Chapter Text
Christine’s life was largely like any other working woman’s life. Routine baked into routine after routine. Get up, go to work, come home and lose yourself in meaningless hobbies. Stomp out the loneliness with perfect virtual lovers who cost you way too much money, fight the urge to cry, rinse and repeat. Monotony sliced by calls with family and distant friends, all busy, all stuck in the grind, all consumed by the machine of daily life. It was as dreadful as it was comforting. But sometimes, life's routine was broken in terrible ways.
You really don’t know how good you have it huh? The thought zinged through Christine's head, ill time and terrible, tears filling her eyes in disbelief in the seconds before the flare of headlights encompassed her entire vision. For fuck sakes-!!
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BEEP BEEP
Good god, shut up! The thought rang through her head along with the rattling of her brain, pulsing and aching in a foggy haze that made her stomach churn. A low groan whimpered past her lips, desperate and pleading.
A low male voice spoke quietly beside her as she dared to try and open her eyes. “It looks like she’s waking up.” Slightly louder, a large hand pressing to her forehead. “Miss Christine, can you hear me?”
Familiar, the voice was so familiar. She just couldn’t place it, eyes squinting and crinkling as light split through her brain like a cruel lance. “Yeah…” She barely managed to rasp the word out, tears beading as she blinked desperately against the sting of what felt like a thousand suns behind her eyelids.
“Photophobia, Yvonne, can you lower the lights?”
The voice was merciful and kind, a god amongst man. At his command the light dimmed with blessed relief, leaving nothing but that wonderful floaty feeling. Eyes finally opening Christine stared up into the white ceiling above her with a squint, confusion burbling as she slowly started flexing her fingers and toes. What the hell happened…?
“Do you remember what happened?”
Oohhh he’s mimicking me? A shadow eclipsed her vision, a face blocking the ceiling tiles. Christine blinked and then blinked again, a smile curling her lips unthinkingly. “You look so much like Zayne.” She chuckled, as the man tilted his head in askance. She stared up at him with a silly grin. “Handsome…”
A muffled female laugh from somewhere to her side had not-Zayne frowning, the sharp cut of his jaw on display as he glared at whoever had made that sound. He gestured for something and then returned, glancing back down at her, expression blank. “I’m glad you can recognize me.”
She sighed deeply, happily. Wow I really must have hit my head hard… am I hallucinating? But really the way this doctor looked was striking. Hazel eyes ringed with thick lashes, black hair and smooth skin, like a runway model in a lab coat. Zayne’s face card never declined and if she was going to hallucinate on top of whoever was actually looking after her, why not one of the guys from Love and Deepspace? Still smiling she watched his ears turn slightly red even as not an inch of his expression twitched. Suddenly what he said registered. Christine snorted out a laugh. Recognized… right… Definitely hallucinating. “Of course Doctor Zayne, I’d never forget your face.” She chuckled to herself and sighed, a groan at the back of her throat as that floaty feeling began to ebb. “Nooo you’re taking away my pain meds.” She recognized the feeling of awareness returning with a grunt of despair.
“It takes several hours for the effects of pain medication to wear off. We took those away a while ago.”
She glared unthinkingly. “Boo…”
“Indeed.” Not-Zayne bent closer, adjusting her IV line and pulling out a tablet, the flickering light of it illuminating his face in a blue glow. “Can you give me your full name and date of birth?”
A grunt and a sigh, she spoke. “Christine Termine, born on the 5th of April.” Guess this doctor's name is also Zayne? But man… he even sounds the same!
He hummed and nodded. “Occupation?”
“Uhh-” She stalled, cheeks heating. How do I say I just got laid off before getting hit by a truck…?
Those hazel eyes could cut diamonds, they were so sharp. He watched her stutter, a frown just barely furrowing his brow. The pause was getting awkward as he waited. At last he seemed to take pity on her stuttering. “What’s the date?”
“August 15!” That at least she could answer. It’d probably be a long time before she forgot the day she not only got hit by a truck but she also managed to lose her job in a shitty mass layoff. Absolute bastards. Inwardly she fumed once more. Asking someone to move half way around the country only to can their ass two months in. The sheer audacity of these corporations was mind boggling.
Not-Zayne was frowning again, looking over her head for the nurse and writing rapidly on his tablet. “Year?”
“Uhhh 2025…?” The words trailed off as his eyes snapped down to hers, alarmed.
A pause and a breath, he pushed his silver rimmed glasses up his nose. “Address?”
Should I give the air bnb where i’ve been staying while looking for an apartment or my grandma’s address..? “Uh, I can give you my grandmother’s address?”
He pinched his nose briefly, eyes sliding closed. Upon closer inspection this Zayne look alike was absolutely exhausted. She cringed, staring around the room hesitantly and plucking at the blanket. God knew being a healthcare worker was ass on the best of days, better to not make his life anymore difficult.
Clearing her throat Christine spoke quietly. “Sorry….”
He was already shaking his head, tablet stowed as he leaned over to the bedside table, writing rapidly on the pad he had stored there. Now that she was looking around her room she could feel her eyebrows raising. This was the nicest hospital room she had ever seen. Shouldn’t I be in the ER…? Were private rooms this nice even a thing in Canada? And yet… something about it was so goddamn familair… “Uhm… doctor…”
He let out a little hum as he straightened those striking eyes capturing hers once more.
“Where am I?” No way was she at Montreal General Hospital, this whole place looked way too new and she hadn’t heard a single “tabarnak” even from the hallway.
He sighed and pulled off his glasses, tucking them into the pocket of his doctor's coat with sure fingers. The action drew her eyes to his chest where his badge swung, blue and bright against the white of his coat. Her brain fuzzed as she read it. No goddamn way…
“You’re at Akso hospital. You were brought in from the Bloomshore District by ambulance three days ago after being at the sight of an explosion. Do you remember it?”
“Wha-what?” Akso?! No… She stared up at him, frowning deeply. “Is this some sorta joke?!” Sick, it was goddamn sick if someone thought this was funny.
Her chest hurt the harder she breathed, air sawing roughly in and out of her lungs as this asshole wore the face of one of her favourite characters. “Listen-!”
Not-Zayne cut her off smoothly, hands gently pushing her back into the bed as she half rose to try and do something. “You were brought in after suffering sudden cardiac arrest related to the disruption of the protocore fragment in your heart. You coded on the operating table twice and died for exactly one minute and twenty-eight seconds before your evol kicked in and forced a resonance detonation which restarted your heart. You destroyed operating room three and nearly knocked out the attending staff as well as myself.”
She stopped, staring up at him as her face paled rapidly. Slowly her eyes drifted to her wrist where this not-Zayne was holding her carefully, his thumb smoothing over the bandage wrapped tightly around its circumference. Her brain vehemently denied his words even as something in her clamored. “That’s not…”
“It is.” His voice was insistent, hand tightening just barely. “Please stay seated. I am sending you for an MRI to assess if there was any lingering damage to your brain from the explosion.”
