FIRE [FIRST DRAFT]

Chapter 18: Message in a Bottle

Celeste made her way to the infirmary, past the shameless stares of agents who knew their orders and yet were sceptical about listening to Stefan over Buckley. Surely, they had other things to do besides worry about her.

When Celeste arrived, a fear surged within her, forbidding her from opening that door. What if Gavin's injuries were worse than she remembered, worse than she envisioned? Maybe she did not have to find out. As she thought this, the door opened for her, ignoring her anxiety, and there stood Valerie, looking up from the floor as she coerced herself to wipe the unhappiness from her smile.

She greeted Celeste with a hug, "It's so good to see you."

"You, too," she replied, trying to act like this was not the first time she had ever hugged her. "How is everyone, how are you?"

"Dominick is fine. He just needs some rest, so I'm leaving him be. Same goes for everyone else, but I know you're really concerned about Gavin."

Celeste kind of hated that she could not deny it, and the smile bridging Valerie's cheeks was no help.

"He's awake. Go talk to him," she shrugged, ducking out of the medic room like a child would out of trouble. "Aimee didn't come with you?"

"No, she's in Janet's office."

"Aimee's alone?" Finn said, coming out of nowhere, in pursuit of his sister.

"She wanted to stay behind with Sylvain."

"We'll find her." Valerie bid her adieu.

Celeste watched them go, dipped in blood she doubted was theirs. They were fit, hardly injured - either that or they were expertly good at hiding their pains. Eventually, she entered the room, to swarms of nurses and wounded agents being carried to separate white linen beds that would not stay white for long. She tried not to focus on the agony she saw in their eyes, or the fast pace of everything in that room. She slowed it all down and searched for Gavin's face and gorgeous strawberry blonde hair, and then she found him. For reasons she would have liked to ignore - a core reason being that Dom was on his own bed next to him - she ran up to Gavin, like all the female leads do in romantic dramas, and then held his hand tightly. He said nothing, no cheesy expressions of affection (or whatever he had phoned her for earlier) he just smiled, and quite frankly, that was all she wanted.

She sighed, "So, you got beaten up by robots. Smart."

"Yeah, well, I'm a sucker for self-aimed torture."

"Mm, I noticed."

"Thank you, you're very observant," he said jokingly.

His teeth were streaked with red, like he had spat out whatever blood had accumulated in his mouth, but some refused to leave (she observed that, too). Passing him the bottle of water that stood by on the bedside table, she wanted to laugh at his remark, but she could barely manage a smile.

"The word is masochist, by the way," she tried to change the subject. "Someone who likes inflicting pain upon themselves."

"Dang it!"

"What?" her eyes widened as she worried she had said something wrong.

"You," he said calmly, taking another swig of his water. "Why do I always fall for the smart ones?"

Celeste tried not to blush. "Was that a confession?"

With a nonchalant smile, he answered, "It might have been."

"You're on drugs."

It sounded like an insult, but the sedatives in his bloodstream proved her statement true. Celeste took his empty bottle from him and watched him, smiling affectionately, as his body fell asleep.