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The first thing Weiss Schnee noticed was the tug on her sleeve.
It was a tiny tug. Barely enough to disturb the white fabric of her doctor's coat, and certainly not enough to pull her away from the conversation she was having with a resident about a patient's bloodwork. Weiss had spent the better part of the morning in the hospital, moving between consultations, reviewing test results, signing prescriptions, and trying to convince a particularly stubborn surgeon that no, he could not simply ignore the hospital's updated scheduling system because he preferred the old one.
She was tired. Her feet hurt. Her coffee had gone cold approximately three hours ago, and she had been contemplating whether she could get away with skipping lunch when the tug came again.
A little harder this time.
"Dr. Schnee?" the resident was saying. "So, for the patient's—"
Tug.
Weiss lowered her gaze, already preparing to gently explain to a lost child that the hospital corridors were not an appropriate place to wander around alone.
Then she saw a pair of familiar silver eyes staring up at her.
Tiny red hood.
Those locks of soft white hair with red tips.
Black shoes with little white flowers.
Chubby cheeks.
A soft, round face that Weiss knew better than she knew the layout of her own apartment.
And two tiny hands gripping the sleeve of her white coat.
Weiss stopped breathing.
For one bewildered second, she genuinely thought exhaustion had finally driven her to hallucinate.
Then the little girl smiled.
"Mommy!"
Weiss's clipboard slipped from her fingers.
It hit the floor with a sharp clatter.
The resident jumped. A nurse walking past turned around. Somewhere behind Weiss, somebody muttered something about the coffee machine finally breaking down.
Weiss heard none of it.
"Elise?"
The little girl beamed as if she had just accomplished something magnificent.
"Mommy Weiss!"
"Oh, my goodness."
Weiss dropped to her knees so quickly that her coat flared around her, barely caring that she was in the middle of the corridor. Elise immediately threw herself into her arms, her little body warm and solid and wonderfully real.
Weiss caught her against her chest.
For a moment, she couldn't speak.
She buried her face in the soft dark hair of her daughter, inhaling the familiar scent of baby shampoo, warm cotton, and the faint strawberry smell of whatever snack Yang had probably given her on the way over. Her arms tightened around the little girl before she consciously remembered that Elise was two years old now, no longer the tiny newborn she had once been afraid to hold without a nurse standing nearby.
Two years old.
Two years of loving a little girl with every part of herself.
Two years of sharing custody with the woman she had once promised to love until her last breath.
Two years of trying to learn how to be a mother from two different homes while pretending that the sight of Ruby Rose's empty side of the bed no longer hurt.
And now Elise was standing in the middle of her hospital, clutching her coat as though she had every right in the world to be there.
Which, Weiss supposed, she did.
"Baby," Weiss whispered, cupping Elise's cheeks between her hands. "What are you doing here?"
Elise giggled.
"See you!"
"Yes, sweetheart, I can see that." Weiss brushed a stray lock of hair away from her daughter's forehead, her heart still beating much too quickly. "But how did you get here? Did Auntie Yang bring you?"
Elise nodded enthusiastically.
"Auntie Yang!"
Weiss's stomach tightened.
Yang Xiao Long did not ordinarily bring Elise to the hospital. Not without calling first. Not without warning Weiss, especially on a weekday when she was scheduled to spend the entire afternoon in the department.
And Yang knew the rules.
More importantly, Yang knew Ruby.
Weiss looked at her daughter again, forcing herself to keep her expression gentle.
"All right, my love. Where is Mommy Ruby?"
Elise lifted one little hand and pointed vaguely toward the hospital entrance.
"Home."
"Mommy is at home?"
"Uh-huh!"
Weiss swallowed.
"And who brought you here, sweetheart?"
"Auntie Yang!"
"Yes, I know Auntie Yang brought you, darling." Weiss stroked her cheek. "But why did she bring you to see Mommy Weiss?"
Elise considered this with the tremendous seriousness of a toddler being asked to explain a complicated scientific phenomenon.
Then she said, "Mommy sleepy."
Everything inside Weiss went still.
"Sleepy?"
Elise nodded.
"Mommy take big nap."
Weiss's fingers stopped moving against her daughter's cheek.
A big nap.
Those were not words she had expected to hear.
Ruby slept badly. Weiss knew that. Even after their divorce, she had remained painfully aware of the patterns of Ruby's illness, the good days and the bad ones, the medications that sometimes helped and sometimes left Ruby too exhausted to do anything beyond sitting on the sofa. She knew how Ruby could insist that she was fine while swaying on her feet. She knew how she could smile through pain until the smile became so thin that Weiss wanted to grab her by the shoulders and demand that she stop pretending.
And she knew the difference between Ruby being tired and Ruby being ill.
She knew because she had been there when the diagnosis had changed everything.
She had been there when Ruby's doctor explained what the disease meant, what it could do, and how unpredictable the symptoms might become. She had been there when Ruby had stared at the test results with trembling hands and asked, in a voice so small that Weiss had barely heard it, whether she would still be able to be a mother.
Weiss had held her then.
She had promised her that she would never have to face it alone.
And then, eventually, their marriage had fallen apart anyway.
The memories rose so abruptly that Weiss had to remind herself to breathe.
"Baby girl," she said softly, keeping her voice steady for Elise's sake, "when you say Mommy took a big nap, what do you mean?"
Elise's little eyebrows pulled together.
"Mommy sleeping."
"Was Mommy sleeping when Auntie Yang came?"
"Uh-huh."
"Did you try to wake her up?"
Another nod.
"Mommy?" Elise demonstrated, patting Weiss's arm with her tiny hand. "Mommy, wake up."
Weiss felt a cold sensation travel down her spine.
"And did Mommy wake up, sweetheart?"
Elise shook her head.
"No."
The corridor seemed to grow very quiet.
Weiss stared at her daughter.
Elise, blissfully unaware of the way the entire world had just tilted beneath her mother's feet, continued talking.
"Mommy no wake up. Auntie Yang say, 'Elise, come with me, baby.' Then we go bye-bye."
Weiss's mouth went dry.
"Did Auntie Yang tell you why Mommy was sleeping?"
Elise shrugged.
"Mommy tired."
Weiss's mind was already racing through possibilities, each one worse than the last.
Had Ruby taken her medication and experienced an adverse reaction? Had she fainted? Had she been running a fever? Had she been struggling to breathe? Had she been alone for hours before Yang arrived?
And why had Yang brought Elise to the hospital instead of calling an ambulance?
Unless—
Unless Yang had called her and Weiss had missed it.
Weiss abruptly reached for her phone.
Three missed calls.
Two from Yang.
One from a number she recognized as Ruby's.
The last call had come twenty-seven minutes earlier.
Twenty-seven minutes.
Weiss's heart slammed against her ribs.
She immediately called Yang.
It rang once.
Twice.
"WEISS!" Yang answered, and the sheer relief in her voice was almost enough to make Weiss's knees give way. "Oh, thank God. You've got Elise, right?"
Weiss closed her eyes for one second.
"Yes, I have Elise. Yang, what happened?"
There was a pause.
Not a long one.
But long enough.
"What happened?" Weiss repeated, her voice suddenly sharp enough to make the resident beside her take an instinctive step backward. "Yang, why is my two-year-old daughter in the middle of my hospital without either of her parents, and why has Elise just told me that Ruby wouldn't wake up?"
Yang exhaled shakily.
"Okay. All right. I was going to explain everything."
"Then start explaining."
