The numbness that enveloped her body and mind as she watched men and women in uniforms load Sebastian onto a gurney should have been a blessing. Everywhere she looked, every one she saw, everything hazed over like a dream. Distant and distorted voices, not speaking words but groaning and moaning in communication, rumbled around her. Someone grasped her shoulders, shook her lightly, and she vaguely recalled being strapped into a vehicle and watching the scenery flash around her—blending together in an abstract landscape of watercolors that mixed in all the wrong ways. Bile rose in her throat.

She couldn't find any words of alarm before she lurched forward and vomited between her feet. Reality snapped back into place from the force of her stomach expelling all its contents. The rush of the world passing through open car windows roared through her entire body, churning up the stabbing pain in her head. Her stomach heaved in rejection once again while a large hand rested on her back, soothing circles rubbed between her shoulder blades as she wailed hysterically between her knees. Another voice, words unintelligible through the rush of wind and blood in her ears, crooned softly but it didn't calm her. The distorted world she now resided in was twisted and wrong in all the worst ways. Nothing would ever be okay again, though at the time she couldn't quite remember why.

The doctors later told her she had been in shock.

The Barone Memorial Hospital was smaller than the one in the heart of Zuzu City but it was cleaner and softer around the edges. The nurses wore soft pinks and yellows, smiled encouraging smiles and spoke with such sincerity that Lilah felt she surely laid on her deathbed. By the time she gathered her wits enough to fully comprehend where exactly she'd been staying, the bruises on her neck and wrists shined a jarring black. Distinctive handprints wrapped around her throat, a ghost of malice lingering in the mirror's reflection every time she happened a glance and she still sounded as if she'd gargled with razor blades. She'd suffered a moderate concussion, ached from bruises all over her body and face, and sutures mended the gash down her cheek—dissolvable, the doctor had told her, and less prone to scarring. Time would only tell if she'd be forced to face it every morning for eternity.

Even with that prospect, she had gotten off easy.

Bas was still under close observation. The bullet had pierced through his back and scraped across his lung until it finally lodged itself in a rib, at least that's what Eddie had told her. He still hadn't woken up and each hour grew more grim than the last. Her requests to see him had been denied. Even Robin had very limited visitation inside his room and usually could only see her only son through the window. Lilah's chest grew heavy at the thought.

When Robin had visited her room, she had been pale and her eyes glazed over with welled up tears. She'd taken one look at Lilah and promptly broken down, grasping one of Lilah's bandaged hands in hers while they mourned together. The tears seemed endless and Lilah waited for the moment when the sadness would finally give way to fury. She prepared herself for the ire of a mother about to lose her only son, braced for a sharpened tongue to lash out, accuse and condemn, but Robin only wiped her face with her sleeve. Her pale skin blotched with red and shimmered with residual tears, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and emotion. She didn't scream. She didn't pummel Lilah with her fists or claw at her with her nails. Instead, the voice that came out of the older woman was small and the words were all wrong.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

It was worse than a slap to the face. Lilah hadn't known what to say. The apology was already tumbling out of her lips before she could pull it back. She begged for forgiveness over and over, unable to express anything but regret even as Robin wrapped her in her arms and tried to calm her. Everything came pouring out of her in that maternal embrace— disjointed confessions of guilt that may not have even been words at all, but Robin only shook her head and continued to hold her. Perhaps later she would ask Lilah to explain, but in that moment they had both been more concerned for Bas than anything else.

A knock sounded from the door to her room—pointless as it was open at all times. Eddie stood in the doorway, the back of his knuckles still resting against the metal doorframe as he clutched a notebook in his palm. Dressed in plain clothing rather than a uniform, yet still professional enough that made her feel like he wasn't there for a social call: A crisp white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his thick forearms and brown slacks. He had his shoulder holsters on but no weapons. His face contorted into a grimace, hesitant and unsure even as he approached her bedside.

