The change from colour to black and white was somewhat startling: almost dizzying, to watch everything slip into monochrome as the swirl of magic faded around them. But Jefferson hardly noticed. His only concern was for Elizabeth, whom had turned even paler in the Land without colour. To his relief, the fairy dust had lived up to its use of 'emergency only' and brought them straight to the doorstep of the Frankenstein castle. Jefferson wasn't sure that Elizabeth would have been able to walk through the woods. She leant heavily against him, his arm enclosed around her back; as it had been since he'd scattered the fairy dust around them in Andalasia.
Elizabeth's weary sigh roused him from his thoughts. Although they were sheltered from the drizzle by the castle's porch, the stone didn't keep out the cold wind that howled around them.
"Hurry up Victor," Jefferson muttered, pounding his white knuckles against the door once again. The wood gave a creak, almost splintering under the force, yet there was only silence from inside of the castle. At long last were the sound of footsteps and the sliding of bolts, until the door swung open. Igor stood opposite them, the tails of his lab coat fluttering behind him.
"Jefferson," Igor nodded, his voice yielding nor like or dislike. He glanced down at Elizabeth, his years of being a butler unable to hide his own concern at the sight of her, "and Miss Elizabeth. This is a rather unexpected surprise."
"I need to see-"
"Victor. Right away Miss," Igor said, having already tugged off his lab coat. He turned and hurried down the hallway to the laboratory.
A few seconds later, his figure reappeared at the other end of the hallway, Victor following, his ire evident as his voice echoed along the hall. "Contractions, that's all. She's not due for another two weeks!"
"Then how do you explain the fact that my waters broke in Andalasia?" Elizabeth called to Victor, straining for her voice to be heard.
"What do you mean, 'in Andalasia'?" Victor said, "You two are still portal-jumping: this late in Elizabeth's pregnancy?"
"No, we had to-" Jefferson began, struggling for the word under Victor's fierce gaze. "You see,"
"Rumplestiltskin," Elizabeth finished.
Victor nodded, though he had little time to comprehend as another contraction surged through Elizabeth. For a moment she was rendered immobile, her rising and falling chest the only part of her body that moved, her hands pressed to her abdomen.
Suddenly realising the urgency of the situation, Victor beckoned them in. He sharply ordered Igor to clear the laboratory before ushering Elizabeth down the hallway. Jefferson remained by her side, never letting go of his hold around her whilst they walked. The cloud-filled sky darkened the windows. Raindrops drummed down, filling the silence of the hushed hallway.
A brilliant white light shone at the end of the hallway from the laboratory door. With Victor holding the door open, Jefferson slowly led Elizabeth down the steps. He had bounded down them so many times; it was only now that Jefferson noticed just how steep the steps actually were. Reaching the bottom, Elizabeth gave a grateful smile to Jefferson and her brother.
Upon entering, Jefferson caught sight of the chaos that was Victor's laboratory mid-experiment. The light that had streamed through the window was fading away as clouds masked the windows at the top of the walls. There was an eerie chill to the room, the metal machinery making it seem even colder. Bubbles gracefully rose inside the water tanks as the machinery ground to a halt.
Equipment was strewn across the laboratory, glinting silver in the light. At the operating table was Igor, who hastily folded up the white sheet upon the table as they entered. Lugging the sheet behind him, Igor inclined his head in agreement at Victor's instruction to bring clean towels and bed sheets. Staring at the long shape inside of the white sheet, Elizabeth's pupils widened as she realised its contents.
"Was that a dead body?"
"I was in the middle of something," Victor said shortly, running one hand through his hair as he brushed away some of the equipment with the other.
"Well I didn't exactly choose to go into labour right now!" Elizabeth snapped, with more strength than she spoken with all day.
Jefferson watched as both pairs of eyes swivelled to look at him, as though to place the blame upon him.
"How is it my fault?" He glanced down at Elizabeth, "It's not like you didn't enjoy it at the time."
Elizabeth couldn't hide the soft glow that flushed her cheeks, and her stifled laugh hardly denied his words. Before Victor could comment, Igor reappeared in the laboratory, clutching several white towels, sheets over one arm.
He passed Jefferson and Elizabeth, placing the towels down at the end of the operating table before stretching out one of the sheets over the table. "Do you need me to send a telegraph to town for a midwife?"
"Oh no, Victor's going to be doing it," Elizabeth said, "Aren't you?"
