Lars woke to see nothing.

The world he now found himself in was dark, but it was warm and it felt strangely safe, and familiar.

"Hello?", he called out, "Anyone out here?"

He didn't even wait for an answer. He began walking aimlessly, but without uncertainty. If anything, his legs seemed to be working on their own without struggle, walking forward with confidence, not fumbling like he might do so in the middle of the night to find the bathroom or something similar.

After a considerable, but unmeasurable distance of walking, Lars could then feel something press into the palm of his hand. Curiously, he rubbed it with his thumb, and felt the silky smooth texture he associated with flower petals. And for some reason, without even seeing it, he just knew it was pink.

Another rested in his hand, and then one landed on the back of his other hand, falling off. When Lars took a step forward, he could feel them under his feet.

For some reason, he didn't even question it. He just stood there while he felt flowers snowing on top of him.

He could feel himself growing sleepy, and as he became lightheaded, he could hear a muffled sound ring in his ears.

It sounded like a woman humming a lullaby. And it sounded wonderful.

"Do I know you?", Lars yawned, his question being answered with a jarring screech.

Jolting forward, Lars groaned and slammed the button on his alarm clock, grumbling as he saw it was time to get up for work.

That's the fifth time I've had that goddamned dream.

Stretching his back, and scratching furiously at his scalp, Lars swung his feet over the side of the bed, and stood up. Immediately, he felt off balance, and stumbled forward, and he impulsively grabbed the shelve above his bed, locking his knees into place. Startled, Lars could feel his breath shortened, and drew in a long deep breath.

"Woah," he whispered to himself, slowly steadying himself into standing upright, feeling flushed and anxious. Taking a few breaths, he looked in the mirror, wondering what that was all about.

Maybe he was just tired.

Shaking off the feeling of dread as best he could, he got himself ready for the day, forced down a small amount of food for breakfast, in spite of his nausea (he passed it off as nervousness), and headed out the door.

Still, he couldn't rid himself of the thought in his head that all these symptoms were too familiar, to relative, and that it all would lead to something unfortunate.

The slow walk to work in the fresh morning air made Lars feel a little more alert, and more willing to pass his symptoms off as exhaustion. He approached the Big Donut roughly ten minutes after it's usual opening time, and was greeted with a roll of the eyes by Sadie, who casually chided him for being late again.

"Slept in again?"

"Yeah," Lars lied, not wanting to mention how ill he'd felt waking up, "Sorry," he faked a yawn, stepping behind the counter, keen on resting in his well used chair, "Want me to cover you for 'Canine Court' today?"

"Yes please!", she grinned, "Today's the mid-season finale! They're about to wrap up that case with the doberman!"

"Oh yeah, that one. That one's a fucked up case," Lars whispered eerily.

"I know," Sadie whispered back, staring into space with the same shaken tone.

Eventually, the two were cleaning up after the lunch rush, and Lars took to his usual tasks of sweeping and mopping.

In the middle of hauling out the mop bucket to the middle of the floor, it happened again. Lars could feel his breath escape him, and that sense of dread filled him.

Taking a deep breath, trying to repress the oncoming nausea, he gripped the mop handle tightly, and opted to keep going.

Sadie had said something, and Lars struggled to come up with an answer as his chest felt like it was unable to decide on fluttering or pounding, leaving him knocked speechless.

Hunching slightly, Lars asked Sadie to repeat what she had said, and slowly placed the mop back in the bucket, his hand shaking too much to continue, and he began to back against the drink cooler, to lean against something. He started seeing bright flecks floating around, like flower petals, disorienting him.

The mop fell over, and Lars winced as he heard the noise it made, then the exasperated sigh Sadie made as she repeated what she said, something about new coffee filters, and then she frowned as she looked at the mess in the middle of the floor, "You're going to clean that, right?"

"Y-yeah," Lars assured, giving a thumbs up, feeling like he was going to puke.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Perfect," Lars answered flatly.

And then he woke up on the floor.

Sadie looked close to tears as she was knelt over him, her voice so choked he could hardly understand what she was saying.

Lars felt strangely awake as he lay on the floor, "Sadie? What happened?"

"Oh gosh, Lars! I was so scared!", she cried, "You just fainted on the floor, I thought you were joking with me, but then you didn't wake up, and I panicked!"

"O-Oh," Lars mumbled, swallowing hard, and gave an awkward laugh, "Must have slipped," and tried to sit up. Immediately feeling lightheaded, he lay back down.

"Welp. I don't think I can get up," he admitted, trying not to sound too anxious. He was already starting to guess, with dread, what was wrong with him. It was all too familiar to him.

"I-I'm calling an ambulance!", Sadie immediately declared, trying not to sob.

"Nah, don't do that!", Lars groaned, "Just get my mom to drive me, OK, ambulances cost a fuckworth."

