note 1: thank you so much for the kind reviews, and the favorites and alerts as well. I'm really glad there are people enjoying this fic.

note 2: this is being written from mobile so i apologize in advance for any and all mistakes

chapter two

you and me and the satellites

When Emma opens her eyes the next morning, the sun shines through her window and a nurse is hovering over her bed. She blinks.

"Hello, Emma! Good morning!" Brittany chirps, sounding very much like the humming birds outside of her window. Emma can appreciate the beauty of happiness, but not before ten am. She glances at the digital clock on her bedside table. The bold red letters read 8:29. A groan escapes her lips.

Still, she manages to only half-grunt a "good morning, Brittany," in return. What does she want? Are they doing a surprise weigh in? Maybe she knows about the last one. About the water and the coins. Guilt floods her senses.

"I brought your breakfast..." She trails off and Emma has to note that her voice changes. She almost sounds hesitant. Afraid, even. Like the mention of food will break Emma.

Emma swallows thickly. Last night she had sworn to herself she wouldn't eat today. It wasn't even a matter of self control, she decided as she eyed Brittany who was standing there, watching Emma. She wouldn't stay until the tray was empty, would she? Emma wasn't sure either of them had that kind of time to waste. She'd always been good at maintaining self control. Even when she was young, she never allowed herself more than three sweets a week. Back then it was simply because they were bad for your health and teeth.

And now.

Emma stares at the tray with unfocused eyes, racking her brain. Blinking, she smiles up at Brittany. "Looks amazing," she announces and grabs the tray, 'digging in.'

She stuffs some of the pancake into her mouth, only slightly hesitant. And then she chews. She chews and chews and the urge to spit it all out is overwhelming, but she resists. Brittany will leave soon, before she has to swallow, and then she'll spit it out. Brittany can't stay in here forever. She watches her pretend to reread her chart. Her eyes stay on Emma the entire time however. Emma stuffs more food into her mouth. Some of it accidentally gets swallowed and she wants to cry.

It doesn't count, she tells herself. It was barely any. Probably not more than fifty calories. The thought of it being in her body is enough to make her gag slightly on the food in her mouth.

Brittany finally offers her a smile. "I'll leave you alone to finish. I'm proud of you."

Emma smiles, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk preparing for winter. The only difference is chipmunks don't feel disgusting for hoarding food in their mouths the way Emma feels when she makes her way into the bathroom attached to her room and spits it all out into the toilet. She returns to her room and collects the plate. She scrapes a believable amount off into the toilet. Standing there, she watches it just float.

It looks almost like throw up, except it's only been chewed. Not swallowed or digested. Emma bites her lip. There is a part of her that regrets this already. That sighs heavily and insists she just eat. It's just food, that part tells her. It's not that big of a deal. Except, for Emma, it is. Food is a vital life source, but for her it has become the enemy. It keeps you alive but she doesn't want it. She can live without it, she tells herself. This is not logical and she knows.

She flushes the toilet. It doesn't matter. All that matters is her body. How awful is it, to be stuck in skin you would like to set fire to.

She wants to watch her body burn.

After her morning therapy, classes, and then lunch — Kara doesn't eat with her so her breakfast routine is repeated; chew, chew, spit, flush — Emma ends up outside. The air is a bit chilly, so she wraps her cardigan tightly around her thin body and pulls her knitted cap down farther over her face. The sun shines brightly despite the nippiness. It's nice out here. Relaxing. The perfect place to read a thick novel and sip on a warm latte.

Emma thinks about the amount of fat in those lattes however and the image shatters. Never mind. She'd prefer a water. Foods with no calories are her best friend. Water is her best friend. If she could, she would live off water alone and be completely fine. She doesn't need pancakes or a latte or that dumb ham sandwich the nurse brought her for lunch. All she needs is some crisp h2o.

Her fingers knit themselves together and she sighs. Why is she even here? She wants to go home. She wants things to be the way they were. They'll never be the way they were. Her parents will never look at her the same. She is a china doll, 'fragile' may as well be stamped in red letters across her forehead.

Someone interrupts her thought process by dropping down on the seat beside her. They say nothing, so Emma assumes it's a stranger. She's surprised to see Jordi.

