Chapter Text
Oliver, numb and drugged out, was quiet as he was being stitched up.
He was quiet when they slipped the catheter into his arm, setting up the flow of blood.
He was quiet when they clipped the heart monitor around his finger.
He was quiet when the others were expelled from the room, Danny pulling at Deb and Alice and Dia to try and get to him, to get to Oliver.
He was quiet when the door slammed shut, and they stayed.
He was quiet when the nurses sponged the blood from the line of sutures that ran down and across his chest.
He was quiet when they coiled the bandages around him, covering the wound with gauze.
He was quiet when tears started rolling down Emma’s face.
She swapped places with Melissa, Paul’s arms around her as she sobbed.
Emma touched Hidgens’ hand, both of them watching the nurses as they drew the bandages around him.
“I’m sorry about…” she trailed off, gesturing to his stomach.
“It’s ok- the withdrawal had to be triggered, and I wouldn’t have wanted to find out what Schaffer would’ve done if you hadn’t.”
“I still feel bad about it though…”
“Don’t,” He said, pulling her closer to him, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
Shaffer taped down the last of the bandages. She washed her hands and sent the nurses from the room, instructing them to update the others, that Oliver would be fine, that he was going to be ok.
She turned back to the group, drying her hands.
“Keep the mask on him.”
Then she left the room, carefully picking up the abandoned scalpel from where it had fallen from Charlotte’s grasp, white coat breezing behind her as she walked.
They leaped from the bed, falling over each other in their haste to get to Oliver’s side.
Oliver, who was still breathing through the oxygen mask.
Oliver, who’s blood dried across his skin.
Oliver, who had his most precious thing, his binder, ruined.
Oliver, who watched them through hazy and unfocused eyes.
Oliver, the strongest of them all, but who was still so, so young.
Melissa took hold of the sheets piled at the end of the bed, gently pulling them up to his shoulders, covering the blood, the bandages, the hurt.
His lips moved behind the mask, Melissa’s name just visible.
“You’re going to be ok,” Melissa said, voice low and teary.
Emma scrubbed the tears from her eyes and set her shoulders. “Paul? Can we talk?”
Paul set his hand on Melissa’s back, next to Hidgens’ on her shoulder. “We’ll be right back, ok?”
She nodded, not looking up at them, not taking her eyes off Oliver.
They slipped from the room, walking down the hallway a bit.
Emma took a deep breath and rounded on Paul.
“So the offer for the silent movie still stands.” Her face was red, and she avoided his eyes.
“Oh.” Paul was not entirely expecting this. He was pretty sure he was prepared for this, if he was being honest with himself, which he wasn’t.
“Like… like a date?”
“Yeah - like a date, Paul. I think I’m a little bit past the point of saying I like-like you,” she said, still not meeting his eyes.
Paul, not lying to himself anymore, was not prepared for this.
But who was, really? Who was ever prepared for love?
“I still really, really like you, Emma, just… platonically.”
“Oh. Ok.” She paused, contemplating. “Have you heard of a QPR?”
This was even less expected.
“Yes… oh!”
“Yeah.” She took his hands, finally meeting his eyes.
“Paul, I love you. Will you be my QPR?”
He tightened his hands around hers.
“Only if I can kiss you first.”
She nodded, a soft smile playing across her lips, her eyes sparkling.
He cupped her face in his hands, his long fingers shifting gently over her cheeks.
He leaned down and-
“Hey, guys?”
Remus had approached, trying not to startle them.
He didn’t succeed, and Emma and Paul both jumped at the sound of his voice.
Emma reluctantly pulled herself from Paul’s hands, turning to face Remus.
“I can come back if you want me to?”
“Nah, you’re good,” Emma said.
“Ok so- everyone’s doing ok, Charlotte got sick but is otherwise just guilty.”
Emma nodded, noticing the embellishments on his uniform for the first time.
“Those look new.”
“I was promoted. I’m now head of the Hatchetfield division of PEIP. It’s a pretty far cry from Beanie’s, huh?”
“God, no kidding. How the hell’d you go from new recruit to head honcho so fast?”
“Out of everyone they got off the island, I was the least traumatized. And I grew up bouncing around bases, so all this,” he gestured around him, “is pretty familiar to me.”
“Seems fair enough to me- Schaffer have anything to say about it?”
“She was reassigned- not sure where- but apparently triggering a group of wounded civilians who could potentially be hostiles isn’t technically ethical, so the position opened up pretty quickly.”
“Thank god, I hated her.”
“I did too,” He waved his hands, “anyway- I did come down here with a reason. The land in Colorado- the 5 acres- is still open to you Ms. Perkins,” Remus said, a knowing smile on his face.
“I might actually take you up on that one soon.”
Remus flashed a thumbs up at Emma, beaming at them, before turning and continuing down the hallway.
Emma turned back to him. “Anyway…”
He took her face in his hands again, and finally, finally, he kissed her.
She tasted like chapstick and bitter coffee and the toothpaste provided by the base.
She tasted like moonlight and a slow dance and like home.
When he pulled away - just centimeters - she breathed against his lips.
“Colorado?”
“Colorado,” He agreed, pulling her back to him.
It was a while before they returned to the room, but when they did, Oliver was sitting up in bed, watching Danny and Melissa, who leaned on one another over the armrests of their chairs, asleep.
He looked up when they came in, smiling, and waved them over.
Emma sat on the bed next to him. “Have they left at all?” She kept her voice as soft as she could.
Paul sat behind Emma on the bed, his arms folding over her shoulders around her, pressing a kiss to the back of her head.
“Nope.”
The door opened again.
Hidgens, entering with a clean shirt and jacket, presumably for Oliver, set them down, grabbing the blanket folded on the bed to Oliver’s left, shaking it out and draping it over Melissa and Danny.
He sat down on the end of Oliver’s bed, patting his leg. “Feeling any better?”
“A bit. Is Charlotte ok?”
Paul responded, his voice muffled, “she’s doing better. She got really sick after- puking y’ know? She feels terrible about what happened.”
“I don’t blame her. Not at all. I was... kind of aggressive in my withdrawal too. Not like that, but close enough. I get it. All’s forgiven.”
“She’ll be happy to hear that.”
“Are y’all together yet?”
“Queerplatonic partners,” Emma said, reaching up to pat Paul’s hair.
“Congrats!”
Paul tucked his face into the crook of Emma’s neck. She smelled like the shitty provided shampoo. She smelled like coffee. She smelled like dryer sheets and soap. She smelled like her. She smelled like love itself, like family and like truth. Because she was Emma.
Because she was Emma, and he loved her.
He loved her, and she loved him, and that was all.
And thus, they were happy.
Paul and Emma, in love, were happy. Hidgens and Melissa, safe and loved, were happy. Danny and Oliver, in the throes of young love, were happy. Ted and Charlotte, Bill and Alice and Deb and Dia were happy, because they were safe, they were whole, and they were surrounded by love and family and friends.
They were happy, because they knew.
They knew they would survive.
They knew there would be a happy ending.
They knew they would be ok.
Because after this night full of nightmares and things hiding in the dark corners, waiting to lunge out at you, you look out the window and there is light as far as you can see, and you can feel the warmth rising in your chest at the same pace at which the sun rises. And you know. You know it will be ok because the track skips and the sun sets, but the song will continue, and the sun will rise.
Because after all, I promised you, didn’t I?