Ben Bruckner feels himself smile a little as his husband puts his head on his shoulder. As he turns to kiss his hair, he breathes in Michael’s scent. The physical contact soothes him because, god, things have been rough lately. For both of them. Their relationship is still strong but with JR up in Canada and Hunter up in Chicago, their home felt so empty. Ben took it hard. He missed that little girl and he and Hunter had such a strong bond. Having them both so far away was difficult. JR was now four and so adorable. She had Michael’s puppy brown eyes and Mel’s nose and mouth. She came to spend summers with them while Gus spent them with Brian. Lindsay and Mel were down for every holiday and they made sure to make it up for birthdays and any weekend they could spare.

As for Hunter, Ben was happy for him when he was selected by Second City Conservatory. Ever since going through all of the conservatory levels, he kept busy in different stand-up and comedy theater shows. He was starting to make quite a name for himself. If anyone could beat the odds then that kid could. But he rarely came home for visits and the calls were becoming less frequent due to more and more busy nights. They tried to go up there once ever couple of months to see him perform but money was tight, especially with spending it on what were starting to seem like futile attempts to have another child.

But, while he is taking the absence of the kids hard, Michael just seems so...sad. About everything. As down as Ben felt about things sometimes, it had broken his heart when he found Michael choking back sobs the other day. He knelt in front of his husband, wrapped his arms around him, and begged him to tell him what was going through his head. The devastating confusion in Michael’s eyes as he whispered, “I don’t know what’s wrong. I-I’m fine. I’m fine” almost made Ben want to burst into tears himself. What got to him even more was, until that point, Michael had tried to pretend he was happy. Smiling smiles that didn’t quite reach his eyes and going through the motions a little too often for the last few months. Michael was still passionate with him in bed, giving into what he needed completely until they came together. They still held one another as they went to sleep. He didn’t think that Michael felt any less for him. God, he hoped not.

“You feeling okay, baby?” Ben asks him, smoothing his hair back.

Michael hesitates but then eventually says, “I guess. I’m not feeling so well.”

Ben frowns, “What’s wrong? Where do you feel sick?”

“I don’t know.”

Ben puts a hand on Michael’s forehead to check his temper. He does feel really warm.

“You feel hot. I’m going to go find the thermometer, alright? I don’t want you moving a muscle.”

Ben gets up and goes to the bathroom to get the oral thermometer out of the medicine cabinet. He comes back in and sees Michael with his head tilted back and his arms out, eyes closed and pale. Shit.

“Here, just open your mouth for me,” Ben commands softly, sticking the thermometer out.

Michael opens his eyes to half-mast and opens his mouth part way. Ben sticks the thermometer under his tongue then waits for the beep.

“102.7,” Ben frowns, looking at Michael, “That’s not good, baby. Maybe we need to take a trip to the ER.”

Michael groans, “Ben, it’s okay. I probably just have the flu or something. Going to the emergency room would cost too much and it’s late. I’ll take some Advil to lower the fever and if I’m still at a high temperature tomorrow we can go to urgent care. It’s cheaper.”

“Michael, you could be really sick. I don’t care about the bill. I care about you.”

Michael gives him a soft smile, “I know you do. And I know if the tables were turned, I would be nagging you to go. But let’s try to treat my fever before jumping the gun. I bet you’ll wake up tomorrow next to a sweaty and non-feverish husband.”

“Well, I want you taking some Advil now. And drink lots of water!” Ben reminds him as he walks away to get the pills from the medicine cabinet and a tall glass of water, “Then we’re going to bed. I want you to get some rest and no going to the store tomorrow unless you are 100% better.”

Ben returns with the pills and the water. He puts two pills in his husband’s hand then sits next to him to keep him steady as Michael swallows them with the water. Michael finishes off the glass and starts to get up only to fall back down onto the couch.

“Woah! Are you alright?” Ben asks, holding onto his arm.

Michael gives a shaky nod, “Just got dizzy, I guess. I’m okay.”

Ben frowns, “Michael, are you sure-”

“Yes, Ben. I’ll be okay until tomorrow,” Michael says, a little exasperated.

Ben feels anxiety over Michael’s health. The guy rarely gets sick and when he does it’s no more than a minor cold that goes away within two days. It’s usually Michael taking care of him. He’s been more protective of Michael since the bomb though. He can’t help it. It would destroy Ben if he lost him.

“Hey, maybe you shouldn’t be around me right now,” Michael says suddenly with concern, “I don’t want to get you sick. Whatever I have could land you in the hospital.”

Michael starts to scoot away but Ben grabs his hand.

“Michael, you are the love of my life. I would risk that for you, Hunter, and JR in a heartbeat.”

