"At least that's not fatal," Walton consoled himself, because Steve didn't look consoled, and Karl understood that perfectly well. Karl was surprised, depressed, shocked, but Steve must have been devastated.
"Sorry," Paxton said, still hiding his face.
"For what?" Walton's heart tightened with concern. There was something in Steve's tone of voice... "It's not your fault," he assured him quickly, emphatically.
Steve began to tremble slightly and suddenly Karl's heart leapt into his throat. In the years that Heather lay in a coma, constantly on the verge of life and death, Paxton had only one thing in life that he loved, one thing that kept him afloat to keep him from falling into the abyss of despair. Now the doctors were taking the thing away from him, perhaps forever, and Steve experienced helplessness and a sense of loss of almost the same power as the loss of a loved one.
It was unfair. It was so fucking unfair to Steve!
