The gunshot went off, guards seemingly appeared out of the blue, like they too were frozen in time, halted by death’s own armies. Told to sit and wait, to allow this tragedy to occur, if only to keep balance. And he hated them for it. He hated them for their timing, and himself for being unable to move, and the man for holding, then squeezing the trigger in the first place. There had never been much room in Lixin’s heart for that kind of anger, and while he knew Birdie would have thought less of him for it, that didn’t stop the feeling from happening all the same. It was the same thing that propelled him forward, whether it was desire to help the woman he loved, or the training he had faced on the way to becoming a doctor. Either way, before he could even register the sudden movement, his hands were putting pressure on her wound. Blood funneling between his fingers. His normally pristine white coat now stained with the reminder that none of them could outrun fate.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into Birdie’s hair, now propping her up against his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Every word cost him something. Like they were being wrenched horribly from his throat, somewhere between a sob and a scream. The kind of words one might expect from the man who just lost all purpose and focus in the world. Who just had the entire earth tilt and shake, who was attempting to navigate an unfamiliar place that he wasn’t sure he cared about anymore. Even the boy behind Birdie, he couldn’t even spare a glance towards him. All kindness in Lixin turned poisonous.

As a doctor, there were many important lessons he learned in medical school. The first was to always do no harm. To follow that code to the letter. Lixin was here to save and heal, and do his best at both when nothing else could actually be done. The second was knowing when someone was beyond saving. When hearts stopped beating. When too much blood was lost. When the brain lost functioning, and all of that beautiful miracle of a human body stopped feeding oxygen into the most important systems.

He knew where the bullet had ripped through Birdie’s body. Where the veins lay underneath, and how quickly the blood could flow out. He knew that seconds mattered, and in this instance, those seconds never stood a chance. Birdie never stood a chance. What he was holding was flesh, and bone, and the skin of a person that was already turning cold. The visions couldn’t have prepared him for that. It couldn’t have told him about the horrible violence of seeing someone’s life drain out of their eyes, lost in whatever world came after. Of feeling the warmth that Birdie gave to others bled dry across the cold hospital tiles.

Birdie had never been religious, but she had also never quite subscribed to the idea that a life ended completely with death. How could it? Life was so beautiful. So full of wonder. A soul didn't move through life, every day seeing the beauty in the small things simply to be cut off and rid from existence. Birdie, who bought herself yellow daisies from the markets. Who somehow burnt her toast more often than not. Who loved to take walks in summer rain showers, who couldn't walk past a bakery without getting a strawberry donut. Birdie who had lost someone close to her, and instead of turning to anger dedicated her life to helping others. A girl who had fallen in love with the quiet doctor and begun dreaming of a future, one where together they would decorate their living room with yellow daisies.

It felt impossible to her that a life so lived could suddenly become nothing but blackness. How could such warmth become nothing? Where was all that love to go? Maybe that was the comfort all along, as she stared down that gun. As her heart broke for Lixin, for her mum and dad who by now would be finding out they've lost another child. For her friends, for little Johnny who would pull through the other end of his illness but be left with the trauma of what happened in that room that day. As her heart broke, there was the comfort that something was coming next. Another chapter. She would see her brother again.

Birdie Baker may have died that day, a victim to a man whose entire world had shattered, but she would never truly be gone. Not as long as her family celebrated her birthdays in the years to come, or as long as her friends shared memories, or as long as the markets kept selling her favourite flowers. Not as long as she was loved by the man who she'd loved so dearly.

No, she wasn't gone. One day, somewhere, they would meet again.

In reality, he was simply a death seer. A fortune teller of the worst kind. Months ago, the vision had appeared during one of the worst moments of his life, and now he had the distinct honor of watching it play out in front of him. He knew the room to go to. He knew what he would find there. The gun. The man. Birdie, doing her best at being brave, protecting a child to the very end. Lixin was going to be sick, but the adrenaline pushed him forward, moving him that much more quickly in the direction of his only chance at stepping in front of the train that was fate. He’d gladly stand toe to toe with death now. Lixin would raise his fists in the air, or maybe he would simply do the most insane thought possible—take the bullet instead. There were no rules here. No laws of nature that he cared about pissing off.

