Lost (14 page)

But she was exhausted. It seemed like every muscle in her body was crying out for sleep. As if they'd gotten a taste of comfort and wanted more. Gaia felt her grip on her father's hand relax, but as long as she didn't lose contact, she didn't mind. Her eyes slowly started to close. Seconds later she was walking along the edge of the woods near her old house in the Berkshires with Ed, hand in hand, smiling. Ed was twirling her around in his arms, and she was laughing. But when he put her down again, the sky turned dark. The trees behind her morphed into a hundred soldiers, clothed in black. They stood in a circle like sentries, screams sounding from behind their backs. Familiar screams. Screams of pain.

Suddenly Sam appeared between two of the guards, making a break for it. Gaia caught one
glimpse of his anguished face before he was thrown back into the circle. Then Jake appeared, tortured and weak, only to be thrown back as well. Gaia tried to rush the guards, but her feet wouldn't move. When she looked down at her ankles, Ed was lying on the ground, his hands clamped around her ankles, holding her fast.

“Ed! What are you doing!? Let go of me!” Gaia shouted, trying to kick him away from her and get free. All Ed did was tighten his grip and glare up at her, smiling maniacally. Gaia's heart tightened. Why was he doing this to her? Why wouldn't he let her help her friends?

Gaia looked desperately at the sentries. “Sam! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” she shouted. “Jake!” But their screams were too loud. There was no way they could hear her over their own wails of pain.

Then her father's face appeared as he tried to break free as well. He looked at Gaia pleadingly, reaching his hands out to her from between the bodies of two sentries, grasping at thin air.

“Dad!” Gaia screamed. “Dad. Don't go! I'll help you! I'll help you!”

Gaia stretched forward until her fingers hurt, until she felt like she was going to stretch herself out of her skin, but she couldn't get to him.

“Help me, Gaia! You're the only one who can help . . .
meeeeee
!”

Just as her fingertips
grazed
his, her father was ripped away from her, his screaming louder than that of all the others, slicing through her heart.

“Ms. Moore?”

Gaia started awake, gasping for breath. It took her a moment to get her bearings. Her father's hand had slipped from hers while she slept, and she grabbed it up, wrapping her fingers around his tightly. His screams still echoed in her head from her dream, and she had to show herself that he was still here with her. Not entirely
here,
but at least physically. She hadn't lost him. Not yet.

“Ms. Moore?” someone said again.

Gaia blinked groggily and finally focused on a man who was standing in front of her, holding yet another metal clipboard. Another chart. Another doctor.

“I'm Dr. Sullivan,” the man said, holding out a large, freckled hand. “I'm the specialist assigned to your father.”

Gaia, not wanting to let go of her dad's hand again, reached up with her left. Dr. Sullivan paused, smiled, and switched his chart from one hand to the other so they could share a proper shake. He had a firm grip. A kind smile. Gaia decided to keep an eye on him. Thanks to Sam, she now knew that Loki's men were, in fact, still out there. Anyone in this hospital could be on her uncle's payroll.

“What's going on with my father?” Gaia asked,
looking directly into Dr. Sullivan's light green eyes. His thick red hair was peppered with gray, and he had plenty of laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. His freckled skin had a pink tint to it, like he'd recently spent too much time in the sun. These were not traits shared by most of Loki's men. They were usually too clean, too perfect, too sheltered. They were automatons who never saw the daylight and never learned to laugh like a real person. Gaia started to relax.

“I've got to be honest with you, Ms. Moore—”

“Call me Gaia,” she said.

“Okay, Gaia,” Dr. Sullivan said. Another smile. “Your father's condition is an anomaly.”

Why am I not surprised?
Gaia thought. “Highly irregular,” she muttered.

“I'm sorry?” Dr. Sullivan prompted.

“That's what the other doctor said,” Gaia replied. “His condition was highly irregular.”

“The other doctor was right,” Dr. Sullivan agreed. “But that doesn't mean there's no answer to why this is happening. There's always an answer in science. That's why I like it.”

