Ch. 40: The End
Song For This Chapter: Cavalier by James Vincent McMorrow

      The four walls of Fred and George's room surrounded me. There were stains from explosions on the back wall, a couple holes behind their bed frames that they had tried to hide from Molly, but I was sure she had seen them long ago. Being in this room that held so many unknown stories for me didn't sit right. It felt wrong, like Fred's absence was more and more glaringly obvious the longer I sat on his old bed. The stain grew bigger and bigger, like a void was swallowing the room up.

     I shouldn't be here. I needed to be at St Mungo's. It had been a week, and even though I'd moved locations, I had barely stepped foot outside of the Burrow, outside of this very room. Molly would bring me food and chat with me, knitting as she did. It helped a bit, but the sinking feeling of being out of place was growing monumental in my weak and weary bones.

      Checking the wrist watch that clung to my forearm, I decided that despite the fact that it was only four in the morning, I needed to leave.

Get out.

    It wasn't long before I was standing in front of the receptionist's desk of St Mungo's, my jacket over my night shirt and a pair of sweats thrown on in my rush of getting back to Fred. I'd been away for too long, and anything could have happened in my absence. Fred could have gotten worse.

     However, the chick at the front desk began to turn me away, adjusting the thick, plastic frames on the bridge of her nose. There was a ding as the elevator behind the front desk pulled open, letting a small trickle of Healers out onto the floor.

       I argued with her, crossing my arms over my chest as my eyes glided towards the elevator doors, calculating how long it would take me to run to them and fight her off as I went upstairs to Fred's floor. "You don't understand. My husband needs me."

       "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but --"

      "--that's enough, Beatrice!" Blake cut the receptionist off, stepping out from the elevator doors and grabbing a chart from the counter as she eyed my tired frame. For a moment, I was worried Blake was annoyed at me, ignoring her wishes and returning to the hospital before she thought I was better. However, Blake merely frowned and walked to my side, taking my arm into hers and pushing me along and into the elevator.

      "Blake--"

     "--Elle, what are you doing here?" Blake pressed the floor button quickly, her finger jamming the button down a few times, unnecessarily. Something was off. "I just sent the owl." The floor rose, shooting us up the skeleton of the building.

     "The owl?"

     "Fred,... he's declining," Blake whispered as the doors rolled open with a ding. "I am so sorry."

       Without another word from me, I rushed past Blake, running down the hallway to Fred's room. I burst through the door to find a couple Healers taking notes while another one finished injecting a bright purple potion into his veins.

      "What's going on? What's happening?!"

       One of the Healers glanced up from his clip board and shook his head. "It's his brain, we have to relieve the pressure. Please, remain calm. We've got him stabilized now. But, he's going to need constant monitoring."

        "What the hell? Aren't you constantly monitoring him now?"

        "Please, calm down, Mrs Weasley."

         "Calm down, calm down?!" I pointed a finger at the little man, trying not to let my anger be distracted by the oddity of being called Mrs Weasley. "I'll tell you where to shove your calm, you fuc--"

      "Elle." Blake grabbed my arm and pulled me from the room. "Let's get you a cup of coffee, all right?" The man's wide eyes disappeared behind the door as she led me away, whispering apologies to the Healers as she did.

      ✧

     Chewing on the callouses of my thumb, I was hiding out in his room as a monitor beeped lowly in the background.  The Healers had decided to bring in a machine to help regulate Fred's vitals, just in case. It was weird seeing machines in the Wizarding World, but even still, it wasn't the same as what I would have seen in a typical, Muggle hospital.

     I tried not to think about how Fred was most likely slipping away right in front of my eyes. And so I just sat there, staring at him. I blinked, feeling my eyes sting as I did, knowing I haven't blinked in a while.

       The Healers had managed to fix him up, whatever that meant, a few hours ago. The Weasleys would show up any time now, as Blake had sent them an owl, warning the family of Fred's decline. It wasn't something I wanted to admit to myself, I couldn't admit that he was getting worse, not better.

      "Okay, Prince Charming. You've had your fun scaring the shit out of me." I whispered, a soft smile on my face as I sat in the chair beside his bed, watching his unmoving frame. "You can wake up any day now. I mean, come on. You've had more than enough time, don't you think?"

     There was only the low beeping in the room as his silence became more and more grating.

      "You can't leave me." Scooting my chair against the floor, a high pitched screeching echoing through the room, I sat as close to his ear as I could, trying to force him to hear my words. "You hear me?"