"But you-"

"Call. My. Mom," he repeated, clenching his jaw, and shut his eyes, trying to stave off the sudden painful beat in his chest.

"O-Ok," Sadie mumbled, then rubbed at her eyes, "Oh Lars, I-"

"It's OK, Sadie," Lars gave a small grin, "It's not the first time I've fallen asleep on the job."

The joke didn't cheer Sadie up, it just made her look ready to cry even more. Lars then tried to tease that the floor was more comfortable than his bed at home, and that made her blink away tears.

Realizing joking with her wasn't going to fix this, Lars' tone grew sincere, "Sadie. I'm alright. It's going to be OK. Sade- hey- look at me Sade."

He grabbed her closest hand gently, rubbing it with his thumb, "I'm gonna be fine. I think I know what's wrong. Just call my mom, OK? She can take me to the doctor, and I can get some medicine OK?"

"Wh-what is it?"

"I had fainting spells as a kid, they'd make me super tired, so they just gave me medicine for it," he lied, "Once I'm on drugs, I'm good. "

Sadie hurried behind the counter to dial the number, and Lars fixated his gaze on the ceiling, hoping that this wouldn't be the last time he'd ever be in this store again.

His mother cried softly as she held him in the hospital bed, not wanting to leave him, even just for the night. He'd never been left alone like this before, she'd said. His father insisted Lars was a strong spirit for a five year old, that he'd do fin, that the nurses would be looking after him. After all, this was soon going to be the norm for their little boy. At least for a while. The man's tone would get more fretful and worried as he phoned up relatives overseas, speaking in Mandarin tensely, and too fast for Lars to pick up.

"You're going to be brave and good for us, aren't you?", they had asked.

"Yes mama, yes daddy, " he'd said, still not fully understanding his situation. He was tired and dizzy and he wanted an ice pop for his dry throat.

When both his parents left the room, he called out for them when the light turned out, wanting one last goodnight kiss. When they didn't come back in, like they always would at home, Lars got worried and began to cry. When neither of them came to comfort him, he just cried harder,which prompted a nurse to come in and try to soothe him. He continued to bawl, not wanting this stranger's comfort, and he just settled on crying until he couldn't anymore and his chest began to hurt again.

He missed his mother, he missed his father, and he missed his bed.

After several minutes of sobbing in the dark, the child saw something float through his window, and slowly cascade onto his bed. With wide wet eyes, he picked up a pink flower, larger than his entire hand. It reminded him of the flowers in his mother's garden, and he smelled it. Slowly, the painful beat in his chest descended back into a calm rhythm.

"Mama", he mumbled, nuzzling his face into the flower, and setting it on his pillow, falling asleep with it near his cheek.

When he woke up, another flower or two had landed by his knee, and the sun left a rose gold ray shining through the recently closed blinds.

He really hoped it wasn't as bad as he was fearing. Best case scenario, this was all in his head, second best, he just needed medication and rest. Worst, everything he suffered before was coming back, full throttle.

The solemn look on the doctor's face, and his mother's distraught expression as they both walked in from the hallway filled him with dreaded realization it was probably the latter.

"I already know what you're going to say," he mumbled, staring at his mother, who looked down, trying to keep herself together.

Clearing their throat, the doctor sighed, "We're not 100% certain just yet, but...it does appear your previous conditions are returning."

"Shit," Lars muttered under his breath.

"This is usually something that happens for patients post-transplant-"

"I never had a transplant though, I just got better all of a sudden," Lars cut in, gripping onto his hospital gown tensely.

"I know. And that's the most curious part of all this," the doctor leafed through her patient's medical history, "And you still don't know what caused that-"

"No," Lars spoke quickly. There was no chance in hell he was going to tell them what happened the first time. They'd never believe him.

"Well," the doctor sighed, "We need some answers somehow. We'll keep you here for observation, and treatment, and run more diagnostics. Then perhaps we can discuss procedures and treatments."

"Right," Lars' voice was dying in his throat, seeing the heartbreak on his mothers' face. This was going to cost their family a lot. Both in money, and in emotional stress. How was she going to break this to Lars' father?

Lars tried to give a hopeful grin to his mother as she anxiously kept fiddling with her glasses, "Don't worry, ma. It'll be ok."

He hoped he wasn't lying.

When Sadie had come to visit later that evening, Lars tried to be as lively as he could. To pretend this was nothing.

Sadie was preoccupied with staring at his fidgeting, shaking hands.

"Anyway, Sadie, you think you could drop some donuts off to me for breakfast tomorrow?", he wanted to divert her attention.

"It's not just fainting spells, is it," Sadie spoke blankly, looking up at him, "You wouldn't be in here just for that."

"I-"

"...please tell me what's wrong," Sadie mumbled.

Lars sighed, rubbing his head, deciding he'd have to give Sadie the truth, even if it hurt.

