A/N : Just wanna pop in and give a big THANK YOU to you guys, for always hanging in there with me. I really appreciate it.

Chapter 27

Forget-Me-Not

Six days after the operation, the doctor finally determined the time was right to wake Ivan up.

Everyone had been so out in space, so lost, that neither of them had been entirely aware that Christmas had come and gone. It had been the day Gilbert had come to drag Alfred into his ranks, in fact, and Alfred had realized it later. What could he say to Ludwig? 'Merry Christmas! Your gift is that your brother is finally going to let me in the family. But the catch is you have to watch your husband die and can't be near him.'

As bad as it was, Alfred wished that he was back in time with Gilbert sliding him a gun. Things had been much less confusing back then.

Now, two days later, there was a call.

Alfred had been lying in bed despondently that morning when Ludwig's phone started ringing before the sun had risen. Ludwig was on it in a second, rolling over right on top of Alfred in order to grab it up. Instinctively, Alfred embraced Ludwig around the waist to keep him from toppling right off of the bed, as Ludwig put it to his ear and breathed, huskily, "Hello?"

Alfred just stared up at Ludwig with a bit of alarm, as every possible emotion seemed to flit over Ludwig's face. Alfred clung to him, tightly, and it was sad in some way because he missed having Ludwig like this in his arms.

Everything had fallen apart.

After a minute, Ludwig rumbled, "I'll be there immediately. Thank you."

Ludwig cut the call, looked anxious and yet elated, and he suddenly turned his eyes down to Alfred, smiled, pressed forward, and kissed him upon the forehead.

"The doctor is going to bring Ivan out of the coma today."

...yeah. Great.

Alfred opened his arms up and let Ludwig go without a word, Ludwig was bustling about to get dressed, and Alfred pulled himself upright, swung his legs over, and stared away at the wall.

How had he ever gotten into this mess?

It was a stark contrast, Ludwig's utterly hectic and excited motions, as Alfred sat there lethargic and dazed and numb on the edge of the bed. Alfred had brought Ludwig back into life, back from that dark, and now Ludwig was in the light as Alfred started sinking.

The problem was that Ludwig could only see Ivan now, and didn't notice Alfred's head beneath the waves.

Ludwig stalked back and forth, out of sorts, too jittery to really focus. He pulled on a shirt, buttoned it up crookedly, pulled on pants but forgot his belt, his socks didn't match, and when he darted frantically to the bedroom door to god knew where, his pants started slipping down and he tripped over them, slamming forehead first into the door.

Alfred rolled his eyes, stood up, and went over to Ludwig, who was cursing and wriggling back into his pants. Alfred grabbed a belt from the dresser, and tossed it over. Ludwig smiled over at him, breathlessly, and it would have been pretty if Alfred hadn't felt so sick.

Ludwig was acting like a little kid whose mother had just told him they were going to go get a puppy, had that same elated air about him, and Alfred tried damn hard to not let it get the better of him.

Ludwig had every right to be this way.

Alfred had seen Ludwig light up, sure, had seen him playful and happy and silly, but he couldn't say that he had ever seen Ludwig like this. Seemed that there was an entire spectrum of emotions and moods that only Ivan could ever really get out of Ludwig, and Alfred supposed that it would always be that way until Ivan was gone. Ludwig couldn't really divide his love equally, and Alfred was starting to realize that there wasn't anything he could do that would ever make Ludwig stop glancing at Ivan.

Gilbert's task seemed harder and harder every day.

Whatever means, Gilbert had said. What, did he expect Alfred to just grab Ludwig's wrist, give him a slap, sit him down, and say, 'You're not going to the hospital again'? Was that what he wanted? In hindsight, Alfred figured it actually was.

Wasn't gonna happen.

Alfred could have dominated Ludwig, could have used his strength to prevent Ludwig from leaving this house, but then he was really just becoming everything he had tried hard to protect Ludwig from, and that wasn't who Alfred ever wanted to be.

Maybe he should have guilted Ludwig into staying. Say, outright, that Ludwig had given himself over to Alfred, and that he had Ivan were no longer a couple, despite the lack of Ivan's signature on those papers. Reminded Ludwig that Ludwig had committed to Alfred, had said those words, and therefore Alfred had the right to demand he stay here.

Alfred had the right to tell Ludwig he couldn't go to the hospital.

