Trigger warning: various medical instruments, mentions of injuries, detailed heart failure.

Thomas's P.O.V.
Tori was released the next morning with bandages wrapped around her leg, having sustained only minor injuries. Of course, she still didn't leave the hospital, saying that she would stay until Lori could leave. Patton, however, with his dad-powers, convinced her to go home every day during the night for a few hours to shower and sleep.

Lori remained completely unconscious, confusing the hospital staff even more. After Tori's explanation of the magic burst, the doctors did some research. As it turns out, magic bursts are fatal 100% of the time, even for someone with two magic-wielding parents. So, the mysteries surrounding Lori only grew.

As for Roman, well, that's kind of a difficult subject. Actually, Roman himself wasn't so difficult. Three days after being brought in, the doctors started allowing visitors, saying that he had finally reached a stable condition. They told us he was going to live and should make a fairly smooth recovery, but it could be anywhere from a few days to a few weeks before he woke up, since a Side's health is so unpredictable. Speaking of which, one of the doctors told us a few days in that, because a Side's health was so unpredictable, they had not been able to understand why Roman was experiencing random moments of consciousness.

The actual difficult part of Roman's recovery was Virgil. From the moment the doctors said we could visit Roman, Virgil refused to leave his side. Patton, as usual, forced him to go home at times, but those times were short. Virgil basically lived at the hospital. He told me one day that he just wanted to be there for Roman when he woke up. While he did spend the vast majority of his time with Roman, he did spend his remaining free time with Milly. They sometimes were together in Roman's room, other times outside in a sitting area, and other times in the cafeteria. They were alone most of the times they were together (with the exception of Roman, since he was unconscious), and therefore whatever they talked about or did while they were together is unknown to anyone other than them.

Patton, as I've already said, was busy taking care of everyone and everything. Two days into the hospital ordeal he had large, dark bags under his eyes and his usual peppy persona had been replaced with an exhausted, worried one. While he was very good at making sure everyone else slept, ate, and bathed, he wasn't too good at doing the same for himself.

That's where Logan came in. At first, Patton seemed to be running everything on his own, but after the first two days Logan stepped in and, since he definitely isn't the right guy to take care of everyone, he solely took care of Patton. He reminded the moral Side to eat at three different times of the day and frequently took over for a few minutes or a few hours while Patton bathed or slept. The same day that Virgil told me why he stayed with Roman all the time, I saw Logan at the end of the hallway I was on, his arm around a wobbly Patton's waist, holding him up. I heard them talking back and forth to each other, but I was too far away to make out what they said.

Owen stayed out of the picture for a good bit of this, just doing what he could to help. Most of the times I saw him he was with Logan, helping him help Patton. Other times he was visiting Roman or Lori, talking to Tori, or doing something for someone else.

Anthony was quick to take over the roles Roman usually take on. I swear—almost everyone swears—he is a mini Roman through and through. Anthony would tell the story of what happened—starting at the Friday night they left or going all the way back to Valentines Day, depending on how much time you had—to anyone who would listen. He would tell the story in detail and, unlike Roman, who was known for frequently exaggerating parts of his stories, with distinct accuracy. In the moments that he wasn't storytelling, however, he was visiting Roman, and in those moments his usual upbeat vibe faded, replaced by a somber expression and silence. He seemed like a different person when he visited Roman, switching almost instantly once he crossed the threshold of Roman's room from an excited storyteller to a grieving visitor.

Camille, much like Owen, stayed out of the picture for most of the hospital ordeal. What separated her absence from Owen's, though, was the fact that she seemed to intentionally hide herself. I assumed that this was due to her overwhelming guilt coming back for her—there was a lingering, quiet guilt I felt, and I knew it had to be coming from her. I talked to Patton about it a few days in, but we never said anything else about it. Whether he went and talked to her, tried to comfort and reassure her, I don't know.

Milly was an interesting mixture of both involved and not involved. Sometimes she showed up at the hospital for a few hours then went home, sometimes she stayed the whole day, and once or twice she didn't come at all. I don't know where she was when she wasn't at the hospital, but when she was then she would be everywhere. A week in, she knew her way around every bit of the hospital she was allowed in. You'd think a hospital wouldn't be the most photogenic of places, and yet Milly sketched and took picture after picture. When she wasn't sketching, however, she switched her mood much like Anthony, quickly going from artistic to uneasy. She would always be in Roman or Lori's room for at least an hour, never just stopping by. Then, of course, there were the times she spent with Virgil.