"Ok, I don't ever really tell anyone this, but uh...I was born with a lot of heart problems...like...really serious ones. I ended up going into cardiac arrest when I was like three or four, and it happened twice. The first time, the doctors thought it was a close brush with SIDS or something but uh-"

Sadie was already starting to tear up, and Lars groaned, "Shit, ok, but I ended up fine- and...well...I spent a lot of time in the hospital getting operations and treatments and stuff, because I was so sick. But then I just got better out of nowhere, and all my symptoms were gone, and I could do all the shit I couldn't do before."

"But you're in here again."

"I know," Lars mumbled, then sighed, "Maybe with dumb luck I'll get better again, and not end up with a heartbeat more irregular than my grandpa's bowels."

Sadie didn't laugh at the joke, just weakly smiling, "Yeah...maybe...", then frowned again, "Did you have to take medicine or anything, even after you got out of the hospital?"

"For a few months, yeah. I still have emergency pills I keep at home in case I get palpitations or whatever but...I haven't needed it in years."

There was no response for a while, until Sadie finally spoke up, "You didn't have that medicine with you on the island, did you."

"...uhh...no? Like I said, it's just emergency-"

"I kept you away from your house for a whole week, without your medicine-", Sadie mumbled, planting her face in her hands, "Oh god, I'm such a-"

"Hey, woah," Lars cut in, "No, Sade, that doesn't have anything to do with this, OK? Even if I did have that medicine with me, it wouldn't have done me any good if I keeled over and-"

Sadie began to bawl, and Lars realized he was going the wrong route of reassuring her. He rubbed at his jaw, trying to rethink his words, so as to alleviate the guilt that loomed over her.

"Sades, c'mon don't-", he began, then sighed, his voice going softer, as he reached a hand out to pet her hair, "Sadie. It's not your fault, OK? You didn't even know about this," he soothed, pulling his hand back, "It's all good, I wouldn't have died on that island anyway, especially if you could kick ass the way you did. If I did pass out or something, you would have hauled ass to get us back to that teleporter thing to get me to the hospital, without doubt," he then shrugged, trying to make light of the situation, "Or Steven would have used bellybutton magic to get an AED and fry me like Frankenstein. I was fine back then."

Sadie wiped away tears, "I know- I just...I'm really scared for you."

"Don't be," Lars smiled reassuringly as he could.

I'm already as terrified as I could possibly be.

As much as his strength allowed, Lars would climb out of his hospital bed, and use a step stool to peer over the sill, and look to see if there was any garden, or tree that was sending him the pink flowers through the window like the last three nights in a row. He'd take a short moment to peer around, and after seeing nothing yet again, he'd get discouraged, and crawl back into bed, waiting to get scolded by the nurse for unplugging the IV in his arm again.

He'd try and look again hours later, but still, no luck. In his five year old brain, he was growing impatient to see something magically appear to reveal the source of the slowly growing pile of flowers on his bedside table.

The kind daytime nurse was all too happy to put them in water for him, though the night nurse was usually disapproving about how Lars always wanted the window open. Lars thought it was silly that she warned him about catching a cold that way. He was sick enough, how much more sick could he get from a window open?

His treatments weren't doing him much good anyway. The needles hurt, not nearly as much as the irregular pounding in his chest, but he could do without them. He didn't like how he couldn't even stand up for over a minute without his knees wobbling, and making it hard to walk. He hated how the other nurses would crouch when he did that, like they were ready to coo 'come to mommy' and catch him. He wasn't a baby!

Even when he felt the worst, he still got a little comfort out of the pretty pink flowers that were bound to start decorating his room.

After a week and a half of staying in the hospital, Lars was still not going to give up his curiosity, even if he was predicting the same disappointment.

What he didn't expect was to see a glowing pink shape standing over the lake that was overlooked by his hospital window.

Squinting, the little boy realized it was a woman, with pink hair, and a white dress, and he slowly drew in a breath of wonder. Just from his hospital window, he already kind of liked her.

He saw her approach the lake, stopping right at the water which was often gross and green with algae, and paused. Lars watched with curiosity as she then knelt down, scooping up a handful of the green gunk. Lars wrinkled his nose, thinking about how gross and slimy it probably was in her hand like that, but before he could even vocalize his disgust, the green suddenly disappeared, and was replaced with a bright pink glow. As the glow disappeared, Lars could see a flower floating on the breeze, up towards the hospital, and landing on an adjacent window.

Lars' eyes grew wide in awe as he stared at the sill, then looked up to shout out to the woman, "Hey! Are you growing those flowers?!"

But she was gone.

Ever so optimistic and chipper, Steven scurried down the hall to Lars' room, carrying a box of doughnuts he bought first thing that morning before riding Lion over to the hospital. He figured Lars would appreciate a fresh doughnut in the morning, they were better than any of that gross hospital food that Connie let Steven sample one time while they visited her mom.

