Ellie walked into the house so quietly, Patsy almost didn't hear her enter. The ginger sat quietly in the living room, waiting for her daughter with a bottle of Maker's Mark sitting on the side table and a half-full tumbler in her hand. At the appearance of Ellie, Patsy gestured for her enter.
Whether her daughter noticed the tear-streaks or swollen eyes, she didn't say anything.
She softly sat down next to Patsy, her expression anxious and frightened.
The ginger put the tumbler on the side table and turned to where they were facing each other head on.
"Where's mam?" Ellie whispered.
"She's sleeping, we mustn't wake her," Patsy murmured back.
The two eyed each other warily.
"Is it…" Ellie asked hoarsely. Her mum's expression got terribly sorrowful before she slowly began to nod, and fresh tears began to cascade down her cheeks.
"Mum-" Ellie gasped, lurching forward and hugging the ginger as her mother hugged her tightly back.
"I know, sweetie, I know," Patsy murmured as her daughter's form shook violently with sobs, "Let it out, it is okay, I have you."
"Is she okay?" Ellie mumbled against Patsy's chest fitfully.
"She's scared, honey," Patsy whispered back, "We have to be strong for her, okay?"
Ellie nodded as she continued to weep in Patsy's arms.
The next week was a blur.
Mrs. and Mr. Busby arrived the night Delia called them up and told them, making the flat suddenly very crowded. Ellie called in sick for two days, the first to let her weep in bed, (Patsy had taken Delia to an appointment, and Grandma Busby tried to rouse her from her grieving but to no avail. When they got home, Delia went in there alone and after fifteen minutes they both emerged, though no one knew what was said between them.) The second time was so that they could all go out to the park the day before Delia's scheduled surgery.
Surgery.
The word was a menace within itself.
Patsy remembered taking Delia's hand and leading her away from the family for a moment, taking a rather romantic stroll along the pond to an isolated bench behind some tall grasses. Several sleepless nights and having been put off food had made both of them rather gaunt and have deep bags under their eyes, along with a perpetually permanent red tint to their eyes. Sitting down, they stared at the koi fish for quite some time in silence.
"Patsy," Delia began softly, taking her wife's hand in hers.
The ginger squeezed it gently and glanced at the brunette.
"About tomorrow-" Delia whispered, only to be immediately shushed by her wife.
"I love you, Delia," the ginger murmured, "In sickness and in health."
Delia looked at the other tearfully in a pained fashion.
"I love you too, for better or for worse," the brunette said in a hushed tone, "But if…if something happens…"
"-Delia, please, don't you dare-"
"Patsy, let me finish," Delia interrupted sharply, "I…I want you to know that I have always loved you, so, so much, ever since I first saw you…I…I…" She broke off as fat, hot tears slid down her cheeks and she lurched forward to press her lips on Patsy's. The ginger eagerly complied, while gently wiping Delia's tears away with her thumbs.
"I know, Deels," Patsy murmured after they broke apart, "but nothing is going to happen tomorrow, other than you going in there and getting this removed and being cured of cancer."
"You still have utter confidence in modern medicine, don't you?" Delia said teasingly, smiling for the first time in days.
"'Course I do," Patsy said simply, "And in you."