#self para1

[delilahxcarrow]

Time doesn’t get any easier

TW: Death mentions, some light abuse mentions

A bouquet of white lilies in hand, Delilah carefully walked among the tombstones in the cemetery. She had thought that picking out the bouquet would be the easiest part—but she had been wrong. She didn’t know what her sister’s favorite flower had been, and standing in the florist among all of the flowers had been far more overwhelming than she could have ever imagined. Did Gisela love roses? Or daisies? What about peonies? The florist had dozens of different bouquets, dozens of different flowers, but looking at them didn’t make it any easier. It had felt like a stabbing pain in her heart over and over again, as she was reminded of how much she didn’t know about her sister, and now she would never know because someone had taken her away from her.

It had been at the suggestion of one of the florists, that white lilies were generally seen as funeral flowers, that she had decided on them. They were quite beautiful, and she thought that Gisela would have liked them. And there was just something…beautiful about the white lilies that she was drawn to.

Delilah realized that she hadn’t been to her sister’s grave since the funeral. She hadn’t been able to stomach walking into the cemetery, and she hadn’t wanted to relive that day, or the days before it. Every time she thought about the day her sister was murdered, she heard her husband’s words thundering in her mind. That’s the Dark Mark, Delilah. If the Dark Lord willed this, then she deserved it. She shuddered at the memory, at the sound of her husband’s voice. She remembered yelling at him, walking away from him.

But it had been nearly five months since her sister was murdered, and she felt a pull towards the cemetery. She had been feeling it for several days now, and almost like a magnet, she found herself walking towards the grave, not needing a map or directions. Despite only coming here once, she had memorized where the grave was, and she knew that she could do it in her sleep. The funeral was imprinted on her memory, and she found herself drifting towards it. Delilah laid the flowers down in front of her sister’s headstone.

Gisela Rosier

Beloved Daughter and Friend

She knelt down in front of the grave, her fingers running over the engravings on the tombstone. It was ironic, what her parents had picked; beloved was hardly the word to describe Gisela when she was around. They had all been so cruel to her, but of course her parents had wanted to rewrite history when Gisela was gone. They wanted to place themselves as the great parents, as the grieving parents. But Delilah didn’t buy it. She hadn’t bought it that day, and she certainly didn’t now, five months later.

“Hey,” she said softly. “I’m…I’m sorry for not coming sooner. I just…it’s been hard. I didn’t want to believe that you were gone…and things have fallen so-so out of control.”

She paused, feeling the tears coming. It felt like it had been forever since she had cried over her sister. She hadn’t let herself. Delilah didn’t want to be vulnerable in front of her husband; she didn’t want to give him any reasons to be upset with her, although…she supposed she had given him plenty of reasons lately, although she thought that she was being fairly secretive about speaking with Alaric, her meeting with Andromeda…and Edgar.

“Emma’s up there with you now…I’m glad that you’re not so alone anymore. Even though it’s a shame what happened to her. More and more people keep dying, Gisela. Sometimes I worry that I’m next,” she frowned. “I’m sorry,” she finally broke down, the sobs wracking her body.

“I know that I was an awful sister to you. I was so awful. I regret it so much. I wish you were here. I wish…I wish I could come to you for advice. There’s nobody that I can talk to. Nobody that I trust…I’ve been keeping secrets from my husband. And I’m terrified that if he finds out that he’ll kill me. I did something bad, Gisela. Really bad. I think…I think I’m falling in love with another man.”

It seemed so dramatic, but it was true. She felt more for Edgar than she did for any other man. Thinking about him made her happy, that night that they had spent at the bar had been so much fun, she had felt young and free, and like she didn’t have any worries. And she thought about that night at the ball, just talking to him. It had made her so happy, it had made her night before Amycus had been brought into questioning and ruined it.

But on the other side, her feelings for Edgar were dangerous. Amycus already had questioned her about the gossip that the Prophet was posting, and if he ever really suspected something, she was sure he would lash out. That he would do something.

“You would like him, I think. He’s…he’s nothing like Amycus. He works in law enforcement and he’s just…he’s so kind. I wish things were different. I wish that I could be different. But…I wanted to be Mother and Father’s perfect daughter. I wanted to make them proud of me…I wanted them to love me.” She paused, more tears falling. “It’s why I was so awful to you, Gisela. And I’m so sorry. It wasn’t worth it. I was never worth it. If I could take it all back… if I could take it all back, I don’t know if I would have gone through with the wedding. I don’t know…if I would have married Amycus. Sometimes things are so good with us. It surprises even me. Sometimes we smile and we laugh…but other times…other times I’m so scared of him finding something out, of him getting angry. I still am afraid of his anger, and of his anger being targeted at me.”

