She's having such a lovely time.

Her heart feels weightless and her body free, light and dreamy music making waves through her body. It's not quite classical, but yet it's not quite close to anything else she's heard before. The way it makes her limbs sway and explode in a flurry of perfect rhythm is something indescribable. And as she feels the music, her body moves along with it. There is no thinking, no planning, just feeling. It's the beauty of silent white snow and the elegance of a deer stopping to feed and the energy of a flitting songbird all in one package of seamless movement.

Abigail pirouettes and leaps and her feet hit the stage. She can't see them, but she can feel the anticipation in her audience's light gasping as she flits from one side of the stage to the other. She just barely has time to take in the scenery; blinding lights on one side and the bright orange-yellow of a painted sunset behind her. There's blackened silhouettes of trees, their winding branches seeming to mimic the line of her arms as they sway to the angelic music.

It's not until she's dipped herself a bit too far back that she realizes that she's not alone in this dance. Familiar arms circle around her waist, pulling her back up into the realm of orange sunsets. She grins upon feeling that touch, so electric and so close, and exults in the way that suddenly, her movement feels complete.

Sammy smiles back at her and continues their dance, the wind carrying her flitting songbird. He's grand, better than she's ever seen him dance. The feeling of having him lift her and twirl her in this dance of two is familiar, and yet like nothing she's ever felt before. They're connected, mind and body. When she feels the music calling for a lift he's already put her back on the ground. When he's not captivated in their dance he's enraptured in her, like there's not another care in the world.

The music is joined by a harsher, bell-like sound then, causing the dancers to stop in their tracks. Sammy puts his hands to his ears and backs away from her, disappearing into the swaying silhouettes and the orange sunset. Irritation fills this dream world. The ringing continues and the angel music stops. Abigail attempts a pirouette, hoping to will the beautiful sounds and electric feelings back into the stage. She's unsuccessful, and soon she feels her own silhouette backing into the now less-brilliant sunset.

The ringing stops.

Abigail rolls over in bed, groaning and lifting her mask from her eyes. She stretches reluctantly to her bedside table, where her phone is now resting silently. Just as her fingers grasp at the firm rubber of her case her phone begins its ringing once more. She fumbles for the green button and holds the phone to her ear while murmuring a sleepy and questioning greeting.

It's then that she's met with a horrible déjà vu.

"Abigail it's Tali, Sammy's mum. They don't know what's going on right now, why he's reacting the way he is. They asked me to come in as soon as I could. This could be it."

Silence. She can hear the rapid start of a car, the nervous breathing of his mother on the other line. She doesn't know what to say or do, she just listens. Sitting up, Abigail's met with the abrupt darkness of the night, the moon's faint glow just barely tracing the shadows of she and Grace's things. She stares, memorizing those outlines as she listens to the faint breathing on the other side of the phone. A numbing tingling takes over her face, crawling along her cheeks and the bridge of her nose and catching the breath in her throat. It travels rapidly down her neck and along her arms, prickling each individual digit until she can't move them as well. The bubbling, boiling sensations rolls along her stomach, tickles her thighs, and settles into every last bone and ligament until the room becomes fuzzy and light and she can't see those moonlit shapes anymore.

"Abigail…Abigail, can you hear me?" Her heaving breaths are the only thing keeping her awake in this moment. She can just barely make out the sound of Sammy's mum's voice, light and frantic, attempting to coach her over the phone. "Just breathe in and out. Count to five, it's alright."

"I can't…I don't…"

"Meet me by the front entrance of your dorm, I'm driving over there now."

Abigail's sitting on the curb when the white SUV rolls up. She's shock-still, even when Tali comes out of the car to urge her into her seat. She murmurs words that go through Abigail's ears, but that her brain is unable to separate from the white noise from her still-tingling form. She's buckled in and the car stars back up again, veering through the roads at rapid-fire speeds and cruising through just-barely-red lights. Tali emits a few swears that Abigail pretends not to hear, along with the forced bouts of conversation she tries to initiate. When the younger doesn't respond Sammy's mother simply stares at the road ahead, the pair willing dotted lines and street signs would lead them to a happy ending.

"Where the hell is my son?!" Thin, mousey Tali is now a woman of fury, barging into the hospital and marching to the front desk with more volume Abigail's ever heard. She follows behind his mother quickly now, feeling the adrenaline kick in at the sound of wheels speeding across the linoleum flooring. She does not speak, only listens as Sammy's mother argues with the receptionist until they're told to take a seat, to which more arguing ensues. This time, it is the younger girl who puts her hand on Tali's shoulder, leading her away from reception and into a pair of empty metal chairs.

"They said we needed to say goodbye!" His mother is livid now, and Abigail half expects her to phone Sammy's father and sue the hospital right then and there. But another touch to Tali's shoulder and she levels out, putting her head in her hands while leaning into Abigail's comfort.

