--- THIRTY-ONE ---

In My Place

It was coincidence that Matthew was on duty when his pager informed him of news his family had been waiting for for many hours.

It was also coincidence that Matthew happened to be in the vicinity of the ER, gulping down the last of his coffee, when two gurneys were wheeled in, one of which was being attended to by no less than three medics.

“Stat!” he cried, placing the earpieces of his stethoscope in his ears and pressing the head of the instruments on his brother’s chest.

“Matthew!” Ryan cried, trying valiantly to sit up. “I need—quick, I need—”

“Ryan, lie down,” Matthew told him, looking around for the other gurney. He spied Lee, prostrate, obviously unconscious. “Frank!” he cried to a nearby intern who had just entered the room, “get to that gurney!”

Frank nodded, and went to inspect the next patient.

Ryan was in tears. “Matthew, please, please get to her – I’m fine, but she’s been shot, and she wasn’t breathing, please, Matthew, please save her …”

Matthew looked behind him, momentarily watching Frank direct orders to a few nurses.

“I’m fine!” cried Ryan hysterically.

“You’ve been shot,” Matthew told him firmly. He took the stethoscope out of his ears and looped it around his neck. “I need to see to you!”

“I don’t care,” Ryan hollered, snatching back the arm Matthew was inspecting. “Take care of her!”

“Frank’s taking care of her, okay? You remember Frank, don’t you? You’ve met him before—”

Ryan gulped, and inhaled sharply, trying to keep his emotions intact. He lowered his voice, and pulled his brother closer using his collar. “Matthew, please, I’m fine—”

Matthew looked at his brother sternly in a move that was surprisingly parent-ish. “Nicholas, silencio. Enough. You have been shot in the arm. And whether you like it or not, whether you feel the bullet or not, we need to have the injury seen to. Because why? Because you have been shot. We will take care of Lee too – understand? Now, you need to calm down, because—”

Behind Matthew, Frank swore, and his cursing was met with an ominous beep.

“She’s flat lining! She’s flat lining again! Get me the paddles!”

“No!” Ryan cried.

“Charging …” yelled Frank. “Clear!” He pressed the charged paddles onto Lee’s chest, and she was momentarily brought to life, her chest jumping with activity.

“Nothing!” hollered a nurse as they waited for a change on the ECG.

“More, give me more … clear!” Frank pressed the paddles onto Lee’s chest again, making her chest jump once more.

“Please, God, no,” Ryan cried, tears momentarily subdued amongst the shock and commotion.

The doctor tried three times more – to no avail.

Hush filled the room across where Ryan and Matthew were, the continuous beep of the machine the only noise.

“Nothing,” the same nurse said again, this time, her voice soft.

Ryan jumped out of bed and ran to Lee, only to be stopped by a male nurse in dark blue scrubs.

“Try again!” he yelled. “Keep going! Don’t let her die!”

“Doctor James!” Frank shouted, “get your brother out of here!”

“NO!” Ryan screamed, running to Lee, standing above her, and placing his hands gently on her head. He bent down and whispered words in her ear.

To the doctors and nurses around him, he screamed, “Keep going!” the tears now flowing freely down his cheeks. “Don’t let her die! Keep going!” he sobbed. “Please, don’t …”

Frank pursed his lips, and Matthew ran to his side. “Come on, Frank.” Frank replied with a determined look.

“Charge it up again. One more time,” he said gently, looking at Ryan in the eye.

“Charging,” the nurse said. The machine beside her squealed sharply with life.

“Okay. Clear!”

Ryan momentarily let go of her head. The loud beep was the only sound that followed the defibrillator’s shock, then … silence. His hands returned to her motionless head.

He couldn’t say anything. His throat felt tight, his body felt limp. He didn’t dare blink, for fear of missing anything.

Matthew cupped a hand over his own mouth and expelled air, just to make noise.