"Ruby wasn't answering her phone this morning. I thought she was asleep, so I went over to check on her before taking Elise to the park. You know how Ruby gets when she's had a bad night."
Yes.
Weiss knew.
She knew all too well.
"She was in bed when I got there," Yang continued. "The curtains were closed. Elise was awake and playing in her room. I called Ruby a few times, and she didn't answer. I thought maybe she'd finally managed to get some proper sleep, so I went in to check on her."
Weiss tightened her hold around Elise.
"And?"
"And she was really difficult to wake up, Weiss."
The words landed like a blow.
"How difficult?"
"I shook her shoulder. I called her name. She barely reacted. I tried again, and she made this little noise, but she didn't open her eyes properly. She was breathing, but she looked awful. Pale. Sweaty. Her lips weren't blue or anything like that, but she was clammy, and she wasn't making any sense when she finally mumbled something."
Weiss's vision narrowed.
"Yang, did you call emergency services?"
"I—"
"Did you call an ambulance?"
"I was going to, but—"
"BUT WHAT?"
Several heads turned toward them.
Weiss didn't care.
Yang's voice broke slightly over the phone.
"She was breathing, Weiss! I panicked. I didn't know whether she was having one of those episodes or whether she'd just taken her medication and fallen into a really deep sleep. I tried calling you, but you didn't answer. I didn't want to leave Elise alone, and I couldn't exactly carry Ruby down three flights of stairs while keeping an eye on the baby, so I got Elise dressed and brought her to you because I thought you could—"
"Yang."
Weiss's voice was so quiet that Yang stopped talking.
"Listen to me very carefully. If Ruby is difficult to wake, you call emergency services. You do not wait for me to answer the phone. You do not assume she's sleeping. You call for medical help. Do you understand?"
"I know."
"No, I don't think you do, because Ruby is still at home, isn't she?"
"Yes."
"And you left her there?"
"I didn't know what else to do!"
Weiss closed her eyes.
For a fraction of a second, she was no longer standing in a busy hospital corridor with her daughter in her arms.
She was back in their old bedroom, sitting beside Ruby while the woman she loved slept through another episode, her fingers wrapped around Ruby's wrist as she counted every heartbeat.
She remembered the first time Ruby had frightened her like this. The first time she'd been unable to wake her properly. The first time she'd realized that being a doctor did not mean she could force the universe to spare the person she loved.
She remembered how Ruby had apologized afterward.
I'm sorry, Weiss. I didn't mean to scare you.
As though being ill were something Ruby had done to her.
As though Ruby needed to apologize for surviving.
Weiss opened her eyes.
"Yang, call emergency services now. Tell them Ruby is difficult to wake and has a known medical condition. Tell them when you last saw her responsive and what medication she might have taken. Then go back to the apartment if it's safe to do so, but don't delay the ambulance. Do you understand me?"
"Yes. Yes, I'm calling now."
"And Yang?"
"Yeah?"
Weiss looked down at Elise, who was now happily trying to investigate the pocket of her mother's white coat.
"Please don't let Ruby wake up alone."
Yang was silent for a moment.
Then, softly, she answered, "I won't."
The call ended.
Weiss stood perfectly still for a moment, her phone clutched in one hand.
Then she moved.
"Dr. Schnee?" her resident asked cautiously.
"Dr. Vale, I need you to take over my consultations for the next hour. Contact Dr. Goodwitch and tell her I have a family emergency. My patients can be reassigned."
"Of course. Is everything—"
"My daughter needs me."
That was all Weiss said.
She walked briskly toward her office, Elise held securely against her hip, her mind already working through everything she needed to do. She needed Ruby's medical records. She needed to know whether Ruby had taken her morning medication. She needed to know when Ruby had last eaten, whether she had been drinking enough water, whether she'd had any recent changes in her symptoms.
She needed to know whether Ruby was alive and conscious.
The thought made her stumble.
Elise immediately patted her cheek.
"Mommy Weiss?"
Weiss looked at her.
"Yes, darling?"
"Sad?"
Oh.
Oh, that was unfair.
That was so incredibly unfair.
Weiss stopped outside her office and leaned against the wall for a second, pressing her forehead to Elise's.
"No, sweetheart," she whispered, even though her eyes were already burning. "I'm just worried about Mommy Ruby."
Elise studied her face.
Then she reached up with both hands and patted Weiss's cheeks, just as Weiss had done to her moments earlier.
"Mommy Ruby sleepy."
Weiss swallowed.
"I know, baby."
"Wake Mommy Ruby?"
"Yes." Weiss kissed her daughter's forehead. "We're going to make sure Mommy Ruby gets help."
Elise nodded, apparently satisfied with this answer.
Then she rested her head on Weiss's shoulder and wrapped one tiny arm around her neck.
"Okay, Mommy."
Weiss held her a little closer.
And for the first time in two years, she prayed with the same desperate sincerity she had possessed on the day Ruby's doctors had first explained the disease to them.
Please.
Not Ruby.
Anyone but Ruby.
Ruby Rose's apartment had always been too warm.
That was one of the things Weiss remembered most clearly about living there. Ruby liked the heating higher than Weiss considered reasonable, and she insisted that blankets were a perfectly acceptable solution to every problem in existence. Cold feet? Blanket. Bad day? Blanket. Rain outside? Blanket and hot chocolate. Weiss once remembered finding Ruby wrapped in three blankets in the middle of summer because she'd decided that the air conditioning was making her feel lonely.
It had been ridiculous.
It had been adorable.
It had been home.
Now, standing in the living room with Elise balanced on her hip, Weiss found the warmth suffocating.
The apartment was quiet.
Too quiet.
A half-finished cup of tea sat on the coffee table. Ruby's phone lay facedown beside it. One of Elise's picture books was open on the floor, its pages bent where the little girl had apparently been playing before Yang arrived.
There was a plate in the kitchen with two pieces of toast on it.
Untouched.
Weiss stared at the plate for a moment.
Then she looked at the medication organizer beside the kettle.
Several compartments were empty.
Her heart sank.
She knew Ruby's routines. She knew how carefully Ruby was supposed to take her medication, how certain doses could leave her exhausted, and how missed doses or complications could cause symptoms to worsen. She knew that the disease could affect Ruby differently from one day to the next, and that no amount of medical knowledge could make an episode like this harmless.
She also knew Ruby.
Ruby would rather swallow a handful of discomfort and insist that she was fine than admit that she needed someone to take care of her.
Especially Weiss.
Especially after the divorce.
Weiss had learned that the hard way.
They had once been the sort of couple who knew everything about each other. Weiss knew Ruby's favorite pastries, the exact way she liked her coffee, the little noise she made when she was trying not to laugh, and the fact that she always stole the warmest part of the blanket without realizing it.
Ruby knew that Weiss became irritable when she skipped meals, that she rubbed the bridge of her nose when she was stressed, and that she secretly loved the awful little cartoons Ruby drew in the margins of her medical notes.
They had known each other so completely that Weiss had once believed nothing could ever come between them.
But illness could be cruel.
Fear could be cruel.
And two people who loved each other could still hurt each other in ways neither knew how to repair.
The divorce had not erased any of that knowledge.
It had merely made it harder to use.
"Mommy Weiss?"
Weiss blinked.
Elise was pointing down the hallway.
"Mommy Ruby room."
"I know, sweetheart."
"Mommy sleeping there."
Weiss's throat tightened.
She crouched and gently set Elise on the sofa.
