AN: I have no actual experience with this sort of scenario, so forgive me if it doesn't seem realistic.

--

Setting up Soup Kitchens

I saw him when I was sitting on the steps of the hospital smoking. Not sure what brand- I had gotten the cig from some random old guy who had been sitting outside earlier. A nurse had scolded him when she found him, and wheeled him back in the building a few minutes before. Surprisingly, it had the cool taste of menthol. I had been expecting some sort of manly cigarette- Marlboro, perhaps, or Winston.

The confidence he used to wear like his aviator hat seemed frayed. I was shocked to see the trademark hat and goggle duo gone. Sometimes it was hard to remember how old everyone was now; it felt like an eternity and nothing since I had last talked to everyone from Whispering Rock. Instead, he wore an equally stand-outish scarf that had to be seven feet long and striped in a million shades of green, as well as a monster of a trench coat. In it, he looked peaked- the hugeness made him look even skinner, and the rich brown color made his skin look ash colored. Despite the winter wear, he was still shaking slightly. Or it might've been due to sleep deprivation; the bags under his eyes looked like plums.

"Raz." Not a question, but a simple acknowledgment. I didn't have much to say to the recently world acclaimed psychonaut. I could picture it now: something like "Congratulations", then, "Thanks. What have you been doing?" How would I respond? "Oh, nothing much, just screwing my brain and lungs to bits"?

"Hey- Crystal?" His eyebrows went up questioningly before melting into a familiar half-grin. "Hey, what's up? Still cheering?" he asked jokingly.

I shook my head, knocking an inch of ash off my cig and taking another drag. "Not anymore," and the smoke trail burst into nothing as it hit the cold air.

"Not you too—" What? How—But things cleared as he continued. "It's like bein' a psychonaut and smoking go together. There are filled ashtrays in every conference room." He rolled his eyes. "Who wants their lungs to look like rotting meat?"

"Some great imagery there." I blew a puff of smoke at him with a mischief I didn't feel.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, waving away the smoke with exaggerated sweeps. "Secondhand smoke is just as bad."

"Worst, if you believe health teachers. So…" I paused, trying to think of a decent topic. "How's Lili? Are you two still together?"

"I couldn't say…" He shrugged and leaned against the railing of the stairs before pulling back quickly as the ice started melting on his coat. "She's on some top secret mission right now. All I know is that she's probably off -continent."

"And…?"

"And…?" His eyebrows furrowed, then- "Oh, no. Haven't been for years… I think she's dating some French guy now. Figures." He chuckled, and I nodded. He was obviously over it; they had been ten at the time after all. It was a silly thing to bring up, really.

"What about you?"

"No one at the moment," and a wide grin. "Where's Clem?"

"Clem?"

"You two were always together," he explained. "I figured you would know what he's up to."

"Oh." Of course. "He's… in the hospital." I snubbed out the cigarette butt after getting the first bitter taste of filter, letting it fall into the snow.

"Really?" Raz asked, eyes widening. "Why? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he should be." I hope. "I've got to go in."

"I'm here to see someone too," and I saw a lump in his coat I had missed before. From the shape, I guessed it was probably a bouquet of some kind he was protecting from the cold.

"Well come on in." I gestured towards the door before leading the way in.

Our shoes made uneven squeaks on the tile. I walked on without bothering to muffle the noise; I knew most of the nurses were too busy working or not caring to notice. Raz, however, seemed to tiptoe along in his boots, and it wasn't until I realized that I didn't hear the weird shuffle squeak that he wasn't following anymore.

Where'd he go? Looking behind me, I saw him conversing with a passing nurse who had pulled a small pamphlet from her pocket. Now why is he asking directions? The hospital isn't that hard to navigate.

Some of us aren't as problem riddled, I reminded myself with a mental headshake as Raz came back down the hall, giving the nurse a cheerful wave.

"She's in the Plath ward," he said as explanation, still holding the folded map. "The nurse said that was on the left…?"

I nodded. "Burns?"

"Huh?"

"The girl- did she get burnt?"

He didn't comment on my assumption, which meant it had to be true. "Yeah…"

"Pretty bad to be in Plath," I said conversationally, guiding him down the identical halls; although he still looked cheerful, Raz's eyes seemed to be looking at the end of the hall, and I could tell he was totally out of it. Whatever had happened to the girl had to be serious. "If the burn isn't too bad, they just send you over to get it cleaned and get a bag of antibiotic cream and gauze." I knew that well; after I had accumulated four of the giant tubs I decided to stop coming- other people needed the medicine more than I did.