"If that's what you wish Elizabeth; though I'm sure there's still time to fetch a midwife," Victor said, pulling out several thick books from the shelves that ran along the back wall. The books landed on the desk with a thud, and Victor began to flick through the first one. Without looking up, he continued to speak to Elizabeth, "Could you get up onto the operating table please?"
"I don't want a midwife," Elizabeth said as she clambered up onto the operating table with Jefferson's help. "You know that you're the only person in the medical profession that I trust."
Victor's head jerked up. He sighed, as though the matter had been raised many times. "Elizabeth, those doctors did everything they could for our mother. The fact that they couldn't save her doesn't make them any less of a doctor than I.
"No: you save lives. Most doctors just want to make as much money as possible."
Victor didn't reply; instead he turned his attention to Igor, whom had been silently waiting for further instructions. "Igor, could you light the gas lamps and then see to it that dinner is prepared? From what I've read, the labour could last several hours- and I'm certain that we will all be in need of some sustenance afterwards."
Once Igor had closed the laboratory door behind him, Victor flicked through the pages of one of the books, the dark ink visible under the glow of the gas lamp above the desk. Setting down the book so that it was open halfway, he then got up from the desk and adjusted each of the gas lamps. Light flooded down, focused upon the operating table, leaving the corners of the room shrouded by shadows.
Elizabeth had already begun to hitch up her skirts, her breathing gentle: as if she could convince herself that it was merely another check-up. The spare sheet had been lifted over her knees, covering the bottom half of the operating table where Victor was stood.
"How long have you been having contractions Elizabeth?"
"I don't know. I had some this morning, but they weren't as bad as they are now. It was really once we were in Andalasia that the contractions got worse…" Elizabeth said shakily, her pale fingers trembling upon the table.
Jefferson placed his hand on top of hers, gently tracing along the back of her hand with his thumb. He looked across at Victor. "Why do you ask?"
"Because she's almost fully dilated: another few hours and Elizabeth could start pushing."
"It seems our children are rather eager," Elizabeth rested her free hand upon her abdomen; "I guess they want to see the realms for themselves."
Jefferson felt Elizabeth's knuckles suddenly tense beneath the palm of his hand, digging into his skin. Elizabeth's smile contorted into a grimace. "I hate these contractions."
"Well you've still got at least an hour or so. Then you've got give birth. Twice-"
"Not helping Victor," Elizabeth muttered through gritted teeth. After a few minutes, her features relaxed and Elizabeth gave a sigh. She lifted her head back so that she could look up at Jefferson. "Could you get me some books from the library? I could do with something to distract me for the time being."
"Do you have any preferences?"
A slow smile spread across Elizabeth's lips. "You know which books I like."
"Wait, isn't the library locked?" Victor asked.
"I borrowed the key from father's study about three years ago and didn't return it," Elizabeth explained, looking back up at Jefferson once again, "The key's in the first drawer of my bedside cabinet."
"I'll be right back," Jefferson kissed Elizabeth's forehead, smirking to himself as he caught Victor's expression out of the corner of his eye.
Prising his hand from hers, he went back up the steps of the laboratory. Jefferson paused by the door and whirled around, leaning over the rigid banister. "So it's the most detailed anatomical scientific book that you want me to get?"
"Just hurry up!" Elizabeth called back, her laughter preventing her from sounding angry.
"I'm going, I'm going…" Stepping through the door, Jefferson hurried up to the ground floor and up the central staircase to the first floor. With only a central window along the landing, the dark walls made the passageway seem even bleaker. Each of the wooden doors looked identical, and it took a moment for Jefferson to remember which one lead to Elizabeth's bedroom.
Turning the handle, Jefferson stepped into Elizabeth's bedroom, bright light streaming into his face. The curtains had been pulled back, and the windows wide open to let in as much of the sunshine, that peeped through the clouds, as possible. Shielding his eyes with a hand, Jefferson turned to away from the sunshine and lowered his hand. In the light, the white linen glowed; neatly set upon the bed, which no-one had slept in for months.
Jefferson walked towards bed side cabinet, his footsteps slow as he gazed around the bedroom. Memories from nine months ago flickered in his mind: gently circling around the room in a waltz; her body against his, her lips upon his- waking up beside her on the morning of her wedding. It had been one night of serenity, an illicit act of love.
'Nine months ago, I had no idea that I'd be stood in Elizabeth's room once more, about to become a father,' Jefferson thought, suddenly conscious that Elizabeth was waiting for him. He tugged on the handle of the cabinet, the scent of lavender drifting out of the topmost drawer. Jefferson took out the brass key, closing his fingers around it.
