DISCLAIMER; Don't own, don't sue. Simple as that.

A/N: This is my first try at TFATF fandom, and I'm not entirely sure if I'm happy with it or not. But either way, I'm bored and it's something to do. Constructive criticism is welcomed.

A dull ache woke him up, a hot heat pushing up through the skin of his side.

The first thing he heard was a quiet beeping and a soft lulling noise that sounded suspiciously like rain on a window pane. It was entirely too quiet. No muffled voices, no loud music... Only quiet. Just the soft patter of rain outside on the window, followed seconds later by the muted rumble of thunder.

Vince shifted slightly, the heavy weight of blankets confusing him for a second. Where am I? Why can't I move? His brain screamed at him. He moved to sit up, a sense of frustration sweeping over him when he found he lacked the strength to do so.

Blue eyes flickered open, blinded by the starkness of the room around him. White. Everything was white. Even the blankets that weighed so heavily on his body were a stark, blinding white. It only took him a moment to realise that he was curled on his side, his right arm propped on a pillow, palm up, in front of him while his left was tucked underneath his chin. He blinked slowly, the languid, heaviness in his limbs subsiding slightly as consciousness slowly came back to him.

Hospital. I'm in a hospital. Fuck.. I feel sick, he thought to himself; eyes squeezing shut against the pain that was beginning to flare up his arm.

It started at the heel of his palm, spiralling upward along his forearm, over his elbow and clear all the way to his shoulder, then seemed to retrace it's initial path and start all over again.

Taking a deep breath, Vince clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut even tighter against the pain, praying to any God that would listen to make it stop. Instead, when his fingers gave an involuntary twitch, it intensified.

Too weak to roll over, he instead curled tighter forward and dipped his head lower, pushing it into the soft pillows with a whimper as the stiches on his side gave an indignant tug. He gave a soft yelp of pain, burrowing as deep into the softness of the bedding as he could without jolting his arm further.

"Oh god, oh Jesus," Vince gasped deeply, ears barely registering the hurried thud of approaching footsteps. He gave a short, breathless growl. "Fuuuck."

Within seconds he could feel hands on his shoulder, rolling him just enough to let the light seep down into the cocoon of blankets and pillows he had burrowed into. Immediately, he let out another guttural curse and thrashed away from the invasive hands.

"GET OFF ME!" He screamed. He then let out a loud howl of pain as his arm jerked against the railing at the side of the bed and he felt a wet, burning tear underneath the bandages on his side.

"Sir! Sir, you're going to have to take a deep breath and calm down! SIR! YOU'RE GOING TO DO YOURSELF HARM!" A younger nurse shouted at him when he continued to struggle. More hands now. One set pinning his legs against the bed, another gripping his wounded arm and yet another holding his shoulder down.


By now his throat was dry and stinging from screaming and the sudden hit of adrenalin was making his head spin. Combine the head spin, sore throat and the pain from his arm and side and he was in agony.

A warm hand brushed over his head, soothing him just enough for the nurse to get a grip of his left hand and inject a dose of morphine into his cannular.

Vince moaned into his pillow, muscles turning to liquid as the drug started to take affect. The grip on his legs, arm and shoulder relented and now only one set of hands remained. The ones stroking his head gently, like a mother would a small child.

"My stitches," he mumbled sluggishly, "I think I tore my stitches."

The blanket lifted off his side and the cool air hit his bare skin instantly. Unable to control himself in his weakened state, he began to shiver, a groan escaping his lips.

"It's alright honey, I know it's cold but I'll be as quick as possible." A quiet, matronly looking nurse smiled gently at him, then went back to his gunshot wound. A few minutes passed then the blanket was replaced and another spread out over the top.

"There you go," she glanced at his chart, "Vincent. A good strong name for a strong man. It suits you, dear."

He blinked at her, the lump in his throat getting bigger and bigger until tears started to leak from his eyes. Vince swallowed thickly as he watched the older woman fussing over him like his mother used to, having a difficult time getting a reign on his emotions. Feeling foolish, he turned his face away and started to lift his good hand up to wipe away the moisture, only now noticing the I.V. and the tubes in his nose. Long, callused fingers tried to tug at the tubes, but he was still too weak and his frustration only served to make the tears fall faster.

After five minutes of fidgeting, he gave up and looked at the silently working nurse. He wished he could swear and abuse the older woman, but for some reason, he was unable to. He could not abuse the only person willing to help him get situated comfortably and who was now preparing a follow up shot. One that would help him off to sleep.

After she injected it into his I.V., she gave him a motherly smile, wiped his face with a tissue and asked, "Can I get you anything?"

Vince sighed quietly, nuzzling down into the warmth of the blankets, his mind going slightly hazy.

"I want Mia. She," he was cut off by a huge yawn ", she said she would come for me."

The nurse gave him a bemused, sorrowful look. "I'm sorry sweetheart, but there's nobody out there."

He blinked back a fresh set of tears, staring sadly at the gentle old woman. "…Nobody?" At her response, he screwed his eyes shut. "…I want Mia."

"How about you go to sleep and while you're out, I'll see if I can hunt her down?"

With all the remaining energy he had, Vince opened his eyes and fixed her with a solemn, broken smile.

"It doesn't matter… She never loved me anyway."