Gaia smiled in an attempt to be polite. She didn't have the heart to tell him that he was wrong. That there was an anomaly in the genes of the girl sitting right in front of him that defied explanation. Sometimes science disappointed.

“So what's next?” Gaia asked.

“I'd like to run a few more tests,” Dr. Sullivan said. He walked around the bed and picked up her father's wrist, holding it between his thumb and forefinger and consulting his watch. “There may have been a hormone released into your father's system as he choked—something that could put him out like this. It's rare, but it happens. If that's the case, we can give him some injections that will restore the proper levels.”

“And then he'll wake up?” Gaia asked, raising her eyebrows.

“But don't get your hopes up yet,” Dr. Sullivan said, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. “I'll run some tests and get back to you by the end of the week. I assume we have your home number?”

“Yeah,” Gaia said. “It's in there somewhere.”

“Great. Well, it was nice to meet you, Gaia,” Dr. Sullivan said, holding out his left hand this time. Gaia grasped it gratefully and forced a smile. “I'll be in touch,” he said. And with that, he swept out of the room.

Gaia sat back in her chair again and sighed. Dr. Sullivan seemed like a good guy. He seemed like someone she could trust.

The
Jeopardy
theme song was playing, and Gaia stood up and flicked the TV off. She'd missed final
Jeopardy,
so she'd never know if she won. She decided
to just assume she had since she'd been kicking so much butt before she drifted off.

Drifted off. A vague memory of her dream tried to present itself to her mind's eye, but it was too foggy and disparate. All Gaia could remember was that Jake was in it. Jake. What was that about? She'd just met the guy, and already he was crashing her dreams.

“Well, Dad, I should go,” Gaia said, standing. “I gotta go make sure my houseguest hasn't been found.”

She smiled and leaned over to give her father a quick kiss on the forehead. When she pulled back, she looked down at his closed eyelids, imagining that she could see into his eyes. What she wouldn't give to be able to bring her father home to meet Sam. To be able to say, “Dad, this is my friend who I thought was dead. Sam, this is my father, who was missing.” To have them both at the same time.

Apparently that kind of luck was too much to ask.

Gaia took a deep breath, gave her father's hand one last squeeze, and grabbed her balled-up clothes and her messenger bag. She turned and walked out of the ICU, her thoughts turning entirely to Sam. She had to get him something to eat for dinner.

Jeez,
that sounded so maternal, she could barely stomach it. But still, somehow, a smile played across her lips. He was alive. She had to keep reminding herself. Sam was alive. And he was waiting for her at
home. Bringing dinner home to Sam. Who ever would have thought it possible?

Unhealthy Mix

ED STARED DOWN AT HIS FEET,
lifting one set of toes, then the other, then the other, then the other, trying to distract himself. If nothing else, he always had his feet. His movable feet. They were good feet. They were.

The hospital elevator door made its loud, obnoxious
bing!
and slid open, rattling all the way. Ed took one step, still concentrating on his feet, and saw himself almost step on another pair. Another pair in combat boots.

Ed looked up into Gaia's surprised eyes.

“Hey!” he said, his heart pounding like he was on speed. His stomach twisted nervously, and his mouth went dry . . . until he saw what she was wearing. “Have you been playing doctor without me?” he joked.

“Hey!” Gaia blurted energetically. She planted a fast, firm kiss on him with such enthusiasm, he almost thought it wasn't her. “When did you get here?”

“Just . . . now,” Ed replied, wondering exactly how
much coffee Gaia had imbibed that afternoon. She seemed nervous, jittery. Her eyes were all over the place. Maybe she just felt guilty about ditching him and wasn't sure how to act.

“Everything okay?” Ed asked as she stepped into the elevator and he stepped back so the doors could close.

“Yeah, I guess,” Gaia said, reaching out and lacing her fingers through his. She looked at him and twitched a quick smile, then averted her gaze, focusing intently on the elevator buttons as they raced toward the ground floor.

Okay, what, exactly, was going on here? Gaia seemed to be in a semimanic state, and she'd initiated not one, but two forms of physical contact in the space of five seconds. And now she was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet as if all she wanted to do was escape. To get away from him.

