notes: Well, I'm happy in real life, so I guess it's time to write a sad AU!
notes2: It's been a bit long since I touched this, so my writing varies from eloquent to crappy.
notes3: This contains a bit of medical stuff, so I apologize if I get anything technical wrong—I mean, come on, I'm only 15. I tried my best with the research I can get.
notes4: This was inspired by a soap opera and endless episodes of Untold Stories of the ER (I wish I watched Grey's Anatomy, too).
notes5: Completely random, but if you haven't, go check out CalaveraCandiedSkull's kalokairi! I'm sure you know her (if not, then you have all the more reason to check her stories out).
disclaimer: I'm pretty sure he doesn't have to worry about two major school projects and stress about them while NOT doing them.
summary: It was their anniversary and she was at the hospital. She hoped her boyfriend didn't mind.

The office was quiet during the night, small and pristine and neat as she had always kept it. Paperwork littered her desk, and she tried to get through them as best as she could, gripping her pen so hard and for so long that a reddish mark appeared on her finger from the strain. A yawn escaped her lips, unbidden, and she suppressed it with a hand. She usually worked in the hospital during the day, but tonight, she was assigned to the graveyard shift. It didn't help that today was her anniversary with her boyfriend, and they were supposed to be on a date at this time. Don't get her wrong, she loved working in the hospital and being able to help people, but—

(The words died in her throat after because she felt bad about being selfish—with every second, people could've been dying, and she was sure her boyfriend would understand her sacrificing one date.)

Suddenly, her name was paged through the PA system, and she wasn't the least bit surprised with this because she dealt with emergencies everyday. This was just a normal day on the job. Without wasting any time, she got up from her seat and rushed past the door, knowing fully well that she shouldn't take too long getting to the surgery room. The nature of these accidents needed medical attention right away.

Like she expected, it was an emergency physician, calling for her because of a man suffering injuries from a car crash needing surgery as soon as possible.

As she talked to the physician about the diagnosis, a stretcher was being rushed through the operating room doors, and she got a glimpse of the bleeding man lying on it. Immediately, her muscles froze and her heart felt as heavy as lead, sinking into the pits of her stomach with dread.

Never had she wanted this to happen, and neither did she want to have to save him from death—

Because the man on the stretcher was Natsu, and he was bleeding and fatally injured and—and—one mistake she made and he would be gone from her.

With an ache in her chest, she hurried her pace to the surgery room.

"What's his status?"

"Some of his bones are broken. His ribs are fractured and one is puncturing his left lung. There's also traumatic brain injury from hitting his head on the windshield. He's losing too much blood."

"Okay, inject some anesthesia and prepare the tools. We can't waste any time."

Upon first seeing the full extent of his condition, she felt her cool composure crack with anxiety. She didn't ever want to see him lying on this bed, bloody, broken, and on the verge of death.

When she reached the side of the surgical bed, she did a quick examination on the injuries she could see. Blood was running down his forehead, creating a wide trail on the side of his face from a wound in his head. She was certain there were bones broken beyond his skin, and the shirt he wore was soaked with the crimson color, dark and spreading. She had healed him for injuries before, even broken bones, but this—she swallowed the feelings stuck in her throat—this was serious. Two of his injuries were major, and she couldn't decide which one to heal first. She knew she couldn't heal both at the same time.

Grabbing a pair of scissors, she made quick work with cutting his shirt in half, making it easier to perform the operation on his chest. With that out of the way, she delved into the surgery.

She prayed to Mavis that, of all times, she didn't fail now.

"Natsu, you just crashed yourself into a tree!"

"Haha, yeah. My—my motion sickness doesn't let me drive at all."

"It's a good thing you're only sporting a new cast and not a hole in your head."

"Aw, come on, Luce, I just got a little dizzy and couldn't turn the handle in time."

"A little dizzy? Natsu, it was clear that you couldn't focus! I was—I was scared that you'd bump your head hard and—and—"

"I'm sorry for making you worry, but I'm fine! See?"

"Just—just promise me you wouldn't ride a bike again, or drive for the matter."

"Okay, Luce, if that puts your mind at ease."

Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, the nurse beside her wiping them up with a towel. She didn't pay much attention to this though, and all her concentration was poured on fixing her patient up. This proved to be difficult when she noticed that his condition was becoming worse and worse with each second, and everything she tried doing didn't seem to be working. The growing apprehension in the pits of her stomach made it harder to hold the surgical tools with a steady hand.

