The Gift of Life, Chapter 5

»~~*~~«

As Quistis and Seifer's hands met, her heart fluttered. Never before had she been dependent on anyone. Now her life rested in the hands of Seifer, of all people. It was all quite ironic.

When she released his hand, a lazy smirk played across his lips. "Guess this means I can rest easy now." There was no hint of sarcasm in his tone; in fact, she could sense some gratitude, which took her somewhat aback. "Same here," she stuttered in response, with a small, awkward smile.

She stood, and checked the machines that monitored his vital stats. She made sure the clip on his index finger was secure, and checked the monitor behind him. His heartbeat was very irregular, which worried her. His blood pressure was also quite low. Her brow creased as she intently watched the humming machines. "Hmm… you've definitely got arrhythmia; that and a low blood pressure. Good thing we decided to admit you." She removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

Seifer mumbled something under his breath, and Quistis glanced over to him. "Excuse me-" Her comment was cut short when she noticed that Seifer was sound asleep. His visage was completely placid, and he occasionally mumbled incoherently.

Quistis sighed, and brought the sheets up over Seifer's upper body, up to his neck. "Good night, Tristan," she said. It felt foreign to call him that, but she would have to get used to it.

She turned the television off, and flipped the light switch, throwing the room into darkness. A beam of moonlight shined through the blinds, casting illumination over Seifer's scar. She began to walk away, but something compelled her to look back.

That face…

It was the most peaceful she had ever seen him. His life had been a living Hell for so long, but one couldn't tell by looking at his serene sleeping form. Almost spellbound, she returned to Seifer's side, and poised her fingers over the scar on his forehead. Just before her fingertips contacted his skin, she pulled back. Without looking back, she exited the room.

»~~*~~«

After several more hours of rounds, and a few cups of coffee, Quistis was due to check back in on Seifer. She didn't mind the constant monitoring, though; in fact, she began to hum the same song from her previous encounter with him.

As before, she knocked on the door gently, then entered. "Tristan?" she quietly asked. In the scarce moonlight, shadows obscured her vision. But something wasn't right.

Oh, Hyne.

He's not here.

Closing the door behind her, she turned on the light, only to verify her observation. All that remained of him were the rumpled bedsheets. Quistis placed her hand on the bedspread.

It was still warm.

He couldn't have gotten far; I need to find him now!

She rushed out of the room and shut the door behind her. There were so many twisted halls and corridors in this wing of the hospital alone, never mind the adjacent children's wing, or the floors below.

Suddenly, she saw a flutter of movement in her peripheral vision. Without thinking, she sprinted down the hall, in hot pursuit of the source of movement. As she rounded the corner, she picked up speed.

She spotted the person directly in front of her, covered in shadows. "Hey!" she hissed. "Why aren't you in your room, Mr. Lockheart?"

"Goodness! Don't you go scarin' me like that, girl! And who is this… Mr. Lockheart?"

Quistis' smug smirk dissolved into a shocked expression, her mouth forming an o. Eyes wide, she covered her mouth with her hand and began to apologize profusely. "Oh, Daisy, I'm so sorry! I thought you were…" she stopped in mid-sentence. If Daisy found out that one of Quistis' patients escaped, she'd tell the entire floor of nurses, and they'd all give her a hard time; she didn't need any of her straitlaced coworkers to do her job for her.

"Never mind, I was just in a hurry. It won't happen again!" she said, with a nervous smile.

Daisy stood in front of the young woman, her arms akimbo. She had a warm smile upon her face, and the crow's feet that graced the sides of her eyes crinkled; she chuckled and replied, "It's all right, Quistis. Just don't try to give me another heart attack, you hear?" Clapping her gently on the shoulder, Daisy turned around and continued on her own nightly rounds.

Quistis' raging heartbeat subsided at hearing Daisy's comforting tone of voice, but her stomach sank when she realized that Seifer was still missing.

She turned on her heel, straightened the nurse's cap upon her head, and continued from where she came from.

You can run, but you can't hide from me, smartass… she thought, as she resumed a brisk pace down the hall.

»~~*~~«

Seifer smoothly sauntered down the hallway, away from that infernal hospital room. He just couldn't stand the harsh whiteness of the walls, and he absolutely despised the hospital smell. It reminded him of sickness, of death; he despised hospitals in general. The thought of being cooped up in a house of pain and disease was too much for him.

He passed by many doors; out of pure curiosity, he opened a few of them and peered inside. He took quick glimpses of the people each room held. In one room, there was an old woman; her steely gray hair was loose, framing her serene face as she slept. Grand bouquets of sunflowers surrounded her, and the television was on the prayer channel. In the next room held a man, about his age. There were many different machines and monitors connected to him through tiny wires and needles, embedded into his pale flesh. His brow was creased, and he tossed and turned in his sleep.

Seifer continued to walk down the hallway, and turned a corner. This was a whole new corridor he had never seen, and there were two long corkboards along both sides of the wall. They were filled with colorful crayon drawings, filled with rainbows, puppies, suns, and wonderful things that children dream of.

He had entered the children's wing. He walked along the wall, entranced by the simplistic, innocent pictures; they were like windows into each soul of each child here. Vibrant colors covered each drawing, but he soon came to a small gray patch of color. Curious, Seifer lifted the picture that concealed the rest of the gray. He revealed a drawing of a sad little girl in a dark room, surrounded by monstrous-sized machines. The girl was wearing a crooked smile, but fat gray tears were coursing down her cheeks. The entire picture was colored in shades of gray, except for a vase of flowers next to her; a brilliant purple arrangement of orchids sat next to her, on a table. She was pointing to the other side of the picture, where a dim window was drawn. The shades were pulled, and there were little gray birds flying outside.

The name at the bottom of the picture was Lily Tempest, age six, room 201.

And at the very end of the corridor, he saw a door with the number 201 emblazoned upon it.

»~~*~~«

Quistis' confident mood from before had diminished into one of disappointment and desperation. She had been all around almost every wing, looking for her missing patient. Out of desperation, she finally decided to check the one place she hadn't: the children's wing.

Striding silently down the hall, she approached the children's wing, and the rows of familiar illustrations by the pint-sized patients the hall housed. As she advanced, she noticed that one drawing had fluttered to the floor. She bent down, picked it up, and began to fasten it to the corkboard, to its rightful place.

But then her eyes met the gray, dismal scene of Lily Tempest's drawing. She looked at it for a moment, then put the drawing in her hands over another picture, leaving Lily's exposed. Realization had dawned upon her, and she hurried down the corridor.

Her destination: Room 201.