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 Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 10:10 am
They brought Chris to the hospital when Sessrumnir arrived on the scene, drawn there by the sense of danger and desperation that emanated from Ganymede as she held Chris in her lap, watching first as the Chaos inside of him faded and then as his transformation slipped from his grasp. He looked peaceful in sleep, as if nothing could touch him, as if he'd not had a hand in his chest feeding Chaos into his starseed. Valhalla had been so close to turning, Ganymede knew that, but she'd pulled him back from the edge by the power of her crystal.
She didn't understand what had happened to her. She knew what of course, but the whys and the hows were as much of a mystery to her as most of her previous life remained. It terrified her to know what she had become, not because she feared using her power but because she'd become the very thing she hated about the White Moon. If it had not given her the power to fend off Laurelite and to save Chris, she would want nothing to do with it.
But there Chris lay in the hospital bed, free of Chaos yet damaged still. He did not awaken that first night, nor did he awaken on the second, nor the third. Paris counted the days as they passed by, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth. With each day she felt a renewed sense of grief. Chris remained in a coma. She wondered if he would ever wake up; she wondered if this were her fault. Would he live beyond the next week? What was she supposed to do if he never regained consciousness again?
Paris sat by his bedside day and night. She kissed him, she brushed the hair from his face, she talked to him about random things, anything that came to mind during those long, lonely hours staring as he slept on. She hardly slept herself, and she left Chris's side only to go out and get some fresh air at night. Otherwise she remained with him day in and day out, wishing he would awaken but fearing all the while that he would not.
On the seventh day, Paris sat in her usual chair with her guitar in her lap, plucking the strings in a familiar tune. If Chris could hear her, she wanted him to know that she was there, that she would never leave him, that she'd not yet given up hope.
“Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me... I know I could have loved you, but you would not let me... I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you...”
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Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 10:31 am
Part of him knew he’d been asleep; for how long was unknown. Sometimes he thought he could hear voices, music, words of comfort… not for him, but for others. He felt weak when he finally began to come back, drawn from a seemingly endless sleep. There was a pain in his chest, but he could not recognize the source. It wasn’t his heart, although it felt very close to it, almost as if his entire being was affected by whatever had happened.
A familiar tune pulled him further into consciousness. He was often teased for his ‘old’ taste in music, but it was soothing to him. It was nice to listen to the soft strumming of the guitar so close to him, but he didn’t turn his head, wondering if perhaps he was still sleeping.
Then again, if he was sleeping, why did he feel so much pain? Instead, he stared up at the ceiling, at the white tiles. He knew he was in a hospital from the smell — he hated the smell. But why was he there? Car accident? Did he get hit by a line drive back towards the mound? Had he been mugged? The majority of his pain remained in his chest, but he slowly tried moving to make sure he was still in one piece. He could feel his toes, which was a good sign, and his fingers too. His hearing seemed to be okay, and the fact that the light seemed a little too bright to him, despite being able to register that it was dim in the room, was also good.
So who was playing for him…? Surely not his parents or his brothers. Were they okay? Slowly he turned his head to look beside him, surprised to see a beautiful young woman with blonde hair playing for him. A volunteer?
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Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 10:47 am
“You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved yo—”
Paris stopped when she noticed Chris stirring. She held her breath, afraid her mind might be playing tricks on her, afraid he would stir only momentarily before slipping back into his coma. It had been a week with no sign of his regaining consciousness. She didn't want to hold out hope only to be disappointed in the end.
But Chris's head turned in her direction, and she saw his eyes open. For a moment, Paris's breath caught in her throat. She swallowed, and her mouth worked as she tried to form words, but at first nothing came. The only sound she made was the quiet breath that came with a shudder. The way Chris was looking at her seemed distant.
“Chris!” she choked out.
She set the guitar aside and rose from her chair in a single fluid motion, crossing the short distance between her seat and the hospital bed. She sat along the edge of the mattress, reached out to stroke Chris's face, leaned in to press their lips together in a series of quick kisses. Then her lips were everywhere—his brow, his nose, his cheeks and chin, anywhere that she could comfortably reach.
“Are you okay? How do you feel? You're in the hospital. You've been in a coma for a week. I thought you might never wake up. Do you know how scared I was? But you're okay. Everything's going to be okay,” she rambled.
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Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 11:00 am
No, she wasn’t a volunteer. That was obvious as she looked up at him with blue-green eyes. But before he could register anything else, she was next to him, kissing him and asking him how he was and telling him everything was going to be okay. He stared at her in surprise, perhaps wondering where the seemingly deep affection came from.
“Paris…” he said softly, trying to shift into a more comfortable position while allowing her some room on his bed. His voice sounded hoarse and he almost didn’t recognize the sound in his own ears. “Have you been here all week?” Chris asked in astonished exasperation, staring at her like she was out of her mind. It was nice that she cared about him so much, but not even his mom was there — he didn’t blame her or the rest of his family. If he really had been in a coma for a week he was glad at least they took a break.
