Not Afraid to Die

"Hi, honey," their father whispered near Lolita's ear, "Its daddy."

She didn't move. Her eyes didn't flutter open, her head didn't twitch. She was unresponsive. Completely and totally.

Sighing, he collapsed into the chair Dante once used and grabbed hold of his daughter's IV-stabbed hand. Dante eased himself into Rian's chair, slouching and crossing his arms over his chest, eyes trained on his younger sibling.

Why couldn't she just wake up?

"How long has she been out?" his father asked.

"Since yesterday around lunch time."

"Wow." To the motionless Lolita, he said, "Well, honey, that's a record for you. I don't think you'll ever break it."

A smile cracked on Dante's face. It was a small thing, barely visible. The corners of his mouth were turned in the slightest manner and a small amount of light jumped to his eyes, the once dim sea foam green orbs igniting. His father noticed the subtle signs and hid a smile of relief. He didn't need his son to be so worried about his sibling's life that all he could do was stare at her with that pained expression.

Lolita wouldn't be very happy to see him looking at her in such a way if she did return to the world of the conscious.

Beeping of the heart monitor blanketed them, consistent and calming. She's still alive it told them with each beep. Beep, she's. Beep, still. Beep, alive. As long as the monitor continued to beep the chant, they could keep up hope.

"How do you do it?" Dante asked, cutting through the staccato chant of the heart monitor.

The question forced his father's emerald eyes to dart to him. "Do what?"

Dante looked at his father. "Manage to stay so calm about this."

When he walked into the hospital room, he hadn't asked about Lolita. He hadn't even made any indication that he knew she was lying on the hospital bed. Her still state had been a mild joke moments ago.

Dante had tried to act in such a way when Lolita was a few hours into her unconscious state. He hadn't made many jokes, but he and Rian had talked about her in less than serious manner.

Then, the six hour mark hit, and Lolita was officially in a coma.

Coma sounded so permanent.

"I keep in mind that the medical staff will do what they can to keep her alive. I've seen your mother drop into more than one coma. I knew the same would happen to Lolita at some point."

"You're not scared?"

"I am, and I know you are. It's okay to be scared, but it doesn't help her if we allow ourselves to be that affected by it. She needs us to stay strong and believe in her ability to fight."

"It's hard, though. I feel like any minute now, Carter is going to come in and give us bad news, or Blaine will come in to take her vitals and tell us she's gone."

His father was quiet. Both could well happen, but there would be some indicator from the machines in the room that she was dying before Doctor Cart would give them the news. They would screech in alarm at any sign of trouble. That was their job.

"Do you hear the heart monitor, Dante?" his father asked.

Dante said nothing, listening to the beep of the monitor. He could hear it clearly. It was possibly the loudest thing in the room. The other machines in the room were polite enough, submissive enough, to allow the heart monitor to draw all the attention to it and repeat its uplifting chant as loud as it could.

Beep she's. Beep still. Beep alive.

"Yes, sir."

"Do you know what it's telling you?"

"What?"

"That you should keep up hope because your sister is still alive. And, as long as it continues to beep, you should do what you can to make your sister's waking pleasurable."

"What if it stops beeping?"

"It won't."

"But—"

"Don't. 'What if' is a phrase that'll drop you into a boiling pot of fear and agony. 'What it' won't help you get through this. 'What if' will be your enemy, one you shouldn't keep close. Stop thinking about what could happen to her."

"What am I supposed to think about then?"

"The good times with her, the bad times with her, the fact that her heart is beating and she's breathing on her own."

Positive was a far better state for the mind to dwell in. Negative thoughts only made life difficult. Sure, they would be there. That was a trait of negative thoughts, persistence. But combating them with positive thoughts kept the mind from succumbing to depression.

"There are no bad times with Lolita," Dante remarked, smiling.

"There aren't, are there?" his father mused, his thumb rubbing circles against her hand.

"Never."

"Oh," a voice blurted from the doorway.

Dante and his father turned their attention to the new occupant in the room. Clad in his nurse scrubs, chart in hand, Blaine stood in the doorway, looking from Dante to the man in the chair next to him. Dante smiled warmly at him, something Blaine hadn't seen much of since Lolita fell into an unconscious state.

It was rather attractive and didn't do much to help Blaine get over his shock of seeing the man in the chair next to Dante.

"Um," he started, gathering his bearings, "Hi, I'm Blaine. I'm Lolita's nurse during the daytime."

His classic spiel. Anytime someone he didn't recognize was in the room, he was obligated to introduce himself. Familiarity was necessary with any relationship pertaining to his patients. The family, friends, and such had to know who he was when he came in. After all, he was constantly around during the day, his shifts ranging anywhere from eight hours to fifteen hours.

That familiarity wasn't all that important for the nurse who took the majority of the night shift.

"Blaine," Dante's father boomed happily, pushing himself from his chair and walking across the room with large steps.

He was excited his son was finally dating again, and an attractive male nurse at that. Dante's last serious relationship was during high school with some uptight blonde who insisted he miss band practice to sit with her while she got her nails done. Poor delusional Dante was under the impression he was in love at the time, so he put up with it. Finally came to his senses months later and broke up with her.

His father couldn't have been prouder by the way Dante handled the break up.

But now, he was dating a male nurse. This was the type of person he needed. Someone who had a busy life, just as he had. They could go about their days, being busy worker bees, and relax with each other during down time. When Dante would go on tour, Blaine could be fine staying behind with his work keeping him busy. Surely, there would be some strain, but they could work through it.

He had put a lot of thought into what type of person Dante needed in his life.

Blaine froze as the large man ambled across the room and stopped in front of him with the largest smile he had seen from anyone in the ICU.

No, that wasn't true. Lolita's smiles had been just as wide.

"I'm Dante's father," he held a hand out, "Call me David."

"Nice to meet you," Blaine said, shaking the man's hand, trying not to appear frightened.

Dante's father looked Blaine up and down, emerald eyes examining the boy in nurse scrubs. He was young, that much was obvious, and fit. Scared, too, but that was okay. He was sure he looked like a maniac rushing across the room to greet him.

He turned back to his son. "I approve."

Dante sighed, "Well, Blaine, you've met my crazy father and my crazy sister. I hope they haven't scared you away."

His father wasn't normally like this. He wasn't. Blurting things that were unnecessary was Lolita's terrain. This must have been revenge for something Dante couldn't remember.

Or maybe he really was that excited.

Blaine smiled. "They couldn't scare me away if they tried."

"Don't give him a challenge. I'm afraid he'll take it."

"Oh, hush," his father said, moving from the nurse's path, "I'll let you do your job, Blaine."

"Before I do, who's staying with Lolita overnight? Only one person is allowed and I need to make note for the new night shift nurse so she doesn't get confused."

"I forgot about that," Dante mumbled. He exchanged a glance with his father.

"I'll stay," his father decided for them.

"Are you sure?"

"Dante, you need to go home and rest."

"Okay," Dante sighed.

"Invite Rian over or something. I don't want you home alone."

"Yes, sir."