"Baby girl, I need you to stay right here for a moment, all right? Auntie Yang is coming back, and the doctors are coming to help Mommy Ruby. I need you to stay with me until then."
Elise nodded solemnly.
"Stay."
"That's my good girl."
Weiss kissed the top of her head, then stood and walked toward Ruby's bedroom.
The door was half-open.
She pushed it gently.
And there she was.
Ruby lay on her side beneath the pale grey duvet, one hand curled near her face. Her black hair spilled across the pillow, the red tips standing out against the white pillowcase. Her skin was frighteningly pale, and a sheen of sweat glistened along her forehead.
Weiss stopped at the doorway.
For one horrible moment, she could not make herself move.
Ruby looked so small.
She had always looked small when she slept, even when they were married, even when she used to curl herself around Weiss and steal all the pillows. But there was a stillness about her now that made Weiss's stomach twist.
"Ruby?"
Nothing.
Weiss crossed the room.
"Ruby, honey, it's Weiss."
She reached for Ruby's shoulder, touching her carefully.
"Ruby, can you hear me?"
Ruby made a faint, indistinct sound.
Her eyelids fluttered, but she did not properly wake.
Weiss immediately checked her breathing and pulse while keeping her voice low and steady. Her pulse was present, but her level of responsiveness was deeply concerning. She didn't try to force Ruby awake or give her anything to drink. She kept her positioned safely while watching her breathing, prepared to follow the emergency dispatcher's instructions.
"Ruby, sweetheart, come on."
She brushed damp hair away from Ruby's forehead.
"Baby, I need you to open your eyes for me."
Ruby's brow furrowed.
Her lips moved.
Weiss leaned closer.
"What was that?"
A whisper.
Barely audible.
"Elise..."
Weiss's heart cracked right down the middle.
"Elise is safe, sweetheart. She's with me. She's okay."
Ruby's breathing shifted slightly.
"Where..."
"You're at home, Ruby. You're in your bedroom. I'm here."
Ruby's eyelids moved again.
For a second, Weiss thought she might finally wake.
Instead, Ruby's head sank deeper into the pillow.
Weiss pressed two fingers to Ruby's wrist and counted her pulse again, her own breathing becoming increasingly shallow.
"Come on, Ruby. Stay with me."
She had said those words before.
She had said them during the first severe episode.
She had said them in the hospital after Ruby's diagnosis, when Ruby had started crying because she was terrified that the disease would take away her ability to live the life she'd planned.
She had said them when Ruby had been so exhausted after Elise's birth that she had fallen asleep halfway through telling Weiss about a dream she'd had.
And she had said them during their last terrible argument, when Ruby had accused Weiss of looking at her like a patient instead of a wife.
I don't need another doctor, Weiss. I need my wife.
Weiss had been so exhausted and so afraid that she had answered with the cruelest words she could have chosen.
Then stop making me feel like I'm the only person keeping you alive.
She had regretted it before the words had even finished leaving her mouth.
Ruby had gone silent.
Not angry. Not shouting.
Just silent.
And eventually, after months of pain and resentment and fear, they had signed the divorce papers.
Weiss had never stopped loving her.
She had simply learned to love her from a distance, because distance had seemed safer than continuing to hurt each other.
Now she was kneeling beside Ruby's bed, watching the woman she loved struggle to wake, and the distance felt like the most foolish thing she had ever allowed herself to accept.
"Ruby," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please, honey. Please wake up."
A siren sounded faintly in the distance.
Weiss had never been so grateful to hear one.
The paramedics arrived within minutes.
Weiss had already moved Elise into the living room and made sure she was safely occupied with a stuffed rabbit she kept at Ruby's apartment. The moment the paramedics entered, Weiss gave them Ruby's known medical condition, the details Yang had provided, the medication organizer she had found, and everything she had observed herself.
She answered their questions clearly, her physician's training taking over even as her heart tried to claw its way out of her chest.
When had Ruby last been seen well?
Yang had said the previous evening, when Ruby had sent her a message.
Had Ruby been eating?
Apparently not much.
Had she been drinking?
Weiss couldn't say.
What medication had she taken?
They would need to confirm that from the prescription records and packaging.
Had she experienced similar episodes before?
Yes.
Was this one typical?
No.
Not like this.
Not this unresponsive.
One paramedic checked Ruby's vital signs while another prepared equipment. They spoke to her, assessed her response, and continued their examination. Weiss remained close enough to answer questions but gave them room to work.
Then one of them looked up.
"Doctor, we're taking her in. Her reduced responsiveness is concerning, and we need to establish the cause urgently."
"Which hospital?"
"Central."
"I'm coming."
"We'll have a family member accompany us if space permits. You'll need to follow in your own vehicle if not."
"I'll follow."
Weiss didn't argue.
She didn't waste time trying to convince them that she was a doctor, that she knew the hospital, that she could help.
She knew when to step back.
She also knew that she could not stay behind.
A soft cry came from the living room.
"Mommy Weiss?"
Weiss turned.
Elise stood beside the sofa, her stuffed rabbit dragging along the floor.
She looked frightened now.
Perhaps she had heard the sirens. Perhaps she'd seen the strangers in uniforms carrying her mother out of the bedroom. Perhaps, in her own small way, she had finally begun to understand that something was wrong.
Weiss hurried to her.
"Oh, baby girl."
She crouched and gathered Elise into her arms.
"What's wrong?"
"Mommy Ruby bye-bye?"
Weiss closed her eyes briefly.
"Mommy Ruby needs the doctors to help her, sweetheart."
"Doctor help?"
"Yes."
"Mommy Ruby owie?"
Weiss kissed her forehead.
"I don't know exactly what's wrong yet, darling. But the doctors are going to look after her."
Elise's lower lip trembled.
"Want Mommy Ruby."
The words nearly undid her.
"I know, baby. I know."
"Want Mommy Ruby now."
Weiss pressed her face against Elise's hair.
"I know."
The paramedics wheeled Ruby past the doorway.
For a brief moment, Weiss saw her face beneath the oxygen equipment they were using to support her care. Her eyes remained closed.
Weiss rose immediately, holding Elise securely.
"Yang will be here in a minute," she told her daughter. "We're going to go to the hospital, too."
Elise nodded against her shoulder.
Then, in a tiny voice, she asked, "Mommy Ruby wake up there?"
Weiss couldn't promise her that.
She wouldn't lie to her daughter, even to protect her from a truth she was too young to understand.
So she kissed her forehead and answered, "We're going to do everything we can to help Mommy Ruby wake up, baby girl."
Yang arrived just as Weiss was preparing to leave.
She came through the door breathless, her golden hair a mess, her eyes red-rimmed with fear.
"Where is she?"
"Already in the ambulance."
Yang looked as though someone had struck her.
"Oh, God."
"We're going to the hospital." Weiss grabbed Elise's bag from the chair and checked that her daughter's little water bottle and a change of clothes were inside. "Can you come with me? I need someone to stay with Elise while I speak to the doctors."
"Of course."
Yang reached for the little girl.
Elise immediately clung tighter to Weiss's neck.
"No!"
Yang froze.
Weiss gently rubbed Elise's back.
"Baby, Auntie Yang is going to come with us."
"No! Mommy Weiss!"
"Okay, sweetheart. Okay." Weiss adjusted her hold. "Mommy Weiss is here."
Elise buried her face in Weiss's shoulder.
Yang looked devastated.
