I sat quietly at Fitz’s bed side. Anytime the nurses would let me in, I sat there. Even if he was asleep, even if they had taken him away for CT scans or MRIs or whatever. My favorite times though, were when he was there, awake, talking to me, trying to know me again.
I knew he didn’t remember anything about me. I knew that the doctors had pretty much given up hope that he would ever get those memories back, no matter what they told us to our face. But he liked to hear me tell my stories, and he still looked at me in that beautiful way. And when he smiled at me—oh god—it was amazing.
I still loved him—so much—memories or no. And I hoped that he would fall in love with me all over again.
Timothy Razer had done a lot of terrible things to a lot of people. He had stolen our wonderful past away from Fitz, probably forever. But I wasn’t going to let him take away our future too. No, he didn’t get that.