A/N You didn't really think that was the end, did you?

"There, look!"

"What?"

"She's twitching."

"She's still unconscious, Officer."

"No, I'm telling ya, she's… look! She's doing it again."

The hazy mutters washed over her like static from a radio. Erzsébet frowned. It was very annoying, really. She wanted to tell whomever it was to be quiet, but her mouth felt as if it was full of sand. Somewhere in the background she could hear the regular grating sound of a machine working. In, out. In, out.

"I think she's coming round. Should we get someone? A nurse?"

"Give her time."

"Erzsébet? Can ya hear me?"

The voices were gradually gaining clarity. As she focused on the words, Erzsébet realised that they were talking about her. The room beyond her eyelids seemed brighter and softer than before, so she let them flutter open. The world swam into view. She was lying on a stark white bed that she did not recognise, with a thin curtain drawn around. Two chairs were positioned beside her; Officers Mathias Kohler and Lukas Bondevik watched on expectantly.

"She's awake. Wooho!" Mathias punched the air in celebration, "Told ya, Lu."

Erzsébet tried to speak, then discovered that she couldn't. Hard plastic dug into her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, obstructing half of her face. Whenever she breathed, the rasp of machinery echoed to mimic her. In, out. In, out. An oxygen mask. Why was she wearing an oxygen mask? She fumbled with the strap, attempting to remove it, but Mathias stopped her.

"Woah, woah, not yet. Wait for assistance, will ya?"

Within a couple of minutes, a nurse arrived to remove the mask and check her blood pressure. Erzsébet sat up gingerly while he did so, overwhelmed with a sense of groggy confusion. She wanted to know why her chest felt compressed, and why there were bandages wrapped around her forearms, but she suspected that the answers would neither be pleasant, nor simple. Finally, the nurse left her alone with the officers. Erzsébet glanced around the enclosed area. There was a monitor screen by her bed, marking out her heart rate with steady, squiggly lines. The potent scent of hospital disinfectant filled her nostrils.

"The nurses didn't want us here at first," Mathias said, "Didn't want us questioning a patient. So I told 'em we were yer friends too, then they didn't seem to mind so much."

Lukas clicked his tongue. "It is not professional to make friends with clients."

"And it's not professional to date colleagues either. But hey, who can blame ya for stepping out of line?"

"You have no idea how annoying you are, do you?"

Erzsébet ignored them and cautiously examined her arms. Her hands were uninjured—barring a cannula to supply sedative— but there was an uncomfortable searing sensation underneath the arm bandages. "Why am I here?" she asked. Her tongue felt thick and woolly.

"You've been treated for second-degree burns and minor smoke inhalation," said Lukas.

"Oh."

The officer scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I take it you don't remember anything about what happened?"

Erzsébet cast her mind back through the sea of clouded images. "There was a fire… I think."

"There was."

"I sent Feliciano into the Big Top— before the fire, that is. He was going to call you, and I think I was going to provide a distraction," Suddenly, she found herself gripped with regret. "Oh God, I should have gone instead. Why did I let him go? It was so dangerous…"

"It's cool, he's safe. Out cold, but safe," Mathias said, "Emergency services got his call in enough time to get ya outta there, though it was a close-run thing."

The news should have come as a reassurance, but Erzsébet couldn't shake off the sick, nagging feeling that she had forgotten something important. Fragmented memories leapt through her mind; piercing screams, acrid lungfuls of smoke, the tent ceiling swallowing up all that lay below… she suppressed a violent shudder.

Lukas pulled a notebook from his jacket pocket and flipped it open, "On the phone, Mr Vargas described a hostage situation, and named Alfred and Matthew Bonnefoy-Kirkland as the perpetrators. Do you know anything about that?"

"They're twins. And… and murderers," Little by little, the information was returning to her, prompting a fresh wave of anger. "It wasn't Lars, it was them. They killed Feliks, Gilbert, the children. Everyone."

"Why?"

Erzsébet screwed up her eyes. Now this was more difficult… something about eight years ago? "I think their parents died. An accident. They were looking for people to blame."

"And they thought they could blame kids?" Mathias blurted out.

"No. No, not them…" The sedatives she'd been administered were beginning to have a soporific effect. Erzsébet wished the officers would leave her in peace. "Peter and Charlotte… found out somehow. Weren't killed for revenge, killed for silence."

Lukas noted something down. "So what happened to them? These twins?"

"Yeah!" Mathias said, "Where the fuck are they now?"

"Ran away. Started the fire, then they fled," said Erzsébet. Again she couldn't help but feel as if she was missing out a crucial detail. They'd been in the Big Top when it happened… what were they doing there…?

Mathias smiled grimly. "Then we'll need support. Let's contact headquarters straight away. The shitheads won't be allowed to get away with this."

"Eloquent as ever," Lukas made another record, then snapped his notebook closed. "Alright, thanks for your help. We might need to question you again, and you'll probably be called to an inquiry with the other witnesses, but we need to contact our colleague first."