Panic, suddenly it was clawing, clamoring and fighting. “N-no, wait! This isn’t funny if you think-!”
“I assure you,” Zayne leaned forward, those striking hazel green eyes filling Christine's entire vision. Jasmine, lavender and antiseptic… there were scars on the hand that held her… Impossible scars, impossible hands, impossible eyes… “I am not joking about anything.” Words delivered he leaned back and gestured for the nurse who had been lingering at the foot of the bed this entire time. “Please monitor our Miss Hunter, neurology should page soon.” With that he was leaving, the white of his coat fluttering as he disappeared out the sliding glass doors and left her alone in the cavernous silence.
“Miss Termine?”
She blinked and met the eyes of the nurse suddenly standing beside her. “Yes?”
The nurse smiled kindly, gently smoothing the blanket that had been disrupted by her swift movements. “We began lowering your dose of pain medication two hours ago, how are you feeling overall?”
Christine blinked, tears burgeoning at the corner of her eyes. What the fuck is happening? “Uhm…” She sniffed hard, hands twisting. “I’m… nauseous and my head hurts.”
With a gentle nod the nurse helped her adjust her laying position, grabbing a tablet from the pocket on her uniform and quickly typing on it. “Naseau is a really common side effect of opioids so don’t worry. I’ll come back in a bit and check on you, okay? Also be careful of the bandages on your hands, they're quite burned and we don't want to disrupt the healing process. Dinner should be served soon, we’ll see about getting some food in you then. If the nausea or head pain gets worse press the button beside you, alright?”
She nodded dumbly, staring at the nurse's badge quickly before clearing her throat. “Thanks Yvonne…” What the hell…?
Another smile, another pat of a gentle hand and suddenly she was truly alone.
Silence. She laid there in it, panic clawing and anxiety burgeoning. “Okay…” She breathed quietly under her breath, old therapy sessions coming back as she forced herself to run through some calming exercises. “I can see the ceiling tile…” Christine swallowed hard, fingers clenching on the bed below. “I can feel the bed…” A deep breath, more tears fighting to escape. “I-I can smell antiseptic and cologne.” She choked, hands abruptly slinging forward and tightly clasping together, white knuckling as she bit down on her lip hard enough to make it bleed. “I can taste blood…” The confirmation was like a dam cracking, fear suddenly a writhing thing in her stomach. “What the fuck, what the actual fuck!” Adrenaline, it flooded her body and made the heart monitor beep, her fight or flight instincts kicking into full gear as she stared around the impossible fictional world she was laying in.
A coma? Am I living out some weird fantasy life while lying unconscious somewhere else?! Tears blurred her vision as she reached shakily for the cards she could now see resting on the bedside table. You can’t read in dreams… right? It didn't matter that she had read the two name tags before, her brain was probably just making her think she had read them. She pulled the closest one to her, something garish and pink, flashy and ugly. Right there in bright rainbow letters it proudly spelled out “Get Well Soon” in mocking sparkling font. She gagged, heaving as the monitor turned into a shrill screech on the wall and her heart pounded.
The sound of the door sliding open was white noise. Panic, it was unstoppable, it was consuming! Her legs jittered, hands fighting the lines attached to her with a sudden burst of energy. She had to leave! She had to run!!
Voices. They were loud where they thundered. Hands on her wrists, stopping her from pulling out the IV lines as she sobbed. A female voice was speaking calmingly but it was the male voice that arrested her attention. How could it not? After hundreds of hours of listening to it, of taking comfort in it and its presence? “Z-zayne.” She stuttered out his name as those impossible eyes met hers once more.
Christine was barely aware of anything as Zayne half pinned her, his voice strong as he spoke. “Yvonne, the lorazepam…” He leaned closer to her. “Breathe, it’s okay.” His eyes flicked from the card and back to her face, something pained cracking through his icy expression at last as Yvonne fluttered just outside her vision at her IV line. “I’m sorry I should have removed the cards until I told you-” He cut himself off as she cried, his face twisting and brow furrowing.
Told me about what?
The drug in her IV line hit her like a tsunami, heaviness flooding her limbs and drooping her eyelids. He released her as she settled, gently retucking her into the bed as those hazel eyes stayed trained on her. His words were nothing more than white noise, his hand barely felt where it smoothed back her hair as unconsciousness came for her in a swift, black wave.
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Waking was somehow worse than last time. Christine groaned as consciousness returned in stages. She wiggled her toes and fingers, counted her breaths and then counted them again. Slowly she peeled her eyes open. The headache inducing light sensitivity seemingly gone as she quietly peered around the hospital room, now lit with daylight seeping through the sheer blinds against the windows. Impossible. Slowly she raised her hands, inspecting them with dread. She started with her palms, the creases of them and the lines, breath hitching at the lack of familiar scars and the introduction of new ones. Burns… her hands were covered in them as were her forearms. Did MC try to crawl through the debris after the explosion? Had she tried to reach grandma and Caleb? It made her stomach roll to think about. This… body… she was possessing. Tears beaded the more she looked. Even her nails were different, shapely and trimmed neatly, for all that they were also burnt and cracked.
Shaky hands pulled on hair, long, so much longer than it should be and dark. She sniffed hard, trembling. The ombre colour she had so painstakingly dyed in was gone. Even the texture of it was different. Straight and smooth, silky even after days of lacking care. No curls. No split ends. No nothing! Her hands snapped down to her lap, clenching tightly causing pain to shoot through the raw skin. Please, this has to be a joke, this has to be….
She had no time to stew in it, the increased beeping of her heart monitor heralding the low whoosh of the door as a new nurse poked her head in.
“Oh! Ms! You’re awake.” She was shorter than Yvonne, older, with kind eyes and tanned skin. She bustled into the room with a tray steaming with rice and soup. Placing it before Christine the nurse talked all the while, adjusting her into a sitting position and asking questions. “You were unconscious when we took you for your MRI but the results should be in soon. Doctor Li will be back to discuss them with you once he’s done with his outpatient but in the meantime you’ve been cleared for some food! Isn’t that nice? Oh here dear, up you go!” With that she found herself fully upright, strong hands adjusting her pillows and placing an eating tray over lap. “How is your head? How are your eyes?”
“Uhm… they're better?” She couldn’t stop the questioning lilt to her tone at the absolute hive of energy that this woman possessed. A friendly chuckle and a gentle pat, a spoon and chopsticks were placed in her uncooperative hands. Christine stared down at them and then back up at the nurse, tears beading in her eyes. “Thank you…” Different… It was so different.
The nurse nodded again and smiled warmly. “Of course! Just hit the button if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay.” The words slipped out quietly as she stared down at the meal in her lap, barely noticing as the other woman left. No toast, no sausages, no eggs or maple syrup. No pancakes either and not even a shitty jello cup. Shaky hands grabbed the bright package to the side of the tray and read the flavor of the bun inside. Jackfruit… For some reason it was like the straw that broke the camel's back. A sob, once, twice: they burst past her lips without her permission as she wrestled with the sheer dysphoria suddenly crashing through her. No one would ever order something jackfruit flavored in a country known for being frozen most of the time.
