"I miss you so much already, Anna…" My voice cracks, those tears slide down my cheeks as I press closer and bury my head in your chest. "I lo-love you s-so m-much." I wail and my fist clutches your gown so tight as I sob, that pain engulfing me once again. "I-I can't do this!" Every inch of me trembles, from my head to my toes and I feel so, so cold, I shiver. "I need you!" I shatter, my soul split, my heart in ruins, I haven't the strength to go on. "Please, don't leave me." I know my words are hopeless, you're already gone, and there's nothing left to save.

"I love you."

"Elsa," A voice calls distantly. "Elsa…"

I begin to rouse, confused and in a daze. Everything hurts, my head is pounding, every muscle feels tight and strained. My chest is constricted, and my face is tender and sore. I groan as I shift, scrunching my eyes closed as a bright light seeps through my lids.

The first thought that registers in my mind is how wrong everything feels. How the bed is too hard, and the sheets are too rough. The light that shines through my closed eyes is too bright to be natural and the air smells different; harsh, and chemical.

There's a heaviness to my heart, even though it feels hollow and empty, and a rhythmical beeping permeates the otherwise silent room. I blink rapidly, my head foggy as I try to make sense of my surroundings.

"She's awake." A woman says, her voice vaguely familiar, as though from a dream.

I grunt as I push myself up, the blanket that had been draped over my body falls and then my head begins to clear…

"Anna!" I cry as my eyes flash open and then desperately search the bed for your body, but it just isn't there.

"I'm here, Elsa." Your voice croons, and it's too close, too real… "I'm right here."

I whip my head to the side, ignoring the stabbing pain in my neck. "Anna!" I gasp in surprise and shake my head in disbelief. This isn't real, it can't be, this has to be a dream. But then you reach out and your arms wrap tightly around me and you're so firm and real beneath my hands. There are no bandages covering your body, no wounds to be seen, you're perfect and whole and alive! "What the fuck?" I breathe in disbelief, my body tingling in shock. "Anna?"

"You're awake." You stammer, shaking all over as you hold me tight. "You're awake. Oh, my God, Elsa! You're finally awake!" You hiccup and shake your head, "You scared me so much, I thought…" Your voice breaks, your breath shaking as you inhale sharply. "I thought I'd lost you. I thought I'd never get to hear your voice again!"

Your lips press firmly against my own, warm, and yielding and god, I've missed you so much. It feels like forever since I last got to hold you like this, since I last tasted you on my tongue. I pull you closer, hold you tighter, I'm never letting go. If this is a dream, I never want it to end.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost." You chuckle softly, your tears soaking my shirt. Then you pull away and I tremble in shock, unable to comprehend what I'm seeing, what I'm feeling.

"What? But you-" I stutter, none of this makes sense. "How?" I end up sighing, just moments ago I was clutching your lifeless body in my hands and now you're here, unharmed and breathing and your heart is beating and…

"It's okay, Elsa." You reassure, "You're safe, you're in hospital. You've been in an accident, but you're going to be okay." A sudden stabbing pain reverberates in my skull, and I grasp my head, only to find it's wrapped in a bandage. I drop my hands and gaze down at my body, I'm covered in wires and tubes, with a gown draped over me. There's casts and dressings and throbbing pain everywhere.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. "I- this… you…" I look back to you and you're crying, there's tears streaming down your cheeks, a redness around your eyes.

"I was so worried." You murmur through your tears, your voice tight but full of relief and I just don't get it. "I thought-"

I reach out and wipe those tears away and you hiccup softly, kissing the palm of my hand as you clutch your stomach, that bump no longer there. "The baby!" I cry, "Our daughter!"

You look confused for a second, but you're smiling, and your hands shake as you reach out and stroke my cheek and my eyes slip closed because your touch is so tender, so loving, so… you and I can't help but cry. "She's sleeping," You explain, nodding your head to the small cot tucked away in the corner of the room.

"How did you know we had a girl?"