But he didn't, because he was terrified of Ludwig hating him.

Whatever means.

Alfred glanced, subconsciously, towards the upstairs bedroom, but shook it quickly off. That ring wasn't coming out, not now, even though doing so would have been the power play he really needed to do as Gilbert told him and keep control of Ludwig. Ludwig couldn't have said 'no', and Alfred would be secure, but, oh man...

He couldn't stand thinking about how Ludwig would have cried when he was alone. That awful, fake smile as Ludwig once more burnt out.

This really was an impossible task, and Alfred kept his eyes low as he followed bouncing Ludwig to the hospital.

Kiku was smiling when he saw Ludwig coming, and was quick to reach out, place his hand on Ludwig's back, and lead him along cheerily. Kiku and Ludwig seemed to have developed a rather odd sort of camaraderie, as they both cared immensely for the same man. Kiku's hair was neat today, combed and parted, dark mottled with grey, and he was dressed nicely, too, the tie visible under his coat.

As if Kiku were almost as excited as Ludwig was, somehow, and Alfred was the cranky stick-in-the-mud, trailing behind them gloomily.

Kiku liked Ludwig, but didn't seem to care for Alfred, and Alfred wondered if it was because Kiku was a little offended that Ludwig's 'bodyguard' was still lurking about, when Kiku had worked damn hard to crawl into Ivan's brain and rewire him. Perhaps Alfred's presence was an unintentional insult to his very work itself.

Alfred could hear them speaking gently to each other.

"Are you excited?"

"I'm nervous," Ludwig replied, and it was true because Alfred could see his hands shaking.

"That's normal. Let's just hope for the best. Anyway, a man who could survive odds like that has to be lucky, right? It'll be alright. Everything from here on is smooth sailing."

Yeah, right! Smooth, his ass. This was the very definition of rough seas.

Not knowing, in the end, who Ludwig would choose to stand by when everything was said and done.

Oh, god, it was the worst thought he had ever had, the most selfish, the most terrible, the most cruel, but god help him if the worst part of Alfred didn't kinda hope, deep down, that Ivan would just go quietly and soon.

He was already an awful person, and tried to push that thought away, tried to pretend that he didn't really mean it, but it always lingered there.

He wanted Ludwig, so badly, and if Ivan responded to the treatment and miraculously pulled through, then Alfred was done for. Didn't stand a chance at all if Ivan somehow survived this ordeal. And even if Ivan only did make it another five years, then Ludwig would be at his side those five years and Alfred would be on the backburner, forced to wait until a better man died so that he could have the sad remains.

Christ.

If Alfred couldn't summon up the will to obey Gilbert, to be forceful, to be stern and unbending, then he would lose Ludwig.

Kiku was murmuring away to Ludwig, spurring him on, and Alfred was steadily realizing that Kiku was acting that way because Kiku was Ivan's doctor, and knew well this case. Kiku knew of the pending divorce, of everything Ivan had done. Kiku knew everything, except the one major important detail that now played a huge factor :

Alfred and Ludwig were together.

Kiku didn't know that, and was acting in a manner that suggested he was extremely confident in Ivan's sudden personality change. Kiku, the little jerk, seemed to enjoy the thought of Ludwig falling back into Ivan's arms. Naturally, Kiku would want anything that helped Ivan, because Kiku had a duty to Ivan as his doctor to do everything possible to help him pull through, and even dumb Alfred knew that Ludwig was imperative to Ivan's survival.

Alfred glanced up at Kiku, and wished he had been brave enough to pull him aside and say, 'Hey, that's my boyfriend you're trying to set up. Knock it off.'

He didn't gather the courage, and stayed silent.

Alfred had been loud and assertive and aggressive throughout his entire life, and now, when he most needed that, he stayed quiet. Stayed quiet, because he had always felt that everything he did was in the right, but this time that wasn't so clear for him to see.

...was he the bad guy here? He wasn't.

Ivan was still the bad guy.

Alfred glanced up, as Kiku smiled and leaned into Ludwig's side, whispering away.

That dread in his chest was always rising.

When they walked into the room, the first thing Kiku did was to get Ludwig's attention, and say, firmly, "First! Let's go over what you should expect."

Ludwig nodded, bravely as always, and seemed so determined. Ready.