He nodded absent-mindedly, and I shrugged to myself and kept pace beside him. The atmosphere, clean , calm, and sterile, was comforting. Yeah, people died everyday, but at least you could count on the sheets being clean and the food being bad.

One time I was here, a roommate of mine died, and I woke up to this swarm of doctors and nurses, then a gaggle of crying family members came in right after. It was depressing to watch; they didn't know that she had wanted to die. That the IV hadn't come out and spilled AB blood all over the sheets because of the nurse's neglect. But the room nurse didn't let me say anything, even do anything, really, so the family continued to mourn and accuse the RN and she was fired a week later. But still, everything was kept neat and orderly, and the next day it was like nothing had ever happened.

And I had befriended other patients during visits and watch them die too. Often suicide attempts, but also a mother with cancer, a boy from kidney failure. But they all looked so calm despite the sadness they left behind. Sometimes, when I knew someone was about to die, I'd sit by them and talk. As the girls pulled out IVs and monitors in front of me, daring me to come over and set things right, I would start chatting. I learned more about them in the hours or minutes than I've learned about people I've known practically forever. Sometimes they'd decide to live, and I'd help them plug the equipment back in, or ring for the RN. Other times they were determined to die, and I'd keep a close watch. And always, when they exhaled their last breath, it seemed as though their stress, all their troubles were flying away on that breath and their faces would slacken into a tranquil smile. And then I straightened their sheets and arranged their arms neatly- it made things easier for their family- then went to pretend I was asleep when the RN came back in. The newer ones often barely stifled shrieks; the older ones knew that it was their duty to keep calm, though it wasn't uncommon to see traces of tears in their eyes when they peeked around the corner to see if they would have to tell me what happened. Always, the next day they told me that my roommate had gone home. Heavenly was the missing word.

Raz stopped outside a room, and I almost ran into him. "This is it." He knocked lightly on the door twice before pulling a bouquet of brightly dyed daisies from under his coat. There were a few roses scattered in as well- yellow. Somehow, I doubted the sentiment. He entered the room, and I followed him when he didn't protest.

He placed the bouquet on the side table of the single bed in the room and pulled a tissue paper wrapped object from his bag- a vase. As he messed with the flowers, glancing occasionally at the still figure in the bed, a nurse came in, all smiles.

"Crystal? I thought you would've had enough of the hospital by now!" she said perkily. Going over to the white board hanging on the wall, she wrote "Kelsey" next to "Room Nurse," drawing a huge smiley face with the red marker. Done, she turned to her patient, picking up the clipboard hanging at the end of the bed. "Poor Miss Bubai; looks like she's been in a real mess."

Kitty? I looked beyond Kelsey's hovering figure to where an Asian girl- well, woman, was lying. Her head was wrapped snugly, one eye covered with a patch while the eyelashes of the other cast shadows on the white gauze. One of her arms was laying on top of the sheets, and the bandages were wrapped all the way down to her wrist, the back of her hand showing a large patch of almost healed skin. Despite the miserable condition she was in, her long nails were painted a shocking fuchsia, only one slightly chipped. I smiled; That's Kitty for you.

Raz had finally given up on the daisies and let Kelsey take over after she had made sure Kitty didn't need anything. With nothing else to do, he pulled a chair over from the wall, looking lost as he sat down, chin propped up with his fists.

I fiddled with my bracelet, the ragged pink and green threads threatening to come untied. After Kelsey left, leaving the vase filled with daisies and water on the table, the quiet grew so loud that I would've left, except Raz looked so down that I ended up sitting in the other chair.

"What happened?" I finally asked. He looked over, seeming surprised that I was still there.

"It's classified," he said sharply, his breath seeming to push out the sentence in one burst. "'Hey, Kitty had a bit of trouble with a pyrokinetic- you wanna know the location of the hospital?' Sometimes…" But he didn't finish his sentence, his eyes drifting back to Kitty, whose only movement was the rise and fall of her chest. He sank back down into his chair, and I thought he might not move again. The atmosphere was sinking onto my skull with a dull weight, and the twists of worry coming from Raz only made things worse. Even the huge sheets of light sliding over the linoleum didn't help.

"Well, I hope Kitty will be okay," I remarked awkwardly, standing up. With a last glance, I left the room, the stillness dropping off as I shut the door behind me and began walking down the hall towards a too familiar destination.

