The Beautiful Lie

I


For some reason, people always told Nathaniel the truth. He thought it was because of his rugged good looks (Natasha said it's because of his puppy-dog eyes; Nathaniel begs to differ). Whatever the cause, he thought of it as a blessing rather than a curse, although it had gotten him into some very awkward situations.

Like now.

Nathaniel made a habit of visiting the people he rescued from fires, making sure they were coping, showing them that they weren't alone. Little seven-year-old Sophie - bile rose up in his throat just thinking about the condition he had found her in. The blond, blue-eyed girl was recovering remarkably well, although she would carry scars for the rest of her life. This was his sixth time visiting her, and he'd come to think of her as a sort of niece or little sister. The orphaned child had no one else; the least he could do was visit her while she lay prone on the scratchy, white hospital sheets.

He knocked lightly on her doorframe before entering the small room. The little girl looked up from the dolls Nathaniel had bought her two weeks ago with a wide, grin that showed several missing teeth. "Nathan!"

"Hey, Soph," he said. He walked over to the bed with two long strides and carefully sat down, making sure not to jostle her too much. "How you doing?"

"The bandages are itchy. I want them off," Sophie complained.

"Not until the doctor says you can take them off. We've been over this. Three times."

"But they're itchy."

"I don't care," said Nathaniel. Sophie glared at him, her big blue eyes narrowing comically and her lips puckering out in a pout. He laughed and ruffled her blond curls. "Guess what I brought."

"What?" asked Sophie sullenly. Nathaniel glanced around to make sure no nurses were watching, and opened up his jacket to reveal a tiny kitten. Sophie shrieked like a banshee and gently picked up the small animal.

"Danny!" she squealed, overjoyed to see the kitten she had lovingly named 'Danny'.

"Shhh," Nathaniel said, putting a finger to his lips. "Someone will hear you! And I can't stay very long. I've got a lot of shopping to do for Sandor's birthday party."

"Ok." Sophie cradled the kitten in her bandaged hands, careful not to squeeze him too tightly. Nathaniel had brought the kitten for her after his twin sister Natasha's fat cat had given birth to six kittens that all looked exactly the same. He just hoped he'd grabbed the right one. Apparently, he had.

"Nathan?" asked Sophie. He glanced up to see her wide eyes staring at him with a strangely serious expression.

"Yes?" he said, somewhat nervously.

"Danny is prettier than you," she said matter-of-factly. He gaped at her for a moment.
"What makes you say that?" he asked, struggling to keep a straight face. Sophie never failed to make him smile with her innocent smile and little quips.

"He just is." She turned her head back to her sort-of pet, as if no other explanation was needed. Nathaniel heard a soft snort from the doorway, and turned around to see a young woman leaning against the entrance, a gleeful smirk on her face. He was about to greet her when Sophie spoke up.

"Hi, Lily!" the girl waved to the woman standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Sophie," said the woman's soft, melodic voice. "Who's your friend here?"

"This is Nathan. He's a firefighter and he brought me to the hospital. He acts like he's really cool and heroic and smart but really he's a total dork. He eats ketchup with his French fries!" Sophie looked completely mortified at the thought of that horrid substance going anywhere near such a delicious food.

"Yeah, that is kinda gross," said the woman. Her gaze fell upon the kitten in Sophie's lap and she shook her head a bit, then laughed. She approached the bed, holding out a calloused hand to Nathaniel. He stood up and grasped it gently. "Lily Mathew. I'm here for Sophie's therapy session," she said with a soft smile.

"Nathaniel Reeves. Do you need me to go?" He gestured towards the doorway.

"I don't mind if you're here. It's up to Sophie, though. Soph? Do you mind if Nathaniel here eavesdrops on us?" Lily asked, turning her gaze towards the impatient patient.

"No, it's ok," she said. "He has to go shopping anyway."

"That's fun," said Lily dryly. Her green eyes drifted to Nathaniel. "You're welcome to stay as long as you want. I'm just going to go over what happened with Sophie. Help her process the fire, what the future's going to look like."

"Do you think I should stay?" he asked, glancing at Sophie, who was still holding the kitten. There was a pause.

"Sophie might feel more comfortable talking to me if you're here. She only met me a couple days ago and doesn't know me very well. She seems to trust you, though."

"I'll stay," he said instantly. Lily grinned up at him, nodding her head subtly, signaling that he'd made the right choice.

And that was the story of how Nathaniel met Lily Mathew for the first time.


II.

Six days later, it happened.

