—Hecato

Three weeks passed in the hospital.

Every day, Julian got a little more of his strength back. His feverish symptoms were all greatly diminished, if not completely gone, by then. He was eating more at every meal, and though I couldn't tell if he'd really put on enough weight, he looked better.

Healthier.

The glow that I loved so much about him would shine through his face at intermittent times, and I would recognize more of him—more of the man that I knew and loved more than words. I truly believed that he was coming back to me, one little piece at a time.

Just about every day, Tommy would stop by to visit with us and check on Julian's progress. One day, he even brought his new girlfriend, Gina, along. Each time he came, Tommy happily noted how much better Julian looked. I did notice differences in Julian, but since we were spending nearly all of our minutes together, the differences were more subtle to my eyes—just as a mother may not have noticed her own child growing several inches at a time.

After a full month at the hospital, the doctors found Julian well enough to start some light physical therapy a couple of times a week, much to his dismay. He was swimming and doing light cardio to gain some of his strength back, which became a more apparent benefit as he moved around easier each day. The more jokes he cracked in a day, the better I knew Jules was feeling, and the better I felt in return.

Not that I ever had before, but especially after everything that had happened, I promised myself to never take another moment with Julian for granted.

As odd as it was, I had never been happier than I was while cuddled next to Julian in that hospital bed. Not because I wanted him to be sick—never—but because I felt that I had already lost him, and then was given a second chance.

This was an extraordinarily rare opportunity to start all over from scratch, make things right, and take everything one day at a time. Second chances like these had never presented themselves to me before this, so I held on to hope with all of my heart and might.

I held on to Julian, and offered him a steady hand, whenever he needed one.

We were alone in our own little world in that hospital room, which I loved. There were no pressures of work and everyday life crashing down on us. No assignments to write. No performances. No flights to catch. Time and schedules didn't exist, apart from Julian's physical therapy and dialysis. We took everything at his own speed—slow at first, then picking up some pace, as he gained more ability.

I rediscovered things about Julian that made me fall even deeper in love with him, as if that were even possible. I adored the way his eyes squinted when he laughed uncontrollably. And the way the left side of his mouth always turned up, before his right, when he smiled. And the way his thick brows furrowed when he was deep in concentration.

I silently vowed to also remember the beautiful peculiarities of him, in which I found familiarity. Like the distinct way he sighed and mumbled when a soccer match on TV was disappointing him. Or the curious way his voice would naturally place inflections on certain words, like know or suppose. And the enamoring way I would catch him affectionately staring at me every so often, as if he were seeing me for the very first time again.

Most days were spent tending to anything that Julian wanted or needed, and I was more than happy to do so. Comfortably, we settled into a nightly routine of sipping herbal tea while cuddling in the inclined hospital bed and laughing at the jokes of late night British talk show hosts. Little by little, Julian's laughter became more recognizable, warm, and ebullient.

Simple reminders of his soul coming back to life were sprinkled everywhere, and I savored each one as it came.

At St. Shepherd's, I chose to never talk about the dark things—the things from which we were working so hard to run away. In time, when and if we were both strong enough, mentally and physically, we could've discussed it all. But, at that time, there was no need. We were together and we were happy, despite the unhappiest of all circumstances. So, nothing else mattered to me.

Because of the medicine, Julian would usually fall asleep before me. I'd often watch his eyes flutter under his closed eyelids and wonder what he was dreaming about. Eventually, it would get late enough to where I finally felt drowsy, too, and could sleep. Quietly, I would make sure he was completely covered by the blankets, then nuzzle onto his shoulder and follow him off into dreamland, always hoping to meet him wherever he was.

Never leaving him, I became as much a fixture in Julian's room as the floral paintings on the white walls.

When Julian went to physical therapy and dialysis, I would sneak off to find Nina to have more testing done. Normally, she said, the assessments alone could take between three and eighteen months to complete, but we were, thankfully, moving much faster than the norm in that regard.

