Days went by and his vitals were getting better, but he hadn't woken up yet. The nurses and doctors knew her by name since she was there every day. She was sitting in her usual chair working on a recipe for a remedy for an ailment that a stangebar had come to her with. She heard a groan and her eyes snapped up to Monroe. She watched as his eyes fluttered open. Her face broke out into a smile. He was awake. Then she realized that this was the end. She kept that thought to herself and smiled softly at him.

"Rosalee?" He asked looking up at him. She nodded.

"Hey. How do you feel?" She asked, brushing his hair away from his face.

"Like hell," he saw the marks on her face and throat. "Who did that to you?" He asked. She shook her head.

"Don't worry about me," she said. He brought his hands up to her face. There was a sad look in his eyes. It was guilt, shame and regret. She sighed. "Just let me take care of you," she said. He nodded. The doctor came in and smiled.

"So you're awake. Your friends just got here." Dr. Turner said. Nick, Hank, and Juliette walked in. They spoke for hours and then Monroe had fallen asleep. He was dismissed after a week and Rosalee had taken him home. Hank, Nick, and Juliette had cleaned up the house. They scrubbed all the blood out and fixed anything that had been broken in what looked like the fight of a lifetime. She helped him up to his room since he was on a cane for his left leg.

"You don't have to baby me," he said. She rolled her eyes. She sat him down on the bed and started to undo his shirt. She gasped when she his chest. It was purplish and she could see the gashes.

"I'm so sorry," she said. She moved to leave, but he grabbed her hand.

"Don't leave," he said. He didn't know what to do anymore. He could sense it in her that she wanted out. She was distant and barely touched him unless she had to.

"I can't stay, Monroe," she said. Monroe. She never called him that anymore. That's what his friends called him; she called him Eddie or Ed. He sighed and let her hand go.

"Can you tell me why?" He asked. "Why are you leaving me?" He asked. He knew it was all too good to be true.

"What do you mean why? We both know that this has to end. How can you even talk to me after what Connor did to you?" She asked. "He scared you permanently. He almost killed you," she said. She started crying again. "It's my fault. If I never started a relationship this wouldn't have happened," she explained.

"So you're going to leave?" He asked. He stood, carefully, and grabbed her hand again and pulled her closer. He leaned in so their lips were almost touching. "I don't blame you for anything. You leaving would kill me," he said. She broke down and kissed him softly. He held her to him, like it was the last thing he would do.

"I love you so much Eddie Monroe," she said. He grinned.

"And I love you Rosalee Calvert," he said. "How bad did Connor look?" He asked. She laughed.

"Like hell. You hurt him real good," she assured him. "I killed him and Angelina," she said quietly.

"Good. You deserved to kill them," he said. "I want you to move in here, permanently," he said, squeezing her hip with his good hand. She was shocked. Here she thought he was going to end things and he wanted her with him permanently.

"Are you sure?" She asked. She touched the scars on his face. He nodded.

"More sure than I've ever been," he said. She smiled.

"Then I'd love to." She said. He grinned and they both decided to sleep.

In the weeks that followed Monroe insisted Rosalee added her own touch to his house. The only place he didn't allow her in was the basement. Monroe had insisted that they have Hank, Juliette, and Nick over for dinner.

"Listen why don't you go out with Juliette and I'll take care of everything," he said. She was skeptical, but nodded.

"Alright," she said. He was getting around better and only needed the cane when he climbed stairs for balance. "If you need any help call me," she said.

"I will I promise," he said. He kissed her. "Have fun," he said as she left the house. About an hour after she had left Nick and Hank walked in. Monroe led them to the basement and the three men carefully carried Rosalee's grandfather clock up and placed it in the living room.

"She's going to cry." Nick said. Hank shrugged.

"It's a clock," he said. Monroe looked shocked.

"This is not just any clock. This is an original, well not anymore, but it used to be an original 1890's Hentschel from Germany," he said.

"So it's an old clock." Hank said.

"Antique, not old," he clarified. "I had to re-carve stuff, so it's not exact, but I hope she likes it," he said. He covered the clock and went into the kitchen. They finished cooking as the women came in. Everyone sat down and Monroe couldn't hide his nervousness. Rosalee looked at him.

"What is your problem?" She asked. Nick and Hank smirked. Juliette looked at them.

"This is why we can't leave them alone." She said. Monroe stood and went to the covered clock in the corner.

"I felt bad that your house was destroyed so I decided to fix this for you," he said as he slipped off the white cloth. Rosalee's jaw dropped.

"How did you…? I thought it was…" She couldn't complete a sentence. She went to the clock, caressing the wood and the carvings. They were almost exact, but smoother. Almost like he wanted it to be perfect for her.

"I tried to take out all the burnt wood, but to do that I would have to dismantle the whole thing and I didn't want to do that," he explained. She had silent tears streaming down her face.

"What is it you say about clocks?" She asked. He was confused for a second.

"Uh, that each clock has its own story," he said. She nodded, wiping the tears from her face.

"So our kids and grandkids will know about the fire and how you risked your life for me and fixed this clock," she said. Their friends just sat there with smiles.

"I like the sound of all that." Monroe said.

"It's just a clock." Hank whispered. Juliette kicked him under the table.

"Shut up, Hank," she whispered. The blutbad and fuchsbau didn't even notice the exchange. For once everything was perfect. They just smiled at each other. She hugged him.

"I plan on thanking you for this later," she whispered. He grinned and they sat down to finish their meal.

Later that night they lay pleasantly spent and sweaty. It was their first time since the attack. She turned on the lamp to see him.

"So do you really want kids?" Monroe asked. She smiled into his chest.

"I do. Is that okay?" She asked. He was lying on his back looking at the ceiling with a goofy smile on his face. She took his silence as a no. "We don't have to have kids," she said. She had always wanted kids but she would give it up for him. He looked down at her and lifted her chin so their eyes met.

"Kids sound like a great idea," he said. He leaned down and kissed her softly, like their first kiss at the shop.

"You're sure?" She asked. He nodded.

"I would love to have kids with you," he said. He turned onto his side and pulled her closer. "I'm not sure how it'll work with you being a fuchsbau and me a blutbad, but we'll figure it out," he said. She smiled.

"You're looks and my appetite," she said. He laughed. "When would like kids?" She asked, running her deft hands up his back.

"Let's start now," he whispered. He leaned over her and turned off the lamp.