His eyes look tired, there are bags underneath them and they water, but Emma says nothing to him about that. Instead, she's just happy to see him. "Hi," she says almost shyly.

"Hey," he murmurs in the same tone.

"You kept your leg."

"The cancer spread."

They speak at the same time and are left staring at each other, almost breathless. His words leave a hole in her chest. She knows what this means. She's spent enough time in this hospital, she's seen enough rooms being cleaned. Some people come for a day, some a year. Some people leave, they recover, go home. And some don't.

Her arms wrap around his neck and she pulls him to her, hugging him with all the strength she's got. It isn't much. It's enough though. He hugs her back.

"I don't want to die, Emma." His admission surprises her. Of course maybe it's obvious, he came across the border for this. He offered up his leg as a sacrifice. It wasn't enough. Emma wonders what that's like, to offer up a part of you to save an even bigger part of you. To be willing to cut a limb off to save yourself, to be at peace with it, only to find out it's not enough. Only to find out it's too late.

She can't tell Jordi he won't die. She wants to but it's a lie. Everyone dies. She wants to tell him he'll live until he's ninety, until he's old and grey. She doesn't know this. For all she knows he'll survive cancer only to die in a bank robbery. The idea is morbid and depressing. She holds him tighter.

"I don't want you to die either."

He pulls away and smiles at her. "I won't be able to freeze that leg now, huh?"

"You still technically can." She grins.

Jordi barks in laughter. "Touché, Emma. Touché."

An hour before dinner and Emma is hiding in a broom closet. Sitting beside a mop that looks like it's never seen water in it's existence and a bucket that's layered with years of grime, she holds Henry IV in her lap. As hard as she tries, she can't focus on the words. This closet, it's familiar. She looks around several times but her brain can't register.

Then the door swings open, florescent light brightening the small space. Shelves stretch out on one side with various products and a boy leaning on crutches arches his eyebrow at her at the same time she remembers.

Their first kiss.

Their second kiss.

Their last kiss.

Emotions well up in her throat and she feels dizzy but this could also be from the lack of food in her system. Taking a few calming breaths, she folds her book shut, careful to take extra time with it. It's almost as if she's avoiding him. She's not.

Really.

Emma thinks of the last time they spoke, and when she glances at him she can tell he's thinking about it too. Neither of them bring it up. They know better. There is no reason to discuss it. It's funny. This is their entire relationship summed up; when something happens don't discuss it. Avoid it. Pretend it never happened.

She's still pretending they never happened. Only, it's much harder than she'd like it to be. Whether Emma wants to admit it or not, Leo is special.

He always will be.

Leo stands in the doorway for a moment, seemingly contemplating. And then he wobbles forward and uses one of his crutches to push the door shut. They're swallowed in darkness and Emma is swallowed in the memory of his kiss.

He sits down beside her. "Emma?"

"Yes, Leo?"

"I hate Henry IV."

Despite herself, Emma laughs. Her stomach aches and her eyes hurt and her brain is a minefield, and yet here she is. A genuine smile spread across her lips.

Her fingers reach out on their own accord and wrap into his. Emma's heart stutters in her chest when she realizes and she goes to pull away, to apologize to him. They are not together anymore. They haven't been for a long time.

Leo broke up with her. Leo didn't want her. The self destructive thoughts come and her desire to eat is at an all time low. His hand tightens around hers.

Emma doesn't suddenly feel like she can eat a feast. She doesn't suddenly love her body, herself. When people desire a lover that doubles as a savior, often times what they really need is simply someone to grasp their hand tightly and not let go.

The thoughts are still there, still a swarm behind her eyes and wrapping around her stomach. They don't choke her lungs though. She doesn't feel afraid of them.

Maybe people just need to be reassured that they're not alone. Mental illness can play tricks on your mind. It alters your view on the world. It makes you paranoid, it makes you obsessive, it makes you afraid. It isolates and makes you feel alone, like no one understands. Emma thinks that's one of the hardest parts about it, aside from the addiction. It's knowing logically you're not alone, that people care, that people are there.

The need for reassurance.

The only reassurance Emma needs is Leo's cold palm pressed against hers, long fingers between her own. She leans her head against his shoulder.

"Leo?"

"Hm?"

"I'm glad I met you."

