"There's something amiss with the files so I did a little digging privately. I think our Mr Osborn was using himself as a guinea pig to cure whatever was originally wrong. Cancer, I suspect. Whatever he did, he created his own unique sickness and passed it on to his son." Of course they didn't want Hartley to look into it, it would be a scandal. They weren't supposed to do that sort of experimentation, especially not on their own CEO.
"I think a sample of his blood and DNA would be useful, then we can look into it together before I leave. It would be more medically interesting. For me. Personally." Not that saving a young man from AIDS wasn't but, well, this was one hell of a scandal and an interesting one too. Very comic book.
"Of course." Hartley nodded, heading for the door and then pausing. "Please don't bring up the-- All of that. Harry doesn't know they've been bothering me about it. He gets worked up even thinking about his father, all of that." Best to not make him deal. If he survived, then he could fill him in. Right now it seemed pointless to add too much stress.
Hartley opened the door and walked out so he could help Harry up. Out of nowhere, seemingly, a blond hunk descended and appeared on Harry's other side, ready to lead him inside.
"You can lean on me if you need to," Fandral assured him, pausing briefly to smile brilliantly at Stephen, "I got a souvenir for Christine. We can pretend you picked it."
"Wonderful, that's one less person." Stephen called out casually as he turned to Fandral, offering him a playful smile.
Harry gripped onto the hunk but looked at Hartley in utter bafflement. "Uh... who the fuck is that?" Well, he thought it was a fair question. "Am I hallucinating? Do I know him? -- I think I would have remembered him?"
"No, you would have. This is Fandral. Fandral, this is Harry and Hartley, the ones you wanted me to come for." Stephen gestured at Fandral and then moved away to set up the bed. "He was my motivation for coming, like I said, moved by your tale. He's the sap."
"I'm Stephen's partner," Fandral explained, while leading Harry the last few steps toward the bed and then pretty much lifting him on it without any sign of strain. A testament both to Fandral's level of fitness and just how weak Harry had gotten.
"...you are a doctor?" Hartley was confused. He looked like a model, not like a doctor. Not that doctors couldn't look hot, but this was Sirius level of distracting hotness.
"Ah, no. Afraid not. We're romantic partners." Fandral smiled, then looked down at Harry, "Stephen tried to explain what they are doing to me and I'm not sure I understand, but it did sound as if he knows."
"We do know." Hartley frowned, looking at Stephen, "So, you won the gay lottery?"
"I did, yes." Stephen said, clearly not ashamed to brag. "So did he. We've been together for ten years."
"Shit. He's so hot." Harry stared at Fandral, unashamed and horny, not really feeling like he had to change his energy or anything because fuck it, he was dying and this could all go very wrong so here he was, getting to see an angel before the end of things. "I have one last wish. Before I die. Can you maybe just -- take your shirt off?"
Well, worth a shot.
"No, he can not." Rolling his eyes, Stephen gently pushed Fandral away. "You need to head out, we have to do a procedure now."
"Or take off your shirt and stay..." Harry offered with a shrug, looking at Hartley. "Seems fair, right? That I get that before it all ends."
"You can't ask every hot bloke you see to undress for you. You might not even be dying much longer!" Hartley berated Harry, but he couldn't get too angry. Harry was dying, after all. And Fandral was very hot. He sat down by his bedside, running a hand through his hair. "I'll be wearing the gloves and have my hearing aids altered for this, so I can discern the frequencies. As we discussed. If the therapy is working, it will still be a longer process, but some changes should be fairly immediate. You have to tell Stephen. Stephen will be able to communicate with me."
They had gone over all of this before, but Hartley felt it important to discuss it again. "And, no, I also won't be taking my shirt off."
"I would have taken my shirt off," Fandral chimed in, before giving Stephen a nod. "I'll wait outside. And if all goes well, I can still strip down later." He shrugged. "I'm Scandinavian. We have sauna. We love getting naked."
"I'll sauna if it works, I don't care how shit I look. I want to go to a gay sauna again." Harry mumbled as he kept his eyes closed, his head exploding in pain. He had a headache since... well, last week, but the passed few days had been brutal. Harry adjusted how he was lying and then nodded his head. "How do I know what changes? What to say?"
"If you're in a lot of pain, say. If you notice the pain reducing, also tell us. I'm watching your vitals, the treatment will go in through the IV line and Hartley will work the sonic vibrations." Stephen explained as he finished putting the IV line into Harry's arm. "Don't hesitate to protest."