The tests were comprehensive, both physically and psychologically.

For the laboratory tests alone, I was screened for pancreatitis, electrolyte balance, glucose intolerance, venereal disease, and liver abnormalities. An EKG was performed, then they took X-rays of my kidneys, heart, ribs, lungs, spine, and blood vessels.

As if all of that were not enough, they took CT scans of my entire upper body. They measured my urine samples for kidney efficiency and protein levels. Afterward, they injected a dye into my arm and watched it pass through my urine, to identify the structure of my kidneys and bladder.

Everything was checking out well, so they moved along to assess my family's medical history, and then performed a psychological evaluation—during which, they asked about my motivations for wanting to donate my kidney, and ensured I was of a sound mind to do so.

Check, check, and check.

After a month of testing on various days, there was only one test left to do—the renal arteriogram, which would show the vasculature of both my kidneys. That test, Nina said, would have to wait until Julian actually needed the transplant.

But everything else was ready and in place, just in case the future called for it.

...

"Brooke, may I speak to you for a moment?" Nina pulled me aside one day, after most of the testing had been completed.

"Sure," I said, as we stepped into a private screening room.

"Please let me know if I'm overstepping my boundaries here," Nina said, as she shut the door behind us. Her eyes scrolled over the paperwork in front of her. "I know Julian said that you are family, but are you actually related? By blood?"

"No," I answered with a puzzled expression.

"I've never seen this happen before in my fifteen years in the healthcare field." Nina stared wide-eyed at the papers before her.

"What is it?" I desperately hoped something wasn't wrong.

"Both of you share the blood type of A Positive, which is rare enough," she said, almost laughing to herself. "That makes you a perfect blood match. But your tissue typing..."

"Is it bad?" I felt my heart working harder to pump blood throughout my tense body.

"Brooke, have a look at this." She showed me a chart. "HLA is tissue typing. It stands for human leukocyte antigen. An antigen is simply a protein in the blood, whose function it is to help the body differentiate between self and non-self. Basically, it protects your body by letting it know to leave something alone, or to attack something that doesn't belong, like a virus or bacteria."

I was trying my best to follow, but Nina was moving too hastily in her excitement.

"There are well over one hundred different antigens in the body, but only six are important for organ transplantation—A, B, and DR types."

I stared at her face, then back at the paperwork, attempting to keep up.

"The more similar the antigens are between a donor and the person receiving the transplant, the less likely it is for the person receiving the organ to have his body reject the tissue, since the new organ's makeup would be recognizable to his body."

"And Julian will reject mine, because our antigens are different?" I guessed that was where Nina was headed with this.

"Brooke, we've done transplants where there are only one or two matching antigens, and it turned out ideally." Nina laughed and kept her eyes on the files, almost in shock. "We've done transplants where there are no matching antigens, and with immunosuppressants, it turned out just fine."

"How many matching antigens do Julian and I have then?" My heart raced in anticipation.

"Are you sure you're not related?" Nina repeated her question from earlier, smiling to herself.

"Nina." I couldn't take it any longer.

"You and Julian have six perfectly matching antigens," Nina said, in complete awe. "The chances of a perfect match between two unrelated people are..."

For a moment, Nina stared off, deep in thought—silently pondering—before continuing on.

"Most of the time, identical twins don't even have six matching antigens," the nurse explained. "I've never seen this happen before in my life."

"We're really a match?" Tears brimmed along my big brown eyes. "A perfect match? So we can move forward?"

"When and if Julian needs it, you would be the ideal candidate for a donor, yes." Nina nodded, with a tear of her own in her eye.

...

I composed myself as best as I could, after getting the good news from Nina. When I returned to Julian's room, I noticed that he was already back from dialysis... and had a guest.

A young woman was standing by his bed, laughing with him, with her back turned toward me.

In the doorway, I stood awkwardly, not wanting to interrupt them, but wondering with whom he was conversing. From the corner of his eye, Julian caught my outline in the door, and leaned around the female's arm to look me in the eyes.

