FALLON
The air is thick, almost like swallowing a lump of clay, but wherever I am is so pretty, I don’t mind.
The sky is a dusky purple, and littered with millions – even trillions – of sparkly stars. They twinkle so bright, and it feels like if I stretch my arms out far enough, I could touch one.
The grass is soft, fluffy, and bright white. It’s not normal grass, and as I curl my bare toes into the surface, I realize I’m standing on a cloud.
I glance to my left, and there’s miles and miles of clouds, all different shapes and sizes.
A shriek in the distance catches my attention, and I can’t shake the feeling that it sounds familiar, like I know that voice.
Slowly, I bounce across the cloud, following the echo until I come across a rope bridge. I can’t see where it leads, but I know I have to follow it, to see what’s on the other side.
My heart swells, and all I feel is love radiating through my body, vibrating against my bones. It’s what pushes me to cross the wooden planks, holding tightly onto the rope railing as the bridge bounces beneath my feet.
A fog rolls in, increasing with each step that I take, and finally, I begin to see a figure standing on the cliff, waving both arms at me.
The person looks small, like a pint-sized human, and as I get closer, I notice it’s a young boy.
“Hi,” he says, a tiny squeak in his voice as I step off the bridge.
“Hi. Do I know you?” I ask, taking in his features before he starts running away from me.
He has deep brown eyes, the chocolate shade so familiar, but I can’t place it. His messy mop of dark hair frames his face, almost like tiny curls, and I know I’ve seen this person – this boy – somewhere before.
“Come here!” He yells, giggling as he runs over to a playground.
I didn’t notice it before, almost like it appeared out of nowhere, but it’s colorful, with big slides and a set of swings.
I watch the boy play, admiring his fearlessness as he climbs up a rock wall, never glancing down or hesitating to make a move.
He must spend a lot of time here, everything is familiar to him, and a small smile spreads across my face. He’s so blissfully happy, there’s no pain where we are, and it’s peaceful, too.
No other sounds have breached this place, and nothing seems to be plaguing me either, all the weight I carry in my body usually is gone, making me feel light as a feather.
“Try it! The clouds bounce like a trampoline,” the boy says, suddenly standing beside me and putting his tiny hand in mine.
“Show me?”
He smiles up at me, his front two teeth missing, and he has dimples, one on each cheek that grows the wider his grin gets.
“Salto – jump ,” he says in Italian, and I do exactly as he does, our bodies flying through the air.
His laugh warms something inside me, and I feel tears welling behind my eyes, even though I’m not sad.
I wonder if he has a family, if they’re here somewhere, watching from afar as he plays. When I crane my neck to look around, there’s nobody here but us two.
“Do you have a family, maybe a mom or dad?”
“My dad isn’t here. He’s somewhere else, but I watch him a lot. He’s a good man,” he explains, and I notice how wise is, like he’s years older than he appears.
“And your mom?” I ask, afraid of what his answer will be.
But before he speaks, I realize that I know what he’s going to say, and I squat down until we’re eye-level.
Looking at him feels like home, a familiarity that I’ve only felt with one other person, and it’s evident in his eyes that he knows me, a small sparkle in them that I’ve only seen once before.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come for a visit. I’ve missed you, but I watch you, too.”
Where am I?
What universe did I slip into?
This can’t be real, I think, as every painful moment I’ve experienced comes crashing back into me, knocking the breath from my lungs and I force my eyes shut.
I don’t want to see this, to face whatever this is, but something is willing me to keep going, to endure the impossible.
My heart feels full, fuller than it ever has, and when I open my eyes again, the boy is holding his hand against my chest.
“Angel?” I whisper, the word barely escaping my lips.
“Mammina.”
Everything makes sense now, and the tears slip down my cheeks as I stare into the eyes of my son. Ozzy’s and my son. He looks exactly like him, but with my smile, and my brain.
“I don’t want to leave you again,” I say suddenly, knowing that this place isn’t meant for me.
I don’t belong here, but someone opened this door, and I must’ve slipped through the crack or jumped through a window.
“You won’t. I’m pretty busy, but I like to follow you sometimes, when the fog goes away.” He starts jumping again, his laugh filling my ears every time he lands.
He seems okay, like I left him in a safe place, but still, I can’t imagine going back to a universe that he’s not a part of.
