The metallic seats near the operation theatre shimmer under the scintillating tube lights. Meanwhile, the butted end of a matchstick crumples inside me.

Gran sits a few seats from me-- her silent face looking like it's been stabbed by a blunt knife.

She still brought a fresh set of clothes for me.

I changed into them within the cramped dividers of the hospital toilets. The duffle bag containing my blasted phone and drenched clothes, with a taunt of blood is still at my feet.

I scratch at the bandage at the side of my head-- a twitch also pulling at my hand where a tetanus injection prickled it.

Ethan's pacing in front of me-- his own nose bandage and clothes changed.
While Allison bites at her nails-- also in changed clothes-- just beside Gran. She had a bit of sneezing problem because of her allergy for rainwater. It's better now.

Mr and Mrs Ingram have brought clothes for the cousins. They're sitting at Gran's left-- Mrs Ingram saying something to her-- making her smile momentarily.

Ethan, Al and I Ubered here after the ambulance drove Dylan away. There's been some shouting of a punctured lung by a rib-- from what I've caught.

We've been waiting for almost seven hours now. No news whatsoever from the theatre. Just a drill of instruments resounding from within.

My hands now-- a pale that's been carved into my flesh. The bandage on my left still twitches a bit.

"Your ambition often frightens me, Lindsey."

If it hadn't been for that ambition...

Footsteps clamp onto the marble floor and two familiar figures come forth. Gran's eyes widen-- the most alive expression she's given here.
A sigh comes from me at the irony.

Mary and Uncle Gary stand at some distance. The former's arms across her chest, and the latter's hands keep flexing at his sides. Both of them staring at unfamiliar faces of the Ingrams and Alams.
"How's he? Dylan?" Uncle Gary asks.

Their faces encase the same expression I had on entering the exact hospital where the Rosens are.

Did I really meet them only yesterday?

Mr Ingram glances at Gran-- realising the recognition flashing on her face.

Whispering something to his wife, he stands up and tells them all that he knows. Mr Alam nods at his wife-- Mahira, I think is the name-- before the former gets up to help Mr Ingram with explaining. I don't think I've ever seen the slight tremble in Mr Alam's voice. It's always calm and collected.

Their voices become a whisper in the background.

The door blares open, and a woman comes out of it. She lowers her procedure mask to reveal a thin coat of sweat on her plump cheeks.

"Mum, what's happened?" Allison asks the woman.

... So many coincidences.

Mrs Crimsom sighs, as a male nurse from behind her comes-- holding a tray with a clipboard.
She places her crimsoned gloves on the side-- nodding at the nurse. Even his face looks grim.
Another two surgeons stand beside her-- wearing the same turqoise shirt and cotton trousers.

Mrs Crimsom starts,
"Mr. Knightley's condition is critical, but stable. He's got a fractured femur on his left leg, a shattered kneecap and several joint dislocations, which have already been treated. The damage to his left shoulder was considerably greater, but should heal within a few weeks of rest.
Paramedics tended to the left pneumothorax caused by the fracture of his two ribs.
So far, we have not been able to detect any damage to his spinal cord, which is in fact, surprising. With proper care, rest and medication, Mr. Knightley should be able to walk and function normally, if he wakes up."

"If?" Ethan says-- his voice shredding, making Mrs Crimsom raise a brow at her nephew.

"The concussion he suffered caused swelling of the brain. We've treated the swelling, but only time will tell the extent of the damage.

"We've done everything we can. It's all up to him, at this point. We'll lift the medically induced coma in twenty-four hours, and hopefully, he'll wake up."

Everyone freezes. My face still like the revealed ivory keys of a piano-- gathering dust on the pristine white.

What a lovely similie I've chosen for myself...

Click.

Mrs Crimsom puts the clipboard and pen back on the tray. Her brown eyes not meeting ours.
"He'll be moved to the isolation room in the ICU. I'm sorry, but we can't allow visitors just yet."

She turns to her left-- jolting Ethan back to life and letting her through. The other surgeons are at both of her sides, discussing about the case in jostled tones.
Allison gives me a glance. She bites on her lower lip and leans back in her seat.

