Breathe

By: Piperholmes

A/N: Tag on to 1X08 (originally posted on Tumblr). Sorry it's so short.


"Has she come to take you?" Demelza wheezed, her body weak, tired, her fever fueling her delirium and nonsense.

"No," he breathed out. "No, my love, she will never take me."

His thumb continued to stroke her clammy, flushed cheek, his own body screaming with weariness, but he ignored it. There was a darkness that clung to him, an immovable sadness that felt like shattered glass in his heart, each breath, every thump of his heart, cut into him, reminding him of what he had lost. His lungs burned for air, and like a drowning man resigned to his fate, he took a deep breath expecting to choke.

"Ross?"

The quiet voice of his friend Dr. Enys called to him, but Ross merely shook his head to his unspoken question.

"Leave us," he croaked before hedging. "I…I just need…to…"

"Of course," Enys acknowledge easily before leaving as silently as he'd arrived.

There was nothing more they could do. Demelza would either pull through, or join her daughter.

"Please my love," he begged. "Don't leave me."

He stood only long enough to remove his boots and overcoat before lying down next to her. Her eyes opened for a moment, a lazy smile on her lips before she again slipped into a fitful sleep. He grabbed the wet cloth Elizabeth had been using and gently pressed against his wife's brow, then wiped down her cheek and neck. Again and again he applied the cool, wet cloth, quieting her confused mumblings with tender words of love.

He pressed his cheek against hers, frightened by her labored breathing.

"Demelza," he pleaded, her name an epitaph on his lips. He pressed her more fully against him. Her chest against his as he breathed in and out, in and out, in and out, until they breathed as one, slowly, deeply, in and out.

He didn't move, merely held her, breathing, giving what he could.

She gradually settled, falling into a deep. dreamless sleep, far from the demons that awaited her. His shirt grew damp where her hot skin pressed against him, but Ross merely continued to administer to her.

Finally, just before dawn, her fever broke and Ross slipped quietly from the bed to rouse Dwight, needing his friend to confirm that the crisis had past, that his wife, his Demelza, would soon return to him.

The relief left him limp, listless, and all he could do was sit next to her on the bed, both longing for and dreading when her clear blue green eyes would open and search for his. His hand gripped to her arm, his fingertips pressing into the pale skin of her wrist, clinging to the faint thump of her heartbeat.

Twice he found himself turning to check the tiny bed in the corner, ensuring Julia was safe and content, the engrained act of a father seeking reassurance, but he'd caught himself each time, his grip on Demelza's arm tightening as the reality of his loss sought to drag him down.

Her little bed would remain empty.

But under his fingers beat the steady tempo of the heart that matched his own.

Thanks for reading!