You're just imagining things, Fargo,
he told himself.
You're just paranoid because she ditched you this afternoon.

Ed felt a lump forming in his stomach, made up of a nice unhealthy mix of guilt, anger, uncertainty, sorrow, and sympathy. How could he feel all those things at one time?

He waited for her to mention it. Waited for her to explain or apologize or explain or ask about Heather or . . .
explain.
By the time they reached the lobby, he
was almost bouncing up and down himself. The worst part about it was that she didn't even seem to notice the almost palpable tension in the air. Here he was, stressing out, and she was just staring straight ahead at nothing.

“So, how's your father?” he asked, just as the door opened.

“They're gonna do more tests,” Gaia replied. She had already released his hand and started across the lobby. “They still don't know what's wrong.”

“What kinds of tests?” Ed asked, feeling like he was a little kid trying to keep up with his mom in a crowd.

“Blood tests. Something about a hormone.” Gaia finally paused in the center of the carpeted lobby and looked over her shoulder at the exit. Away from Ed. She
did
want to get out of there. She wanted this conversation to come to a quick close so she could flee. But where? Why? What had happened between their sweet morning together and now to make her want to avoid him?

Was it that wrestling match with Jake? Had something shifted in her at that point that suddenly made her not want to be in his presence? Maybe she'd realized that she did want someone Affleck-esque. The anti-Ed. Maybe that was why she seemed to want to get out of here so badly. So much for all Heather's reassurances.

Ed couldn't take it anymore. He wasn't going to let
her make a quick getaway. Not after all the waiting he'd done today. Waiting for her to talk. Waiting for her to show. Waiting for her to mention Heather. Now it was her turn to wait. He walked over to one of the plush couches and sat down.

Gaia just stood in place for a moment, then walked over and stood right in front of him.

“Ed . . . I'm sorry, but I kind of have to go,” she said apologetically.

All right. If she was going to make him do it, then he would do it. She was getting the blunt treatment.

“Where were you this afternoon?” Ed asked, resting one elbow on the arm of the couch and lacing his fingers together. He went for total innocent curiosity.
All the better to guilt you with, my dear.
Childish, he knew, but this was what happened to him when he was feeling insecure.

Gaia just looked at him blankly for a moment, and Ed tucked his chin and looked at his feet, waiting for her to remember. He was actually hurt by her complete cluelessness. So she hadn't blown him off because she had to come to the hospital right away because the doctors had called her in. She had simply blown him off.

Finally Gaia brought up her free hand and slapped her forehead, closing her eyes. “Oh God. Heather! I completely forgot,” Gaia said. She sucked in air through her teeth. “I'm so sorry! Was she mad?”

“Not really,” Ed replied.
But I was.
The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't make them come out. For all the wishing he'd done that she would share her feelings, he couldn't share his own. He was too scared. Petrified. He didn't want to be the person he was inside. The lovesick, pathetic, insecure whiner.

“Are
you
mad?” Gaia asked, her brow furrowing.

Say it, say it, say it!

“Not really,” he repeated. “But you can make it up to me by hanging out with me now.” He stood up, reached out, and took her free hand in his. His pulse raced when he touched her skin. She really did look pretty in pink. “Want to go catch a movie or something? I'll get you a huge popcorn, and we'll buy them out of Sno-Caps.”

Please just say yes.

When Gaia's face scrunched up, his heart took a nosedive. She couldn't actually be preparing to turn him down. . . .

“I'm sorry, I can't,” Gaia said, glancing at the door again. He wasn't imagining this. She really was having trouble keeping eye contact with him.

“Why? It'll take your mind off things,” Ed said, grasping at straws. Grasping at her. “There might even be something with a talking dog!” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

Gaia laughed, but it was a short laugh. “Can I take a rain check?” she asked. “I really have to get home.”
Her hand slipped from his, and she took a step back. Ed felt like he was going to hurl right there in the middle of the swank hospital lobby, with all the little old lady volunteers looking on.