He knew her answer before she said anything. Her eyes were bloodshot and she had dark circles under her eyes.
“What… happened?” he asked, not sure if she would know. If something happened to him while he was powered… “My chest hurts…” he added with a small groan at how pathetic he must seem, rather than from the pain itself.
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Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 11:13 am
“Of course I've been here all week,” Paris said. “I wasn't about to leave you alone. Your parents and Peter have been around, too, but they went out to get something to eat.”
She kissed him again, holding it longer this time, putting all of her hope and worry and fear into it. When she pulled back she brushed his hair out of his face, staring at him in concern when he asked her what happened.
“Don't you remember?” she asked. “We were attacked by Laurelite. She tried to corrupt you. I... I did everything I could to save you.”
Paris didn't know if she should say anything about what happened to her. She was more concerned about Chris than she was about her new power, in any case. She kept stroking his hair, tucking some of his bangs back behind his ear. She brought her free hand to his chest when he said it hurt, rubbing gently through the hospital gown he wore, relieved to feel his heart beating steadily.
She swallowed back her emotions, though her eyes burned and her throat felt thick. “I'm sorry. I didn't know what I was doing. I... I didn't mean for it to hurt you, but you were almost corrupted. Your clothes were turning black and I could see you fading away. I just... I acted instinctively. But I don't know if I did it right.”
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Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 11:28 am
So his parents and Peter were there, too. That wasn’t as surprising as it was to find out that Paris had indeed been there the whole time. He supposed it said something about her loyalty to be by his side.
But that wasn’t quite it. There was something he felt as though he was missing. She looked different than what he remembered, definitely more than what could change in a week. What surprised him more was her knowledge of Laurelite, and he instantly felt guilty for drawing her into the mess of the war. “Are you hurt? Did she hurt you?” he asked, more urgent to know she was okay than to try and piece together exactly what was going on. The fact that he was almost corrupted was… alarming. But here he was, knowing full well that he was still Valhalla and Chris Gallo. Something must have stopped the corruption, but her explanation confused him. What would she have to do with saving him?
And suddenly another sense of panic overtook him and he tensed as though he would try and get up in an instant. Had he and Paris been there alone? Would he have not been with Ganymede? Paris spoke of Laurelite and the corruption as if she knew… but how was that possible…? And where was Ganymede now? Wouldn’t she be there with him too??
Except… he had no idea what Ganymede’s civilian identity was… unless…
“You… you’re Ganymede…” he said in a breath as he stared at Paris, trying to hide his disbelief and trying to will himself to recognize her as the woman he loved. It wouldn’t make sense any other way.
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Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 11:43 am
Paris shook her head and said, “She only hurt my arm. I had to get stitches, but I'm alright.”
She didn't like the way Chris was looking at her, like he was confused by her. Paris tried to tell herself it was only the memories of the battle which confused him. It confused her enough as it was; she could only imagine how Chris must feel, given that he'd been so close to corrupting.
But the way he looked at her, the way he spoke about her... it seemed so disconnected.
“What are you talking about? Of course I'm Ganymede,” she said.
Paris blinked back the tears in her eyes and swallowed her fear down, where it sank in her chest and left her breathing slightly labored.
“You've known that for years,” she said. “Remember, after the battle at the Surrounding? I told you then. You remember that, don't you? It was... it was only four years ago. Not that long. You were angry at me. You'd barely even talk to me until I told you, but even then you were still mad. I kept so many secrets from you, told you so many lies, but I only did it because I wanted you to like me. You know that, right?”
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Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 11:57 am
She was getting upset, and probably for good reason. Everything she was saying could have been in another language for all he knew. Things that only made sense if she was there, but… why couldn’t he piece them together?
“I… remember the Surrounding…” he said, hoping that would help to calm her, but everything she she said about lying to him and keeping secrets from him… he couldn’t remember. In fact, there were more pieces that seemed to be missing than just her. Was he still in college, even? Did he graduate? “I’m sorry… I’m not trying to upset you,” said with a grimace, noting the tears in her eyes.
There was something else he was missing, but Chris couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Speaking of… he could feel a definite weight on his hands — the signet ring of Valhalla… and another band with a pink stone. Hoping it would not be as obvious as it probably was, he shifted once again to reach for her left hand. Sure enough, there was a matching ring on her finger.
“You saved me, right? How…?” he asked, wondering if changing the subject at all will keep her from seeing how his mind was racing to the point where it was almost painful.
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Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 12:06 pm
The apology fell on deaf ears. Paris was trying so hard not to be upset that she was working herself up even more. The reassurance that he remembered the Surrounding didn't end her fears the way she thought it would. He might remember the Surrounding, but it was becoming increasingly obvious to her that his memory had not gone unaffected.