Even now, Nathaniel wasn't exactly sure what prompted him to go out by the pool when he did. Maybe a sort of sixth sense he'd picked up over his years of being a firefighter. A nose for danger, you might call it. He always knew intuitively when something was wrong. It had saved his life (and others') more times than he could count.

Nathaniel's nephew Sandor's third birthday party had been raging (if you could call a Lego-Batman themed party raging) for two hours now. His younger sister Marina was out of the hospital after giving birth to a baby girl, Ella, and had decided to stop by for a few minutes. The minutes turned into hours because of her goofy husband Naveen, who greatly enjoyed building Legos with Sandor while Marina rolled her eyes in the background. His other brother-in-law, Stanley, consistently tried to get his older sister Marin to kiss his frosting-covered face, to which she flatly refused and Sandor giggled, while Nathaniel's twin sister Natasha made stupid faces at baby Ella to try to get her to laugh.

She failed. Epically. Nathaniel was never going to let her forget it. All in all, it was a bit chaotic in Marin and Stanley's spacious house.

"Uncle Nathan?" Sandor's high voice piped up. He glanced down.

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Can you play Legos with me?"

"Sure." Nathaniel plopped down cross-legged across from his nephew.

"You can be Batman," he said, placing the figurine in his hands. They sat there together for at least half an hour before Stanley called Nathaniel to lug his fat ass over here and help him move boxes from the garage to the family room. Which brought him to where he was now.

At some point, Sandor had wandered off amidst all the laughter and commotion. They'd been combing Marin and Stanley's massive house for almost ten minutes now with still no sign of him. Nathaniel was starting to get worried, even though his young nephew was probably just hiding.

Then he stepped onto the patio. He remember glancing at the clock. 5:47 p.m. He wasn't sure why that mattered or why he remembered that small detail out of everything else.

And his heart stopped.

Blood. There was blood on the side of the pool. Blood. Blood. Blood. Why was there blood? What the hell was going on?

Then he spotted the small figure laying at the bottom of the pool. Unmoving. Limp. Underwater.

Sheer panic gripped Nathaniel's chest. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. His muscles froze, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't force them to react, to do what he wanted them to do. He could only stand there as horror crept through his veins for several painfully long seconds.

Then his reflexes kicked in. He dove into the pool without hesitation, his speed carrying him like a bullet through the nine-foot deep water. The chlorine stung his eyes; he brushed it aside. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Except for Sandor. Where was Sandor? His eyes skimmed through the somewhat murky water before landing on the crumpled form of the three-year-old.

Nathaniel grasped the boy under his armpits and shot towards the surface, his heart pumping loudly, blood roaring in his ears. His head burst through the surface. He could feel air. Fresh air. He took a gulping breath and screamed for help. He lifted Sandor's unconscious body out of the water, keeping his head above the surface. A small trickle of blood bled from the boy's temple.

Natasha sprinted outside, Naveen close on her heels, and stopped dead at the sight of him swimming for the ledge. She shook herself and bolted forward, grabbing Sandor's shoulders and lifting him out of the water. "Sandor? Sandy? Someone call 911!" she screamed, frantically checking for a pulse. Nathaniel lifted himself out of the water and saw the clock out of the corner of his eye. 5:49 p.m.

Marina darted into the house before Natasha had even finished speaking. Nathaniel quickly knelt down beside Natasha. "He's - he's not breathing," she said, her brown eyes wide with fear and horror. He froze, all coherent thought fleeing him at the sight of the little boy that he had grown to love like he was his own son lying on the wet pavement.

Stanley crouched over the limp body of his son, the usually cheerful and somewhat idiotic personality gone at the sight of his own flesh and blood lying unmoving on the cold concrete. His eyes were shining with unshed tears as he began administering CPR, Natasha doing the best she could to help him.

At that moment, Marin came running out into the backyard, stopping short at the horrific scene in front of her. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, her whole body shuddering violently, and Nathaniel leapt to his feet before wrapping his arms around his younger sister. She whimpered and buried her face in her brother's chest. The pitiful sound from the usually strong and stoic martial-arts instructor cut right through his heart.

"The - the ambulance is on its way," said Marina, shakily making her way towards the group huddled beside the pool, where Naveen wrapped her in a tight embrace.

"He's breathing," announced Stanley, relief evident in his voice.

5:51 p.m.

"Nathaniel," he barked, his military training evident in his voice. "We need to - we need to get Sandor to the hospital. There's no time to wait for the ambulance. You drive."

