Author's note: The final chapter is upon us, and once again, I have no clue what reaction to expect. It could be "I knew it" or "I didn't know it". I just hope that it somehow manages to tie up this story in the best way it could. It could be a little confusing at first (or at last) but I tried my best to make it as clear as possible, and this was the end result. So, without further ado, this is it, the final chapter of the Valentine Legacy.
Frenchy: It would also be really great if I'd win a million dollars, hehe. But I like your current name.
Bloodlover: Both my parents, my aunts and uncles (and my sister) are doctors, and I've taken up a pre-med course myself, so I'm fairly acquainted with a few medical and anatomical terms. Hurts my head though. I don't watch ER, but from your review, I guess all I can say is thanks.
Chris Redfield Fan: No problem.
Hyperactive hamster of Doom: Well, I try to give my stories a good ending, oh hell, who am I kidding. Seriously though, if you don't like happy endings, I really doubt that you'd enjoy most (if not all) of my writing. But not stopping you though, I'd love to see your reaction when all of this is said and done.
Tek: Sure thing. Why'd you choose the name tek anyway?
Dragonfight: It's a little in between actually. But hey, no way do I make stories that are too sappy, that is just not me.
Hotaru: Oh, dear God no.
Chapter 10: "Heart"
The entire area was pure white, no blemish, no chipped off paint. Simply, purely, white. "Heart?" Jill walked down the lost hall, noticing her daughter sitting on a wooden chair a few feet away from her. Heart wore a red, strapless gown, making her look as beautiful as she was before the virus ate away at her body. Her mother on the other hand, wore a white gown, covering her entire body, save her hand and feet. She could have very well disappeared into the entire backdrop. "…Mom." Heart replied with a tender smile, an air of childishness that Jill had long forgotten in her daughter. It was something she last saw when Heart was trying out her first gown for spring dance.
She wanted to wrap Heart around her hands so desperately, but found that she could not move. All Jill could do was look at her daughter, who was but an arm's reach away from her. "You're alright." She could only mutter with a blissful expression, cherishing the fact that her daughter wasn't in the hospital bed anymore. "Mom…I miss you." The girl wholeheartedly told her mother, keeping her hands on her lap. "Heart…I…" she couldn't find the words. "I…miss you too." She tried, she really did, but there was one aspect, one important aspect of being a mother that was not present in her, and that was communication.
"It isn't you fault." The girl softly said, soothing Jill's confused emotions at the moment. It was as if Heart knew exactly what Jill was thinking. She was afraid. Fearful of what the truth may bring. Most people are. The truth, the legacy that she left behind for her daughter. If Heart survived, she could never have a daughter as well, since they found out that the virus would keep on coming back. "I started all of this. If I moved a little bit faster…or…ducked…then my blood wouldn't have been contaminated…" Jill stammered in reply. Up till now, all she thought of was that singular moment when a creature of utter imagination caught her off guard and ruined her future.
"Mom…you're a fighter. I know that, dad knows that…but…I can fight my own battles. I want to fight my own battles…I have to." The roles were reversed. At that time, in the compression of segmented time, Heart acted like she was the parent. She took upon herself the role of guidance.
"Heart…"
"You and dad, you two taught me what was right and wrong…granted I slipped up on a number of occasions…mom, thank you for protecting me, but…you can't hide from everything and anything out there… I want to see the world."
"It's dangerous. It's a dark place that has so many problems…"
"It also has hope! It also has…faith, dreams…love. It has an invisible heart that only a few people care for… and I want to care for it."
"…"
"You should understand mom, I don't need a guard to know each and every step I make…I need a friend, a mother in every way. I need somebody who would tell me about… that time of month…or…or tell me how lucky I am to have Mark for a boyfriend…or we could watch stupid soap operas together when we get tired from the day…"
"…I do…I do want that…I just… can't find the words…" Jill was starting to feel the warm sting of salt water affect her eyes. Her voice, her mind, it was all starting to go around in a muddle of emotions.
"You should have at least tried. I know that you aren't good with words but if you would have at least….told me I was beautiful…or…or told me that it was okay when I flunked Trig…that would have meant so much."
"Then…I…yes, Heart yes, I still love you no matter what, I don't care that you had troubles in school…I just want you back! Please…I'll be different, I'll…I'll comb your hair, take you out shopping…I'll take you to the movies late at night…just please! Don't leave me!" Jill desperately cried out to her daughter, reaching for her hand with all her might.
"I love you mom." Heart replied, still sitting in place.
