Soft Sounds and Hard Impacts

Tell me where our time went
And if it was time well spent
Just don't let me fall asleep
Feeling empty again
-Pressure, Paramore

Claire left the hospital not even an hour after Jill. She felt so unbareably guilty about her outburst, she could barely stand it. Upon arriving home, she phoned the brunette. It rang and rang before voicemail intervened. She didn't leave a message, wanting to speak with the woman. Jill deserved an apology.

Claire fell into her recliner and ran a hand through her hair. She could still see the pain in Jill's blue eyes at the accusation. "When will I ever learn to shut up?" the redhead thought. All she wanted was for her brother to be happy. As much as Claire didn't like the thought, Jill was part of that happiness. Sure, there was the issue of Jill's boyfriend, Payton. But Claire could scare him off. If she had to, she'd steal him (and then dump his ass because he was a little bitch. Jill didn't seem to see that though) and make sure Jill went to Chris for comfort.

It wasn't a great plan, sure, but it beat letting Chris pine away after Jill (who obviously liked the marksman). Claire wasn't the best match maker, but she'd try. And damn it all to hell if she failed.

She really only wanted her brother to be happy with a woman he loved. It had been obvious since day one of STARS that Jill was the woman he wanted.
Claire missed the early days of STARS. She and Jill had been friends at that point. They went shopping together, teased Chris together, and even went drinking together. Jill had changed a lot since then. Smiles rarely showed on her face. When they did, they were fake. She was no longer interested in shopping or drinking. She went about her day with no variations. She didn't keep in touch with friends. The only social thing she did was visit Chris at the hospital.

Though the two weren't in the best relationship, Claire was worried for Jill. She didn't want anything to happen to the brunette. Exspecially not the apparent depression.

Jill was glad Payton was gone. His comfort meant little to her unless he actually tried, which was rare. She grabbed for her phone in order to text Chris an found it missing from her pocket. She swore. That meant she had most likely lost it in the hospital or in the car on the way home.

She closed her eyes, but didn't let the tears out, not at first. She wanted to be strong and hold them in. But, she hadn't been strong for the past two years, one month and three days. More, actually. The day he protected her with his body from a bomb she couldn't diffuse was her first day of weakness. When she pulled desperately at his unmoving body, waiting for the emergency responders that should have been on scene to arrive. That was her first few moments of weakness. Those few moments followed by over two years, one month, three days and leading up to her collapse on the couch. She knew that she was the reason for Chris's accident. But it hurt to know someone else knew of her guilt too. It was better if she just calmed down. With aclear head, she was capable of much more.

But she wasn't. She wasn't capable of doing anything right, that was clear. She'd lost her phone, angered Claire, and nearly cost Chris his life. She couldn't do anything right. She deserved to be alone for the rest of her life and suffer. Or possibly just cut short the wait and end it. Either way, she'd get what she deserved. Death. Chris could live his life with someone else as his partner or, the place she once thought of herself possible of, his wife. She didn't deserve him.

Barely able to stand without wanting to fall again, she curled up there on the couch and fell asleep.

Two days after Jill and Claire both being present in his hospital room, Jill had not returned. Chris was worried about the relationship his partner and his sister had. Claire had barely said a word after returning from her "talk" with Jill. He wasn't stupid. He knew they had argued behind the closed door of the room.

To wake from one nightmare to be in a dream that had Jill (so refreshingly alive, unscarred, and as beautiful as ever) was something wonderful. But then there was how Jill was acting, how Claire and Jill interacted, and the fact Jill wasn't his to hold. That would have broken him if not for the fact she allowed him the kiss. That one kiss held all the hope in the world to him. She was in a relationship with another man, yet she had kissed him with more passion that he was used to. He loved her. He'd wait as long as he needed to be able to be with her.

Chris grabbed his phone and hit one. It was his speed dial number for Jill. It went straight to voice mail. He sighed. The damned thing had gone to voice mail the past five times. Maybe it was dead. Or maybe she was avoiding him.