For a short moment, she let herself gaze at his face, seeming so peaceful that he looked like he was just sleeping, but the wounds and blood coating him told her otherwise. The glass of the oxygen mask fogged up with each rise and fall of his chest, telling her he was still breathing and alive but barely. The heartbeat monitor beeped with a constant rhythm yet it was slowing and the silence between the beeps were becoming longer and longer and she knew that she didn't have much time left.

"We have to stop the bleeding at all costs. It's making his condition harder to heal." Her voice was monotonous as she ordered her team, not betraying any of her inner turmoil. She had to keep her emotions in check. She can't lose herself to sadness if she wanted to save Natsu.

She wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she let him die.

"Hey, Luce, I have a surprise for you on our anniversary later!"

"I have a shift at the hospital tonight, remember?"

"I know."

"Doctor, his heart rate's decreasing drastically!"

The shrill, panicked shout of a nurse snapped her body straight, blood as frigid as ice, as if it sensed the thick layer of anxiety underlying the tone. There was a moment when she almost dropped the scalpel she was holding, but she bit her lip (to keep her concentration—to keep herself from crying) and readjusted her grip with a new determination. She could work under pressure. She can do this. "It's most likely because there's not much oxygen going to it. Pay more attention to his lungs!"

She will do this. She has to.

"You know, maybe that's why we fit together so well."

"Hm?"

"I injure myself a lot, and you're the one who always fixes me up."

"Haha, what would you do without me here then?"

"Honestly, I can't imagine a life without you—hey, stop looking at me like that!"

"That's so cheesy, Natsu. Where did you get that?"

"From your novels—ouch, Luce! Okay, okay, it's the truth! It came from my heart!"

"It better, or no more Doctor Lucy for you."

"Noooo, don't take Doctor Lucy away from me! She's the one who always bandages me when I get hurt—plus, you wear this really tight nurse outfit—"

"That's it! Next time you get hurt, don't expect me to heal you."

"What if it was serious?"

"Especially if it was serious."

"You're mean, Luce!"

"Pffft, you know I was kidding. Like I'd let you die if I can do something about it."

Even when she gave it more than her very best, things just kept going wrong.

"Doc, the rate of his heartbeat is still slowing down!"

The monitor only proved this when it beeped, and the pause was so long she started to feel fear inching inside her that there wasn't going to be next. At the sound of the short beep, she released a breath she didn't realize she was holding, and worked even faster.

"The blood's coming in through the hole! His lungs are going to fill up soon!"

The complications rose faster than her hands could work, and the desperation spread through her body just as fast, a blanket of dread that impaired her ability to think calmly and rationally. Compose yourself, Lucy! she screamed at herself, You won't be able to save Natsu in that condition!

She finally lost what little composure she had when she felt a familiar hand close around her wrist, gentle and cold when it should've been warm. "H-hey, Luce," Natsu said, voice croaking and weak, "I-it's okay..."

Her eyes widened. "Natsu..." Her vision started to blur, and she blinked hard to clear it. "No! I'm not giving up, you hear me?" It was painful to be the only one desperately holding onto that small shred of hope.

"You're almost...more stubborn than—than I am." A small grin made its way to his face, and it made it harder for her to focus on anything but drinking in every detail of his face, imprinting every part of him in her mind—because there was a small voice inside her that whispered maybe he really was leaving. She tightened her whitening grip on the tool in her hand.

"You're—you're such an idiot, Natsu," she said, throat constricting against her will, "Why would you get in that car?!"

He said nothing for a few moments, and she almost thought there wouldn't be any response from him anymore—the tears were gathering already at the brim of her eyes—when he merely smiled, a weak upturn of the corners of his lips, and said, "H-happy anniversary."

"Doc! Vital signs are dangerously low!"

She snapped her head up to meet the nurse's anxious stare, and anxiety started to fill her, too. "Shhh...don't talk anymore, Natsu," she said, scrambling to grab another tool—anything to save him, "Save your energy."

But Natsu was stubborn like her, and he wasn't one to follow orders. "I-I always...liked your smile," he said, a thoughtful shine lighting his eyes, "It was so bright—and—and...it makes me happy when I see it, especially—especially wh-when I cause it."

Her chest was tightening with heavy emotions, and she tried to stifle a sob. It escaped anyway. "Stop, Natsu." This was bad—all the things she did weren't working—he was still broken and she couldn't heal him. It didn't help that she felt every last bit of her strength dissipating the more hopeless she became. "Stop—stop talking like you're dying."

