Darling tapped once.

“Okay. Once if it’s severe. Two if you can live with it.”

It was severe, but Darling didn’t want to be incoherent so he tapped twice.

Syn scoffed at him. “Yeah, your blood pressure’s calling you a liar. That being said, I’m assuming you want to stay awake for a bit. So I’m not going to give you anything unless your blood pressure worsens.” Syn removed his hand. “Since you’re awake, I want to remove your breathing tube so that you can talk. I’m going to send Zarya out while I do it. Is that all right?”

Darling used League sign language to agree.

She sandwiched his hand between hers before she released it. “I won’t be gone long.”

As soon as she cleared the room, Syn numbed Darling’s throat so that he could slide the tube out. Darling tried not to gag, but it was hard.

And it was a fight he ultimately lost.

“Here.” Syn turned him to his side fast and held him there until his stomach settled down. “It’s all right. Don’t worry about the mess. Just breathe easy, little brother.”

Darling laid his head down, grateful he couldn’t see. “I don’t know how you do what you do. How many years did you go to med school to learn how to clean out bedpans, anyway?”

“Ha, ha. Instead of being a smart-ass, you should be kissing mine. Anyone else would have left you to code.”

“No offense, Syn, but right now, I’m wishing you had.” Darling rolled over slowly until he was on his back again. “How bad was it this time?”

“You don’t really want to know. Suffice it to say, if this doesn’t take, there won’t be another attempt. I’m not ever putting you under again. You can find yourself a new doctor who doesn’t care if you live or die.”

That news kicked him hard. He could tell by the brutal pain in his chest that felt like someone had stomped the crap out of him that he’d died on the table.

More than once.

“Seriously. How many times did you resuscitate me?”

“Enough that I’m glad I don’t pay the power bill here.”

Darling rubbed at the area over his heart that hurt the most. “Remind me to sign a DNR next time.”

“Like I’d pay attention to that? Yeah. You go right on and waste your time.” Syn ran his hands over Darling’s body, examining his abdomen.

A new feeling of dread consumed him. “What did you do there?”

“I attempted to repair some of your internals so that you might be able to go to the bathroom without trauma.”

That would be better than fixing his face.

Almost.

“Did it work?” Darling asked.

“We’ll know when we get some solid food back in you.”

“Oh goody. Can’t wait for that.”

Syn snorted. “You better be glad you’re already busted up. Otherwise I’d make you pay for all this sarcasm you’re spewing.”

Yeah, right. Syn was a top graduate from the School of Sarcasm himself. Not to mention the small fact that he knew his friend would sooner cut his own throat than hurt him.