And then he skidded to a halt. The door wide open, and a few nurses hiding in nearby areas gesturing at him to get down. To step away from the danger and save himself. Didn’t they know that there was no going back for him now? That for all of his time, he had considered himself like something of Birdie’s keeper. Someone that could keep her safe despite the danger that lay before them. In all of his hubris, he never once believed that he would fail in this final task. But as he stepped behind his destiny, Birdie standing in the room, her eyes full of emotions he still couldn’t discern, he began to wonder why he hadn’t just carried a gun on his person all this time.

Maybe then he could have fought back. Maybe then he wouldn’t just be a specter of the worst film he had ever seen in his life. Because it was playing on with or without him. The pieces were in motion. The clock was ticking. Time had finally run out, and all Lixin could do was stare into the eyes of the woman he loved, and watch as Death took what it came for.

He had been told as a child to respect the decisions of Death. To understand it as a kind of entity that they simply communed with. A part of their culture, and history. They were, in many ways, stewards of Death. The kind of people that could sense it more than anyone else, and as a result, were a part of it, too. Today, Lixin felt no such connection, just the empty, cavernous loss that was threatening to blow him open, even without a gun pointed at him.

But now she was face to face with it, and it felt like everything had come to a standstill. It felt like she’d stuffed cotton wool in her ear, the alarm and commotion from the rest of the hospital like muffled background noise. It was as if her body was two steps ahead of her brain, weirdly calm as she stood there, face to face with the gun of a man who could not be reasoned with.

The grief of losing a child was hard. She'd seen it first hand with her own parents, parents who currently were going about their day with no idea that within moments they would once again be a family of two, that a vicious cycle of grief was about to start again. Or maybe they'd be able to feel it, the loss.

Because Birdie knew there was no other course of action here. Even with little Johnny stuck to his bed and whimpering behind her, there was no talking the man with the gun out of it. Because just like her parents, and just like parents in that hospital every day, his world had been ripped from him. In his eyes, Birdie was to blame. He couldn't know the amount of time she'd spent with his son, checking his vitals, making him laugh. Nor could he know how his death had affected her.

She didn't realise she was crying until she felt the tear drop from her chin and land on her arm. This moment felt like everything was moving in slow motion, like the world had stopped and she simply could walk away and everything would stay the same around her. But really, it was only seconds. One, two, three, between the man raising his gun and the bullet hitting her. Seconds, that Lixin suddenly appeared behind the man, that she met his gaze. Seconds, not long enough to wonder how he was there but enough time for the smallest of smiles to automatically cross her face at the sight of him, and the pain to blossom from inside her at the thought of him after all this, even before bullet pierced her chest.

But the man was no professional. There were many people on the island who could end a life in seconds with their bare hands. This man was not one of those people. She remembered what he was lie before. Gentle and kind, always laughing when she told a terrible joke. Now he was a heartbroken father, acting out of a pain that had stewed into rage, with a gun he'd purchased in a shady deal a few days before in an attempt to heal, or maybe an attempt to end it all. Before then he'd never held a gun, let alone shot at someone with it. All over the hospital were people who he believed failed them, failed his son, now bleeding out from their wounds. Shots that, if he had a more accurate aim, would be fatal. Yet most would survive, as Birdie wavered from the impact, only a beat passing before she dropped to the ground. The guards who took the man down were seconds too late.

Everyone else was running, too. There was panic. Pandemonium. Nurses trying to tend to terrified patients, others doing their best to employ the techniques they'd been taught in case this happened. The police had been called. Security guards at the hospital were doing their best to follow the noises, too. They weren't defenseless. They couldn't imagine the tragedy that might unfold, because to a point, they were resigned to it.