"What?" I stammer, perplexed and bewildered, I was there – you weren't – how could I not know? "You- there was an accident and… and…" I groan, my head spinning, everything is backwards.

"There was an accident." You begin, "An idiot ran a red light and hit your car. It flipped and you rolled through the intersection before slamming into a tree. You had to be cut free before they could race you into surgery." Your voice quivers, your chin trembling as your hand fumbles around on my gown before coming to rest on my chest, directly above my heart. "God, Elsa. I thought I had lost you!"

"No, that's not…" I groan again, my head feels so sluggish and I'm struggling to make sense of what is real and what's not. "I- you were in an accident, that idiot hit you! I-I had just picked up our dinner and… and then I got a call saying you were in hospital!"

You shake your head, "You never made it to Oaken's. You were on your way when the accident happened." Concern mars your features, worry contorting that beautiful face of yours, and then it changes and you almost look… guilty. "I had called to tell you my waters broke and that's when…" You pause and shudder, terror clouding your features as your eyes slip closed for a moment before slowly reopening. "God, Elsa. I heard that car slam into you, I heard your scream!" You whimper, your breath hitching sharply. "The sound of glass shattering and metal warping… my head has played it on repeat ever since! Every time I close my eyes, I picture you in that wreck. I thought you were…"

"No… but- the baby, our daughter! She- you had an emergency C-section... you died, Anna!" I wail, I feel so conflicted, that agony, that grief comes rushing back but you're right there, right in front of me, I can feel you, smell you, I still taste you on my tongue!

"Elsa," That vaguely familiar voice says, and I look to the side to see Gerda standing beside my bed. "You've been in a coma-"

"What?"

"-for the last month. Your injuries were… extensive and it was touch and go for a while there, but we got you back. It was you in that accident, not Anna."

The room goes silent for a long-drawn out moment as my head throbs and I attempt to process the information. "It was all a dream?" I question distantly, "None of it was real?" I look to you again and it finally hits me. You're really here. "You're alive!" This overwhelming wave of relief washes over me, and I break. I begin to sob and reach out blindly, grasping your shirt in my hands as I pull you in and weep in your arms. I cup your face in my hands, delighting in the warmth of your skin beneath my own. I keep touching you, everywhere I can, just to prove to myself that this is really real, and you really are alive.

You give a watery laugh, bright and beautiful. "I'm alive." You affirm, kissing me again and god, I'm shaking, and my heart is singing, and everything is back to the way it should be.

When you go to pull back, I hold you in place, your head resting against mine and I can taste your breath as it washes over me. "I love you." I sigh, those words have never held as much weight as they do in this moment. Never have they felt so vital.

"I love you more." You beam and I don't need to see your face to know how luminous your smile is. I breathe you in deep, committing your scent to memory as we just stay like that for a long, luxurious moment. Then, a tiny cry pierces the room, and we break apart with a jolt. "Would you like to meet your daughter?" You ask me, grinning broadly and I nod, too overwhelmed to speak. It just feels too good to be true.

You stand and walk to the cot, a tiny fist pokes out from the side. "Her name is-"

"Dawn." I say before you even get the chance.

You freeze for a moment, our daughter half in your arms, half in the bassinet. You gasp, your eyes wide. "But, how did you know?" You lift Dawn free and place her in my arms, your face full of confusion and disbelief.

I smile, she looks exactly as I pictured her, a spitting image of you. "It's always darkest before the dawn." I murmur and you fall back into your chair in shock. I chuckle softly, cradling Dawn's head in my hands as I stroke the side of her cheek. "I told you, I had a dream."

"Tell me." You implore with an almost desperate whine to your tone. "Please."

"I'll go alert the team that you're awake and give you two some time alone." Gerda says, I'd gotten so caught up in us, I'd forgotten she was even there.

I nod and Gerda leaves, the door closing softly behind her. I lay back down, my head resting on the pillow as I scootch to the far side of the bed – ignoring the pain the comes with the movement – and place our daughter on my chest. "Come here." I say to you, beckoning you to join me on the bed, you're too far away, even though you're right there by my side.