Nathaniel nodded and sprinted inside to grab the keys before darting to his car as Stanley gently lifted his son and walked as quickly as he could, Marin close at his heels. Nathaniel pulled out of the driveway before Marin had even completely entered the car. He hit the gas pedal and the engine roared down the street. He paid no heed to the speed-limit and drove as fast as he could.

Nathaniel glanced over at the passenger seat where Stanley was holding Sandor in his arms. The little boy's mouth was open, his lips blue and cold. Every few minutes he would make a small wheezing noise and moan quietly, as if he was trying to wake from some horrible nightmare. Nathaniel heard muffled sobs coming from the backseat where Marin sat struggling to regain her composure, Stanley whispering to his little boy that he wasn't allowed to leave yet. His heart pumped loudly in his ears.

He navigated the winding streets robotically, having driven this exact route too many times to count. Before he knew it, Nathaniel was pulling up at the emergency entrance at the Coney Island Hospital, his tires screaming as he braked hard, the car half on the sidewalk and half in the road. Stanley was out of the car before Nathaniel had even come to a complete stop, sprinting into the hospital. Nathaniel heard him yelling for help as he entered the emergency room through the double glass doors.

Marin threw open the door and ran after her husband, but Nathaniel stayed where he was. He couldn't bring himself to go sit in the lobby just yet, worrying and wondering about whether or not he would be able to play Legos with Sandor ever again. He rested his head on the driving wheel and grasped it like a lifeline. He bit his bottom lip harshly, the pain grounding him for a few short moments.

Nathaniel was no stranger to death. Working as a firefighter for three years now had shown him horrors that he still woke up in a cold sweat from, as well as memories from his past. Things he wished with all of his being that he could erase, that he could take back, that he could fix, that he could change. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight of his innocent nephew lying dead on the concrete. Limp. Lifeless. Pale. Dead. Dead.

Nathaniel's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel like a vice as the image of Sandor's broken body flashed before his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if the motion could eradicate the horrifying picture that loomed each and every time he blinked.

Why hadn't he realized that Sandor was gone sooner? Why hadn't he seen that the door to the backyard was open? Why had he frozen like he did when he saw his nephew? Why hadn't he -

A light tapping on his window broke him from his reverie. He glanced up and saw a young woman standing outside of the passenger door. Before he could roll down his window, she'd opened up the car door and sidled into the seat beside him.

"Nathaniel, right?" she asked. "Please just say yes, because if you don't, it means that I just got into a car with a total stranger. You ok?"

"You - you're Sophie's therapist? Lily?" asked Nathaniel quietly, struggling to reign in the emotions that were warring within him.

"Don't do that." She glared at him with her piercing green eyes.

"Don't do what?" His brows furrowed in confusion.

"Don't change the subject. What's bothering you? You've been sitting in the car for more than half an hour now."

Had it really been that long?

"Yes, it has." Nathaniel realized that he must have spoken aloud. "I had to convince the security guards to leave you alone cause you're not technically blocking the doors. Bribed them with chocolate, so you owe me. What happened?"

"What makes you think something happened?"

"Really?" Lily rolled her eyes before settling down in her seat comfortably. Nathaniel sighed, trying to collect his thoughts. Lily remained quiet, staring at him, searching his face. They sat there in silence for several long moments.

"My - my nephew fell into the pool," began Nathaniel slowly. "He wasn't breathing."

Silence. Then, "You're the one who found him?"

He nodded.

"You do know it wasn't your fault, right?" she asked softly. He looked up to see her gazing at him imploringly. "There was nothing you could have done."

"I froze. I didn't react quickly enough," he said stiffly, not meeting her gaze. He heard her sigh.

"Nathaniel, how old is your nephew?"

"Today is his third birthday."

"All right. You saw a three year old's dead body, Nathaniel. That alone is enough to make anyone freeze. Coupled with the fact that it was your nephew and the fact that you probably love your family with all of your being, no one will blame you. And judging from the fact that you're sopping wet, you jumped into the pool to retrieve him. You saved his life," she whispered, putting one thin hand on his shoulder.

"I still didn't react quickly enough."

"How quick is quick enough? Three seconds? Half? You reacted, Nathaniel. That's all that matters. Where's your nephew now?"

"Stanley and Marin took him into the emergency room." He glanced up at her as he said this and really took in her appearance for the first time. Her eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, her blond hair falling out of its braid, her clothes rumpled and wrinkled. "Are you ok? Why are you here at the hospital?"

"Don't worry about me." She smiled tiredly. "Well, I'd better get going. And Nathaniel?"

