Oliver was humming unthoughtfully to himself as he entered the dining hall. His tune died off to a noise of confusion when he realized the room was nearly empty. He immediately became suspicious, spinning around just in case someone was sneaking up on him. There were simply no other teens in the wooden food court besides a pair of girls giggling and hurrying to the doors.

"Excuse me!" Oliver called out to them.

They slowed, faces scrunched up momentarily until they noticed it was not someone unworthy of their attention. "Hey, Oliver. What's up?"

"Where is everybody? Breakfast is almost over! Did something happen?"

"You got to stop being so paranoid," one said.

The other, "Look out the window!"

"What?" Oliver's eyebrows mashed together. Sure enough, the entire landscape was dotted with white, continued with more specks flowing from the gray clouds. He groaned, "Fall just started!"

"Um, fall was several months ago. Oliver, where have you been?"

"Around," the boy turned away, itching the back of his head where he could feel their stares. It was embarrassing enough to hear their snickers, even as he walked away.

"Not here, apparently."

"Months?" He mouthed. The more Oliver chewed it over, he came to the conclusion that he allowed time to slip away as skipped from the bakery to the Realm of Spirits, and back again as if he wanted the days to pass him in a rush.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

When he entered the bakery, Anabella was coughing loudly, and he knew that within those passing months, she she had only gotten worse. That day, she would not stop hacking. Oliver had to keep his eyes on the tray of muffins he carried out to the table of diners instead of the hunched figure of his boss bent over the sink. She would only chase him away for worrying.

Anabella snapped once when Oliver ignored the stove's beeping for her raucous coughing, "At least I will not burn when left unattended!"

"Is there anything else I can get you?" Oliver asked in an almost monotone voice to the three customers, several men that crowded one of the little tables.

"Uh, yeah, you got any salads?"

Oliver blinked at the biggest of them all, silently cursing Americans. "This is a bakery."

"But you got vegetables and fruit to put the stuff in, right? Why don't you use those?"

"This is a bakery," the baker repeated. He tried reminding himself that not all foreigners were raisin-brained. "We bake things in the oven. We do not make salads."

"So, I'm not gonna get a salad?"

"Not here."

The burly man stared at the tray of apple cinnamon muffins that his companions were greedily sucking up without chewing. "Come on, bro," one said. "Have a cheat day for that stupid diet of yours."

Oliver turned around to escape into the kitchen. "Bella..."

"Stop it," the elder tossed out a red stained towel. "I am going upstairs to lay down now."

"I will be upstairs after these fellows leave," he said. Anabella did not reply. Her jagged breathing and slippers scratched on the floor in pursuit of the stairs. Oliver listened intently to her steps, in case the stairs proved to be too slippery for traction. When he heard no sounds of a fall, he left the kitchen to prop his elbows on the front counter.

The customers came into view, making their way to the door. They already paid before they received their food to prevent run-and-goers. Oliver gave himself a little shake to be more attentive. Either they engulfed those muffins in record time, or he let himself space out again. "Have a lovely day," he called, waving. None of them reacted, and the door squeaked shut. As a method of gratitude, they littered the floor with napkins and crumbs for the baker to clean.

Oliver pelted up the stairs, looking around the unoccupied living room and kitchen. "Bella?" He neared the bathroom, eyeing the light that peeked from the bottom of the door. He opened his mouth to call out for the old woman again, but a vicious cough made him clamp it shut.

"I am-" Anabella could not get a clear statement out.

"Bella, do you need help?"

"No!" The elder managed. "Go-" It sounded like she was hacking up a lung in the bathroom sink. It probably looked like it, too.

Oliver put a hand over his mouth, and stomped away from the splattering noises of blood hitting porcelain. "You are dying!" He wanted to shout. "You do not need to do this alone!" Yet he obeyed her wishes, since yelling would not ameliorate matters.

The teen decided to go with, "I will be downstairs if you need me. Get some rest!" He was not sure resting would help Anabella at this point.

"Don't forget about Nikolai!" She managed to remind the boy of the surgeon's up and coming delivery. That meant he had to leave the bakery again, so soon, and ultimately leaving Bella alone.

Oliver lingered by the front windows, looking at the white snow turn gray and brown underneath careless footsteps and wheels. He reached over, and flipped the 'open' sign to 'closed.' Instead of worrying about customers, the boy locked the glass door, and jerked away when he felt how cold it was from the winter seeping inside. Through cracks and crevices, he could easily imagine visible fog of ice creeping from the ceiling and floor, reaching after him.

The teen sharply turned on his heel, and decided to station himself behind the counter, glaring at the snow. He kept his ears pricked for any signal of trouble, and was frightened when a little word, "Poof!" called out. The sound belonged to a weight that landed on his head. "Hey, Ollie!"