She reached up and wiped her tears away. “I spoke with Alaric. Or well, he sent me a letter. He’s engaged again. I’m…I’m really happy for him. I think that you would be too. Everyone says that his new fiancée is sweet. He says that she makes him happy. And that makes me happy for him. It makes me really happy for him. He deserves to be happy.”

Delilah looked at the headstone and frowned. “There is so much that I don’t know about you. That I never bothered to learn about you. And I’m so…I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could take everything back. I wish I could be strong like you, Gisela. You were so strong. You didn’t care what our parents said or thought. You didn’t care about what anybody said or thought about you. And I was so stupid, I didn’t see it. I’m sorry. I wish…I wish I could tell you in person. I wish I could see you again, I wish I could talk to you again. It’s not fair. None of it is fair.”

The tears started to flow again as she looked down. Being here was hard, even five months later. Acceptance was difficult and Delilah didn’t think that she was there yet. Even though she knew that Gisela wasn’t coming back, that she was really gone, she hadn’t really accepted that she would never get to say all of these things to her sister. She wouldn’t be able to get her sister’s advice, that she couldn’t make amends with Gisela. It was a gut-wrenching feeling, having so many unknowns about her sister.

“Watch over us all, okay? Especially Andromeda…I think that she needs it, Gisela. I saw her a few days ago…and she’s so broken about Emma’s death. Please keep her safe, okay? I know that you are watching over us all. And… I promise I’ll come back. It won’t be five months next time,” she said. “Oh… and I hope you like the lilies. They’re really pretty, aren’t they?”

[liam-gray-blog1]

First Impressions Burn the Brightest || Self-para

You've been on my mind from the day we met and ever since the time I cannot forget the look in your eyes, the smile on your face, the words you spoke so soft, they can never be erased.

Stealth was never Liam’s strong suit.

Even before the Light, when he was a perpetrator in thievery and mischief, he never cowered in the shadows where nobody could see him. To Liam, if he was going to be a troublemaker and break the rules, there was no point going through life unnoticed.

Action - it was part of the fun when it came to playing by his own rules. Running and leaping over obstacles with a wallet in a hand and childish glee in his head, Liam always found the most satisfaction in turning around to find nobody trailing his path.

However, ever since Liam had to step up and embrace the role of leader of Inferno, going through situations with a one-track mind started to lead into dead ends. Though there was nothing more delightful than leaving his legacy through flames and burned rubble, Liam had to take care of more than just himself nowadays. To sacrifice himself would be to sacrifice his team, his family, which was how he found himself slinking along the inner castle walls with Jerome by his side. 

If the situation were a little more laid-back, then Liam would almost laugh at a distant memory of him and Jerome breaking into countless abandoned and restricted buildings just for the hell of it. But this wasn’t just two teenagers skirting the law with booze and laughter.

This was a stealth mission to gain more information about the Delacroix. 

Just thinking about the name itself made Liam’s lips curl into a sneer as he watched a guard pass from afar. 

That dreaded family had done nothing for Liam except rip away his parents away from him before he could even walk. Though Liam never got the chance to know his parents, he was always told stories by his grandparents about the people they were, and that they died with honor. 

Liam’s only images of his parents were the few worn, black and white photographs that his grandparents showed him from time to time. Liam never missed them - after all, he couldn’t miss what wasn’t there to begin with - but there was always a hollowness sitting firmly in his chest whenever he looked forlornly at a happy family meandering through town. 

Though Liam’s parents may have died with honor under the Delacroix rule, he swore to himself that he would live and leave his legacy behind while the Delacroix name lay in ashes. 

“Are you ready?” Jerome’s quiet voice broke through Liam’s thoughts, causing him to turn towards his trusted companion.

Liam smiled, less than lightly nudging Jerome in the arm before fixing the hat on his head.

“Ready when you are, Alistair.” Liam winked, letting the fake name roll off his tongue, making Jerome snort out of amusement.

“Let’s make this quick, shall we?” Jerome drolled in an over-the-top accent.

“God...shut up, dude,” Liam said between snickers. “If we’re lucky, we won’t have to make much conversation and we can duck out before any of them recognize us.”

With a nod from Jerome, they slipped through the doors and diverged from each other, into the giant crowd.