Speaking of Dr. Maheswaran, she was just stepping out of Lars' room when Steven approached it, and the boy beamed with a grin, "Hi Connie's mom!"

"Oh uh...hello, Steven...," the doctor looked down at the boy, a little surprised to see him, "Er...are you looking for Connie or something?"

"No, m'am, here to visit a friend! He lives in there," Steven pointed to the door, smiling, "What were you doing in there?"

"Ah...checking in," Dr. Maheswaran summarized, tucking Lars' medical chart under her arm.

"And how is my dear Lars doing?", Steven grinned.

"Very worn out," Dr. Maheswaran answered with a sigh, and when Steven gave a worried look, she tried to sound hopeful, "He'll be feeling better after a little rest," then gave a decisive nod as she spoke again, "Be careful not to wake any other patients," and walked down the hall.

Steven bit his lip, and poked his head in. Lars was flipping through some old surfing magazine, not looking too bothered with anything. If he weren't so pale and weary looking, Steven would have teased him why he wasn't back at work. Instead, he slowly approached, and piped up, "What's up, boss?"

Looking up from the magazine, Lars gave a blank look, "Oh. Hi."

"Anything interesting in that magazine?"

Lars blinked, still looking pretty dismissive, and glanced at the page, quoting, " '10 RADICAL Ways to Wax Your Board for the Summer Waves'. "

"Anything to pick from it?"

"Nah," Lars muttered, "I don't really see myself getting on a board again any time soon."

Pulling up a chair, Steven placed the box of doughnuts on the bedside table, "I brought you some breakfast."

"Oh," Lars mumbled, holding back a pang of nausea, thinking of the sickeningly sweet donuts, "Thanks, but uh, I'm good with my bag here," he mumbled, pointing to the IV connected to his arm. He'd lost any appetite for eating much a few hours ago.

"Oh," Steven sighed, "Ok, maybe later then," and plopped in the chair, "Feeling any better?"

"Not really," Lars muttered, "Nurses keep rushing in with stuff to hook up to me every time my pulse goes too fast or too slow. And my feet are so swollen I can hardly walk to the bathroom without them feeling like the aftermath of an 8 hour shift."

"That doesn't sound fun," Steven sighed, resting his hand against his mouth, subtly licking his palm.

Lars is very lucky to have me as a friend, he thought to himself as he then smiled, "I'm sure you'll feel better soon," and reached his hand in for his signature high five, firmly pressing Lars' chest to work in his healing magic.

The touch itself was enough to make Lars wince, and he groaned, "Steven, now's really not the time for you to be touching my chest-", he drew in a breath, feeling an ache.

"O-Oh, I'm sorry!", Steven apologized, fussing over Lars, trying to ease his discomfort while still paying attention to Lars' heart monitor, and Lars himself, waiting to see a positive change.

After ten minutes, nothing had changed, Lars was still ill, and Steven was confused, wondering why Lars hadn't been healed by his powers. He'd been sure to skillfully massage that spit right over his heart, even making sure it wasn't mixed with any backwash from breakfast. And it still didn't work.

Maybe it'll take longer than something like a broken leg, maybe it will take days. But what if that's too long for Lars?

"Hey, you aight?", Lars piped up, having looked up from his magazine to see the color drained from Steven's face.

"I'm alright," Steven nodded, and then mumbled that he had to get back to the temple before the Gems left him behind for the day.

He took one last glance at Lars before he left, and desperately hoped that nothing got worse before he returned that next morning.

The next several days ended up being a blur of hard-to-swallow pills, needles, uncomfortable examinations, and doctors coming in and out. On a few occasions, Lars would be given a mask attached to a funny tube to put over his mouth and nose, and then suddenly wake up back in his room feeling more tired and sick than usual. The last time this happened, he woke up to see his mother crying, and rushing to cradle him while a doctor stood nearby, looking worried.

The flowers had either stopped for the last several days, or Lars had just been too exhausted to even notice when and if they came in through the window. The ones he'd collected were still fresh and fragrant, not having dried up in the slightest.

Lars had woken up from one of his deeper sleeps, feeling disoriented and numb all over, seeing the bright lights and masked, unidentifiable faces, and a weird pull in his chest, and he remembered asking where his flowers were, where his room went. The mask had gotten placed over his face again, and before he knew it, he was back to sleep again. When he had woken, a newly stitched scar ran down his chest, and without much thought or reasoning, he began to cry.

After that, there was at least three more days of constant sleep, and then finally, Lars felt like his legs needed to stretch. Against the day nurse's warning, he climbed out of bed, slowly and cautiously, and shuffled over to the window, standing on his tip toes on the stool to look out.

The pink woman was there, by the lake shore again.