Lixin was, too, but for an entirely different reason. Because he had seen it time and time again, replaying the worst loop a person could ever hope to have in their own head. The death of the woman they loved. The raising of the gun. The look in her eyes, and the way in which he knew he would always, always be too late in trying to save her.

It’s going to be okay, she reassured. Now she had to remember her training. Close the blinds, she squeezed Johnny’s arm before getting up to do just that. They always preached hiding, if you could, but where could they go? The only other room attached was the small bathroom, but Johnny was currently hooked up and it would take time, and risk. Another bang. The risk, Birdie decided, was something she’d have to take. The IV she could carry, she just needed to secure the door.

It was as if that thought triggered it. The universe telling her she was a fraction too late for a party she didn’t know was being held in her honour. The door burst open, and standing in front of her was a familiar face, surprising but instantly filling her with dread.

But the gun shot, and it was a gun shot, how couldn't it have not been? That was what made him pause. What made his stomach contort, his intestines writhe, and his mind start to explode with the worst kind of feeling possible. Deja vu. He had heard that sound before in this building. The echoing of similar screams from another scared person. In his mind he had replayed those moments over and over and over again. But another voice countered the fear. Telling him that anything could happen at any point, and one gun shot didn't equate to the worst case scenario.

If he believed it, his body certainly didn't. Lixin was tensed up as he saw nurses beginning to run. Whether it was to or away from the shots, he couldn't quite tell, his own hearing feeling like it was distorted. Like the world was shifting and he was doing his best to level off in this new kind of gravity. The only thing that was running through his mind was one name.

"I'm going to let you get some rest, and your nurse will be with you here shortly to get more of the specifics squared away. If you have any questions, feel free to ask, and its been a pleasure being a part of your recovery." That was one of the major perks of being a doctor. He was more of an absent father than anything else. He didn't always need the best people skills.

Lixin smiled at Olivia, and then walked swiftly from the room, checking the charts to see which room came next. Each shift was like this. A rotation of doors he walked in and out of. Nurses that brought their concerns. Patients who didn't want the prescribed treatments. He loved it all. There was a pattern to how hospitals flowed. Things that Lixin was always able to predict, even with his senses being dulled.

With a reassuring smile to Johnny, she moved over to the door way and poked her head out to investigate. She wasn't sure what she saw. There was confusion, yes, many staff like herself in the middle of their checks. But there was fear too. Obvious in the way people moved.

"Excellent. Your at-home PT will be given a full list of notes, along with recommendations from your orthopedic surgeon. He'll like want specific exercises done fairly regularly." Lixin wasn't a surgeon, he was just making sure that a trauma patient was going home in good hands. That the rest of her health was taken care of, too.

He looked both ways before shoving himself into a closet, hands digging in his pockets for a few capsules he kept tucked away from anyone else’s prying eyes. As soon as they hit the back of his throat, the headache was gone, his mind was clear, and no voices seemed like they might burst from his ears at any moment. Lixin let out a deep, contented sigh, feeling, for the first time since he woke up that morning, that today might actually be a good day. Three back to backs was never what anyone wanted, but there wasn’t much of a choice in a city with a dwindling supply of medical personnel. There wasn’t much money in it, not when being a criminal was far more lucrative. His ethereum dealer would attest to that.

Shoving the door open he straightened himself up and went to his first patient of the day. Luckily, this wasn’t emergency, and he could go about a relatively leisurely pace unless alarms started ringing. And fuck if the alarms weren’t always seeming to ring in this place. How had he gotten used to it all? Likely just exposure to the elements. It was here, in the hospital, where Lixin felt the most at home. Every time he knocked on a patient’s door, gave them what he hoped was a good smile, and read through their charts, he felt purposeful. Today he had Olivia Caste. Thirty-eight. She had come in with two broken legs, a need for major surgery, and far more physical therapy than anyone could ever want.