"He's probably going to have a great deal of memory loss. His motor skills may be impeded. He'll probably be confused. He might say or do strange things. He's going to be a little loopy, as you can imagine, after nineteen hours of someone poking around in his brain. So just be ready for that, alright? That aside, I would prefer if we keep all conversation very light. On the chance he is a little lucid, I would rather have him with as little stress as possible for now. Let's not talk about the diagnosis, nor any pending legal activities. Deal?"

Ludwig nodded obediently, hands shaking nervously.

"Today probably won't be so great, but come tomorrow he should be far more aware. I imagine tomorrow is when we'll sit down with him and explain to him what's going on. For now, for today, just take it easy, alright?"

Ludwig nodded again, and Kiku turned his eyes to Alfred, gaze once more uninterested.

Felt as if the world had just sank under the waves, but Alfred finally exhaled and nodded in agreement.

That was that.

Ludwig sat down, grabbed Ivan's big hand, and Kiku began fiddling around, saying, so easily, "I can't say how long it will take him to wake up. But I imagine within the next few hours."

Ludwig hunkered down, leaned forward to rest his elbows on the bed, gripping Ivan's hand then between both of his own, and it was very easy to see that he was ready to settle down for the long haul. Kiku could have said, 'He'll wake up anywhere from tomorrow to the next eight years', and Ludwig would have dutifully sat there every damn day to wait regardless.

Alfred had promised to stand by Ludwig, whatever happened, but Ludwig had promised Ivan, many years ago, to love and honor him, in sickness and in health, and that promise was being fulfilled in some way then.

Ivan had promised Ludwig many things, too, no doubt, and Ludwig waited eagerly now to see how many of them Ivan planned on keeping.

Alfred's eyes kept falling to Ludwig's neck, and he couldn't put into words how much that really hurt, knowing now that two rings rested there on that chain hidden beneath Ludwig's sweater.

Kiku finished up, leaned down over Ludwig and whispered something in his ear, Ludwig smiled, and Alfred might have glared at Kiku a little when he took his leave.

Jerk.

Time passed, far too slowly, and Alfred sat in the chair in the corner, crossed one leg over the over, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared irritably at the white wall.

Hated the smell of this place.

He tried to zone out, as Ludwig sometimes rested his chin on the bed next to Ivan's head, clearly whispering to him. Tried to go somewhere else, to a different place that wasn't as painful, but that backfired on him far too much because his overactive imagination got the better of him.

He just saw Ludwig and Ivan, as they perhaps once had been.

Knowing now how sick Ivan really was changed so much of what Alfred had had in his head during Ludwig's many stories. He still didn't know Ivan, had never met the real one, and so he envisioned what could have been.

It was stupid, but no matter how hard Alfred tried to shake it, he just kept seeing what might have been if Ivan had never gotten sick :

That house, a marital home, warm and loving, Ivan playing the piano as snow fell outside and Ludwig curled up on the couch, watching him fondly. Ludwig cooking, and Ivan instead of Alfred coming up behind him to kiss his neck and irritate him. Perhaps, even...

Once, Ludwig had said that Ivan had been very willing to adopt a potential heir to Gilbert's legacy, and that was the worst image he had of the lot.

Ivan and Ludwig making a quaint little family, as family-man Ivan no doubt had always wanted. Adopting. Some little kid somewhere that had no one else, maybe a kid like Alfred that hadn't fallen through the cracks and had been taken away, having his first normal Christmas. Ludwig doting and mending clothes as Ivan roughhoused and made stupid little paper satellites or whatever the fuck he made, making some kid smile when no one else ever had. Ludwig and that kid smiling widely as they mischievously leapt upon Ivan's back during a pushup. Huge Ivan scooping both of them up in either arm to show off as he carted them about the house while chattering. Parents. Ivan, fearless and protective. Ludwig, caring and clever. Maybe it would have been those two, at long last, that broke the circle, that ended the abuse. Maybe that kid that they would have chosen would have been the first of that sacred line to grow up happy.

Hurt.

It was pointless to think of what could have been.

Here they were now, and Ivan was never going to live out his domestic dream, so why bother pondering over it? Even if Ivan woke up now and was suddenly back to normal, if he suddenly became a 'good man' once more, then so what? He still wouldn't have that dream, because too much had been done, and even if somehow Ludwig and Ivan reunited, right now, it didn't matter because Ivan was still going to die.

