Welcome to Gaia! ::

That morning, the doctor told Fallon she would not be able to leave for a few more days. The news came as a disappointment. After missing so much school in the organ ring (Or was it Barren Pines? Fallon didn't know what to think anymore.) the idea of being absent again was as appetizing as canned cheese. It was nice being around Jada, sure, but she would prefer to socialize under much different circumstances. Fallon's mother only fanned at her eyes, as if she could dry the tears before they fell.

The food was as dry and tasteless as it had been every other day. The air in the room felt staler. The sheets scratched harder. The bandages that wrapped her torso felt tighter. After the stitches had bled in the night, the doctor didn't feel comfortable sending her home just yet. It must have been a significant concern; DCH needed as many empty beds as it could get.

After shooing her mother to the hotel, Fallon spent a few hours finishing the stack of crossword puzzles her mother had bought her. She would have preferred to do a picture puzzle, but there was no space for her to do it in bed. This made her think of Leonette, her dearly departed friend, and then back to Barren Pines. Her memories of the school spanned two months. Two months, and then everything crumbled.

The hospital, Barren Pines, death -- it all made her think of Laney Sutton.

This was not the first time Fallon had visited Laney, or even the second. She came by from time to time to look after the plant, but only stayed briefly. It was painful to see someone so much like her trapped in the dream world that she escaped from. For all the pain of survival, Fallon knew that death was far worse. She would not trade places with Laney, even if it meant peace of mind. It meant nothingness; it meant forever darkness.

The doctors didn't like Fallon to walk. When she stood from the bed, a nurse noticed and came rushing over. Fallon was no stranger to walking with her injuries. Her leg was fine now; it was the ribs that smarted. Fallon had to walk when she needed to go to the bathroom, or be escorted to the shower. Fallon was stable, but her emergency surgery to stop the internal bleeding required a babysitter. Fallon didn't care. She was walking to Laney's room, even if it required a tail.

Tugging her IV along on a stand, Fallon rode the elevator up a floor to the long-term care ward. The nurse followed her down the hallway. Laney had been moved since her last visit. They needed more space for coma victims and now she was stashed in a room with five others. Worry rested in the nurse's eyes. "Be quick, girl. You might be well enough to walk, but if you take a fall, it won't be so good." She glanced down the hall. "I don't even know if you should be doing this..." Her hands worried over one another, eyes darting around.

Fallon touched at her wrist. "Thank you, I will be quick," she said, trying to look convincing. The nurse relented and took a few steps down the hall. She pointed to the spot where she would be waiting. The cinnamon-haired girl nodded, and then turned to push the door open, slowly.

When she slipped into the room, Fallon found the six comatose bodies as expected... and one extra guest that she did not.

"Jada."

The word reeked with pleasant confusion, the kind of voice a mother might use upon discovering her preteen daughter trying on a pair of heels. It was a happy coincidence, even when Jada expressed concern over Fallon's mobility. "I'm okay, nothing's wrong," she said, snapping back to her senses.

The IV stand maneuvered awkwardly, but Fallon managed to get it through the door. She used her leg to drag a chair next to Jada. It squeaked over the floor and she grimaced. "Sorry." Fallon took a seat, swinging the IV to her opposite side.

The two girls sat in silence for a moment. Magenta eyes wandered over the stack of poetry books. Fallon reached over and lifted the Shel Silverstein. "My dad used to read me these poems before I went to bed," she said, flipping through a couple pages. Her eyes wandered back to Laney. It seemed like the kind of poetry Laney might like. She was flighty in that way, whimsical too -- at least from Fallon's point of view.

Her fingers trailed over the pages. "What are you doing in here, Jada?" she asked, not looking up. It was almost like they had walked in on each other in the bathroom: awkward, a little embarrassing, surprising.

Fallon understood exactly what Jada meant, more than the girl could know. "It's like limbo," she said, smoothing her fingers over the wrinkled sheet on Laney's bed. "There is no life, no death. Just emptiness, trapped in your own body, unable to control anything." This hit close to home for Fallon. There were times when she felt that way about her OCD. Her body was no longer a tool but a prison that compelled her to do things in spite of what her mind said. At least with her condition, Fallon could still appreciate life and living, eating good food, laughing with friends. Under the watchful eye of Dr. Price, things were better than ever.

