| They crowded in the hospital emergency room, eager to hear from anyone on Lance's condition. Justin sat catatonically, rocking in the same small plastic chair he'd been in before. It was all terribly familiar to him, depressingly so. JC paced now, instead of Justin, and shook his head. There were so many emotions raging inside of him, ranging from protective to confused. His knuckles were white from holding them so tightly, and he paused, only long enough to ask Justin if he was alright. When his younger friend nodded, still gazing into space, he continued to pace. From the hall way, JC made out Olivia's figure, standing watch outside the curtain to the bed that Lance occupied. He wondered if Justin had something about her presence and Lance's sudden illness. Narrowing his eyes, he headed down the hall, wanting to talk with her. She wrang her hands nervously, and pushed Matt's fussing hands from her. From the corner of her eye, she spotted JC approaching, and turned to him. "The doctors are working on him now, but he's regained..." "Who are you?" JC spat, unrest filling him. "Who are you and why are you still here? Are you a fan? Is that it?" Olivia stared hard at the man in front of her, standing her ground. He asked valid questions, and she didn't have the answers to give him. "I don't know why I'm still here," she admitted, brushing hair from her eyes. "I swear to God, I don't know what's going on. I just, shit." Her voice lowered, along with her gaze. Anything she tried to say to explain would sound too far out to comprehend. Hell, she didn't even comprehend it. Seeing Lance at the club she'd felt an incredible warmth spread throughout her, a feeling of love and connection. It made no sense, but to see him in such failing health scared her, sending her stomach into knots. No, she had no answers for JC. Matt pursed his lips, placing his arm around her shoulders, truly concerned for his partner, and friend. "Come on Livvy, let them do their job." "No, I'm staying right here until I can see him. I have to." Her eyes widened, and it was a plea, a beg even. According to the clock on the wall, her shift was due to continue for almost three more hours. She didn't think she could work anymore. Not unless she knew, for sure, that Lance was okay. "I have to," she repeated faintly. JC rubbed his hands over his face. "Why do you have to? I don't get it. What do you want from him?" He noticed she was trembling, and backed up a bit, giving her some room. "Please. Justin over there thinks it's you doing this to him. Lance has never had health problems, ever. " His expression wavered to one of sadness, dispair. The doctor pushed the curtain back abruptly. "Who's Olivia?" he asked, staring into the waiting room. Olivia looked at the man in the white coat and nodded, her throat tightened with fear. "Me," she managed. The doctor smiled warmly at her. "He's asking for you." Olivia clutched her neck, a small gasp escaping her lips. She brushed past JC and went to the bed, unsure of what to say, what to do. Lance was a stranger by all rights, and while he'd asked for her, there was no way she could scare him. He looked so frail, so small in the bed, his eyes closed and his chest rose and fell in time with his breathing. Tears came to her, and she blinked. The only word that came to her mind was beautiful, he was simply beautiful. Moving closer, she reached out and touched his cheek, needing to feel his being, make sure he was real. Inside, her soul felt complete, not realizing until now that she was searching for some missing piece. That missing piece seemed to be Lance. At her touch, his eyes fluttered open, and he forced a smile. "Olivia," he croaked, his throat dry. She tilted her head, and smiled back. "I'm glad you're here." The statement surprised him, but felt comfortable to his lips. "Are you thirsty?" she asked, glancing for the water pitcher. "You look thirsty." He nodded and she spotted the pink pitcher on the side table. Pouring a small glass, she lifted it to his lips. "Small sips," she explained. Her hand rested against his shoulder, completely natural in it's place. "Do you feel it?" he asked, feeling better. His green eyes brightened, and his cheeks flushed. "Do you?" She nodded, and words were unnecessary. He was reading her. Her fingers laced with his and she gazed into his eyes. JC popped his head in through the curtain, taken back by the obvious intimacy between the two strangers. "What the hell?" Lance looked up at him. "Hey, JC, nice to see you." JC's face fell and he shook his head. "You look better," he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. "How do you feel?" "Fine." He glanced at Olivia and squeezed her hand. "Much better now." While he didn't understand what the connection was, he felt right. All the dizziness, the panic, the pains were suddenly gone with her presence. He never wanted to let her go. JC studied Lance with interest. He had color in his face, a smile even. His eyebrows knotted with concern, and he headed out to tell the small group of waiting friends that Lance was awake, and looking fine. He cast a backwards glance, intrigued with Olivia and Lance, and the silent understanding they had for each other, as if their worlds collided for reason, for a purpose. Whatever it was, at least Lance was okay, for now at least. |
| FATES 11 |