Alfred was making himself sick, and tried hard to shake it free of his mind.

Dreams died and withered away every damn day, because the world was a cruel place, and this was just one more broken illusion. Very few people got that elusive happy ending, and Ivan was another person whose fairytale had taken a wrong turn.

An hour or so later, Toris came slinking inside the room, carrying a small briefcase and dressed very neatly. Ready for business from the look of him, hair perfectly tied back, neatly shaved, and Ludwig lit up when he saw him. Ludwig sat up, smiling away, and was quick to breathe, "Toris! I didn't think you would come."

Alfred was highly suspicious, naturally, as his eyes fell to the briefcase at Toris' side.

What the hell was this creep up to?

Toris smirked, set the briefcase down, crossing his arms as he leaned up against the wall, and drawled, "You have such little faith in me. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Ludwig beamed, but Alfred could see that his eyes were flitting over to the door very frequently, and Alfred knew that Ludwig was hoping Gilbert would come walking in.

Never did.

Ludwig loved Gilbert, admired him, worshipped him, and Gilbert never came.

Alfred stared away at that briefcase, stared and stared, as Ludwig turned his attention back to Ivan, and then Toris met Alfred's eyes. Alfred, caught under that gaze, suddenly inhaled, heart racing and feeling a strange mix of fury and elation.

Somehow, someway, Alfred knew what was in that briefcase :

The divorce papers.

Toris wasn't here to be supportive, naturally, but Ludwig wasn't in a good enough emotional state to realize that. Toris was here to assess the situation, to see how Ivan would act upon waking. To see if he was still violent, and then, if he wasn't, to somehow get him to sign those papers when Ludwig wasn't looking. Ivan being out in space would make him pliable, and a confused Ivan was one who Toris could convince to sign anything.

Over Ludwig's dead body.

Ludwig was smiling still, so happy that Toris was there even if Gilbert wasn't, and Alfred finally broke away from Toris' piercing gaze and looked away. Alfred was glad that Ludwig didn't know that Toris was there to moderate, to change opinions, to sway Ludwig to Alfred, to keep Ludwig from falling once more into Ivan's ever-waiting arms. Toris was there as support, alright, but for Alfred in the end, because Toris had his own motivations.

Alfred knew it, and stayed silent, because Toris' subtle and careful manipulations in the end would serve Alfred well.

...damn, he felt like shit.

He wasn't the bad guy here, he wasn't, so why did he feel so mixed up?

As they waited for Ivan to come around, Toris played on his phone, likely keeping Gilbert up to speed on everything, as Alfred scuffed his boot on the floor and repeatedly reminded himself that he was not, in fact, the bad guy.

Why he had to repeat it so many times, he couldn't say.

The morning sun was bright and pale in the white sky when there was the first stir.

Nine in the morning. Alfred had come back shortly before with coffee.

An inhale.

Ludwig's head snapped up, he reached out like lightning to grab Ivan's hand, abandoning his coffee in a blink, and Alfred felt that familiar pang of hurt when Ludwig leaned forward breathlessly, eyes only for Ivan as he stared away at him.

A moment of shifting, inhaling, noises of discomfort, and then, for the first time, Ivan opened his eyes. Barely.

A long stare up at the ceiling behind very squinted eyes.

Alfred went over and closed the blinds then, out of courtesy if nothing else, and after a long minute of shifting, Ivan's squinted eyes opened just a bit more. Heavier breathing, grunting, as Ivan shifted restlessly.

Ludwig waited, never once removing his gaze from Ivan, eyes as focused as a hunting cat.

Ivan suddenly tugged his wrists, unable to move them for the ties that yet held him to the bed, and there was a very low mutter in Russian. Toris stared away at Ivan, face very uninterested, and Alfred settled down, because it was becoming clear that Ivan wasn't really awake.

Ludwig knew it, too, and gave a clipped sigh.

Ivan just restlessly tugged his wrists, blabbering away softly in Russian and not once ever seeming to become lucid. Didn't recognize anyone around him, was nowhere near alert, and Ludwig lowered his eyes in disappointment as delirious Ivan murmured away and shifted jerkily about.

Several minutes later, Ivan went back to sleep.

More waiting.

The second time Ivan woke up, around noon, was another no-go.