Ryan mimicked his brother’s action, trying to suppress the grief-stricken whine he knew was bubbling from his gut—

Then—

Beep.

“We’ve got a pulse!” cried the nurse. The doctors and nurses scrambled around her, Matthew pushing Ryan out of the way.

Seconds passed.

“It’s—it’s good,” said Matthew, clearing his throat to stabilise his trembling voice.

Ryan didn’t exactly know what happened next – he watched the team before him do something to keep her stable, but Matthew took him by the shoulder.

Matthew looked to his brother. “You’ve seen her now, and you know she’s going to be fine.” He pulled Ryan away from Lee, pushed him out of the room, closed the door behind him, and steered him into the emergency consultation room across the hall. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the bed Ryan was sitting on before.

“I need you to calm down, okay? Or else I’m going to have to give you something. I’m going to have to take a look at you—”

“—because I’ve been shot,” Ryan interrupted, his voice hoarse.

“Okay,” Matthew said calmly. Once he was satisfied his brother had calmed down enough for his injury to get checked out, he did that quickly, knowing that Ryan was getting restless.

They heard the doors to Lee’s emergency room open, but Matthew didn’t bother to turn around and look. He knew she was going into surgery, and he planned on going in there with her – once he was finished tending to his brother’s gunshot wound.

It was surprisingly nothing to be too scared about – this was very tame, in comparison to the other wounds Matthew had seen and stitched up in his training.

He pulled the gloves off of his hands and let his brother be wheeled away to sleep stocked up on relaxants and sedatives. Just to force him to rest and stop him from seeing Lee.

He ran to the operating theatre, pulling on a green gown before washing his hands and arms with disinfectant. He pressed the red button to allow him into the theatre, waiting for the doors to release a whoosh sound before opening.

“Dr James,” Matthew’s attending said as Matthew pulled on a surgical mask, “how’s your brother?”

“He’s fine, all good,” Matthew replied. He tilted his head forward, in the direction of the limp body on the table. “That’s his girlfriend.”

Dr Braffe’s hands paused, the scalpel in his hand poised above skin stained yellow from antiseptic. “Really?”

Matthew nodded, and Frank, standing beside Dr Braffe, did too.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know … we didn’t have time to ask for any specifics, just status,” one of the nurses standing beside the attending said to him.

“So this is the famed Elliott Jacobs, eh?”

Matthew nodded again.

“What the hell is she doing with a gut wound?!”

Matthew shook his head. “Long story, Dr Braffe. But I ask you to please take extra care with this patient.”

Braffe frowned. “I always do, James.”

For a final time, Matthew nodded, before striding over to the table and assisting with what needed to be done.

Ryan felt like he was in a wonderland of sorts. He was having wild dreams, most of which revolved around flying horses, and even, once, a man named Max on a scooter.

When he opened his eyes, he felt the exact same way as he did when he recovered from hangovers. Worried, he looked to his side, wondering if he was going to find a semi-naked body there, relieved when he found nothing.

The whitewash walls that surrounded him were the first things he noticed – and that his mother was standing by a window, its blinds opened just a fraction. Kew was standing at the door.

“Mother?” Ryan said, his voice groggy. He tried sitting up, but was overcome with nausea.

Queen Marguerite turned from her spot by the window, and rushed to her son’s side.

“Nicholas,” she breathed, placing a hand over his. “Nicholas.”

“How long was I out?”

“You’ve been asleep for about eighteen hours.” The Queen ignored Ryan’s look of shock. “Matthew gave you some relaxants, but I think he must have upped the sedatives.”

“Why?!” Ryan asked, surprised.

“You were hysterical, from what I was told.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you were,” said a voice from the hallway.

Matthew walked in, looking very respectable in his white coat, stethoscope around his neck, and clipboard attached to his arm.

“I had to get you to rest.”

“What about Lee? What happened to her? Is—do you know if she’s going to be okay?” Ryan looked from his mother to Matthew to Kew, trying to gauge her health from their facial expressions.