Natsu didn't seem to hear her, and he continued talking with that damned wistful smile on his face. "I'm s-sorry for being too—too much sometimes..." His grip on her wrist tightened slightly (as much as he could manage anyway), and his thumb brushed against her skin. "B-but I know y-you understand me...and you manage to—to put up with m-me."

Nurses rushed around the operating table, frantic shouting filling the room, and yet she couldn't stop herself from shaking uncontrollably. She was a doctor, dammit! She should always be in control. Focused. Calm.

But with the love of her life practically saying his goodbyes to her, she was reduced to nothing but a desperate girl who loved him, too.

"I—I love you, Lucy..."

And his eyelids slid down, a blanket that permanently covered from her the dark, shining eyes she had always loved. The small, serene smile was frozen in his lips and that was when she felt the world crumble around her—when the realization had begun to sink in after the shock.

The heart monitor gave a long, steady beep, piercing through the silence that descended on the room, and the feelings she had suppressed rose up to the surface.

"Resuscitate him!" she heard herself shout, "Give him 200 joules!"

A nurse prepared the defibrillator and grabbed the paddles with practiced speed, checking around them for physical contact with the patient. Almost reluctantly, she pried Natsu's hand from her wrist and stepped back, saying, "Clear!" When all of them was clear, the nurse rubbed the paddles together and pressed them to Natsu's chest. His body rose in the air and, just as fast, fell back on the table.

No response.

This drove her to dread. "No!" She took the paddles from the surprised nurse, and when they were all clear, she administered the shock on him at a higher joule, his chest rising then falling—

—but he was still not opening his eyes.

"No, Natsu, don't die!" The tears made hot trails on her cheeks, and she furiously rubbed the paddles together, preparing for the last shock. "Don't you die on me!" All the nurses shouted that they were clear, and she tried—for the last time—to return the beat (the life) to his heart.

There was a moment of tense anticipation, of carefully watching him for a twitch, an opening of his eyes, any signs of life—

The heart monitor continued to give her its steady beep, high-pitched and unending, and she just cried, clinging to his cold body like it would somehow, miraculously, bring him back to her.

"You want to become a doctor? That's nice, Luce! Being able to save people's lives, that's very heroic."

She gasped at the sound of the voice—his voice—and brought her eyes up to his face, but she only saw his closed eyes and closed mouth and realized it was only in her head.

She became a doctor to save people's lives, but it seemed so worthless when she couldn't even save the most important to her.

"Luce, shhh, it's okay."

"N-no, it's not, Natsu! The patient—the patient was just a kid and I—I couldn't save him!"

"You did the best you could. There was nothing more you could do. Sometimes you just—you just have to accept that you can't save every life, even if you want to. You have to let them go."

He laid down on the couch, one arm limply splayed on the edge and another holding an open box up to the ceiling. He stared at it, tilting his head in different angles to get a different view (as if that would change what was inside). The house was so quiet because she wasn't there, he thought, and he was starting to get bored. Television and video games weren't as enticing to him right now and he wondered why.

Oh, that's right. Because it was supposed to be an anniversary but it couldn't be without the other person.

He wasn't mad, he knew, because she worked at a hospital after all, and she was doing the most heroic thing of saving dying people but—maybe he was just disappointed, because he actually planned something this time, and he knew she was going to enjoy it, her face brightening with the pretty smile she always gave him and—

Just thinking about it made his heart warm and his face light up with a grin.

Then gloom down again because it wouldn't be happening—not tonight anyway.

But it was their anniversary today, and it just seemed so perfect and romantic like she would've liked and—

Maybe it could happen tonight.

An idea forming in his mind, he got up and reached for the keys on the small hook in the kitchen.

He would be breaking his promise, but this was a special case.

Just sitting in the car gave him a nauseous feeling, and it wasn't even moving yet. He questioned himself, for probably the millionth time that night, why he was on a vehicle, sitting on the driver's seat with his hands firmly gripping the steering wheel, but then he remembered her bright smile, and it was all the reason he needed.

He grinned to himself, feeling the excitement overcome the nausea for a brief moment.

"Lucy, here I come!"

The drive so far was okay, to say the least.

He was still in no perfect condition to operate a vehicle, that was certain. His vision swam a bit—and he tried his best to stay focused on the doubled road (good thing there were only a few cars driving). There was still a pounding headache drilling through his skull and he felt his dinner rising up again to his throat, wanting to make a reappearance.