"Yeah?"

"Your nephew's going to be fine."

"How do you know?"

"Cause I see a woman walking towards this car who looks very similar to you. She's smiling." Nathaniel craned his neck and saw that Marin was indeed coming towards him with a tired smile. "And another thing," Lily said. "Here's a piece of advice, Nathaniel: talk to your sister. Tell her what you're feeling. I guarantee that she'll tell you exactly what I just did. Life's too short to be carrying around crap like this. 'Kay?" She flashed him a broad smile, opened the door, and began walking away.

Then she was gone, just as quickly as she'd come.

Later, when Nathaniel visited Sandor in his hospital room, who was well on his way to a miraculous recovery, and held his small, pale hand, he remembered that Lily had never told him why she was at the hospital.

III.


It had been ten years to the day. Ten years since Nathaniel had failed. Ten years since his whole life had changed forever, and the grief, the pain, the gaping wound that had been inflicted upon his dysfunctional family, was still bleeding and just as fresh as ever.

Nathaniel quietly navigated the long sprawl of gravestones at Coney Island Cemetery, his feet automatically treading the path he had walked countless times before, a bouquet of red roses in his hands. He stopped before a small headstone imbedded in the ground.

"Hey, Mom," he whispered softly, crouching down. Nathaniel spotted a small, grey vase of now-dead flowers and carefully removed them, replacing it with his own. "Here I am. Again. It's me, Nathan." He felt a bit stupid for talking at a rock. If Natasha were here, she'd be cackling away like the Wicked Witch of the West, even though Nathaniel knew that was her way of showing she cared.

He searched for the right words to convey what he felt. The guilt, the horror, the shame at not being able to stop what had been done to the woman who gave birth to him. Nothing could change what happened.

The sky was blue. The grass was green. His mother was dead, and he hadn't been able to stop it. Those were facts, as plain and simple as that. They couldn't change, no matter how much Nathaniel wished they could.

He didn't know how long he sat there at the gravestone, thinking about what he could have done differently, what he should have done, what he would have done if he'd just been a little bit stronger. A little bit braver. It seemed that no matter how much Nathaniel talked about it, no matter how much people reassured him that it wasn't his fault, it always came back to bite him. The overwhelming guilt, the heavy burden of taking the self-inflicted blame for the actions of his father, had nearly driven him over the brink several times before.

But no matter how many times he tried, no matter how much he was able to convince himself that it was his fault, he could never do it. Could never take his own life. Could never leave Natasha with the same feelings that he carried around with him, could never inflict that kind of damage upon his twin sister. So he didn't. He survived, because that was all he could do. Because if he didn't, his sisters would take the punishment.

When he finally broke free from his little pity-party, Nathaniel spotted a familiar figure about a hundred yards from where he sat, crouched down in front of a small mound of freshly-turned earth. He rose from his seat in the grass, brushed off the dirt, and began making his way over to the young woman.

A small twig snapped under his feet, the sound like an explosion of noise in the previously quiet cemetery. Lily whirled around, her eyes scanning the graveyard as if she expected to be attacked before coming to rest upon Nathaniel.

"We seem to run into each other a lot," said Nathaniel softly, a wry grin lifting the corners of his lips.

"What can I say? You're stuck with me now," the blond counselor replied weakly. She quickly rubbed away the tear tracks on her cheeks and gave a half-hearted grin, brushing off the dirt on her white t-shirt and faded blue jeans

"Who'd you lose?" Nathaniel nodded to the grey stone she'd been crouched before moments ago.

"My father. Cancer." She glanced down with a sorrowful expression. "He fought hard for a couple months, but ... in all honesty he just didn't want to live anymore. He'd never been the same since my mom left him." She gave a sigh. "Sometimes I wonder why he didn't just leave me or put me in foster-care. He wasn't the best dad."

Nathaniel's eyes widened and grew cold as the implications of her words sank in. His muscles tensed unconsciously and he ground his teeth together in a futile attempt to dampen his response.

"Not like that!" Lily said quickly, noticing his change in demeanor. "He never - he never hit me. Or touched me. He just... wasn't there, you know? He never took me places, never asked me how my day was going. He was a father, but he wasn't a dad."

He relaxed marginally at her words, his whole body still a bit on edge. She peered up at him thoughtfully, her green eyes searching his face for something.

"What happened, Nathaniel?" she whispered. "Not everyone reacts to a statement like that like you just did. What - what happened?" Her piercing green eyes looked straight into his own brown ones, searching for something.