Erzsébet started to nod, then stopped abruptly. Her heart froze. The other witnesses. Of course. Just like that, all missing pieces came flooding back, stunning and engulfing her. Roderich and Ludwig tied to chairs… Roderich's clammy hand slipping from her own… Roderich crumpling beneath the burning canopy…Oh God…

Her hands tightened around the bed sheets until her knuckles turned white. Suddenly, she felt wide awake. "The others. What happened to them? Are they okay?" she said.

There was an awful hesitation before Lukas responded, "Ludwig Beilschmidt is also being treated here, in the same room as Feliciano Vargas. He's conscious, but in too much shock to talk."

"And Roderich?" Erzsébet asked. She was already dreading the answer. "Where's Roderich Edelstein?"

Lukas and Mathias exchanged glances. Their expressions were guilty, pitying, and said more than any words could. Panic slapped Erzsébet around the face, leaving her breathless. Her insides were rapidly turning to lead. No…

"What happened to him?" Her voice was so shrill she barely recognised it, "Tell me! Tell me he isn't… isn't…"

"Calm yerself, he's still alive," Mathias said quickly, "It's just he's… ahhh…"

"He's what?" demanded Erzsébet. The feeling in her legs was gradually returning, but she remained so apprehensive that everything felt dizzy. There was something they were avoiding telling her. If Roderich wasn't dead, what was it?

"The damage that Mr Edelstein suffered was considerably worse than everyone else's," said Lukas, "He's being treated for smoke inhalation and severe burns in a separate, more intensive ward. It's a miracle that he's even alive."

Erzsébet relaxed her hands and took a deep, stabilising breath. She glanced between the heart monitor, the sedative drip, and the hideous medical gown tied around to her body, blinking back tears. God, how she hated hospitals.

"Let me see him." she said.

…

The doctor led the way to the Intensive Care Unit, striding down corridors with sickly yellow wallpaper and forgettable landscape paintings. Wringing her hands impatiently, Erzsébet walked beside her. Her fingers rubbed against the piece of cotton wool taped over where her cannula had been. The nurses had forced her to wait half an hour for her sedative drip to run through before she could visit Roderich. Every second had been torture.

"May I ask how you and the patient are acquainted?" the doctor asked, "Is he a relative, perhaps?"

Erzsébet stuttered on her reply. "He's…" He's a haughty, aristocratic snob. He's my whole world. "He's a friend."

"And the two of you are close, are you?"

"Yes."

"I see…" Her tone was somehow too sympathetic, as if she had guessed the meaning behind Erzsébet's words.

They came to a stop by a soap dispenser attached to a vast set of double doors. Erzsébet waited for the doctor to sanitise her hands, and then did the same. Her body felt weary from the medication, but anxiousness kept her mind fully alert.

"This will be quite a shock for you," the doctor said, pushing the door open, "Please try to remain calm if you can."

Suppressing her fear, Erzsébet nodded, and followed her into the unit. Immediately she flinched as her eardrums were assaulted by the frightening sound of beeps and alarms. Two rows of beds stretched down the bay, some enclosed with curtains, others not. Erzsébet tried to keep her eyes away from the groaning patients and the nurses crowding around them, affixing wires and tubes to their bodies. The strong chemical smell was even more unpleasant than before.

"Roderich Edelstein is on Bed Number Eight. I'll leave you alone with him," said the doctor, "And… I truly am sorry, Miss."

Erzsébet barely heard the condolence. Already she was rushing down the aisle, pulse thrumming in her ears. Bed Number Eight… Bed Number Eight… The stressful environment was not doing anything to help her nerves. Arriving at the designated number, she tore the curtain back straight away. Then she recoiled with a gasp.

Roderich lay unconscious on the mattress, his features pale, a ventilation tube over his mouth, and cables emerging from underneath the gown covering his torso. One side of his face was undamaged. The other was not. Horrific, bumpy red scars crept over his skin, starting at the top of his left forehead and spreading all the way down. The result was a mass of grotesque, wounded tissue— so thick and so prominent that it almost looked like an engraving.

Erzsébet felt pain lance through her chest. Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn't this. She didn't know how to react. For a while, she stood immobilised until she could hardly bear waiting and watching and feeling for a moment longer. The awful, awful scarring seemed to leer back, taunting her.

An unknown voice spoke from behind; probably one of the nurses, "There are further burns on his chest and the lower half of his legs. All third-degree."

Erzsébet could not tear her eyes away from Roderich. She fought to find her voice. "They're not going to heal, are they?"

"No. I'm afraid that he'll have these scars for the rest of his life."

The revelation should have been shocking. Instead, Erzsébet merely felt numb. "Is… is he going to live?" she managed to breathe.

"His condition is stable enough," said the nurse, "Although he's lucky to be with us. He must have a powerful guardian angel out there."

