Chapter Text
If any of the doctors or any other patient in the hospital was asked, they would have all answered that it was a simple white ceiling.
If Collei was asked, she would vaguely reply that it was the ceiling in room 203, that she had been admitted five or six hours ago, and that they had forgotten to leave the curtain ajar so she could see the stars when she woke up.
That was normal in such situations.
Collei was diagnosed with an ancient and rare incurable disease the same month she turned six years old, and since then, every time the young girl suffered a relapse her family would soon take her to the same hospital so that the same doctor as always would attend to her; also, the doctor would prescribe the same treatment as every time, say her famous "We are still researching a cure" speech and then leave for another three days with some words of encouragement for the green-haired girl, which only reminded her of her pathetic condition.
Collei was unaware that that day was her twelfth birthday until she managed to see the sticker she had put on her index finger the night before.
— It had to be today... — she mumbled, with the oxygen mask over her mouth —. Mom went to a lot of effort to bake the cake and Dad spent a lot on the decorations for the party....
It wasn't just his mother. Her older brother, Tighnari, had been bragging to her about how beautiful the birthday present he'd bought her was and how much she'd love it, in a silly show of hiding from his little sister the punctures she had in her fingers from the needle and the bad sewing lessons Amber (Collei's best friend) had given her.
She also remembered the invitations she had tried so hard to make and how hard it had been for her to approach and invite the few girls she knew from her class, and how they, despite not interacting too much with her, gladly accepted and promised her they would go without fail.
"Maybe I overdid it... This must be my punishment for trying to get close to other people, knowing that I'm a unclean person...", she thought, feeling helpless, unable to hold back her tears and being aware that there was no one around to comfort her.
The relapse had been harder than usual and the doctor ordered the girl to be isolated in the ward to avoid a possible contagion, leaving her to her fate and deep in her heart wishing eternal rest to the poor creature she had seen grow up between sighs and expressions of pity.
And while the tears were falling from her face and in her heart she only repeated over and over again her wish not to return to that hospital ward, either because of the disappearance of her illness or the early visit of death, the door opened and someone entered the ward.
Collei's teary eyes soon met a thin, dull-eyed boy, who, without speaking to her, walked over to the small table next to the gurney and took the papers with the girl's medical report.
— W-Who are you...? — she asked with characteristic shyness, trying to move her hands to wipe away her tears —. Y-you shouldn't be here.
The newcomer looked at her for a moment and then averted his gaze, while his cheeks tinged slightly red and his hands began to tremble.
— I-I'm sorry... I was asked to come and pick up your report... — he ducked his head —. I'm s-sorry to have bothered you...
Two soft knocks came at the door, and after a few moments, another person entered the room. The man was dressed in the white hospital apron, but his appearance was somewhat more casual; his hair was a bit messy for a doctor and his eyes did not look very kind.
— I see that the so-called prodigy lady was not lying — said the man, approaching the stretcher; he did not hesitate to make eye contact with the young woman —. Good afternoon, little one. Do you feel any kind of numbness? Itching in your arms?
Having to interact with two strangers in such a short time left her in shock, unable to speak, but after a few seconds she managed to gather her strength to answer "No" with a nod of her head.
— I'm glad that's so — the man stood up straight and then received the papers handed to him by the blond, finally stopping to contemplate the bag with the liquid medicine he himself had asked to administer; he then looked at the young man —. You have already accomplished your mission. You can leave now, Freminet.
The blond nodded silently and after a last exchange of glances in which he was not able to hold out his handkerchief for him to wipe his face, he bowed his head again in apology and finally withdrew like a shooting star from the room.
Collei began to wonder if he had been doped with some new medicine that made him see hallucinations, for she knew for a fact that when he was isolated in that room, no one would enter without the doctor's permission.
She didn't have too much time to digress on that idea nor much less to think, as the blond boy had to listen to the monologue of presentation of doctor Dottore (who apparently was a former teacher of her older brother) in complete silence to try to find in the words of the adult that hint of lie with which all the doctors treated her when they saw her. The green-haired girl put all her attention on his lips, on his gestures and on the way he walked around the room, but when silence finally returned, she was not able to find what she was looking for.
Those words that promised to cure her of her illness and take her out of the miserable life she was leading, were spoken with honesty.
And as Collei cried again after receiving a glimmer of hope, Freminet paused at the hospital entrance and looked back for the first time in a long time, remembering how the dreams of the girl she had just seen were reflected in her little amethyst eyes.
— She... — he whispered, as a hand rested on his shoulder —. Father... Is crying really a symbol of weakness...?
Arlecchino opened the umbrella.
— Tears are the product of feelings, and feelings result in a failed mission — declared the woman, starting to walk towards the car with her adopted son —. Did you cry while you were doing your job?
He shook his head.
— The girl that Mr. Dottore visited was crying when I entered her room — he answered, looking at the floor —. Her medical examinations described a physically weak person, but...
Freminet paused and smiled sheepishly.
— But she is a strong person at heart.
Arlecchino gently stroked the boy's hair and after a few seconds, motioned him to move on.
She swore to herself that she would never again let her children take direct orders from Dottore, for whenever she allowed it, they learned things she did not want to teach them.
— Val ✨💜