      I brushed some fallen strands of his hair from his closed eyes, then grabbed a towel from beside his bed and started to clean the oil from his face, trying to rub away the look of death from his features.

       My heart was heavy. It was like a weight had sunk into my throbbing chest, a hollow ache that just reverberated throughout my deafening chest.

       The silence only made me want to tell him more, talk to him. Though I wasn't sure he could hear me. I just... needed to speak with him, at him. I chewed on my lip as I thought about everything I wanted to say, everything I wanted in life. Everything that I had never considered before all of this shit went down.

        "There's so much we still have yet to do, Fred," I told him with a half-smile, trying to keep myself from crying. "I want to do stupid stuff with you. Stuff that never mattered. None of it was important, ... until now."

      I sniffled as my nose began to water, considering all the pointless things that had been tossing around inside my brain for the past month. "Things like, well, I don't know. I want to lay in the grass and watch fucking clouds with you. I want to make origami swans." I shifted in my chair and slide my hand into his solid fist. "I want to have a million snowball fights with you. I want to kiss you first, every morning, even before I have a cup of coffee —before I even brush my teeth because, even though I know it's nasty, you love me and I love you too much to really care. I want to ignore you when I'm angry and I want to run to you when I feel like shit."

      "I want to do so many stupid fucking things, Fred. I, I never really thought about these little things. The big things were always so important. But, you need to get better, you need to wake up so that we can do whatever the hell I want to do, and then maybe do a few things you want to do too." I chuckled dryly, rubbing at my nose with the back of my free hand. 

     "I want to carve pumpkins with you, I want to have water ballon fights, and pillow fights, and I want to force you into letting me put makeup on you and, and a kid. I want to have a kid with you, Fred. Even though they are slimy and clingy and just —and—" I couldn't go on as tears began to choke out my words, forcing my confessions to come to a screeching halt. I was crying too hard to finish.

      I sat there with the last bits of my confession hanging over our heads, just staying there and falling upon unconscious ears.

     It wasn't too much longer before George and Blake came into the room, George physically sick with worry for his twin as Blake tried to assure him that Fred was showing better signs.

      Neither of us was really convinced.

      The rest of the Weasleys came and went over the course of the day, some bringing flowers, a couple bringing toys to set by his bedside. It was all a bit heavy, like the final goodbye of a loved one, and I was starting to find myself losing hope, the tiny fragments of hope that I had been clutching tightly to my chest.

       I decided to go for a walk through the hospital, to stretch my legs and get my mind off of the growing shrine in Fred's room as his family began to leave as the night started to fall. It was only George and me now, but I couldn't remain in the room alone with him, not when he looked so much like Fred.

       I was starting to worry that Fred would never wake.

       As I walked, I peeked in on people through the windows of the hospital doors, seeing all sorts of glimpses into people's lives. St Mungo's catered to people from all walks of life, and it was a bit reassuring to know that not everyone was here to suffer.

        I saw a few people's lives as I walked past. There were smiling couples holding babies, crying women, a man reading a story in his sick bed as a young girl listened in the chair beside him. All sorts of people, all meeting under one roof for help.

      A soft smile crept on my lips as I peered into a room with a mom holding a newborn in her arms, a glowing smile of amazement on her face.

      Turning around to make my way back, a Healer rushed past me. I hardly thought anything of it, but I decided to follow her. But, then another rushed past, both heading in the same direction. That drew my attention more. Not wanting to run, I rounded the corner to follow them, far behind.

      My obnoxious curiosity was growing larger and larger, that is, until the hall became all too familiar. It was Fred's hall they were rushing through, talking fast to each other as they did, their cloaks flapping out behind them as they moved quickly.

        Fear was an icy shot of adrenaline. My heart tripled in speed and I began to run, to sprint behind the Healers and to the room. I could hear the monitor from the distance, just one long, drawn out flat tone.

       The tone of no pulse.

       "Fred!" I yelled out, wanting to burst into the room and grab his hand, but the Healers were in the doorway, blocking me. "FRED?!"

      Jumping and swaying, trying to force my way into the room, I shouted for them to move, my heart in my ears. The night had fallen, and my sight was darkening, the horrible thoughts I had been trying to suppress began overwhelming me all at once.

      "Bloody hell, could you let her in already?" Blake yelled from inside the room. The Healers in the doorway apologised to me, bowing their heads and scattering to the edges of the hallway, letting me inside.