A prickling sensation rose up Erzsébet's throat and stung her eyes. Not powerful enough. After all, could it be partly due to her that Roderich was so badly injured? Wasn't she the one who had lost control, prompting Alfred and Matthew to snap? Wasn't she the one who had accidently abandoned Roderich when he most needed her? The thought heaved inside her; a physical ache. All she had wanted to do was protect him… had she failed?

A second voice sounded, calm and quiet, "Do you need a moment outside?"

She shook her head. "Just… give me some time with him."

Once she was sure the nurses had gone to attend to another patient, Erzsébet moved closer to Roderich's bed, and drew the curtain around. There were no chairs, so she knelt down beside him, telling herself that this was not as scary as it looked. Roderich's chest rose and fell evenly, and the unfriendly monitors around him were displaying consistent figures. He even looked peaceful in his sleep. Careful not to brush the burns, she lifted a quivering hand to stroke his hair. His dark, gorgeous locks fell through her fingers like velvet, bringing another pang of emotion. She had forgotten how reassuring it felt to touch him like this. How comfortable and wonderful and right, even in the midst of this shock.

Erzsébet continued fondling Roderich's hair in reverent silence. It was difficult to ignore the scars, but the longer she stared at them, the more she came to discover that they didn't bother her as much as she had expected. They were highly disturbing, but Roderich possessed an innate elegance that shone through all blemishes. He was still so beautiful— with his slender form and his eyes like violets— still so unbearably handsome. Besides, why should it matter what Roderich looked like? He was going to live. She had almost lost him, but he was going to live. In comparison to that miraculous, striking fact, why should anything matter? All of a sudden, Erzsébet was struck with the impulse to connect to him in any way she could.

"Hello, Roderich," she said softly. Her voice was predictably choked. "I know you can't hear me, but… I want to tell you a few things while I can."

The regular chime of hospital equipment was her only response. Erzsébet carefully lay her other hand on Roderich's damaged chest and carried on, "I… I'm sorry I let go of your hand. It w—was stupid and thoughtless and I'll never regret anything more. I'm sorry that you're now in so much pain… be—because of me…" She faltered slightly, pausing to swallow back her heartache. Logically, she knew she was being silly. She knew that what had happened was not her fault, and that there was no way Roderich would ever blame her. Yet it still felt better to have said it.

"I also want you to know that it's all over— really over, this time," she continued, "We did it. Feliks and Gilbert would…well, I'm sure they'd be proud. It also means that we're not in danger any more. Everyone's safe." A fierce shudder ran through her body, intense as electricity.

"There's something else you should know too. Your scars…" She shook her head, struggling to express exactly what she felt. "They might bother you, but they don't bother me, drágám. They'll just take some getting used to, that's all. I still think you're gorgeous. I still desire you with every inch of my being. I still want your lips on mine, and your body against my skin, and…" she trailed off, cheeks reddening. Shit… she'd gone a bit too far there. Erzsébet was embarrassed to discover that she was actually slightly aroused.

"Well… you, um, get the idea with that," she said, giggling shakily, and praying that there weren't any nurses nearby. Thankfully the monitors were probably blaring loudly enough to drown out her murmurs. Feeling cramp beginning to settle in her legs, Erzsébet shifted her position until her chin was almost resting on the crisp hospital bedcovers. Then, she took Roderich's limp hand in her own.

"One other thing. I want you to know that I've been thinking about what Vash told me. That you don't care about anyone. That you'd end up… breaking my heart. I've had a lot of time to consider his words." She squeezed Roderich's hand, and lowered her voice to an ardent whisper. "And I don't believe them. How could I? You may seem inconsiderate, but when you're with me, you're such a gentleman. You may seem superior, but when you're with me, you're so insecure. You came into my life at the darkest possible moment, and yet… y—you managed to give me so much hope."

Erzsébet finally came to a stop, feeling as though a hand was squeezing her insides. This was it. She had officially rejected all warnings, all excuses. She had finally given in to honesty. And it had left her positively aching with longing all over. Unable to control herself, she buried her head into Roderich's neck. Her damp eyelashes fluttered against his bare skin, and when she breathed, the soothing, irresistible scent of Roderich Edelstein overpowered her. Erzsébet sighed deeply, contentedly. She had never felt a stronger sense of belonging than now.

"So I guess what I've been trying to say, Roderich, what I've really been trying to say," Her lips quivered against his collarbone, barely a whisper. "Is that if you truly want me, I'm yours."

To be continued soon...

Surprise! Turns out this story isn't quite over after all. Sorry for attempting to trick you all, although judging by some of the comments, a lot of you didn't really believe it anyway. Apologies too for keeping you in suspense for longer than usual.

Obviously the main plotline in the story is more-or-less over now, but there'll be a few more chapters just to tie up some loose ends and such.

After last chapter, I've been flooded with wonderful reviews and messages of support and appreciation. Readers, you never fail to stun me with these. Once again, thank you all so, so much.