“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No, Mommy, you sent me here to keep us both safe.” He smiles again, and my heart feels like it’s going to explode. “You have to go soon. Can you push me on the swings?”
How does he know that? Am I looking into the future, or is he from a place where he’s seen how events play out?
I decide not to question it — if he’s right, I don’t have much time.
Rather than wonder where I am, I spend time with him, pushing his little body until he’s flying through the air, and pumping his legs so the swing climbs higher into the sky.
Finally he comes down, reaching for my hand again.
“You have to go now.”
“Go? I just got here. Can I see you again?”
“No. But I can see you, and I like to play with the stars. They twinkle when I jump on them,” he says, pointing toward the purple sky.
“I love you, my sweet boy. My Angel,” I cry, tears streaming down my cheeks as I pull him into my chest.
“I love you too, Mommy.”
Just like that, he’s out of my arms, and I frantically search for him, but it’s no use.
I’m back to where I started, the rope bridge in the distance, and I know that Angel is gone, probably jumping off to another universe.
I feel at peace, though, like I did when I first got here. I’m not sad anymore, the tears are dried on my skin, and I don’t feel like I’ve lost him.
That space in my heart that I’ve saved just for him is so strong that I can almost feel it surging through me, like he’s reminding me exactly where he is.
He’s always with me, and that’s enough to bring me back home.
* * *
A bright light breaches my vision, and I faintly hear voices, but I can’t make out the words. I open my eyes slowly, forming a squint, and I see a blurry version of Ozzy.
He’s talking to someone, his focus solely on that person, and I try to reach for him. I feel groggy, like I’ve been somewhere else, but suddenly, I remember that I was.
Somehow, I ended up in another dimension. It was peaceful and familiar, filled with everything that lives inside my heart and soul.
I need to tell Ozzy where I went. He has to know what I saw, what I learned while I was traveling through time and space.
“Ozzy,” I groan, a throbbing sensation coming from my head as I try to speak.
“I’m here, Fallon. Drink some water. You’ve been asleep for a long time,” he says softly, encouraging me to sip from a paper straw.
I still feel out of it, like whatever landed me here isn’t fully resolved. I comb through my memories, but the last thing I can recall is making dinner for Ozzy. Everything else, besides my dream, is a blur.
“Make her go away,” I choke out, pushing the water away.
Nothing is more important than what I have to say, and if there’s a nurse or doctor here, I might get locked away in an asylum. Where I went cannot be explained rationally, but I believe in every second I spent there.
“I’ll come back in a little while, Fallon. We have to run some tests and get you out of this bed, though, okay?”
“Fine,” I say in a huff, crossing my arms as I watch her blue-colored scrubs exit the room.
My vision is still hazy, enough where I can see color and faces, but not make out every detail, like I’m slowly reentering reality.
“What’s going on, Bambi? That nurse was only checking on you,” Ozzy says, taking my hands in his.
“Ozzy, you won’t believe it. I was in the most beautiful place. The sky was purple, we jumped on the clouds, and the stars. Oh my god , if you could’ve seen the stars…” I explain, my words coming out quickly, but through my haze, I can see his eyebrows raise with concern.
“They gave you some pretty strong shit. I’m sure you felt like you were flying.” He laughs, reaching out to gently stroke my cheek.
“No, you don’t understand. I saw Angel, our son . I held him, and we played together. He had the biggest chocolate eyes, and curly hair just like yours.” I blink, staring at him, waiting for him to say something.
I know what I’m saying is batshit crazy, but I need him to understand, just a little bit. I’m not sad anymore, and I don’t worry about what we could’ve had. I met Angel, and he’s safe .
He’s happy.
He lives in a place where pain doesn’t exist, and he watches us.
He knows who we are, and nothing in this world, or any other one, could ever come close to matching what I’m feeling.
It’s something that could only be accomplished by locking eyes with one person, my flesh and blood. Now that I’m back, I’m absolved, and my broken heart is magically stitched back up because of him .
“What are you talking about?” He asks bluntly, pure confusion plastered across his face, his eyebrows knitted into a permanently raised state.
Now that my eyes have readjusted, those small features on Ozzy’s face stand out even more, proving that I truly did see our son in my dreams.
His eyes are the exact same, that dark chocolate color standing out so much more now, and it feels just as familiar.
His hair is mussed, likely from him raking his fingers through it while stressing about me, but I only recognize the curls that framed our boy’s face, the similarity so striking it becomes overwhelming, and I struggle to inhale another breath.
