As nature is melancholic and morbid, the unpleasantness of the next day arrived rather quickly. At nine in the morning, Patsy sat dully in the corridor before being roused by a nurse that she could enter the assigned hospital room.
She stood and soon felt her daughter grip her hand, tightly.
The ginger glanced down and squeezed reassuringly back before stepping forward, the Busby's a step behind them.
The room was rather spacious, with a small extension into some sort of living arrangement, with a TV and a couch by the window. But that went ignored for a moment as the trio crowded around Delia's hospital bed, the brunette dressed in a hospital gown and a head cap over her hair. An IV had been placed over her right hand and a monitor on her forefinger. She smiled morosely at the sight of her family.
"You have about fifteen minutes, the doctor is on his way up here," the nurse said softly, "I'll be in here to give her some drugs and then we'll walk her down to surgery."
For a second the four just warily looked at each other, unsure of how to feel. They had all shed their tears, and now was the moment of truth.
"We love you, Delia," Mrs. Busby murmured, grasping her hand, "We'll be here when you wake up, cariad."
"Love you too," Delia said hoarsely, squeezing gently back. Mrs. Busby stepped back to let her quiet husband through to kiss his daughter on the brow and share a knowing look with her.
For them, nothing needed to be said.
The Busby's pulled back, letting Ellie and Patsy file through.
"Mam…" Ellie croaked before lurching forward and hugging her Welsh mother.
Delia was quick to hug back as a few tears escaped and trailed down her cheeks.
"'so 'kay," Delia murmured in Ellie's ear. Ellie nodded slowly into Delia's shoulder before abruptly pulling back and bitterly wiping away her tears. She spared her mother a watery smile before stepping away, and Patsy stood at her wife's bed side.
The ginger reverently knelt down so her face was level with Delia's. The room got oddly quiet as the atmosphere became sullenly momentous, not unlike that of a cathedral on Good Friday.
The two looked at each other for a long moment.
"Delia," Patsy murmured softly, "Do you remember what I told you on our honeymoon?" For a moment the brunette raised her eyebrows and glanced at the rest of the family before risking a scandalous smile.
"Well, Pats, there were A LOT of things said, if I remember correctly."
Patsy allowed herself to crack an amused smile.
Looking down at her hand as it trailed over Delia's forearm, Patsy murmured, "I told you that you were the most beautiful thing I had ever come across and I would always love you, no matter what."
Delia's eyes softened as she recognized the promise.
"Yes, I remember," Delia whispered soothingly. Patsy's eyes slowly moved up until she locked her gaze with her wife's. She then shifted and leaned over the bed to take Delia's lips with her own in a chaste, yet passionate fashion, the brunette responding eagerly. Behind them, the Busby's shifted; the last time they saw them kiss was at their wedding.
"Don't leave me," Delia pleaded softly as they pressed their foreheads together, just as an authoritative knock echoed in the room.
"I won't," Patsy promised.
"Now, this is just a little morphine and some suppressants to calm you down," a nurse said, pulling out a prepared injectable. Everyone watched warily as the nurse injected it into a port in Delia's IV and two other nurses began to detach Delia's monitors as they prepared to move.
A quiet moment passed, in which Patsy gently rubbed the inside of Delia's forearm, searching for a sign that the drugs had kicked in.
The team of nurses cautioned the ginger before they tugged the bed forward and migrated into the corridor.
The brunette suddenly gave a start.
"Jeez," she slurred, slumping down into her mountain of pillows.
"How do you feel? Okay?" Patsy asked, suppressing a smirk.
"Yep, yep, yep!" Delia hummed, her eyes becoming glassy, "What is IN this?"
Beside them, a friendly nurse chortled as he gave the two a reassuring smile.
"We are just moving down the corridor," he narrated as Patsy walked easily with them, the Busby's having urged her to escort Delia to surgery, "but then you'll have to return to the waiting room."
"Noooo," Delia slurred mutinously. Her eyes were fluttering as she appeared to struggle with keeping them open.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Busby-Mount," he said sympathetically, addressing Delia, "but you will have to wait and see your wife again when you wake up." The brunette's hand gripped Patsy's firmly at this, though every other part of her body seemed to be relaxing due to the drugs.
"Deels," Patsy said sternly as they reached the double-doors and the nurses all turned and looked expectantly at the ginger.
"Pats…no…"
With a heavy sigh, Patsy leaned down and brushed her lips on Delia's numb ones.
"I'll be here when you wake up, love," she murmured, "It's okay, you are going to be brilliant."
"I 'uv 'oooh," the brunette slurred.
"I love you too, silly," Patsy whispered back. Delia's grip loosened and Patsy sullenly retracted her hand.
"We've got her from here," another nurse offered with a smile.
And with that, Patsy watched as her wife disappeared beyond the doors.