Mac Vs PC: Infected

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"I hope we can continue your legacy by continuing to work in your likeness by being overwhelmingly passionate about what we do and caring about the people around us."

- Excerpt from a memoriam letter to Steve Jobs (Macintosh/Apple)

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7 months ago

Pam's wrinkled eyes closed and her smile faded as her soul left like a newly flighted bird.

"Time of death: 7:54 pm."

The harsh flat line screeched in contrast. Piper hiccupped a laugh. It was utterly ludicrous that she was actually gone. The white hospital blankets looked harsh against Pam's paling skin. The tubes coming in and out of her body seemed invasive as her eyelashes rested on her high cheekbones casting a shadow on her soft skin. Slowly, Piper and the nurse began to unhook Pam from the tubes that held her body captive. Piper moved the nasal cannula from underneath her nostrils, brushing her knuckles over her skin. Piper reveled in the fact that a dead body could still be so warm.

"Can you turn that off?" Piper motioned to the flat line that whine out Pam's death without a hint of tact. Piper would never forget that sound. It was the ringtone to her guilt.

"Of course." Silence greeted the stark white walls echoing the absence of the once every present lub-dub of Pam's heartbeat. The moment she rolled into the hospital, the doctor connected her to her heart monitor. The sound was a comforting reminder that Pam was still with them. Now silence pulsed in its place. She really was gone.

"Her son will be here in a moment." The nurse sent Piper a look that Piper understood very well. She nodded continuing to rub her knuckles along her skin as it cooled.

Piper stood next to her bed, her eyes dry and her heart broken. She cried out all of her tears days ago; all she had left was peace.

"Mom?" Mac's entrance came with two doctors and a nurse trying to explain to him what happened. Tried to explain how her heart couldn't handle the strain of the multi-organ failure and she died minutes before he got there. Tried to reiterate that patients show signs of good health before submitting to their body's failure. She knew Mac stopped listening the moment he saw his mother. "Mom."

He repeated her name over and over again as if she would respond to it, chastising him for interrupting his sleep. He was still at the door, his body still and his face stoic. He called her again and his face crumpled into confusion before he finally took a step forward. When she didn't respond, tears formed in the corner of his eyes. He ran to her bed, grabbing her hand before crumbling into her still body.

Piper couldn't move as she watched him shed tears over his mother's cooling body. This was a private moment for them, but she couldn't help from speaking. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Mac looked up at her, his eyes red and his heart broken. He looked like a lost boy, something Piper had never seen before. Throughout her hospitalization, he was confused and overwhelmed but never lost. His mother was the strongest person he knew, death couldn't touch her in his mind. For once, Piper hated that he was wrong.

"I'm sorry." She wished she could say something, could say anything other than an apology to censure his pain. His eyes fell back to his mother as he leaned down to kiss her pale cheek. He moved to cradle his small mother in his arms. Piper's heart broke. She wished as much as him that their love could bring her back.

"I'm so sorry." Piper reached over to rub his arm, needing to be connected to her family. She watched the nurse motion to her. She shook her head. He needed more time.