As for me, I tried to live my life outside of my Mind as much as possible, which was equal parts easy and difficult. It was easy because as Roman healed, my creativity increased. What was difficult was the overwhelming worry I felt, not just from Virgil, but from every Side. Everyone was worried that Roman wouldn't make the recovery the doctors promised, or that Lori wouldn't wake up. While I spent most of my time outside my Mind, I did frequently go to the hospital, visiting the visitors rather than the patients.

After the first day at the hospital, it was two weeks before anything of significance happened. Late at night on Tuesday, April sixteenth, Virgil and Logan were sitting together in Roman's room.

Virgil's P.O.V.
I was sitting on the edge of Roman's bed holding his hand. It seems strange that so much pain can come from one twelve-word sentence, but that pain is there. When I say that I'm sitting on the edge of Roman's bed, I want to mean that I'm sitting on the edge of his cozy, king-sized, memory foam, sheet-draped mattress, but in actuality, I was sitting on the edge of an uncomfortable, firm, bland hospital bed. When I say that I'm holding Roman's hand, I want to mean that I'm holding his and he's holding mine, but in actuality, his hand is limp and lifeless in mine.

"Virgil?" Logan said, making me jump—I had forgotten that he was even there.

"Yeah?" I replied.

"Apologies for frightening you, but you have not said anything for quite some time, and I was going to ask if you were alright."

"Alright?" I scoffed. "Alright? What about any of this says 'alright?' Do you see the IV? The wires? The scars? Is this alright to you?!"

After my quick fit of rage and a brief moment of silence, I realized that I was standing up, towering over Logan, Roman's hand still held tightly in mine. Logan seemed a bit scared, at the very least a little shocked.

"Oh.. oh God," I stammered. "I'm— Logan, I'm sorry. I—"

"No, no," Logan interrupted. "No need to apologize, Virgil, no need. If it will be of assistance to you, then I will leave."

"No, you don't have to go," I said, sitting back down.

"It's alright, Virgil, besides, I am quite peckish. I will leave and eat a late dinner. Is there anything you desire?"

"No thanks, Logan."

"Very well then, I'll be leaving now. Remember Patton's rules—you daren't break them."

"Got it, Logan, now get outta here with your fancy talk." I grinned slightly, despite not feeling much joy at the moment, and Logan waved goodbye as he got his stuff and teleported away.

I turned back to Roman, who had not moved. I don't know why, but every time I looked at him, a part of me would hope that he had moved, even if it was just the twitch of a finger. One time, about a week and a half after he was brought in, he bent his left knee a little, only for his leg to fall limp again a few seconds later.

I thought back to that moment as I yawned and propped my head up with my arm. I wished we could be done with all the false hope and hopelessness and worry and pain. But no matter how much I wished, I was still sitting on the edge of Roman's uncomfortable hospital bed, holding his lifeless hand in mine.

I tried to refocus my thoughts on something else, something that was simple and didn't require much thinking. The beeping of Roman's heart monitor began to stand out to me, and I focused on that. Other sounds and sights began to stand out too, like Roman's quiet breathing, the way his chest rose and fell rhythmically, the way the lines on the heart monitor jumped in unison with the beeping. It was calming, seeing all these sights and sounds come together to form one big picture.

But a few minutes later, the calm suddenly went away and was replaced with an unexplained sense of urgency. Everything seemed normal, and I couldn't see why I was so worried. Anxiety, I reminded myself, doesn't need a reason to be anxiety. It does what it wants when it wants.

But suddenly I found the reason for worry: the heart monitor, which had been beating steadily for the past few minutes, was now slowing down and beeping randomly.

"Roman," I said, standing up and cupping his hand with both of mine. The beeping slowed down even more. "Roman, no, stay with me, Roman!" I turned towards the door for a second and screamed, "SOMEONE HELP!"

The beeping on the monitor slowed more and more, the beats steadying once more. Seconds were passing between the beeps, more and more seconds every time. Until finally one beep sounded and no more followed.

A.N.
Alright, I can't think of a joke so I'll just outright say that I'm sick, which means I'm spending the next few days with my friends Couch and Phone, and possibly with this new guy Pulmonologist. The one good thing about being sick is that I've got a lot of writing time on my hands, and with half a dozen books being planned and one being finished, some time is exactly what I need.

Anyway, adiós, guys, gals, and non-binary pals.