You don't even hesitate before climbing into bed with me, you snuggle in as close as you can, our beautiful baby girl tucked under my chin. "I love you, Anna." I whisper, my heart both aching and swelling and then it roars to life when you repeat those words back to me. "I really thought I'd lost you."

"Tell me." You plead, and so, I do.

I tell you everything, from the moment I got that call, to when I found out I was a mother, to feeding our baby alone for the first time and then waiting in that room with your family. I tell you about the pain, the agony of losing you, about the words you said to me and how they gave me the strength to leave that room. I told you how all the staff had lined the walls and how much it killed me when I saw your body.

I explained how I reminisced with you, how I told you the story of our love and how you saved my life all those years ago. I told you everything, leaving no detail unsaid. I remembered how I read you that letter you wrote all those years ago, about the snowball fight and my recovery. How I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you.

"I didn't know how to say goodbye to you, I just couldn't leave your side. Even though I knew you were gone, I felt like if I stayed, if I kept talking to you, then I could keep you alive somehow, like you weren't really gone until I walked out that door." I explained, my heart aching once more, those memories, those illusions overlapping and entangling with reality. "I fell asleep with your body, and it was Gerda that woke me up, she told me it was time and that I had to say my last goodbyes." A lump forms in my throat and I struggle to finish the story.

Seeing my distress, you reach out and take my hand in your own. You guide it onto your chest and press it to your heart. "Feel that?" You ask and wait for me to nod. "It's still beating, Elsa." You remind me, your hand covering mine, "I'm here, I'm alive. It was just a dream."

I sniffle and nod as I close my eyes and focus on that steady beat beneath my palm. "Just a dream." I exhale deeply and nod. "I held you one last time, wishing that I could have had more of it with you. I kissed you and told you that I loved you and I held your hand as I walked away until the distance was too great, and I had to let go. Then, when I reached that doorway, I turned back, and told you that I was calling our daughter 'Dawn' and then…" I open my eyes and smile, a sigh of relief rushing past my lips. "And then I woke up."

You have tears streaming down your face again and I can only imagine how confusing and painful this must be for you because you've just gone through the same thing with me, only, I survived. I woke up and I'm very much intend on hanging around for a while yet.

"So much of that actually happened, Elsa! I-I just don't understand! How could you know? You weren't even there!" You cry suddenly and I lift my hand from your shirt and grasp the back of your head, pulling you in and kissing you fiercely, proving to the both of us that this is real, that we're both here and alive and our story still has many chapters waiting to be written. "It was Bulda that called me to tell me about the accident, Gerda delivered our baby and Kai checked her over. It was me in that room with my family, me pacing back and forth, me waiting to hear that you were going to be okay. It was me by your bedside, me reading you that letter that I wrote… I just don't understand it at all."

"Does it matter?" I ask as I release you and pull myself to a seat. You follow my movement, lifting Dawn as you snuggle into my arms before placing her on top of the sheets that now cover us both. I ignore the way my body aches, the pain that courses through me with every touch, there's no way I'm letting you go, no matter how much I'm hurting – the pain only further proves that this is real, that it isn't a dream. I'll happily live the rest of my life in agony if it means I get to keep you by my side. "I've always said that it feels like you're the other half of my whole, my missing puzzle piece, as though our souls are intertwined. So maybe, somehow, I experienced my own version through you, like an alternate reality, my brain's way of processing the trauma. Or maybe I just dreamt it because that's what you were dictating to me.

"Maybe we've grown so close that we've developed a kind of telepathy, like twins do, where one twin can sense the other's pain, only without us being related – wife telepathy." I joke and you laugh, my ribs hurting as they expand. "Wait… you're not secretly my long-lost sister or anything… are you?"

You laugh heartedly at that, and I feel a warmth blossom in my chest. god, I missed that sound. You bite you lip and turn to look at me. "If we were sisters, I certainly wouldn't be doing this…" You press your lips against mine, hard and desperate and god, you make my heart soar.

