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He used to rule this kingdom.
That was before it all. Before anything happened, and before anyone even knew what did happen. The scene wasn't clear to the masses until it was completely over, and not just after the smoke from the crash cleared.
Even Blade's knowledge of the situation was delayed, to the point that he was pacing a trench into the concrete floor waiting for an update. Dan was a good doctor; he trusted that much. But he was also a white collar man, a by the book sort of fellow. Even if he was Maru's brother, it didn't excuse either of them from having to wait on the information of their visiting patient like everyone else. That, and Dan didn't really have an answer for them anyways. He was still elbows deep in the damage.
He used to rule this kingdom, and the skies were his only limits. He'd soar into the cerulean without a care in the world, born to reach the clouds, built to test their limits. And in a way, equally, to test his own. He tested them, and until now he’d known no limit. Now he’s hit the ceiling. Or rather, the ceiling fan hit him. In all his years, in all his practice, in all his time spent enjoying the sky, he’d never expected this. He felt all at once like he was never prepared for this. The ground wasn’t prepared to see him again so soon.
Nick was absolutely on the side of headstrong, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew full-well the kinds of dangers he was staring dead in the eyes every time he spooled up his rotors and took to the air. He’d known since the first day that he was cleared to fly, and from the first day he’d attempted to make a trick. He’d known from the first day he auditioned to become an actor, from the first day he signed on with the film studio to be on the cast of their television show. All this time he’d known, he’d understood, and he’d been aware. But he had never experienced it. Never. It all happened so quickly, he blinked and his skids slammed into the dirt, the inertia breaking his drive shaft and separating his tail from his main body. He hadn’t known, really. He had no idea just how bad it could become.
He used to rule this kingdom.
And Blade was his right-hand man, in it. His guardian, his soldier, his accomplice. In all things he’d said and done and dared, Blade was there for him, whether on his side or opposing it he was still there. Smiling, hoping, supporting him from the sidelines. It felt like it took Nick far too long to understand why. All that time before he’d said anything, all their memories he’d been sure were just things friends did. But friends don’t look at each other like that. Just friends don’t say those soft sweet things. As soon as he’d made the connection, it was like he was falling, just like he was falling out of the sky.
But that one didn’t hurt. That one felt right. That one felt ready.
He’d only just done it. Less than a day prior he’d taken him up on his offer, and had responded to his question. He’d closed the gap between their lips, and between their hearts, and all in the blink of an eye the world felt perfect. The world felt right. The missing piece had fallen into place, and the picture was clear now. He still could never have believed the two falls had been so close together. After falling so hard so quickly over his partner in crime, how possibly could he fall more so?
Even before he called Blade his partner, he never would have wished this upon him. To have just poured your heart out, only to watch the very thing you committed yourself to fall. There was nothing that Blade could do. Not then, and not now. All he had for comfort was Maru holding him back, and the heat of burning tears forced upon him with every passing moment of anticipation. He had fallen, and now he was in a limbo. Now he was closer to death’s touch than he had ever been before.
How, now, could he ever take the throne again?
He’d fallen; his life, his career, his kingdom, fell with him.
Nick’s memory of the first time they’d finally let Blade into the room wasn’t altogether clear. Blade had to re-explain the story to him some amount of days later, when he was conscious enough to comprehend it. Blade had known - at least a little bit, then - of the extent of Nick’s damages, and what they would very likely mean for him. He didn’t care; all he worried was that Nick would be alive. And he was alive, if only by the saving grace of doctors and mechanics and modern medicine. He’d rolled into the room only to take in the amount of machines his partner was hooked up to, wires sprawling in all directions over his fresh welds. They’d rebuilt the things they could; now, it was up to the test of his own body whether he could readapt to them.
He was awake, if only just; dizzy, dilated eyes attempted to focus on Blade’s frame, where it stood swaying around unevenly before him. But he knew he was there, comforting him, pressing his nose ever so gently into the side of his cheek. Though the wounds were still fresh and his mind was still fuzzy, he knew, at the very least of things, that he was still alive. Come what may of the future , he must have been thinking, because I’m still alive .
The future was never going to be the same again. It would never go back to being the way it was before. In that blink of an eye moment, in that fall, everything dissipated. Everything crumbled. He was broken, in a way so severe that doctors warned he might never be cleared to take to the skies again. He might never be able to return to his profession. His life, though he was still alive, would never be the way he’d known it ever again. Not ever.
The future before him now was completely unknown. And it terrified him.
But Blade was with him. Maru was, too. He was here. And he had them. Even through the lengthy process of his hospital recovery, and months of physical therapy, and the process of readapting his life to accommodate the changes, he still had them. That was the part that wouldn’t change. So long as they were here, he knew that he would get along just fine.
He knew he would be okay.