Matthew was the first to give a reaction. “She was in there for a long time, but apart from a few minor complications that were sorted out straightaway, the operation was a success.” As if he knew what his brother’s next question would be, Matthew added, “She’s asleep right now, so you can’t see her. She needs more rest than you.”

Slightly relieved, Ryan nodded. But nevertheless, he made up his mind to sneak out sometime, when his mother or Kew weren’t looking, to check up on her.

Matthew cleared his throat before placing his stethoscope in his ears. “Right, I’ll give you a quick once-over.” Ryan opened his mouth to speak, but Matthew interrupted abruptly with, “Don’t talk.”

Ryan frowned, but the Queen agreed.

“Let him do his job, Nicholas.”

Ryan scowled, but kept his word and kept his mouth shut. He even remained still as he let his brother move his bandaged arm about.

When Matthew had finished, Ryan asked, “How did you get stuck with taking care of me?”

Matthew shrugged. “Everyone was too scared to take care of royalty, so they all told me to take you. I told them I didn’t mind telling you what to do.”

Ryan didn’t know if he was joking or not, but decided to leave it there.

“Okay, you’re fine – I just want you to keep to your bed, okay? No wandering about.”

Ryan rolled his eyes childishly, earning him a stern look from his mother. “Listen to him, Nicholas.”

Matthew looked to his mother. “Don’t let him do anything strenuous, okay? If you must get out of bed – and when I mean must, I mean, you have to be busting to go to the toilet so badly your bladder is about to erupt – I want you in a wheelchair, capisce?”

“Thankyou for the visual,” Ryan said dryly.

The Queen nodded. “Thankyou, Matthew.”

Matthew nodded and kissed his mother’s cheek, before turning to Ryan, patting his arm gently, and finally walking out of the room.

“You won’t tell on him if I wander, will you?” he asked of his mother. “What if I walk?”

“Nicholas, right now, he is your doctor, and if he tells you not to get out of bed, then you do not get out of bed,” his mother said firmly. She stood and fluffed his pillows lovingly.

A tired looking Kew had stepped silently into the room.

Ryan smiled, appreciative of his mother’s care. “Thank you.”

The Queen smiled before she sat back down and took her son’s hand in her own again. “I—” she began, but the words got caught in her throat. The look she sent to her son was enough for Ryan to understand.

“I love you too, ma.”

Queen Marguerite let a single tear slide down her cheek, before wiping the rest away from the corner of her eye.

Ryan didn’t have anything to reply with, so all he did was purse his lips in thought. His mother didn’t let go of his hand when he tipped his head in Kew’s direction. “Kew, I’m sorry for not listening to you. You know, with the whole not letting anybody in or out of the house thing.”

Kew shook his head. “Your Highness, all I care about is your safety. And you are now safe. Therefore, that is all I care about.”

Ryan looked at Kew in the eye. “Thankyou, Captain,” he said with sincerity.

Kew nodded once, showing his recognition of the appreciation.

“What happened to Dave?” Ryan asked, sitting up with the help of his mother.

“David Ferris was shot, but he was only injured. He’s in police custody right now, in the hospital.”

“What’s going to happen to him?” the Queen asked sharply.

Kew shrugged. “Well, he’s asked for legal representation,”

The Queen nodded hesitantly. “I cannot forgive him for what he’s done, but I cannot deny him his right to legal representation. Of course, as much as I’d like to guarantee him a fair trial, after what he’s done … well, let’s just say he’s going to have to plead guilty a million times over.”

Ryan had to smile.

“And how he thinks he’ll manage to find a lawyer who’ll represent him now …”

“You’d be surprised,” a voice said from the doorway.

Jasper had opened the door, and leant on the doorframe.

“Jasper, dear,” the Queen said, placing a hand over her chest, “you scared me.”

“My apologies, mother.”

