"Hey."

There was no response.

"You scared me," I continued, tugging at a string on my hoodie, "I thought I lost you."

The respirator clicked and hissed nearby. I shuffled restlessly in my little chair.

"You really shouldn't just disappear like that. Though I guess now we're even for what happened in France."

I finally looked at her. Miranda. Or at least, what was left, lying in the hospital bed. Too still. Too colorless compared to the vivacious spirit that had been by my side only just yesterday.

Tears were stinging. I blinked them away.

"You better still be in there or I'm going to kill you," I chastised aloud to the empty room before muttering, "Bad joke? Too soon? Not sure when I can't see you rolling your eyes at me."

The silence was getting to me.

I hesitantly leaned forward and gently rested my elbows on the bed. The tube leading to her mask and the line to the IV bag embedded in her arm made her look all the more fragile.

"I'm afraid this means we're running out of time," I murmured softly, "I'm out of ideas, Miranda. I know you said clearing your name for the girls is what matters, but what about you? That's not fair, no matter what everyone else in this stupid city thinks. You don't deserve this."

I swallowed and screwed my eyes closed.

"Even I don't deserve this. I left so I wouldn't get my heart broken, but here we are."

The monitor beeped occasionally in the quiet that followed. Miranda's heartbeat.

My eyes slowly slid open. The permanent stillness remained. I had never known an empty room to be so crushingly heavy.

"What am I going to do?" I whispered.

I stared hopelessly at my ex-boss. The ghost that haunted me. The witty woman that had become my friend. The devil that had stolen my heart.

Most of Miranda's face was covered by the respirator. I watched the unmoving eyelids. Her hair was even more flat and disheveled than a few days ago.

I stood up from the chair and reached out with one hand. My fingers gently brushed back the loose strands of hair, smoothing them until her white locks were at least swept back and neat.

There. That was more befitting of a fashion queen.

Still standing, I looked down to where I had leaned on the bed with my other hand. My fingers almost touched her hand laying on the covers.

"Maybe I should bail on my plans with Nigel tonight," I thought aloud.

I spread my thumb out. It touched the tip of her finger.

Miranda's heartbeat still beeped along. Slow, but steady.

She was still alive.

I had to keep going.

I chuckled lightly, looking back up at her face.

"I know, I know, I can't keep quitting and running away from my problems," I muttered, "I'm only going for research. Maybe something will jog my memory, something I've missed."

My thumb gently moved over her knuckle once.

"Hold on for me a little longer."

This time, when I left her, it didn't feel like running away.