"She hasn't been away from Ruby for very long today," Yang explained quietly. "She doesn't understand what's happening."
Weiss looked at her sister-in-law—or former sister-in-law, technically. Divorce had made the family tree complicated, but Yang had never stopped being Ruby's sister, and she had never stopped being someone Weiss trusted.
"I know."
"I'm sorry."
Weiss looked at her.
Yang's face crumpled.
"I should have called an ambulance immediately. I should have known. I saw her like that, and I just—" Yang dragged a hand over her face. "She's my little sister, Weiss. I was scared."
Weiss felt a flash of anger so sharp she could taste it.
Then she looked at Yang's trembling hands and remembered that she was not the only person in the world who loved Ruby.
Yang had grown up with Ruby.
She had spent years protecting her little sister from scraped knees, nightmares, bad dates, and the occasional ill-advised attempt to build a homemade rocket in the backyard.
She had watched Ruby become a mother.
She had watched her struggle with her disease.
And today, she had found her unresponsive in bed.
Yang had been frightened, too.
Weiss exhaled slowly.
"We'll talk about it later," she said. "Right now, Ruby needs us."
Yang nodded, wiping her eyes.
"Right."
Weiss adjusted Elise on her hip, then reached out and squeezed Yang's shoulder.
"We'll get through this."
She didn't know whether she was talking to Yang or herself.
The emergency department was a blur of bright lights, clipped instructions, and hurried footsteps.
Weiss arrived with Elise just as the paramedics were bringing Ruby through the ambulance entrance. A nurse recognized her immediately and directed her toward the resuscitation area, where the team was assessing Ruby's condition.
Weiss gave the emergency physician a concise summary of Ruby's medical history and the circumstances surrounding the episode. She told them about the difficulty waking her, the lack of food on the plate, the medication organizer, and the fact that Ruby had reportedly been unresponsive for an unknown length of time.
Then she stepped back.
It was one of the hardest things she had ever done.
She could have taken over the room. She could have demanded access to every test result, insisted on standing at Ruby's bedside, and attempted to direct the entire assessment.
But Ruby was a patient now.
And Weiss was too close.
She knew that.
So she allowed the emergency team to work.
They checked Ruby's vital signs and blood glucose, reviewed her medications, took blood samples, and began investigating possible causes of her reduced responsiveness. They considered complications related to her known disease, medication effects, dehydration, infection, and other acute problems that could cause someone to become difficult to wake.
Nothing was assumed.
Nothing was dismissed.
Weiss sat in a small family consultation room with Elise in her lap, trying to answer her daughter's increasingly anxious questions.
"Mommy Ruby here?"
"Yes, sweetheart. She's here."
"See Mommy Ruby?"
"As soon as the doctors say we can, darling."
"Mommy Ruby wake up?"
Weiss stroked Elise's hair.
"We're waiting to find out."
Elise thought about this.
Then she held up her stuffed rabbit.
"Bunny wait, too."
Weiss's eyes stung.
"Yes," she whispered. "Bunny can wait with us."
Elise placed the rabbit carefully on Weiss's knee and leaned back against her chest.
For a little while, she was quiet.
Then she asked, "Mommy Weiss sad 'cause Mommy Ruby sleeping?"
Weiss stared at the wall.
There were a hundred answers she could have given.
She could have said that she was worried because Ruby was sick. She could have explained that sometimes the doctors needed time to understand what was happening. She could have distracted Elise with a story or promised her a treat if she stayed calm.
Instead, she held her daughter a little closer and said, "Yes, baby girl. Mommy Weiss is sad because Mommy Ruby is very important to her."
Elise tilted her head.
"Love Mommy Ruby?"
Weiss's breath caught.
There was no point pretending otherwise.
"Yes, darling."
"Lots?"
Weiss laughed once, a broken little sound that barely made it past her throat.
"Lots and lots."
Elise seemed pleased by this.
She settled against Weiss again, rubbing her cheek against the lapel of her white coat.
"Mommy Ruby loves Mommy Weiss."
Weiss closed her eyes.
"Oh, sweetheart."
"Mommy Ruby say."
"She does, does she?"
"Uh-huh." Elise nodded against her chest. "Mommy Ruby kiss picture."
Weiss went completely still.
"What picture, baby?"
Elise wriggled around and reached into the little pocket of her cardigan. Her fingers struggled with the fabric before she finally pulled out a small, folded piece of paper.
Weiss took it carefully.
It was a photograph.
An old one.
She recognized it immediately.
It had been taken on a summer afternoon, not long after Elise's first birthday. Ruby was sitting on the grass in the park, her red hood spread behind her like a blanket. Weiss sat beside her, one arm around Ruby's shoulders and the other holding Elise, who had been laughing so hard that her little face was scrunched up.
Weiss remembered that day.
Ruby had been feeling well enough to spend the afternoon outside. They had bought ice cream. Elise had gotten chocolate all over Weiss's blouse. Ruby had laughed until she had to hold her stomach, and Weiss had scolded her for encouraging their daughter's criminal behavior.
It had been one of the last photographs taken before the final, painful stretch of their marriage.
Weiss turned the picture over.
There was handwriting on the back.
Ruby's handwriting.
For Elise, so she always remembers that love can make a family, even when the family changes shape.
Weiss couldn't breathe.
She stared at the words until they blurred.
"Mommy Ruby kiss picture," Elise repeated, as though explaining something obvious. "At home. Mommy kiss."
Weiss pressed the photograph to her chest.
She hadn't known Ruby kept it.
She hadn't known Ruby kissed it.
She hadn't known that somewhere in that apartment, among the medication organizers and half-finished cups of tea, Ruby had kept a little piece of their family close enough to touch.
She bowed her head over Elise's hair.
For the first time that day, she cried.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.
Just a quiet, helpless stream of tears that she couldn't stop.
Elise looked up at her, startled.
"Mommy Weiss cry?"
Weiss immediately wiped her cheeks.
"Just a little, sweetheart."
Elise reached up and patted her face.
"No cry."
Weiss gave a shaky laugh.
"I'm trying, baby."
"Mommy Ruby wake up."
Weiss looked down at her daughter.
Elise said it with such absolute certainty, as though she had decided that the world would simply have to cooperate.
Weiss kissed her forehead.
"I hope so, darling."
Then she held her close and waited.
It was nearly an hour before the emergency physician came to speak to them.
Weiss stood the moment she saw her colleague approaching.
"How is she?"
The physician looked serious, but not panicked.
"She's still being assessed. Her blood glucose was low, and she's showing signs of dehydration. We're treating those problems while we investigate why she became so difficult to wake. Her known medical condition and medication history may be relevant, but we don't want to attribute everything to that without checking for other causes."
Weiss nodded, absorbing every word.
"Has she regained consciousness?"
"She's beginning to respond more consistently to stimulation, but she's not fully alert yet. We're monitoring her closely and will decide on further investigations based on how she progresses and what the tests show."
Weiss let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"Can I see her?"
"Briefly. She needs rest, and we'll need to continue monitoring her."
"Of course."
The physician's expression softened.
"Dr. Schnee, I know this is difficult when the patient is someone you love. You're doing the right thing by letting the team manage her care."
Weiss almost laughed at that.
Someone she loved.
It sounded so simple.
As though love were something she could put neatly into a chart.
As though it were possible to stop being a doctor and simply be a woman who was terrified of losing her ex-wife.
"Thank you," she managed.
She turned to Yang.
"Can you stay with Elise?"
