When Stars Align || G. Lafayette

Chapter 15

I took a deep breath, smiling lightly at the memory as I squeezed his hand, before I glanced over him and swallowed hard at his unresponsive body. "You 'ave got to 'old on. I cannot lose you. Please, Lafayette, just 'old on."

It was then that I felt his hand, previously limp around mine, squeezing back, holding onto me like a lifeline. My eyes widened, and I looked up to his solemn face. He didn't look like he could've been conscious; the only part of his body that so much as twitched was his hand. But then the words came, hardly a breath on his lips.

"I will 'old on, mon amour."

I inhaled sharply, the corners of my eyed stinging with the hot tears that threatened to roll down my face. "Thank you."

"Je'taime."

I froze. His eyes were still closed; the best guess he had at who I was was my accent. He didn't know I was me. Or really, that I wasn't. So, sighing lightly, I murmured back, "Je'taime, Lafayette."

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

I woke up next to him the next morning, his hand still intertwined with mine. I sat up slowly, letting out a light groan as I gathered my hair at the back of my head, tying it into my usual ponytail.

As I opened the tent, I blinked hard, trying to adjust to the light of day, before stepping out with the memories of the previous night flooding back to me, and I found myself replaying his words in my head.

Je'taime.

He loved me.

He loved me, and he was dying, and there was nothing I could do about it.

It was just then that a horde of people rushed past me, right to where I'd just left. I watched them intently rush in, people shouting at each other, and my eyes widened as they picked up tools I didn't recognize, passing them around. Slowly, I followed after them, curiosity and concern getting the better of me. When I reached the tent, I lightly tapped someone on the shoulder, and he turned to me with raised eyebrows as I cleared my throat.

"Who's in charge here?" I asked, my voice shakier than I would've hoped. The man drew himself up to his full height, offering me his hand to shake.

"That would be me. Adam Deross." I did shake his hand, if only for the politeness of the act. "And who are you?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Major-General Levi King."

His eyes widened slightly, and he stood a little straighter as he pulled back from the handshake. "Oh, I'm so sorry, sir."

"No, no, don't be." I waved off the apology with a noncommittal smile, before turning to the tent beside us. "But if you would be so kind as to tell me of exactly what's happening here?"

"Of course." He cleared his throat, his gaze downcast. "Well, I'm sure by now you know the situation here. He was shot in the shoulder." I nodded, and he continued, "Well, we're doing everything we can for this man at the moment, but we don't want to put him through all the suffering that could be involved with amputation--"

"Amputation?!" I interrupted, eyes wide, and he looked surprised at the outburst.

"Well, yes, I mean--"

"No, no no no, you don't understand. There needs to be another way," I urged him, and he furrowed his brow.

"The other way is letting him go, which I'm sure no one wants."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "There's no third option? None at all?"

He pursed his lips, looking uneasy as he shifted on his feet. "Well..." he trailed off, and my eyes widened.