"Gotcha." Harry smiled despite everything, so beyond resigned to his fate now. He looked at Hartley and met his eyes. "I love you. Same then as now. Still my handsome Hart."
"I love you too," Hartley told him, his heart beating so loud. The door closed, Fandral must have left. He hadn't even noticed, he was too absorbed in Harry. "I won't let them take you from me."
Whoever they were. Whatever he was fighting, he would keep on fighting. Hartley powered up the gloves after he finished putting them on, reaching for his ears. It didn't take long to adjust them. The noise was loud, almost overwhelming, but it made it easier to find the frequency he was going for.
He looked over at Stephen and gave a nod and then they started. He watched Harry, but he followed Stephen's instructions. He had to trust his readings of the vitals. This would be harrowing on Harry, of course it would be. But Stephen wasn't stopping. This had to be working. Stephen wouldn't continue if it wasn't.
Hartley kept going, no feel for how much time had passed. Could be minutes, could be hours. His ears hurt, he felt exhausted, but he also thought he saw some colour in Harry's cheeks. He definitely saw him breathing still. His eyes blinking.
Finally, Stephen told him to stop and he took off the gloves, cringing at the marks they left. Burns for sure. He reverted his hearing aids to the normal settings, but for the moment he couldn't hear a thing other than a high pitched sound. Even so, he moved to Harry's side, fingers going through his hair, blinking his eyes that were tearing up. Had it worked? Was there any sign of success?
Harry didn't know what happened. He blacked out at one point and then it just felt like waking up. He felt sick still, his whole body was shaking but his head was pounding less, his body aching less and his eyes clearer. Stephen was immediately by his side, taking blood from his arm as he lay there, trying to get his brain to start working again.
When it did, he looked at Hartley and then his hands, alarm hitting him as he tried to sit up.
"Shit! Hartley! Fuck, your hands!" He wanted to help but he didn't know how. "Doctor?"
"His vitals are up, I'll test his T-cells shortly and then we'll have a verdict on the success." Stephen explained as he came over and looked at Hartley's hands. "Surface level, he'll be fine. No skin grafts, just like spilling hot water." So no less painful but he wasn't in crisis mode. "Run them under cold water."
"It's fine, Harry. Don't worry about it." He couldn't even be bothered right now, he was just amazed by what Harry was showing, what Stephen was telling him. "Stay down, love. I'll take care of the hands. Up the insulation on the gloves for next time."
He still didn't know how long they'd gone, but clearly they had heated up more than anticipated. He'd have to check them for damage. For the moment, he followed Stephen's advice and held them under cold water, even if it meant taking a few steps away from Harry.
"How are you feeling? No snark, I just want to know."
"Dunno. My head hurts less but I still feel like utter shit." He was still sick, after all, so his chest hurt and he was nauseated but other than that, he was feeling like he had more energy. Maybe. "I'm not sure if it's placebo or not but I think I feel more... awake?"
He tried to push himself up, his arms struggling as he finally got himself sitting, looking at Hartley.
"I haven't falling over yet so that's a good sign, right?" His vitals looked good so -- it had to be good, right? He rubbed at his eyes. "Felt so weird. Like all my nerves were dancing."
"Yeah, it's..." Hartley treated his hands, very quickly bandaging them both. Not his first time, he had been experimenting with the gloves a long time, after all. With them bandaged up, he headed over to the bed, sitting next to Harry. "We don't quite know anything yet. I'm hoping for some change to your T-cell count. And it should keep going right now, whatever we started. We don't know for how long. Could be that the effects keep going twenty-four hours. Maybe a week. Maybe longer or shorter. Keep improving you."
Here was hoping. It was all theoretical still, but at least something had happened. "You have some colour in your cheeks. I'll say that. That's not just placebo."
He was trying not to be too hopeful, but he hoped nonetheless.
"It's going to take four to five hours for the count. Relax, lie down, I'll keep an eye on your vitals."
Harry nodded to Stephen and leaned against Hartley before he held onto his jacket and pulled him down with him when he flopped back. With a smile, he forced Hartley to lie with him on the awkward little bed, holding onto him tight as he closed his eyes and leaned against him, rested and feeling much less pained than usual. For the first time in a while, he actually managed a nap that lasted.
So much so that when he woke five hours later, he was groggy and confused but Stephen was yelling from the other room.
"T-count is way up! You were 54, you've shot up to 200! Almost at the threshold." Stephen whooped from the other room. "Fuck yeah."
"What?!" Hartley had dozed off as well, so he took a moment to process. And this was better than he'd have ever dared to dream, so processing took even longer. Then he pulled Harry into a hug and held him, simply held him, trying to comprehend. "It's working. It's... Harry, it's really working!"