Lars tried to call out, but his voice was too strained. He wouldn't be able to get her attention from his window, he knew that much, and he didn't want to risk her going away and never coming back before he could meet her.

Heights were not a fear that he possessed. He could do this.

As best as his five-year-old legs could work, he managed to lift himself onto the window sill, and sit on the edge. Looking down, he saw a balcony and fire escape a few feet away from his window.

Taking in a labored breath, Lars lowered himself off of the sill, and planted his feet onto the considerable ledge below it. Planting his hands flat on the wall, Lars began to sidestep his feet towards the balcony, scooting his bare feet along the ledge. So far so good.

He turned his head to see if the pink woman was still there, near the lakeshore, and to his sudden surprise and dismay, she wasn't in his sights.

About halfway through, it happened again. The pain in his chest, the dizziness, the weakness in his limbs. The anxiety of impending disaster only made it worse.

Suddenly, it was almost like his body forgot it was scaling a hospital wall 40 feet above the ground, and thought it was in bed, crumpling backwards.

Lars screamed in terror as he fell, screwing his eyes shut as he awaited to be burst open on the pavement.

But it never came.

Instead of the hard ground, he was enveloped with a warm soft heaviness that was pressing him in close. The mix of terror from falling, and the relief that he wasn't hurt, it was a poor combination, and Lars barely had time to open his eyes and see who or what saved him before he fell asleep again.

Each time Steven had returned, Lars was no better, but no worse, a plateau that would have to be accepted for now. Lars spent most of his time sleeping, and when he was awake, would either be given some sort of physical exercise, a meal, or a wheelchair, so he could at least get himself moving without the fear of collapsing.

Steven would sometimes bring magazines, or random trinkets to keep Lars entertained while he was awaiting treatments, and while he would reject them initially, Lars soon found he was losing the will to do anything but accept the gifts. Besides, being in a hospital was gloomy enough, seeing Steven look dejected wasn't much of an improvement.

On a few occasions when Steven visited, and they were there, Lars' mother and father were quite diligent in their bedside manner, doting on their son with worried looks. Steven always felt prompted to try and cheer them up, but knew that until their son was well, there wouldn't be much use to that.

Sometimes, Steven would just talk, and Lars would say nothing, just listening to it nonchalantly. Random one sided conversations about most anything, from cartoons, to video games, even to outer space adventures. Lars would pretend not to be interested, but in all honesty, it did keep him a slight bit more entertained than anything else the hospital offered. On one occasion, Steven even had brought his ukulele, and sang to him. Lars still felt a little bad for falling asleep halfway through it, but it was all Steven's fault anyway for settling on such a soothing, lulling song towards the half-part.

Lars wouldn't ever answer Steven for questions regarding his treatments. He didn't need to know about all his operations, procedures, and medicines that he had to go through, things so personal that Lars knew it wouldn't be fair to make Steven have to bear the stress they caused.

Sadie, on the other hand, was more determined to know how her friend was doing, and would insist on knowing his condition, and what procedure he'd have to go through next. In those cases, Lars would try to downplay everything as much as he could, to ease her worry.

Lars was a little annoyed though. Steven must have heard through Sadie that he was due for another larger operation that weekend, because the boy never left until he was forced to. And he was even more doting than Sadie, his parents, and the doctors and nurses combined. It was a pain in the ass.

"Steven," Lars had spoken up with a tired grumble, "It's almost 10 PM. Go home and go to bed."

"What time is your surgery tomorrow?"

"Noon, so I gotta get sleep, alright?", he huffed, feeling more irritated by the worry in the younger boy's eyes, "I'll be fine."

"Wait, let me try one thing-" Steven suddenly piped up, and gave a determined look to the palm of his hand. Lars raised an eyebrow, then seeing Steven lick his hand.

"Steven, what are you-"

Steven promptly slapped his slobbery wet hand on Lars' chest again, staring him down.

Lars yelped, "Steven! That's disgusting! What the hell?!"

"Shh-", Steven whispered, "Just stay calm a minute...I want to see if you feel any better."

Lars glared, "What the-why'd you do that?"

"Magic," Steven whispered again with sparkly eyes, waiting for the change, hoping that the focus he'd put into this one would cause it to work.

After two minutes of staring down Lars' chest, and the monitors, nothing had improved, and Steven's stomach twisted again.

"Well, thanks for that gross-out of the night," Lars muttered, "Now if you'll excuse me-"

"I don't know why it's not working," Steven mumbled, "I tried it again..."

"Wait, what?"

"I tried to heal you with my powers!"

"What powers?"

"Healing powers! Healing spit!", Steven almost wailed, "And you're still sick!"

"Yecch! How the heck'd you ever get healing powers?", Lars hissed, finding the spit factor gross.