He then strode over to Ryan’s bed, and in an unprecedented move, enveloped his younger brother in a bear hug.

Ryan, unsure of what to do, merely let his brother do the hugging.

“It’s good to see you, Ryzie,” said Jasper. “You scared us all, little brother.”

“Oh, well … I didn’t really mean to. Sorry.”

Jasper stepped back from the hug and smiled widely. He settled himself on the bed.

“What are you doing here, Jasper?” his mother asked. “I thought you’d be at home.”

“Someone I know said the person who did this to Ryan was asking for legal representation.”

The Queen frowned and inhaled sharply. “Please don’t tell me that you’re—”

“No, no,” Jasper said, holding up a hand. “I just wanted to see how this was going to be handled. Please, mother. I’m not that power hungry.”

“I wish you were that power hungry for the throne,” the Queen said as an aside.

“Let’s not get into this here, shall we?” Jasper said with a slight edge in his voice. It disappeared as soon as he turned to Ryan.

“The sisters are coming by soon,” he said with a smile. “Jasmine even closed the inn early. So get ready.”

“Pourquoi?” Ryan asked. “Wait, she closed the Serenity early?”

“You’re asking me why?” Jasper shook his head. “Wow, you must have been out for longer than I was told!”

“Shut up.”

Jasper laughed. “You know how they get. They get possessive and … touchy feely … and really hug-y.”

Ryan blinked at him before letting a smile crack his face.

Jasper rolled his eyes. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you about the touchy feely part.” He stood and dusted his slacks before walking over to his mother, kissing her on the cheek and saying goodbye for the meantime.

He was gone before Ryan could ask him what he meant by possessive.

“Do you think I can go visit her now?” Ryan asked after half an hour, getting impatient.

His mother shrugged. “Je ne sais pas, Ryan.”

Ryan knew his mother told him she didn’t know, but he really, really wanted to see her.

So he said, “Mother, I want to see her,” with all the conviction he could muster. “I need to see her. I need to know if she’s okay.”

Queen Marguerite hardly ever saw her youngest son get worked up about anything. Even before he became notorious for his many girlfriends, he had a perpetual … apathetic mood that sometimes worried her. His blasé outlook strengthened when he eventually did become infamous – but curiously disappeared once a particular Lieutenant entered his life.

The carelessness was replaced with much needed caution, and he had learnt to keep emotions in check. He had also learnt to get worked up about some things worth getting worked up about, cementing the Queen’s belief that all her son needed to pull his way out of the dark spot in his life was someone to keep his perspective clear.

With pursed lips as she inspected her son’s face, the Queen nodded once. Ryan looked around, wanting to know what Kew was thinking, but he had gone.

Ryan tried to be stealthy as he sneaked out of his room, only to realise he had no clue as to the whereabouts of Lee as she recuperated. But just out of pure luck, he spied Kew walking into an elevator, and as Ryan neared the threesome of lifts, it looked like he was destined for a floor two levels above Ryan’s own.

Catching the next elevator, and pressing the ‘5’, Ryan waited patiently, hoping Kew felt as lost in this big hospital as he was.

He wasn’t, evidenced by the fact that as soon as the elevator doors opened, Ryan saw no sign of Kew.

He sighed in frustration – but was surprised when he saw Kew turn a corner nearby.

“Bingo,” Ryan whispered to himself as he kept well behind the Captain.

As they subsequently turned a corner, Ryan spotted a nurse’s station, and felt that it was time to dislocate himself from Kew; just in case he found out he was being followed by a patient who was supposed to be involved in some serious bed rest.

Besides, Ryan thought to himself, there was the patient board he could inspect for Lee’s whereabouts – which is exactly what he examined once he got near enough to read it. He tried to act casual as he leant across the counter to do so. Luckily, the only nurse on the station was busy trying to direct a lost family, and was ignorant of his attempts.