For some reason she started shovelling the food in her mouth even as she hiccuped tears onto her face. Christine had started playing Love and Deepspace on a whim. She’d seen the little cat minigame of all things during the Cat Butler event and downloaded the game thinking it'd be something she played for a month and then dropped. At first she’d been confused. A convoluted story of twisting timelines, love and re-incarnation, a host of male leads who had been equal parts confusing and intriguing. Honestly that first text from Xavier where he just “found” MC’s number nearly had her deleting the game right then. How creepy! If a real life man had done that? Into the bin, it wouldn't matter how nice his face card was.
But then… over the course of days and months she has sunk into it. Loneliness. It was dominating… consuming. Was it so wrong to want to have someone to work out with? To have a host of nonjudgmental men in her phone who she could listen to and talk to, sleep with and eat with, fake people who wouldn’t judge her life and would make her feel seen? She had become attached. Giggling and kicking her feet both metaphorically and literally at the different banners and cards, diving deep into the lore of the myths and eagerly anticipating each release.
Christine stared around the hospital room as her stomach rolled. I never wanted to BE here though. She sniffed again, spoon clattering onto the tray as she gripped her head with both hands. MC’s life was shit. She fought monsters at a job that apparently overworked her while simultaneously giving her loads of time off. Everyone wanted her dead or wanted her heart and she might be some kinda goddess? And to top it off she had at least five guys who were all tied to her and had some flavor of killer stalker combo going on. Some more than others. Her skin crawled as she contemplated it. Souls shared and hearts given. Pressure, it was too much pressure. She was not MC. Christine couldn’t fight, couldn’t hurt a fly. She lacked MC’s playfulness and charisma. And men? MEN?! Suddenly she snorted out a wet laugh, wiping her face roughly. Fictional men? All day everyday. Real men? No thanks. The trauma of actual men was too much.
These poor bastards. Her hands tensed around her spoon before she simply continued to shovel more food into her mouth. “Since I’m not actually her though does any of this stuff apply?” Shouldn’t Sylus and Rafayel and all the others be tied to MC, not her? After all, her soul was her’s, not anyone else's. Surely after meeting her once they would all realize the love of their lives was gone. Dead. Buried. Unless MC was… inside her? She stilled at the thought, concentrating deeply. Seconds ticked by into minutes but no voice manifested, no emotion that was not her own. Something about that was comforting…
Sighing softly she refocused on her tray. Am I really in a goddamn otome game? A loud sniffle and more tears, they plopped into her soup in depressing ripples. There was no world in which any of these men would fall in love with her and quite frankly, she didn’t want them to. Christine shuddered, thoughts of big bodies and strong hands making fear zing up her spine. No, I can’t even think about it. Scary. Real men were goddamn scary. She played games to live vicariously through them. But… It would be nice if any of them wanted to be her friend. It’d make living here bearable at the very least.
Suddenly she groaned, spoon hanging from her mouth and hands in her hair. Mental break with reality or not, if all this was really happening, these men and their problems were the least of her worries. They could all screw off for all she cared, there was something far more pressing at play. “How the fuck am I going to fight wanderers?! How do I pay my bills?!” She burst into tears and sobbed, stuffing the jackfruit bun into her mouth and nearly choking on it. “I’m going to end up homeless!!!”
Into that mess Zayne walked, hazel eyes wide as he watched her cry on the bed and devour her bun with heaving breaths. He was by her side before she even realized, peering down at her from beneath his silver frames with a concerned tilt to his mouth. His hand was out, grabbing the bun before she could stuff more of it in her face. “Careful, you’re going to choke.”
She heaved in another deep breath and swallowed, staring up at him like he was her salvation. Zayne was safe. Zayne was stable. Zayne knew MC the most right now and best of all, MC had pursued him at the start of the game. As long as she didn’t flirt with him, Zayne wouldn’t try and make moves on her which meant he probably wasn’t going to stab her either. Should she tell him the truth? Should she lie?! Outwardly he blinked as she simply stared at him with a trembling chin.
At last she spoke, words blurted out in a heaving rush. “Zayne, I barely remember anything.” He tilted his head but she bullied over whatever he was about to say, squashing the bun anxiously. “I remember meeting you again at Akso and we met up at a cafe right? You made me a snow seal?” At his nod she continued. “Right okay, awesome. I took you to Raymond too, right?” Another nod. “That’s all I remember.”
“What do you mean?”
She pursed her lips and ground her teeth. Telling the total truth would get her thrown in the bin, telling mostly the truth though? Best she could do. “I mean… what I remember is all over the place. I don’t remember my childhood though I know I had one and you were there. I don’t remember university or my first job, I don’t remember my address or- or my banking password.” Tears again. “I don’t know how to pay my utilities or if I have student loans. I don’t remember any of my friends from university and I don’t know what size I am in clothes and-!”
Zayne squeezed her hand gently along with the bun, pulling his fingers back slightly as she heaved in deep breath after deep breath. “I understand.”
She blinked at him in shock. “You do?!”
He hesitated for a moment and then grabbed the chair by her bed, pulling it forward and sitting calmly. His calm calmed her, the threadiness of her breath slowing in increments. He removed his glasses and pinched the brow of his nose, a deep breath raising his chest before he settled. From the depths of his coat he pulled out a familiar black box, one with a fingerprint lock. Christine stared at it, then him, then back to it, eyebrows dipping down. All of his considerable attention was suddenly focused on her as he spoke quietly. “I didn’t want to give this to you today but it’s tied to what you’re experiencing right now.” He handed her the box and sat back. “But first, the extent of your memories. Do you remember your grandmother and Caleb?”
She nodded slowly and cut him off before he could speak. “I know they’re dead, Zayne.” Well, not Caleb… but at least as far as anyone here knows… Her hands picked at the bun as she thought of MC’s pseudo brother figure/childhood friend, anxious. Christine wasn’t a hero, she wasn’t a fighter. The vague thought of trying to help Caleb and save him from whatever was happening to him immediately sputtered and died. Not my business. However, her grandma and her brother. She felt like she was floating outside her body as a new thought crashed through her. Am I ever going to see my family again?!
Her life had always been lonely but what had never changed was her family. Her parents had died too early, a stupid accident taking both their lives before their children even reached elementary school. For all intents and purposes their grandma had been their mother, her and her brothers. That annoying little shit who was her ride or die, her rock and her longest companion. Will they be okay without me?! Tears again, they slid slowly down her cheeks and plopped onto her tray, grief, deep and cloying aching in her chest with the force of a hurricane. “I’m never going to see them again.” The words slipped out quietly while she viciously scrubbed her face. Awkward… so awkward to sit with this familiar stranger, him thinking she was mourning a family he knew. If she closed her eyes she could almost pretend she was just chatting with Zayne in the game, venting and listening to the calming sound of his breathing. She glanced up and cringed. What an intimidating man in real life, good god.
Zayne didn’t reach out to comfort, stiff as he bowed his head. “They would want you to take good care of yourself.”
