The glass doors to Room 3 slid open with a soft hiss. Inside, the room was dim, peaceful. Alex lay in the same bed, a clean sheet pulled over his chest, oxygen assisting his breathing, monitors attached to every limb. But there was color in his face now. And he was still breathing.
Sitting beside him was Dr. Sophie Everhart, her auburn hair tied in a loose knot. Her stethoscope hung around her neck, and an open chart was balanced on one knee.
She looked up as the door closed softly behind Charlotte. Her expression was tired but steady. “Tell me,” Sophie said.
Charlotte exhaled and stepped into the room. “We found them. We shut it down.”
Sophie didn’t ask for details, just nodded once and looked at Alex. “He seized once around 2:40, mild. Fever is still present. James was on call, and we adjusted the anti-seizure meds. He’s been holding steady since. No new spikes.”
Charlotte crossed to the other side of the bed, her hands brushing over the railing as she looked down at him. “Thank you for staying.” She pulled Sophie into a hug.
The next day
James walked into Alex’s room and gave Charlotte a look—equal parts pity and respect. “His temp is down to 101.4. This is likely from the meningitis. He’s breathing on his own. Charlotte, you need to get some rest.”
Paul sat beside the bed, covering Alex for his twelve-hour shift. “I keep telling her that.” He looked at James. “He’s producing normal amounts of urine. Kidney function is almost normal.”
Charlotte’s grip on Alex’s hand tightened.
James moved to clean his hands. “I have to finish rounds, and then I’ll take over for you, Paul.”
A quiet moment passed. Then Alex stirred. Charlotte shot forward in her seat. His eyes didn’t open, but his fingers curled faintly around hers.
She leaned in, heart thudding. “Alex. I’m here. You’re safe.”
His lips moved. No sound. Then, hoarse, almost inaudible: “…cold…”
She choked on a sob as she grabbed the blanket she was using and covered him. “You’re not there anymore. It’s Charlotte. I’m here with you.”
A pause. Then he whispered, broken but certain, “You… found me…”
She leaned her forehead against his temple, tears spilling over again. “Always,” she whispered. “Always.”
Behind her, James quietly slipped from the room. Paul followed, closing the door behind them. They gave her a moment because they knew this wasn’t the end of the war. Not even close. But in this small, quiet corner of it, love had won a battle.
And Alex Marcel made it out alive. Again.
Charlotte didn’t leave Alex’s side. She couldn’t.
Even with the machines humming, even with nurses slipping in and out to check his vitals, even with Tristan, Paul, and James in and out of the room, she stayed anchored to that chair, her fingers lightly laced with his, eyes fixed on his face like watching him sleep would keep him here. Because, for a terrifying stretch of hours, she didn’t know if he’d ever come back. And now that he was fighting his way to the surface, she wasn’t letting go.
Alex stirred again. Just slightly. A twitch of his fingers. A flicker beneath his eyelids.
Charlotte leaned in. “It’s okay. You don’t have to speak. I just need you to hear me. I love you.”
He didn’t open his eyes, but his jaw tensed like he was listening.
“Alex Marcel, you’re safe,” she whispered. “You’re with people who love you. They tried to tear everything away from you—your memories, your will, your name—but they didn’t win. They don’t get to win.”
His hand moved weakly in hers. Not much, not even a squeeze. Just enough to say he heard her.
Charlotte breathed through a sob that tightened her throat. “You’re not alone in this. You’ve got all of us. My girls, their guys, Graham and James—they’re the reason you’re still breathing. They fought for you with me. And Elias…” She paused, searching his face. “Elias got you out. He brought you back to me.”
His brow furrowed at that, like the name struck a buried chord.
“I’ll tell you everything. But later,” she said, softly stroking his hair. “Right now, just rest. Heal. I’ll be here when you’re ready.” Charlotte laid her head gently on the edge of Alex’s mattress, eyes closed, still holding his hand.
She wasn’t resting. She was waiting. And just outside that glass, her team—her family—was there for support.
