It was tough for Sabrina to tell just how much time had passed. She had been staring out the curved bedside window, tracing the delicate dancing trails of the delivery drones for what could have been days, weeks, or maybe even hours. The floor was still dirty behind her - a broken needle and its clear empty casing resting just by the door. She had looked at it once, and thought about cleaning it up - but only for a moment before that same sick shame and familiar guilt froze her in place yet again.

Several automated food deliveries had piled high though the tiny delivery door in the kitchen - a silver air-lock door only accessible by the few delivery drones that made it into the building. Every time a chime would signal a new delivery, pushing a plastic box through the counter door, Sabrina would jump just a little, breaking her from her windowed daydream. Eventually, the counter filled, and the boxes pushed each other forward, splatting to the ground in a pile. It reminded Sabrina of the arcade coin machines from her childhood and she smiled - but only for a moment before she started to trace the familiar lines of the drones yet again.

Eventually, a sickly scent filled the kitchen area, potent enough to make a steady whispering trail into Sabrina’s bedroom. It was only then that Sabrina decided it was time to finally do something, and with a weak and shaking stretch, she lifted herself out of bed.

As expected, the small kitchen was a disaster - decaying food lay in splatters on the cold white floor, the noxious scent contorting her face. She stared at the pile, unsure of where to begin, pacing back and forth, and plucking out what few arm hairs she had left.

I can fix this.

I need to fix this.

I can’t fix this.

And with a final slump, Sabrina’s already weak legs gave in, and she fell to the cold floor, her white hair dancing around her like little ghosts.

How could she be so tired without even doing anything? She slipped back further, letting her head rest against the cold floor. She turned her head away from the mess, only to be confronted with the tiny broken needle at the front door, inches from her face.

Sabrina knew what she had done. She saw it in flashes every time she closed her eyes. Red’s horrified stare just before the door slammed in her face - the empty needle in her hand. She remembered throwing it against the heavy metal door - over and over again until it finally broke in shards on the floor.

Why though?

Why did she hurt him? Why did she hurt the only person that seemed to really care about her the entire time she’s been in this mess? It tore into her, clinging to her chest in new tight ringlets, and her breath caught in her throat yet again.

She wanted to Sage more than anything - to dance and run and to exist without the aching horror that gripped her - tying her arms and legs to the floor in invisible chains.

Had anyone found Red yet? Or was he still out there on the floor of the hallway, alone like her, in perfect mirror just out of her reach? The door had remained tightly locked shut since he had closed it just in front of her face - and she was grateful for it. She had no desire to go outside - she preferred to hide here, melting away in her own mess. Maybe the growing food pile would finally consume her, and she would be one with the filth, decaying with it until she was nothing but another sickly smell.

She closed her eyes.

There was yet another bright chiming noise from the kitchen, and a plastic box slid through the drawer to the counter, toppling over the ever-growing tower of food. With a steady squeak, the box pushed the already piled high meals, pushing them off all at once with a dramatic and wet cascade to the pile on the floor. Tiny bright arcade bells whistled around Sabrina’s head as the coins continued to fall. She smiled. She had won the grand prize.

..////..

When Sabrina finally woke, there was a familiar smell in the air. It wasn’t the pungent sickly smell of the decaying kitchen mess, but something much more pleasant. Something sweet.

Her eyes opened weakly, letting the morning light in, and she felt a slight tug on her arm. She turned to see a clear, white tube coming from her arm and trailing to a clear bag hanging from above her shoulder.

She was able to sit up, much to her surprise, and found herself in her own bedroom. She breathed in again, and was hit with a warm cinnamon sweet embrace. Her mouth was watering.

It was Red who walked around the corner, holding a plate with still-steaming cinnamon rolls piled high on a white plate. His eyes widened as he saw her there, and Sabrina half expected him to drop them.

“Am I… Am I dead?” Sabrina spoke, her voice dry and shaking.

Red’s mouth was open, his bottom silver-plated teeth just catching the dim morning light.

Finally, he shook his head. He placed the plate on her bedside table and slowly sat on the edge of her bed, close to her covered feet. She wanted to touch him - to kiss him, to hug him, anything to make sure he was real. There were so many things she wanted to say to him but every single time she started, the words seemed to overlap and catch in her throat.

It was Red who spoke first. He gestured to the table.

“It’s an old recipe. I found someone Downtown who could make it. They’re too sweet for me but I thought ya might like ‘em. When… When you ‘woke.”

Sabrina reached, grabbing the top roll. Sweet, yellow-white frosting delicately dripping down the golden brown sides in perfect little drops. When it hit her tongue - it hit her with a sudden ecstasy, reminding her of her first Sage trip as she felt the sugar sweetness roll through her entire body. It was gone in two bites.

Sabrina looked up to see a soft smile on Red’s face, and tiny butterflies unwound the bitter thorns in her stomach and throat. He seemed so tired, with deep lines of worry criss-crossing over his pale pointed face. He was wearing the same loose necked black knitted sweater she had seen him wear time and time again, and his sharp white collarbones just peeked over the frayed collar.

He must have caught her staring though as when he caught her eyes, he fidgeted with his sleeves anxiously, pulling them over his palms.

“I’m sorry…” Red started, “I’m sorry for leaving ya here by yourself for so long. I thought… I thought you’d be okay with the food an’ everything.”

Sabrina shook her head frantically.

“No. No, no, no,” she spoke.

She leaned forward to him, putting his head between her two clammy hands, pulling the IV tight on her arm. She stared desperately into his widened eyes.

“No apologizing,” she continued, “I thought… I thought she killed you…. I thought I killed you.”

Sabrina watched as Red shut his eyes, turning away from her.

“Then… Then I guess we’re even,” he said, shaking his head as he carefully lowered her arms to her lap.

Sabrina watched as he removed the IV from her arm, carefully bandaging the entry wound, his slender fingers shaking in concentration.

“You needed fluids,” he mumbled as he placed the bag and tubes in a neat pile on her nightstand. “You weren’t… You weren’t movin’.”

There was a long moment of silence as they both sat on her bed. She searched his face as he seemed to search hers. There were no words as Sabrina listened to the tiny hum of a drone pass by her window. He was really here.

“I… I have to talk to you about somethin’,” Red finally spoke, “As much as I don’t wanna leave ya here again by yourself, I might not be here for a while.”

“No… Please…” Sabrina began.

“Listen,” Red said, putting his hands on hers, “There might be a way…. A way for me to find a cure. Something to keep you safe at night. Listen.”

But Sabrina couldn’t listen. As Red began to tell of his grand plans on infiltrating Optica, of saving her and Ami and all the rest of them, her ears filled with the familiar drone buzz, drowning him out. She watched his excitement, his passionate erratic gestures as he walked around her room, and she wished that she could join him. But she was numb again, and a delicate familiar daydream of dancing in the forest filled her thoughts, only this time Red was with her, and she couldn’t help but smile.

Red seemed to take her peaceful expression as further encouragement as he pulled her to him in a warm embrace. She surrendered, her cheek against his, breathing in his familiar warm scent. It was in that moment that she wanted to stay, there with him, warm and safe, but a tiny tear at the corner of her eye betrayed her.

“Then… Then we could finally be together,” Red whispered.