Just moments after Warfare comes to an end, Danny is wheeled out on a gurney. His head aches in a hundred different places, dried blood caking to his face and beard. His right eye has been sealed shut, and he’s certain he’s lost some of his memories from the past few hours. His hand lifts off from his side, smacking aside some paramedic’s attempt to strap him in.

His torso raises from the gurney, one eye caked shut still, and points towards the camera crew running to keep up with him. His other hand grips onto his precious Television Title tightly.

He drops back to the gurney, closing both eyes and going mostly still. His chest raises with every uneven breath and a cough surges through him, speckles of blood covering his beard and cheek. Jackson Turi, stoic as always, keeps up with the gurney, long legs stretching, never running. His right hand is raises to his ear, phone in hand, making some quick calls. His eyes never leave Danny.

He’d been watching the scene from the backstage, up until the moment Graves showed up. His body had moved without control, and the next thing he knew he’d walked through the curtain onto the ramp. Danny lay in the middle of the ring, paramedics rushing out from backstage to help the beaten-up Television Champion. Turi had cursed loudly and followed them, but stayed out of the way of the trained professionals. He knew what he had to do, he knew he couldn’t let this happen to Danny again. Not if he could help it.

He mutters under his breath as he follows Danny into the ambulance.

Danny’s eyes open wide, his body jerking up into a seated position. Pain shoots through him from his ribs, to his neck and the top of his head.

He flops back down onto the bed, almost passing out from the pain running through him. Danny blinks a few times, trying to get the stars to stop flashing in his vision. Jackson is almost immediately at his side, one hand resting on Danny’s forearm and the other gripping the metal handrail attached to the hospital bed.

Danny hears only half of the words through the raging headache he was suffering from, processing none of them.

Jackson sighs, unable to control the small smile that creeps onto his face. He reaches behind him, taking the title in his hands. Little flecks of blood are still sprayed across it, and he hands it to Danny’s waiting arms.

As realization dawns on him, his face contorts hideously. He lets out a wild scream that doesn’t do anything for his headache.

Danny reaches under his hospital gown, touching his chest as a memory of the spray paint returns to him. His head jerks down to check and he sighs in temporary relief when it’s clean.

Danny lunges off his bed, arms outstretched towards Jackson. Concern flashes on Jackson’s face just as pain courses through Danny’s body. He slumps back into the bed as his consciousness slips away from him.

Danny lies completely still, conscious but trying nothing too sudden. He glances about the room, noticing that only Jackson is in the far corner of the room, turned away from him and finishing up call. Danny ever so silently tilts his head to his right, spotting his television title on his bedside table. He notices a button in his hand, linked to a long wire, to an IV drip of morphine at his bedside. As the plan formulates in his mind, he begins pumping the button. It would’ve stopped dosing him after two, but he tried his luck anyways.

The drug pumped through his body, and he became light headed. He suppressed a giggle, feeling the pain leave his body artificially. Danny very slowly pushed his body off the bed, using his other hand, he slowly pulled out the needle in the back of his hand, pulling off the sensory attachments on his chest. The monitoring machines begin to beep, lacking an input and Jackson jerks his head towards Danny.

Danny swings his feet off the bed, feeling them touch the ground. Immediately, Jackson is by his side, annoyance clear on his expression. With a gentle palm, he tries to push Danny back. Through the drugs however, Danny flashes Jackson a glare like he’d never seen before. Freezing in his spot, Jackson allows Danny to stand up.

Right then, the ward door swings open and a man in a long white coat steps in. He glances up from the chart in his hand, surprise coming over him as he sees Danny standing.

He points to the floating XWF drone that had been assigned to monitor Danny’s progress.

Laughter booms out from the chest of the doctor before he notices the look on Danny’s face.

Danny stumbles past the doctor, making sure to take his title off the table. Jackson sighs, following him and making another call immediately, this time to their personal doctor. The drone beeps, following them down to the pick-up point. The three exit the elevator, Danny making it with a little help from Jackson. He turns to the drone, looking straight into the camera.