"I love you too baby…I love you…I love you…"
Jill stared at the burned out fireplace, with the sun shining down on her from the great glass partition. The hymns of birds could clearly be heard from outside. She was motionless, with her mouth just hanging slightly open. Chris stood in front of her, carrying a painful expression on his face. His sullen nature matched his black shirt and pants. Like her, he didn't utter any more words. Like her, he was tired of crying. It was sunny outside, warm, with the very beauty of nature at its peak. Inside, it was cold, with the sunlight barely enough to illuminate the room. Jill hugged herself, trying desperately to keep herself warm, even though she had on her a thick, white turtleneck and a pair of brown denim pants. She was sitting near the edge of the sofa, practically frozen.
It was just seconds ago that she heard her husband's news, that their only daughter, Heart, had no other choice but to die. That they themselves had no choice but to wait. It was always a parent's nightmare to see their children pass away before they do, not just because of their love, their sweat and tears, it was also because of the possibilities. It could also be what that person, brought into the world, could have accomplished, whether good or bad. Heart, their daughter, held so much promise, had so much love, she affected each and every person around her when she didn't even know it. "Maybe we should go for a walk." Chris whispered to his wife, bending down to gently hold her hand.
The blades of grass let out soft, cracking sounds, as dew clung to their boots. Hand in hand, the two walked along the river, still silent. Jill had on a brown leather coat, while Chris had a gray denim jacket. The sun made the blades of grass, the water and trees, glow in subtlety, as if wishing to help them feel better by bombarding them with beauty. "You know…we used to have picnics here…just by the water…" Chris said, prompting flashes of their past to erupt. "Heart was barely my waist back then." Jill responded, keeping her eyes low, as if tracing her doomed child's steps.
"You know…ever since I can remember, she and Mark would be inseparable." Jill recalled, as the jovial laughter of the two children echoed in her mind. "…" Chris fell silent in hearing her boyfriend's name. "It isn't his fault, Chris." Jill said, tugging at her husband's arm.
"…How can you say that? You know he gave her the drugs." He then responded, still not being able to forgive the young man whom they lost contact with. "…This is destroying us, Chris. Blaming others…we're looking away at our own faults…"
"That's not…I know we may not be the most…God…we aren't the world's best parents Jill, but we did our jobs the way we knew how…"
"…Raising a person…Chris, what if that isn't a job?"
"…"
"She's a gift."
"…It's his fault."
"It's my fault too then. It's more my fault than any other's." Jill suddenly rebutted, catching Chris off guard. "Don't say that…" Chris said, stopping and facing her. "Chris…all of this, it started with me. With my blood." She explained to him, staring right into his eyes. "…"
"It got me thinking…what that guy said about us having no freedom…now, I completely disagree. Freedom exists, it is a small…window, something that we could accomplish in the very beginning of the day by… we are ourselves… we are all…" Jill bit her lower lip, shaking her head. "…what happened in the past doesn't make us who we are, it gives us a direction, but it doesn't mean that we'll live it…what matters is now. Looking back, Arklay… Umbrella… from Nemesis, to the operation…to the drugs…it's…hard to believe that…it's all not just one…big…"
"…Coincidence." Chris finished.
"…Design." Jill corrected. "…You're thinking that God pulled this elaborate plan to send us to our own private hells?" Her husband asked her sarcastically, not too open to the idea of a grander design. Not many people are. "…Nothing just happens, Chris. We live, we die, sure, but…do we live when we live, or die when we die?" Jill certainly had too much interaction with books. "…Even if she…she'll live on Chris." The woman whispered. "Don't give up on her." Chris responded, though he knew that he was down the same path of thought as well.
"If…this is some sort of grand plan…if there is a God, then maybe…just maybe…we have a fighting chance." He said, disobeying his own overpowering doubt. Of course, he did wish for a sign to prove him wrong, some sort of divine intervention, but he was being realistic when he immediately cornered those thoughts to the back of his head. His words came out forced, giving Jill a clear idea that in a way, he was just giving them false hope. He knew that they only had little time left to see their daughter breathing.
Mark bit his lower lip as he helped his grandmother sit down on a pew in their parish. It was relatively small, compared to most other places of worship in the surrounding area. He wore a loose, green shirt and a pair of pants that had large, childish flowers on one thigh, something that Heart sewn out of boredom. Her grandmother was awfully silent, especially since because she had complications in her Brocka's area that impeded her speech. Her stare however, said many things. "…" Mark didn't feel particularly enthusiastic about Church, especially due to the fact that his prayers weren't only unanswered, they were completely and utterly reversed.
