Septiplier One-Shots

Teardrops (Part 3)

Jack's POV:

I scrambled to get my cell phone out of my pocket, immediately dialing Mark's number (which I know by heart).

No response.

I then tried texting Sammy.

Me: Is Mark there yet?

Almost instantaneously, I saw the three dots that told me Sammy was typing.

Sammy: Not yet. What's up?

Me: Just make sure he calls me when he gets there. And don't let him start driving until we're done talking. Okay?

Sammy: Alright. See ya in about an hour, Uncle Sean! ^-^

Me: Be safe, Sammy

Putting my phone away, I explained my plan to the therapists. However, the female therapist, yet again, spoke up.

"Dear... I'd hate to be the bearer of bad news but... if you had 2 dreams that predicted the death of your fiance... sigh... even if you keep him from being in an accident, the universe will find another way. It's fate; destiny. You can't change it. I'm sorry, but... I recommend you say your goodbyes."

I cried. I cried until my eyes were sore. I cried until my migraine was so terrible I wanted to die. I cried every second until my phone rang.

"Hey, baby. Sammy said you wanted me to call you?"

"Y-yeah." I stuttered, trying to regain even the slightest bit of composure.

"Well... what did you need?" he asked, laughing a bit.

"I just... wanted to say that I love you. And I always will."

"Aww. I love you, too. I'll see you in a few minutes. Bye, my love."

"B-bye..."

That was it. The last conversation I'll ever have with the love of my life. It just seems so... wrong. So unfair. So torturous...

Then, as I feared, my phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Are you Sean McLoughlin?"

"Yes... Who are you?"

"My name's Bob. I'm a paramedic. I'm afraid there's been an accident."

"Oh, God... Are Mark and Sammy alright?" I asked, concerned, although I already knew the answer.

"Well... the little girl sustained an injury to her eye. It's pretty severe, but she'll live."

"What about Mark?" I asked, resisting the urge to cry.

"He's pretty banged up. There are several cuts and bruises, and his arm may be broken, but he'll live as well."

"Oh my God.. Thank you! What hospital can I meet you at?"

"Elmwood Forest, on the corner of Overbee and Pierce."

"Alright. Thank you." I said before hanging up.

"They're both alive! But.. in the car accident dream, Mark died on impact..."

"I think I can explain." A male therapist with a Swedish accent said.

"You see, your prediction was a bit... confused at first. It hadn't yet come into focus. Only the second part of the real prediction was clear at the time, and that was Mark's death. I'm assuming the last person you lost killed themselves?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"Well, because only the death part of the prediction was clear, the idea of Mark's death and the thought of your most recent loss merged into one (false) prediction."

"Then what about the accurate prediction?"

This time, a tall man with a somewhat strange voice spoke.

"The prediction wasn't wrong, we just weren't focusing on the right event. The car crash was what you were predicting, not the death."

"So.. he's going to be fine?"

"I'm no doctor, but I'd say so."

"Thank you." I said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go see my fiance and my niece."

***

After arriving at the Elmwood Forest Hospital, I quickly got Mark's room number, and I was informed that Sammy was enduring a surgery to (hopefully) repair her eye. After entering room 302, Mark's room, I was greeted by a smiling Mark, his beautiful face covered with cuts and his bare chest engulfed by bruises: one from the seat belt and a few from the airbag.

"Jack... you're here." He said hoarsely.

I could tell he was in a lot of pain, but his smile was genuine.

"Of course." I responded, sitting on the foot of the hospital bed.

"How's Sammy?"

"She's fine." I assured him.

"Although, her eye was injured." I added, not wanting to give him false hope.

"Oh God.. What if she loses her sight? I'll never forgive myself..."

"Hey," I said, lifting his chin and looking into his eyes, "there's nothing you could've done. It's not your fault."

I gently moved my hand to his cheek, careful to avoid contact with any of his cuts. He shed a single tear, letting his head rest on my hand.

"Excuse me, Mr. Fischbach? It's time to clean your wounds." His nurse said as she walked in.

"Oh. I'm sorry, I'll move out of your way." I said, getting up.

"Actually," she said, getting a few things off of her cart, "you can address his wounds if you'd like. It's not very hard to do, and I think Mr. Fischbach would prefer it that way."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." She replied, chuckling.

She handed my the supplies she'd gathered and exited the room shortly after.

Just as I'd begun to clean the cuts on Mark's face, I noticed that he was crying.

"Mark... if it hurts that bad why not tell me?"

"Oh, it's not that..." he said, sniffling. "It's just that... I almost ruined everything. Our wedding, our lives, our future..."

"But you didn't. And I wouldn't have been upset with you for dying."

Before I could say anything else, he sat up and tightly hugged me.

As we held each other, we cried tears of joy. And as the tears fell, it was as if time was frozen; as if the moment would last forever. In all honesty, though, that's exactly what both of us wanted.