"What is it?" Lilah asked. Her own body tensed, spine rigid from his unease permeating the room. Eddie sat down in the faded pink chair, the upholstery worn down in the seat to where the fabric bleached white. He ran his hand through his messy curls and sighed, but in a moment his shoulders straightened and his face shifted over to a mask of grave professionalism.

"I know it's been tough but I need to ask you some questions while everything is still fresh in your mind." Eddie was gone, Detective Ramirez sat in his place. Lilah gripped the thin sheets as tightly as she could, swallowing against barbed wire tangling in her throat. When she didn't make any effort to speak, Detective Ramirez leaned forward in his seat. "Listen to me, Lilah. I don't understand what happened between you two, but I shot my own partner. When he's cleared from the hospital there's going to be an investigation. He could very well walk away with little more than administrative leave unless you help me."

Lilah's heart stopped. The walls inched their way in, threatening to crush her firmly between them. Hadn't this nightmare gone on long enough? If she gave her statement, pressed charges, there could be a trial. That in itself could take years—years of interviews with detectives that had worked alongside Emery, years of reliving every memory that she just wanted to throw away and forget. All of it needed to end, one way or another, but what was she supposed to do?

What the hell was she supposed to do?

Eddie's hand engulfed her shoulder, squeezing her gently. It was only then that she noticed her chest was heaving, breaths leaving her in quick ragged succession, and sweat beaded at her hairline. The heels of her hands jabbed against her eyelids, spots of color dancing across her darkened vision from the pressure. She wanted to scream. She wanted throw the furniture in the room through the windows and spit and curse until a nurse could pump her full of enough sedatives to make her sleep through the rest of this horror. The nurses' shoes squeaking through the halls, the beeps and alarms from monitors, the rumble of the air conditioner, all of it was too loud. Her ears were full of nonsense, even Eddie's coaxing left her wanting to rip her hair out. In a moment, the raucous roar all but consumed her and Lilah wondered if she screamed out against it— even her own thoughts were drowning.

Then, it was quiet.

A dark revelation settled in her chest, haunting and heavy enough to churn her stomach. She had a choice to make — it was a choice she thought had been decided all those months ago at the bus depot: Was she a victim or a survivor?

She thought she had become stronger during her time in Pelican Town. She told herself all she needed was a new roof over her head and she would no longer be the weak thing she despised back in Zuzu City. Except she hadn't really changed at all, had she? She had tried to pretend that none of it had ever happened yet still ran her life around the fear that Emery would track her down...and then he had. Despite all her posturing about taking her life back, she realized the disgusting truth of it all: She had been acting like a damn victim and Bas had paid the price for her decision.

Lilah grit her teeth and pulled her fists away from her eyes. Back then, she had made the wrong choice. She was being given the chance to take it back— take it all back. Her eyes cut to Eddie, resolve hardening around her heart like armor. There would be no more running. No more hiding in fear for nightmares to find her.

She would fight.

She would survive.

Detective Ramirez snapped his notebook shut. His grim expression hadn't changed since Lilah had started speaking. He listened in silence, notated everything she said with his lips pressed into a firm line and dark brows furrowed. When she finished, her history with Emery was preserved in ink. Five years wasted bleeding, sobbing, and praying for an end was immortalized in the moleskin notepad resting in the detective's lap. The words had flown from her lips and bled her pain onto the pages. One day, when all of this was over, those words would be destroyed. Burned, shredded, tossed in the trash to wilt and wither away where they would never been read again. Her body felt lighter at the thought, wondering if they would be nothing but an inconsequential memory to her by that time. Eddie grimaced and shook his head, hiding the notebook from her view as he slipped his pen back into his pocket.

"What you've told me sounds like a completely different person," he said. "The Emery I know was nothing like that. When he'd talk about you, it was always about how much he loved you."

