"I don't know, Mur. I don't think it's that bad. I'm feeling fine. You were overreacting earlier, right, bear?"

"Yes, hon," said Zizi, beaming down on him with her warmest smile.

She looked just like had when they first met: a springy, 17-year-old with stars in her eyes and a skip to every step. She slowly caressed his forehead, but oddly as it was, he couldn't feel her warmth; the only thing he felt was a tinge of electricity running through his skin.

No matter, Zizi was with him again.

Was Zizi ever truly gone? Why had he been so sad lately? Henry felt he must've been mad for a second there.

"Now that I remember, bear, I owe you a dance. Remember, back at the party? You wanted to dance."

"...H...N..."

Zizi gave him the smallest of smiles with her full, glossy lips, nodding slightly while cocking her head to the right. "Of course I remember. I would love to dance. I love how you're playing the song from the first time we met. Remember how we danced all night, way back in the day?"

How could he ever forget? It was the perfect song for the perfect night. 

"...EN...Y..."

"A Kiss to Build a Dream On" by Louis Armstrong was playing softly in the background, the first song he ever danced with Zizi. She gave him a playfully seductive smile, taking a couple steps back while ruffling the hem of her dress. She literally looked the same as the day she met her. 

He wanted to get up, to embrace that nostalgic figure that saddened him so much for some reason, but as soon as he tried, he was pushed back down by an unknown force. He felt a pressure on his chest pinning him down to the table.

"H...RY!"

He tried to fight it, batting at it, pushing with all his might, to no avail. Suddenly, he felt as if fire itself was coursing through his veins, pulling at his chest like a fishing pole. 

"I think our time here is up, honey," said the smiling Zizi. 

A voice cut through the pain before Henry could say anything in edgewise. That, and a whole lot of water. 

"Henry!"

Murray was suddenly next to him, holding him back with all his heft.

"Henry, can you hear me?!" Murray yelled on his face, sending spit all over him. "Wake up, you fat bastard!"

"Jesus, Mur," said Henry, pushing him away. "I'm deaf, nor waterproof."

"The hell you mean, 'I'm not deaf'? You slipped away. I had to pump the formula bag to dilute the drug!"

That's where the burning sensation had come from. To his surprise, he was connected to an IV tube, leading up to an IV bag with a clear solution. One that he had seen countless times at work. That, and the sudden headache gave him a clear picture of what was happening. 

But that couldn't be. Why would it?

He looked at where Zizi stood a few seconds ago. She was still there, but her features were blurred beyond recognition. She was almost see-through.

As the haze and pain went away, the memories came flushing in. 

The accident. The mourning. The gift.

The cheating. 

His happiness faded away, leaving only his pain.

"You must be hypersensitive to the drug," chimed Murray, unaware of Henry's slow descent to sadness. "No biggie; happens to a quarter of all uses. We just gotta fix the dose a bit."

Murray released the drop valve on the IV bag to augment the dropping rate. He then injected a smaller amount of DayDream into the tube.

"Okay, Henry. Let's do this one more time. Describe to me the color of silence."

A current of pain seized Henry's back, making him squirm and thrash in pain as if electrocuted. 

"That ain't supposed to happen. Upping the solution."

The ever-present figure of Zizi slowly became more solid, and her features became more defined. She smiled, confused at Henry's look. The song had stopped playing a long time ago.

Zizi skipped over to Henry, caressing the back of his hand with her thumb; he felt the same electric tingle as before.

"What's wrong? Don't you wanna dance with me?" she said, teasing him.

"I...um..." was all he managed to say.

Murray picked that up. "What are you seeing? What's happening?"

"Eh... Zizi is in front of me. She wants me to dance with her. She is caressing my hand."

"Can you feel her? Does her touch feel like something to you?"

"Yes. Like electricity."

"Crap!" yelled Murray. "That ain't supposed to happen either. Upping the solution."

In a few seconds, he could not feel a thing.

"How 'bout now?"

"Back to normal, I guess," answered Henry.

"Lemme jot this down. Gonna send this data to the lab, you know, for reference." After tapping away at his cell phone, Murray continued, "Alright. Remember what we are doing here. Tell her it's time to talk, not to dance."

Yes, Henry remembered. The gift was for him to say goodbye, not to dwell in it. He had to let her go in order to start healing. To move on. 

But it was so hard with her lovely smile directed at him.

Henry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "This feels wrong, somehow. Can you give me a few minutes to...you know, enjoy her while she's here?"

Murray scoffed at him, tightening his grip on Henry's arm. "For fuck's sake. Here, I'll do it. Zizi! Sit down and listen!"

Zizi did as instructed, sitting down on a chair that appeared out of nowhere.

"I thought you of all people would have a better grasp on your subconscious, or your spine for that matter. I'm taking over."