“I should sleep out here tonight. I don’t want you getting sick,” Michael keeps saying as though he doesn’t hear him.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Ben says, ignoring Michael’s worrying. He lifts Michael up from under the arms and keeps an arm around his waist as he takes him upstairs. He lets Michael sit on the toilet to brush his teeth, makes sure he doesn’t fall while he takes a piss, and gets him into bed after following his own nighttime ritual. Ben puts an arm around Michael’s too warm body in order to keep track of his husband’s temperature, even if he keeps track unconsciously. He’d like to think that he’d wake up if something started to go wrong with his husband but a steady hand on him can’t hurt.

Michael falls asleep within minutes. Ben stays up just to watch him a little longer but the fatigue gets to him as well and he falls asleep.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first thoughts to Ben’s brain as he starts awake is that his arm is really fucking hot. He doesn’t know why it would be hot-

Shit. Michael.

Ben sits up, still slightly disoriented, and looks down at Michael. His eyes widen as Michael stares off into space, wheezing as if he can’t properly breathe.

“Michael? MICHAEL?! Hey. Hey, baby. Come on, look at me,” Ben commands, trying to soothe his husband through his own panic.

Michael doesn’t move his head much but moves his eyes to look at him and rasps out, “Ben?”

“Yeah, it’s me. I think it’s time for the ER now. I know you don’t want to go, but there’s something seriously wrong. So let me take your temperature again to have it on hand and I’ll go downstairs to call an ambulance, alright?”

Michael doesn’t nod or say okay but he doesn’t protest either. Ben quickly turns on the light and sits Michael up to put the thermometer in his mouth.

“M-My arms hurt-” Michael mutters around the thermometer as he holds his arms out, as though he can’t put them down.

Ben takes an arm and winces at Michael’s muffled cry before turning it over to look at what’s going on. As soon as he sees what’s making his husband hurt so much, he feels fucking sick.

Black veins, protruding across the underside of his arm, have made a web pattern across his skin. They are pulsating as they travel further and further down his arm and black goosebumps pop out up and down his skin. Just as Ben is about to lie and say it doesn’t look that bad, the thermometer beeps. Ben takes a few shaky breaths and takes the thermometer from Michael’s mouth.

It has to be wrong. Michael would be dead if this were his actual temperature. There’s no fucking way it’s 107 degrees.

“B-Ben?” Michael rasps, even weaker than before, “What does it say?”

“I have to go downstairs. You need a fucking hospital,” Ben tells him, tears already clouding his vision as he runs down to get his cellphone and dial 911 with shaky fingers.

“911, what’s your emergency?” a woman calmly asks over the line.

“P-Please you have to help him, it’s my husband,” Ben gasps out, losing all the control and zenness, as Brian would say, he built up over the years, “He’s sick. He’s really sick. He needs help. Please send someone to help him! Our address is 219 Leroy Lane. I need an ambulance. I’m afraid he’s going to die-”

“Sir? Sir, you need to calm down. Tell me what his symptoms are.”

Ben takes a shaky breath, “He had a fever of 102.7 a few hours ago and didn’t want to go to the hospital. He seemed like he was coming down with the flu or something. Weak, lethargic, headache. He took a couple of Advil before bed and I fell asleep with him. I woke up a few hours later and he was gasping for breath and felt really hot. He has these black veins and goosebumps under his arm and when I just took his temperature, it said 107. You need to get here now.”

“Sir, an ambulance is on its way but are you sure your thermometer is working properly? It is very hard for someone’s body to make it to that temperature and be lucid or conscious.”

“I don’t know! It has always worked properly before! Please, just help him!” Ben begs as he starts to break.

“They’re two minutes away, sir.”

“Two minutes. Two minutes,” Ben mutters as he runs back up the stairs. He need to make sure Michael’s in a comfortable position to be lifted out of bed. He’ll probably need to be put on a stretcher. He’ll call Brian after they get there so he knows. Debbie’s on a cruise with Carl so fuck, he won’t be able to get a hold of her. It’ll be fine. They’ll get Michael’s temperature down and he’ll be in the clear. Brian can bring him the stuff he doesn’t have time to pack right now and it would be okay. Everything would be okay-

“Michael?”

Ben looks around the room, a room that’s empty as can be.

Ben rushes around, calling out his husband’s name, looking in the bathroom, the closets, and even under the fucking bed. Where the fuck is he? He was so sick that he could barely move and now he can’t even find him!

Ben feels a gust of wind come from the bedroom window and his heart drops down to his stomach. He knows he didn’t leave the window open.

With shaky limbs, he walks over to the window and peaks his head out to look down, preparing himself to see his husband’s body lying in their yard.