        Once I entered, it was as if I was in an entirely different room. Flowers and toys littered the nightstands beside Fred's bed, but the oxygen was snuffed out. I couldn't even force myself to look at him, so I focused instead on the pair standing at the foot of his bed.

       Inside the room, George Weasley and Blake are solemn faced and hovering over Fred's bed. "I-Is he?" I whispered, unable to look, my throat swelling with the sandpaper sensation of despair.

"Am I what?"

      The sound, one I had begun to think I would never hear again, didn't feel real in my ears as it echoed through the hospital room. My head snapped to Fred's contorted face as he sat up against a mountain of pillows, his heart monitor detached from his pale, skeleton hand, causing it to flatline. 

       I choked and gasped through my onslaught of tears, rushing to him and flinging my arms around his neck, showering his face with messy kisses. I tried to speak as I kissed his face, but I couldn't find the words as I pulled away.

        Embarrassed, tears leaked down my cheeks unprovoked.

       Blake and George remained quiet as they watched our reunion, but I didn't mind it. Fred cocked his head to the side and grinned at me, sizing up my dishevelled and more than likely terribly miskept appearance. "Woah, you must have missed me."

      "Of course I fucking did," I coughed out roughly, sniffling, "I can't believe you're awake." I couldn't sit, so I stood beside his bed, feeling everything at once.

      "Me either," Fred nodded. He turned to look at his brother with a withering glance before nodding at me once more, a little confused. "So, who's she?"

      "Oh, come on," I sniffled, rubbing the back of my hand under my eyes, trying to laugh at the dumb joke he was trying to make. "Don't mess with me."

         Fred's eyes shifted down to his hands as he played with the sheet over his lower half, trying not to meet my eyes. "I'm sorry, love, I honestly don't...," Fred sighed, sucking in a deep breath, "I don't know you."

        A shot tore through my chest, ripping open my heart.

       "Fred," I said, bending down as if to take his hand, but recoiling myself, not sure how to react.

       My mind tried to pick up the slack, the information sending every thought in my body haywire. I was just trying to play catch up. Blinking roughly, the tears turned to sorrow instead of happiness. 

      Then, out of the blue, Blake hit Fred's shoulder with her clipboard. "I told you, you twat, that wasn't funny the first time you tried that!"

       "Ow, ow," Fred cursed her, rubbing his shoulder with a pout, "I was only joking!"

       "You fucking prick," I hissed, not finding it very funny. "You were lying?"

        George snickered and shoved his brother's shoulder as I stood there, seething. "I told you she wouldn't think it was funny, Fred."

       Fred chuckled, but stopped mid-laugh as he saw the contorted expression of disdain on my face. "Oi, Letter, come on, it was a joke."

        "Fuck you!" I shouted, flipping him the bird, as if saying it wasn't enough.I stormed out, balling my hands into fists, trying to make my brain comprehend everything that had just happened. Five seconds of being awake and Fred was already pissing me off.

      How dare he pull that shit?! Who does he think he is?!

       "Wait, L, come on, I'm sorry!" Fred called out. There was a thump and a clatter as I paced outside the room, unable to bring myself to really leave. I realised I had forgotten my coat on the back of one of the chairs, so I went back into the room to grab it, seeing Fred stumbling against the wall as Blake and George tried to help him, but Fred pushed their hands away, swinging out his one leg out in front of him, to hop behind me.

        My eyes zeroed in on his missing leg, sending a ripple of worry through my body. Dropping my coat on the floor, I traded it for Fred's shoulder, hoisting his frame up against my own to give him support as he smiled, sorrowfully, down at me, his face only a few inches from my own. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you--"

        I shook my head.

         "-- No, just leave it at 'didn't think', alright?" I sighed, but tightened my grip around him, hobbling the both of us back in his bed, which was only a few feet away, but was still difficult with only three feet between the pair of us. "You've scared me enough."

      Once he was tucked back into his bed, and once he had apologised a few more times to me for the inconsiderate joke, Fred brushed down his hair and flashed the three of us a cheeky grin.

      "How do I look?" Fred asked.

       George spoke up right away, having been thinking over this for a little while, I assumed. "Well, mate. You look about a foot shorter."

       Fred grinned, my favourite grin, his eyes crinkling in the corners, and I knew. This dumbass was alive, was well, and was mine forever.

Fred reached out a hand and grasped my palm, his eyes staring into mine. "Forever, Elizabeth Weasley."

T H E   E N D

( there will be an epilogue )