"Does it look like he loved me?" Lilah challenged, her voice came out much harsher than she intended. She was tired—physically, mentally, emotionally. Though she expected his questions, it didn't stop the bitterness from sinking into her tongue. Still, she couldn't bring herself to be completely angry. Not when she faced the pained expression twisting Eddie's features.

"I'm sorry," Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. "I just don't understand. With everything you just told me, why didn't you try and get help?"

"From who, the police? You don't seem to believe me much right now and he even had you at gunpoint."

"I believe you," he said. "Your stories match up in regards to what happened in Pelican Town, so I have no reason not to believe you."

Lilah frowned.

"My story matches up?"

Eddie stood from his seat, cracking his back with a sigh.

"With your friend, Sebastian. I interviewed him before I came to talk to you."

"Bas is—!" Lilah leapt from her bed, the dull throb of her back and hip a mere annoyance against the rush of adrenaline pounding through her. He was awake and if he was well enough to answer Eddie's questions, she could see him! Eddie carefully grasped her shoulders as she stumbled on her feet in haste, pulling her back and holding her still.

"Hold on, this is a hospital! You can't just go running off." Eddie sat her back onto her bed, dark eyes narrowed with concern. "The only person you should focus on is yourself right now."

She reluctantly settled back down, her head spinning from her quick movements and body crying out in protest. It wouldn't do either of them any good for her to go running through the halls trying to find Bas's room but all she wanted was to see his face.

"At least tell me where he is," she asked. Eddie hesitated. It was only for a moment, but long enough for a chilling thought to worm its way across her mind: What if Bas didn't want to see her? It was her fault he was in this situation, who was to say that she would be welcome in his room?

"Room 1408," he said at last. "But I mean it when I say that you should stay put. You both need to rest up." He watched her just long enough to make sure she wouldn't move, then left without saying another word, shaking his head to himself.

In solitude, the thoughts came louder. Worry and guilt tangling in a twisted dance across the forefront of her brain. The world crashed all around her and she couldn't pick up the pieces until she had answers. It was selfish, maybe even childish, but Bas was the only thing that made sense when she couldn't control her darkening thoughts. She just wanted to see him.

She just wanted the world to make sense again.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Lilah pushed to her feet. She reached for the bag on top of the table at the foot of the bed— clothing and personal items that Abigail had dropped off at her request. Haven was still considered a crime scene but the younger girl advised she snuck in to accomplish the task. She and Sam had visited a couple of times in the past few days. Neither had asked much except for the obvious— how was she? Any news on Sebastian? She was thankful they hadn't pressed her for details but she knew she'd have to tell them eventually.

The hospital gown shed from her body like snakeskin, replaced by a light blue zip-up hoodie and some sweatpants. She shoved her feet into her sneakers but the backs folded under her heels and dug into the back of her ankles. It was a discomfort she'd have to deal with, her screaming back wouldn't let her bend down to fix them.

Bruises and stitches notwithstanding, she didn't look like a patient anymore. She could walk the halls mostly unmolested if she was careful. Lilah slipped out into the hallway, walking slowly but with purpose along the sterile-white corridor. Signs helpfully guided her along, thick white arrows directing her to her destination. Room 1408 wasn't terribly far, a quick visit wouldn't be too difficult and she could be back in bed before anyone noticed.

The rooms she passed were all carbon copies of her own, casting the illusion that she wasn't getting any closer despite the numbers at the doors gradually decreasing. The sight of the white plastic sign finally reading 1408 was a physical relief. The door was open like her own, the curtains pulled back to reveal Bas sitting up in bed, fiddling with the remote attached to the side of the bed frame. He turned to look at her just as she thought she would tumble to the linoleum floor.

"Lilah!" His voice was hoarse and he moved forward as though to run to her side but his face contorted in pain, a strained sound ripped itself from his throat. Lilah found her feet and rushed to his side. Their arms wrapped around each other, impossible to tell who reached for whom first. The angle was awkward, Bas was drenched in sweat— whether was it pain or fever, Lilah didn't know— but their bodies pressed together as tightly as they could manage on the small hospital bed. He laid back with his fingers nestled in her hair, her face buried in the crook of his neck. He couldn't stretch his other arm far but his thumb ran gentle circles along her forearm as her shoulders shook.