Ivan just bolted up very abruptly at the waist with an inhale, startling Ludwig so much that he nearly toppled backwards, and looked around the room as he once more uttered low words in Russian, this time mixed with English. Ivan's eyes were very wide, very confused, head twisting this way and that as he made up his own words and strung together entirely incoherent sentences. Ivan sputtered utter nonsense then, as Ludwig gawked at him.

Ludwig, patient as a saint, held Ivan's hand and gave efforts to hold conversation, even if Ivan didn't make a damn bit of sense.

Alfred did snort a few times, despite how awful he felt, because, hell...

Sometimes, it was kinda funny.

At one point, Alfred swore that Ivan had urgently rambled something about the space shuttle losing its beach ball, which naturally would have concerned anyone. Very vital to space exploration, the beach ball.

Another time, Ludwig shook Ivan's hand, whispered, "Hey, look over here, it's alright."

Ivan snapped his head over, eyes still so wide and dazed, and Ivan uttered, very seriously, "I think I'm on fire. Can I have some ice cream cream? For my head-shoe?"

Even stern, scared Ludwig cracked a smile at that one, hanging his head and laughing. Ludwig shook his head, sighed, and gave Ivan's hand another good jostle.

Toris, naturally, was not amused, and Ivan lied back down shortly after and slipped back into unconsciousness.

Ludwig snickered to himself long after Ivan had fallen back asleep, and sometimes Alfred felt himself smiling.

...maybe Alfred should go buy the poor bastard some ice cream cream. For his head-shoe. Pick up a beach ball on the way, to save the space shuttle.

Alfred shook his head, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and snorted. It was nice to laugh a little, in the middle of this suffocating stress.

Everyone was exhausted.

Good too quickly, though, and misery easily mounted once more, as Ludwig sat there and ever waited for Ivan to come around.

The sun was lowering when Ivan woke up one more time.

Another groan, another inhale, but this time Ivan didn't bolt upright or open his eyes immediately. He squirmed a little, wincing, and somehow Alfred sensed that this time would be different. Just the way Ivan was moving then. Ludwig seemed to sense it, too, because he was holding his breath, sitting halfway out of his chair and clinging to Ivan's hand so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Toris focused.

At last, Ivan had gathered up enough strength to open his eyes all the way and begin looking around, glancing first around the room. He lifted his head, just a bit, and then his pale eyes raked over Toris with scrutiny, before Ivan suddenly turned that piercing gaze to Alfred.

That time, it was clear that Ivan was lucid. Awake. Aware. Alert.

Third time was the charm, apparently.

Ivan's grey eyes easily held Alfred in place. Like staring right at a tiger. Intense. Prying. Hypnotic. Alfred could say, perhaps, that this was his very first time actually looking into Ivan's eyes, under the assumption that the other times had been someone else.

Ivan held his gaze for a long minute, and then, finally, looked up at Ludwig.

Instantly, that intense gaze seemed to soften, seemed to change, and Alfred was painfully aware of it. At the sight of Ludwig, the crinkle in Ivan's brow lessened, a bit, and everything in his face seemed much less pained, seemed calmer, seemed more peaceful. Seeing Ludwig seemed to alleviate Ivan's pain, and that was extremely distasteful, because, really, it was pretty beautiful.

Ivan's eyes ran over Ludwig's face with the breathless scrutiny of a man looking up at the Sistine Chapel for the first time.

Damn.

Ivan didn't wake up and become aggressive. Wasn't violent. Didn't look angry or agitated. Didn't look upset at all. Just looked like he was in a great deal of agony.

Alfred had been prepared for Ivan waking up, had been ready for him to start ranting and raving again, had been waiting for him to flip his lid, had been waiting for him to pitch a fit and start breaking things as he had before. Honestly, maybe Alfred had wanted that to happen, because that would have meant that Ludwig had been wrong, that it wasn't the tumor that had been making Ivan crazy. Maybe Alfred wanted it to just be Ivan. Wanted Ivan to just be that way, because that would mean that there was no chance for Ivan to win Ludwig over again.

But Ivan just smiled up at Ludwig, rather softly, eyes flitting over Ludwig's face, as Ludwig smiled so beautifully back and continued clenching Ivan's hand. Ivan's lips parted as if to speak, but he instead lowered his gaze down and saw his hand there within Ludwig's. A long stare, and then Ivan glanced back up, and Alfred could never have fully understood that look on Ivan's face.