Several moments passed.

Nathaniel looked away, not able to hold her imploring, gentle, caring gaze for any longer. He searched the cemetery for something to stare at, looking anywhere but the exasperatingly deductive and observant young woman.

"Nothing happened," he choked out.

"I find that hard to believe," she said softly, her voice just barely reaching his ears. "Sit," she invited. She plopped herself down on the soft earth and crossed her legs Indian-style, seemingly completely relaxed and at ease with the current situation, quite unlike Nathaniel. After a moment's pause, he folded his legs and took a seat across from her. His hands found the bright green grass and began twisting and uprooting the sprouts from the earth. She waited patiently as he searched to find the right words. In the end, he decided that being blunt and to the point was the best option.

"My father used to beat me," he began quietly, almost reluctantly. "He drank. At first it was every month or so. He'd never hurt me bad, though. Always just a couple of bruises. Never anything more. He wouldn't hit my sisters, either. I always took the beating for them. They never found out and they didn't find out for years." The words were coming more quickly now. "Eventually he started beating me more regularly. Almost every day. I don't remember a time when I wasn't sore and bruised. Then he started hitting my mom." His hands grasped the grass tightly and he gave a harsh yank on a small weed. "I didn't find out for years. By the time I did, it was too late." His jaw clenched almost painfully and his eyes flashed with anger. "He hit her bad enough that she had to go to the hospital. She was able to pass off the bruises as falling down the stairs. When she came home, he ..." His voice trailed off, unable to speak the words.

"He hit you," Lily whispered. Her hand snaked out and grasped his gently. "He took his anger out on you."

"I still have the scars," he murmured quietly.

"What happened to your mother?"

"She committed suicide a week later," he replied dully, robotically, emotionlessly. "Cut herself. Bled to death in the bathtub. That was when a full investigation was launched. Eventually, I told the police everything. I showed them the scars. My father was put on trial and sentenced to fifteen years. He died five years in."

He gazed at the ground, unable to lift his eyes. He heard Lily give a shuddering breath and then felt her hand come up to touch his cheek.

"Nathaniel." Her thumb stroked his face in small circles. "What happened was not your fault. You..." Her voice broke and she looked away before regaining her composure and looking him straight in the eyes. "You did all you could. You protected your sisters. You saved them from lifelong scars."

"I couldn't save my mother."

"How old were you, Nathaniel?"

"Seventeen."}

"Seventeen. You weren't even allowed to vote yet. You couldn't have been expected to protect your whole family from someone you loved."

"I didn't love-"

"Yes, you did, Nathaniel. That's why your mother killed herself. Because she loved your father. And it's why you didn't fight back. Because you loved him."

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, finally looking up from the ground. "Why are you telling me these things? Why are you listening to me?" he snapped, the words came out more harshly than he'd intended.

"Because... because I know what it's like to hold things in. To not be able to speak about something because no one is willing to listen. I became a counselor so I could help people. That includes you, Nathaniel. And I refuse to allow someone like you to believe that when things go wrong that it's their fault."

"Someone like me?"

"A hero," she said simply.

"I'm not a hero."

"Yes, you are. How many people have you rescued while working as a firefighter? How many times have you gone into a burning building to rescue a small child without a second thought? How many times have you prevented a fire from destroying a family's home with no regards to your own safety? Think of Sophie, Nathaniel. She's alive because of you. You're the reason that people are still alive. If that doesn't constitute a hero, then I don't know what does." Her voice was firm and uncompromising, ringing with belief and the kind of gentleness that only someone who knew what he was thinking could possess.

"Thank you." His voice shook and he grasped her hand in his own. Lily leaned over and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. Nathaniel buried his face in her blond hair, allowing himself just this one minute of nakedness, of vulnerability, of peace. Lily's slim fingers combed through the ends of his long black hair comfortingly, allowing him to forget for a few moments about everything.

Nathaniel didn't know how long he sat there, but after several minutes, he lifted his head and gave Lily a weak smile. She grinned back at him, her eyes shining with affection, happiness, and peace.

"Feel better?" she asked gently.

"Much," he said, clearing his throat, feeling a bit embarrassed now that their little moment was over and done with.

"Good." She looked at him seriously. "Nathaniel, I want you to promise me something. Promise me that you'll tell your sisters how you feel. If not all of them, at least one. Let them know what you're wrestling with. They can help you much more than I ever can. That's what families are for."

"I will," Nathaniel promised. She nodded in acceptance and satisfaction.

"Excluding your father of course. He was an asshole."