“Ozzy, I’m not crazy, or drugged anymore. When I was asleep, I had a dream, something so vivid that I knew it had to be real. I was with Angel, and he is so fucking smart, he was talking to me in Italian.” I smile, recalling how he sweetly called me mommy once everything clicked into place.
He doesn’t have to think those other universes I talk about are real, but I know they are, I was there. At the very least, he doesn’t think I’m insane, and in a moment that I’ll never forget, he climbs into my hospital bed, tilting my chin ever so slightly, ensuring our gaze is locked.
“ Tell me everything about our boy.” He sighs deeply, wrapping his arms around me, and I don’t leave a single detail out.
We lay here for what feels like hours as I recount every tiny thing I can remember, and Ozzy listens, asking questions every so often.
We’re adding another layer to our bond, slapping it on top of everything else we already have that fuses us together so tightly. For once, everything feels like it’s going to be alright.
A sense of calm has washed over me, a settling has occurred inside my heart, and I’ve woken up in a hospital bed – still unsure of how I got here – much lighter.
The same nurse from earlier pops back in, and I groan internally, just wanting some peace and cuddles with my man. If I’m here, that means our date night was ruined, and I’m still yearning to connect with him in romantic ways, versus our usually mutually destructive conversations.
“Hi, Fallon. Can we take a look at that wound, maybe talk about getting you discharged?” She asks, and I nod hesitantly as Ozzy climbs out of the bed.
“What happened?” I take the plunge, finally curious about what could be wrong with me.
It’s strange, most people probably wake up terrified, especially if they’re memories aren’t clear, but after my dream, I know I’m fine.
If I weren’t, I would still be in that purple universe, but I have unfinished business that requires my full attention in this one.
“Remember that bump I kept telling you probably was something more than ingrown hair, or bed bugs?” Ozzy says, sarcasm and ‘ I told you so’s’ dripping off his every word.
“Faintly, yes,” I reply, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Well, little smart mouth , a piece of copper was lodged up there.” He points at my head, a sly smile on his face.
How is that even possible?
I’ll admit, that’s one of the last things that I’d have expected. In fact, it’s so strange that I start laughing. Full belly, hysterically laughing until tears pool in the corners of my eyes.
The nurse shifts uncomfortably, her gaze a mix of concerned and slightly terrified. I probably look like a lunatic, but I don’t care, of all the crazy things that have happened to me, this sits pretty high up on that list.
“Anyway, your wound is healing just fine, and the labs show that the copper is flushed from your system for the most part. All that’s left is to get you moving, and we’ll be able to send you home,” the nurse explains, and I nod along intently.
“Wait, is that why you stole my blood?” I interrupt, unable to contain the raging silliness traveling through my brain.
Ozzy buries his face in his hands, likely hiding his smile, but I keep my eyes locked on the nurse.
“Uh, yes ma’am. You had bloodwork done,” she says, pointing at the IV still lodged into the vein on my hand.
“Thank you. Can we take a walk to the cafeteria?” Ozzy asks, but the nurse still has a strange look on her face, pointed in my direction.
We go through a few more procedural items on her little clipboard, and I stifle my laughter through the rest, giving this poor woman a break from my antics.
Finally, she unhooks me from the monitors, giving us space to take a short walk. My balance is a bit shaky as I get my bearings, but with Ozzy’s arm looped in mine I get my sea legs back after a few steps.
“I’m not going anywhere in this gown,” I say sternly, looking up at Ozzy, whose eyes are firmly locked onto me.
“Pepper brought you one of my sweatshirts. I’ll help you, Bambi.” He smiles, leading me toward a small bag in the corner of the room.
“Aw, she’s the sweetest,” I coo, slipping right into the hoodie, it smelling exactly like his lavender and minty cologne – my favorite scent.
I feel even safer now that I’m wrapped in the comfort of him.
Ozzy keeps our pace slow and steady down the hallways, keeping me in a death grip like he’s afraid I’m going to collapse at any second.
Besides the constant rumble in my belly, and this ridiculously annoying bandage around my head, I feel incredible.
If my big, overprotective Greek God would release me, I’d be skipping down the halls, through the elevator, and right to where they cook the mediocre food.
“You seem … different,” he says softly, turning to face me completely once we’re in the elevator.