It may have been awe.

Alfred hung back, and watched.

The doctor had demanded a stress-free environment, and so Alfred bit down that jealousy and stayed still.

At last, Ivan opened his mouth, and spoke.

A weak, rough whisper.

"Ya v gospital?"

Russian again? Alfred nearly rolled his eyes, as Ivan came around and tried to figure out what was going on. His voice was soft, gentle, pretty, as it had been in the station. Alfred detested how pretty Ivan's voice was when he spoke normally, when he wasn't screaming. Easy on the ears. A captivating, entrancing voice, for sure, far more handsome than Ivan himself.

Agitation.

Toris was staring holes through Ivan, and seemed to be calculating as always, analyzing. Assessing the situation.

As Ludwig stared, Toris lifted his voice and said, softly, "Da. Uspokoisya. You'll have to speak in English so everyone can understand you."

Toris only spoke then at last because Ivan seemed lucid and aware, alert, and yet for some reason had still spoken in Russian.

A glance over, a crinkle of Ivan's brow, but Ivan was very quick to look back up at Ludwig, seemingly hypnotized by him, and instead of asking questions, Ivan just uttered, in English, "I'll try. It's not very good, though."

Sounded just fine, Ivan's English, with as subtle an accent as Toris', maybe a bit more pronounced, and Ivan actually seemed quite confused at that, as if him speaking very good English was odd.

It was a thousand times better than that choppy, unnerving speech that Ivan had spouted in the police station.

Ivan paused, and then added, clearly to himself, "Maybe my studying finally worked."

...this was kinda weird.

Well! Jeez, the guy had just had brain surgery. The doctor had said that Ivan would be a little loopy at first. Coming back from something like that. Ivan had just had an entire team poking around in his brain and scrambling everything.

Anyway, at least he wasn't worried about beach balls falling off of space shuttles anymore, so Alfred figured the bastard was doing pretty well.

Ludwig looked relieved, and Alfred took another step forward.

Just in case.

Ivan looked around the room once more, gathering up his bearings, and attempted to figure out the situation as he sat up just a little. He looked down at the fabric tying his wrists to the bed, furrowed his brow, and seemed very deep in thought. From the look of him, he had just woken up on a foreign planet with no idea how he had gotten there, but his eyes eventually flew back to Ludwig, and stayed there.

A crooked smile from Ivan, charming, and Ivan said, "I'm in the hospital, huh?"

Ludwig nodded his head, simply, staring down at Ivan as if Ivan were the only thing left in the universe. Ivan stared right back at him, as if seeing the sun for the first time, and then Ivan suddenly broke into a full on smile, an absolute beam, canines poking gawkily out and eyes crinkled.

Ivan must have been in terrible pain, but the sight of Ludwig seemed to make him forget that.

Alfred felt invisible there in the corner.

Ludwig smiled too, really smiled. That bright, beautiful, full smile that only Ivan could ever seem to bring out of him. That same smile that Alfred had seen in that photo—so long Alfred had chased after that smile, so long he had tried to bring it out, and now here it was.

But only because of Ivan.

Once more, for just a brief moment, Romeo and Juliet had reconnected.

Ivan seemed as mesmerized by Ludwig's smile as Alfred was, and Ludwig was oddly playful in that moment, when he gave Ivan's hand a shake and murmured, "It's about time, Sleeping Beauty. You've been gone forever. Good of you to finally come back."

Alfred narrowed his eyes a little at that, in annoyance. He wasn't too keen on Ludwig teasing Ivan the way he had been teasing Alfred. Ludwig was completely and utterly relaxed in that second there beside the man that had so often nearly killed him, and Alfred felt that that was a mistake.

Too soon.

They didn't know yet Ivan's mental state, and Ludwig was already pretending that Ivan was once more that elusive 'good man'.

The way Ivan gazed at Ludwig then was pretty beautiful, Alfred had to begrudgingly admit.

What Ivan said next, though, made Ludwig's gorgeous smile drop.

"Sorry I took so long. Don't remember what happened, exactly. So. You must be my nurse. Hope so, anyway. That, or I died and went to heaven. What's your name?"

Just like that, everything fell still.

Toris inhaled, sharply, and Alfred's folded arms dropped to his sides in shock.

Oh, shit—