There was so much she wanted to say. She thought she had gone there to apologize but the words wouldn't come out of her mouth. Bas's arm tightened around her and she breathed in that comforting blend of wood and tobacco that came to her even in her dreams. She was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to yell at him, demand that he never scare her this way again, but what could she say to chastise a man who literally took a bullet for her? He was warm and alive against her. His heart beat thrummed evenly against where their chests connected, mimicked by the artificial beeping of the monitor hooked up above the bed. She should be thankful.

She shifted just enough to brush her lips against his. She was thankful. Thankful for him coming into her life. Thankful for the feel of his breath against her skin. He kissed her lightly, too soft to be anything but a tease that only left her wanting. She moved to deepen the kiss, desperate to feel more of him come alive beside her, but he pulled away with a sheepish smile.

"My mouth feels nasty. My breath must be terrible," he warned.

"I don't care." Lilah kissed him again, relieved when he welcomed her and didn't pull away. She felt the pieces shattered by the last few days slowly mend back together inside her. Not quite whole—a part of her wondered if she could ever truly be complete again—but the part of her heart that sang every time her body felt his slowly warmed inside her chest. Her hand cupped his cheek, fingers stroking his face as softly as his tongue danced with her own. The dampness she felt there surprised her, hot against her hand and fresher than sweat. Lilah forced herself to pull away, carefully brushing his bangs out of his eyes.

"Oh, Bas…"

Sebastian's dark eyes overflowed with tears spilling over his long lashes, trailing glistening streaks down his gaunt cheeks to pearl at his chin. She kissed his face, wiping the tears away with her thumbs while he winced through shuddering breaths and placed a trembling hand over hers.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, averting his eyes. "Fuck, I'm sorry. The last thing that I can remember is being so...so fucking scared. I could hear you screaming and I couldn't move or even open my eyes...and I thought I had died." He pressed his lips into her palm, kissing the lines that criss-crossed across her hand. "But I'd do it again. I'd do it a thousand more times if it meant keeping you safe. I just…I'm still not even sure if I'm really alive right now."

"You're alive. We're both alive." The echo of his voice in her mind as she repeated his own words back to him only made her more sure that it was the right thing to say. He nodded once against her palm, eyes screwed shut and one arm snugly held her around her waist. Helpless didn't even begin to cover how she felt. All she could do was cradle him against her chest, gently stroking her fingers through his hair. "We're both alive," she said again, "all because of you. You saved my life, Bas. Thank you ."

As they held each other, she realized why she couldn't apologize. He didn't need her apologies. He needed her . He needed whatever strength she had to support him. He needed to feel the same security she felt every time he crossed her mind.

He had been so strong for her from the moment they met, it was about time she did the same for him.

The road to recovery felt longer than it needed to be. While Sebastian had been released soon after waking up to finish convalescing at home, he felt like he may as well had been strapped to his bed. For a small laceration to his lung and a broken rib, there was very little he was allowed to do on his own— not so much doctor's orders as his mother and Maru constantly trying to make sure he didn't strain himself. Maru had defended her behavior by tossing out some medical terms that he only barely understood, he'd called her a know-it-all, then the fight ended as soon as it had begun by a wet coughing fit that had his sister running for first aid supplies.

He'd been thoroughly cautioned by his doctor on what to look out for if the condition worsened— so far, nothing he had described had happened. There was no sign of infection, the pain was expected but bearable most days. He knew he was lucky to get away with only one more smaller surgery before being sent home. He just wished everyone else in the house could leave it at that and not treat him as if he could drop dead at any moment because he decided to wash a plate himself.