Yang nodded immediately.
"Of course."
Weiss crouched in front of her daughter.
"Baby girl, I'm going to see Mommy Ruby for a little while. Auntie Yang is going to stay with you."
Elise's face crumpled.
"Go Mommy Ruby?"
"Just for a little while, sweetheart."
"No! Elise go!"
Weiss's heart twisted.
She looked toward the physician, who considered the situation before nodding.
"We can allow her to visit briefly if she's calm and supervised. She'll need to stay away from the equipment."
Weiss looked back at Elise.
"Would you like to come see Mommy Ruby, darling?"
Elise nodded so hard her little hood nearly slipped off.
"YES."
"All right. But you have to hold my hand, and you must be gentle. Mommy Ruby is very tired."
"Gentle," Elise promised.
Weiss took her hand.
And together, they went to see Ruby.
Ruby looked different in the hospital bed.
Not because of the equipment or the IV line or the monitors that tracked her vital signs. Weiss had seen countless patients surrounded by medical equipment. She understood what each piece did, why it was necessary, and what the numbers meant.
No.
Ruby looked different because she wasn't moving.
Ruby was movement.
Ruby was restless hands and expressive eyebrows, quick laughter and faster words. Ruby was the woman who talked with her entire body, who waved her arms when she told a story, who bounced on her toes when she was excited, who had once nearly fallen off a kitchen stool because she'd been trying to explain a theory about weapon engineering while simultaneously eating a cookie.
Seeing her lie so still felt wrong.
Weiss approached the bedside slowly.
"Hi, Ruby."
There was no answer.
Elise squeezed her hand.
"Mommy Ruby?"
Ruby's eyelids fluttered.
Weiss immediately leaned forward.
"Ruby? Honey, can you hear us?"
Ruby's lips parted.
A faint sound escaped her.
Weiss glanced toward the nurse, who nodded encouragingly but reminded her to keep the visit calm.
"That's it, sweetheart," Weiss whispered. "Take your time."
Ruby's eyes opened a fraction.
They were unfocused at first, drifting across the room without settling on anything. Then, slowly, they moved toward the sound of Weiss's voice.
For one moment, Ruby simply stared.
Weiss watched recognition struggle through the haze.
Then Ruby's brow furrowed.
"Weiss...?"
The sound was barely more than a breath.
Weiss's knees nearly gave way.
"I'm here."
Ruby blinked slowly.
"Why..."
"You're in the hospital, honey. You became very difficult to wake up, and Yang called for help. The doctors are taking care of you."
Ruby seemed to struggle with the words.
Her gaze drifted toward the small figure standing beside Weiss.
Elise had both hands wrapped around Weiss's leg.
"Mommy Ruby!" the toddler cried.
Ruby's expression changed.
It was subtle at first, just the faintest movement around her eyes. Then her entire face crumpled with an emotion so raw that Weiss felt it in her own chest.
"Elise..."
The little girl tried to climb onto the bed.
Weiss caught her gently.
"Careful, baby. Mommy Ruby needs to rest."
"Want hug!"
"I know, darling. Let's ask the nurse where you can stand safely."
The nurse helped them position Elise beside the bed, far enough from the equipment to avoid disturbing it.
Ruby lifted one trembling hand.
Elise immediately reached for it.
Their fingers touched.
"Mommy," Elise whispered.
Ruby's eyes filled with tears.
"Oh, my little rose."
Weiss looked away for a second, pressing her lips together.
Ruby rubbed Elise's fingers with her thumb, her movements weak and slow.
"Did you... go with Auntie Yang?"
Elise nodded.
"Go see Mommy Weiss!"
A faint, exhausted smile appeared on Ruby's face.
"Did you?"
"Uh-huh!"
"Good girl."
Elise leaned closer.
"Mommy Ruby sleep too much."
Ruby's smile faded.
For a moment, she looked frightened.
Then she glanced toward Weiss.
Their eyes met.
There was so much between them that neither of them knew how to say aloud.
Fear.
Guilt.
Old love.
New boundaries.
The years they had spent together, and the years they had spent apart.
Ruby swallowed painfully.
"I'm sorry."
Weiss's expression changed immediately.
"No."
Ruby blinked.
"I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice weak. "I didn't mean to... scare her."
"Ruby."
"I didn't know I was going to—"
"Ruby, stop."
The words came out more sharply than Weiss intended.
Ruby flinched.
Weiss hated herself for it.
She took a slow breath, lowered her voice, and stepped closer to the bed.
"I'm not angry with you, honey."
Ruby stared at her.
"You look angry."
"I'm frightened."
Ruby's eyes filled again.
Weiss reached for the hand that wasn't holding Elise's.
She paused for half a second, remembering that they were divorced, that she could not assume the same liberties she had once taken for granted.
Then Ruby's fingers moved weakly against the sheets, turning toward her.
An invitation.
Weiss took her hand.
"Oh, Ruby."
Ruby's grip was barely there.
"I didn't want..." She swallowed. "I didn't want Elise to see me like that."
Weiss looked at their daughter, who was now trying to explain to Ruby that Auntie Yang had given her a biscuit in the car.
Then she looked back at Ruby.
"She's two years old, sweetheart. She doesn't understand everything that's happening. But she knows you love her. She knows you're her mommy."
Ruby's mouth trembled.
"I wanted to get up."
"I know."
"I heard her. I think I heard her calling me."
Weiss's throat tightened.
"That's all right."
"I tried to open my eyes."
"Ruby, you don't have to explain."
"But—"
"You don't have to apologize for being sick."
Ruby went very still.
Weiss squeezed her hand gently.
"You don't have to apologize for frightening me. You don't have to apologize for needing help. You don't have to apologize for any of this."
Ruby stared at her with wide, exhausted eyes.
Then she whispered, "You used to hate it."
Weiss felt the words like a knife between her ribs.
"No, baby."
"You used to get so upset when I couldn't do things."
"I was scared."
"You said—"
"I know what I said."
Weiss lowered her head.
She could still remember the argument. Every word. Every awful, thoughtless syllable.
She had been frightened by Ruby's illness, frustrated by the uncertainty, exhausted from balancing her work and her marriage and the constant fear that something would happen when she wasn't there.
But none of that excused what she had said.
"I was wrong," Weiss whispered. "I was so wrong, Ruby."
Ruby's eyes shone.
"Weiss..."
"I should never have said those things to you. You were ill, and you needed me, and I made you feel like you were a burden." Weiss's voice trembled. "You were never a burden to me."
Ruby turned her face slightly toward the pillow.
A tear slid down her cheek.
Weiss wanted to wipe it away.
She wanted to gather Ruby into her arms and hold her the way she had before, when there had been no question about whether she was allowed to touch her, when Ruby's place had been beside her in bed and Weiss's place had been wherever Ruby needed her.
But Ruby was weak and unwell, and Weiss would not turn this moment into something Ruby had to manage.
So she simply held her hand.
"I'm sorry," Weiss whispered. "I am so, so sorry."
Ruby's fingers tightened faintly around hers.
Then Elise, who had apparently grown bored of the adults being emotional, leaned forward and announced, "Mommy Weiss kiss Mommy Ruby!"
Both women froze.
Weiss stared at her daughter.
Ruby stared at Weiss.
The nurse suddenly became intensely interested in the equipment beside the bed.
"Elise," Weiss managed.
"Kiss!" Elise repeated, delighted by the reaction. "Mommy Weiss kiss!"