I want to give her a smile-- the way my brother always gave me. The kind of hidden smile a ballerina gives, despite her toes aching beneath. But I can't.
Or else my smile will seem like the one an asphodel would've given.

"I love you like I'd love my own daughter, Linds."

Sighing, my head lowers while hands clamp into my hair-- not pulling at it, just... just tired.

Now, when I'm certain whose life I'll choose... Dylan...

Everyone talks amongst themselves, but my ears can't process a single word passing through them.
They're screeching their own out-of- tune melodies.

"Stay away from my niece!"

Henry fumes; Meredith growls, her eye contact with me breaking; I'm freed.

"Lindsey, MOVE!"

My eyes slap themselves shut. But that only assists the memories to tramp inside-- barring the door and windows.

Eye contact... it's the eye contact that binds. When she gets distracted... only then it breaks...

Something presses into my shoulder-- it's familiar and soft.

Funny how there's a liar in familiar, and a lie in belief...

"Love, do you want to eat something? We're all going to the cafeteria," Ms Bra-- Gran says.

Hands drop into my lap, as I sit a bit straighter. Though, I still can't look at her.

"It might take your mind off things," Mrs Ingram adds.

From the limited view I'm getting by looking downwards, almost everyone seems to have disappeared during my self-pity party.

I shake my head-- sight distracting itself to the right-- instead of the centre south.

Just like a ten year old once did when her gran offered to sleep with her in the dark-- on her parents and sister's death anniversary. Just like a ten year old when she tried to swallow the lumps in her throat-- despite the drooping eyelids. Instead trying to be happy for her brother's birthday without him.

The fifteen year old now still isn't able to say anything. And she doesn't have any hope for daylight either.

Gran squeezes my shoulder, and reaches for the duffel bag near my feet.
"The ICU's down the corner, on the left. You might want to go there."

She doesn't mention and hospital formalities-- only that I might want to go there...

Something comes over me as I whip my head up. Trying to stop them.

But then heels clink on the floor-- signalling Gran and Mrs Ingram's departure. Both of them look over their shoulders-- Gran's gaze lingering longer with bag in her hands-- before turning to the right.

Lost a chance... again...

With a fleeting look at the theatre, my legs lift me up, before any nurse has too.
They feel almost like something foreign attached to me-- rather than extensions.

Is this how Matthew felt when Henry went limp-- after seemingly solving all of their problems?

The clock ticks on the seats near the ICU. A century old war between the faithless time and void plays along.
It's been almost an hour since everyone's dispersed.

I first tried pacing around here, but then thought that that might weave more anxiety in. My own and everyone else who watches me.

The strange thing is that-- when I first sat here-- my body went rigid against the cushioned-green couches here. Like how it is now.

I haven't seen anyone taking a patient in or out of the ICU. They probably have a separate route for them, though.

"No harm shall ever come to your family."

I look up at the doors of the ICU-- a doctor coming out of it and turning away to continue his work.

So that's what you meant by that offer, Meredith...

The seat at my right weighs down-- as if somebody has sat on it.

From the corner of my eye, I see the same old redhead with a bandage on his nose.
"Hey," Ethan greets.

Hey, too... I guess.

Ethan glances at me-- his head tilting.
I give a small nod-- rubbing a hand over my right lower arm.

For some reason, he smiles.
"Mr Alam just went back home with his wife. They were saying something about their two year old daughter. Offered Ms Bragge a ride back to Edenfield, but she refused-- saying she wants to stay here.
Though, Mr Alam says he'll be back in a few hours.

"Als's mum, Aunt Bridget, will be staying the night here."

If everything had went according to plan, then both you and Als would've known about Mr Alam by now...

My right arm wraps around my front waist, while the left stays on my thigh.

I try to form some words, but they seem to have gotten stuck in a cobweb. They try to wriggle out of it, but then my attention averts by Ethan swiftly shaking his head.

"You don't have to say anything. With all that's going on..." he sighs.

"I... I just wanted to let you know, Lindsey. Assure you more that, whatever happens, you and Ms Bragge still have Als, the Alams, my parents and... and me, of course.

"That's... I'll just stop talking now, actually."
He looks down at his hands-- lightly picking at them with his own fingers.

This time, my head tilts to the side at hearing what he has to say.
A memory comes into my mind again, but then Gran's face replaces it.