“Right.” She rasped the word out and stared down at her tray, unable to make eye contact with him. He looked way too real, so much so that it made her uncomfortable. There were lines on his face, fine but there that the game never rendered, a five o’clock shadow was darkening his jaw and he had circles under his eyes. Stories and changes to his person that he had gained from a life lived. A real life. The scars on his hands were deep, she could see now that his sleeves were tightly buttoned around his wrist, stopping his coat or his shirt from moving any higher. Did he feel insecure about them? Did he worry about them? Suddenly she wondered in a way she never had before… and yet. What truly made it all so weird was his sheer physical presence. Digital and now real, god but it was intimidating. No doctor needs to be this jacked.
Zayne had been a comforting figure on her phone for nearly a year. She had adored watching him go from cold to warm, blushed and cheered as he had melted into a person who was as solid and steadfast as he was comforting in both MC’s life and her own. Christine loved all the love interests, much to her wallets endless tears, but Zayne had been the character who had gotten her to download the game. And now, he was a real man, breathing and shifting with hands that could cover her entire face and a height that was, quite frankly, alarming. Real men really were not it.
She pushed the thought away as his voice interrupted her spiral. Slowly she closed her eyes. Looking at him was making her anxious and she just could not handle it. “The device I gave you can explain more I believe, if I am correct on its contents. However, I will start by saying your lack of memory is not unprecedented. Your MRI came black clear. There is… another reason for your loss.” He hesitated just briefly before continuing briskly. “Before the explosion, Jospehine… warned me of the possibility of a strong evol reaction if you were seriously injured. She mentioned memory loss in the process.”
Christine's eyes snapped open as she stared down at the box on the table. He thinks I rebooted, like MC did as a child from all those crazy ass experiments. Her hand drifted to her chest, to the stupid shitty aether core she knew was there with a tremble. “O-oh.” It’s all she could think to say.
Zayne paused at her side, seemingly girding himself. “Christine.” Her name was a shock to hear in that voice, eyes jerking to his and widening. He was clenching his hands together on his lap, back so straight she felt pained just looking at him. He spoke slowly, carefully, gaze lowered. “It’s possible your memories might never come back. You might not remember but I do. Our childhood.” A deep breath, a rough exhale through his nose. Hesitant. He was so surprisingly hesitant as he wrestled with the words on his tongue. “You’re not alone.” She blinked, chest compressing almost violently as he spoke measuredly. “I… know it’s not my place. It probably feels very strange to have someone you barely remember offer you such things, perhaps even an overstep on a relationship that feels one sided… however, if you should wish it.” He swallowed and met her eyes, gaze tired but sure. “I’ll help you. Your concerns, your worries… you can bring them to me. I won’t abandon you.”
This fucking guy. She sniffled and shoved the rest of the bun into her mouth in one jerky move. MC had just died on his operating table. Good god the trauma of that, no wonder he was offering to stick close even as he so clearly looked uncomfortable. Outwardly she simply nodded, clutching her head as she chewed and swallowed. “Thank you Zayne…” She heaved in a deep breath and held it. “Thank you…”
As soon as the words left her mouth he was standing, tablet out and professionalism descending with such speed she felt like she was getting whiplash. “Of course. I imagine this is all very overwhelming. Shall we go over your test results now and next steps?”
What followed was a clipped and concise conversation. Her heart had been rattled and she had new metaflux channels growing??? As well as burns on her legs, chest, hands, and arms. She’d suffered a concussion, some minor hearing damage and to top it all off she’d sprained her ankle. Suffice to say, Zayne wasn’t going to be clearing her to go back to the Hunter’s Association anytime soon, not least because of her “memory” loss.
“Uh, Zayne.” Should I call him doctor? He stopped from where he had stood, adjusting the lines attached to her body. “I… don’t remember how to be a hunter…”
He blinked and tapped his hand against his opposite arm as he shifted them across his chest. “The Hunter’s Association has a plethora of retraining and physical therapy programs. It’s a dangerous job, they anticipate these sorts of situations to a certain extent.”
She swallowed hard and picked at her rice grain by grain. “O-oh okay.” I’m gonna get fired…
Zayne hesitated above her before speaking softly. “I’m sure your Captain will be reasonable but I will get in contact with them to ensure we have an appropriate plan in place for you to go back to work safely and in due time.”
Fuck, I can’t fight monsters. A new thought emerged. Do I have enough savings to NOT fight the monsters?! She forced the words down and nodded to him, still clutching the box he had given her and picking at her food. Suddenly her vision was filled with a black rectangle, rapid blinks making her realize it was a phone. She took it from Zayne slowly, hand swiping across the surface.
“I charged it for you after the police returned it.”
Silence, she stared at it as the password screen popped up on its cracked surface, a helpless feeling burgeoning in her chest. “Thank you but… I don’t remember…”
“Ah.”
He tapped the top of the bed briefly, a frown on his face as he stared at her burnt hands and the fingerprint button. “Perhaps you turned on facial recognition?” He leaned closer, jasmine, lavender and antiseptic filling her senses. Internally she quaked as he towered, cutting an intimidating silhouette in the soft light bleeding from the outside. “May I?”
“Of course.” She slid the phone back into his hands quickly, watching the flex of tendons beneath his skin as he swiped and abruptly faced the screen back towards her. Christine’s breath stalled at the face staring back at her, out of body dissociation descending immediately. The woman on the phone blinked, smooth skinned and beautiful, large eyed with professionally shaped eyebrows, a near total stranger. Her gut heaved viciously at the sight, hand coming up to cover her mouth in a strange sense of horror, brain zinging and protesting as the doppelganger in the device mirrored her.
There was no warning, bile fast and sharp, she heaved, throwing up all that wonderful breakfast onto her tray and Zayne’s lab coat in a dizzying rush of adrenaline. Man truly is a doctor. She thought in a daze as he quickly grabbed her hair and moved it out and away from her face, pressing the button beside her bed. “Ah, perhaps we should have started you with a lighter meal?”
Are you telling a fucking joke right now?! She heaved again, tears beading her eyeline as the nurse from before rushed back in. Together with Zayne her tray was taken away and her mouth was cleaned, the world was a blur as he and the nurse took her to the bathroom, the woman chattering calmly all the while. Reality returned as she sat in the shower on a chair, naked, bandages wrapped in plastic bags while the nurse from before wiped down her chest, Zayne long gone.
“Are you back with me dear?”
Christine blinked, eyes landing on the woman as she gently smoothed a cloth over her legs. “Y-yeah…” She glanced down at the nurses badge and stumbled. “Thanks Mayari…?”
A chuckle. “You are very welcome. We should have been more careful about what we fed you, hm? Though doctor Li did say you were putting it away like you were starving.”
For a moment, confusion reigned. Who…? Then she thumped her head into her free hand. Of course no one was going to refer to the lead cardiac surgeon at the hospital by his first name. What the HELL game?! “Yeah…. Haha…” She stared down at Mayari and shuffled awkwardly. “I can um… wash myself?”