All those hopeless, empty promises he'd made, the many times he'd sworn that he'd save him. The fights they had had over this, the tears he'd shed. The days and nights of working without sleep, the many letters and phone calls, the begging for donations, all of it, it was actually paying off.
His world was healing.
He got up, finally, to hurry over to Stephen. "Can I see?! It's-- We have to do more tests. Do we do another round? Do we wait a day? A week? How long can you stay?"
"Is 200 good?" Harry asked sleepily as he sat up, reminded of his old party days right now because there he was, feeling a tad hung over and not understanding anything that anyone was saying. He yawned loudly and pulled himself up, his body weary and tired but eager to be a part of things.
"I would say maybe a week? His body is still very weak physically, we can't push to a limit but look at that. That's remarkable. It's like resetting a body." Stephen was amazed, he looked at the blood test and then pulled up the one before, showing Hartley both with fascination. "See, the T-count is up and all his other markers are at a way better ratio."
"So... am I okay?" Harry asked, getting the feeling he was. "Hart? Am I-- Am I gonna make it?"
"That's... I mean, it reflects some of my hypotheses, but I never really believed it would--" He trailed off, pressing his lips together, overcome with emotions. Holding both blood tests in hand, he walked over to Harry and made him sit down next to him on the bed. "This is your blood test from before. This is the one we took after."
He pointed out the various changes and explained, trying to stick to layman terms as much as possible. "A T-count of 200 or less indicates that a person has AIDS. You being at 200, possibly higher by now... You are more like someone HIV positive. Not AIDS. We don't know how stable any of this is, if you are still going up, but Stephen is right. It's like we reset your body."
The way he had envisioned it. "We'll keep testing your blood, I'd say at least twice a day. And we can do another round of treatment in a week. But..."
Hartley paused, finally, turning to simply smile at Harry. "Yeah. You're gonna make it."
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no subject
"I think a sample of his blood and DNA would be useful, then we can look into it together before I leave. It would be more medically interesting. For me. Personally." Not that saving a young man from AIDS wasn't but, well, this was one hell of a scandal and an interesting one too. Very comic book.
"Shall we invite your boyfriend in?"
no subject
Hartley opened the door and walked out so he could help Harry up. Out of nowhere, seemingly, a blond hunk descended and appeared on Harry's other side, ready to lead him inside.
"You can lean on me if you need to," Fandral assured him, pausing briefly to smile brilliantly at Stephen, "I got a souvenir for Christine. We can pretend you picked it."
no subject
Harry gripped onto the hunk but looked at Hartley in utter bafflement. "Uh... who the fuck is that?" Well, he thought it was a fair question. "Am I hallucinating? Do I know him? -- I think I would have remembered him?"
"No, you would have. This is Fandral. Fandral, this is Harry and Hartley, the ones you wanted me to come for." Stephen gestured at Fandral and then moved away to set up the bed. "He was my motivation for coming, like I said, moved by your tale. He's the sap."
no subject
"...you are a doctor?" Hartley was confused. He looked like a model, not like a doctor. Not that doctors couldn't look hot, but this was Sirius level of distracting hotness.
"Ah, no. Afraid not. We're romantic partners." Fandral smiled, then looked down at Harry, "Stephen tried to explain what they are doing to me and I'm not sure I understand, but it did sound as if he knows."
"We do know." Hartley frowned, looking at Stephen, "So, you won the gay lottery?"
no subject
"Shit. He's so hot." Harry stared at Fandral, unashamed and horny, not really feeling like he had to change his energy or anything because fuck it, he was dying and this could all go very wrong so here he was, getting to see an angel before the end of things. "I have one last wish. Before I die. Can you maybe just -- take your shirt off?"
Well, worth a shot.
"No, he can not." Rolling his eyes, Stephen gently pushed Fandral away. "You need to head out, we have to do a procedure now."
"Or take off your shirt and stay..." Harry offered with a shrug, looking at Hartley. "Seems fair, right? That I get that before it all ends."
no subject
They had gone over all of this before, but Hartley felt it important to discuss it again. "And, no, I also won't be taking my shirt off."
"I would have taken my shirt off," Fandral chimed in, before giving Stephen a nod. "I'll wait outside. And if all goes well, I can still strip down later." He shrugged. "I'm Scandinavian. We have sauna. We love getting naked."
no subject
"If you're in a lot of pain, say. If you notice the pain reducing, also tell us. I'm watching your vitals, the treatment will go in through the IV line and Hartley will work the sonic vibrations." Stephen explained as he finished putting the IV line into Harry's arm. "Don't hesitate to protest."