People littered the gigantic ballroom, all donned in their best dresses and suits. Slender champagne flutes rested in almost everyone’s hands as servers walked around, tending to the people. The floor was undoubtedly buffed, the tables polished so meticulously that Liam could see his own reflection in the shiny wood. 

“The king’s getting more and more decrepit with age, and yet he still finds the time to host these lavish birthday parties each year...” Liam muttered under his breath, slowly making his way through the throng of people, being careful not to hold eye contact with anyone for too long.

Though Liam had to admit that the hor d'oeuvres were a beautiful display, he never quite understood the need for such lavish luxuries. A ballroom bigger than 5 of his own houses, gold statues - it was just all too much and bordered on desperation of showing everybody how big the king’s dick was. 

There came to a point in wealth where it was simply excessive overindulgence - an idea that the Delacroix seemed to just adore.

At least...all but one Delacroix.

Liam squinted, letting his steps halt to a stop when he saw what appeared to be a young princess covertly kicking off her diamond encrusted high heeled shoes underneath her long dress. She took a quick look around before proceeding to hide her now bare feet under her gown as she buoyantly glided along the floor, evidently separating herself from the rest of her family. 

Emilia. 

The name fluttered in Liam’s mind as he watched her brown hair drift elegantly behind her. Liam knew of the Delacroix family, but had never seen Emilia until this day. She clearly had a place to be, and her destination seemed to be that of the table of hor d’oeuvres. 

Liam snorted, admittedly amused at her excitement over luxurious food that she probably had the chance to eat every single day. Moving slowly through the crowd, eyes never leaving the woman, Liam adjusted his position to take a better look.

For the sake of the mission, he told himself. 

Unlike the rest of Emilia’s family, she seemed so...bright. So unburdened by the power that was held in the name, Delacroix. Watching as she laughed and squealed at the sight of her friends, talking to them without caring about the food still in her mouth, Liam was fascinated. 

Emilia just seemed so innocent in Liam’s eyes that nothing could convince him in that moment that she was like the rest of the Delacroix family. Emilia certainly looked the part with her frills and her gown, but one glance at her forgotten, undoubtedly expensive shoes in the corner of the room was enough to make Liam wonder if maybe...she broke as many rules as Liam on a daily basis. 

A troublemaker under the guise of a poised Delacroix, Liam mused to himself. 

Liam’s intrigue was piqued, and against his better judgement, he took a step forward towards the princess. Liam just wanted to know more, wanted to know more about this woman that was making him throw everything he knew about the pretentious Delacroix family out the window. 

If Liam could just get a little closer...

“Captain, we should go,” Jerome’s voice shattered his fantasy, and Liam turned to him, momentarily in a daze before shaking it off. “I’m starting to get some stares.”

Liam nodded in understanding, but couldn’t help look back to see if Emilia was there. Unsurprisingly, she vanished from view, making Liam wonder why there was an ounce of disappointment squeezing his chest.

“You’re right.” Liam mumbled quietly, turning his back to the ballroom and making his way towards the doors with Jerome in tow.

“Let’s go. We can always find a way back next time.” Liam glanced behind him, making sure Jerome was right there with him. And though he told himself that was the only reason, Liam found his gaze wandering, searching for that bubbly woman again with no success.

Slipping back outside, Liam knew that he now had another reason for coming back within the proximity of the Delacroix family. 

Perhaps, if he played his cards right, Liam wouldn’t need to sneak around for more information about the Delacroix if there was a certain Delacroix herself willing to help him. 

A far-fetched plan, but it allowed Liam to think back to the fresh-faced beauty that was Emilia. 

Liam knew that he wouldn’t be forgetting her so easily, and he knew in his heart that that wouldn’t be the last attempt to try and get closer to her. 

[sebastiannorwood]

     If it had not been for the sunlight streaming through the window, the incubus may not have woken quite so soon. He had hoped for a long rest uninterrupted by anything other than his own sweet dreams, but that was not to be. Sebastian could feel the light daring to crawl in through the gaps in his eyelids before anything else, and while his body was still exhausted, his mind was more than awake by that point. After everything he'd been through, he'd at least hoped that he would be able to at least wake up on his own terms, but apparently not. Before he rolled over to get himself out of bed he lifted a hand to his neck, making sure that the bite had in fact healed itself. Cold fingertips ran over the smooth skin of his neck and Sebastian sighed softly in relief. There was no trace that anything had happened to him, and thankfully Jeremiah was not still there to remind him of what he'd needed to do in order for him to heal.