“I’m happy, baby. All that sad stuff isn’t chained around my ankles anymore. I’m telling you, I feel lighter, like I’ve been acquitted from the pain and suffering,” I say honestly, and his expression melts, a boyish grin spreading across his face.
“Whatever it is, I love it.” He pulls me into his arms, my head resting perfectly in the spot reserved for me above his heart.
“I love you ,” I whisper against the fabric of his shirt — and I do, with everything I have in my mind, body and soul.
Ozzy is the other piece of me, the other half of something we created, and the only other person who will ever understand me.
I feel like I’ve taken parts of that universe home with me. The content state of my body reminds me of the clouds I jumped on, and whenever I look at the stars, I’ll know where my Angel is.
When I see the signature twinkle, a signal from somewhere else, I’ll know it’s him watching us.
I believe in it wholeheartedly, so much so, that it’s breathed fresh, new life into me. I’m still the same Fallon, but I’m leaving with a whole lot more than I had when I arrived at this hospital.
* * *
It’s good to be home .
I was welcomed back with a pizza party, which is basically tradition for us at this point, and root beer floats, since I can’t drink alcohol for a little while.
Now, we’re all splayed across the couches, waiting for Lex to bring us what I can only assume is the bad news he insisted on delivering after dinner.
Oliver is to my left, while Ozzy is firmly planted on my right, snuggled up under the blankets with me. He’s treating me like I’m going to shatter into pieces, but after what happened, I’ll let it slide for a few days.
The tension is slowly spilling out of his muscles the longer he holds me, and it feels good to have my arms wrapped around him, mixed with the random kisses he’s been peppering on my face, forehead, and lips.
Pepper and Lex occupy the corner of the couch, while Max has the extended lounge to himself.
Our group is smaller now, two less than when we started to feel like a family, but I don’t miss those pieces. They’re gone for a reason, and our bond is only strengthening.
“So, I was able to decode this little device that came from your scalp, Fallon,” he starts, pausing as he pulls a small baggie from his pocket.
Ozzy, the doctor, and the nurse explained this all to me, but I’m still awestruck as I finally have the piece in my hands. It’s smaller than my pinky nail, but somehow, it began to poison my blood and dislodge itself from my skin.
Clearly, I’m stronger than this tiny bit of metal, as my body was able to reject it before it could kill me.
“It’s a tracker, isn’t it?” I ask, my harsh voice cutting through the silence in the room.
“Yes. Whoever implanted this has had your exact coordinates,” Lex mutters, almost as if he’s choosing his words carefully.
“Whoever? It’s obvious who did this … wait, can he hear us?” I retreat, my voice dropping to a whisper.
“No. It only sends GPS tracking,” he answers, and I immediately refill the pit in my stomach with the rage I swallowed for half a second.
“He fucking chipped me like an animal. He’s had my location since he … took me,” I pause, inhaling a deep breath as I beg my brain to wake up and remember something from when I was in that warehouse.
I come up empty, the first memory is always the same, nothing else penetrating my subconscious. Whatever they drugged me with was strong, and the device must’ve been easy to install, as I had no idea it was there until it needed to be surgically removed from my head.
It makes me sick, disgustingly nauseous, knowing that Mr. A. had access to my location all this time.
“The question is, do we destroy it or keep it in place?” Ozzy asks, but I shake my head in protest.
“Neither. I’m leveling the playing field. He stuck a fucking chip in my head, and at the very least, it should be stamped with ‘return to sender’ .”
All eyes land on me as I explain my idea, eyes widening with disbelief as I describe something so simple, yet risky, but I’m not calling for a count.
I’m the target, victim, and enemy all wrapped into a neat little box, but I’m fucking done being shaped or molded by someone else.
If he wants to play in the mud, we can get filthy, but I’ve been holding an ace up my sleeve for a few rounds now, ready to drop it when the time’s right.
I’ve been playing his game for way too long, abiding by his rules and stepping around his underground landmines, but that ends now.
The stakes may have been raised, but I’m getting off this fucking cyclone he’s enveloped me in.
In the end, he’ll be the one trapped on a ride he can’t escape from.
That carefree, whimsical spirit that possessed me while I was in the hospital is still there, but it won’t be known for making mistakes.
The next time I strike, it will be permanent, and anyone who’s caught in the crossfire will wish they never knew my fucking name as they attempt to pull themselves from the rubble.