It contained every patient’s name on the floor and the room in which they were in. Underneath Harrison, Martha – Rm 510, Ryan read Jacobs, Elliott – Rm 525. Reading off the legend next to the board, Ryan realised the red dot next to her name meant that she was in a private room, with visitors pre-approved by her doctor only.

He smiled, feeling rather proud of himself, and took three lefts down the corridor to find the twenty-fifth room on the fifth floor.

He only watched her through the window, where the blinds were only half-open.

He could see her face was pale, and all Ryan wanted to do was give her a comforting hug.

“You’ve been through so much,” he said out aloud.

“She has,” a voice behind him said.

Ryan turned quickly.

Kew was holding a cup of coffee, sans the plastic sipper cap.

“You, uh, scared me,” Ryan said nervously.

“My apologies.” Kew raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be in bed, Your Highness? I was present when your brother told you that you could only get out of bed if your bladder was – and I quote – ‘about to erupt.” He looked Ryan up and down. “I see no evidence of such a thing.”

Ryan raised his own sardonic brow. “Oh yeah? How would you know what a person would look like, had their bladder erupted, anyway?”

Kew raised his eyebrow again. “You’d be surprised how effective the removal of toilet privileges are as a tool of torture.”

“Oh.” Ryan didn’t quite know what to make of that.

Kew shook his head. “What are you doing up here, Highness?”

All thoughts of erupting bladders aside, Ryan sighed. “I needed to see her. See if she was okay.”

“Your brother said she was okay.”

“I needed to see for myself.”

They both turned in the direction of the unconscious Lieutenant and remained silent for a few moments. Then Kew opened his mouth to speak.

“She loves this job.”

“I could have told you that,” said Ryan.

Kew ignored him. “The first time I met her, she was fourteen, and was just beginning to learn how to handle a gun.”

Ryan let him speak, mainly because he didn’t think Kew was the reminiscing type, and he wanted to hear what he had to say on this rare occasion.

“When I began to teach her for Armed Combat – I could already tell she had so much potential. So focused. So determined. Sharp as a tack. A hard worker.” He brought the coffee to his lips and took a pensive sip. “It was obvious she was going to get better.” Kew’s eyes never left Lee. “Then she got accepted into Advanced Combatry. At first, I think she was overwhelmed, nervous – but I think she realised accepting the nerves would make her a better Guard.” He raised a shoulder. “She was right.”

The Prince didn’t want him to continue, but the better half of his conscious knew he had to.

“I recommended her as the top person for the job when we found out your family was in danger – but not the first person. We needed her to be our last resort.”

Ryan didn’t wait for him to explain that. Instead, he continued to listen intently.

“When she got here, I didn’t think she realised just how hard adjusting would be. Harris told me she was getting too involved in her job one day. I think it was when we were going to send her home, because you two wouldn’t get along – and then you thought against it. Harris thought she cared too much of that change of mind.”

“Really?” Ryan’s voice rose.

Kew gave him a half-nod, half-shrug. “I didn’t see it until I asked Esterhauzy to write that article about you.”

Ryan frowned. “You asked Noel Esterhauzy to write for you? Noel Esterhauzy, the guy who writes for Rolling Stone?” Surprised, Ryan scoffed. “What, and you owe him—?”

“He used to be a Guard,” Kew replied nonchalantly. “He was actually one of the first Guards to take part in a Code 430/4B. It’s how he got into music journalism – he was a guard to Madonna.”

“Oh,” the Prince said, because he really didn’t know what else to say to that.

“Well, I told you both I’d take care of that situation, didn’t I?”

Ryan gave him a half-nod, half-shrug. That, he did.

“Esterhauzy was asked to write it so that it felt like there was chemistry between you two. But he called me up when he left to tell me he didn’t need to write anything down. If he wanted the whole country to realise just how serious you two were, all he needed was a camera crew to follow you two around for a day.” Kew took another pensive sip; this time, pursing his lips afterwards as if to savour the coffee and the swell of his thoughts. “That’s when I knew it wasn’t just a job for her anymore. And that, Your Highness, in our line of work … that’s dangerous. Not only does it put your life in jeopardy, but ours, too. Not to mention it puts our jobs on the line.”

