Disclaimer - See a different chapter .

A/N - Sorry so late on updating. It's vacation time and my friend came up to spend the month with me, since she's from Oklahoma and I'm up here in Ohio. So we have been spending a lot of time together and I haven't been working on my story. So here I am, at 2 in the morning, unable to sleep and a rush of nice ideas running through my tiny mind. Ah. Greatness. Author's response corner!

Anime Creature - Thanks for the luck. ::hugs:: If you cared, the lowest grade I got was a C- on my History exam. ::grumbles:: Who needs History anyway . . . it's not like it's going to change or someone's going to have a breakthrough with it . . .
Katy - Thanks for the luck from you too! ::hugs:: I'm sorry it was a scary chapter for you, I understand where you're coming from. I spend a lot of time in hospitals unfortunately. They make me uncomfortable. Thank God almighty I do not have to go through another day with Hudak the terrible! He's gone, finito, bye-bye . . . see ya later. :D Keeping the writing going, just because it's fun. Never said I was good at it, but it's fun . Love you!

Well, that's it. And I'm not surprised. I love my fans. And thanks to all who put me on their favorites/author alert list. I love you all, you make me feel so special! ::hugs to all:: There's nothing really else to say . . . on with the story?

Recap: After a few moments of unsuccessful attempts at clearing my mentation, I gave up. As all this happened, the general mutter of the outside room subdued the air, as I watched and found an outline at the door of someone I never expected to see.


Onegai
Chapter 9 - Story of the Broken Petals

I felt my eyes widen as they met his own, grasping just who was standing outside my door. It was that man, the one from my vision. It was my father. I tried to hide, turning my head abruptly and attempting to bury it in the pillow to hide my face, but my attempt failed when the doctor took my head again and looked all over my face for heaven only knows what. I closed my eyes just then and started thinking to myself of what I was going to do, trying to stay calm but unable to do so. My heart was pounding and my hands were shaking; I would have been curled up into a ball had the straps allowed me to do so. I dreaded any sound I heard, fearing that it was going to mean he was coming for me. A silent tear rolled down my cheek as I trembled in terror, horrified of the possibilities of what could happen next.

I felt my worst dreams coming true as I heard the door open, and footsteps come through. I listened to them but they were soft, unlike what I would expect from the man standing at the door. Turning my head slightly, I tried to see who was coming into the room, but was met by an even different face. "It's okay," he said softly to me before continuing to speak to the doctor, "Sir, would it be alright if I had a moment with her?"

The doctor spoke, something unimportant about paperwork and whether there was a relation or not to the "hospitalized party". They treat you like an experiment in hospitals, I suppose. It's just like in all the books. He then gathered a few pieces of paper from the cheerful nurse's clipboard and stepped out of the room, turning to face my father outside.

I looked the man up and down, taking in every detail. Blue-grey hair tied back in a ponytail that hung down to the middle of his back, a plain white t-shirt that hung over his chest and tucked into his wide black pants that hung down from his waist. His tennis shoes looked worn, as if they had not been replaced in years, and he had a scar going down his right cheek. His violet eyes gleamed in the light as I stared at him. He then smiled, putting his arms outward to his sides, and turned around slowly in a joke. For some reason, it lightened my spirits and I began to trust him, even though I did not know him.

"Can I speak to you now?" he said lightly, a little bit of his gleeful disposition ringing in his tone.

I smiled at him, replying as sweetly as I could, "I saw you in a dream the night before last. You look the same." I turned to look him straight in the eye, but I saw he was confused and I decided I wouldn't say any more. Well, after I thought about it for a minute, if someone that I had never met before came up and told me they saw me in a dream a few nights before, I wouldn't exactly feel the most comfortable. I waited for him to respond.

He didn't. He sat down in a chair in the corner and pulled it to the bed before leaning onto one of the arms. The way he was looking at me made me want to hold him, as if he was hurting somewhere deep inside. Finally, he said something very faint and almost impossible to hear, "Have you ever seen me before your dream?"

After he asked, I felt my eyes close as I lay in the bed, the sounds of the hospital around me. Nurses hurried back and forth timidly from room to room, helping patients with little requests, serving meals and other things nurses do as the doctors looked at the tack boards hung around the halls. Volunteers could be seen every now and then through the windows with a toy or such, giving the impression of going to visit the children who had fallen terminally ill. After a few moments someone shouted "Code Blue! Room 143!" and you could hear footsteps trampling down the halls, yelling incoherent things.

Voices whispered in my head, little sounds that solaced my heart as I heard them sing to me in light tones, very softly–in a language that could not be understood. It sounded like angels whispering to the mountains as it melted into my mind. I tried to listen and understand, but they just ran together and were inaudible, but still gave me peace. I found myself speaking then, not to them, but to this new man that had just entered my room. I was not thinking, I was speaking . . . subconsciously carrying on a conversation with him even though it wasn't me. I cannot even remember what it is I said to him, my eyes were shut and my ears listening to the songs of the saints.

I began to feel light, as if being carried by someone . . . no longer was I confined by a hospital bed and leather, but I was free . . . and he was carrying me. I could see his face smiling at me as I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging as one arm supported my back and the other clenching under my knees for support. Arguments were heard, but I saw no people--just him as he carried me through a tunnel of lit tile. He made several turns throughout our journey–a left here, a right there . . . sometimes touching the air to make something useful happen . . . I was oblivious. All I knew is that he never stopped smiling and that reassured me that everything was going to be all right.

I felt a name come to mind . . . Shu . . . Shuichi . . .

"Shuichi's waiting for you, Legna . . . don't worry."

His shoulder became unbearably soft under my head as I ran my fingers through his long, silky hair. The wispy locks became entwined in my fingers as they bounced back and forth and side to side as he walked. I heard him begin to sing . . . it was a soft tone and it was comforting, like a lullaby a mother would sing. I recognized it from somewhere–I knew I had heard it before. From where I could not remember, but it was hard enough to keep my mind awake already.

I gave in to the temptation of the slumber.


A/N - I just got around to thinking how I absolutely hate the title of this story. I'll probably change it in the near future. Do not be alarmed if this happens. I suck at coming up with titles/summaries . To anything . Yeah.

Wow, this is short. I don't feel like writing anymore for it though, so . . . here's the next chapter. If you don't like it, too bad. Because to tell the truth, I don't like it either. So nyah. :D Well . . . yeah.