Taking one last look around Elizabeth's room, Jefferson pulled the door hut and strode straight to the end of the hallway. Jefferson knew that the door to library was the final one: they had been right by the window as the lightning had lit up the hallway when he had first kissed Elizabeth. The key slotted into the keyhole with ease, the click breaking the silence that surrounded Jefferson.
Inside, the library was just as dusty as Jefferson recalled, the endless bookshelves that lined the walls covered by a misty film. Wandering through the labyrinth of shelves, Jefferson soon found the desk that they had read upon, between the two shelves of children's books. His fingers trailed along the spines of the books, some more worn than others. Picking out a few of Elizabeth's favourites, Jefferson gathered them into his arms.
"What have I missed?" Jefferson said, pushing the door shut behind him with the heel of his shoe. He staggered down the steps to the laboratory itself, arms bound by the books that he clutched.
"Nothing much: just Victor boring me to death with a scientifically explicit description of childbirth."
"I thought that if you knew what to expect, it wouldn't seem to be quite so painful," Victor reasoned, though Elizabeth shook her head vigorously.
"No. All you've done is made me really not want to give birth."
Reaching the operating table, Jefferson set the books down. Elizabeth tilted her head, her face lighting up as her eyes scanned along the spines of the books. "You got Alice in Wonderland!"
Jefferson nodded, sitting down beside her in the chair that had appeared during his excursion.
"Will you read it to me?"
"I haven't read aloud in months, I'll probably mis-read something..." Jefferson said, glancing over at Victor. He had moved back to his desk, and was studying a scientific journal, but Jefferson was aware that he could still hear them.
"Doesn't matter: I know this story so well, I can correct you if you go wrong," Elizabeth said.
"Alright then," Taking the book from the small mountain of books, Jefferson turned the cover and first few pages until he reached the poem that introduced the story.
Elizabeth had lain back into the pillow, her eyes fluttering shut. She smiled serenely, lips softly uttering the words along with him as he began to read.
"'Take off your hat,' the King said to the Hatter. 'It isn't mine,' said the Hatter-"
"'Stolen!'" Elizabeth cried, bursting into peals of laughter with Jefferson; who had grown use to her interruptions.
As his laughter subsided, Jefferson gave a mock sigh of irritation as he scanned down the page. "I've lost my place now!"
"Perhaps you should finish there," Victor said, his chair scraping on the floor as he stood up from the desk and approached the other end of the operating table.
"Why?" Elizabeth demanded, almost whining.
"It's been almost two hours that I've had to put up with you two re-enacting Alice in Wonderland-"
"It's not much of a tea party with just water," Elizabeth cut in, before raising her tea cup and taking a gulp.
"And in that time," Victor continued, "You've become fully dilated. You'll be going into the actual birthing now."
Elizabeth's smile faltered. She stared across at Victor, her breathing becoming unsteady. "Wait, what? I'm not ready! I can't do this…"
"I'm afraid your body disagrees. You've got about a minute to prepare before the next set of contractions occur and you begin pushing."
"Condescending jerk," Elizabeth uttered with a scowl, "He thinks that he knows everything from reading a scientific journal."
"I heard that Elizabeth."
Elizabeth opened her mouth to retort, though her lips snapped shut as the contractions coursed through her. Setting down the book on his lap, Jefferson reached out for Elizabeth's hand. Her trembling fingers wound around his, chest rising and falling slowly as she momentarily rested.
"How long will this take?"
"About a few hours," Victor replied and Elizabeth groaned, resting her head back into the pillow.
"I can't. I can't," Elizabeth panted, "I can't push anymore."
Wincing slightly, Jefferson tried to flex his stiff fingers, though Elizabeth's grip was bone crushing. Instead he placed his other hand on top of her clenched knuckles. In as rousing tone as possible, he said, "Since when did you give up so easily?"
"You're almost there Elizabeth," Victor continued encouragingly, "the head's crowned. All the baby needs is one last push on the next contraction."
"It's all very well for you two," Elizabeth hissed, her scowl intensifying as her body arched slightly, "You're not the one who's actually giving-"
Her words were cut short by the groan that escaped her lips. Jefferson too exhaled sharply; her grasp around his fingers had grown impossibly tighter. Breathing heavily, Elizabeth's eyes closed, though the crease on her forehead relaxed as she settled into the sheets.
"Our first child," Jefferson said, finally able to free his fingers and caress Elizabeth's arm. Elizabeth gave a gentle smile, exhaling deeply.
