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Xu Xu sat by his bedside and watched his face; she didn’t watch the heart monitor, with its steady ups and downs, or the television, turned on to some drama or another. The doctors said the noises might encourage brain activity; Xu Xu wasn’t entirely certain the drama wouldn’t wipe out what activity there was.
Ji Bai’s face didn’t change, no matter how long she watched it. As had become her custom over the last week, when ten minutes had passed with no reaction, Xu Xu pulled out her sketchbook and began to draw. It was a different sketchbook than the one she had used to document her slow fall into love with her captain; that one was still missing somewhere. If she thought about it, sometimes her heart ached at the memories she had lost.
Still, between the two, the sketchbook and Ji Bai, she’d rather have her friend back; sketchbooks were only paper and ink, after all. Perhaps he would want to know that.
“I’m not angry with you that you threw me off the train, you know. It was entirely reasonable given the circumstances. I was a little overwrought. I hope when you wake up you still have full use of your ears.” She smiled at her book. “My mother always told me I have a loud voice when I scream, and I am sure that I screamed at you as loud as I could.
“If you will forgive me for screaming at you, I will forgive you for losing my sketchbook.” Xu Xu drew the shell on the snail; the little creature crawled along the ground, much leaner and faster than it had been when she first set it loose on the page.
“They released Po from the hospital to jail today while he waits for his trial. The Myanmar government has washed their hands of him. They don’t want to deal with his drug running and murder when they have their own problems.” Xu Xu frowned down at the little pig, cooking something on the stove. “It seems somewhat irresponsible to me, but I do not run a country.”
She continued her one-sided conversation for almost an hour before her voice petered off and her hand stopped moving. Xu Xu ripped a page out of her book and put it on the bedside table; she brushed her fingers along the back of Ji Bai’s hand, in the waiting hush of the hospital room, and walked out the door.
Behind her, on the bedside table, the lion watched the sunrise next to the snail.
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Zhao Han was in charge while the Captain was in a coma; the office, including Zhao Han, hoped both those states of affairs would be brief. The force was down by two, with Yao Meng still in therapy and out of fully active duty and with Ji Bai in the hospital. It felt empty in the office, nowadays. They caught one murderer that week anyway, and only four days after he had struck; Zhao Han would receive a commendation. Still, everything was a little tense. Tempers ran short.
Xu Xu found herself running more and more on her own as one week turned to two, to three. She had finished her first 15 mile run before Myanmar, and now she ran down the roads and parks of Lin City as if wolves were behind her. She didn’t allow herself to think that she was running from her problems, from a job that felt bleaker than she remembered and people who were much closer to the edges of their tempers. Monkey swam laps and boxed; Zhao Han sparred with Yao Meng. Xu Xu ran. Sometimes she would pretend Ji Bai was with her. She had hoped, when she had let herself hope, that after Myanmar, after everything with the Golden Python was finished, perhaps she and Ji Bai would run together at sunrise, that it would be their custom.
It seemed more and more that their customs would have nothing to do with running and everything to do with a hospital room echoing with only hollow breath.
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Xu Xu stared at her book, ignoring the news on the tv. The news was only vaguely better than the dramas.
“We caught that human trafficker, Ji Bai. You would be pleased. Zhao Han is giving a good showing in his temporary position.” She peered at his face, then went back to outlining the medal the hippo was receiving.
“I do not think he enjoys it, though. Make sure you come back soon so you can relieve him of your odious duties. You should not be lying down on the job.” Xu Xu moved her hand, to where the pig was standing next to the hippo, even prouder than he was at his success. “Yao Meng has been reinstated. Zhao Han decided not to wait any longer, since you are still asleep. She and Zhao Han are very happy, I think, and they are both pleased that Uncle Zhao has returned.”
Perhaps not entirely pleased. If Zhao Han was not angry and confused at his father’s return, Xu Xu would return her degrees. She told Ji Bai this, and then provided her evidence. “Of course, it is only logical, to start, but I met Zhao Han while I was out running yesterday morning. He was running ten miles, and you know he does not like long distance. He is trying to clear his head, to release some of his anger.
“I know that feeling. We both do, Captain. The pounding on the pavement helps us think.” She flipped a page, and began to sketch a lion, charging down the sidewalk; her movements were smooth and practiced. She had drawn a lion many times before.