“I don't know,” she said in response to his question. “Everything happened so fast. Laurelite had her hand in your chest and it was like something inside of me just snapped into place. I... I don't know how to explain it.”
Saying “I'm a princess” seemed rather presumptuous even if it was true. Besides, there were more important things to work out at the moment.
“Laurelite vanished, and then Michael helped me bring you here,” she explained. “I wanted to bring you home, but when you didn't come around Michael convinced me you'd be better off in the hospital. I was so worried about you.”
She clasped his hand when he reached for hers, though her free hand remained on his chest for the time being.
“Please, tell me you remember me,” Paris said, her voice growing quiet.
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Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 12:20 pm
He was trying hard to accept everything she was saying as the truth. After all, why would she lie to him when she had nothing to gain from it? Or at least nothing that he could see. But it was difficult when she was telling him things that just didn’t make sense.
“Michael?” he asked, confused even more so about him than Paris herself. “Not my brother Michael…” he said as if it would be better if he was just thinking of the wrong person. Michael had been deployed last he knew. He wasn’t caught up in this mess.
Chris looked into Paris’s eyes as she held onto his hand, wishing he could just… lie to her to make her feel better, but he was sure she would see straight through him. He drew in a small breath as if to steady himself, but slowly shook his head, “I remember asking you to go out with me… but… I remember Ganymede. Everything else feels like a blur…” Or just not there.
“I’m sorry,” he tried again, knowing she was upset. Were they really married? Was the home she mentioned a home they shared together?
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Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 12:34 pm
She tried to be strong. She tried to hold back the tears with her usual stubbornness, concerned that she would upset Chris by being upset herself, but they fell anyway. It hurt to hear what he couldn't remember. Everything... all that they'd been through together... gone. There wasn't anything left of it but Ganymede.
She should have been happy that at least that much remained, given what had happened to him, but they'd been through so much and they'd come so far. Having all of that suddenly vanish like it had was too much for her to bear.
Paris brought her free hand to her mouth to stifle a quiet sob. She wiped her tears away, but more soon fell the replace the ones she brushed off of her cheeks.
“I'm sorry,” she said, clasping his hand tightly, holding it like a lifeline, like she should keep him the way he used to be just by holding on as tight as she could. “I'm sorry, I don't mean to be like this. You must be... so confused and... and so upset. I'm sorry, I'm fine, really. I just... this is a lot to take in. I don't know if I can...”
She trailed off before she could complete the thought. What else wouldn't he remember? He would know practically nothing about their relationship. He wouldn't remember that her father died. He wouldn't remember how he proposed to her. He wouldn't remember their wedding day. He wouldn't remember that they were expecting children...
It brought a sick lump to her throat. Paris swallowed and forced it down.
“I'm sorry,” she said again. “You shouldn't have to deal with this when you just woke up. Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat? Maybe I should... maybe I should call the doctor, have her come look at you...”
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Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 12:45 pm
His heart ached, and not just from whatever had happened to him. Seeing her so distraught like this… he wondered if she really loved him that much. Was it too much of him to think that? She definitely acted as though she loved him. Or was at least very upset that he couldn’t remember her as well as she would have liked him to. Obviously, he didn’t know what he was missing, but he could assume it was a lot.
Chris lifted his own free hand, reaching out to try and gently wipe away her tears that continued to fall, but shook his head when she asked if he needed anything. “I’m just a little dizzy,” he lied, but if he was almost corrupted he figured that was the reason his chest hurt. Even mentioning chest pain in a hospital would put him through all kinds of testing, so it was probably better that he tried to ignore it.
“Thank you,” he added before she could fuss over him more. “For staying with me, I mean. This can’t be easy on you either and… I’m sorry. I’ll try to remember,” he promised, pulling gently on her hand to try and get her to lean in once more. Before he hadn’t really thought about kissing her back, but now he wanted to make sure she knew he was serious.
“It’ll be okay…”
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Posted: Tue Jul 28, 2015 12:59 pm
She shook her head when he said he would try to remember, not wanting him to force it. If he didn't remember then he didn't remember, and that was something she'd just have to get used to. They'd been through enough before reaching this point. One more setback wasn't going to change anything.
Except that Chris not remembering changed everything, whether or not she felt she could admit it.
Paris followed the pull of Chris's hand and leaned over him. She pressed their lips together desperately, wishing there was something she could say, something she could do to fix everything. Was this because of what Laurelite had done to him or was it an effect of her own efforts to save him? If it was due to her own incompetence, she'd never forgive herself for it.
She trembled noticeably and broke the kiss when she could not longer contain her emotions. She put her head to Chris's shoulder and sobbed brokenly, clutching his hand with the same desperation with which she'd kissed him.
She didn't know how to handle this. She didn't know what she was supposed to do for Chris, how she was supposed to help him. All she could think about was all the things he wouldn't remember about her, about them, about his own life.
Four whole years, gone in the blink of an eye.
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