He opens his eyes and sees nothing. No body, not even an injured Michael. Just a duck quacking and waddling around. Strange, since they don’t live that close to the river, but the duck's presence isn’t something that will completely ruin his life and rip his heart out.

Ben steps back and calls out Michael’s name a couple of more times before hearing the doorbell ring downstairs. Looking around one last time, he goes downstairs and opens the door.

“We’re here to respond to an emergency call made from this address,” the paramedic says, getting out his clipboard, “Are you the patient?”

Ben shakes his head, “I’m the one who called. I don’t know where my husband is.”

The paramedic narrows his eyes, “Sir, prank calling 911 is illegal-”

“I DIDN’T make a prank call. I came downstairs to call for my husband. He’s so sick. He needs to be in a hospital. But I can’t find him-...He was in the house. How did he disappear? He was in the house.”

Ben puts his head in his hands and rocks a little. He’s freaking out. He has to find Michael. People don’t vanish out of thin air.

The paramedic clears his throat, “Sir, are you on any medications? Any...antidepressants or antipsychotics? Anything of that sort that you may have forgotten to take or-”

Ben looks up, “What? No. I'm not on medications like that, at least. I really have a sick husband who I can’t find! Do you think I am lying?!”

“Sir, we just have to explore all possible avenues when we receive a call that seems suspicious. If there’s anyone we can call for you-”

“No! I need to find my husband. He’s sick and needs help! St...Stay here!”

Ben storms out of the house and looks through the bushes and on the sides of the house.

“Quack!”

Ben walks past the duck and goes to their back yard. He goes up to JR’s fort to see if for some unknown reason Michael would be up there. Of course he isn’t. Michael was much too weak to-

“Quack!”

Ben looks up to see the same duck as before. Apparently the little guy thought it would be fun to fly up to balance on top of JR’s fort. If this were just a normal night, he would think the duck was acting cute. But not tonight.

“Duck, I really don’t need your shit right now!” Ben fumes as he climbs down the ladder, “Literally! Don’t fucking take a shit up there!”

“Quack!”

The duck flies down to stand next to him, staring up at him with big dark eyes.

“I just need to find my husband,” Ben whispers to the creature, feeling helpless and alone.

“Quack,” the duck murmurs as he nuzzles Ben’s leg.

Ben sits on the swing and tries to control his breathing. As completely implausible as it is, Michael is not here.

“Sir?” the paramedic says softly, kneeling down.

Ben looks at the man to see what he wants, the man who is looking at him with his stupid condescending eyes.

“We can’t stick around if there’s no patient to transport.”

Ben nods absentmindedly, unsure of what to say.

“But we’d like you to come with us. If you have been seeing people who aren’t there then-”

“Michael’s real,” Ben snaps, “Go look at our wedding picture on the mantle. Go ask our neighbors about how dinner went yesterday. I’m not insane. I’m not confused. We have been together for almost seven years.”

“...Okay. But that doesn’t explain why who you made sound like was your deathly ill husband is nowhere to be found.”

Ben glares at the man, “Don’t you think if I knew why or how Michael disappeared I would tell you? Or your cop friend right behind you? What, did you think I was dangerous?”

“We had to take precaution,” the man tells him seriously.

Ben ignores him and gets up to march over to the cop. The cop puts a hand on his gun, ready to aim it at Ben, and the duck instantly starts quacking up a storm and running around the cop in circles.

“Who the fuck is this? Your pet?” the cop asks, staring down at the duck in disdain.

“No. He’s hanging out in my yard, I guess. Just stop looking at the duck and look at me! I need to file a missing person’s report. My husband is very sick. He had a fever of 107 and was having trouble breathing. He had black veins under his arms. I called 911 to take him to the emergency room but when I went back upstairs he was gone. Please. Help me find him. I’ll go back to the station with you. I’ll-”

The cop sighs then finally says, “Look. Your story is hard to believe. Someone with that high of a temperature would not be able to function. It doesn’t get higher than that before death. Body organs start failing and death follows soon after. So, if by some miracle he was able to walk out of your house without you seeing him, I’m guessing he wasn’t sick. You probably married some sick fuck who wanted to mess with your head-”

“Don’t you fucking talk like that about him,” Ben says in a quiet and deadly voice.

The cop throws up his hands, “You wanna file a missing person’s report for the prick and give them the story you’re giving me? Fine. But it will have to wait until morning. As long as he has no known mental disabilities and isn’t seriously disturbed, then it’s a low alert case until they’ve been missing for at least a few days. So go get some rest and come by the station tomorrow.”

Ben glares, “You-”

“Quackkk….” the duck lets out, as if in warning.

