No Boundaries, No Lengths - Fan Fiction Eminem

The Woods

Salome POV

The next two days were a bit of a whirlwind. Once Marshall had decided that he was coming with me, we had to move around travel stuff and rearrange hotel information. Those things were relatively easy to manage. It was changing his schedule without announcing to everyone at the studio what was going on that took effort.

In the end, we told Paul, too. He'd be able to handle whatever needed to take place at the studio while Marshall and I were out of pocket. I had tried to promise him that I'd send Marshall back the day after the surgery but he'd just given me a look and shook his head. As I looked at Marshall from the pre-operation bed the hospital had put me in, I noted that Paul was no doubt right. Marshall wouldn't be leaving until I did.

Marshall had been stoic throughout the explanations and discussions. He'd kept a hold of my hand, a tight clamp that squeezed on occasion. He'd asked questions and listened as if he were memorizing every word. Though he maintained a bland expression, I saw the fear and haunting in his eyes.

I knew without a shred of doubt that he was going to be torturing himself when they took me back for the surgery. I could see it, plain as the sunlight on a new day. Every decision he'd made, every fight we'd had, the way we'd split up - all of it was going to play a role in the torment of his mind as he waited for me to come back to him.

It was in the stark reality of the nearly overpowering smell of cleaner and the sterile atmosphere of my hospital room that I finally let go of my own fear. Marshall had been wrong about us and he'd made a mistake, but I knew he wouldn't make it again. I was as sure about it as I was about the keys of a piano. And, as I looked at him, I knew that I had to tell him it before I was taken out of the room.

"I forgive you," I said softly. Marshall's eyes flew to mine from where he sat at my side. "I believe you," I continued. "When you say that you won't hurt me again, I believe you."

Marshall stood abruptly and paced away from me, his whole body radiating barely contained energy. He ran his hand over his head as he moved. When he turned back to face me, I saw that he was angry. He pointed at me, only just keeping his voice from shouting.

"Don't you fucking dare, Salome Rose. Don't you fucking dare forgive me like this." Marshall demanded.

"I don't motherfucking deserve it. You're going to forgive me fifty years from now, when neither one of us can see our great grandkids that well. You forgive me then, you fucking hear me?  Not like this. You're not saying goodbye to me." Marshall's voice cracked on the end and my heart squeezed. He was so afraid. I raised my arms, holding them out to him and he threw himself at me, burying his head into my neck as I held him.

"You're right, Em." I said into his ear. "I'm not saying goodbye. But," I continued. "I will forgive you, trust you, every minute of every day for the rest of my life. I love you."

I felt Marshall's tears on my neck. He held me close, unmoving except for the pulse of his arms around me as he heard my words. I ran my hands up and down his back, trying to soothe him as I whispered into his ear.

"I'm not sure the timing works on great grandkids. Not unless our kid or grandkid fucks up." I teased and he pulled back, chuckling as he looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. He nodded with a slight smile.

"Yeah, he or she would have to have forgotten some necessary equipment early on for that." Marshall agreed. I smiled as I raised a hand to his cheek, cupping it in my palm.

"Are you going to be okay out here?" I asked. Marshall smiled and kissed my hand before leaning forward and kissing my lips.

"It depends," he responded when he pulled back. I cocked my head in question, seeing the fear still in his eyes, but also the breaking of humor.

"What size did you tell them to put in?" He asked and I cracked up, nodding as I did.

"Well, I'm glad to see you two like this." The nurse said as she walked in. Marshall turned from his spot over me and nodded to her and then turned back to me, pressing a hard kiss to my mouth.

"You do this right, Sal. No fucking up. You come back out totally clear, no complications." He demanded and I nodded, kissing him softly in return.

"I'll see you soon."

---

The lights of the room were blinding and fuzzy as I struggled to open my eyes and keep them that way. I could hear whirring from a machine nearby, but my brain was fogged, like a blanket had been tossed over my thoughts. They were there, underneath the lingering anesthesia, but none were coming out.

As I moved my head to look around, I saw Marshall sitting in the chair at my bedside. He had one hand on mine while his other hand held his phone. From his expression, I'd guess that he were messing around on the internet. He had a tendency to click link after link, starting with something reasonable and then ending up watching creepy videos of random, monotone speakers making iced tea.

"Hey," I said softly. Marshall looked up, tossing his phone to the side and leaning close to me to capture my lips.

"Hey," he said in response when he pulled back. His eyes were still a little red, but he seemed calmer, happier.

"Did I do alright?" I asked. Marshall nodded, smiling softly.

"Yeah, baby. You did great. The doctor was going to come back and check on you once you woke up. I'm going to let them know you're up." He said, kissing me again before he stood and walked out the door.

He came back with a nurse, who checked my vitals and talked in a very bubbly, happy tone. Now that I was back among the land of the conscious, it was time to start with the recovery. Apparently, it was important not to stay stationary for too long. Once I was no longer under the effects of the anesthetic they'd used, I needed to get up and moving.

After the nurse came in, the doctor did. As the nurse had, he explained to me what the next few days needed to look like. Because the surgery itself had gone well, he was optimistic that they'd got all of the cancer. As time moved on, I'd have to have some additional check ups to ensure that nothing had spread, but my outlook right now was positive.

I watched as Marshall soaked in word after word of good news. I could see the tension leave him as he realized that, although sudden, this surgery had probably done everything that it needed to. Although the doctors couldn't guarantee that I was one hundred percent out of the woods, they were happy with how things had gone.

When the doctor left the room, Marshall turned to me. He pulled a small, dark grey box out of his pocket and put it on my lap. He looked up into my eyes, his serious and calm, as he spoke.

"Marry me?"