“I think-“ She hesitated. “I think I would like to run a marathon.” She glanced at Ji Bai. If something was going to wake him up, that outrageous statement had as good a chance as any. He did not twitch, and she went back to her sketch. “I really do not need too much more time, only a month or two to train, and the Lin City Marathon is coming up. Perhaps you will be awake to tease me about my times.”
Perhaps running more, running longer, would get the taste of this hospital room out of her throat.
This time, the drawing she left was of the snail, looking toward the finish line.
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Xu Xu threw herself into training for the marathon, running more than forty miles a week for more than two months. Ji Bai did not wake in all that time, but Xu Xu left her training notes, and drawings from the days at work, in his room. When he woke up, he would have a lot to catch up on.
The longer she ran, the more it felt like a “when he wakes” and not an “if”. There was something clean about running into the sunrise, from the moments before dawn where the air was grey and electric and the bugs and plants rustled in the wind, to the time once the sun was up and the new day had arrived. Xu Xu decided that it must be that hope was a contagious beast; she could not live in the sunrise every morning and not leave from it refreshed, with the birds singing and the cool air stinging on her arms and her mind at peace, even for a little while.
She thanked her captain often, in person and in her mind, for giving her this gift.
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When the day of the marathon came, she ran her race with confidence. It wasn’t easy, but it was a familiar difficulty; and when she had received her medal, she went to the hospital.
“You know, I had thought about giving you this medal.” Xu Xu stared down at the finisher’s medal in her lap. “But I don’t think I want to. I finished the race for myself, and I think it will be good to remember that my world will keep on turning as long as the sun rises.” She smiled at the man on the bed.
“I drew you a version though. You may keep it or not, when you wake up. I think you would be proud of me. I’m proud of me.” Xu Xu placed the faithful replica of the medal on the table, on top of the hefty stack of paper already there; she had gone through three more sketchbooks since Ji Bai took up residence here. “Zhao Han asked Yao Meng to marry him, you know. He might have already told you. I know he comes to chat with you too. He asked her last week. Try and wake up for the wedding, will you? It’s soon. I think he wants to make sure Uncle Zhao will be there for it.
“I suspect he has moved on from most of his anger and is now afraid that he is just not good enough to keep his father around. He fears abandonment, and he is frustrated by his fear.” She glanced at her captain, up from her sketch of the pig giving a badger a mean look. “Yao Meng is trying to get along with Uncle Zhao, but I don’t think she likes what this has done to Zhao Han. It is a little bit messy all around, but families usually are.
“Of course, this is intuition, Captain. You may disregard it as you please.” She drew only for a little while before her hunger drove her to leave in search of food. Before she left, Xu Xu straightened the stack of paper on the bedside, looked for a long moment at the rendition of the medal on top, and smiled.
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The last visit Xu Xu made to Ji Bai’s hospital room was three days before Yao Meng and Zhao Han’s wedding. This time, her sketchbook was taken up with drawings of cake and decorations, flowers and dresses. “You are running late, Captain. You will never live it down if you miss Zhao Han’s wedding. You will have to take him to lunch every day for a year, I’m sure.”
Xu Xu looked at Ji Bai, but, as had become so familiar over the last few months, he did not move. He would tease her again one day, she was sure, but waiting was never easy. “General Po has been sentenced to life in a high-security prison. The news came on Wednesday. He was the last of the gang that we had caught to be sentenced.”
Xu Xu stared at the large, unhappy snake captured in a cage, and then deliberately turned the page of her sketchbook. “I am happy he is gone.”
When she left that day, Xu Xu did not leave a new drawing. She dug through the papers on the bedside table, past the medal and the training journals, past portraits of a hippo receiving medal after medal with a pig by his side, until she reached the bottom, where a lion and a snail looked toward the sunrise.
She left it on top.
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Xu Xu stared at the man she loved, who had returned her old sketchbook and was not at all looking like he had spent the last several months in a hospital bed. She opened the book to avoid crying on him immediately, and almost started anyway. He had laminated the torn pages back together, had rebuilt her drawings, except for-
“I looked everywhere, but I still couldn’t find this piece. So I thought…” he trailed off, and Xu Xu looked up. “Perhaps I can give you my answer.” His smile was gentle, and Xu Xu felt that her heart couldn’t be contained in her ribcage anymore.
When he gestured her closer, she closed the book and went, walked forward on tenterhooks and waited for his answer.