He gave a short laugh and watched as her green eyes lit up mischievously as she gazed at him and a look he could only describe as devious came across her gentle features.

"What?" he asked, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

"You're blushing," she sing-songed.

"No, I'm not." Nathaniel could feel heat crawling up his neck and into his face, completely contradicting his half-hearted denial.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Shut up, Mathews."

"I'll shut up if you admit it."

"Not going to happen."

"Then I'm going to keep on talking."

And in that moment, as he looked at her bright green eyes, slightly watery from tears of compassion, pinned with a smile that could light up the whole world, with her now tangled blond hair, Nathaniel Reeves realized just how beautiful Lily Mathews really was.


IV.


He hated hospitals. He knew the hallways by heart; he could greet some of the nurses and doctors by name. It reeked of sorrow and death and hopelessness and he hated it.

But it seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he always ended up back here. Whether it was because his fellow firefighters had been injured in the line of duty, or whether he was the one injured, he always came back. This time it was because of Sandor; his young nephew who Nathaniel frankly couldn't believe was still alive.

After his mini breakdown in his car several days prior, he'd gone through those dreaded double doors and marched straight to the front desk, demanding to know where his sister's son was. He'd been directed to a small room at the end of the hallway, where Marin was sitting beside Sandor's bed, her eyes red-rimmed and exhausted.

Nathaniel didn't think that he'd ever be able to forget the image of the little boy lying on the bed, pale and lifeless, the monotonous beeping of the machine next to him the only sign that he was still alive.

Since then, however, Sandor's health had grown by leaps and bounds. Just three days after the accident, he was already rampaging through the halls and building Legos once more while Marin frantically tried to shush his animated antics. The memory brought a smile to Nathaniel's face.

He'd just exited Sophie's room, where the little girl was healing remarkably well. She was expected to be able to leave the hospital by the end of the week, and there was a foster family waiting for her eagerly. He'd made sure of that.

He waited patiently outside of the elevator after pressing the small black button. He glanced around, gazing at the nurses and doctors walking to and fro. A small ding brought his attention to the elevator. Nathaniel leaned aside to allow an elderly woman in a wheelchair past him, and stepped into the elevator. He pressed the button for the ground floor. Just before the elevator doors closed, a small, thin hand snaked its way in between them. They slid open once more and Lily stepped through.

Nathaniel's breath caught in his throat. Her usual vibrant, glossy, and beautiful blond hair hung limp and lifeless just above her shoulders, cut short since the last time he'd seen her. Her face was worn and haggard, dark circles rimming her eyelids. Her whole frame seemed to sag from exhaustion, as if she could barely keep herself upright. Her too thin arm reached out and pressed the button for the fifth floor.

And her eyes. The stunning emerald green orbs gazed at the floor without seeing anything, dulled down to a muted color. The spark, the light, the happiness had fled, revealing the look of one without hope. Without faith. Without life. The eyes of one who knew what was coming and had already accepted it.

"Lily?" he whispered, his voice catching in his throat. She lifted her head and gazed at him, as if seeing him for the first time. She attempted a weak smile, but it fell short. He searched her dull eyes for any sign of life, of that infectious joy, the overflowing compassion, the laughter and happiness that had inhabited them earlier that week.

But it was gone.

"Hey, Nathaniel," she croaked out. Her melodic voice was now dry and raspy. "Did - " Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. "Did you do what I asked? Did you talk to your family?"

He nodded mutely, still trying to make some sense of the sight before him.

"Goo - good," she said, swallowing hard. Her arms hugged her stomach, her face contorting into a grimace at some unseen pain, and he caught a glimpse of her ribs through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. How had he never noticed this before?

As the elevator rose, he struggled to find the right words. What could he say? What could possible make up for the injustice of this? The unfairness? What could make up for the peace and hope that Lily brought into his life that had been missing for so many years?

In the end, he decided that no words needed to be said. She knew already. He could tell in the way her eyes smiled sadly at him even though her lips could not. No more words needed to be said.

The elevator stopped. The doors opened. Lily Mathews stepped over the door frame and into the hallway of the oncology ward. "Goodbye, Nathaniel," she said quietly, refusing to meet his eyes.

She slowly shuffled away. Nathaniel knew that he would never see her again.

As the elevator doors closed on the sight of the young woman he might have grown to love, he allowed himself to cry for the first time in years. His shoulders shook with silent sobs and tears trickled down his cheeks. His heart was heavy with sorrow, for Lily had lied to him.

But it was the most beautiful lie he'd ever heard.