Ruby's cheeks flushed faintly.
Even in her exhausted state, she managed to look thoroughly embarrassed.
"She's... learned that from you."
Weiss blinked.
"Excuse me? I believe you were the one who insisted on kissing me every time I walked into a room."
Ruby's lips twitched.
"You liked it."
"I did."
The answer came too quickly.
Too honestly.
The little smile on Ruby's face faded into something quieter.
Weiss looked down at their joined hands.
"I still..." She stopped.
Ruby waited.
Weiss swallowed.
"I still care about you very much."
Ruby's eyes filled again.
"I know."
And somehow, those two words hurt more than anything else.
Because Ruby did know.
She had always known.
They had simply stopped knowing what to do with it.
The doctors eventually insisted that Ruby needed to rest.
Her responsiveness had improved, but she remained exhausted and required close monitoring while they investigated the cause of the episode and treated her dehydration and low blood glucose. Further results were still pending, and the team wanted to observe how she responded to treatment before making decisions about discharge.
Weiss accepted that.
She had no intention of arguing with a medical team that was doing exactly what Ruby needed.
Elise, on the other hand, had no intention of accepting anything.
"No go," she announced when Weiss lifted her from the chair beside Ruby's bed.
"Sweetheart, Mommy Ruby needs to sleep."
"Elise sleep Mommy Ruby!"
Weiss's heart melted.
"I know, baby. But there isn't enough room for you to sleep safely here."
"Lap!"
Ruby, who had been watching them with half-lidded eyes, managed a tiny smile.
"She... gets that from you, too."
Weiss gave her a look.
"Would you like to explain to our daughter that hospital beds are not playground equipment?"
Ruby's smile widened faintly.
"No."
"Traitor."
A weak, breathy laugh escaped Ruby.
It was the most wonderful sound Weiss had heard all day.
She looked at Ruby, unable to hide the relief that washed through her.
Ruby noticed.
Of course she noticed.
Even exhausted, even ill, even barely able to keep her eyes open, Ruby still noticed Weiss's smallest expressions.
"I'm okay," Ruby murmured.
Weiss's face softened.
"You're not completely okay yet, honey."
Ruby looked away.
"Almost."
"Almost is good. We'll take almost."
Weiss brushed a strand of hair from Ruby's forehead, then paused.
"May I?"
Ruby looked back at her.
For a moment, the question seemed to confuse her.
Then she understood.
Her eyes softened.
"Yes."
Weiss gently smoothed Ruby's hair back.
The gesture was so familiar that both of them fell silent.
Weiss had done it a thousand times before.
When Ruby had been sick with a cold.
When she had fallen asleep on the sofa after an exhausting day.
When she'd been pregnant and unable to get comfortable.
When she'd been frightened by a test result and tried to hide it behind a joke.
Weiss had always smoothed Ruby's hair back.
Some habits, apparently, did not know how to die.
Ruby's eyes slowly closed.
"Don't go," she whispered.
Weiss stopped moving.
Ruby seemed to realize what she had said only after the words had left her mouth. Her eyes opened a fraction, and embarrassment flickered across her face.
"I mean... Elise..."
Weiss's chest tightened.
"Ruby."
Ruby looked at her.
"I'll stay until you're settled, and I'll make sure Elise is looked after. You're not going to be left alone while the doctors are caring for you."
Ruby swallowed.
"You're working."
"I have colleagues."
"You have patients."
"They have other doctors."
"Weiss—"
"Ruby, darling."
The endearment slipped out so naturally that both women went quiet.
Weiss's expression softened.
"Please don't worry about my schedule right now."
Ruby stared at her.
Then, very slowly, she nodded.
"Okay."
Weiss kissed her forehead.
It was a small kiss.
A gentle one.
The kind of kiss she had given Ruby so many times that she had once stopped thinking about it.
But Ruby's eyes fluttered shut, and her fingers tightened around Weiss's hand.
For a moment, she looked peaceful.
Weiss stood beside the bed, one hand resting lightly against Ruby's hair, and wished that she could somehow make the world gentler for her.
She couldn't cure the disease with a kiss.
She couldn't promise that there would never be another frightening episode.
She couldn't undo the years of pain between them.
But she could stay.
And for now, that would have to be enough.
Later that evening, Yang returned with food for Weiss and a change of clothes for Elise.
Weiss had managed to get their daughter to eat half a sandwich and a few pieces of fruit before the little girl began nodding off against her shoulder. Yang offered to take Elise home for the night, but Elise objected so fiercely that even the nurse at the station laughed.
"No! Mommy Weiss!"
Yang raised both hands.
"Okay, okay. I see how it is."
Weiss smiled tiredly.
"She's had a difficult day."
"So have you."
Weiss didn't answer.
Yang sat beside her.
For a while, they watched Ruby sleep.
Her breathing was steadier now. The doctors were continuing to monitor her, and while the immediate signs were encouraging, they had not yet established exactly why she had become so difficult to wake.
Yang rubbed her palms against her jeans.
"Can I tell you something?"
Weiss looked at her.
"Of course."
"I think Ruby's been worse lately."
Weiss's stomach tightened.
"How long?"
Yang hesitated.
"A few weeks, maybe. She keeps saying she's tired. She cancels plans. Sometimes she doesn't answer her phone for hours, and when I ask if she's okay, she says she's just having a bad day."
Weiss stared at Ruby.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Yang's expression twisted.
"Because you're divorced."
The words fell between them.
Weiss looked down.
Of course.
Of course that was the answer.
She and Ruby had spent two years trying to respect the boundaries they'd set after their separation. They shared custody of Elise, coordinated schedules, exchanged updates about their daughter, and kept their conversations polite.
They didn't discuss Ruby's bad days unless Ruby chose to tell Weiss.
They didn't discuss the nights Ruby couldn't sleep, the mornings she struggled to get out of bed, or the way she sometimes forgot to eat when she was exhausted.
Weiss had thought she was respecting Ruby's independence.
Perhaps Ruby had thought she was protecting Weiss from worry.
Perhaps they had both been trying so hard not to hurt each other that they had forgotten how to ask for help.
"I didn't want to interfere," Yang continued. "I thought maybe Ruby would tell you if she needed you."
Weiss gave a small, painful laugh.
"Ruby doesn't tell anyone when she needs help."
Yang looked at her.
"Neither do you."
Weiss turned toward her.
Yang's expression was gentle now.
"You two are so alike it's ridiculous. You both think you have to be the strong one. Ruby doesn't want you worrying about her, and you don't want to make her feel like she can't manage her own life. So you both keep everything to yourselves until something like this happens."
Weiss's jaw tightened.
"I know."
"Do you?"
Weiss looked away.
Yang sighed.
"I'm not saying you should get back together. That's between you and Ruby. But she still loves you, Weiss."
Weiss's eyes snapped toward her.
Yang gave her a tired look.
"Oh, come on. You saw her face when she woke up and saw you. She looked like she'd found the sun."
Weiss couldn't speak.
"And she still has that stupid picture."
Weiss looked down at the photograph she'd carefully placed inside her handbag.
Yang noticed.
"She keeps it in her bedside drawer. Sometimes she takes it out when she's having a bad day."
Weiss felt her eyes burn.
"Why didn't she tell me?"
"Because she's Ruby."
Yang leaned back in the chair.
"And because you're Weiss."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Yang reached over and squeezed Weiss's shoulder.
"She doesn't need you to be her doctor all the time. Sometimes she just needs you to be the person who knows how she takes her tea."