Henry felt like yelling back at Murray, but he could only obey. It was as if a flip had been switched on the back of his mind that made him meek and compliant. He knew it was the effect of the drug and that Murray was right, but still, nobody yells at Henry White. He would remember that.

Taking Henry's silence as a sign of compliance, Murray continued, "Is there something you wanna say to her?"

Henry thought for a minute. He had so much to say. To say he was sorry. To yell and scream for forgiveness. To have some closure. But none of that came to mind. There is only one thing he wanted to say. 

"Bear, I miss you."

The youthful figure smiled as motherly warmth that engulfed his damaged heart. How long had he longed to see that smile again?

"I miss you too, hon. But now I'm right here. I'll always be."

Henry smiled. She was there. Alive. Loving. His. Always his. His treasure. His love. 

His. 

His. 

His.

"What did she say?" inquired Murray.

"She says she misses me too, and that she will always be here."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," muttered Murray in a panic. "Closure, Henry. Closure!" He placed both hands on Henry's arm, gripping to the point of whitening his knuckles. "Zizi, tell him it was not his fault and that you wish him to move on."

At his command, Zizi's face blinked out of existence for a second, appearing emotionless after a few seconds. "Bear, it was not your fault that I died. It was an accident. You have to move on. For me, please?"

Henry's throat closed on him. That was a lie and he knew it. In any other situation, he would have rolled with it, but now, he felt compelled to say the truth. To seek forgiveness. Redemption. It was time for truth.

Henry started to cry. "No...I... it was my fault. My entire fault. I cheated on you. I cheated on you almost every moment of our marriage with multiple women. It was my fault that you ran away. It was my fault you walked in on me and Linda. It was my fault that you had your attack. I am sorry. Please forgive me."

His tears clouded his vision. He was a sobbing mess; he even started to hiccup.

Zizi sat there, with a pleasant smile.

"Of course, honey. I forgive y-" 

Zizi went quiet mid-sentence. Her lips mouthed the words, but no sound came out of her. Her features rapidly distorted, with the rest of her body following suit.

A searing pain coursed through Henry's veins, accompanied by a pool of blood and clear liquid forming beneath his arm. He looked up at Murray, who was squeezing the IV bag with both hands. The unnatural pressure surrounding the room flushed out of Henry, leaving only his pain, both physical and emotional.

"Murray, what the fuck?!"

Murray let go of the bag, getting a hold of Henry's shoulders, shaking him violently. "What the hell did you say about you and Linda screwing and Zizi walking in?!"

He thought about it for a moment. Henry remembered he had not told Murray that piece of information.

"After the meeting, Linda and I went up to my room to have sex; while in the middle of it, Zizi walked in on us doing it. Afterward, she ran away."

Murray let go Henry, raising his hands up to his head. "Holy shit. You little fuck. It was your fault. Your entire fault. You let her see you fuck that bimbo? And the police are sniffing around now. Do you know how fucked things are?! It's your fault! Your fault! We are so fucked because you couldn't keep it in your pants!"

It was the first time that Henry saw Murray lash out like that. He wanted to stand up, or punch him, or tell him to get out of his house, but he still felt a little woozy from the drug.

"The hotel has tapes! God dammit. We gotta contain this. And talk to Linda and William. They know, too. If we don't plug this, we are done. If we get out of this, I swear I'll make your life a living hell. I need to make a few calls. I'll tell Jacob to clean this shit. Fuck!"

Murray stormed out of the room, not before roughly yanking the tube out of Henry's vein.

Henry felt his body go cold. Too much shit was happening to him at the same time. He had to make it up to Murray, if he even could. But the most important thing that was crossing his mind wasn't his crumbling friendship, or the fact that he was outed as the culprit. No, the only thing Henry White could think of was that he didn't get any closure.

He took a look at the half-opened briefcase. The IV bag was almost empty since most of it spilled onto the floor. The DayDream bottle was mostly full, however.

Henry groggily stood up from the chair, leaning over the briefcase.

"Sir, Mr. Prendergast sent me to clean up, would you excuse me for a minute while I dispose of the materials?" said Jacob, appearing out of nowhere.

In a moment of panic, Henry grabbed and pocketed the small bottle of DayDream. "Yes... yes, please come in. Dispose of this briefcase and clean up this mess. I will be in my room if you need me."

Jacob gave him a brief nod and proceeded to soak up the fluids with a rag. Henry went outside the room, patting down his pocket, making sure the bottle was secured. What was he thinking by sneaking around his own home? If he wanted to use DayDream, nobody would tell him he couldn't. 

And with that amount of drug left, he didn't have to say goodbye just yet. Maybe, just maybe, he could ask Zizi for forgiveness on his own terms.

He was going to have his closure, one way or another.

5 DAYS AFTER THE DISASTER