"Lila," the baker half sighed, half growled. He scrubbed his face with his palms to bring a sense of normality to himself.

"Whoa, why are you so tense? Your aura is going bonkers!"

"Bella is severely sick. I do not think she is going to last that long. Oh, there was so much blood the other day..."

"Um," the fairy struggled to comfort. "Just think! When she's dead, she won't be suffering anymore! No more icky blood!"

"I do not want her to be in pain now!"

Lila clenched onto his hair. "Well, that's dying for you."

"She deserves to peacefully let go, in her sleep, or something of the like. Not...intentionally drowning in her own blood!" Oliver dug at the sides of his head, whining in irritation until his friend pounded on his fingers. "What if I put her in the middle of a sigil and healed-"

"Nuh-uh!" Lila pulled on a clump of hair. "Remember when you helped that quiet guy out, and it felt like you were stabbed like he was? Do you really want to go through with that? There is a big difference between an external wound, and a disease that has riddled Bella's insides. Besides, it's what you said. She is old, and dying. Sunlight cannot help a flower bloom after its petals have dropped."

"Plant euphemisms," Oliver's legs fidgeted from staying in one place. "I am deathly worried, Lila!"

"Deathly worried?!"

Oliver snorted, trying not to laugh, even a little. "I walked into that one. That was absolutely awful."

"I'm trying my best!" Lila proudly announced.

A cough came from above, loud enough to echo down the stairs. Oliver turned to face the steps. "Maybe I should not leave the bakery at all today. Maybe I could get Nikolai to take care of the stash with a few sweet treats-" Something shattered to the ground, breaking the boy's mumblings to a surprised yelp.

"What's that?!" Lila cried out, thrashing in his hair. "I think-"

A heavy impact followed soon after, thumping through the ceiling. "Oh, what?!"

"Go!" The fairy squeaked, gripping onto Oliver's strands for her life as he shot forward without another prompt.

"Bella!" Oliver shouted as he flew up the stairs on all fours. His eyes darted around the unoccupied living room. He hurried to the hall, knocking rapidly on the bathroom door. "Bella?" Even the bedroom and the spare room further down the narrow corridor were empty.

"Check the kitchen!" Lila said. "It sounded like the thump came from there!"

The teen rushed to the kitchen, his head tossing side to side in confusion at Anabella's sudden disappearance. He stepped around the island counter, and gasped when a sharp object crackled under his shoe. "Bella!" Oliver knelt next to her unmoving body, his hands hovering over her in uncertainty. A shattered cup of tea melded into splatters of red on the tiles beneath her, turning the warm color to dark.

Lila sounded like she was about to burst into tears, "Is...is she breathing?!"

Oliver pressed his palm to her shoulder, and with a grunt, he managed to flip her upright. He flinched when the elder's knuckles knocked against the wooden cabinet. His mouth quivered nervously, and he lowered his ear to her throat, listening for breath. At the sound of a low wheeze, he scrambled to his feet, and reached for the house phone perched on the back counter.

"Oh, how convenient, his number was the last one dialed," Oliver said, glancing at the caller identity before he put the phone to his ear. The line drawled several times, and each time, he squeezed his eyes shut tighter. Lila whined from his hair, burying herself deeper in rich ginger. "Come on," he chanted lowly. "Come on!"

The phone crackled, and a dull voice said, "Salut?"

"Louis!" Oliver blurted, "It is Oliver!"

"What, Oliver, you finally decided to give me a call-"

"Bella just collapsed on the floor!" The boy snapped. "There is blood, and her breathing is labored!"

Her grandson became serious. "I am on my way now. Unless she is on her stomach, do not move her! You can hurt her more if you do!"

The other line clicked off, triggering a dial tone to buzz until Oliver set the phone back on its receiver. He braced himself with a jagged inhale before kneeling again to pluck the elder's glasses from the bloody tea. "Just hold on for a bit, Bella. Help is on the way. Medical help, that is," he added hopefully, and set the small lens on the counter.

Lila offered, "I can help you get this sharp stuff off the floor!"

"Be careful as you do!" Oliver warned, even though he was at more risk for legitimately cutting himself on the shattered cup. Once the largest pieces were gone, he wiped the spill as much as he could without lifting Bella's head, and threw the rag he used in the trash bin. He dug in the kitchen drawer for another cloth to gently scrub at his friend's cheeks.

The fairy dropped her last part in the trash, and fluttered over to Oliver's head. "Um...Ollie? What are you doing?"

"I am cleaning her! Do you not see this mess?" When the elder made an effort to say something, a weak grumble came out, and Oliver hushed her. "It is all right. Your grandson is coming to help you."

Anabella's eyes, unfocused without her glasses, widened, and she clamped onto Oliver's forearm with an aged hand.

