Trigger warning: mentions of various medical instruments.

Virgil's P.O.V.
I got to Roman's room on the twenty-first and began my usual routine. Sitting down my stuff, moving my chair next to Roman's bed, taking his hand and holding it, despite the painful knowledge that he would not hold mine back.

I may have spent weeks waiting for Roman to wake up, and I'm not going to say that wasn't part of my every waking thought and action, but I wasn't exactly spending entire days doing nothing but waiting for him. I read, I wrote poetry, I listened to music, I talked to other visitors, I just did so while I waited. On that particular day, I was occupying myself with one of my favorite books, The Fault In Our Stars by John Green. I have read it many times before, and I'm always hooked from the first page, and this time was no exception.

I opened up to the page I had left off at (a few chapters before the end of the book) and started reading. As I read, I became absorbed in the story, and slowly I was in the book, not the hospital room. The beeping of the heart monitor and various other machines faded away and the only sound left was the heart-wrenching words of John Green as told through his narrative character.

But suddenly I was ripped from the book and back into the hospital room. It took me a moment to comprehend that the thing to pull me away was something moving across my hand. I looked at my hand, the only thing in it being Roman's. Surely that wasn't him, I thought, surely he didn't just move his hand.

But his finger twitched.

First his index finger, then the other four, until his fingers tightened around my hand. I stared in silent shock, the book falling from my hand, my focus now far from it.

Roman's eyes weren't open, nor did he show any other sign of being awake other than his fingers tightening around my hand. I stood up slowly and leaned over him.

"Roman," I whispered, hopeful tears welling in my eyes. "Roman, wake up. It's me, Virgil, I'm here. Wake up, Roman, wake up."

Roman's P.O.V.
I awoke, but did not open my eyes; my eyelids seemed to weigh ten times more than usual. My whole body felt stiff and sore. As I started gaining a bit more consciousness, I noticed something warm and soft touching my hand—it felt like someone else's hand. With a little difficulty, I moved my fingers, slowly, one at a time, until they closed around the hand in mine.

I heard something hit what I assumed was the floor, then what sounded like a chair being pushed. Then, a sound so different from the rest, so smooth and clear and beautiful, came from above me.

"Roman," the sweet voice said. "Roman, wake up. It's me, Virgil, I'm here. Wake up, Roman, wake up."

Somehow, my eyelids didn't feel as heavy anymore. Very slowly, I opened my eyes, and a blinding light flooded my eyes.

"Roman," Virgil said again.

I smiled with great difficulty at the sight of him, and the sound of his voice, at the feeling of my hand in his.

In a raspy, unpleasant voice, I said, "Virgil."

He burst into tears and a giant smile spread across on his face. Painfully, I lifted my arm and reached up to place my hand on Virgil's cheek and wipe away a few tears.

"I missed you so much," he said. "I didn't know if I would ever see you again."

"Don't worry, Virgil," I said. "I'm here now, I'm staying." I paused as a question came to mind, then I asked, "where are we?"

"Hospital," Virgil answered.

Realization washed over me as he said that. I was suddenly aware of the many mechanical sounds around me, the tubes and wires attached to me, the bed I was in.

"How long?" I asked.

Virgil hesitated, seemingly having to think about how long I had been there—the fact that he had to go back and count it scared me. Finally, he answered, "twenty days. You were brought in at noon on April first, now it's the morning of April twenty-first."

My heart skipped a beat or two or three. Twenty-first, I thought, how could it be the twenty-first? How could it be April? Last time I checked it was a few hours past midnight on February fifteenth. But that thought triggered memory after memory, and everything came back to me—including the fight.

"I'm so sorry," I said.

"For what?" Virgil questioned.

"For starting that fight with you. I never should have assumed such terrible things. I never should have yelled at you, or told you to leave. I'm sorry, Virgil, I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, Roman, I forgive you, and I'm sorry too."

"No need for apologizing, darling, the fault is all mine."

