Almost reminds me of someone...

But I'm doing it for you, man. Even though hanging out with you isn't quite the same with you being so still.

The florescent lighting and dull grayness that surrounded the hallway had continued to give Owen flashbacks of when he visited Eli's room when he was in a coma. It wasn't one of his happiest memories he loved to cherish and remember, but it managed to squirm its way into his mind making him grow more irritated by the second. He walked down the narrow hall, until he approached room two-hundred thirty-seven. His piercing blue eyes peered into the room, prior to entering and they caught sight on a pale Mark Fitzgerald laying down, eyes closed shut in a hospital bed. After standing in the doorway for several minutes, Owen gained the courage to finally take a step into the room and made his way to Fitz's still body. Owen had never seen him quite this motionless or silent ever in his life The only noise that filled the room, were the soft beeps from the heart monitor, and the only movements made by Fitz were the rise and fall of his chest, as he took in deep breathes. Owen stopped at the side of the bed trying to tear his eyes away from Fitz. He dug his hands into his pockets as if he was trying to find the right words to come up with. With every fiber in his being, he attempted to keep his composure. With pleading eyes, he stared at Fits as he wished so desperately for his eyes to just open, and for him to be alright, and to just know that Fitz was really hearing his words as he began to speak. "Hey, man," he started off, it wasn't much, but it was the only thing he was really able to say. Owen's thoughts were racing as they searched for more words to come to him...and then they hit. "Look man...you've got to pull through. You have to. I...I need you, man...and yeah I realize that's a real wimp thing to say, but fuck man it's true. I need you because without you I ain't shit. I'll just be Owen Milligan. Without you I won't have a partner in crime, or a best friend, and especially...a brother." He stopped momentarily to laugh at last night's incident, "Ha, fuck you should've seen me last night. I, without a doubt, had a nurse going that I was your real brother. The bitch wouldn't let me in though, and I flipped a shit." He chuckled a bit but started to swallow the lump forming in his throat. "Man, you have to fight, not just for me...but for everyone else like Bianca and Imogen. I know how strong you really fucking are, and I know any moment now you'll awaken. So please, just hang in there man. Hell, let's face it, we both know why we hate these goddamn hospitals."

On a hot, blistering day in the beginning of September, when Owen and Fitz were merely four or five years old, Owen's mother had just dropped him off to meet with her friend's son, Mark Fitzgerald. When Owen saw Fitz he wasn't too excited, and Fitz wasn't so pleased about the whole thing either. While both of their mom's were inside, Fitz had kicked Owen's bike to the ground, scratching the paint off of it easily. "Hey! That's not yours!" Owen shouted at him. Fitz wasn't too amused and just smirked as he replied, "Well, it isn't yours either. I don't see your stupid name on it." Fitz lifted his foot and stomped hard on the chain of Owen's bicycle, and the chain snapped instantly. "What are you going to do? Cry about it?" Fitz sneered at Owen and let out a sinister chuckle. Before he knew what hit him, Owen was on top of him, punching him left and right. Fitz fought back equally as aggressive connecting his fist to Owen's jaw and nose. Their mothers walked outside to investigate the loud noises they heard coming from outside, and practically had to peel the two boys apart as they weakly tried to punch, shove, and kick each other one last time. The worried mom's brought the two boys to the hospital to find one had a fractured wrist, and the other needed several stitches. While Fitz and Owen were stuck sitting there, for what felt like hours. They watched many disgustingly ill people walk in and out of the building, each making them want to throw up. As they waited for their moms to be done signing papers, Fitz turned to look at Owen and said, "You know what Milligan? You aren't so bad after all." Clearly impressed by Owen's toughness, and to which Owen replied, "You aren't either, Fitzgerald. You aren't either." Fitz looked straight at him informing him, "Hey, it's Fitz. Not Mark, not Fitzy, or Fitzgerald. It's Fitz, you got it?" Owen just shrugged his shoulders and sighed, "Whatever, man." From that day forward the two would always be there for one another, no matter what shit got in there way.     

The lack of sleep and food was starting to take its toll on Bianca, while Imogen went in to see Fitz she took the opportunity to run to the washroom and throw some cold water on her face, she starred at her reflection in the mirror her skin was pale and the circles under her eyes were more evident. Her hands gripped the sink with every second that ticked by her grip got tighter and her eyes grew darker. A single tear rolled down her pale cheeks but she didn’t flinch she just continued to stare at her reflection almost as if she was in a trance of some sort. The mix of emotions she was feeling was too much for her to keep bottled up inside she had to let the anger and the agony out without even thinking about it she curled her hand in to a tight fist her long red nails digging in and tearing the skin of her palm, she turned her body around and with every once of strength she had she hit the wall in front of her. A shot of pain traveled from her hand to the rest of her body and for those brief seconds her heart didn’t ache.