     As he finally lifted his torso away from the mattress, Sebastian outstretched his arms and breathed in the fine, sweet smells of the Irving household. From being almost murdered to waking up here, Sebastian had come a fairly long way thanks to Katherine and her intern - he felt invincible. Before thinking about ways to repay his friend - if he was even allowed to call her such a thing - Sebastian decided that he would spend a while admiring his surroundings and relishing in his quick recovery. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, thankful that his underwear was still intact - why the curtains were open anyway was a mystery, but it wasn't as though he was going to panic too much if anyone had been glancing in from across the street. He knew he was built well, and often times it was that alone that allowed him to draw in his prey. Perhaps he had never taken enough time to appreciate the perks of being an incubus, but with the good looks and enhanced healing that had now become extremely apparent to him, Sebastian could all but smile to himself. He really was wonderful.

     It had taken him a while to find a pair of jeans among the array of clothes that Katherine had set out for him, but apparently Edmund did own at least one. They weren't the most comfortable but they would do him for now, and Sebastian allowed himself to fall back over the bed once he was at least half-dressed. With nobody there to chivvy him along, he could take as much time as he liked to think about his plan of action for the next couple of days. Hopefully nobody had realised just what had happened to him at the gala - of the few people that knew, he was almost certain that neither Katherine or Jeremiah would have said anything, and that it wasn't something that Lance would want to flaunt either. But what did that mean for him? He could walk freely around Ashbourne without humiliation hanging over him like a dying willow, and that at least he could go about his business without being questioned or taunted. Not that anyone cared enough, of course, but his self-importance wasn't going to let him see that. As far as he was aware, normality seemed like the perfect treatment and the new-found feeling of invincibility that he now held was an added bonus to his ego.

[fcknicktho]

I never lit a match with intent to start a fire but recently the flames are getting out of control.

Enraged, Nick looked down at his phone, the bottle of vodka in his other hand. With bad hand eye coordination he threw the bottle across the room. His mind was scattering with thoughts all about the bridge, the doctor's office, hateful things thrown at him and at others. His hands tangled into his hair as his knees were brought up to his chest and for the first time in a while he tears stream down his face as he tried to suppress the multiple thoughts that just continued to make his vision blurry and his hands shake.

"She loved you." "He was your best friend." "Worthless." "How could you?" "You don't belong here." "Take the car, stop at the bridge and jump off." "Asshole."  "Quiet!" He yelled to himself as he opened his eyes looking to the wall of posters where the vodka had hit and his phone lied. He tried his breathing techniques. 7 seconds of breathing in, 4 seconds of holding on and then 8 seconds of breathing out. He repeated them multiple times but they didn't seem to work. He could still feel his blood pumping faster than ever before. Even faster than the night he had a biology quiz and couldn't get his mind to memorize anything. It was scaring him, he was afraid of anything he could do. He closed his eyes and focused on the black that surrounded him for a minute. For an instance he felt okay until he heard the vibration of his phone. He hesitated, scared for whatever message was in it now. He hoped it would be someone telling him exactly what he wanted to hear though he didn't even know what he wanted to hear. He was confused and lost, he didn't know what he was supposed to do. He got up slowly as he approached where his phone was, it felt painful to pick it up and see the familiar red heart emoji knowing it was Lily. He unlocked it and read: 

"have fun with ella" 

He'd hurt her. With the few string of words he read he knew in that very moment he'd hurt her and she knew everything. He didn't know how and that's not what mattered. Allenwood had a knack for getting word around fast. He dropped his phone as he looked up to the Pierce the Veil poster he had in his room, the perfect signatures of one of the band he admired the most, for helping him get through part of therapy. His had lifted up through some of the tears and ran his hand across them until he reached to the familiar words he always repeated to himself; "Darling you'll be okay." Something about them had always made him feel alright, like he would be okay but repeating them now could not get him out of his mind set. 

"You said I'd be okay." He muttered to himself, realizing at that moment in time and even when he'd returned to school and every other part of his life until now, he wasn't okay. He was getting by, he was just doing the minimal work, hiding everything behind a smile again and letting it pile up until he couldn't do it anymore. He looked down as his hands ran through his hair once again. Looking back to every single moment since he'd returned to Allenwood. It was all wrong, how could he have not seen that before. He knew what he had to do. 

