the side to look at Sirius, giving him a tired smile. “I’m glad you’re okay. Really.”
Sirius shakes his head to reject that. He pins Teddy to his chest and rises from the chair, leaning over the bed so that his face is close to Remus’s. His hand goes back to his hair, his fingers weaving through it.
“Hi,” Remus says, attempting light-heartedness.
Sirius doesn’t fall for it. His face stays serious. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.
“Sirius—”
Sirius doesn’t let him interrupt. “Just let me be here for you, okay? For you and Teddy. Let me help you get through this— let James and Lily, too. You don’t have to do it yourself.”
Remus searches his eyes, finding want more than guilt, which makes him feel less pathetic. “You don’t have to do that.”
Sirius looks back at him. “Will you let me?”
Remus takes a breath—shallow, like most of them have been—and then nods slowly. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I… I’d like you to be here.” He wants to see Sirius, to keep seeing him, if he’s being honest. Whatever that entails.
Sirius’s shoulders relax. “Thank you.” He pushes his fingers through Remus’s hair again, hesitates, then reaches to lightly kiss his forehead. With his lips on Remus’s skin, he repeats it, “Thank you.”
*
*
A few weeks later finds Remus on the Potters’ front porch, eyes closed with sunlight washing over his face. It’s deceiving, the sunlight, because the November air has a chilly bite to it. But Remus is dressed warmly. He has a knitted hat, courtesy of Mrs. Potter, and thick woolen mittens.
Sirius is lounging on the porch swing behind him, laying across it, though the swing is still. He has an open book on his chest, one he had just been reading aloud to Remus, but had put it down to enjoy the rare break in the grey clouds.
Remus has been staying here, with the Potters, in their guest bedroom. Sirius stays in the second one down the hall (though not very often). Teddy sleeps in Harry’s room whether Harry’s visiting or not— he’s usually visiting lately, as are James and Lily. They’ve all spent more time together than apart since Remus was released from the hospital.
He’s in his wheelchair now, walking is out of the question for a while, and one arm is still in a cast, the other recently freed from the sling. He’s just started standing again in his physical therapy sessions, testing weight on his knees, but it’s far more difficult than he ever thought possible. They swear to him that he’s making great progress. Some days he believes them, other days it takes everything in him to not curse them out.
The vision is his right eye never fully returned, and they said it probably wouldn’t, but Remus is still able to watch Teddy and Harry play fetch with the dog in the front yard so it’s okay. Teddy squeals when Sadie jumps to catch the ball before it hits the ground. Remus can see his happy smile from here, his little nose pink with the cold.
He keeps coming up onto the porch and running excitedly to Remus, usually clenching a rock from the driveway in his fist. “Da, look at this one,” he says. Most of them are smooth and brown.
“That’s a real nice one.”
“You can keep it,” Teddy says, beaming up at him. He adds it to the growing pile in Remus’s lap. Or to the one in Sirius’s.
“Thanks, Ted.”
“Welcome, Da.” Then he clumsily climbs back down the steps to rejoin Harry and Sadie, his laughter carrying throughout the yard.
Remus inhales deeply, taking in the crisp, fresh air. They’re on the cusp of winter, there’s flurries beginning to fall from the sky, but he hasn’t felt this warm in a long time. Distantly, he can hear James and Lily inside, laughing and singing while they make dinner for everyone. Whatever it is involves sauteing onions, Remus can smell it. His stomach rumbles quietly in anticipation.
Sirius’s hand falls onto Remus’s shoulder. He squeezes gently, then slides it over to his neck and does the same. He always manages to find the knot in Remus’s muscles, rubbing his thumb into it in a lovely, lovely way. “You okay?” he asks.
Remus hums in response. “Mhm.”
Sirius sits up on the swing, making it sway slightly into Remus’s chair, and he leans kiss the side of Remus’s head. Then his ear, then his neck, then his jaw. “You need anything?”
“No.” Remus turns his head so he can meet Sirius’s lips with his own, soft and affectionate. “I have it all.”
Sirius wrinkles his nose. “Cheesy.”
Remus smiles against his mouth, then kisses him again. “Yes,” he murmurs, “but it’s true.”