Despite the circumstances, despite the location, her disorder, his cancer. She feels selfish for that part of her that is happy he got cancer. That they met. She is selfish. Leo will never play soccer the way he used to, if at all.

But maybe even if he hadn't gotten cancer, maybe if she hadn't developed anorexia. Maybe.

"Me too, Em."

When she glances up at him his eyes are clouded and she has to bite her lip. He leans in slowly and she finds herself leaning as well. It's like their first kiss all over.

Except the door flies open before their lips can touch. Kara, Jordi and Dash stand in the doorway. Dash says nothing only walks right in and sits across from them like nothing happened. Jordi looks at them in question but says nothing and follows Dash in.

Kara, however, smirks and arches one perfect eyebrow as she allows the door to fall shut. She's still got that heart monitor attached to her as well as the hospital gown on which she'd spent a lot of time that week complaining clashed with her complexion. "Are we interrupting?"

Dash glances up at them from his hands where he was fiddling with something, a silent repeat of Kara's question. She can also feel Jordi's eyes in particular on her.

Leo shrugs and their eyes fall to Emma.

"We were discussing Henry IV."

Kara snorts.

"You were discussing something alright," Dash teases, then lifts up the item in his hand. Emma's eyes grow wide and Kara's grow sad. Jordi looks torn. He's curious but at the same time, he doesn't want to get into trouble. However he remembers his surgery and the news he had been given and it's rethought.

What the hell, you only live once, right?

"I can't," Kara pouts at the same time Emma protests.

"No way!" She turns to Leo, giving him a stern look. He simply shrugs.

"I can't control the man," Leo tells her trying to sound apologetic only his voice comes out more excited than anything.

She turns her eyes on Jordi who has the decency to look ashamed but his shrug tells her he's going to do it anyway. "Jesus Christ," she mumbles to herself. Mental note: get friends who are not questionable influences.

When Dash lights it up Emma considers leaving. She does not want to be here if they get caught for this. However it's too close to dinner and if she leaves she'll have to face her food. So she stays.

She tries not to stare when Leo takes the joint and wraps his mouth around it — tries not to think about his mouth which had only been inches from hers not ten minutes prior. It's interesting to watch as he inhales, the flame on the end glowing brighter as he pulls from it. His eyes close and his face relaxes and she bites her lip and has to look away.

Why is he so pretty?

Her eyes instead find Kara, who's engaged in a conversation with Dash. She's laughing which almost scares Emma. She blames the "fumes" the weed is letting off. Oh, no. Does that make her second hand high as well? She tries to hold her breath, especially as Leo exhales, not wanting to breathe in any of the smoke knowing nothing about marijuana and the dangers—or lack of—of its secondhand smoke.

Leo notices her holding her breath after he's passed the joint to Jordi and laughs at her. "You're such a dork, Em."

She scowls, feeling defensive as she breathes in on instinct and wants to smack herself for it. "And you're high."

He smirks, "I'm actually not." He murmurs leaning closer so she can hear him. "It takes more than one hit to get you high from a blunt, Em."

She flushes. It's funny how much she can tell you about things that have to do with school based intelligence but when it comes to things that kids her age usually know such as weed, she's very lacking. It makes her feel uncomfortable and like the odd kid out. Except with Leo she's not quite as ashamed nor does she feel left out, only slightly flustered.

"Well, excuse me. I'm not a pothead unlike some people so I wouldn't know," she smiles up at him sweetly and he laughs, grinning down at her.

"I'm not a pothead, Emma."

"Uh huh. Of course not."

The blunt comes back to him at this time and she smirks as he takes it, doing nothing to disprove her point. His eyes lock onto hers as he pulls. He holds his breath and her gaze simultaneously and when he blows his smoke into her face she's not as pissed off as she pretends to be.

She plucks his nose and he tickles her side and Kara and Dash and Jordi discuss the latest pop hits in depth and Emma feels okay.

It's as okay as she's felt in a very long time and she glances around at them. Leo interjects into their friends' conversation, arguing Kara's point. Dash and him high five. Jordi quirks a smile.

These are her people she realizes. Dash and Leo and Jordi and even Kara who she can't stand half the time but also realizes she's come to accept and even find some of her words endearing (but only some).

This is her Red Band Society and she wouldn't trade them. Not for anything.

(Okay, except sometimes maybe Kara.)