"Are they a boy or girl Victor?" She called, leaning forward slightly.
Jefferson moved his arm to rest upon her upper back, Elizabeth straining to see over the sheets to where Victor was stood, cradling a small bundle encased in a towel. Victor didn't reply, and Elizabeth leant further forward still.
"Are they a boy or a girl Victor?" She repeated, her voice now trembling as she gazed at the baby that was held in her brother's arms.
From the other end of the operating table, all Jefferson could see was the white of the towel; Victor's hoarse words were barely audible, "I'm sorry. Your son, he's-"
"Let me hold him. Please," Her shaking hands reached out, and Victor carefully lowered the baby into Elizabeth's arms.
"What's wrong?" Jefferson asked, his hand rising to Elizabeth's shoulder as he leant into her curled up body.
From between the layers of the blood-stained towel, Jefferson finally laid eyes upon his son. There was a tiny smile upon the infant's face, the hint of a cleft matching his. With his eyelids shut, there was something angelic about the baby; as though he was merely sleeping.
"My baby," Elizabeth moaned plaintively, pulling the baby close to her chest as she gently rocked the child in her arms, "My Oliver."
It was only a word.
But hearing their son's name made Jefferson's chest wrench, as though a knife had been lodged inside of him and twisted sharply. The thrill at the prospect of their first child had dissipated, replaced by an aching hollowness.
He could feel Elizabeth's jagged shoulder blade shuddering; every sob cutting into his body. All Jefferson could do was to slowly stroke her hair. With a whimper, Elizabeth turned so that her head fell to his neck, her tears stinging as they hit his skin. Jefferson didn't know how long he held Elizabeth, but gradually her gasps began to steady, the trickle of tear drops slowing. But still she remained, as motionless as the child wrapped in her arms.
"It hurts," Elizabeth said, words muffled by his body.
"I know," Jefferson soothed, though Elizabeth jerked away him, shaking her head.
"No, no. It hurts," Her hands sank down to her abdomen. Bending double, Elizabeth retched, a rasping sound filling the air.
Jefferson was by her in an instant, his hands upon her shoulders as he helped Elizabeth lower herself back into the sheets.
"Here, give her something to drink," Victor handed Jefferson one of the tea cups, freshly filled with water.
Elizabeth still clutched her son, and Jefferson could see from the pained look in her eyes that she wasn't about to give him up. He brought the cup to her lips, and Elizabeth obediently took a sip. Against her pallid skin, the white china cup seemed even brighter beneath the harsh glare of the lamps. Elizabeth hurriedly gulped down the liquid as her body trembled.
"You're going into labour again Elizabeth," Victor said.
She shook her head, voice thick from the tears that stumbled down her cheeks, "No-I don't want to. Not again. Not if she's born-"
"Don't," Jefferson interrupted, lowering the tea cup and tilting her chin with his finger so that Elizabeth was looking at him, "Don't say it. You don't know for certain. You have to try."
Elizabeth frowned, knowing that he was right. She averted her gaze to look down at her son, placing her lips to his forehead.
"It'll be easier this time Elizabeth," Victor said, taking his place at the end of the operating table.
Elizabeth inhaled, though her features suddenly contorted. Crying out, her fingers snaked around Jefferson's wrist, grabbing hold of him.
"It's alright, I'm here," He said, running his hand through her hair in an attempt to comfort her.
"I can't push," Elizabeth mumbled, between short gasps for air.
"You've managed it once already: this time won't be so bad, I promise."
"No, this is different...It hurts so much," There was a pleading ache to her words, the exhaustion that lined her face convincing him without a second's hesitation.
"Victor, I don't think that Elizabeth should do this; she's in pain. She doesn't look well."
"Caesarean, tell him to do a caesarean," Elizabeth murmured, her voice barely a whisper.
"Couldn't you do a caesarean?"
Victor rose from his crouched position, and stood for a moment, considering. He sighed deeply before approaching them, looking from Jefferson to Elizabeth.
"You do realise that a caesarean section is only supposed to be done to save the child if-"
"Yes, I'm aware," Elizabeth said resolutely, despite her laboured breath. "Please Victor, there's no other way."
Victor remained silent for a moment, gaze fixed upon his sister. "Alright: I'll get my equipment."
"Are you okay? You look incredibly pale." Jefferson asked Elizabeth, her eyes following Victor as he rummaged around in various cupboards to the sides of the laboratory.
She nodded weakly, fingers running along the veins of his arm. "I love you."
