A strip of cool moonlight illuminated her eyes, though the rest of her face was hidden by the shadows in which she stood. The steady beep of a heart monitor filled the air, softly shrill if that was possible. The moonlit eyes never left the young man who lay on the bed beside the heart monitor, his chest rising and falling gently.
She had stood there for nearly three days now, since they had brought him in, unobserved by everyone else. Silently, she stood vigil by his bedside.
Still there had been no change. Still he lay as still as death, his hair splayed across the pillow like a halo. And still she watched, her never crying eyes never leaving his still form.
The suddenly swooshing of the door did not draw her eye away from him. But the hand laid on her shoulder did.
Blue eyes met dark, as she stared at him in surprised. Then, since he had been brought in, she spoke.
"What do you want?" Her voice nearly surprised her. It was rougher then she remembered, harsher. She sounded colder, like the icy fingers wrapped around her heart had grasped her vocal cords as well.
"You have to get some rest." He pleaded, his voice soft in the dark.
"No." She said simply.
"Killing yourself is not going to make him wake up any faster." He hissed it in her ear angrily. He grasped her shoulder in an almost painfully tight grasp.
"No." She said again, yanking her shoulder back from his grasp.
The man hissed in annoyance, and grasped her arm again. "Either get some rest, or I'll get Hank down here to sedate you."
"You wouldn't."
"Bet?"
The woman looked up at him with a twisted face, then turned from him again. "I won't leave him alone."
"He's wouldn't know if you did, mijita. He's in a freaking coma!" He reminded her.
The woman felt another icy stab at her heart and didn't look at him. "He knows I'm here."
"You just don't know that." The man snapped back.
"Yes, I do. I can feel it." She said so softly that he had to strain to hear it.
"You can feel it?"
"I can feel it."
"Your stubborn as hell."
The woman didn't say anything, just continued to watch the man lying on the bed breath with the aid of machines.
"You can't blame yourself."
"It was my fault"
"IT WASN'T!"
The blue eyed woman turned from him, ignoring his protest. What he said was a lie.
"Look at me." The man ordered, grasping her shoulders and twisting her around. "Look at me."
The girl looked up at him, and finally, the tears began to fall, for the first time since he had been brought in.
"It was my fault…I shouldn't have needed him too…I should have been able to…" Tears fell like rain, as the woman clutched the front of her friend's shirt, leaving small drops of moisture on the blue tee shirt.
Neither of the two noticed the steady increasing of the heart monitor. Neither noticed when the bright blue eyes of the comatose man opened.
"Tabitha…?" He croaked, his voice rough and racking.
Tabitha pulled herself away from Julio and threw herself down beside the bed. "Sam!"
"You…okay?" He asked, lifting a trembling hand to run his fingers through her short hair.
"Oh God, I'm fine. Oh Sam, I'm so sorry!"
He pressed his lips gently against her mouth, his eyes never closing. He pulled back and laid his head against her shoulder.
"For…what?"
"It was…it was my…fault this happened." Tabitha said, her voice breaking. Sam shook his head best he could.
"Not your fault."
"That's what I tried to tell her." Rictor spoke up, coming to stand by Sam's bedside. Sam looked at him, and nodded, trying to smile.
"Thank… you."
"Don't mention it."