Walking over to his desk, he looked into a drawer he kept locked for the plain fact that that's where he kept his many journals from therapy and business cards to specialists. His hands shook as he'd opened the drawer that seemed forgotten. That day he closed it he thought would be the new start for him, the one he was looking for. Here he was opening it and admitting to his failure. To everyone he loved. He could never be anything that he wanted to be and the things he needed to be? He couldn't even get close to that. 

He grabbed the card he needed and his phone, avoiding the message at all costs but still feeling the aching in his bones from knowing that he'd hurt the one person he was certain he loved and dropped it for lust. Knowing that he hurt a girl who was happy and care free until he messed it up. Knowing his friendship of sixteen years was over. Was this growing up or just destroying himself? He dialled the phone number, waiting for a few moments until he finally got a hold of the doctor who knew everything about his mind.  "Hi , I know I was supposed to be better.. but I'm not and I-I need to go back.... As soon as possible... I can do an appointment but I just, I can't come back here... That works I guess.... No I don't want to go to the emergency room, I'm half drunk and half hungover but I'm not vomiting... I'm sure it's not anxiety, my anxiety goes away after breathing exercises and it's not. I can't be here anymore and I need to go back can you pull some strings?... Tommorrow, okay. Thank you." 

As he finished the conversation his mind felt at ease knowing he was leaving everything behind again. He didn't care about it now, he needed to leave and no one could stop him anymore. 

[lucky-aleksandra]

When I Came Down To The Wire || Aleksandra and The Black Widows

Sunlight stabbed Aleks' eyelids the next morning, as she had forgotten to close her curtains the night before when she stumbled home with the other girls. After clambering back up the fire escape when the girls called for her, she hardly had another chance to speak to Lilly. Though, it was too risky at that point with that many eyes. The Widows pried Libra away from the boy she had been flirting with, who was rapidly becoming grabbier as the night lulled into morning. The girls all returned to their loft, where Aleks, Shirley, and Peggy lived full-time.

Aleks was curled into the corner of her bed, a thin blanket tangled around her as Becky slept beside her. The sun rang like an alarm across the loft and Aleks groaned, wiping at her eyes. She sat up and noticed Shirley, their leader, up trying to make coffee. Shirley never drank and Aleks knew that she herself wasn't hung over from a few beers. The other girls had been too far gone to return to their parents' homes and would likely be in a different state upon waking up.

Shirley looked over her shoulder and noticed Aleks was awake too, and nodded her over. Their were only three members in the intimate circle of the Widows that had been there longer than Aleks had, and Shirley was the oldest and inherited the role as top dog. She was a thicker girl in curves, big boned and tough. If it weren't for her affinity with winged eyeliner, many would have assumed her to be a very boyish man.

Carefully, Aleks crawled over Becky and tip-toed over to the open kitchen and smiled a greeting to Shirley. They exchanged the normal good-mornings and how-did-you-sleeps.

"I had the funniest dream," Shirley said, pouring the coffee into seven mugs. The cups weren't that full, but the girls always added plenty of milk and sugar to it. "I dreamt last night, at the party, you disappeared for a while,"

Aleks paused as she pulled the carton of milk out of the fridge. Her eyes locked on the monochromatic face of the lost child printed on the side. She and Shirley both knew that was no dream, and that was entirely suspicious of Aleks. The Unholy Trinity in the gang knew Aleks best, and knew that she wasn't the type to punk out or float off with some skeeze. There'd better be a good reason for her absence.

"That wasn't a dream, Shirley," Aleks mumbled, closing the fridge door with her foot and offering her the milk. Shirley cocked an eyebrow and folded her arms. Aleks sighed and began to pour the milk herself, feeling Shirley's smirk cut through the air. Honesty was the best policy, but how far did the truth need to go in this instance? "I was talking to a girl. I think she needs a little, ya know, guidance or somethin'. I was talkin' to her and I think she oughta join us, ya know?"

Shirley outright laughed, a barking sound that made Becky turn over in her sleep and Marcia groaned. Naturally, Aleks flinched at the sound and sucked in a breath. This was going to require persuasion, reassurance. Lilly had made it clear that she would stay with the Starlets, but if Aleks could just take this chance to convince her to come back...