"You're troubled again." The old woman whispered to his ear.
"What makes you say that?" Mark asked her, not in the mood for her glorified tales of righteousness and love. After all, the heart can only take somebody so far.
"The perennial scowl, the brooding, skulking…need I go on?"
"Or we can just not talk about this altogether." He quickly responded, not wanting the conversation to go any further. "It's up to you." She then replied, looking straight on at the altar.
"…" Mark crossed his hands over his chest and leaned back. "…You know Mark…it's true what was said…if you want God to heal your heart…then you have to give Him all the pieces."
"How are we doing today?" Lisa asked Heart as she sat beside her table. As always, there won't be an answer, only a slow, steady breathing that made the nurse wonder what kind of dreams she could be having, if any. Unlike before, she didn't need as much machinery around her, either a sign that one day, she would recover, or that she really has no other choice but to die. "Hmm?" Lisa looked at the ECG machine just by Heart's bed and noticed that her lifeline was rapidly moving. It was abnormal. "Get me doctor Oliviera!" she quickly shouted to a passing nurse, who took her intensity to heart.
"What is life?" The priest asked as an opening statement for his sermon. It was enough to gain Mark's attention as he leaned forward, wanting to know if there actually was a lighter side to all the hell that he is currently going through. "You may have asked yourselves…why something bad or good has happened to you. You may have often debated whether you deserve what you get from seemingly unpredictable and uncontrollable facets of life." The priest was old, but still carried himself with an air of strength and veneration that instantly drew the crowd in. "The truth is, when bad things happen to us, we go on a singular basis, meaning that all we see is the person in the mirror."
Rebecca hurried down the halls, putting on her white coat and brushing back her hair. "What's wrong?" she immediately asked, the moment she saw Lisa standing right by the door of Heart Redfield's room. "Her pulse and heart beat are racing. I don't know what's happening to her." The nurse quickly reported, prompting Rebecca to pick up her stride.
"But, friends…brothers and sisters, why don't we try to see the bigger picture in all of this? We are all taught to see ourselves through a sociological perspective. Right? How's about…we do that in our religious life as well? I mean, society teaches us that we look at ourselves from the perspective of our surroundings. Why can't we do the same about God? Why can't we try and look at ourselves from the possibly perspective, from our own limited view, of God?"
Rebecca found that a few other nurses have already gathered around the patient. "Anything?" she asked Justin, who looked at her with an estranged look on his face. "It's like…her body is getting chills." He responded, seeing as Heart's body was beginning to act like it was under severe cold. "But she's still unconscious…quick, get some water. You know what to do." She told Lisa, who instructed the others to start wiping Heart with cold towels to protect her for the incoming fire.
"We, as human beings, are so consumed with our problems, that at times, we shut everything else off. We put ourselves above others, because we believe that what we are going through, inside and out, are far worse than what others may be going through themselves. Even as a man of the cloth, I've had that challenge. I've had my doubts."
"Her heart beat isn't slowing down!" Lisa yelled over the beeping machinery and panicking staff members. "…" Rebecca placed her palm on top of Heart's chest. "Something's building up in her cardio-peritoneal cavity." She announced, sending looks of confusion from the staff. "Give me an injection, quick." The doctor ordered, opening her palm to particularly no one as she kept her gaze steady on Heart. "What do I put in it?" Lisa asked. "Nothing, just give it to me." The doctor responded.
"Ever since the renaissance, human beings have begun looking at the smaller picture. Yes, we had the right didn't we? We realized the concept of individualism, the importance of our own voice. We found our talents…and molded them into our very own special capabilities."
Rebecca plunged the needle straight into Heart's chest, and began to extract some of the mass building up inside. "Oh God." Lisa uttered under her breath, as thick, puss-colored liquid began to get taken out of Heart's chest. "What is that?" Justin asked in shock, an expression that was as evident in his face as it was in Rebecca's. "Nemesis is taking form…" she deduced in her mind.
"But it was also then that we found ourselves in the beginning of the road to self-destruction…the first stage in which humanity consciously puts aside the theological world in favor of the new industrialized one. It isn't necessarily bad. Well, it isn't necessarily good either. You see, with the dawn of individualism, we had our eyes set on ourselves, focused on ourselves, that in our mind, everything else revolves around us… especially to the decisions we make."