Ryan let a small sigh escape. “Her father was a Guard too, wasn’t he?”

“Yes, he was. Lieutenant Jacobs knew just how much he’d sacrificed for his job – she knew it coming into the game. She knew just how much she’d have to give up, too. Training as a Guard means you hardly get to see your family. That’s bad enough for anyone, but to Jacobs, who lost her father – well, that’s all she had. But now she had being a Guard. She had something she was good at, as well as something she loved. And to have that taken away ...” Kew trailed, and Ryan looked in his direction.

He could see the pained expression Kew wore on his face.

“… well, it’s never going to bode well in the end, isn’t it?”

Kew faced Ryan, and for the first time, he saw something that looked like sympathy on the Captain’s face.

“How do you know all this?” Ryan asked, slightly incredulous.

The corners of the Captain’s lips curved slightly, as if against his will. “Her father was a teacher of mine when he was still working at the Academy. She’s as passionate for the job as he was, if not more.” Kew gave a shrug. “It’s all she knows.”

Ryan never really did get what Lee was always saying about this job being too important to her. Truth was, when he looked at it from a different perspective, he was being a little selfish. He always thought she wanted fulfilment, just like he did – but it turned out, she found it in something else.

He tried to understand – why would Jasper give up practicing law, something he worked so hard for, something he was so passionate about, just because some old piece of paper told him he should be King? And Jasmine – well, Ryan knew she wanted the crown in the first place, but did she feel the same way about it now as she did back then? Did she still want the crown, even if it meant giving up the business she always dreamed of?

What about Matthew? He was doing good right here – Ryan’s last forty-eight hours had just shown that. Ryan honestly couldn’t see his brother anywhere else other than a hospital, helping sick people and making them better. What was he going to do, throw it all away when his time to rule came?

The thought of Catherine’s hopes of conquering the American ballet scene being put aside made Ryan frown. His sister didn’t belong in a throne, ruling and bossing subjects about. She belonged where she could make other people and herself happy.

Which left him. What was he passionate about enough to not want to give it up? Being free enough to sleep with anyone and everyone? Pushing someone to be part of something she didn’t necessarily want to be part of?

Ryan almost cried when he realised he had a lot of things to do, a lot of things to sort out…

… things to sort out, he recognised, by himself.

Throughout his time with Lee, one thing he’d came to realise about her was just how stubborn she was when it came to defending her job, or how much she cared for those under her care. He knew he was stubborn – but he was stubborn because he wanted to be, because he knew nothing else – not because he really believed in something.

Here, Ryan understood that when she took bullets, she took bullets for her job – not for the person she was supposed to Guard. It was her job to care for her charge. And if she got attached in the process, who was Ryan to punish her by taking her job away?

When did he ever care for anything that much – so much so, he’d take a bullet for it?

He loved Lee, he really, truly did – he never felt this way about anyone before. She was smart, beautiful, passionate, loyal – everything he could have asked for in a first love. And he knew for a fact he would always, always love her.

But right now, Ryan realised with sadness, that wasn’t quite enough.

Right now, their lives were too unstable to throw everything away for something not many people experienced so early on in their lifespan.

He should be grateful, he knew that, because even then, to find love was difficult enough, so much so, people tended to become cynical. And he was, he really was.

But right now, this love as going to have to be left right here.

Right where the memories were still good … generally speaking.

Well, when Ryan thought of Lee, the most prominent memory he had of her was not of her departure, but of that dimple just below the curve of her cheekbone, or the way her eyes would brighten when she was eating almond nougat ice-cream.

Ryan hoped he would find something as compelling and as extraordinarily potent as this when he was older.