"I'm never letting you go." I whisper against your mouth, and you move even closer, slinging your leg over mine. "Ah!" I yelp when you shift and accidentally elbow me in the chest, "I think I might have some broken ribs."

"I'm so sorry!" You apologise and suddenly sit up, moving until we're not touching anymore.

I wrap my arm around your waist and pull you back in, "Don't you dare." I command firmly, "You're not going anywhere, Anna. I told you, I'm never letting you go."

"I don't want to hurt you." You say, gently stroking the side of my face as you cautiously snuggle back in.

"You won't." I promise, and just as we get settled again, Dawn lifts her head, her eyes scrunching up tight as she grunts. Her face turns red, her hands balled up into tight little fists as she seems to strain and then… "Did she just?"

You laugh as I scrunch my nose, a tell-tale odor wafting through the room. "I think someone needs a change." You chuckle and carefully untangle yourself from me and the sheets before rising from the bed and picking up a bag from beside the nearby chair.

You reach into the bag and pull out a nappy, wipes, a little plastic bag, and a changing mat before placing them in the cot. You then walk back over to the bed and go to lift our daughter when I wrap my hand around your wrist, stopping you in place.

"Wait. Can I… can I change her? Please?" I ask timidly, embarrassed that I'm even asking in the first place.

"Of course, you can." You agree, and you take the items out of the cot and place them on the bed instead.

I tenderly pull myself to a full seat. The casts covering both my legs makes it impossible for me to cross them, so I spread them instead, creating a soft space between them for Dawn to rest. You lay out the waterproof mat and I place our baby on top, smiling as her eyes open and blink slowly as she looks around the room.

"Here you go." You say, seating yourself by my side once more as you hand me the nappy and wipes.

I look down at the tiny bundle in my lap and reach out to undo the press-studs holding her little suit together. I pause for a moment, my fingers lingering over the buttons. My mind flashes back to my dream, to my anguish at not having you show me how to change a nappy, to us missing out on these precious bonding moments together. And so, I ask, "Would you teach me?"

"I'd be honoured to." You smile and kiss my cheek before shifting your weight to one hip as you lean over me slightly. "So, you're in the right vicinity." You jest, "Now, just be careful, newborns like to have… explosions, so there is a high probability of leakage." You reach out and wrinkle your nose as you tickle Dawn's stomach affectionately, our baby squirming on the mattress. "Yes, you're very good at making a big mess, aren't you?" You croon, and Dawn squeaks in response.

"I would recommend opening the clean nappy first and making sure you have a few wipes pulled out before you begin, it will make the process a lot easier… believe me. Wipes can be notoriously stubborn at times and the last thing you want is for them to be stuck in the pack when you have literal shit everywhere."

I laugh at your instructions and take heed, pulling a couple of the cloths out of the pack before I start. Carefully, I undo the press-studs and with your instruction, lift Dawn's legs with one hand as I pull the suit up and under her arms with the other. Warily, I undo the grip-tabs on her nappy and pull it down, wiping as I go. "Wow! That's pungent!" I exclaim, turning my head as the strong stench hits my nose. "And why is it yellow?"

You laugh heartedly, your head dropping to your chest, clearly, you're finding this to be highly entertaining. "It's yellow because all she drinks is milk; it will change colour once she starts solids." You explain, your voice filled with mirth.

"Ah, right. I knew that…"

"You are entirely too adorable." You chuckle warmly before kissing my cheek again. "Right, now use the wipes to clean her up and put all the rubbish in the doggy bag."

Once again, I lift Dawn's legs with one hand and carefully raise her bottom off the mat… only to practically drop it immediately after. "Oh, my god. It's up her back!" You laugh again, you're clearly having way too much fun at my expense. "How can something so small create such a big mess!" I cry, I'm way out of my depth here. "It's a literal shit show!"

You snort into my shoulder; your giggle is practically devilish. "I did warn you."