Once again she hit the wall with her fist this time with more force than the last time again the pain she felt in her hand made her heart ache seem somewhat a little more bearable.  She continued to throw punches at the wall until she was unable to feel any more pain from the numbness of her hands the skin of her knuckles had torn and small droplets of blood fell to the floor of the small wash room as she paced back and forth, she tried to get her breathing to even out but her body was still high off of the adrenaline that was flowing through it as she turned on her heel her eyes fell on the metal trashcan a devilish grin appeared on her pink lips she walked over to it picked it up and flung it across the room there was a loud bang heard as the metal hit the tiled wall and then as it fell down to the floor. Bianca stood there staring at the mess she had just made a weak laugh left her lips that soon turned in to her laughing hysterically, tears began to roll down her face but Bianca didn’t care she continued to laugh until her laughter turned to sobs her knees gave out on her and she fell to the floor. Slowly Bianca pulled her legs up to her chest and she wrapped her arms around them letting her head rest on them.

Her small sobs were the only thing that filled the washroom, the numbness of her hands was starting to wear off and the pain was beginning to take its place. There was a low knock on the door that caused Bianca to jump up—“Miss are you okay?” she heard a female voice ask from the other side of the door. She took a few steps towards the sink and let the cold water run she placed her hands under the faucet and threw cold water on her face she wiped the mascara that was running down her face.

“Miss, please open the door.” The female voice was heard once again but Bianca ignored it, she knew what was going to happen she would open the door they would see the mess and her hands and they would try and clean her up and maybe even see if she was having a mental meltdown which really wasn’t that far fetched after all the pain Bianca had been put through in the last few weeks. After about five minutes of the knocking she finally heard the nurse’s footsteps taking her to another direction. Bianca took that as her chance to leave the washroom without being interrogated by the nurse or anyone else. As Bianca walked back to the waiting room she saw Imogen’s head resting on Jake’s shoulder, everyone else was sitting around the waiting room. Bianca walked around to the double doors that led to the room that Fitz was in. Making sure that she kept her hands conceled from the nurse that stood in front of Fitz’s door Bianca walked closer “can I see him?” she asked the lady who just nodded at her and stepped away from the door.

Of all of the events that had befallen Mark Fitzgerald’s life in the past year, this had been the one thing he could have never anticipated. He’d never been a stranger to tragedy, or even the harder facets of life, but as he walked along the streets, his Converse scuffing even more than they already were as his feet dragged along the pavement, he knew nothing could have prepared him for this, the possibility of being a father. His blue eyes fluttered shut as he replayed his conversation with Bianca from that night over in his mind, frantically probing her words in search of anything that could set this to rest, but in his current frenzied state, all of his memories of the night when Bianca had confessed about her pregnancy were obscured by a foggy haze. There was no solace to be found in his memory, that much was clear—the only answer would be found in talking to Bianca herself, something Fitz didn’t know if he could pluck up the courage to do. But as Imogen’s face flashed before his eyes, the tell-tale expression of hurt painting her features, Fitz knew he had to find out the truth, because it wasn’t just his sanity at stake here, it was Imogen’s as well.

Drawing in a shaky breath through his lips, Fitz tried to grasp at some tangible bit of sanity, needing it, craving it, in this moment, but with a sinking heart, he knew that wasn’t an option. Regardless of who he believed the father to be, the timing was all wrong—because the timing meant that there was a slight chance Torres hadn’t fathered her baby. Because Bianca hadn’t just been sleeping with Torres in New York, as she’d slept with Torres the night their relationship had reached its breaking point—meaning she’d gone from sleeping with him to Torres. He didn’t fault her for it, given his own tangled history, particularly that concerning the messy affairs of him, Middleton, and Bee—but it still left much up for interpretation. As Fitz walked along the sidewalk, he knew that interpretations and doubts couldn’t be accepted here—he had to know the truth. And it was as if his feet were thinking the same thing, Fitz realized, as his blue eyes rose to linger on the house that had once contained his heart—the house where he’d fallen in love with the girl he would never forget, Bianca DeSousa herself.

It's nice to know I have people looking out for me and my baby.

>.<