Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of Symphonia or any of its properties.

Notes: This was written forever ago and posted to Tumblr. In an attempt to update this account with some things, I decided to post it here.

Talking to Coma Patients

There were a lot of things Lloyd didn't know about. Factual things, for instance, or figures from the books Professor Sage tried to teach him from, or formulas that he was supposed to memorize but had Genis memorize for him instead. There were a lot of things along those lines that Lloyd didn't know, but what he did know were stories.

A lot of the stories were closer to superstitions—myths that the people in Iselia made up about the surrounding woods or the seasonal rainstorms, or the reasons why it never snowed that much around them. A lot of the stories were tied into the Church of Martel, and had to do with decisions that the angels or even the Goddess herself made. But some stories were different; some stories were entirely unrelated to the religion or spirits or nature, and instead were more personal, were closer to home. A friend of a friend once fished up a killer fish, or someone's second cousin's uncle once had six toes on his foot and the sixth toe grew into a hook that he used to kill people. A lot of the stories were ridiculous, but Lloyd always had a pretty good memory for them anyway. Maybe it had something to do with how weird they were.

In any case, Lloyd remembered a story where someone's friend (or cousin, or friend of a cousin, or cousin of a friend's cousin's friend) fell into a coma—a type of deep sleep where they slept for weeks or months or years at a time. And he remembered hearing about how the family would go and talk to that person, because they thought that maybe the coma person would hear, and that when the coma person woke up they had heard and remembered everything. Lloyd never paid the story much thought, except to pretend he was in a coma when sleeping through one of Professor Sage's lectures one day (it didn't work), but now that Colette was "with them," but her eyes were vacant and her movements were listless, the story came to the forefront of his mind again.

So, he made the effort to talk to her.

"We couldn't stop the Professor from cooking," he said, as he walked over to join her on the fringe of their camp. Behind him, Genis was hastily trying to salvage the evening's meal while Sheena looked on with horror, and Presea stared with an expression as blank as Colette's. "It kinda makes me wish my taste buds were as dead as yours." He paused, and then couldn't help but cringe. "Sorry, that was a jerk thing to say."

Colette said nothing. She didn't even blink. Instead, her wings casting a pinkish-purple glow over both of them, she continued to stare out across the plane. They were on their way to Sybak to see if there was a cure for her there, a way to get her soul back, to get Colette back, and it was only that thought that kept him from losing it: the thought that, somehow, some way, they could still save her.

"But still," he said, and forced some cheer in his voice. "I think she's trying to use bell papers. That'd be extra bad for you, huh?" There was still no change. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You know, I've been thinking. You know that one dish you really liked? That fruit salad? Wouldn't it be cool if we could put every type of fruit ever into it? Before we stuck mostly to berries and lemons, but I was thinking, what if we added bananas, too? Bananas are good." He took a glance at her face to see that, for all intents and purposes, she was carved from marble. "Colette . . ."

"I think this is universal angel-speak for, 'go away.'" Lloyd looked over his shoulder to see that Zelos had walked up, an asinine smirk on his face. Lloyd scowled and looked away. "Give it up, bud. My sweet angel hunny can't hear a word you're saying."

"She's not your sweet angel anything," Lloyd muttered. "And she can hear me. I know she can. She just . . . doesn't have anything to say."

"Sure." Zelos dropped down on the other side of Colette, crossing his legs on the grass. Lloyd regretted the fact that Zelos wasn't near enough to shove. "Walls can hear you, too. They hear all sorts of sordid secrets."

"Shut up. Colette's not a wall." Lloyd ripped up a fistful of grass, punishing it for Zelos's transgressions as well as his own. "Why are you over here, anyway? I thought you'd be harassing Sheena some more."

"My lovely banshee is busy trying to salvage dinner with Genis," Zelos said casually. "Besides, I thought it do me good to spend some time over here. It's good to be visibly reminded of the risks every once in awhile." Lloyd frowned and looked over at him.

"Risks?"

Zelos snapped his fingers in front of Colette's face. She didn't flinch. "You are so beautiful, angel hunny," he said. "Beautifully grotesque."

Lloyd didn't know precisely what 'grotesque' meant, but he knew enough to feel offended on Colette's behalf. "Don't call her—"

"Well, that's enough for me." Zelos pushed himself to his feet and brushed the grass off his white pants. "I'm going to go see if there's anything edible over by the fire. Talk to you later, bud." With that, Zelos sauntered away, and Lloyd glared at his back

"What is with that guy?" he asked Colette, but as she had with everything else, she only continued to stare blankly at the horizon.