He supposed he couldn't deny that part of his agitation stemmed from nicotine withdrawals. The one thing that had been drilled into him at the hospital was how detrimental smoking even one cigarette could be for his condition. The risk of a collapsed lung was plenty motivation to toss his cigarettes into the garbage but it didn't stop the cravings. He'd taken to drinking way more coffee than necessary, chewing gum, chewing his nails...anything to keep himself from swinging over to Joja Mart and buying a whole carton of smokes. Luckily, Lilah held his hand figuratively and literally every step of the way. She'd gone through it herself once upon a time and assured him that the worst part was already over. He'd be completely over it in a couple weeks, he just needed to stay tough until then.

Speaking of…

Sebastian sighed and shifted in bed, the desire to step outside and smoke almost completely forgotten at the feeling of the warm body beside him. Lilah slept deeply, nestled into his side with one leg tangled with his. His arm pillowed her head, numb and tingling but he couldn't bring himself to move it. One of her hands rested on his chest. She liked to sleep that way, he'd noticed, with her palm against his heart or her face buried in the pulse on his neck. He didn't mind. Having her worried about him didn't feel so bad— though maybe it was because he worried about her too.

Neither of them had step foot at Haven since being released from the hospital. He'd immediately offered for her to stay with him until arrangements could be made to clean the cabin up and, though she hesitated at first, she'd been at his side since. She didn't talk much about the farm except to lament that the crops she had been tending must be dried up by now. He knew she missed it. Some days he'd find her outside, standing at the edge of the path and staring down the mountain to the farm below, but he also understood her reluctance to return. The place had been meant to be a place of comfort— of new beginnings and a fresh start. Now, it was only another place for her nightmares to come alive. He couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't have his own reservations about going back down the mountain. He'd dreamt about the feeling of the bullet ripping through his flesh many times in the last week, he was in no hurry to return to the scene of his much-too-close brush with death. Sometimes, in his dreams, the shot missed him completely and hit her, shredding through her heart and riddling her entire body with bleeding wounds while his screams followed him back into the waking world.

He tried to push the thought away. He'd certainly been struggling with the idea of his own mortality since the confrontation at Haven, but the knowledge that it had almost been her still chilled him all the way to his guts. He wasn't sure what that said about his own sense of self-worth, nor did he care overly much. He'd meant what he told her back in his hospital bed: He'd do it a thousand times over if he had to. A year ago, he didn't think that it was possible to care for someone to such an extreme. Now, after just 6 months, she made him want to be stronger, braver, gentler than he ever thought he could be.

The feeling of her sleeping beside him night after night only cemented that resolve. A part of him hoped that she'd never return to Haven—or at least wouldn't go anywhere that he couldn't follow. As he twirled some of her ebony hair between his fingers, he thought he'd never be able to sleep alone ever again. Her sleeping face, her smiling face, her crying face...he didn't want to miss any of them.

He wondered if this was what it was like to be in—

"Bas…"

"Hmm?" He wasn't sure if she was really talking to him. Her voice was groggy when she snapped him out of his thoughts, she may very well still be asleep. Then, her eyes fluttered open to glance at him.

"You're thinking too loud," she said, eyes drifting back closed as she snuggled back into him.

"Am I?" He chuckled lightly, readjusting his arms around her and pulling her tight against his chest. He kissed her lips as soon as the opportunity presented itself, sighing when she hummed happily at his affection.

"I could feel you staring at me." she smiled, innocent kisses growing electric enough to chase away the sleep threatening to overtake her again. He ran his hand down her spine and Lilah arched against him, the hem of his borrowed shirt hiking up over hips.

"Sorry about that," he lied. His hand trailed along her waist to circle her thigh, his thumb massaging circles into her skin. She squirmed and carded her fingers through his bedhead, parting her lips for him. He felt fully alive with the first stroke of her tongue against his, with all the sweetness she poured into each kiss. Each time their lips met, he could feel how desperately she needed to be loved— recognized how easily someone could have taken advantage of it. Her kiss was so full of affection, he felt needed even with the most chaste brush of her lips. She gave as much of herself as she could with each touch, it was no surprise that a predator like Emery had locked her in his sights and claimed her all for himself.