“Don’t worry about it, we’re all done now. Can you use the toilet by yourself while I get you some fresh clothes or do you need help? We took out your catheter overnight so watch out, might feel a little spicy if you get what I mean?” Her cheeky wink made Christine chuckle.
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“Of course!’
Alone at last she sighed deeply, standing on shaky legs for the first time since landing in this strange world. Vertigo hit her immediately. She was shorter. “Fuck… fuck - FUCK!” Tears again, she was so goddamn sick of them, hopping on one leg like a newborn over to the mirror in the bathroom. It hit her again, the sheer out of body feeling of the stranger in the reflection. Slowly she touched her cheek, fingers trailing around her nose and over her lips, goosebumps bursting along her skin. Bizarre, this was so bizarre. The woman staring back at her paled, panicked eyes darting across her bandaged chest and arms, the healthy tan of her skin washing out in a wave as long hair slid forward. “At least… I sorta still look like me?” And she did. Like a terrifying version of herself that had been pressed to perfection and spat out of an explosion. I can’t look anymore.
Turning away from the mirror she stared down at the toilet and then down at her naked body. It felt wrong, so desperately wrong. It was humiliating, to sit on the toilet and disassociate but this body felt so foreign it was a miracle she had managed to accomplish her goal at all.
Mayari returned with a knock, waiting politely for her to finish and bustling her back to the bed in a wheelchair. Resting once more on cleaned sheets her phone was placed on the tray, the black lockbox next to it.
“I’ll be back in a bit!’
With that it was just Christine, the phone and the box. She ignored the box. In the end, she more or less knew its contents and honestly, Josephine was no one to her. All of that and all the implications behind the aether core would be a task for another day. The phone however…
Up it went, that stranger flashing once more in the cracked glass before the device unlocked, an array of apps unfolding on a boring, default background. She frowned at the sight of it, smoothing her thumb through the different pages slowly. Her eyes caught on one app in particular with an “M” icon, notifications bright and accusing where they flashed. With a tap it unfurled, familiar UI making her breath seize. “Moments is a real thing here…”
First she went to the messages. There were… depressingly few of them. She blinked in surprise. One from Captain Jenna wishing her a swift recovery, another from Tara and Gideon, all saying the same, condolences expressed and healing hoped for. The last one caught her attention, Rafayel's name highlighted with several missed notifications.
Rafayel: i think a certain miss bodyguard forgot sommeetthiinnnggg
A day later.
Rafayel: are you okay
A new message, marked just an hour ago.
Rafayel: did you get the thing
She hesitated, staring at the typing box with a pounding heart. Rafayel had been the only love interest that had reached out in the game after the explosion, right? She tapped the text box, swallowing hard as a keyboard appeared instead of preset prompts. This conversation was supposed to go a certain way. It felt… fully and finally like she had come full circle, the games UI colliding violently with reality. She couldn’t ignore it, even as she wanted to do nothing more besides throw the device and forget about it.
Hesitant fingers tapped, words forming.
Me: I haven’t received anything…?
She stalled, breath in her chest as his portrait lit up, a typing bubble appearing in moments. Real… this was real.
Rafayel: ?
Rafayel: asked a seagull to send you a white seashell why hasnt it arrived yet
Rafayel: …
Rafayel: hang on will check the reef over there seagull must have stashed it away
She blinked and re-read the messages several times, a laugh in her throat. He types just like in the game. Punctuation Rafayel!
Me: Why are you giving me a seashell all of a sudden?
Rafayel: i heard about what happened
Rafayel: idk maybe i just wanna find you something to do or maaaybe im worried youll forget me
Christine's breath seized at that last part, the phone cracking in her hand as he typed. Goddammit I’m so sorry Rafayel.
Rafayel: back in my hometown people paint their memories about the dead on seashells
Rafayel: they let the ocean deliver them to where souls rest
Rafayel: thought you might want one
Tears were beading at the corner of her eyes, blurring her vision. This whole interaction felt so… comforting and yet horrifying. Like she was sitting in her room and typing away in her game, her escape. At the same time, MC was gone. The woman he was speaking to was gone and never coming back.
Me: Thank you Rafayel, that’s very thoughtful of you.
Rafayel: why so polite im not used to this
Rafayel: anyway not in a hurry so take your time
Rafayel: hope next time we meet you have a smile on your face
She sighed deeply and groaned. If memory served her well, that should be the last of it right? Suddenly the phone buzzed, their chat lighting once more.
Rafayel: speaking of which are you cleared for visitors
Rafayel: seagulls are all well and good but some things should be delivered in person
Ice flashed down her spine, eyes bulging. He wants to meet in person…?
Me: I don’t know if I am?
A pause, that typing prompt once more on screen.
Rafayel: dun worry your pretty head ill figure it out
Oh no. The moment he saw her he would know, she was positive. MC and Rafayel, they had a bond, tied through centuries and lifetimes, unending and devastating. That bond should have been severed the moment Christine ended up pancaked by that stupid truck and transposed here. He’s going to kill me. The phone thumped onto the bed along with her hands as she stared around the hospital room in a daze. What else could he do when she was possessing the love of his life's body?!
Hours passed. Each flickering figure behind the frosted glass of her door sending her heartrate skyrocketing. Mayari returned at one point, meds given and a simple broth set on the tray, but she couldn’t stomach more than a mouthful, eyes constantly darting to the phone now resting, off and ominous at her side. More time ticked by. She turned on the TV and stared uncomprehending as news reports for Linkon City flashed by along with unfamiliar dramas and even more unfamiliar cooking shows. It was in the middle of learning how to fry fish balls that Zayne returned, his familiar figure cutting an intimidating silhouette.
She stared at his coat, fresh and cleanly pressed. Immediately she mentally groaned, deeply embarrassed. “Sorry for throwing up on you.”
He stopped at her side, the barest twitch of his lips betraying his amusement. “It’s fine. You get used to those sorts of things in healthcare.” Zayne cleared his throat lightly and met her eyes more firmly. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. Much less like death thanks to you and everyone else.”
He nodded and tapped on the tablet in his hand, hesitance colouring his voice as he spoke. “That’s good to hear. You should be discharged with a follow up plan in a few days. I want to keep you for monitoring a bit longer to ensure your heart doesn’t have another episode. Does that make sense to you?”
He was such a doctor, it was a bit wild to see. “Yeah.”
“Good.” He straightened and tapped the bed lightly. “How are your memories, have you had anything come back to you?”
Was he waiting for that? She shook her head, catching the barest droop of his shoulders as he went back to typing.
“I see. One final question. There is a visitor here to see you. Medically speaking, you’re clear, but I understand that it might feel strange to have someone you don’t recognize come and sit with you. Would you like to see them?”
Fucking shit Rafayel is here. Her heart thundered, Zayne’s hazel eyes arresting the words bubbling at the tip of her tongue. Part of her wanted to send him away, delay the inevitable and hide behind his doctor's coat. The rest however… I can’t put off seeing all these guys forever. They’re all going to show up one by one won’t they? “N-no. No it’s okay, he can come in…”
Zayne’s expression didn’t so much as twitch but for some reason the room felt a little colder. “As you wish. Would you like to disclose the nature of your memory loss yourself or would it be helpful to have me do it?”