Painted nails slid under the mattress, tucking the sheets tighter. It was unnecessary, but Fallon kept moving, pressing out every wrinkle in slow, methodic strokes. "They care that you are visiting. I believe that." Her eyes were fixed on Laney. The green fern was lush and healthy. Fallon had spoken to one of the nurses about making sure it stayed watered in her absence. Sitting here by Laney, she felt the weight of guilt upon her shoulders for not visiting more.

Her nose pricked, limbs heavy. Visiting Laney was difficult. Having someone know she visited Laney was worse. "Judaism has an involved process of mourning. We sit shiva. We cover mirrors. We mourn. But we only do this for the dead." She reached out and brushed a piece of hair away from Laney's closed eyes, fingers featherlight across her lukewarm skin. "For these people who are neither coming or going... there is nothing. But this room." A sad smile touched her lips. Fallon drew her hand back.

Crying was not something she liked to do in front of others, but she was beaten, tired, weak. Laney was her silent confidant, a girl she should have given more time in her waking life. Fallon dropped her hand into her lap. She didn't whimper, or sputter. Her eyes simply filled with water, and then spilled over. Silent.

Fallon glanced to her lap. "Oh, Laney..." Her fingers reached out again, brushing the skin of her forearm.

When Jada first reached for her, Fallon stiffened. She was used to initiating physical contact, and she was used to being alone when she cried. She didn't want to be weak and vulnerable, never had. Fallon prided herself on her ability to stay strong in the face of mounting demands. If her battle with OCD had given her one thing, it was that: unflappable determination. This divider that had been built brick by brick throughout her life threatened to break. In that moment, she didn't want to swallow down all the things that welled inside her; she wanted to let it out.

The wall that was built between them shuddered and fell. Fallon reached out and wrapped her arms gingerly around Jada, gripping her at the elbows to avoid her back. Her body didn't shake. She didn't whimper. Fallon just bit her lip hard and smashed her eyes shut, trying to get a hold of herself. It was nice to be hugged. At Barren Pines, Andeon gave Fallon daily hugs. She hated them at first, but now that he was growing more and more absent in her life, she missed them desperately. He might not have known it, but getting a hug from Andeon was part of her schedule at Barren Pines. It was written on her calendar, color-coded in pink. Fallon had forgotten how nice it could be to depend on a friend like this.

It was comforting, but after a few moments, Fallon pulled away, wiping at her eyes and not making eye contact. The front of her hospital gown was speckled with tears. She used it to wipe the moisture from her hands. The room was still, the heart monitors turned down to their lowest volume. Fallon stared at Laney. "Laney was my friend," she said, then corrected, "Is. Is my friend." In school, Fallon hadn't felt that way, but after everything that happened, she felt that she could call Laney a friend and mean it, even if it was too late for the golden-eyed girl to appreciate. "We... went to school together. I was never nice to her then. Not nice enough. I looked at her as someone that I had to tolerate, not befriend." Fallon reached out and touched Laney's arm. "But she was nice to everyone. I really wish I could apologize to her for not being nicer. If I had known our time was limited, if I had known what we were caught up in..." Her words stopped. Fallon glanced down to her lap as a new wave of tears came.

She gave herself a few moments to regain her composure. Then she looked to Jada. "Jada, have you ever heard about Barren Pines? Has anyone ever talked to you about it?" This was not a subject that Fallon had ever broached with her riding partner. It was not something that she ever planned to divulge, and yet, here they were. She swallowed and rephrased for clarity, "Did you hear about the organ ring scandal?" Fallon had no idea how much news Jada watched, but the DC Organ Ring had been a topic of much debate. It even made it on Nancy Grace.

Fallon folded her hands neatly in her lap, stared at them. "Laney Sutton was one of the survivors," she said, and then firmer, "and so was I." Her voice was hollow, but steady in spite of the tears in her eyes. It wasn't often that Fallon let herself cry about Barren Pines. She could only blame its newest resurgence on the persistence of her nightmares as of late.

The little fern had been switched to a new pot. It was pale purple and had Laney's name painted on it. Fallon had not done this. She could only assume a nurse had. If she wasn't crying, the girl might have tried to switch the topic to that, to anything, but it was too late. She had already shown the cracks in her facade, might as well let some of the pressure out.

