Healing Myself

Ashes

The trip to the Academy hospital didn't take that long and I was entering the building around 5 minutes ahead of the time slot that had been given to me in the message I had received.

As I moved towards the reception desk to register my arrival, the receptionist waved me off with a smile. "You go straight to Dr. Roberts' office." She tells me. I knew her from before so I took her advice and left after giving her a small smile.

I inhale deeply as I walk in the halls of the hospital to reach Dr. Phil's office. The smell of lemon cleaners, the slight scent of get-well-soon flowers and the aroma of food from the hospital cafeteria were a heady assault to my already abnormally heightened senses. This was one of the reasons I disliked hospitals.

Another reason was the inevitable grief in the air. Other than routine check-ups and happy stuff like pregnancies, you didn't come to a hospital unless you were ill or hurt.

I didn't like knowing that a hospital room, four white walls and cold, sterilized furniture, would be the last things a lot of someones would probably see before they closed their eyes to the world forever.

My Dylan hadn't seen an all-white, distant room before he left though. The last thing he'd seen before he forgot how to breathe forever had been me.

Me, with my tear streaked face, my hair a wild, curly mess, and the front of my dress slightly torn and smudged with dirt. Still, he'd said, "I love you."

I could remember the feel of his blood as with one of my hands I held the back of his head. His chest rising and falling too slow beneath my other hand as he took shallow breaths. The grip of his hands slowly loosen as he rested them atop the one I had on his chest.

"Tell Mom and Dad and Leo that I love them. I love all of them. And I love you, Sunshine."

His smile was a grimace of pain and love and acceptance. Every emotion on his face felt too less and too much at the same time. I could feel it, feel him slipping away. He must've felt it too because he said,

"You know what to do with me."

My mind instantly went back to that stupid conversation we'd had some time ago. What would we want to happen to ourselves after we die.

"I think I'd like to be cremated. And then, I'd like for my ashes to be spread out. In the air, in the ground, in the water, and then, to whoever wants them."

I remember shrugging like it was no big deal. Although, I had thought about my answer carefully, because I wanted to be connected to every element even when I wasn't there. I wanted to stay behind in them so that I would still be, in some way, connected to wherever my loved ones would and could be.

Dylan's train of thought had been similar to mine as he gave his answer.

"I'd like to be cremated too." He said as looked me in the eyes. "I know it's going to produce a lot of fumes but my ashes can be carried by my loved ones wherever they go. So they'll always have a piece of me."

How much sense it makes now. And I hate that it does. "I love you," I tell him back, "I love you, Dylan."

"I love you."

And then I faintly hear a woman's voice, not because she's far away, but because I'm too lost in my own despair.

I can see a masculine hand coming in my line of sight and it reaches for Dylan's wrist. My hand still clutches at his fingers as the other hand sits at his wrist for a moment before pulling away.

I see the owner of the hand shake his head to a woman standing nearby in blue scrubs.

And then there were the police officers and the undercover Academy officers and the questions.

And he was gone, and so was I.

My hands are clinging tightly to the sleeves of my sweater as I slowly push open the door of Dr. Phil's office with my fist.

I feel someone in here as I close it back and with my back to the door, I place my hands on my face and take a few deep breaths. And then the unexpected happens.

"And who are you, lovely lady?"

I don't know who I thought the person in the office must've been. I knew it wasn't Dr. Phil. His presence is a little different. More calming and wise. But this person, this doctor.....

He looked too young to be a doctor at all. But this hospital was Academy and frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if a young Sheldon replica popped out of somewhere in here.

He had a heart shaped face. His tone was light and teasing and his green eyes bright. Sandy blonde hair curled in different directions on his head, as if he hadn't taken care of them for quite a while. He was wearing a white doctor's coat over a salmon coloured button down shirt and light blue chinos. On the left side of his coat, was his name tag that said, "Dr. Green".

I remembered when I came for the check-up last year, Dr. Phil had told me how I had to stop coming to the hospital as I was prettier each time I came. He had a young apprentice who would apparently be very distracted if he caught sight of me. His name was, as fate would have it, Sean Green.

"Dr. Sean"

The name left my lips in a breathy way. It was a statement, really. I was sure he was the one Dr. Phil had been talking about.

He looked at his name tag for a second, like he thought that's where I got his name. When he realised all it stated was his designation and surname, he looked up at me.

"You know me." He said, surprised. Well, of course I did. Hadn't I just said his name? He didn't sound accusing though. That was good. I so did not want a repeat of North and his narrowed eyes.

"I've heard of you from Dr. Phil. He told me you used to train under him, or do you still?" I asked.

I realised I didn't actually know him. All I had heard in reality from the old man was that Dr. Sean

1. Was a ball of sunshine

2. Used to flirt with every nurse in the hospital, even though he was already so busy with his medical training that he didn't actually date

3. "Would be very distracted if he caught sight of your pretty face in the confines of this hospital. Or anywhere at all, dear."

I could feel the brightness of his presence so the first statement rang true. The second statement, I hadn't seen him do it but he did feel like that easy-going kind of guy. The third one.....why don't we just skip that one, eh?

"I used to." he says as he rounds the desk he was standing behind and comes to stand in front of it. "Now I don't. But you didn't answer my question, sweetheart." He adds with a grin.

Alright, flirt instincts, check.

His set of pretty white teeth make me almost forget the question he had asked me in the very beginning, but I quickly remember and give him the answer.

"I'm Sang. I have a check-up with Dr. Phil," I look at the standard white clock on the left side wall, "right about now."

"Sang." He draws my name out in a sweet way. I expect him to say something else, something like, "Dr. Roberts is helping out in surgery" or "Dr. Roberts should be here any minute" but he doesn't. Instead, he says my name again. "Sang."

"How would you feel if I called you Pookie?"

His question is random and the nickname I assume he means for me to have is bizarre and all I can get out is a "what?" before the door to the office is opened from the other side.

Seriously though. Pookie?!

•••••

AN: Okay, it took a lot of time to write this baby. Putting together all this information in a flow that actually made sense was pretty hard. This chapter has bits and pieces from very different places of Sang's life so it was also hard to select the title, which also brings us to the

QOTD: If I were to change the title of this chapter, what should it be?