This though she would take. “Please tell him. I don’t even know how to even begin to explain…”
He nodded, hesitating at her side before bending and tucking her blanket beneath her arm almost thoughtlessly. “Visiting hours are until 18:00, make sure to tell your guest that.”
She blinked at the gesture, trying to catch his eyes but he was already turning around and disappearing back through the door.
Anxiety roared as she fidgeted, waiting. She was terrified. The shadow of the man moving behind the door, another confirmation of being in some other goddamn world. He’s going to know I’m not her. Hysterically she clenched her hands on the thin blanket. Would he at least kill her quickly for replacing his beloved?! Christine held her breath as the door slid open and Rafayel came through. He was speaking to Zayne over his shoulder which was SUCH a strange thing to see. Had any of them… ever talked in game? Regardless it gave her a moment to take him in and calm her racing heart.
The first thing that struck her was his size. It had been easy enough to mentally view him as being “short” when the community had constantly compared all the love interests online but he towered, barely shorter than Zayne, lithe and muscular, shoulders broader than she expected. His voice had a familiar lilt to it, unthinkingly urging her to relax even as she stiffened like a board. He was dressed in a surprisingly subdued manner, a fitted coat and black pants, bags dangling from his hands and tapping against his thigh. His hair was striking. She stared at it, the purple tint and the blue highlights. Did everyone just think that was a hell of a dye job? It was practically iridescent.
Zayne caught her eye briefly but she was blind to it and his frown. She was staring, deeply, contemplatively, locked in her own head, unaware as Rafayel turned and caught her, conversation done. Too consumed she didn’t hear him clear his throat, was barely aware of his approach until he was inches from her bedside, a hand with painted nails waving in front of her face.
“Earth to Miss Bodyguard, are you there?”
She jerked like he had electrocuted her, paling. Silence. She couldn’t bear to meet his gaze, eyes skirting around the room desperately as she waited, breath held. It was going to happen anytime now. He’d notice his mystical bond or whatever he had with MC was gone and he was going to pull out his dagger and stab her! The two of them stayed that way, tension rising until abruptly Rafayel leaned forward, hand out. She jerked, eyes cringing closed and waited. And waited…
He huffed a soft laugh, the sound causing her to blink her eyes open and search his face. It was then that they finally made eye contact. Wow… “Beautiful….” The words slipped out as she stared into their depths. Oh the game had not done him justice … The colour of his eyes were captivating. Pinks and blues, dual toned and deep as the sea. They crinkled at the corners as he smiled. Good god, that is a face that could launch wars…
Rafayel let out a soft cough, flushing. It crawled across his cheeks and heated his ears at her quiet word. “Wow, Miss Bodyguard you’re gonna make me blush!” He fanned his face with his free hand, the other still held out and offered to her. “Your doctor told me you might not remember everything, which means this is either about to be hilarious or reaaalllyy awkward.”
She blinked, confused before slowly tilting her head down to stare at where he gestured with his chin to his hand. In it, he was holding a single red apple. Silence again and then it cracked through her, a laugh, loud and inelegant. This cheeky goddamn bastard. She had been so stressed, so scared. Tears blurred her vision as she laughed and laughed, helpless to it. At the door a figure stalled, staring through and stiffening, but for her it was just more white noise. What else could she do? “Y-you-!” She sucked in a desperate breath and took the apple from his hand while he stared at her with a smirk “Payback huh? Ha!! MC-” She cut herself off and shook her head, headache blooming. “I mean, I got you an apple from the goodness of my heart after a long day of hunting monsters. What’s your excuse?” Christine wiped at her face desperately and held the fruit up to the light to admire, chuckles still bursting from her lips in fits, avoiding Rafayel's eyes like her life depended on it. Guess that bond story happened…
“What do you mean? Why would I need an excuse? It was good enough for me? Riiigghhht?” He huffed and affected a pout, head tilting away imperiously as he drawled out his words. “This is the height of my affections, cutie, isn’t copying someone the most sincere form of flattery?”
She blew out a breath lightly, stressed little chuckles still slipping past her lips. “Oh I see… Don’t you know how mean it is to bully an injured person?” Really the audacity on him. Little fishie menace. She sighed around the thought, hand dropping back into her lap with a thump. Don’t look at him, don’t look at him…
At her side Rafayel shifted, purple hair edging her periphery as he leaned closer and gently tapped the back of her hand. “I know…” His voice was suddenly serious as he grabbed the free chair in the room and pulled it up next to the bed, settling in it and bringing the bags to rest on his lap. “I heard the basics from the news but… well.” He blinked away before focusing back on her intensely. “How well do you remember me…? Your doctor didn’t really say…” At her pause he huffed, leaning forward as if to share a secret. “Between you and me? Intimidating guy. Gave me the chills.” He faked a shiver that had her lips quirking slightly once more.
“Be nice.”
“Of course!”
With a deep breath she dropped her gaze to the apple, that burgeoning desire to cry still high in her chest. It was coming back… that feeling of dissociating. He was too real. Too present. I’m not dead yet though… “Honestly? Uh… not a whole lot. Sorry…” She cringed as she carefully watched his face from below the fringe of her hair. Poor Rafayel, afraid of being forgotten by the love of his life and here she was, parading around in her body. It made her stomach churn. “I do remember who you are though.”
“That makes sense. How could you possibly forget me again?” He nodded, expression surprisingly blank. Gently he patted her hand, a shiver crawling up her spine at the feel of his cool skin. The way his hand completely dwarfed hers… Goddamn why are they all giants?! “That’s okay cutie. You do remember the apple though, right? That counts for something…” He seemed to shake himself back from wherever his thoughts had taken him, smiling with the sort of warmth that should have been comforting but just made more alarm bells blare in her head.
“Yeah… I do…” She forced her eyes away again and cleared her throat. “I remember how we met and that I…. bodyguard for you sometimes? But uh… I don’t remember ever actually doing that.” She shrugged. “Sorry Mr. Rafayel, that’s probably not what you were hoping to hear.”
He gave her a full body cringe at her words, shifting back and pouting. “Okay. First off, don’t ever call me that ever again and secondly!” Suddenly he was closer, face filling her vision as he leaned in to catch the embarrassed flush of her expression. Too close!! “Don’t sweat it Miss Bodyguard, that’s why I’m here! I can fill you in! I know on paper we’re employer and employee but actually, we’re pretty good friends.”
Christine fought not to frown, hair raising slightly on her arms at his benign expression. That was not the impression I got from this point in the main story… “O-oh? We are? Well…” She trailed off as he stared up into her face with an amused quirk to his lips. Finally she settled on speaking simply. “That’s nice.”
He chuckled, agreement evident in the playful bow of his eyebrows. “Mhm-hmm! Why else would you come visit me in the hospital and vice versa? And anyway,” He grabbed the apple in her hand and bopped the top of her head with it playfully. “We’ve always hung out in person so I had to come see you, yeah?”