"You looney, Lucky? We oughta change ya name," Shirley breathed out another laugh, shaking her head and drinking her coffee black. "Ya know we don't just let any ol'--"

"Yeah, yeah, but I know her," Aleks insisted, leaning against the counter. Shirley raised her eyebrow, a pass for Aleks to explain. "She used t' be my neighbor. We were raised together an' stuff. Things ain't workin' out on her side o' town, she could live here--"

Shirley waved her hand to shut Aleks up. Marcia and Peggy were stirring, blinking and stretching their arms. Groans of a hangover echoed through the space and Shirley crossed to Aleks, keeping her voice low.

"I wanna meet this girl. Sure, show her our stuff, whatever," Shirley shrugged but her gaze was intent. "She's gotta know what she's gettin' into. Jus' be careful, alright?"

[dr-cristinayang-md]

Underlying Feelings || Self Para.

Love. Love was something Cristina didn't really do. She could if she found the right person. She knew that the love she had for Burke was something to do with the OR and cardio, but it wasn't love. Then Owen came along. He had helped her with her icicle issue and kissed her within hours of meeting. That had been love. They had been through so much together. His PTSD and hers. They were happily married until she found out she was pregnant. They both wanted different things in life. After the crash and her moving to Minnesota, Cristina knew that things would probably never be the same between her and Owen. Especially with the baby drama hanging over their heads. She eventually brought it all to an end. A plane crash, one sex friend and a storm later, she couldn't do it anymore. She loved him and she hated it that he wanted a child and she couldn't give him that. After that moment, leaving him in the on call room; Cristina vowed she would not love another man. That she would not enter another relationship. Then she started to have sex with Jackson. It started off as a drunken mistake and that mistake continued. That was the mistake she made and she paid for it. After making the mistake a recurring thing, Cristina found herself falling for the man. He had been with her, at her bedside the whole time she was under. He told her he loved her, and she knew she had underlying feelings for him. She just couldn't admit it to him because Cristina had promised herself that she would never love somebody again.

[dr-cristinayang-md]

Persistent Dreams and a Transfer || Self Para

Cristina was annoyed. She had no idea how long she had been under, but it was really starting to get on her nerves. The dreams seemed like they were never ending. One after the other like waves. Whoever said nightmares were not a rare occurrence needed to be beaten. Hard. The dreams had escalated, they seemed to get worse each time they replayed over in her head. She wanted to wake up. She didn't care if she would feel the pain while awake, it would be far better than reliving the moment. She had been listening to the conversations of the doctors, Cristina couldn't hear everything, but she heard the words 'requested' and 'transferred'. She hoped that they were transferring her back to GSMH. That was what she wanted, to be surrounded by familiar people, and sounds of their voices. It could even offer comfort to her and possibly stop the dreams, although Cristina highly doubted it. She could feel the blackness take over again, Cristina knew that a nurse had just added more drugs to her drip. As a doctor, Cristina knew it was the best, but as the person under she didn't want it to happen. It was adding fuel to the fire. Her brain would start working on those dreams again, and she didn't want that. The darkness slowly took over, and before she knew it, she was out again. The face of the shooter haunting her in her sedated state.

[dr-cristinayang-md]

Not a Dreamless Sleep || Self Para

Many people wondered whether or not being in a coma was dreamless or not. But it certainly wasn't. The events of the day kept playing through Cristina's mind. She was being shot over and over again and there was no way out of it. She just wanted to wake up. Each time it the dream would be different. It would be her getting shot and dying in her person's arms or help arriving and she would die by the time they got to the hospital. She could see the man's face over and over. The terrifying blank look in his eyes as he pulled the trigger. Cristina willed her body to wake up. She didn't want to watch those dreams anymore. She wanted to be awake and okay. Her pain wasn't too bad. There was a dull ache in her chest, but the morphine and the other numerous amount of drugs being pumped into her body helped take away the worst of it. Cristina could here the faint noises of people coming in and out of her room, checking the machines by her bedside as her heart rate would speed up or become dangerously low. It had been a while since anyone had come in, a large hand gently wrapped around her own and she instantly knew who it was. His voice was calming and helped to soothe her. His lips brushed her cheek and Cristina could just make out Jackson telling her that he lied to the doctors and he was conveniently her husband. At that moment she wanted to wake up just to slap him upside the head for even suggesting it. Cristina couldn't hear everything Jackson was saying. The meds made her feel drowsy and she was barely conscious enough to be able to hear what he was saying. He blamed himself and she knew that was bad. Cristina continued to listen to the faint voice. She couldn't quite hear what he was trying to say, but she knew he had been interrupted. Cristina attempted to move, to try and get out of being kept under. If the last dreams were anything to go by. She was going to be in hell for the next few days.