But he still hasn't crashed the car and that was more than he expected.

Remembering his special plan, a sudden wave of resolution washed over him, seeking the comfort of the object.

Lucy'll probably kill him, but she wouldn't be able to stay mad at him for what he was about to do.

Without taking his eyes off the road, his hand searched for the box on his side, cursing when he touched the felt cover and caused it to clatter near his feet. He tried reaching for it, risking a few glances off the road, but found that his arm was too short. Even if he pulled at the seatbelt and extended his arm as much as he could without straining it and pulling it out of his socket, his fingertips could only touch the velvet surface.

He cursed again when he tipped the box on one of its sides, causing it to open and the object inside to fall on the carpeted surface behind the pedals, even farther from his reach. He wanted to just leave it be—at least, until he reached the hospital (what he had been doing was dangerous enough—it was a wonder he hasn't crashed to anything yet). The headache was worsening and his vision was swaying even more now (because he kept swiveling his gaze from the road to the box). Really, he could just leave the thing there and get this drive over with first.

But the object seemed to sparkle tauntingly at him, the shine clearly visible within the dark shadows near his feet, and he knew that if it rolled a couple more inches away, into the small, hidden corners under his dashboard, it would be well out of his reach, and he might not be able to get it back (that is, without having to ask help from someone—or worse, having Lucy see it).

Telling himself it would only be a quick second, he unlatched the seatbelt to allow himself more room to stretch his body, and bent down until his arm could fully reach the object. A smile made its way to his lips when he grasped it in his hand, small but valuable and perfect. It held within itself his future, as well as (maybe) Lucy's. There was no way he would lose this promise.

He had just risen from his inclined position when blinding lights flashed in his eyes, and it was a moment too late when he realized they were headlights—bright and coming right at him. His reflexes turned the wheel just in time to make the car turn sharply and avoid the incoming truck—

—but the relief was short-lived when even stepping on the brakes couldn't stop the car from crashing into a tree.

The impact hit him hard, and everything faded to black.

Dead silence filled the room, no one daring to utter a word to fill it. Maybe they didn't out of respect for her, to give her this moment to mourn peacefully, despite hospital protocol demanding they take the body to the morgue.

"Could you—" a sob caught in her throat, "Could you give me a minute?"

The nurses nodded, casting her pity-filled and sympathetic glances. She knew they haven't experienced something like this, but they understood, understood that losing a patient always left a painful pang in their hearts—and if that patient was important to one of them, it absolutely tore them apart.

Wendy, one of the young nurses she often talked with, went up to her and merely reached for her hand, squeezing it to provide a little consolation. She didn't say anything because she knew—they both knew—that no words would give her any form of comfort right now.

When she was finally alone (alone, because even though Natsu was here, he was cold and dead), she allowed the sadness to swallow her whole and the longing to explode in her chest, making her shudder from the sheer amount of emotions battling inside her. In the end, only numbness remained.

Her hand touched his cheek, feeling the icy skin that used to be so warm, and felt another wave of tears wanting to fall. She held it back furiously—because Natsu never liked it when she cried, and he wouldn't like it even more that she was crying for him.

"Stupid Natsu," she whispered, voice tight, "Why—why would you even—?"

Her mouth hung open in the middle of her sentence when she saw his hand, now loosely enclosed in a fist and letting her see what was inside.

The anguish came back to her chest, bringing with it an intense burning at the back of her eyes that she didn't even have the strength to stop the tears from trailing down her cheeks. Her heart felt like it was ripped apart, stepped on and torn in half (and she thought to herself that that wasn't even enough to truly describe the pain). A sound similar to a scream and a sob ripped from her throat, and she just broke down by his cold body, crying tears of bitter regret and sadness for the unfairness of it all.

They could've been happy.

Because clenched tight in his hand—stained with blood but still shining and glinting and painfully reminded her of a future that will never happen—was a gold ring.

notes: As if it wasn't sad enough that I killed him, I just had to pull the proposal-that-wouldn't-happen card.
notes2: Why do I keep writing these stories of Natsu dying and Lucy having to watch him die? Like, I don't hate them (in fact, I love them so much), but maybe my sadistic tendencies don't exempt my OTP.
notes3: I really don't know how this went as a whole because I wrote parts of it at different times.
notes4: Did I make you cry? (IhopeIdid)