"I love you too," Jefferson smiled and continued, "Just think, in a few months, we'll be getting married. You'll be wearing that wedding dress…"
"And you'll be in a proper suit. I'm not having you in leather trousers," Elizabeth said, managing a slight giggle.
"You should probably wait outside Jefferson," Victor called, approaching the operating table once more, with various surgical objects in hand.
"He's staying."
"Yes, I'm staying," Jefferson agreed.
"Very well, although you may wish to look away," Victor pulled back the sheet that covered Elizabeth's body, exposing the side of her abdomen.
The scalpel drew close to her skin, and Jefferson lowered his head at the sound of Elizabeth's whimper as the instrument cut into her. He placed his hand on top of Elizabeth's, his fingers brushing the baby in her arms.
"It'll be over soon. I promise," He whispered. Both Jefferson and Elizabeth waited, neither daring to breathe too loudly as a hush fell over the laboratory. Only the scrape of metal sounded.
'Gods, please let our daughter be alive' Jefferson thought, gazing down at his son, unable to tear his eyes away.
A soft mewling cry tugged Jefferson from his thoughts, and he turned his head in the direction of the noise. There, held a little uncertainly in Victor's arms, was a tiny baby. "You have a daughter," he announced, and Elizabeth gave a relieved sigh, craning her neck forwards to see over the sheets. All that was visible was the baby's face, her flushed cheeks as red as the blood that speckled her forehead. Her plump lips quavered, doe eyes gazing up at her parents.
"Can I...?" Jefferson's voice came out hoarsely, but Victor understood and gave a nod, carefully passing the baby to Jefferson.
Jefferson cradled the blankets that contained his daughter, his arms naturally curving around her miniature body. Staring down at his daughter, a slow smile spread across Jefferson's lips as an ineffable sense of unadulterated love for her swept over him.
"Someone's going to be a daddy's girl, I see," Elizabeth said, as she reached out and tenderly traced a forefinger down her daughter's cheek.
Keeping his gaze upon their daughter, he pressed his lips to Elizabeth's ear. "She has your eyes."
Elizabeth's aching expression faded as she beamed.
"Have you two managed to decide on a name?" Victor's voice broke the spell that their daughter had cast upon the pair, "When you were here a few weeks ago you were saying either Jane or Grace?"
"I think that she looks like a Grace," Jefferson said.
Elizabeth gave a nod of agreement, "Grace is perfect."
"Perhaps you ought to take her Elizabeth. New-borns need their mothers as well as their father," Victor said, his gaze trailing down to the baby in her arms. "I'll take Oliver. I think it would be best to bury him as soon as possible."
Elizabeth glanced across at Jefferson, whom inclined his head in agreement. Reproachfully, Elizabeth tentatively raised the baby and placed him into Victor's hands.
"Thank you. It won't take long,' Victor sighed and added grimly, "I've had far too much experience digging graves."
Neither replied; Jefferson focused upon Grace, keeping his eye level away from anyone but his daughter's. Gently tickling Grace's cheek, he smiled to himself as she gave a slight giggle. He heard Victor's footsteps fade as they rose up the staircase. As the door closed, there was a soft moan; the only sound that Elizabeth had made since Victor had taken the child.
"We still have Grace."
Elizabeth remained staring straight ahead, tears trickling down her face. "It was only supposed to be me," Her laboured breathing quickened as Elizabeth bolted upright. Coughing violently, she clasped her hands over her mouth.
"What do you mean?" Watching helplessly, panicked thoughts scattered around his head as her implications dawned upon him, "You've made a deal with Rumplestiltskin, haven't you?"
The tight knot in the pit of his stomach relaxed slightly as Elizabeth shook her head.
"I changed yours," she said, words choked between her subsiding coughs.
Jefferson stared at her, far too many questions for him to voice coming to mind. Before he could say a word, his attention was caught at the sight of the dark stains upon Elizabeth's palms as she lowered her hands from her face.
"Victor!" Jefferson hollered, Elizabeth beginning to cough again. In his arms, Grace writhed restlessly, crying feebly. "Victor!"
"I did it to protect our children," Swallowing hard, Elizabeth lay back in the sheets. Only now did Jefferson notice the beads of perspiration that lined her forehead and the slight trembling of her body.
"I can't lose you too," Blinking back the droplets forming in the corners of his eyes, Jefferson rested Grace against his chest, one arm curved around her. He placed his free hand upon Elizabeth's cheek.