"Gotcha." Harry smiled despite everything, so beyond resigned to his fate now. He looked at Hartley and met his eyes. "I love you. Same then as now. Still my handsome Hart."
no subject
Whoever they were. Whatever he was fighting, he would keep on fighting. Hartley powered up the gloves after he finished putting them on, reaching for his ears. It didn't take long to adjust them. The noise was loud, almost overwhelming, but it made it easier to find the frequency he was going for.
He looked over at Stephen and gave a nod and then they started. He watched Harry, but he followed Stephen's instructions. He had to trust his readings of the vitals. This would be harrowing on Harry, of course it would be. But Stephen wasn't stopping. This had to be working. Stephen wouldn't continue if it wasn't.
Hartley kept going, no feel for how much time had passed. Could be minutes, could be hours. His ears hurt, he felt exhausted, but he also thought he saw some colour in Harry's cheeks. He definitely saw him breathing still. His eyes blinking.
Finally, Stephen told him to stop and he took off the gloves, cringing at the marks they left. Burns for sure. He reverted his hearing aids to the normal settings, but for the moment he couldn't hear a thing other than a high pitched sound. Even so, he moved to Harry's side, fingers going through his hair, blinking his eyes that were tearing up. Had it worked? Was there any sign of success?
no subject
When it did, he looked at Hartley and then his hands, alarm hitting him as he tried to sit up.
"Shit! Hartley! Fuck, your hands!" He wanted to help but he didn't know how. "Doctor?"
"His vitals are up, I'll test his T-cells shortly and then we'll have a verdict on the success." Stephen explained as he came over and looked at Hartley's hands. "Surface level, he'll be fine. No skin grafts, just like spilling hot water." So no less painful but he wasn't in crisis mode. "Run them under cold water."
no subject
He still didn't know how long they'd gone, but clearly they had heated up more than anticipated. He'd have to check them for damage. For the moment, he followed Stephen's advice and held them under cold water, even if it meant taking a few steps away from Harry.
"How are you feeling? No snark, I just want to know."
no subject
He tried to push himself up, his arms struggling as he finally got himself sitting, looking at Hartley.
"I haven't falling over yet so that's a good sign, right?" His vitals looked good so -- it had to be good, right? He rubbed at his eyes. "Felt so weird. Like all my nerves were dancing."
no subject
Here was hoping. It was all theoretical still, but at least something had happened. "You have some colour in your cheeks. I'll say that. That's not just placebo."
He was trying not to be too hopeful, but he hoped nonetheless.
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Harry nodded to Stephen and leaned against Hartley before he held onto his jacket and pulled him down with him when he flopped back. With a smile, he forced Hartley to lie with him on the awkward little bed, holding onto him tight as he closed his eyes and leaned against him, rested and feeling much less pained than usual. For the first time in a while, he actually managed a nap that lasted.
So much so that when he woke five hours later, he was groggy and confused but Stephen was yelling from the other room.
"T-count is way up! You were 54, you've shot up to 200! Almost at the threshold." Stephen whooped from the other room. "Fuck yeah."
no subject
All those hopeless, empty promises he'd made, the many times he'd sworn that he'd save him. The fights they had had over this, the tears he'd shed. The days and nights of working without sleep, the many letters and phone calls, the begging for donations, all of it, it was actually paying off.
His world was healing.
He got up, finally, to hurry over to Stephen. "Can I see?! It's-- We have to do more tests. Do we do another round? Do we wait a day? A week? How long can you stay?"
no subject
"I would say maybe a week? His body is still very weak physically, we can't push to a limit but look at that. That's remarkable. It's like resetting a body." Stephen was amazed, he looked at the blood test and then pulled up the one before, showing Hartley both with fascination. "See, the T-count is up and all his other markers are at a way better ratio."
"So... am I okay?" Harry asked, getting the feeling he was. "Hart? Am I-- Am I gonna make it?"
no subject
He pointed out the various changes and explained, trying to stick to layman terms as much as possible. "A T-count of 200 or less indicates that a person has AIDS. You being at 200, possibly higher by now... You are more like someone HIV positive. Not AIDS. We don't know how stable any of this is, if you are still going up, but Stephen is right. It's like we reset your body."
The way he had envisioned it. "We'll keep testing your blood, I'd say at least twice a day. And we can do another round of treatment in a week. But..."
Hartley paused, finally, turning to simply smile at Harry. "Yeah. You're gonna make it."