"Where do I even start?" This is not how I envisioned this moment to go. "Help!"

You snort and then cover your mouth with your hand as you try to stifle your laughter. "Just start wiping…"

"You're no help at all." I grumble.

Half a pack of wipes later and more bodily fluids on my hand than I care to admit, Dawn is finally changed and is sporting a new, clean outfit that isn't covered in her own mess.

I'm traumatised.

"Well, that was a lot less complicated in my dream." I deadpan, wrapping Dawn in a blanket before cradling her to my chest.

The infant starts to sniff, her head moving from side to side as she begins to make these adorable little squeaking sounds. Then, those noises become louder and the next thing I know, she throws her head back in my hand and begins to wail, her limbs flailing everywhere. "What did I do?" I ask, she was content just a second ago.

"Nothing, she's just hungry." You reassure and stroke our baby's cheek, the newborn turning her head in the direction of your hand, her mouth open wide. "See that? It's called the 'rooting reflex', if you lift her to your face, she'll try latching onto your chin… or absolutely any part of your body she can… everything is a nipple to a baby."

Curious, I lift Dawn up, the palms of my hands under her arms as my fingers cradle the back of her head. Sure enough, as soon as she feels my skin against hers, her little head starts moving from side to side vigorously. Her lips make little smacking noises as she makes a seal around my chin and sucks. "Wow, she's got some good suction." I comment in awe. Her little arms flail about, her hands opening and closing on my face, her nails scratching at my skin. "And some sharp claws." Dawn pulls away, now screaming, clearly frustrated that my chin isn't giving her the sustenance she needs.

"Tell me about it." You drawl, rolling your eyes as you reach over to the abandoned chair and take the pillow, placing it on your lap. You pull your shirt down and unclip one side of the nursing bra you're wearing, your breasts engorged, they look painful. "Try having that mouth on your nipples fifty times a day, sucking you dry until you're red, raw, and bleeding. And those claws? Yeah, they're more like talons, as sharp as razorblades so she can scratch her way to the milk if it's not coming out fast enough."

You reach out and take Dawn from my arms, you're just about to pull down the cup of your bra when I stop you once again. "Wait," I say, "sit here." I pat the space between my legs and have to lift them with my hands to move them out of the way a little more – the casts are just too heavy and I'm beginning to tire. "Lean against my chest, I want to try something."

You place Dawn on the bed as you carefully move yourself into place, but you hesitate for a moment, deliberating as you keep some space between us. "Are you sure about this?" You ask with uncertainty, "Your ribs-"

"Will be fine." I interrupt, kissing your temple.

You look dubious but trust my words, picking Dawn up again as you very slowly lean back at a slight angle, putting as little weight on my chest as you can. "You're not in pain?"

"Not at all." I lie as a stabbing pain radiates through my chest and my breathing becomes restricted. But this is too important to me, and I don't want you feeling guilty.

"You sure you're okay?" You ask, as you manoeuvre the baby into place.

"I'm sure." I affirm. "I just… I want to help feed her."

"Okay." You smile with a gentle nod. "I'll get her latched on, because we still struggle with that a little, and then you can hold her as she feeds."

I grin and nod, pressing my face into the back of your head and kissing you softly. This moment means so much to me, it's something I had dreamt about before Dawn's arrival and words can't express how proud I am now that it's actually happening.

We had entertained the idea of me inducing lactation when you were pregnant, but the hormones I needed to take just didn't agree with my body and despite us trying everything possible, it just wasn't going to work for me. I was devastated at first, especially knowing I could never carry a baby of my own, this was something I had really wanted as a way of still being able to experience that part of motherhood. But, as your belly grew and I got to feel the baby moving beneath my hands, I accepted that motherhood would always look different for me, and I focused on other ways I could be as hands on as I possibly could.

Still crying, Dawn's head whips from side to side as soon as your nipple touches her cheek. Your breast is marred with scratches, your nipples look swollen and sore and suddenly, I'm not so sad I couldn't breastfeed after all.