"I inherited them from my mom...", Steven mumbled, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand, "At first I thought it was tears, like her...but it turned out to be spit-"

Lars' fingers twitched, and he felt a sudden lurch in his stomach, and suddenly everything almost felt tinted with pink, and there was a tickle in his chest that felt nowhere near as awful as the daily symptoms he'd endured.

"Steven?", he spoke up, voice caught in his throat, "What did your mom look like?"

Waking up, Lars was once again surprised not to be feeling the hard broken ground he should have smashed on, but what reminded him of the arms of his own mother, but bigger.

Focusing his gaze above him, he caught his eyes onto who was probably one of the most beautiful people Lars had ever seen, like a fairy queen from one of his stories he'd get read to at home. The way she smiled down on him, it felt comforting. Her pink face and hair were like the cotton candy he'd enjoyed at the carnival months before, right before he'd gotten sick. The happy memories. The happy faces.

But just from how big she was, and how small he was, he was already starting to feel a little antsy, and squirmed and whimpered, undecided on whether he should leap free and run back inside the hospital, or just lay there and bawl.

Right before he could muster out a cry, the other person smiled and whispered soothingly, "Shhh. It's alright now. You're safe."

Like she'd just cast a magic spell, somehow, Lars' entire body seemed to relax, and he began to snuggle against her body, finding it more warm and comfortable than his own bed in the hospital.

"Why were you climbing at such a dangerous height, little one?"

Suddenly overcome with shyness, Lars meekly piped up, "...I wanted to see more flowers."

The giant pink woman blinked with confusion a moment, then glanced down to a flower that had fallen from the window in the chaos, "These flowers? My moss flowers?"

"It's so pretty," the boy whispered with wide innocent eyes, reaching for it.

Gently handing it to him, watching him happily press it against his cheek, she gave another smile, "You must really like them."

"Mhm," the boy murmured, "They come through the window at night, and when my mama comes in the morning, she puts them in water since they get so thirsty."

Giving a warm smile, the woman gently touched the boy's nose with her finger tip with affection, and then gave a small frown, "Why are you in the hospital? You don't look hurt."

He spoke with a soft, hushed voice, looking much calmer as she rocked him, "I got born with lots of holes in my heart, and it's all broken."

Giving a worried look the woman spoke, "Broken? Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes," Lars spoke, chewing on his knuckle contently, "Sometimes I just get sleepy and then I can't walk."

The woman then took notice of the boy's scar under his hospital gown, how large it was, and how it was struggling to keep the pieces of a broken heart together. The night air, while warm, was still making his body shiver, and for his eyes to blink heavily.

Her own heart was close to breaking at realizing how very sick this little boy was. He didn't have much time in this world, she sensed.

"You poor little thing," she whispered, her eyes suddenly filling with tears, and lifted the boy up closer to her own chest, holding him closer, but careful not to squish him.

Giving a small sob, two fat tear drops fell off her cheeks, and onto Lars' collarbone, sliding under the gown, and over his chest.

Lars gave a sleepy noise of surprise, and mumbled that it tickled, settling further into the woman's arms, "Why are you crying? Are you sad?"

Blinking away more tears, she wiped her eyes, and whispered, "I'm alright. And you will be too. I promise," she whispered, rocking him gently, "You are going to grow up so strong and beautiful, as you were meant to be. You'll be healthy."

"Ok," Lars murmured, not paying much attention to her words in the moment, "You're the prettiest and nicest person I've ever met...other than my mama."

Giving a soft chuckle, the woman smiled, and kissed his forehead, "I'm glad to hear that...", and began to move back towards the hospital, "Sleep little one, when you wake up in the morning, I'm sure you'll be able to tell her that."

Giving a yawn, Lars' heavy eyelids closed, and before he drifted off, he could feel himself get settled back into bed, the faint murmuring sound of singing floating distantly in his ear.

Something had gone wrong.

Steven had heard it through words Lars' mother had wept into her hands worriedly as her husband comforted her outside of their son's room as he lay in the recovery room after his recent operation.

Something about an artery and unexpected hemorrhaging.

A mention of an AED.

Cardiac arrest.

Resuscitation.

Their son was still alive, but the look on Dr. Maheswaran's face read as grim.

"At this rate, he'll need a transplant...but even for that, he might be too weak for the surgery. Until then, all we can provide is relief for pain."

And then after a pause, she had gently suggested the next step be hospice care.

Steven felt his heart and stomach rip as he sensed the horror and heartbreak of his friend's parents, wincing at the mother's horrified sob, and ducked into the room.

Lars was awake, surprisingly, but he looked even worse than before. Another tube and bag was attached close to his chest, a small collection of blood contained inside. Another attached to his nose, to help him breathe.

Steven didn't know if it was the hospital lighting, or what, but Lars was paler than he'd ever seen him, looking exhausted.