"Here she is." Julian smiled wide and motioned for me to enter.

The girl turned around and I took in her gorgeous features. Straight, luminous, copper hair framed her square shaped face. I took note of her full lips, rounded nose, and sharp jawline. She looked oddly familiar.

"Brooke, it's so good to finally meet you." The stranger pulled me in for a long, affectionate hug.

"I'm Liz. Riley's daughter." Her perfectly straight, white teeth beamed in a giant smile as she corrected herself, "Julian's sister."

"Oh I—" I tried to shake the confusion and silly smile from my face. "I didn't know you've been in contact with Julian."

"Yeah, he found the company website not long ago and e-mailed me." Elizabeth smiled at her brother. "We've been texting on and off ever since, kind of getting to know each other. But this is the first time I've seen my brother in person. Not the best way to meet, but hey, I'll take it."

"I should really go." I pointed a finger out the door, to motion where I was headed. "You two probably need some privacy to talk. I'll just be in the waiting area."

"No, please stay, baby," Julian said from the bed, his choice of words making me blush.

"Yeah, stay, Brooke. Please." Liz's lips reminded me of Julian's. "I've heard so much about you that I feel like I already know you! That's odd, isn't it?"

"I don't think so." I grinned at her, and wondered what had made Julian change his mind.

Everything that had happened with Eileen—and finding the news of Riley's death—somehow hadn't deterred Julian from wanting to try one more time to connect with his family. It seemed that his sister was finding an actual way into his life, and I couldn't have been happier about this news. Granted, I didn't know Liz at all, but her familiar features and soft voice made me feel like I did.

The bow and arrow theory, that Julian had taught me so much about, was in effect. Arrows firing, and small pieces of trust building. Maybe Liz could've offered my soulmate some answers. And peace. My Julian deserved that peace.

He deserved every little bit of it that he could get.

"I was just telling Julian how much he reminds me of my—our—dad," Liz explained animatedly. "His big lips, big forehead!"

"What are you on about?" Julian joked with his sister. It was an amazing sight to behold. "I wouldn't be talking too much shit. Have you seen yourself lately? Because if big lips is the topic we're discussing..."

"Play nice," I said, casually strolling up to Julian's other side. "Liz is beautiful."

"You're actually even more gorgeous than your pictures," Liz said.

I blushed in confused embarrassment.

"Pictures?" I asked, while turning to face Julian.

"Yeah," Julian explained apprehensively. "When I found Liz, I texted her a few of us. The ones we took in Florida. I hope that's okay?"

"Oh, yeah, of course." I grabbed his rough hand, wondering how long he'd been talking to his sister, and what exactly they'd been talking about. "Of course, it's okay."

An hour passed with the three of us exchanging stories, laughing, and learning more about each other. For the most part, we avoided talking about Riley and his passing, which made the conversation refreshingly upbeat. That was, until Liz had to leave, and she asked me to walk her out. Julian gave his sister a strange, perplexed look, but was fine once I promised to return in a couple of minutes.

"Brooke, I know you mean a lot to my... brother." Liz laughed when we were out of his earshot, down the hospital hallway, "Sorry, it still feels odd to say that aloud."

"Well, your brother means the whole world to me," I assured her with genuineness in my voice.

"I know," she said, brushing a clump of hair away from her eyes. "I can tell by the way you look at him. I told him that he's lucky to have someone like you. Some people go their whole lives without having someone look at them, the way you look at him."

I felt myself blushing. As much as I tried to shield my emotions, I supposed that I really was an open book... when it came to Julian, at least.

"I have something that belongs to Julian, but I didn't think it was appropriate to leave it with him just yet," Liz explained while reaching into her purse. "So, I was sort of hoping that you could keep it safe, until he's ready for it."

"What is it?" I asked.

Liz handed me a thick, white, tape-sealed envelope with written across the front.

