What's this? It's a chapter story? The response was more than I thought it would be. Who knew a cancelled show and a non-canon ship were still popular? I'm not a doctor. I just play one on TV(not really). Apologies for any mistakes.

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Don was built to be strong mentally. Physically, he was weak. He could barely feed himself. The doctors were worried that he wouldn't be able to move, because of the blow to his head. He was setting out to prove them wrong. So far he was succeeding, but they still wouldn't let Sacks bring him a beer – not even if it had a straw.

Waking up out of a coma didn't mean he couldn't throw himself the biggest pity party there ever was. He didn't get to leave his bed. The hospital staff didn't think it was a swell idea for him to even try. He couldn't even remember certain stuff about himself and it was the strangest shit that concerned him. It was stuff like how long he had a small freckle on the back of his hand. It caused a serious panic inside him. Why did he sweat it so bad?

Don was losing more of his mind like he had spare brains to give. He was seriously beginning to question the quality of work brought into the sickness factory.

Sacks was there nearly every day. He was his first emergency contact and his right hand man. They called him a day after he woke up to stay conscious. He was quick to his side and ready to fill him in on Neptune's latest.

He told him all about a new bust. It was really something he shouldn't have done, but it was Sacks. He wasn't a dumbass like Deputy D'Amato and everyone loved him so they'd cut him a break if they knew he was gossiping.

He was going on about an ex-teacher from Neptune High who was turning tricks near Dog Beach. His hands were used as a dramatic exclamation to the animated tone he used.

That mustache had to tickle his lip, right?

"You should have seen her face when we arrested her, Sheriff, er, Don. She was higher than a kite from the cocaine she had stuffed in her bra." He was cackling.

He didn't want to know. It sounded disgusting. He didn't object the man's rattling, because he couldn't trust his voice to give the flare it used to. Especially not when sitting up in a hospital bed connected to Triton only knows what. Damn, he was pathetic.

"The Sheriff is winning all the hands, Sh-uh-Don. He's cracking down on Neptune! We've never been so busy. That's why I couldn't see ya yesterday." Sacks' face fell and looked down at his twirling thumbs.

"Sacks, don't be such a baby. Wait, Sheriff? Who, um…" He couldn't think of the word.

"Who replaced you," Sacks asked meekly.

Carefully, Don nodded his head.

"Keith Mars."

"I swore he came to see me when I first landed myself here. Guess he's too busy doing my job to even bother now, right?"

"Actually…" Sacks trailed off, not sure if he should continue explaining Keith's position.

Don set him a look. From the expression he received, maybe he still had the chops.

"He kind of thinks you're dead."

"What?"

"He kind of thinks you're dead," he repeated.

Don rolled his bloodshot blues.

"Oh, right! When I try to correct him or tell him you're alive and well-" He coughed. "Something always comes up."

He obviously wasn't trying hard enough. Don tells him so, inevitably hurting Sacks' feelings. He couldn't be bothered with it, for he had one very important question to ask.

"And Veronica?"

"What about her?"

"Does she think-" He gulped down whatever saliva was left in his sudden desert-dry mouth. "You know?"

All Sacks offered was a shrug. With expert timing, he was then called into the station.

Don could hear his former and successor on the deputy's phone. Sacks was about to answer his question about what he was up to when Keith apologized and quickly told him he was needed at the station. The obedient man responded in all the right ways and hung up the phone.

Sacks smiled regretfully. "I'll try to see you tomorrow, Don."

He waved him off and watched him leave. When he was a good distance down the hallway, Don released a long sigh.

Veronica couldn't possibly think he was dead. She was too smart of that, not that he would admit that out loud again.

He liked to think both of the Mars would have gone to his funeral, crying over his dead cold body. He wanted them to wish their relationships with each other would be different. They'd explain their empathy to his tombstone as people do. He used to think it was the only way for them to do damage control.

Death brought people together. Why were they so far apart?

He sighed with frustration.

This was going to be harder than he planned.

vmars|vmars|vmars

I apologize for the shawty of a chapter. Hehe.