a/n: this was actually an idea i initially intended to put in Hamartia before i had cut it down to what it is. whoever you are, anon, don't apologise for wanting that because…

Twelve wakes up staring at a light too white to be real.

He muses at the thought that maybe he's dead, but then Nine will get mad and who'd want a mad Nine left on his own? Twelve tries to sit up only to feel a sharp stab to his side. He hisses, falling back down on a mattress stiffer than the couch at home.

The smell of anaesthetics bang in his nose and he now knows exactly where he is. Faint voices trickle in from his left, somewhere behind the curtains surrounding him. Little specks of blue and green that make him smile because the white lights and ceiling remind him too much of the institute. A few seconds of listening in and he finally notices small flashes of red beeping beside him—a heart monitor. His own breath tickles his face in warmth, and it takes a minute to realise he also has an oxygen mask on.

Were his injuries that bad for Nine to risk taking him to a hospital? Surely Nine has some plan to get them out of here. Given the blood bag hanging beside him and the needle stuck in his arm, it may take a few days minimum. But he knows it won't take long for the FBI to locate them assuming he's in the nearest facility to where the bomb exploded—

"Lisa." Comes out as a weak mumble. Maybe he should apologise for not warning her about the danger ahead of time; who knows how bad the poor girl's feeling. But then again, she's leapt out of buildings and airplanes and they both suffered worse scratches than this. Twelve chuckles because what if she'll want to buy a lot of bandages once they get out of here? He prays her first aid skills aren't as bad as her cooking and adds that to the list of things he should teach her.

He hears a door open followed by a nurse's orange voice. Specks of blue return to the air and his muscles relax when he sees Nine open the curtains around his bed.

"How you feeling?"

Twelve coughs— "You're not mad at me, right?" —but manages to laugh easier than before.

Nine scoffs. "You just had a surgery done. I'll let it go for now."

"That bad, huh…?"

But the smile stays. Some water would be nice right about now though; feels like he swallowed a sponge still stuck in his throat.

"Hey Nine?" Twelve's voice croaks. "Where's Lisa?"

Nine flinches, and Twelve watches his voice darken to a murky blue. "Get some rest, Twelve," he says in a monotone. "You can see her later. We're heading out as soon as you can stand."

Nine turns around ready to walk away, but Twelve grabs his shirt. "Wait…" His breath hitches. "At least tell me which room she's in."

But the room stays white, almost complete silence. No hints of Nine's blue voice, no voices from the door—not even the red beeps for the heart monitor are enough to drown out the white.

Nine doesn't even spare a look at him for the next few minutes. Twelve expects as much, but usually he'd be able to walk over and face him from the other side.

"Shibazaki," Nine pauses for a breath, "told me what happened, but I want to hear it from you, Twelve."

If there's one thing he knows best, it's how well Nine's sharp tone constricts around your throat, and Twelve braces for impact.

"What happened?"

He sighs. "The escape bomb blew up too early."

"Lisa."

Twelve starts laughing—nods, but still laughs even though he knows how much Nine hates hearing it. He didn't even bother making it sound like a question. So unfair, so unfair.

This time, Nine turns around to face Twelve, adding that signature glare behind his glasses. "You were lucky," he says, silencing him, making sure the last word stabs deeper into his skin than the shrapnel that dug at his side earlier—the doctors probably have a nice collection of bomb parts by now from both Twelve and Lisa combined. "Had you not been in front of Lisa—"

"Where is she, Nine?"

Nine stops. The bright burst of blue in his voice wavers and Twelve spots Nine's clenched fist at his side.

Nine takes in another breath. "You were lucky."

Twelve loosens his grip on Nine's shirt, feeling his heart speed, his palms sweat, his lips tremble. What happened after I passed out? His mouth opens, but his throat clogs up.

Geez, Lisa. To think he's picked up her habits already. Maybe I do spend too much time around you.

But Nine knows him well enough to read his thoughts—or so Twelve likes to think. "As soon as we got you both here, the doctors had to operate on you immediately. An organ transplant, Twelve. How careless can you be?

"You were lucky…" Nine says again, only this time his blue voice shone too dimly, too quietly, "…the two of you were compatible."

"Compatible? What are you taking about—"

But then Nine points to his stomach, and Twelve swallows as he stares down at his body. He pulls his hospital gown up past his knees, his thighs, his waist, up to his stomach and—

His eyes widen. "What is that?" His voice cracks. His head gets hit with a stronger smell of anaesthetics and he scrutinises the stitches lining across his skin and Nine, this is no time for payback and— "Nine, where's Lisa?"

A pause. "You were lucky," he says again.

Stop.

"You hadn't woken up for seven days, Twelve."

Stop.

"She was the only donor available in such short notice—"

"Stop." The heart monitor beeps faster, flashes red faster, and all he wants is for it to shut up. "Just stop."

His fingers ball into fists so tight, his nails dig into his palms, and the stitches on his side only stab worse than the bomb fragments.

Nine complies and stays silent and something streams down both sides of Twelve's face, but his hands are too numb to wipe them off or to even move.

Twelve clenches his eyes shut.

"Where is she, Nine?"

Nine looks away.

"Don't lie to me."

"Twelve—"

"Please." Lisa was never supposed to save him.

Not like this.

…

"I'm sorry."

Not like this.

…

…

…

…

a/n: …i'm kinda as sadistic as you. here it is, just for you, ya brilliant psychic motherfucker (pardon my french).

(also canon kinda botched my guess of when lisa would learn nine and twelve's names, surprise surprise. can i leave it as is anyway?)

*braces for gunfire and pitchforks*

(i'm sorry; this is how I cope with 3+ animes bombarding me with feels in the same week…!)