"I want to have the surgery," Marinette says, making Clarice stop in her tracks. She slowly turns to look at the girl currently seated on her study desk, not in the slightest bothered by the world.
Marinette finally made it on top of the transplant list, and there was a heart coming in today. The question now begging for an answer would be if she'll take it.
"Are you sure?" She stares at the bulletin board in front of her. It has all sorts of things pinned to it, from polaroids to sketches, and fairy lights, courtesy of Alya's boyfriend running out of ideas on how to be a better friend during these difficult times.
"A new heart? What's there to talk about?"
"Sure, a new heart means less medication, but also a shorter lifespan. If you don't take it, you can still have up to ten years."
"If I don't take it, I'll be bedridden for the rest of those ten years because I'm not strong enough to live my life." Clarice swallows the forming lump in her throat. A new heart often means a new life. Who wouldn't want that?
She sees the girl off to the operating room before making her way to the gallery. She watches them put her on bypass then begins to pray the rosary.
She's on her fourth mystery when there's obnoxious beeping from the OR, and she feels her heart stop.
"What's happening?" she manages to speak through the microphone.
"She's anaphylaxic." That basically knocked the air out of her lungs, and she's got nothing left to say.
Out of nowhere, a horrifying beep replaces all the sounds, and waves of emotions come to try to drown her.
All of this shouldn't be happening. Marinette deserves better.
She doesn't know how long it's been, but suddenly, someone's beside her and calling her. Clarice notices she's kneeled on the floor and wipes her clammy hands on her scrubs.
"We can't continue the surgery," she realizes it's the anesthesiologist in charge.
"There's a risk of another anaphylaxic shock, which could be fatal this time around."
"We rescuscited her and injected her with adrenaline to beat the anesthesia out of her system, but she probably has only an hour left." There goes the bad news.
She spends fifteen minutes telling herself to straighten up. She's still got a job to do. It has always been part of the job description. In a way, it's always made her appreciate life, that it's too short to complain about the many things that make it unique, but it doesn't beat the fact that having to watch them have their final moments shatters her heart to a million pieces.
She looks out the window. Paris is white with fog, usual for mid-January. She slightly bites her cheek before taking a deep breath and marching into the room. Marinette would've wanted to die in Spring, with the cherry blossoms reminding all her loved ones that there's no reason to cry more tears.
She takes in a sharp gasp. It's absolutely not her place to break down in front of everyone who has gathered around the pale sleeping beauty lying limp and breathing through an oxygen mask.
"Hey," she says as Clarice removes the oxygen mask for her. Hearing the girl's coarse voice sends a shiver down her spine.
"I knew you'd come."
"What did I tell you? You'll always have me." She accepts the seat from Sabine.
Silent moments are always most appreciated. She replays all the happy moments. From their first meeting to helping build the Christmas tree whenever she has to spend Christmas with them.
"I think I'll love it there. It was beautiful, and I could walk."
"Then He told me I forgot something." She slightly turns to look at the envelope peacefully lying on the table.
"Make sure he gets it."
"Adrien?" She gives a slow nod, accompanied by a sensible, small smile.
"Do you think he'll forget everything?" Her voice is nothing but a whisper by now. Clarice stands up to tuck the blanket around the frail girl's shoulders, letting her feel a little warmer before the inevitable.
"I'll let him to, anyways." Eyes flutter shut, and the hand she's unknowingly held on to completely loses its grip.
Sabine's sobs cloud the telltale cry of the monitor attached to her now-deceased daughter. She moves away to let Thomas hug and kiss his daughter one last time. She's in good hands.
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Take Me With You ✓
Fanfiction"Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings." Marinette Dupain-Cheng was diagnosed with Friedreich's Ataxia at the age of eleven-an incurable, slowly progressing, genetic disease that will e...
