Chapter Text
Rosa POV:
10 April 1927, saint mongoose, intensive care room
— Leta, you have to wake up. I beg, crying, you can’t go. I need you, I can’t. You’ve got to… you’ve got to wake up, you’ve got to get better. My vision blurred. Please, I beg you, wake up. You can’t abandon Theseus. You cannot… leave me. I need you now. If you can hear me, wake up; give a sign, anything !
I wipe away my tears. I must be strong. I’m going to be there for Theseus for you, just as you would be. The door opens, Theseus and Thomas, coffee in hand. Theseus returns to his chair, taking Leta’s hand. She didn’t react; the tears came back unstoppable. I took a deep breath. Hold on. Thomas places my cup of coffee on the small table before coming over to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. We need you, come back, wake up !
— I don’t care about winning if she’s not all right,” cried Theseus softly, holding on to Leta.
I went to see him and he cuddles in my arms, crying. It’s not fair: the war can’t get the better of her! She deserves to live and be happy !
— She has to get better, he implored, breaking my heart more.
Nothing came. No words would help. She has to wake up. we can’t lose her !
One day later:
I stayed to enjoy the sight. Leta and Theseus, happy together ! Talking, holding hands, kissing! She’s getting better, healing slowly but surely. The two lovers need some time together. Thom’s came up behind me, slowly, scrutinizing me a little. I smile with relief and happiness, tears of happiness relieving the pressure.
— Rosa, comfort me gently Thomas, coming closer for a hug.
— They are tears of joy to see them together, to know that she is well. I dry my tears. They need time, just the two of them. I finally gave them some space, concentrating on Thomas, delight that he was here with me.
— Yes. He smiles before yawning. She’s doing well. He looks at me affectionately, then asks how I was.
— I’m fine, happy and relieved. And you ?
— Better now. He replies, with a tired, lined face.
— Ready to go back to the flat ?
He agrees, stretching a little. Thomas lay straight back on the sofa, physically and emotionally exhausted. He accepted a cup of tea. The kettle began to whistle, the cups already set.
— Here. I stop immediately. He fell asleep peacefully. I approach him quietly, put down the tea with a broad smile, then cover him gently.
I tiptoed back to my room, closing the door so as not to disturb his peace.