The cop smirks at the duck, “Listen to your new friend there, fairy. Talking back to a cop gets you nowhere but a jail cell.”

The cop walks away and the emergency squad leaves after they have Ben sign papers stating that the patient was not present for pickup. He watches the flashing lights as they drive away and tries not to give into his tears of worry and frustration.

Going back inside and closing the door in the duck’s face, he picks up the phone and dials a number of someone he know will be concerned.

“Hello?” Brian answers, uncharacteristically in a dull and sad voice.

“Brian?” Ben answers before sniffling, “Michael’s missing.”

There’s silence on the line before Brian clears his throat, “What do you mean, ‘missing?’”

“I mean that he was so fucking ill that I was afraid he was going to die. I went downstairs to call an ambulance and came back up only to find he was gone. I’ve looked everywhere. Brian, I don’t even know what was wrong with him. His fever was 107. One oh seven. He...He can’t live through that, can he? He could barely move in bed so how could h-he leave? Do you think he’s delusional? Why the fuck didn’t I see him leave?-”

“Calm down,” Brian orders, his voice stronger again, “I’ll be over as soon as I can, alright? Just go sit on the couch and wait for me. Did you tell the police?”

Ben snorts, “Yeah. They just told me to file a police report in the morning. Fucking asshole.”

Ben feels the tears fill his eyes once more as whimpers, “Brian, I can’t lose him. I can’t.”

“I know. I know. We’re not going to lose him. We’ll find him. I’ll be over there in ten minutes.”

Ben hears a click on the line and tries to keep his head level. They’re going to find Michael. They will. And he’s going to be okay. And even if he’s sick or needs help for the rest of his life, Ben will be there. He will make sure that Michael knows how much he loves him every single day-

Ben’s thoughts are interrupted by the flapping of wings and a, “QQQQQQUUUUUUAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKK!”

The black duck from outside flies from the upstairs hallway, lands in his lap, and looks up at him with his dark eyes.

“What the hell are you doing in my house?!” Ben shouts, standing up, “Get out!”

The duck flaps its wings to get its balance once more before letting out a lackluster, “Quack.”

Ben tries to show kindness to all animals. He really does. But he’s just not in the mood for this.

So it is not his finest moment when he grabs the broom and starts ushering the duck back outside.

“Quack! Quack quack quack! QUACK!”

“Stay. Outside,” Ben hisses as Brian comes up the porch steps.

The duck waddles over to Brian in a panic, “QUACK! QUACK QUACK QUACK!”

“Well, aren’t you an annoying creature?” Brian sneers before walking into the house. The duck rushes to try to get inside but Ben slams the door before he gets the chance.

“Duck infestation?” Brian asks, walking around the room.

“I don’t know and I don’t care. Tonight has been really strange but that duck is the least of my problems right now,” Ben sighs.

Brian hmms and turns to him, “Are Debbie and Carl still on their cruise?”

Ben nods, “Until Sunday.”

Brian nods, “I guess if we don’t find him by tomorrow, we can get a hold of Carnival to reach out to Debbie and go from there. They’re in the middle of the ocean though so I don’t see them getting back early unless we get them dropped off somewhere in Jamaica and have them flown back.”

“We can try that if we don’t find him by tomorrow night. Brian, I feel like I am at the end of my rope right now,” Ben admits, sitting down.

“This isn’t like him at all,” Brian agrees, “If he was that sick then he wouldn’t be able to walk off anyway, no matter how out of his head he was.”

“What are we going to do?”

“QUACK!!!”

Brian turns toward the sound, “Kill the duck?”

“I’m being serious,” Ben glares.

“We’re going to call every single house in a six block radius. If we don’t have their numbers then fuck it, we’ll pound on their door. If he’s not passed out in someone’s yard or someone’s house, we’ll make flyers once we get back to have on hand and put them around all of fucking Pittsburgh after you file the missing person’s report. I’ll rent out billboard spaces and plaster Michael’s face on each and every billboard we get. We’re going to find him. That’s a promise.”

Brian puts a hand on his shoulder in solidarity and Ben puts a hand on top of his in thanks. It’s the first time since waking up he’s felt even a small dash of hope.

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Outside, on a chilly night underneath the light of the full moon, a duck waddles in front of the door that leads to the place he calls home. Or at least used to call home.

”Ben, it’s me. It’s Michael. Your husband. I love you. Please know that I love you,” the duck thinks desperately as he stares at the front door.

He wants to say the words. He tries to say them. But when he tries once more, all he gets is a,

“Quack.”

The duck lets out a sigh, which only comes out as a quieter quack, and sits down on the porch. He has to make them see what's going on. He just has to.