Her face vanishes, as a memory forms-- a memory that I wish I'd have answered when it happened.

"I love you like I'd love my own daughter, Lindsey. I hope you know that."

Ethan presses his hands on the cushioned seat beneath him. Sighing, he stands up and takes a step--

"Thanks..." My voice sounds more like a croak-- chipped and cracked.

He whips around, and blinks at me with those same brown eyes from his music club. Curious and alive.

Eyes rolling, my head points at the his old seat.

Ethan shakes his head-- smiling for the thousandth time-- and sits down.
I shuffle in my seat and expect for something cocky.

Instead, he says,
"Friends don't say 'Thanks' to each other, Lindsey."

"Says the person who ended a phone call with a thanks." A full sentence comes, but it still sounds clipped and cut at the edges.

Ethan holds his hands up-- like the same boy I've met before the fight.

Though, his face drops as he looks at something on my face.
"You've got dark circles under your eyes," he replies to my raised brow.

The arm wrapped around my waist travels to my eyes-- touching the now heavy bags beneath them. It drops to my lap-- as if to sigh itself.

I slept for twelve hours, yesterday. Then why I do still have them?

They weren't a relaxing twelve hours, in my opinion,
my subconscious says.

"Maybe, you should close your eyes."

I shoot him a sceptical look without thinking.

He rolls his irises.
"Don't worry, I'm not going to drug your drink or anything."

Slight sways of my head answer his statement.

Putting the jokes aside, the eyes through his glasses soften-- making me stop shaking my head. He says,
"Let me rephrase that:
Maybe, you should close your eyes and try to get some sleep. Leaning back once in a while helps."

But can I lean back when...
My gaze shifts to the ICU door.

Ethan nods.
"There's always a glimmer of hope, Lindsey.

"Or something like that. I don't pay much attention in Mrs Poppins's class -- especially when she taught idioms. Always hated them."

My lips suck themselves into my mouth. It takes a couple of minutes to even lean back in my seat.

Though, as soon as my back meets the behind, Ethan does the same.
"Moral support." He shrugs and starts humming.

It isn't a random hum. It has keys and tunes and ups and downs.
It's of a song... a song I first heard about a year ago.

I think it's With Hope by... by Joel Sandberg.

A hand stays on top of mine, and I realise it's Ethan's. It just stays there-- till I intertwine mine with it.

After a few minutes of his humming, I imagine myself playing the exact same song on the piano in the Grande Sala. I just play it by ear, not a sheet music.

As my eyes let themselves close, a murmur breaks in through the humming. It doesn't disrupt it. Instead, it helps with its flow.

There will be shadows in July,
But also twilight in February.
I promise, alone you never shall be...

"I'll always stay by your side, Lindsey."

A lot of feels came for me in this chapter. And the last one.
Oh boi, oh boi.

And yeah... everyone repeating some gestures is supposed to be like that. I want to show them being somewhat 'stuck' by the situation.

Lindsey being able to connect dots is also a coping mechanism. She doesn't have any sort of homework she can busy herself with, but her 'plotting' mind comes in.

Plus, I thought using body language would be better for explaining their thoughts near the end.

Also, the 'offer' Lindsey's talking about is the one Meredith made way back in '33. The Other Devil'.
I tweaked up that offer a bit(so, that's why it may seem different).
Meredith bloody didn't tell me that she never lies, till some time ago. 😬

Oh and the song above is 'With Hope' by Joel Sandburg. And it's the song Ethan's humming in the last scene.
Allison said 'For the First Time Part II' that Ethan's a good singer. Guess she wasn't wrong. ;D

AND ALLISON'S BIOLOGICAL MUM FINALLY MAKES A CAMEO OMG

I think this is my first chapter to be 'remotely' romantic(a bit). I tried NOT to get overboard with that, because that'd be like romanticising a grim situation.

We don't want that now, don't we?

Also, this chapter is dedicated to silvana_md for helping this English major in med distress.
Thanks so much, Silvana! ♡

I hope you all liked the chapter! Please drop a vote if you did.

Here's the question for this week:

What do you think will become of Dylan?

P. S.
The next chapter will be in Allison's POV. FINALLY!

Have a great week!
Love,
MS Zame