Weiss stared at Ruby.
She knew how Ruby took her tea.
She knew how she liked her toast, how she preferred her blankets, how she liked her hair brushed away from her face when she was tired.
She knew that Ruby hated sleeping in complete silence, that she liked the curtains open just enough to let a little moonlight into the room, and that she always reached for Weiss in her sleep.
Weiss knew so many things.
And somehow, over the years, she had begun to think that knowing those things meant she had to fix everything.
She had forgotten that sometimes, love was simply remembering to bring someone a glass of water.
Sometimes it was sitting beside them without demanding an explanation.
Sometimes it was holding their hand while the doctors worked.
Sometimes it was staying.
Weiss looked at Yang.
"Thank you."
Yang nodded.
"Just don't yell at me again."
Weiss gave her a tired, watery smile.
"I make no promises."
"There's the Schnee I know."
For the first time all day, Weiss laughed.
Quietly.
Briefly.
But it was real.
It was past midnight when Ruby woke again.
The hospital room was dim, lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp and the monitor beside her bed. The hallway beyond the door was quieter now, the frantic activity of the emergency department reduced to the steady rhythm of night-shift care.
Weiss sat in the chair beside Ruby's bed.
Elise slept curled against her chest, one little hand tucked beneath her chin, her stuffed rabbit trapped between them. Yang had gone home to collect a few things and promised to return early in the morning.
Weiss had not moved more than a few feet from Ruby's bedside since the evening.
She had reviewed the available results with the treating team, answered their questions, and made sure Ruby's medical history had been accurately documented. Then she had put her phone on silent, turned away from her work emails, and settled into the chair with Elise.
For once, the hospital could manage without her.
Ruby blinked slowly.
Her throat felt dry, her limbs heavy, and her head ached in that unpleasant, distant way that made the world feel slightly unreal.
She shifted.
Immediately, Weiss looked up.
"Hey."
Ruby stared at her.
"Weiss?"
"Hi, honey."
Ruby blinked again.
Then she looked down at the little girl sleeping in Weiss's arms.
"Elise..."
"She's right here."
Ruby's face softened.
"She's okay?"
"She's fine, darling. She ate, she played with Auntie Yang, she insisted on seeing you, and then she decided that Mommy Weiss makes an excellent mattress."
Ruby's lips curved faintly.
"She always did like sleeping on you."
"She inherited that from her mother."
Ruby gave a tiny laugh, then winced.
Weiss immediately leaned forward.
"Easy. Don't push yourself."
Ruby nodded, her eyes drifting shut for a moment.
When she opened them again, she looked at Weiss with an expression so vulnerable that Weiss felt her heart ache.
"You stayed."
Weiss looked at her.
"Of course I stayed."
Ruby's gaze dropped.
"You didn't have to."
"I know."
"Weiss..."
Weiss reached for her hand.
"Ruby, please don't do this."
Ruby swallowed.
"Do what?"
"Try to convince me that I shouldn't care about you."
Ruby went silent.
Weiss stroked her knuckles with her thumb.
"I'm not here because I feel obligated. I'm not here because we're co-parents, or because I'm a doctor, or because Yang called me. I'm here because you're important to me."
Ruby's eyes filled.
"Even now?"
Weiss frowned gently.
"What do you mean?"
"Even after everything?"
Weiss stared at her.
Then she leaned forward, careful not to disturb Elise, and rested her forehead against Ruby's hand.
"Especially after everything."
Ruby made a small, broken sound.
"Weiss, I didn't want you to see me like this."
"I know."
"I didn't want you to think I couldn't take care of Elise."
Weiss lifted her head immediately.
"Ruby, look at me."
Ruby hesitated, then met her eyes.
"You are a wonderful mother."
Ruby's face crumpled.
"You are. You love her more than anything in the world, and she knows it. She knows that you read her stories, that you make her laugh, that you let her put stickers on your face even though you pretend to hate it."
Ruby let out a shaky laugh.
"I don't hate it."
"I know. You keep every single sticker she gives you."
Ruby's eyes filled further.
Weiss smiled faintly.
"You are a wonderful mother, Ruby. Being ill doesn't change that. Having a bad day doesn't change that. Needing help doesn't change that."
Ruby looked down at their joined hands.
"I was scared."
Weiss's expression softened.
"I know, sweetheart."
"I woke up this morning, and I felt so tired. I thought if I slept for a little while, I'd feel better. Elise was playing, and I thought I could just close my eyes for a few minutes."
Her voice trembled.
"I didn't know it would get that bad."
Weiss squeezed her hand.
"You don't have to explain."
"But I should have called you."
The words came out so quietly that Weiss almost missed them.
Ruby looked at her.
"I should have told you I wasn't feeling well."
Weiss's chest tightened.
"Yes," she said gently. "You should have."
Ruby flinched slightly.
Weiss immediately softened her voice.
"Not because you're obligated to tell me everything. Not because we're married—we aren't, and I know that. But because you're not supposed to manage a frightening episode alone. Because if you feel yourself getting worse, I want you to have someone who can help you. Yang, me, your doctor, anyone. You deserve that."
Ruby's tears spilled over.
"I didn't want to bother you."
Weiss stared at her.
Then she shook her head slowly.
"Oh, Ruby."
She brushed a tear from Ruby's cheek.
"You could never be a bother to me."
Ruby began to cry in earnest, silent tears slipping into her hair.
Weiss wanted to gather her close, but Ruby was still recovering, and Elise was asleep between them.
So Weiss did the next best thing.
She moved her chair closer, took Ruby's hand in both of hers, and held it against her cheek.
"I am not asking you to pretend you're fine," she whispered. "I am not asking you to be strong for me. And I'm certainly not asking you to take care of everyone else when you can barely take care of yourself."
Ruby laughed weakly through her tears.
"You're still bossy."
Weiss's mouth twitched.
"And you're still impossible."
Ruby's eyes softened.
"Missed that."
Weiss's heart stopped for a beat.
"What?"
Ruby looked away.
"Nothing."
"No, darling. You said you missed something."
Ruby's cheeks colored.
"Missed you being bossy."
Weiss looked at her for a long moment.
Then she smiled, a little sadly.
"I missed you being here to complain about it."
Ruby's fingers tightened around hers.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The monitor continued its steady rhythm. Somewhere outside, a nurse laughed softly at something a colleague had said. Elise sighed in her sleep and shifted closer to Weiss's chest.
Then Ruby whispered, "Do you hate me?"
Weiss stared at her.
The question was so unexpected, so heartbreakingly unlike the confident, stubborn woman she knew, that she could only shake her head.
"No."
Ruby swallowed.
"Even after the divorce?"
"Ruby, I could never hate you."
"Even though I—"
"No." Weiss's voice was gentle but firm. "We're not doing this tonight."
Ruby blinked.
"Weiss—"
"You are in a hospital bed. You're exhausted, you're recovering from an episode that frightened everyone who loves you, and you need to rest. We are not going to spend the next hour tearing ourselves apart over things we cannot change tonight."
Ruby stared at her.
Then, slowly, she smiled.
"Still bossy."
Weiss kissed her knuckles.
"Go to sleep, baby girl."
Ruby's smile faded into something tender.
"You called me that."
Weiss looked up.
"What?"
"Baby girl."
Weiss's cheeks warmed.
"I have called you that before."
"Not in a while."
"No," Weiss admitted quietly. "I suppose I haven't."
Ruby looked at her for a long moment.