Lisa watched in horror as the liquid became so dense that it broke out of the injection capsule, sending small shards of glass flying everywhere. As they were, silence and shock prevailed in the room, as Rebecca held the broken end of the injection in her hand. "…She's burning up…she's burning up!" Justin suddenly shouted, breaking the silence in the muted room. "Get more water over her…Lisa, call the Redfields…tell them we have a situation."
"The truth is…we are all interconnected to each other, with a web of thought. You may not know who it is sitting beside you right now, but you do know that he or she shares with you a common faith. You may also share a common love for movies or poetry. You don't know it, but you may share more things, aspects, in common with… a stranger than with somebody you trust completely."
Jill and Chris practically jumped off their seats the moment the latter parked their BMW in front of the hospital. Genuine fear ran through their systems as they raced past the electronic, sliding doors, with only the single, resounding thought of their daughter lodged into their minds. "This thing still wants her alive." Rebecca announced to the staff as they fought to keep her in the realm of the living. "It's feeding off of her." Jill and Chris burst through the double-doors and found themselves in the hallway where they kept their daughter. "Heart!!!" Jill screamed at the top of her lungs as she ran ahead at full speed.
"What I'm saying is, that everyone around us, all of us, we each have our story. We each have our own drama, our own personal conflict that deserves a spot in primetime television…but we must all realize, that with all our stories, we can achieve something bigger. Something on a grander scale. And what this is, is the plan of God, the plan that He bestowed on each of us."
Mark felt his pocket vibrate, and slowly took out his cell phone. He glanced down, and opened the message that he had just received. His grandmother turned to see his face, noticing the shocked expression etched on her grandson. "Grandma…I…" he stuttered, not able to form a coherent thought or sentence. Without another word, he stood up and hurriedly exited the church, much to her grandmother's surprise. The moment he stepped out of the double doors, he began to sprint for the hospital as fast as he could.
"But…do we abide by destiny? How do we know if we're living the way we want? How de we know that all our lives aren't just going to be played out until we die? How de we know that we are free to use the gift of choice? I mean, if God had us all set out to do specific roles…roles that we cannot avoid…why then do we do what we do? Why not just let His choices carry us for the rest of our lives? If it's unavoidable…why fight it?"
Jill rushed right into the room, but was pulled back by her husband. No words were exchanged, no questions, as they watched the hospital crew reconnect Heart to numerous cardiographs and life support machines. Jill's mind flashed back to her faux conversation with her daughter, wondering of those words, fearing that those words would be indeed their last goodbye. From inside, Rebecca gave them a grave look, signaling the dire situation.
"We have all been given the gift of choice, and it is these our choices that…in the end, determine who we are…what we are. Our worth as human beings…our worth to the eyes of God. You see, we can never, ever know if we really do have the power of freedom in our hands. Because if we did, would we be capable of using it well?"
Mark hurried up to Heart's room, stopping when he found Jill and Chris standing outside, watching as the fight for their daughter's life kept on. "…" He had no idea what to say as Chris' gaze met his own. In that instant, he saw every emotion there was in his heart, through his eyes. Pain, confusion, anger, blame, interwoven into an axe that could cut anything in half. For a moment, Mark felt that going further on would result in getting his face smashed in all over again, but it was in the air of sorrow that he realized that notion was a false one. "…It's all gravitating towards her heart." Rebecca reported to the couple, words that Mark easily heard as well.
"A transplant." Lisa suggested, catching everyone's attention. "If it's all moving toward her heart…then if we do a transplant…"
"She could be saved." Rebecca finished; words that made Jill and Chris' hearts stop beating. There it was, the chance of survival. "But there aren't any heart transplants…all the donors' organs have been reserved for other cases." The doctor then stated, unknowingly stabbing knives right through the couple's emotional stability. "…" Mark shuffled forward, once again feeling like he was just a shadow in the midst of stars. "…When you want the lord to fix your heart…then you have to give Him all the pieces…" the haunting words suddenly came back to his mind, and in an instant, the choice came to him. "…Use…mine." He said weakly at first, catching no one's attention.
"There has to be something…!" Jill protested. "She's dying right now, there are others who aren't!" she argued, pushing forward. "There are legal implications!" Rebecca rebutted.
"Use…mine. Use mine!" Mark suddenly yelled, charging into the room, only to be held back by Justin. Rebecca shook her head in shock as she watched the teenager struggle against the much bigger man.