He shook the thought away as Betty came in the room. "How are you feeling?" she asked, picking up the clipboard hanging off the end of the bed.

"Okay, I guess," he replied.

"You guess?" She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "What's up?"

"I can't get a hold of Jill and she hasn't visited in a few days."

"I noticed that. I can get you her home phone to try after I test your reflexes. We have it on file." Betty set the clipboard down on the side table and took a percussor from her pocket. "Sit on the side of the bed, please."

He moved so his legs hung off the side of the bed. He pulled up the pant legs of his pajama pants (Claire had brought them for him). "You can get me her other number?"

"Mhmm." Betty tapped his knee with the percussor and recorded his reaction on the paper. "She's down as one of the people we call if something happens to you. If she hadn't been there when you woke up, we would've called her. And your sister too." She put the percussor back in her pocket and gave him asmile. "I'll go get you her you call her, we can get you up and walking."

He smiled. "Thanks, Betty!"

Jill stepped out of the shower and was grabbing the towel on the rack when she heard the phone ring out in the living room. She swore and wrapped the towel around her. She left wet foot prints in her wake as she went for the phone. "Valentine residence."

"Hello? Jill?"

"Chris?" She was surprised. "Where'd you get my house number? I lost my phone and couldn't remember your number."

"Betty brought it to me." He paused. She waited for him to continue, not sure what else she could contribute. "Jill... Why haven't you visited me again?"

She sighed. "I'm not feeling too well."

"Emotionally or physically?"

The brunette gave it a moment's thought. "A little of both, I guess. One more than the other." She didn't want to lie to him.

He didn't have to ask which was more. "Any chance you can come visit?"

"I've got to get dressed first, but yes, I can."

"Get dressed? Did you only just wake up? It's kinda late..."

She shook her head, a pointless action when on the phone. "No. I just got out of the shower." She realized she had just told him she was naked.

"Oh..." His mind raced, picturing what The Dream had shown him so many times. He controlled himself. "Well, I really want you to see you today. So go get dressed and hurry here."

"Okay. I'll be there soon," she answered. She wondered what he had thought about her being naked (except the towel) and on the phone with him. He had probably pictured her naked, seeing as it was mentioned. She felt strangely okay with that. "See you."

"I love you. Bye."

She hung up and sighed. Why did he have to say things like that? She sure as hell didn't deserve love from someone as good as him. She tried to get her mind off it, dressing quickly. She turned up the music on the way there, focusing on the lyrics. "Here, sleep at the bottom of hell. Your time has come to pick the road you walk in this tale. Turned and as a coward you've learned through sickness and health, there's only one. Now go and bite your tongue." Coheed and Cambria. It was music that had kept her going, if music could weigh so heavily on such a thing as a life.

She took another deep breath, steadying her hands on the wheel.

Stepping into the hospital, she was greeted with the familiar "too clean" scent, but she no longer focused on the bad parts of walking through the hospital halls. Because now the walls held something good for her; Chris.

She opened the door to room 216; a force hit her and nearly knocked her down. "Hey, Jill," a smiling Chris greeted. If he had been a puppy, he would've been wagging his tail. He had his arms around her and his face close to hers.

She patted his back and smiled lightly. "Hmm, and they wonder why I call you Bearfield."

He gave her another quick squeeze before pulling away. He motioned behind him. "Betty let me get out of bed."

Betty was standing by the bed, smiling. "He's been a little unsteady on his feet, but other than that. And I tested his reflexes earlier, but seeing how he moved when he saw you, it was an unneeded test." Betty was a little intrigued in their relationship. She knew Jill was dating someone else, but there was a chemistry between her and Chris that couldn't be denied. "He can leave in a few more days. Have a place to stay?" the blonde asked.

Chris shrugged but Jill spoke. "I've got an empty room for him in my apartment. Payton is gone on a business trip anyways, so I could use some company."

"Well, that's good! No better company than a close friend."

Jill smiled. A real one this time, though it was soft and sad. "Yeah."