Then she whispered, "I missed it."
Weiss's eyes burned.
She leaned forward and kissed Ruby's forehead, lingering for just a second.
"Sleep, darling."
Ruby closed her eyes.
Her hand remained wrapped around Weiss's fingers.
And this time, when she drifted off, she did not have to do it alone.
By morning, Ruby's condition had improved enough for her to speak comfortably, although she remained weak and needed continued observation. The treating team had identified dehydration and low blood glucose as significant problems, but they were still investigating the full cause of her reduced responsiveness. Her medication plan needed careful review, and the doctors wanted to make sure she could eat, drink, and remain alert before considering discharge.
Weiss was not going to let anyone rush that decision.
Not even Ruby.
Especially not Ruby.
"I'm fine," Ruby insisted weakly when the nurse explained that she would need to remain under observation.
Weiss, who was standing beside the bed with Elise perched on her hip, turned her head very slowly.
Ruby immediately looked at the ceiling.
"Okay, that was a bad choice of words."
"An exceptionally bad choice of words."
"I'm feeling better."
"That is a different sentence."
"I can go home soon."
"That depends on what your doctors say."
Ruby gave her a miserable look.
"You are enjoying this."
Weiss raised an eyebrow.
"Ruby, I spent yesterday thinking I might lose you. I am not enjoying anything."
Ruby's expression softened immediately.
"Oh."
Weiss sighed, her irritation dissolving as quickly as it had appeared.
She reached over and brushed Ruby's hair away from her forehead.
"I'm glad you're feeling better, honey. I really am. But we're going to make sure you're actually ready to go home before we start making plans."
Ruby nodded.
"Okay."
"And you're going to eat breakfast."
Ruby grimaced.
"Weiss."
"Breakfast."
"I'm not hungry."
"Then we'll find something you can manage."
"Can I have toast?"
"Yes."
"With butter?"
"Yes."
"Jam?"
Weiss narrowed her eyes.
"Are you negotiating with me while lying in a hospital bed?"
Ruby smiled sheepishly.
"Maybe."
Weiss shook her head, fighting a smile.
"Fine. Toast with butter and jam. But you're eating it."
Ruby's smile grew.
"You're still taking care of me."
Weiss went quiet.
Then she looked down at Elise, who was busy trying to place her stuffed rabbit on Ruby's pillow.
"I'm still going to care about you, Ruby. That didn't disappear when we signed the papers."
Ruby's eyes filled again, but this time she smiled through it.
"I know."
Elise looked up.
"Mommy Ruby eat toast?"
Ruby laughed softly.
"Apparently, yes."
"Good!"
Elise clapped her hands.
"Then Mommy Ruby get better!"
Weiss kissed her daughter's cheek.
"That's the plan, baby girl."
Ruby watched them, her expression filled with a quiet longing.
Weiss noticed.
Of course she noticed.
She always noticed.
"What's wrong?" she asked softly.
Ruby hesitated.
"Nothing."
Weiss gave her a look.
Ruby sighed.
"I just... I wish things were different."
Weiss's smile faded.
For a moment, the hospital room seemed to hold its breath.
Ruby looked down at the blanket.
"I wish Elise didn't have to go between two homes. I wish you didn't have to ask before touching my hair. I wish I could tell you when I'm having a bad day without worrying that I'm crossing a line. I wish..." She swallowed. "I wish I hadn't lost you."
Weiss's heart ached so fiercely that she had to look away.
She couldn't promise Ruby that everything would go back to the way it had been.
She couldn't erase the reasons they had divorced.
She couldn't pretend that love alone would fix the problems they had struggled with.
But she could be honest.
"I wish some things were different, too," she admitted.
Ruby looked up.
Weiss drew a slow breath.
"I wish we'd been kinder to each other. I wish I'd understood how frightened you were. I wish you'd let me help you before everything became so overwhelming. I wish we'd had the courage to ask for help when we needed it."
Ruby's eyes shimmered.
"But we can't change what happened," Weiss continued. "We can only decide what happens next."
Ruby nodded slowly.
"What happens next?"
Weiss glanced at Elise.
Their daughter was now trying to feed the stuffed rabbit an imaginary piece of toast.
Weiss smiled despite herself.
"Next, you recover. You let your doctors help you. We make sure you have the support you need at home, and we figure out a plan so that if something like yesterday happens again, nobody is left guessing what to do."
Ruby nodded.
"And after that?"
Weiss looked at her.
There were so many things she wanted to say.
That she still loved Ruby.
That she had never stopped.
That some part of her still remembered the exact shape of Ruby's hand in hers, the warmth of her body beneath the blankets, the way she whispered Weiss's name when she was half asleep.
That she had spent two years trying to convince herself that being apart was easier than loving someone she couldn't protect.
But Ruby was still recovering.
She was still vulnerable.
And Weiss would not use a frightening medical episode to push her into a conversation she might not be ready to have.
So she simply reached for Ruby's hand.
"After that," she said softly, "we take things one day at a time."
Ruby stared at their joined hands.
Then she turned her palm upward and intertwined their fingers.
"One day at a time," she whispered.
Elise looked up from her rabbit.
"Mommy Weiss?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Can we go home together?"
Weiss and Ruby both froze.
The little girl looked between them with bright silver eyes.
"Mommy Ruby, Mommy Weiss, Elise. Home."
For a moment, neither woman could speak.
Then Ruby began to cry again, and Weiss laughed softly through her own tears.
"Oh, little rose," Ruby whispered.
Elise scrambled onto the edge of the bed with Weiss's help, carefully settling beside Ruby.
"Home together," she repeated.
Ruby kissed the top of her daughter's head.
"Maybe one day, sweetheart."
Weiss looked at Ruby.
Ruby looked back.
And there, in the quiet hospital room, with their daughter between them and the difficult future waiting beyond the window, Weiss allowed herself to imagine it.
Not a perfect marriage.
Not a life without illness or fear.
Not a promise that they would never hurt each other again.
Just a home where Ruby didn't have to hide when she was struggling. A home where Weiss could care without trying to control everything. A home where their daughter could wake up in the morning and know that both her mothers were there, even if the shape of their family had changed along the way.
Weiss squeezed Ruby's hand.
"We'll figure it out, darling."
Ruby's eyes softened.
"Together?"
Weiss leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
"Together."
Elise immediately leaned toward Weiss.
"Mommy Weiss kiss Mommy Ruby!"
Ruby laughed, a real laugh this time, and Weiss couldn't resist smiling.
"Yes, yes, baby girl. Mommy Weiss kissed Mommy Ruby."
"Again!"
"Elise!"
"Again!"
Ruby laughed harder, then pressed a hand to her stomach as she caught her breath.
Weiss immediately reached toward her.
"Easy, honey."
"I'm fine," Ruby said automatically.
Weiss raised an eyebrow.
Ruby paused.
Then she sighed.
"I'm feeling better."
"Much better."
"And I would like another kiss."
Weiss's expression softened into something warm and unbearably familiar.
"Well, when you put it like that..."
She leaned down and kissed Ruby gently.
Elise squealed with delight.
And Ruby, still weak, still recovering, still carrying the scars of everything they had been through, smiled against Weiss's lips.
For the first time in a long while, the future didn't feel quite so frightening.
Because Weiss was there.
Because Elise was safe.
And because, even after everything, the love between Weiss Schnee and Ruby Rose had never truly disappeared.
It had simply been waiting for them to find their way back to it.