"Please! This is my fault, let me save her!" he cried in anguish, tearing everyone apart. "…Get him out of here." Rebecca softly ordered, raising a litany of protests from the young man. "No! Please let me help her!" he yelled over and over. "Get him out of here!" Rebecca ordered once again, as Justin was able to push Mark away.
"…When it all comes down to it…we…humans…in our imperfection, in our…selfishness…we have no right to possess this gift of freedom. Don't get me wrong, I'm firm in the belief that God have us the power of choice, and in it the power of freedom…and in it came the best and worst things from people. With it came sin…lust, avarice, gluttony, envy…"
"What is this?" a young police officer asked as he noticed the commotion from the other end of the hall. "…Please get him out of here." Justin instructed. "He's disturbing the…operation." He said, and in glance at the hysterical young man, the African American officer agreed. "No! No!" his voice echoed throughout the halls, catching everyone's attention to their situation. "…Mark…" Jill felt for him, but as always, found it difficult to put her emotions into words.
"But then again…there is charity…generosity, selflessness…most of all…sacrifice."
"What the…?" the officer didn't notice how fast the young man was. Mark turned, grabbed the policeman's handgun, and promptly pushed him right into Chris and Jill's direction, causing bystanders to scream in shock. Mark aimed the handgun at them, forcing them to keep their distance. "Please…let me help her…" he pleaded, his face in as much anguish as Jill and Chris. "Mark…think about this…" Chris tried to reason, inching forward. "…" Mark didn't budge, he knew in his heart that Chris wasn't entirely disagreeing with his motive of sacrifice. "…Tell her I love her for me…please?" Mark asked weakly, and suddenly placed the barrel right beside his temple. "No!"
"How do we know if we're in the right path or not? Are we even supposed to know? I have thought about it for weeks on end, and honestly, I am stumped. But one thing I do agree with wholeheartedly…though it may not be the postulate of life itself…it certainly does have its merit. And that is…to quote a tagline…when it is real…when it is right…then do not let anything stand in your way. No matter what. Fight for what you believe in."
Mark closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, readying himself for the end of the line. "No." Chris suddenly tackled Mark down before he could kill himself, causing the young man to let loose a stray shot that thankfully didn't hit anybody. The young man felt all the air get sucked out of his system as he fell down, with Chris right on top of him. After a second, he opened his eyes, and once again, met the older man's stare right into his own. "No." he reiterated in a low voice.
It was then, that the siren-like wail of a flat-line permeated the walls. No one moved a muscle, as Chris stared right at Mark, both of whom had faces of muted, yet anticipated disbelief. "CPR! Now!" they could hear Rebecca order, but the sound was like a distorted wail from an indiscernible distance. "Don't die on me Heart…please!" the doctor's words were loud, but yet unheard, as the young girl slipped away into the next world. It was then that the police officer lifted Chris off of Mark, who still held the handgun. All of them had defeated expressions on their faces. Chris turned to see his wife mechanically walking inside the room, right to their daughter's bed, and decided not to join her.
Rebecca ordered everyone to leave, along with her, each disappointed and heartbroken at the outcome of the tale. "…That was very brave of you." She complemented Mark as she left, words that never found their center amidst the tragedy. Lisa held Mark's shoulder, and mouthed the words of an apology, before she left. Mark was still stuck in a state of silent confusion. He turned and saw the officer shake his head and walk away, clearly one who saw many travesties in his life.
Heart's eyes opened, and she stared directly into her mother's eyes. "It's okay." She whispered softly. "…" Jill shook her head and covered her mouth with her hand. Every moment she shared with her daughter, every stolen laugh, each priceless tear, everything came back to her in a flash. That was enough to make her break down in agony as she looked onto the completely covered body of Heart. Chris embraced her from behind, but he knew full well that it would never be enough to comfort his wife, nor him. Perhaps only time could heal their wounds. Softly, slowly, their muffled cries echoed into each persons' heart. "She's gone." Jill uttered as she cried.
"She's gone."
The End
Author's note: I actually wanted Mark to die, and heart to live, but I realized how much of a cliché that sacrifice "oh, use my organ" thing is, so in the end I scrapped it for a more…well, sad ending. Jill's conversations with Heart (even though she was in a coma all along) could either an angel's or her very own conscience, I'd rather let you readers decide which one it is. I had a great time writing this, and I hope you felt the same reading it. (Well, I mean in the entirety of the story, I don't think I enjoy killing people…) For my next story…I'm thinking about using homosexuality and bigotry as the main theme. I hope I don't pull any strings with that one. Okay, till next time. –Karl