"Look, it's right there!" You tell the banshee in your arms, "If you would just keep your head still…" Finally, Dawn latches on and begins to suck, her arms stop flailing and grasp at your breast, her fists opening and closing as she drinks. "Here, put your hand over mine and cradle her body with your arm."

I shift to the side a little so that I can reach around fully and rest my hand over yours. Carefully, as to not jostle the baby, you slip your hand from beneath mine, resting it on the pillow. "You got her?"

"Yeah, I've got her." I sigh blissfully. This is exactly how I pictured it in my head, and I can feel myself becoming emotional. I sniff as tears well in my eyes and press my face into your hair.

"Hey, what's wrong?" You ask worriedly, your free hand reaching over your body to wipe the tears from my face.

"Nothing." I smile broadly, "I'm just so happy." I cry, kissing you as I bask in the beauty of the moment. "This… this is perfect."

Your eyes become glassy, your chin trembling. "It is perfect." You agree softly, your voice quivering. "I never thought I'd have this moment with you."

"Neither did I." You kiss me again, your lips pressing against mine for a long, luxurious moment. "I'm so sorry I missed the birth." I whisper as you pull away, I know it was out of my control, but that doesn't stop the guilt I feel – I missed the birth of my first child in both realities and that is something I can never get back.

"I know." You say, your smile dropping as you sigh. "I'm not gonna lie, it was really hard not having you there. It certainly wasn't the birth I had wanted."

That guilt just increases tenfold, but, as hard as it is, I know we need to talk about it, we need to express our feelings and discuss the trauma otherwise it will just brew and grow, and I don't want anything to come between us.

"Mum was the one that drove me to the hospital; I had called her after I heard you crash, and she came racing over. I was so scared, so worried about you. I begged the doctors to stop it, to give me something to make the contractions go away, but they couldn't. My waters were gone, and I was full term, there was no medical reason to stop it and stopping my natural labour could have put the baby at risk." You look down and stroke Dawn's hair as she continues to feed. "Mum never left my side, she just held me as I cried. I didn't want to have the baby, and, in that moment, I just didn't care. All I wanted was to know if you're okay and to have you by my side.

"I could still hear your scream reverberating in my head and my mind kept filling with images of you bleeding and broken. I just clutched Mum and kept repeating your name, over and over. It all just felt like a horrible nightmare I couldn't wake up from." Your breath hitches as tears slide down your face, mingling with my own as they drop onto the blanket covering our daughter. "I barely noticed the contractions, the agony in my heart suppressed everything else. I kept asking for updates, but no one had any to give. All they kept telling me was that you were still in surgery.

"Kristoff and Dad arrived, they took over the duty of asking about you so that I could focus on the birth, but all I wanted was to trade places. I kept picturing you in surgery, blood everywhere, your body all torn up. And as the time I spent in labour progressed, so did the time you were on that table.

"Kristoff kept trying to reassure me, he said that no news is good news because it meant you were still alive, that you were still fighting and there was still a chance. It didn't help." You shake your head and look down at the baby that is now asleep on your breast. No longer drinking, you slip a finger between her mouth and your nipple, breaking the seal as you slip you hand back under mine and lift her to your shoulder.

"I didn't want to push, it was all happening too quickly." You continue, patting Dawn's back as you rock slowly. "I kept hoping that if I stayed in labour long enough, if I kept the baby inside of me, then maybe by some miracle, you'd come out of surgery and you'd be okay, and they'd wake you and you'd get to see the birth of your baby. But my body decided it wasn't going to wait and started pushing on its own accord.

"I didn't have the energy or the will to keep going, I kept telling everyone I couldn't do it, I didn't want to do it, but the baby wasn't giving me the choice, she was coming, whether I wanted her to or not.

"All of a sudden, she was crowning. God, it felt like I was on fire. I reached down and I could feel the top of her head, feel her hair and then, just one push later, she was out. Mum cried and told me it was a girl, then she cut the cord and stayed with Dawn as they cleaned her up and checked her over.