"No, do not try to get up. Stay," Oliver coaxed in a sweet tone, and offered a smile, even though she could not see it. The boy twisted around to glance around the kitchen. "Any day now, you...toad," he blurted, and nodded in approval at the insult.

Lila gasped, jumping off his head in reflex to the front door slamming shut. Multiple voices filled the stairwell. "They're here!"

"They?" Oliver stood up, and rubbed his knees that wobbled from crouching for so long. "He brought his pals. Good."

"Bella!" The dark skinned woman came first, carrying her medical suitcase. However, the trio were dressed in their normal day clothes. Oliver stepped away to allow the others to crowd around her. The doctor produced a flashlight to check the elder's vitals.

Oliver distracted himself by staring out the kitchen window that overlooked the street. Vehicles and pedestrians zipped back and forth, continuing as they normally do. It was difficult to be comforted by the usual practices.

"We are going to move her to her bed," the other man announced. Oliver turned to see Louis nodding and taking Anabella by her shoulders. "On three!"

"Come on," the lady said, grabbing anything her coworkers left behind. "She will want you to be there."

Lila bumped against the side of the boy's head. "Hey, Ollie, she's talking to you."

Oliver nodded, and followed the woman into Anabella's bedroom. He only grew more restless as her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. He hardly registered the trio whispering and plotting. The teen settled on the edge of the bed, and watching his fingers intertwine with one another rather than gawk at Bella's nearly still form.

The dark haired man hissed, "If she wakes up, when she wakes up, she will only start coughing again. It is no use anymore. The cancer has spread to her lungs. She is going to suffer if we keep holding on for our selfish reasons."

"Let's see what Bella says first," Louis said. "Let her speak one more time, and know what she wants."

The woman put in, "Besides, we have expecting this ever since we detected in the infection. It was only a matter of time."

"Yeah, and we are not a complete loss," the other man pointedly cleared his throat. Oliver tensed under their obvious stares, and turned to scowl at each of them. "Bella may be passing, but her legacy isn't."

"What," the boy seethed.

"Bella has been showing you the ropes, right?"

Louis smacked him on the arm, earning a deserved glare. "Of course she has! I will be damned if she was ever unprepared. You would never know if she was. Anyway, he would not be here with us if she never readied."

"Which you doubt," the woman rolled her eyes, but a tight lipped smile reached her bronze features.

"I said that."

"Hurr, hurr," the other man jived, and received a distasteful scoff from Louis.

Anabella suddenly erupted into a coughing fit. Oliver pushed away from the bed as Lila exclaimed in disgust and shock. "Grandmère," Louis hustled to the bed, dramatically falling beside her, and grasped her hand.

"Louis," she managed. "You are here."

"I would not miss it."

The other man announced, "Oliver called us here."

Louis frowned as Anabella turned her head to the teen. A weak smile crinkled her eyes. "Oliver, is that you right over there?"

"It is." The mattress quietly grunted as Oliver sat on it again. He put his hand in the elder's upturned palm, and despite her clammy fingers shaking, they curled around his. "Bella..."

"I know," the old woman sighed. "My back still hurts from that fall. I am glad you are here. All of you."

The lady doctor started, "We need to discuss grave matters with you."

Her coworker snorted. "Grave matters? Are you making puns now, of all times?"

She gave a little shrug. "It just came out like that. See, even Bella's laughing about it."

"Silly boys and girls," Anabella chuckled softly, so she would not overwhelm herself. She shifted, as if she was trying to sit up, but quit to cough again. "Now, I hope we all here know I am dying. There is no use in denying that."

"We know."

"Good," the elder smacked her lips. "I am not going rattle off sentimental analogies or my woes of a very long life. I just want to make sure everything is secure for the future." She slowly turned her head to Oliver again. "Young man, I expect you to take on the bakery when I am gone."

Oliver cleared his throat to get rid of the lump that tried to emerge in the form of watery eyes. "So do I."

She gave his hand a small squeeze, and faced Louis. "Remember what I told you to do, then. If he needs help, you always know what to do." A side of Louis' mouth pulled down, and Oliver internally betted that the doctor doubted that. "Do not give this boy any trouble, you hear me?"

"Crystal clear." Louis and Oliver exchanged sour looks as Anabella told off the other medical professionals. They solemnly took her waning scolds. She began coughing again, and her grandson stood up, nodding to his coworkers. "I will get you something to drink."

"Tea please," Bella said. "I never got to drink my earlier cup of Earl Grey."

"That has a very strong flavor," the woman doctor noted, and followed Louis out of the room. The other man remained, staring out the lone window shining on all small patch of grass between the bakery and the adjacent building.

"Shoot," Oliver pushed to his feet, earning double looks of confusion. "Nikolai will be here by now. Is it all right if-"

"Go," the man said without looking away from the glass. "We will still be here."