Virgil stared at me with wide eyes as his grip on my hand loosened.

"What's wrong?" I asked worriedly.

Virgil smiled, more tears running down his cheeks, and answered, "you missed a lot, dear. I would explain it all to you, but I missed a lot too, and you don't need all that shock right now. Eventually, I'll get everyone to explain it to you, but for now, don't worry about it. I do have something to show you, though..."

Virgil let go of my hand and walked away. I turned my head a little to see where he was going, but it was only across the room to a tiny table. He picked up a small, brown box from on top of the table, opening it, and handed it to me. Inside, there were three items: a brooch designed to look like a black rose, a crushed, wilted rose, and a necklace with a yang charm.

"Milly's Valentines present to me," Virgil said, pointing to the brooch. He pointed to the rose and said, "your Valentines present to me. I went back to the turret a few weeks ago to see if it was still there, and it was. The lasting charm was still on it, so it wasn't completely destroyed." Lastly, he pointed to the necklace. "My present to you. You still had it on when you were brought in, and the doctors took it off and gave it to me."

"You..." I tried to say something, but I didn't know what. I mean, there isn't exactly a handbook for this sort of thing.

"I need to ask you something," Virgil said after we were silent for a minute.

"Anything," I replied.

"At the wed— no, just... some time ago, you woke up for just a few seconds, and you said something to me. The thing is, you said it in a different language, so I don't know what you meant."

I was silent for a moment as I tried to remember what he was talking about. Vaguely, I could remember staring up at a bright ceiling, then something dark covering part of my view, something that looked a lot like Virgil. I remembered saying something, but I wasn't sure what.

"What did it sound like?" I asked.

"Low," he tried to say. "Sint.. low sinta...?"

He gave a few more attempts before I finally guessed, "lo siento?"

"Yes!" Virgil exclaimed. "What does it mean?"

"It's Spanish," I answered. "It means 'I'm sorry.'" Virgil gave no reply, so I continued, "darling, I am sorry. I mean this with every part of my heart, every fragment of my being, I am sorry. Not just for the fight on Valentines Day, but every fight before that, every word I ever said against you. I am sorry."

Still, no verbal response, but Virgil now had tears pouring from his eyes, a painful yet joyful smile on his face. "I'm sorry too," he stammered through tears. "I never should have left you that night, and I never should have left you at all. I'm sorry for every time I walked out or pushed you away."

With that, the next minute was spent with both of us crying while we tried to continually wipe the tears from each other's eyes, which failed humorously. Just as our tears were starting to stop, there was a knock at the door, and a nurse walked in. The nurse stood still for a second, staring with a hint of surprise in his eyes, then leaned out the door and yelled, "Roman Sanders is awake!" The sound of footsteps flooded the hallway, telling us that more nurses were on the way.

"I'll go now so they can do their work," Virgil said, leaning down to kiss me on the cheek. "I love you, dear."

"I love you, darling."

Virgil's P.O.V.
I left Roman's room just as three or four other people came running in. As the hallway cleared, I saw Tori standing outside Lori's room.

"Is he really awake?" she asked, her tone a mix of both hope and sadness.

"He really is," I answered, happily reveling in just being able to say that Roman was awake.

"Does anyone else know yet?"

It took a second to process what that question meant: within the Mind, dozens of people were awaiting news that Roman was awake—Patton, and Anthony, and Thomas, and a whole freaking kingdom.

"No," I answered finally. "But they're about to."

I took out my phone and pulled up the Lituation Room (alright, fine, I admit it's a funny name). The text I sent was only one word, though no others were needed: "awake."

A.N.
Hey, I'm sorry I'm updating later than usual, but I forgot to write the author's note last night and I forgot to publish this morning. I hope you guys are glad to know what the one word is! Anyway, that's it for now, I'll see you in Monday's chapter—which, by the way, is the last chapter, and will be accompanied by an important author's note. Adiós, guys, gals, and non-binary pals.