When Jess was settled, Wanda huddled close and turned her face to bury against Jess's hair, taking comfort in the familiar sweet scent of crisp apples. This was nice, it was good. Things could still be nice and good, even after what they'd endured and even in the face of whatever terrible things the future still held. She pulled the blanket up over them and closed her eyes, focusing on the insistent pull of her sedatives, the morphine. Wanda could pretend for the moment that they were far away from here. Curled up together their couch in New York for an impromptu afternoon nap, an empty bottle of wine on the coffee table and Netflix on the t.v. screen, demanding to know if they were still watching. That was the best thing she could imagine, and she let those memories lull her to sleep, whispering a last apology and declaration of affection (or maybe only thinking it) in Jess's ear before she drifted off.