It was really weird to see her lying there, not only because she was injured as hell, but because the Kitty I knew was the kid who wore turquoise lipstick and would never stoop to raise her hand straight in the air when asking a question in class. She wore orange and purple, and Hello Kitty and socks that no sane person could claim were matching. She was snobby and manipulative, winding people around her manicured fingers while making friendship bracelets that no one would ever wear. At that time I was too busy trying to cheer everyone up, too busy trying to be the patch of sunlight that made the silver linings of clouds glitter so others could see them to admit it- at least when Clem and I weren't trying some stupid stunt to get ourselves killed- but for a nine year old, Kitty was a bitch.

But I wasn't oblivious; when the new True Psychic Tales comics came out, I always flipped through them- I knew that they were real unlike most of the kiddies begging their mother to buy them and often more accurate than the news which kept mum on the issue of psychics. Raz had been in them for ages and usually was billed as the main character along side Secret Agent Sasha Nein and the Mental Minx- kids loved his offbeat humor and idealism. What more could you want from a hero? However, as of late, the rest of the Whispering Rock crew was filtering in too. And, with them, Kitty was there too, drawn up in Harajuku styles that managed to be stylish and clashing at the same time. Just as any psychonaut, she saved senator's brains and foiled evil villains planning to rid the world of normal people, or psychics, or both. But she also TK-ed kids out of burning buildings, persuaded terrified little kiddies to come with her to learn why the hell the cat was on fire when there wasn't a lit candle in the house, and reassured parents they where they were going, their children would be able to fulfill their potential and reach for the treetops- literally. Sometimes I had to look for a trademark Hello Kitty article of clothing to tell her apart from Milla. I don't know what caused the flip in her personality, but it was obvious that she had grown up and moved on to do "bigger and better" things, just as she always wanted.

The Kitty in the hospital room was now a Psychonaut and traveled around the world on important missions as we had all dreamed we would someday.

--

Clem was surrounded by monitors and an IV. Nestled in the bed, he looked as weak as he's ever been. I reached out, smoothing down a flyaway piece of hair. It was getting long; I'd have to cut it when he got released. His skin, usually tan even in the winter, was specter pale except the deep circles under his eyes. He practically blended in with the stark white sheets. I remembered one time, when we went out to walk around town and was outside so long that he got a sunburn so bad that any exposed skin turned a violent scarlet. I always keep an aloe plant at home because Milla told me once that it was good for treating burns. But, by the time I had finished doctoring him up, the aloe plant was down to its roots, and I had to go buy a new one. I don't know why I thought of that then; maybe it was because he was so white, and then his skin was amazingly red.

"Hey, Crystal." Clem looked up at me with tired eyes, moving his arm slowly back and forth to gauge how needled up he was. "Well, that was stupid. Just one?"

"Just one," I replied wryly, holding his hand down with mine.

"I'm not that self-destructive," he protested, wriggling his fingers, but I grasped it firmly.

"You aren't proving it."

"Well, you can't say anything."

"I know," I replied with a grin, but didn't let go. He stopped moving, letting his eyes close. We sat there in silence for a while, and I couldn't be quite certain that he wasn't asleep when I asked. "Why'd you do it?"

"Hymm…?"

"You promised you wouldn't anymore," I said quietly. "You swore."

His eyes opened again; half-lidded, his gaze settled on the corner between the wall and the ceiling. "I dunno… I never know." A pause. "Was it bad?"

"Not really." I clasped my hand over the one still holding Clem's. "I got home early, so it'd hadn't been too long, but…" I remembered coming home to find Clem lying on the bed like a stuffed doll, aspirin bottle fallen on the ground empty like in some soap opera. Trying to call 911 without pressing the wrong buttons 'cause I was so scared… Terrified. Just thinking of it, my hands were trembling, and Clem grasped them weakly with an icy grip.

"Don't do it again," I said in the most authoritative tone I could muster. Then, a bit calmer. "Let's stay out of here from now on, okay?"

"Yeah, let's." He closed his eyes, and in a few minutes he actually fell asleep. I rearranged our hands so mine were surrounding his unbearably cold ones. It didn't help much since mine were too small, but it had to be better than nothing; I was about convinced that they were what were causing my shakes, they were so cold.

I don't know why things are the way they are. I can watch someone slipping out of life, and be assured that they'd be calmer soon, and probably happier. And I'm not afraid of the grim reaper's visit; sometimes… a lot of times I think I'd prefer death to life. But when it comes to Clem's life, I just can't help but to clutch onto it. Even if he was on his stomach squirming, begging me to let him go, I don't think I could bring myself to do the right thing--

And he has tremendous potential-- he's always been so kind and caring. I know he could go on to do something great, like setting up soup kitchens or helping children. I don't know.

And… and even if he never does, I don't think it'd change a thing.

I promised I'd stay here with him.

And he promised too.