His eyes find mine.
Unfocused.
Confused.
But he sees me.
I know he sees me.
"Prom... ised..." he manages.
"I know." Tears stream down my face. "I know you did. And you kept it. You came back. You're here."
"Love... you..."
Even now.
Even bleeding out on a table with a knife in his side.
He's telling me he loves me.
"I love you too." The words pour out of me—finally, desperately, too late and exactly on time. "I love you, Gunnar. So much. So please, please don't leave me. Please fight. Please stay."
His fingers twitch in mine.
Trying to squeeze.
Too weak to manage it.
His eyes start to close.
"Gunnar?" I squeeze his hand harder. "Gunnar, stay with me!"
"He's losing consciousness," Gwen says calmly. "It's okay. His body's protecting itself. We need to keep working."
"Is he—will he?—"
"He's fighting. That's what matters right now."
Fighting.
He's fighting.
I press my forehead to our joined hands, crying silently.
Please.
Please let him live.
Please give me the chance to love him properly.
Please.
The next fifteen minutes are the longest of my life.
I stay in the corner, out of the way but refusing to leave.
Watching Gwen and Aesir work.