"It's a letter to Julian, from our dad," she said softly as I gripped the precious, sealed papers.

"I don't know if I can take this, Liz." I shook my head while closing my eyes, trying to concentrate on the best way to put my thoughts into words. "I will be terrified of losing it. And how will I know when he's ready to read it? I haven't had very good intuition with that sort of thing in the past."

I discernibly cringed at the memory of a filthy room at the Regal Inn.

"I know you won't lose it," Liz said confidently, standing taller. "And you know my brother better than anybody. You'll know when he's ready."

"Have you read it?" If she had, I wanted to know what was inside, so Julian could have been prepared, when the time was right.

"No, I wouldn't invade Julian's privacy like that," she swore. The condition of the perfectly sealed envelope backed up her story.

"Okay, Liz. I will hold on to it for a while then," I promised her.

"I knew you would." She leaned in to hug me goodbye—tighter than any two people who had just met would've normally hugged.

But we weren't strangers anymore. In her veins ran the same blood as the man with whom I wanted to spend every day of the rest of my life.

...

"I can't believe Laina is already on her way to Chicago," I announced to Julian that night when I received her text messages.

"That was so fast," he agreed, while sipping the last of his peppermint tea.

"Oh, look at this." I showed him the screen of my phone, with photos pulled up. "Some of Wes's paintings they sold before they left Tucson. Isn't he good?"

"Hey, yeah he is." Julian was surprisingly complimentary that evening. "Talented lad."

"I hope they like it in Illinois." I sighed. "I'm going to have to break the news to my mom soon, that I won't be going home for Thanksgiving."

"You can go home to your family, Brooke," Julian offered in a somber tone.

"No. I told you, I'm staying indefinitely." I kissed his cheek, which had gotten so much fuller as of late. His beautiful face was finally starting to round out again. "Besides, I thought we were family already."

"We are," he said seriously, and my insides melted.

"I do need to leave you soon, though," I teased, and he took the bait.

"What?" His beautiful, russet eyes went wild.

"I need to go down the hall to the laundry facilities to wash these clothes," I joked. "It's getting tiresome interchanging the same three outfits all the time."

"Very funny." Julian grabbed me by the waist as I stood next him, and pulled me down onto the bed. "You're going to pay for that."

"Am I?" I stared into his glowing, brown eyes. "How?"

"You'll see." He pretended to tickle my sides, but left just a centimeter of space between his fingertips and my skin. Still, it made me tense and jumpy at the expectation of his touch. "You won't know when, you won't know where, you won't know how... but I'm gonna get you, Fray."

"I tend to prefer Miles, actually," I said, only partially joking, while carefully examining his face.

His hands dropped back onto the mattress. Julian's mouth opened, then closed again, as he tried to find the words. Within seconds, his face was flushed.

"I, uh—" His voice cracked. Julian cleared his throat. "I prefer that as well. For you, not me. I mean, for me, too. I mean, for both of us."

The way he nervously stumbled over his words, like we were a couple of teenagers in puppy love, made me giggle behind closed lips.

I secretly hoped that maybe, in time, that would actually become a reality for us. For the time being, though, I was more than happy to just be as we were.

...

Late October rolled around before either of us realized it, and the doctors said that Julian would be cleared to go home soon. He wasn't back to one hundred percent yet, but Julian would be able to continue the physical therapy and dialysis as an outpatient, which excited both of us. He made me promise, time and time again, that I would stay with him, at his flat, once he was released. Each and every time, I assured Julian that there was no other place I would rather be.

Now and then, I would glance down at my wrist to read the words printed on my bracelet.

Dreams do come true, if only we wish hard enough. You can have anything in life, if you will sacrifice everything else for it.

My only wish was for Julian to survive this and come out stronger than before. Whatever sacrifice that would have entailed, I was ready to offer, wholeheartedly, and without so much as a second thought.

There was no doubting the fact that Julian had gone through hell, but from there, things would've only gotten better. He had to know that he would never be alone again.