She squinted at him. “Uh-huh.” If Christine hadn’t been as deep into the lore of the game as she had been, she might have been thrilled to be in Rafayel's presence. From all accounts, he was aloof, sassy, funny and charming. A little whiny, sure! But he was, on paper, someone you would want to get to know. She compressed her lips as she watched him settle back in the chair, digging through the bags on his lap with swift movements. However, below the surface, despite all the red flags strapped proudly to Caleb’s chest and flickering around Xavier and Sylus, Rafayel was the real scariest love interest. She would have bet her savings on it if she still had them. He was obsessed. Hidden, smoothed over, like one of his paintings… but he was bound to MC for eternity. That sort of toxic relationship, though slowly resolving in the game, was not one that bred healthy thoughts, boundaries or anything else. The thought of it made her want to get up from the bed and sprint out the door.
She was drawn back to reality as something soft plopped into her arms, bright yellow and vibrant. “Wh-?”
“You probably don’t remember but at the arcade, you really wanted this one.” His eyes were as expectant as they were hesitant.
Christine blinked and stared down to where Artsy Birb was sitting in her arms. The Tender Moments four star memories, this had been one of them… right? How many of them had happened?! How far along was MC with all these guys? Outwardly she spoke quietly. “I did…” Trembling hands scooped up the soft toy, holding it up to the light and admiring the cast of its plush fur. “How many tries did it take you to get this?”
“Listen, we’re not gonna to talk about that, okay? Let’s just say the arcade owner is a liiitttttle bit richer.”
Another laugh puffed out her chest. Slowly she tucked the plushie under her chin and hugged it tightly, ignoring the sting of her burned hands as she closed her eyes and hid her face. “Thank you, Rafayel.” Genuinely, it was a very sweet gesture.
“No need to thank me, cutie! I’m just happy to see you smile.” He was still digging through the bags as she surreptitiously peeked at him, relaxing the longer he didn’t pull out a dagger and stab her. I’m sitting and chatting with a video game character… It was truly an out of body experience. Next onto her tray white seashells appeared along with a small container of mixed paints. He hesitated at her side, brushes arranged neatly. “You don’t have to do anything with these if you don’t want but I did want to bring them to you. If it would help-.”
Christine stared as Rafayel cut himself off, something briefly vulnerable in the lines of his shoulders. He was sharing Lemurian traditions with her, it was… really kind. She sniffed hard, thoughts of her family once more at the forefront of her mind. There was no funeral to be had for them. The two of them were still safe, at home. It was her they would be mourning, her they would light candles for and plant a tree for in the forest. In a daze she slowly shifted one of the seashells on the tray, energy bubbling and frothing under her skin. “Please… I think… I’d really like that.”
He looked relieved, popping up abruptly from the chair and chattering. “You got it! Let me go bug the nurses for a cup of water, I’ll be right back!”
Alone with her new plushie and the seashells she sighed deeply. “I really am here…” Acceptance settled into her bones as she opened the container and the smell of paints wafted through the room, flipping the shells she gently ran her fingers across their smooth interior. At last she allowed some of her grief to sink through her chest, eyes sliding closed and scrunching together. For many people, this would be the height of fantasy, a release from their reality and the monotony of daily life. For Christine it was something of a nightmare. A life she had been building cut violently short and transposed instead to a world that had once been her source of comfort. What would she do now?
She cried quietly at the thought, clutching the plushie and feeling the texture of the shells, inhaling the scent of paint and tasting the lingering remnants of soup on her tongue. She hadn’t gotten this far in life just to be someone who gave up when life threw its hurdles. It would be hard. It would be fucking scary but she would get through this. The thought became a mantra as her hands tightened, breathing deepening.
A hand, gentle where it smoothed over hers on the shells. It shocked her, eyes snapping open and body jerking as Rafayel stood hesitantly by her side. He cut a sharp silhouette as he leaned closer to her face, his other hand reaching for her cheek. Fear, it arced through her like lightning, he was too close!!! She wrenched back hard, nearly upending the tray as she scrambled back from his touch like he had burned her.
“Don’t!” her voice was vehement as she avoided him.
He flinched like she had slapped him, hands retracting so fast they became a blur. “Sorry!” He looked shocked at her move before his face smoothed over. “I guess it would be really weird to have some guy you don’t remember all that well touch you so casually… sorry cutie. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
She shuddered and looked away, counting her breaths and avoiding his eyes. This. This reaction was exactly why she was the worst person to be dropped into this world. Girding herself she forced a smile. “No, sorry you just… really startled me.” Desperate to change the subject she carefully placed the shells back on the tray and gestured for him to come closer even as her body screamed at her to push him away. “Can you teach me more about your traditions? I'd like to do this properly.”
Rafayel hesitated, she prayed in the recesses of her mind that he wouldn't question, would just… sit and attribute her jumpiness to memory loss and grief. It felt like he was trying to peer into the depths of her soul and pass judgement. Perhaps this would be the thing that would tell him that she was not his beloved bride? Christine tensed at the thought, hands fisting on the table with nerves.
After what felt like an eternity he simply shrugged and sat, distance now maintained between them as he spoke carefully. “You don't have to do it my way Miss Bodyguard. It’s about expressing what you want to say about your family. What thoughts you hope to send to wherever they are.”
Grateful that he was letting it go she dipped her head and focused. “Will you paint one with me?” Her gaze flicked to his face, highlighted by the light of the sun through the window, casting him into truly spectacular relief. He really was beautiful.
He snorted lightly and smiled. “Of course.”
She settled into it then, painting, of all things, with Rafayel. It was an out of body experience. The rasp of their brushes, the low thrum of his voice when they occasionally spoke. It was honestly… comforting, so similar to the game quality time feature that when she glanced up and caught him staring at her she simply smiled in response. It relaxed her, gave her peace, a release from the constant burgeoning anxiety of the last day.
Time flew like that, the sun slowly setting as she painted the first shell in vibrant greens and blues, memories of the last time she had visited her grandma's house and seen her brother vented onto the surface. On the second she thought of MC, of the life she had stolen. On that one she painted for Caleb, for Josephine and for the others. Purples and oranges, reds and blues, A star, a snowflake, fire, energy and gravity. In the centre was a single unicorn, a symbol of the hunter whose life she was now living. As she finished Chiristine stared, heart heavy and aching. Quietly she whispered under her breath. “I'm so sorry.”
“Hm?” Rafayel shifted, jolting her from her reverie. She had forgotten he wasn’t just a screen in the game for a moment. She hunched as he peered over her shoulder. “That's an interesting design choice…”
He was curious, she could see it in the tilt of his eyebrows and the lean of his body. But this… this was just for her and for MC.
With a gentle smile she shrugged, batting a finger beneath her eye to catch the tear that had beaded there. “Thanks.” Curious she glanced down at his shell, breath catching at the stunning mix of colours swirling and contouring each aspect of it. “Good god, did we even use the same paints?!” His talents had not been exaggerated in game.