"Go tell my mom I'm fine," Lars suddenly whispered harshly, his hands slowly moving to shuffle along the mattress to attempt to sit his body up. He gave a small groan as he sat up only slightly, " I can hear her crying. Just tell her I'm OK. I feel better than when the doc was examining me."

Steven gave a worried look, and mumbled, "They're talking about moving you to...somewhere else-"

"Hospice care. I know," Lars gave a tired roll of the eyes, then dryly added, "On the bright side, I get better food and a better bed. I'm talkin' memory foam."

"Y-You're really going to give up?"

"It's not like I have a choice," Lars hissed, still reluctant to talk above a whisper, "My days are numbered, this hunk of crap and chunks of rotten stitched pig meat they call a heart is ready to call it quits. Sure I could go through more surgeries, but what's that gonna do? Let me linger in this gross room, get annoying bedsores, and die choking on my own puke? No thanks."

"B-But my mom healed you. You're supposed to be fine," Steven suddenly sobbed, remembering the story Lars had told him earlier. If his mother's powers had faulted on him, then would they do the same for everyone else?

"Steven," Lars coughed out harshly, "Just let it go, OK? Let me go."

"But I can save you!", the boy cried out, shaking, "Please let me try again!"

Lars was about to say something else, then suddenly arched over, giving a silent gasp of pain, shivering slightly. He gave a small noise, and then a struggled gasp, like he was trying to find air.

"Lars!", Steven sobbed, and hastily spit on his hand and nudging himself under Lars' arms while he was curled in pain, he pat his chest again.

"Steven," Lars wheezed, tears welling in his eyes from the exertion, "I'm sorry I was a jerk to you most of the time. You're alright for someone who never grew past the second gra-," his voice cut off when he lost the ability to breathe again from the excruciating throbbing his heart was creating.

"Lars," Steven pleaded out as he heard the monitors beeping from the dangerous readings, "Please hold on!"

Footsteps of doctors could be heard approaching the room.

Gasping again, groaning as he tried to sit up, Lars muttered, "Steven...?"

The boy looked him in the eye, looking distraught, "What?"

"...this sucks," he wheezed before everything suddenly seized up, and he was unable to do anything but allow himself to fall back and let everything black out.

"I'm sorry. He's gone."

When he opened his eyes again, he was standing on the hill he and Steven had rushed up to a few years earlier, rescuing his three cool friends from the gross moss that had engulfed them all.

And just as he remembered so vividly, floating down onto the town were countless shimmering pink flowers, their reflection turning the afternoon sun rose gold. It was surprisingly calming, and even with everything that had just happened, Lars felt strangely at peace, and strangely better than he'd ever felt in his entire life.

Is this heaven?

"Not exactly, Lars."

Turning around, Lars saw her sitting on the hill, watching Steven play in the distance.

"Rose?", Lars suddenly spoke up, "That's your name, right?"

"You remember?", she smiled, turning her head to face him.

"Well uh, you never actually told me your name when I saw you," Lars rolled his eyes, "Also I was really out of it, and still freaked about falling off the ledge-"

Rose just gave a small laugh, and turned her head back to face Steven, patting the grass beside her after a few seconds.

Without even thinking it over, Lars sat down beside her. Even after growing up from the small child he'd first met her as, she was still big and magnificent, and left him in a state of slight awe. He called out to Steven once, but the boy didn't even turn his head. Rose spoke up again, "He can't hear you, I'm afraid. Right now...it's just us."

"Oh...alright," Lars mumbled, swallowing as he watched flowers float in the sky.

"So uh...about that time where I called you weird...", he scratched his head, "I didn't really mean it-I mean...how was I to know you were Steven's mom, I just-"

"I know," she smiled softly, "You were upset...scared...you were worried about your friends."

"Well yeah..."

After a bit of silence, Rose smiled fondly, "I'm so proud of Steven. He's been doing a good job of taking care of inhabitants of Earth, hasn't he?"

"...yeah...guess so," Lars muttered.

"Do you ever take care of Steven?"

"...Nah...that kid can take care of himself just fine."

"I'm sure he can...but what if he were to ask for help?"

"Well...I don't know what. Seems like everyone else is more able to help him than I can. And then when I think I can do something worth helping with, he's able to go ahead and do it himself," he shrugged, then gave a wistful smirk, "I guess I'm a little inadequate that way."

"Not inadequate," Rose assured, "It just means you'll have to find a different way to connect with him."

"I guess...", Lars muttered, before admitting, "He's a good kid."

"I'm glad we agree," she smiled, pulling a flower down from the air, placing it into Lars' hair. Lars didn't immediately swat it off, too busy thinking.

"Hey...why did my heart condition come back anyway? I thought you cured it," Lars looked at her, puzzled.

"Powers can be fickle," she admitted, "Just like people."

Lars blushed a little with embarrassment, "...I can't believe I forgot about you."

