The hospital should have kept him in bed.
That was the first thing Sebastian registered when he stepped into the corridor.
Too bright.
Too loud.
Too many people moving too quickly for his liking.
He steadied himself against the wall for half a second, breathing once, slowly, through the irritation building behind his ribs.
They had told him to rest.
They had insisted.
He had ignored all of it.
Because there was something he couldn't ignore.
Something from earlier.
Blonde hair.
Blue eyes.
A child.
And Lillian.
Standing there like a fragment of a life he had buried and never expected to see again.
He pushed forward again.
His steps were slower than he liked.
His body was still weak, still recovering from whatever had nearly shut everything down inside him, but his mind refused to match his physical state.
He didn't like not understanding things.
And he especially didn't like her being part of something he didn't understand.
Back in the pediatric wing, Lillian sat beside Ellie's bed.
Ellie was asleep again, more stable now, breathing softly under the blanket.
Lillian hadn't moved much since returning.
Her mind kept replaying it.
The corridor.
The stretcher.
Sebastian's face.
And the way his eyes had lingered just a moment too long on Ellie.
She told herself it meant nothing.
Three years meant nothing.
Right now, Ellie was what mattered.
Nothing else.
A knock sounded at the door.
Chloe poked her head in.
"You look like you haven't blinked in an hour."
Lillian didn't look up.
"I'm fine."
Chloe stepped inside anyway.
"That's not an answer."
Silence.
Chloe studied her for a moment.
Then lowered her voice.
"He's still here, isn't he?"
Lillian's hand tightened slightly around Ellie's blanket.
"…Yes."
Chloe exhaled slowly.
"That's not good."
Lillian finally looked up.
"I know."
But even as she said it, she didn't fully understand what "not good" meant yet.
Not until she saw him again.
Sebastian moved through the corridor slowly now, scanning each intersection with sharper focus.
He had started asking questions.
No one answered properly.
Privacy rules.
Procedures.
Excuses.
That only made him more certain there was something being hidden from him.
He didn't like that feeling.
Not at all.
Then he stopped.
Because something familiar appeared ahead.
A corridor junction.
The same kind he had passed before.
And something about it pulled at him again.
Like a thread he couldn't quite see but knew was there.
He turned the corner.
And saw her.
Lillian.
She was standing just outside a room.
Half-turned.
Holding the doorframe lightly as if steadying herself.
For a second, neither of them moved.
The world around them didn't matter anymore.
Noise faded.
Distance collapsed.
Everything narrowed to that single moment.
Lillian saw him at the exact same time.
And her breath stopped completely.
Sebastian was closer now.
Not on a stretcher.
Not unconscious.
Standing.
Barely.
Pale, still clearly unwell, but awake.
Real.
Her fingers tightened instinctively against the doorframe.
"…Sebastian."
His name left her before she could stop it.
For Sebastian, hearing her voice did something he wasn't prepared for.
It grounded him.
And destabilized him at the same time.
His expression shifted slightly.
Recognition fully clicked into place now.
Not just a figure in a corridor.
Not just a memory.
Her.
Three years collapsed into a single moment.
"Lillian."
His voice was rough.
Not cold.
Not warm.
Just… controlled.
Careful.
Like he wasn't sure if speaking would break something.
A long silence followed.
In that silence, Lillian became painfully aware of everything at once.
The hospital lights.
Ellie asleep behind her.
Sebastian standing there like he had walked out of a version of her past she had never fully closed.
And something in her chest tightening in a way she hadn't felt in years.
"You're supposed to be in bed," she said finally.
It came out more composed than she felt.
Sebastian's eyes didn't leave her.
"I was."
A pause.
Then, quieter:
"I wasn't getting answers there."
That landed between them.
Lillian didn't respond immediately.
Because she knew what he meant.
And she also knew what he didn't know.
Behind her, Ellie shifted slightly in her sleep.
The sound made Lillian instinctively glance back for half a second.
Just long enough.
Sebastian noticed.
His gaze flicked past her.
Toward the room.
Something moved in his expression again.
That same confusion from before returned.
Except sharper now.
More focused.
"…Who is that child?" he asked.
The question wasn't aggressive.
But it wasn't casual either.
It was careful.
Controlled.
Like he already suspected the answer would matter more than he was ready for.
Lillian's throat tightened.
She turned back toward him slowly.
"That's not something you need to worry about right now."
Sebastian's eyes narrowed slightly.
"That didn't answer the question."
The tension between them sharpened instantly.
Not anger.
Something quieter.
Heavier.
Lillian stepped slightly forward without thinking.
"Sebastian, you're not well. You should go back—."
"I'm fine."
The interruption was immediate.
Automatic.
But weaker than it would have been three years ago.
Lillian noticed that.
So did he.
Silence again.
Then Sebastian's gaze drifted briefly past her shoulder once more.
To the room.
To the child inside.
And something in him shifted.
Subtle.
But real.
A flicker of instability.
Not emotional exactly.
Physical.
His posture faltered slightly.
Just enough for Lillian to notice instantly.
"Sebastian—."
He raised a hand slightly.
Not aggressive.
Just dismissive.
"I said I'm—."
He stopped.
Mid-sentence.
His breath hitched.
His grip tightened briefly against the wall beside him.
Lillian took a step forward immediately.
"Hey—stop. You need to sit down."
"I don't—."
Another pause.
This time longer.
His vision seemed to blur slightly at the edges.
The hospital lights shifted.
Or maybe he did.
Either way, his balance wavered.
"Sebastian!" Lillian's voice sharpened now.
But he wasn't fully listening anymore.
His eyes were still on her.
Still trying to hold on.
Still trying to process too much at once.
Too many questions.
Too many gaps.
Too much he didn't understand.
And then—
his body gave out.
His knees buckled slightly.
Just enough.
Not fully collapsing yet.
But enough for alarm to spread through his system.
Lillian reacted instantly, stepping forward.
But she didn't reach him in time.
Nurses appeared almost immediately from down the corridor.
"Mr. Wolfe!"
"Get a stretcher—now!"
Sebastian's last conscious moment was Lillian moving toward him.
Her face sharp with concern.
Close.
Real.
And then everything tilted.
The world blurred.
Voices rose.
Footsteps rushed in.
And Sebastian Wolfe, still looking at Lillian, finally lost the strength to stay upright.
His vision faded at the edges.
The last thing he registered was her voice calling his name—
before everything went black.