He chuckled lowly and shrugged, a faraway cast to his gaze. “Practice makes perfect.”
Her heart stopped, the double layer of his meaning not lost on her. Slowly her eyes drifted back to his shell, fingers tightening around her paintbrush. Had he painted these for all the Lemurians he had lost? It wasn't her place to ask. Wasn't something she should even know.
She was saved from responding by the sound of the door opening, Zayne standing on the threshold with an expression carved from stone. “My apologies Mr. Qi, but visiting hours are over and it's time for Ms. Termine's medical evaluation.” Inwardly she frowned at the sight of him. Surely a nurse should be the one to…?
“Has it been that long already?” Rafayel affected a pout and heaved a deep sigh, straightening his back with a long stretch. He turned to her then, capping the paints and grabbing the water. “Well, you heard the man cutie, time for me to make my exit, yeah? Text me when you get out of here okay?” As she nodded he stood, setting the apple he had brought on her tray and gently tapping the drying seashells. “Want me to keep these safe until we can return them to the sea?”
“Oh, yes please.”
He smiled again, gentle and warm. Carefully he folded the shells into a case he'd had hidden in the bottom of one of the bags before turning back to her, ignoring the burn of Zayne's stare as he abruptly leaned closer. Violently she fought the urge to flinch but she failed, cringing just slightly at his proximity. He didn't hesitate though, patting Artsy Birb and tilting his head in faint amusement. There was something, knowing in his gaze as he judged her reaction. “Until then Miss Bodyguard…” His eyes lingered for a moment, her heart racing at his scrutiny before with a little nod and a wink he bustled out of the room.
At his departure she slowly let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, shoulders deflating and stress bleeding. It felt like she had passed a veritable gauntlet.
“Did you have fun?”
She snapped upright and flushed, Zayne now standing by her bed. He was staring at the plushie in her arms with a blank expression, fingers clasping a stethoscope and clipboard tightly. The flex of the tendons in his hand was the only betrayal of his calm. Christine flinched internally at the sight and forced a smile. “Yes. He was sharing his family tradition about celebrating the life and death of loved ones.” She picked at the paint on her fingers and shrugged. “It was very kind of him.”
Zayne let out a soft hum, encouraging her to sit up and sliding into the chair Rafayel had vacated. “I wasn't aware you and a famous artist were so well acquainted."
She blinked and gave him a deadpan look. “Yeah me neither.”
That seemed to release him from whatever thoughts were corralling his mind, the faintest of smirks curling at the corner of his lips. “Indeed.” He scooted closer on the chair and gestured for her to come closer. “Your body please, I need to listen to your heart.”
What a way to phrase that. She blushed against her will at the sound of his voice saying those words and scooted closer, ignoring the beat of her heart and focusing firmly above his head. He ran her through her medical checks, asking questions and checking her vitals. At the end he slid a candy from his pocket and placed it on her tray as he stood, missing the amused crease to her lips as he resettled his pen in his pocket.
“Dinner will be in a few minutes, please make sure to eat carefully this time.”
“Of course.”
He paused then, hand tapping against his thigh once, a staccato beat that belayed his affected calm. She waited patiently as he stared down at her. At last he spoke. “For your discharge, do you have a way to get home?”
Immediately she paled. Home? Christine had no idea where MC's apartment even was!! He must have understood, head dipping. “Do you have anyone who could come and pick you up?”
Slowly she shook her head, fingers clenching tightly into fists. Sure, would Rafayel come grab her? Yes. Did he probably know exactly where she lived? Also yes. But despite their little art bonding session she felt uneasy at the idea. MC and Rafayel hadn't been that close. Not yet. She was practically certain of it, and Rafayel… well… the longer she spent in his presence the more likely he would realize something was wrong.
Zayne sighed softly and then nodded to himself. “Like I said before, I'll discharge you within the next few days, I can take you home then if you'd like?” She blew out a relieved breath as he continued to speak. “Addtionally, please make a list of things you're unsure about. I should be able to help you get back up to speed on day to day life.”
Bless this man. “Thank you Zayne, I really appreciate it.”
A simple incline of his head in response and he was gone, the room empty once more.
The evening passed that way, dinner delivered and eaten, phone unlocked and rifled through. Christine sifted through the images on MC's gallery and the notes in her apps. She responded to Tara, Captain Jenna and Gideon, taking their well wishes with a guilt heavy stomach. All of it culminated into a picture that disturbed her. Alone. Had MC really been so alone?! She sat with the thought as the lights dimmed and Yvonne helped her hobble to the bathroom. Contemplated it as she laid in bed and willed sleep to come.
Into that half awake/half asleep state she tossed and turned, time ticking by like molasses. So loud was the buzzing of her thoughts she almost missed it, the sound of a footstep where there should be none. Immediately her body stiffened. Someone's here… Feigning sleep she kept her eyes tightly shut as whoever was in the room with her slowly approached the bed. They were quiet, but heavy, so much so they couldn't completely mask the ruffle of their clothes.
Christine could feel their presence as they hovered over her, scanning her from head to toe. The person did nothing. It was uncomfortable… It was deeply disturbing. Unable to take it she pretended to shift, Artsy Birb brought up to her face as she buried herself into it. There, in the shadow of its plush and her hair did she just barely squint her eyes open.
Dark clothes and polished shoes, a masculine hand with long fingers. In the reflection on the glass of the window she could see more of his silhouette, tall and broad shouldered. But what arrested her attention was his hair, it was pale, nearly white.
Her head buzzed, dizzying thoughts colliding. Was this Xavier? No, he had no reason to be here… no reason to even think to check on MC. At this point in the story he was still in full on avoidance mode. A new thought settled, terrible and dreaded in her chest. Sylus…?
Panic crawled through her veins at the thought. MC and his souls were bound together, truly and utterly entwined with a depth that was dizzying. He must have felt it, must have known the second MC died and Christine took her place. She wanted to throw up, fear carving her body to stone. What would he do to her? She shook at the thought, uncontrollable trembles arcing through her limbs. She had liked Sylus as a character so much. He had grown and changed from that first terrible meeting into someone who was both soft and fierce, vulnerable and strong. Yet that was only for MC. He'd truly end her in a second if he thought it would bring his soulmate back.
Movement, it had her fingers tightening on Artsy Birb almost desperately. He was getting closer, towering and terrifying. She closed her eyes and waited, breath catching, body chilled. The rasping sound of fabric was confusing, the feel of it shifting even more so until she realized he was pulling the blanket up and over her, settling it high on her shoulder from where she had kicked it to her waist. What…?
A sigh above her head and the rustle of clothing and then… nothing. He was gone. Christine blew out a desperate breath and clung to the plushie for all she was worth, ignoring the sting of her hands. Truly… she was truly here… Someone like her, a silly app developer turned Deepspace Hunter, a normal woman transposed into the hero of an otome game. A woman who, unlike most, had no desire to be in this world at all.
She sniffed quietly and hid her head in the blanket. I am so royally screwed…