"She was born at one forty-four pm, weighing three and a half kilos. Fifty-one centimetres long with a thirty-centimetre head circumference. As soon as she was back in my arms, I just held her and cried. I could see so much of you in her and it hurt in that moment.

"Those next few hours were torturous. They seemed to drag on for days. I was exhausted, bleeding and in pain, but I couldn't rest. I couldn't sit, I didn't want to eat or sleep or talk. I just kept pacing. Back and forth in that tiny room. It was all I could do to stop myself from racing into theatre and seeing you with my own eyes. I just needed to know that you were alright.

"It was sometime later when your surgeon came to see me and I finally received the news that you were out of theatre, but it didn't bring me the relief I was hoping for. She told me you were on life support and in a coma, that your injuries-" your voice breaks and you shake your head, your tears falling faster than ever, "-your injuries were extensive and-and they didn't know if you'd ever wake up!" You weep and my heart breaks for you because I know exactly how you feel.

"She told me you had died on the table, Elsa. Twice! You-you… died." You just… break. I can feel your back quivering as you press yourself into me, your hands shake, your voice gone.

"I'm alive." I whisper through tears of my own. "I'm okay, Anna. I'm okay." You turn in to me, curling up as you cradle Dawn to your chest. I wrap my arms around you both, holding you as tight as I can because I know the pain you're feeling all too well and I can feel it threatening to engulf me too.

"I-I stayed by your bedside, even after Dawn and I were released. I didn't want to leave you, what if something happened when I wasn't there? I was so scared, Elsa." My chin won't stop trembling, that pain is all too real. "They kept trying to reassure me that the coma was a good thing, that it was giving your body time to heal, but I knew the longer you stayed in it, the less likely it was that you would wake up.

"You were covered in so many tubes. Tubes to feed you, tubes to drain the blood, you weren't even able to breathe on your own, Elsa, you needed a tube for that too! No one could tell me whether or not you'd wake up and even then, they said if you did, you might not have the same quality of life you used to.

"I was told to prepare for the worst." You pause for a moment and just breathe deeply, composing yourself as you continue to tremble.

"Everything felt so bleak. I couldn't imagine a world without you in it. I didn't want to. It was inconceivable to me." My mind flashes back to the memories of myself by your bedside, knowing you were gone but not being able to even consider my future without you in it. To that hollow, empty feeling, the numbness, and excruciating agony that somehow managed to coexist.

"After the longest two and a half weeks of my life, you finally started showing signs of improvement. You were beginning to breathe on your own and your body started reacting to stimuli. And finally, god, finally, at the three-week point, you were breathing well enough on your own for the tube to be removed and I just sat there, gripping your hand as I held my breath for what felt like minutes as I waited for you to take you first.

"The relief I felt in that moment was overwhelming, it was the first small step, that tiny glimmer of hope that maybe there was still a chance you'd be okay."

"And I am." I kiss the top of your head, my tears falling into your hair, and you nod.

"I know." You smile and wipe your face with the back of your hand. "I just… really missed you."

"I really missed you too." I whisper softly as I gaze down at my perfect little family resting in my arms. It still doesn't quite feel real, having you here, feeling you move, breathe. My brain is still struggling to comprehend this new reality when the other one felt just as real. The two versions intersect and entangle, and I have to keep reminding myself that it wasn't you in that accident, it was me. "I can't wait until I can go home, and we can begin this next chapter together, I feel like I've missed so much."

"Our bed has never felt as empty as it has these last few weeks." You agree, carefully lifting yourself as you move from your spot between my legs and settle by my side again.

I slowly shuffle down the bed and lay myself back down, my body feeling heavy and sore. You place Dawn on my chest again, the infant sleeping soundly. You roll onto your side and raise the head of the bed a little before curling up and resting your head on my shoulder, your hand covering mine as we cradle our daughter together.

"You look tired." You observe, "You should get some rest, Elsa."

