Visitors came and went but in the end, in the darkest hours of the night, it was often just the three of them. Scarlett. Stephie. Thomas. All with separate little worlds of fear in their head, and the knowledge of the shared one between them.
Scarlett was still hooked up to an IV, the doctors worried that she wasn't getting enough food, which was fair enough as she was having difficulty eating without remembering her snout buried in Thomas' stomach. A werewolf refusing to eat was a medical worry. Scarlett was happy to accept the needle in the back of her hand.
Her bed had been moved at their request, pushed up against Stephie's to make a wide thing that both girls could sleep on, and even Thomas could fit on to sleep if they all moved over a little, something Scarlett was more than happy to do. Waking up and not being able to see Stephie and Thomas almost sent her spinning into a panic attack.
The warmth and light of the hospital felt so safe and knowing that the Templar couldn't find them here was the only thing that let Scarlett sleep, curled in the makeshift queen-size bed and trying not to touch Stephie in case she hurt her. She didn't want to touch either of them, but she wanted to cling and never let go. Her head was so messy with them.
But as she lay there she could hear Stephie's breath, the other girl so close. She couldn't hear Thomas breathing - being dead and all - and every now and then she opened her eyes and raised her head, just to make sure he was still there as well. It was okay. They were all there, all safe.