Bas rolled on top of her, banishing the thought of the other man deep into the back of his mind. He couldn't erase the scars—they would remain a constant reminder for the both of them of what they had survived—but he could make sure that no one else ever had the opportunity to add more.

Her body was fire beneath his. Swept up in the whirlwind of his kiss, Lilah sighed and murmured his name between their lips. There was something in the way she moved against him, wearing nothing but his shirt, that triggered a primal part of his brain. All he wanted was to feel her against every inch of him...if only the rest of him felt the same. As his breath quickened, the pain in his ribs only grew. He tried to power through it, dipping his head to kiss the bruises that marred her neck, but she had felt his body tense in pain.

"Bas…"

"No." He winced at how petulant he sounded, not sure how he felt when Lilah only laughed.

"I'm not going anywhere," she promised. "There's no rush."

She was right, of course, though it did nothing for his nerves. For the first time in his life he had been presented with a fear he had no idea how to manage. There were so many things that could have gone wrong. What if he hadn't gone to check on her? What if he hadn't moved fast enough to protect her? She was there beside him, willing to put her faith in him after everything she had already experienced...but he'd become too aware of just how easily he could lose her.

"We should probably get up soon." Lilah sighed before burrowing herself against his chest.

"Thought you weren't going anywh— Ow ! Don't do that!" Sebastian laughed. Lilah's fingers continued to pinch at his sides in retaliation. She chased after him as he wriggled away from her assault until his back hit the wall and he had nowhere else to go. His only defense was to capture her hands in his and lace their fingers to keep her at bay. He was just about to declare his victory when she pressed her lips against his knuckles, smiling a soft smile that only proved to him he'd done anything but win.

"I really love your hands, you know?" She said it so suddenly and his mind went blank.

"I...don't."

"They're always so warm." She unlaced their fingers, running her thumb along his palm before nuzzling her cheek against it. Her eyes closed, the smile never leaving her lips. "Whenever you touch me, I feel safe. Strong. Like I can do anything."

Sebastian froze. A strange mix of emotions rolled inside his chest that made him want to hide his face and kiss her at the same time.

"That's why," she continued, "I think I'm ready to go back." Lilah opened her eyes, shifting her stare to meet his. The storm raging there was different now. For a while, her gaze had been calm— merely the breezeless eye of the hurricane that now ravaged her irises. He could hold onto her tightly or be blown away. There was no other option.

Sebastian cradled her face in his hands. If she felt the tremble in his lips when he kissed her forehead, she didn't mention it. He thought of the small cabin where his blood soaked into the floorboards. The chill that ran through his veins wasn't unreasonable, but he felt foolish for its presence when faced with her intensity.

"Then, let's go," he said.

He refused to be blown away.

Farming was a profession that required constant attention and effort. It was the first thing she learned when researching the best way to utilize Gramps's farm. Knowing that, Lilah supposed she shouldn't have been surprised when she and Sebastian arrived to find all the crops she had been tending so carefully withered away to nothing after two weeks of neglect. Crows picked at what was left, stalks of beans and berries all shriveled up and started to rot. It was almost as dismal as what she knew awaited them inside.

Yellow tape blocked the door to her cabin: such a thin representation of everything that had occurred inside notated by thick black letters that read CRIME SCENE – DO NOT CROSS . For a time, she could only stare at it. Once she removed it, it would be time to push forward. Was she strong enough? Could she start over—again?

Sebastian's hand slipped into hers. That familiar warmth burned through her skin, courage flaring to life between their palms where they pressed together. He looked down at her and nodded once in encouragement. She could do it. She could have the life she'd always wanted...and he'd be right beside her.

Squeezing his hand in hers, they both reached up and ripped the tape down.