I shake my head, stifling a yawn, "No, I'm okay." I insist, though the look you give me tells me that I'm being anything but convincing. "I don't need to sleep."

"Elsa." You grumble at my stubbornness, "You've been through a lot, your body still needs to heal." You implore as you begin stroking a finger down the bridge of my nose.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing." I tease, batting your hand away. When I was sick and couldn't sleep, my mother used to do the same motion whilst singing her lullaby to me. Your hand is right back where it was before, stroking softly over my nose and eyes, and I pout. "I'm not a child, Anna."

You just smile, drawing you lip between your teeth. "You're adorable when you pout." You say and then lean in to kiss that pout away. "C'mon close your eyes, relax, Elsa."

I feel my eyes slip closed for a moment and shake my head in protest. "I-I… no." I murmur ignoring how heavy my lids feel, how much my body aches, I can't.

"Elsa," You groan, your expression becoming serious for a moment. "You need to sleep, and I'll be right here, I'm not going anywhere."

I sigh deeply and look away from you, a tension building in my chest. "I… I'm… scared, Anna." I admit hesitantly. "I'm terrified that this is a dream and that when I wake up, I'll be back in this bed and you'll be gone again… I just…" I sigh again, allowing my eyes to slip closed for a moment as I try to find the words to express how unreal all of this still feels. "I can't trust my brain right now, Anna." I admit slowly, "I can't trust what I'm seeing, what I'm feeling. In that alternate reality, I could touch you, feel you… it all seemed just as real as this does. How am I supposed to know which one to believe?"

You expression changes, your chin wrinkles and your eyes soften, aching in sympathy. "What were my injuries, Elsa?"

"What?" I ask bemused, "What does that-"

"Humour me." You interrupt, "What were my injuries?"

"I-I…" I begin and then sigh, shaking my head as the pain comes creeping back in, the image of your lifeless body at the forefront of my mind. "I don't know." I admit at a whisper. "I mean, they had just told me you were dead, Anna. It's not like I cared about your injuries!"

"You have four broken ribs." You begin firmly, your hand moving from my cheek where it was resting, down to my chest as your fingers trace over each injury. "Your legs were pinned, you broke your right fibula, and both your fibula and tibia in your left leg. It was so bad that you developed compartment syndrome and they almost had to amputate. You now have a metal plate and several screws holding the bones together.

"Your hip and shoulder were dislocated, your left clavicle broken. Your head hit the steering wheel and then the tree you slammed into. You had a gash across your forehead, a broken eye socket, and fracturing to your skull.

"You were bleeding internally from almost everywhere, and were losing blood faster than they could pump it in. You had scratches and cuts covering your body from the shattered glass and warped metal, splinters of wood from the tree. One of your lungs was punctured by a rib, filling with blood and they had to drain it to stop you drowning internally.

"It took them fifteen minutes to cut you free from the car and just as they got you out – you stopped breathing." You pause, your eyes slipping closed, your voice growing tight as you take a deep breath to steel yourself. Slowly, your eyes reopen, and you lift yourself onto one arm, hovering over me, your hair falling around us like a curtain. You smile softly and stroke my face, leaning in and pressing your lips against mine. "They managed to bring you back, get you stabilised and intubated, and then loaded you into the ambulance. You were then driven to a field where they met up with the medevac pilots before transferring you into the helicopter and flying straight to hospital.

"So, you may not be able to trust your brain, Elsa, but you can trust me…" you lift my hand to your chest, I can feel the steady beat of your heart beneath my palm. "Trust this." You smile and lean forward to kiss me, still holding my hand in place. "It's still beating, Elsa, you can feel it. Trust it, trust me. This is real and I am alive, and I will be right here when you wake up, I promise."

I close my eyes and feel the tears rolling down my cheeks, feel the love that rages in my chest. I feel the warmth of your body and the thundering of your heart, racing beneath my hand as your lips meet mine once more and I whisper, "And if this is a dream?"

"Then choose to stay."