The Prince looked at Kew and closed his eyes momentarily, before he replied, “No.” He smiled half-heartedly. “No, it doesn’t. It doesn’t bode well to lose something important for … anything. For anyone.”

The Captain nodded, and placed a hand on the Prince’s shoulder. “I won’t tell your brother you’re here if you want to speak to her.”

The Prince looked at Lee through the window. She was rousing awake. He turned to Kew. “Thankyou for the chat, Captain.”

Kew left without another word.

Ryan ran a hand through his hair, and rubbed his face free from emotion.

He couldn’t believe what he was about to do.

But it was obvious he needed to do it.

Looking up to the heavens, he asked for courage; and finally entered her room.

Lee forced her eyes to open, but immediately regretted it. She was met with a bright light ahead, and unfriendly beeps that one would usually equate to hospitals.

She tried to sit up, but was then met with nausea, and wondered if this was normal.

“Finally, you’re awake,” a nurse said pleasantly.

“Where am I?” Lee asked, her voice sleepy.

“You’re at Montagé Med. You’ve been knocked out for a while after your operation, but that’s normal, so—”

“Operation? What happened? I—”

The nurse smiled. “Shh, it’s okay. Tell me what you remember.”

Lee was beginning to panic, even though the nurse had just told her it was okay. But as soon as she opened her mouth to tell the nurse that it was not, in fact, okay for her to have forgotten things, entire memories came flooding back.

“Oh yeah. Dave.” Lee shook her head once. “He shot me,” she said monotonously. “Do you know where he is now?”

The nurse shook her head. “I’m afraid not, Elliott.”

Lee sighed and brought her hands to her face, wanting to rub the fatigue away, when Ryan entered her room.

Lee tried to smile. “Your Highness … it’s, uh, good to see you … healthy.”

Ryan nodded. “I can say the same for you, Lee—oh, my apologies, Lieutenant Jacobs.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, whatever, it’s …” her voice trailed, if not for a little surprise, and her hands curled into fists because they didn’t know what else to do.

The nurse looked at the two, then excused herself from the room. “I’ll, uh, come back later.”

She left the room, leaving Ryan and Lee to look at each other, both trying to remain aloof.

The last true words they had exchanged, besides the ones exchanged when Lee was sure she was going to die, were those of Lee’s rejection of him. Since then … well, the wounds hadn’t really healed, on either side. But Lee hoped that what she was going to say to him would make things better – much better – again.

“How are you feeling?” he asked cordially.

“Um, not too bad, actually …” She smiled again. “Oh, how about, er, you?” she added, almost as an afterthought.

He shrugged. “Not as bad as you, but I’m fine now. I only got shot in the shoulder.”

“Oh, ‘only’,” she joked. “Ahem … well, that’s—that’s good, um … obviously …”

Lee suddenly wished he would go away. She was talking nonsense. Not because she didn’t want him here – but because she hadn’t prepared what she wanted to say to him.

So she smiled at him, injecting hope into her muscles, wanting him to know that she was willing to give it all a go, because it looked like everything was real and concrete and true and raw and beautiful.

She had to tell him she heard his voice … from so far away, when she felt as light as air, when she heard the unnatural beeps of machines and cries of desperation from strangers around her … she heard his voice, telling her over and over, “Come on. Not yet. Come back.”

… She heard nothing else, and knew that nothing else but that was strong enough to pull her back.

Which, when put into perspective, made things very clear.

But …

Too bad his face seemed to reject the newfound realisation of her emotions.

“We need to talk,” was all he said, sending her heart plummeting into the depths of her stomach.

Lee didn’t want to hear it, actually. But she let him talk, nodding every once in a while just to show him she was trying to process what he was saying.

“I think I’m doing what’s best for both of us when I …” he inhaled, stretching out the intake of oxygen through numerous seconds, “… when I say … it’s—it’s not going to work out.”

Strangely enough, she could feel her face stay quietly still, impassive and devoid of any information or emotion.