"It's a good thing they won't let us back. It means they're working hard enough to keep him alive." The affirmation feels cheap, and Abigail doesn't even believe herself when the words leave her own lips, but Tali nods anyway. At this point, comfort comes from being in the dark of the situation. "Did they tell you what had happened?"

"Not much," The mother shakes her head in reply, sighing. "Just a complication…a lot of medical terms I couldn't understand."

There's a bout of silence, an agreement that nothing more should be said about the fate of the boy who'd connected them. The topic was too bleak, too upsetting for the early morning hour in the white linoleum hell-hole they'd called home for the past three months. Abigail feels the exhaustion from her earlier bout of panic finally set in, and she shifts around in her seat to get more comfortable. No longer are her limbs tingling, but throbbing from exhaustion. The weight of the situation at hand catches up to her all at once. All she can manage to do is stare at the front of a blue foldaway chair in her line of vision, her eyes focusing on a grotesque stain (from what she can't quite put her finger on-nor does she want to).

"Abigail," Tali's hushed voice breaks her from her stare, and she turns to face the emotionally battered woman, the same scars of exhaustion written in her eyes. "I just wanted to thank you for coming…for being here, all the time. My son is very lucky to love you."

She wanted to cry. She felt the tears well up in her eyes; an impenetrable dam of stubbornness that would not let them track her cheeks. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, one million responses wanting to fly out all at once.

I've never loved anyone harder. Thank you for calling me. It means a lot that you care. I don't know if I'll be able to live if he's gone.

Abigail sucks her words back in, swallowing them with the lump in her throat. Now, she tells herself, is not the time for questions like that. Instead she finds Tali's hand, small and slight like the woman herself, and rests her own on top of it. When Sammy's eyes-a near replicate in his mother's head-meet Abigail's she manages a slight smile of reassurance. If her deep brown eyes could convey a thought, it would be this; somehow, we'll be alright.

….

It's as if no time at all has passed when Abigail's woken from her sleep. For a moment, before she opens her eyes to the harsh white lights around her, she nearly believes that this night truly was the nightmare she'd thought before drifting off. But then Tali's voice rattles her hope and she stirs, opening her eyes rapidly and sitting up.

"We can see him now, if you'd like."

Abigail feels the immediate tug of her heart toward that door but her body is rooted in place. It's a tug-of-war that magnetizes her body to the chair; frozen and unwilling to move. She doesn't want to see what's behind that door-if he's any worse than that night then she's afraid she just might lose it. But Sammy's mum looks on at her in such a doting, soothing way that her legs begin to move before she can even control them.

As they walk the doctor briefs them on everything that's happened; wrong patient, different charts, mix-up… She doesn't hear any of it over the thumping of her own heart. When they arrive Sammy's father is standing in the doorway, his shoulders tensed to his cheeks and his finger waving in a doctor's face. Tali rushes up to meet him, leaving Abigail and her slow pace to place both her hands on his shoulders. She mutters something Abigail can't hear, then gestures in the direction of the hallway. He nods and takes a long, drawn-out breath and motions for the doctor to follow him.

"You do know that I'm a doctor, right?" He glances her way-his features only slightly apologetic-before rushing down the hall, the jittery, blue-clad man at his heels.

After she entered the room, she promptly closed her eyes and turned around again.

"I can't do this." Abigail manages to choke the words out before burying her face in her hands. Tali catches her, holding her while rubbing large circles on her back. The tingling begins again and she lets it take over, encasing her in numbness.

"Abigail, sweetheart, it's alright. Everything's fine, they just had a little mix-up."

She doesn't understand until she hears her name echoing through the white halls. She resurfaces from Tali's arms and whips her head around, looking through the doorway to his room. Her name is called again and she's flying, racing rapidly until she collides with the edge of his bed. Before Sammy can say another word she's grabbed both sides of his face, kissing his lips with all of the life she has left in her. His lips turn up against hers and he chuckles, bringing his own hands to her face and pulling away.

"What did I do to deserve this greeting?" Always humorous, Sammy flashes his teeth in a wide grin. "I mean, besides getting some other guy's surgery."

This earns him a swift smack on his upper arm. Abigail fervently wipes the tears from her eyes, huffing at him in response.

"I thought you were dead!"

"Ah, can't get rid of me that easily." She rolls her eyes then, but the slight glimmering of her eyes lets him know that she's not really irritated with him. He scoots over in his bed, patting the empty space so that she'll occupy it. Abigail complies, immediately resting her head on his shoulder.

It's a scene that makes Sammy's mother smile; the way Abigail's voice becomes hushed when she talks to Sammy, the way he plays with her hair as he recounts his story…her heart immediately feels full. Tali stands, just for a moment, in an attempt to capture the scene in her memory. Never has she seen her son look so happy, so complete. But it feels like intruding, looking upon this moment, and she shuts the door and departs to find her husband.

Although she's glad for the moment, she knows that Dr. Lieberman is just one curse word away from filing a law-suit.