Her cinnamon hair was loose around her shoulders, a rare sight. The hospital could be thanked for that one. They had to explain over and over why she wasn't allowed to use hair spray in her hospital bed. Now, cast in the glow of the sunlight, Fallon looked so much younger than she usually did, freed from her outfits and makeup and styling. Her tongue tapped the front of her teeth before she spoke again. "Everyone told me that it was an organ ring, but I don't remember it that way. None of us do. I remember it as a school called Barren Pines, a school that apparently never existed." A soft scoff bit from her lips. She could remember getting on a plane for America, saying goodbye to her family, promising to call them soon. On the plane, she took a sleeping pill to calm her nerves about flying. When she came to, Fallon was sitting in a limousine outside of the campus. She couldn't remember how she got there, but she had all of her things and her room was waiting. Why hadn't she questioned that before?

"I remember barely anything, just classes, friends, a new life. My memories stop some time before they recovered us all. It's like everything just... faded." Fallon lifted her hands weakly and then let them settle on the edge of Laney's bed. She fiddled with the sheets. They should be softer, she thought, for those like Laney would couldn't speak up to complain for themselves. "The doctors told me that Barren Pines was the lie that we were fed when we were in captivity." Her eyes, still puffy and tear-stained, flashed over to Jada. "It was a good lie. Worked on me."

The room seemed quieter then, still. Fallon looked back to Laney. "Whenever I pity myself for Barren Pines or my life, I come visit Laney." Her voice darkened. "That's the truth." Survivor's guilt hung heavy on her shoulders, eyes shadowed by the pressure. She cared about Laney, sure, but Laney was more than a person. She was a symbol; she was a living example of how lucky Fallon was. This was something that Fallon would not forget, even if she was capable.

Fallon didn't want consolation. What Jada did was exactly what she needed: ask questions that she could answer. "Yes, Laney is the only one of us who never woke up." Her fingers brushed the girl's fair skin, smoothing the fine hairs on her arm into the same direction. The other questions were harder. Fallon shook her head and waved them away. "There are no answers. No memories. I'll never know." It was a sobering thought, but one that Fallon had been chewing for some time.

Jada knew about loss, that much was clear. Losing someone right in front of your eyes? Fallon hadn't dealt with that. She didn't remember death, not at all. Wherever Leonette went, whatever happened to her, Fallon didn't know what it was. Just that she had lived, and Leonette had died. That was all she knew, nothing more. If she had seen Leonette killed in front of her eyes, she probably would have prayed for a coma. The thought was hyperbolic and perverse given the body that lay in the hospital bed in front of her. Fallon scolded herself.

In the stark light, Fallon reached for Jada's hand. She gripped it lightly. "You lived. We lived. We lived for a reason, I have to believe that's true." Magenta eyes blazed with conviction, and Fallon leveled them on her dark-haired friend. "If they died, then I have to tell myself there was a purpose. And if they died for a purpose, then we lived for one too, even if we don't understand what it is. Everyone has a calling in life. We just need to find ours and make a difference that can change the world." A wistful smile graced her lips. Fallon was an optimist at heart; Judaism had given her that.

"When I start my restaurant, I will change the world with my cooking. That is my purpose." This is truly what Fallon believed. She believed she was born to cook, and for nothing else of much significance. Let the world remember her dishes, if not her face. It was a gift that she could give.

Fallon knew that Jada could not guarantee her future. She knew that, but she believed the girl anyway. She wanted to, she wanted to believe that two teenage girls had the power to control the world around them. The kiss on her head made her smile through foggy eyes. So long as she had friends, these friends, everything would be okay, wouldn't it? As long as they all stuck together...

Her mind went to Leonette: another friend, lost. With Jada hovering above her, it was easy to try to forget, to close her eyes and imagine a perfect world where no one died and everyone loved her and her food. "I will make you fat and happy," Fallon said laughing.

A light knock came at the door. It was the nurse, her face flushed. "Fallon," she said, sinking back when she saw the girl was not alone in the room. "I'm so sorry, but you need to come back. The doctor needs to check the stitches." Fallon nodded and got to her feet, using Jada for support.

She smiled and turned to leave, but thought better of it and turned to give Jada a quick hug. "You're a really good person, Jada. It's a really good thing that you're doing for them. Laney would love you." Her eyes strayed to the comatose girl. "But I think Laney sort of loved everyone..."

The tears had dried, but a flush happiness stained Fallon's dark skin. Her arms slipped away from Jada, and she retreated to the doorway, dragging her IV stand and following the nurse obediently.