Elizabeth winced at his touch. Despite the clammy feel of her skin, Jefferson could feel the scalding heat upon his own skin. Pulling his hand away, Jefferson jerked his head up at the sound of footsteps. Down the stairs came Victor, taking the steps two at a time.
"I should have known that something was wrong as soon as you asked for that caesarean," reaching the bottom of the staircase, Victor strode straight over to Elizabeth, shaking his head. He grabbed one of the spare hand towels and poured the cup of the water onto it. Exhaling slowly, Victor dabbed at her forehead with the cloth. "Your temperature is so high, I don't understand- an infection couldn't have set in this quickly."
"Magic," Elizabeth murmured.
"But there must be something that I can do," Victor said, his usually calm voice filled with desperation as he wrung out the cloth, "Even if I can't save you now, then I could bring you back from the-"
"No. Victor, you can't. Not if it makes me like Gerhadt," Her eyes flitted across to Jefferson, whom was on the other side of the operating table, "I want you both to remember me as I am now."
"Goddammit Elizabeth!" The harshness of Victor's voice made Elizabeth jump, though he was too incensed to notice, fists shaking by his sides, "I didn't become a doctor just to watch all the people that I love die!" He paused, his voice softening at her anguished expression, "I'm sorry. For everything: all I ever wanted was your happiness…though I know that it didn't always seem that way. I just- I can't watch you die. But I suppose that you two would like a moment alone?"
"Yes," A glimmer of a grin played upon Elizabeth's bloodied lips, and for a moment she looked rather like her old self, "I'd make out with my fiancé on this operating table-if I didn't feel like death warmed up."
Raising his eyebrows, Victor shook his head slightly, as though to hide his small smile. "Goodbye dear sister."
"You know how much I hate saying goodbyes Victor; makes everything sound so final."
"I know…" Victor looked across at Jefferson and added stiffly, "I'll be waiting outside."
"Could you take Grace with you?" Jefferson asked, leaning forward in his seat as Victor nodded and took the child into his arms.
Casting one last glance at Elizabeth, Victor turned away and made for the staircase. As he climbed the stairs, Elizabeth began to cough again, and Victor quickened his pace; the laboratory door slamming behind him. Jefferson reached out and gently peeled away a stray hair that had stuck to Elizabeth's forehead, his other hand settling onto her back as she continued to cough. For a moment he feared that she would cough hard enough to make herself sick, but Elizabeth managed to swallow.
"Promise me?" She whispered, her throat raw from coughing," Promise me that you'll make sure that Grace knows how much I love her, and how sorry I am that I can't...I can't be with her?"
"I promise," Jefferson's fingers trailed down her face to cup her locked jaw, Elizabeth shivering at his touch.
He glanced down as she felt something cold brush against his skin and Jefferson gave hint of a smile as her fingers wound around his; nimbly slotting into place as though they had never been parted. The sharp edge from the onyx stone of her engagement ring cut into the palm of his hand, and with it, a realisation. "We're supposed to get married!" Jefferson's throat constricted, the words coming out in a choked rush, "And raises Grace, travel the realms, grow old together. It's not meant to be like this!"
"I'm sorry."
Warm beads of perspiration and damp tears brushed onto Jefferson's skin and he shook his head. "No, it's not your fault. But I can't lose you...Elizabeth? Elizabeth!"
Elizabeth's eyelids flickered at his voice and her glazed eyes opened, flickering with at the sight of him. Her bloodied lips parted, the crease in her brow furrowing as her erratic breathing began to slow.
"No matter what, I'll always be with you…"
"Elizabeth!"
Her body had stilled; dark pupils lacklustre. She seemed to fade away in the starched sheets, outlined by the dark tendrils of hair that framed her. Her fingers fell limply from around his, landing on the table with a heavy thud. In that moment of desperation, Jefferson recalled the rumours that he'd heard whispered across the realms, of a magic powerful enough to break any curse and transcend any realm: true love.
Without a second's hesitation, Jefferson leant over her body and pressed his lips to hers.
An electrifying chill rippled through him. Not daring to open his eyes, Jefferson tilted his head so that his forehead pressed against hers. The sheen upon her skin was now icy cold, a metallic taste upon his lips from her blood. Attempting to swallow the lump in his throat, Jefferson cradled her body to his, the sound of his lone heartbeat pounding in his ears.
A/N: Apologies for such a delayed update. This chapter has once of the most difficult for me to write, and I wanted to make sure it was a good as it possibly could be. I still have the epilogue to upload: and then possibly a sequel...