“And … and I know I love you, Lee. I know I always will. But the both of us … our lives are just too separate. Too random. And we’re … we’re both too stubborn in our own ways to make changes right now … we’re both just too … independent.”

Lee licked her lips before pursing them tightly, letting him continue through her disguised pain.

“I finally understand what you meant when you said, there are just some things you need to work out on your own. And for me … well, I need to take some time just to figure out … well, figure out just … just what I need to do, you know? I’ve hurt so, so many people …” His mouth swelled to a close, but he swallowed and continued. “So many people … I just need …”

Ryan knew he was blabbering, and he knew she knew he was blabbering.

He shook his head. “Lee, I love you. Never forget that.” He sighed. “But I need to learn to like, to respect, myself without you, to respect those around me … before I can even begin to think of loving someone else.”

Lee noticed he said ‘someone else’, and not ‘you’.

“Give me time, okay?”

The Guard looked at the Prince through emotionless eyes that weren’t cold, before her gaze dropped to her hands as they sat neatly on her lap.

What was she going to say? I love you anyway, forget all else?

She of all people knew what it meant to deal with things on your own. Things became easier, thoughts just collected effortlessly. It was easier to get things done; it was easier to deal with everything.

Most importantly, it was easier to understand why some things just happened the way they did.

So regardless of whether she knew she was going to regret her next words, without further ado, and without the tears she knew would come later, Lee nodded once.

She looked up, met the eyes she knew she was going to miss like stupid, and let her lips curve up in what she hoped to be an accepting smile.

“Okay,” she whispered, just loudly enough for him to hear from across the hospital room. “Okay.” She couldn’t breathe; couldn’t think, couldn’t speak anymore.

Horrified, she felt her throat tighten, and her eyes begin to water.

His eyes widened, mostly out of guilt, but a little out of shock; and he stepped forward in a bid to comfort her.

“No, don’t.” Lee smiled, unfolded her hands, and held them up. She didn’t even bother to stop the tear rolling down her cheek, and was still forcing a smile when she implored, “Please, don’t.”

“Lee, I’m—”

She inhaled sharply. “Ryan.”

He stopped, doing what her simple response intended to. But he changed his mind, shook his head, and took the few steps he needed to reach her bed, before taking her shoulders and kissing her.

His hands roamed in her hair as he felt her fingers grasp his collar, pulling him closer into their embrace.

Just as he felt the need to touch her face, she gently pulled away; her hands travelled tenderly to his chest as she looked into his eyes. She closed her own briefly, before pulling him down again.

Lee kissed his cheek softly.

Before he left, he stepped back, just enough so that he could still reach her face if he needed to.

“Thankyou.”

Lee nodded.

He walked out, closing the door gently behind him. Silence settled into the room as Lee finally let go of the breath she was holding.

She looked around the room, confused, heartbroken, and angry with herself for leaving her honesty for so long.

She swallowed, praying that he would come back and comfort her.

But he was gone.

A/N: The last word of this chapter was written in the wee hours of a Sunday morning :)

And I don't think enough cookies could cover the apology I want to convey to you guys... Sorry for the lateness. And thanks for sticking by me.

Thanks to:

mimi, caelynne, Lil Bazza, gulistanlik, Twinkle Star Bell, Randomisatiom, chic rebel, Lalaith7, EnChAnTeD-KoReAn, "Why's all the rum gone", cherrypiesizzle, hnjones-2009, unconnected14, thinkTwice Nfall, Heartless Writer, gonnabefamous, Ye, violet-eyez, Aragorn is mine, pixie-girl-1231, Estelin, Genato, Rosieroo, RunFree, xoxokristen, s-pecial-lee me, personwithaccount, xMsxUnlucky92, markymark, monichi, city-gal77, AMM3485, The Happy Carrot, naningxoxo, ick, follow the night light, collegestudent, Leemya,

See you guys soon -

:)

Small Marshmallow.