"Don't feel too bad about it. You remember me...and you remember the gift of life I gave you, yes?"

"Yeah. I do. I really do," Lars mumbled, "...And I never got to thank you for it. So uh...thank you...for helping me stick around a couple more years."

Straightening his shoulders, he turned, and held his hand out to shake. With a smile, Rose gently took it in her larger hand, shaking firmly, "Nice grip," she smiled.

"Thanks," Lars sniffed, trying not to look too proud.

Before he could even ask her if she was alright, and why she was crying, Rose wiped her tears off with a single finger, "You should get back now," she spoke softly, gently pressing his chest, "You've been asleep too long."

"And Lars...Tell Steven I said 'I love you'."

Lars woke to the sound and sensation of the grossest sobbing he'd ever heard in his entire life, and opened his eyes slowly to see Steven draped over his chest, a complete mess, tears, snot, and drool all cascading off his face, pooling onto Lars' chest.

He didn't notice Sadie crying as she stood at one corner of the bed and shaking horribly, or his parents' both looking distraught and heartbroken, his mother crumpled in a sobbing heap against his father, who was struggling to keep composure. He didn't even notice Ronaldo had finally visited, sitting in the back of the room, staring at the wall, looking petrified, while the doctor sadly watched the grieving party.

Nope. All Lars could notice, and care about in that moment was the disgusting amount of bodily fluid soaking his skin.

"GROSS!", he yelled, sitting up abruptly, which elicited a shriek of surprise from everyone, and he promptly began swatting at his chest.

"LARS?!", Sadie suddenly shouted, and everyone immediately hurried over to the bed, save for Ronaldo, who had fallen off his chair, and Dr. Maheswaran, who had dropped her clipboard.

Lars was getting smothered in so many hugs, and to his disgust, tears again, and groaned, "Guys, I can't breathe!"

"Oh Lars," his mother cried but still smiling, kissing her son's cheek, while his father cried openly with relief.

"Why's everyone so freaked?!"

Steven was still squeezing Lars tightly, choking out cries, "Y-you were-"

"You were pronounced dead-" Sadie began, wiping her eyes, "Like...half an hour ago."

"Holy sh-", Lars began, stunned, "Seriously?"

"I have no idea how this could happen, but-" Dr. Maheswaran began, "This is pretty miraculous. You're very lucky, young man."

"Nah, I just have connections," Lars teased, and then pointed at a still stunned Ronaldo, "Sorry to disappoint, but I live another day!"

"Thank betsy," Ronaldo wheezed, "For a moment, I thought I was going to have to deal with a guilty conscience forever!"

"I can still arrange that," Lars grinned like an ass as he pretended to rip his IV out.

Steven was near speechless as he suddenly poked Lars' chest hard.

"Ow! Steven, what the-"

"Your chest!", Steven whispered with an excitable squeak, "Look!"

Lars looked down, and instead of seeing surgery scars, his skin was back to the way it was.

"Wh-", he began, looking stunned.

Everyone stared in awe.

"Steven..." Lars' jaw nearly dropped, "Did your spit powers...did they finally work?"

Steven yelped, "Quick, lets hear your heartbeat! Does it hurt?"

Lars paused to realize it hadn't, "...no...it...feels great! I feel great!"

"We did it!", Steven cheered, leaping onto Lars to give him a tight hug, and both boys were laughing hysterically, Lars both grossed out and amazed at Steven's ability, leaving everyone else to be confused, and Lars' absolutely normal heart monitor readings being sweet music to their ears.

Dr. Maheswaran had decided to keep Lars for a few extra days to observe him, to find some sort of answer to his sudden recovery, and to make sure he actually was recovered. So when visiting hours were over, Sadie had hugged him goodnight, Ronaldo promising to visit again, and both his parents bidding him goodnight and that they loved him dearly, Steven was the last to head out, smiling as he pat Lars' chest again, "You sure you feel OK now?"

"Uh, yeah, duh, what'd the doctor say?", Lars grinned smugly, and poked Steven's chest, "Oh yeah. Before I forget. Two things."

"What's that?"

"Your mom said she loves you."

Steven immediately beamed ear to ear, hearing the L-word come from Lars' usually filthy mouth, "And what's the second thing."

"You are NEVER to cry on me again. Capisce?"

Steven repeated the agreement with laughter, nearly dancing out of the room with pure giddiness.

Right before he went to bed, Lars had gotten out of bed and went over to the window with no trouble, opening it, and staring out over the city, seeing the same lake that he'd watched intently so many years ago as a child, smiling with the knowledge that he was well again, and that he would be going home soon.

"Thanks again, Rose," he whispered, "I owe ya one."

When he woke up abruptly that next morning as the sun rose, curled up comfortably, a pink flower had settled itself right near his chest.

He smiled peacefully, thanking Rose again, gifting himself an extra two hours of sleep.