09-07-2016, 09:14 AM
The terms of her contract ensured her protection, but she doubted that extended to watching over her bedside. The look she gave Jay was all curiousness and soft puzzlement; she'd barely taken a blink from his face these last few moments, except to notice his hand pressed over hers. The cupped warmth travelled tingles up the length of her arm, nestling heat in her chest. She moved, curling her hand around beneath his, fingertips brushing against his palm as they retreated, but only to recapture him before she slipped away entirely. She didn't hold his hand, just lazily entwined her fingers with the tips of his, but it was a purposefully reciprocal gesture.
Natalie was not shy. The intimacy did not embarrass her, nor the display of her own affection. "I dreamt of you, I think."
A smirk toyed the edges of her lips, blooming playful in her pale gaze. The tease sought a lost connection. Offered with stark honesty something she did not understand, but decided on instinct to share. It seemed an acceptable risk. She had hit her head.
"I remember the fire."
And even if she did not, older memories fuelled any blanks. The cruel heat, the choke of smoke, blackened lungs clawing desperately for air. The roar and crackle still haunted her dreams; sheets of red that burned closed lids and sometimes even now jerked her awake on bad nights. She could smell the acrid stench of smoke cloyed to her hair and clothes, but rejected the cold touch of fear it left in her.
Peripheral details finally began to seep in. He said they were in a hospital, and she took brief note of their surroundings. She hated hospitals; more still being a patient. But she absorbed it all quietly, considering the fact that he had brought her here, and not to the makeshift triage tents of the refugee camp. Yet she wasn't injured; at least, she didn't feel it, and even the older wounds had settled into the numbness of exhaustion. Natalie could see with her own eyes the strips of dried blood on her arms with no cuts beneath them, but carefully set aside the strangeness for now.
How much time had passed?
She should have asked about the embassy. Ekene and Ayo and Laurene. The legionnaires and auxiliaries who'd bartered their lives to protect the embassy walls just a few moments longer. The African woman who had been in the foyer with her, fleeing for her life. And a hundred other concerns. But her shoulders slumped even without the extra burden, and selfish as it was she wasn't ready to step back into a world where Azu died for his trust and faith, where children ripped holes in each other's flesh, and warlords battled with the lives of their people like bloody pawns.
Instead she said nothing.
The gift that slept when she needed it most awoke to his presence; or, at least, she felt the barrier keeping it from her melt away. If she relaxed into it now she knew it would embrace her gladly; that the light would sink into every pore and crevice, lulling her all the way into a deep oblivion. She didn't have the stamina to guide it, not even the smallest piece to comfort herself with. But right now she didn't need it. Even under the crush of fatigue, stomach cramped painfully around itself, she sought and found a kind of peace. Or perhaps it was both those things that slowed the gears in her mind long enough to finally accept it.
She teased him for being here, though she wasn't lying about the dream. The remnants tickled at her consciousness, only to dissipate when it drew her focus. It was trite to admit she felt more strongly than ever a familiarity, and such sentimental musings would never pass her cynical lips. But it didn't mean that, for now at least, in this bubble of a moment, she couldn't simply accept the wash of warmth it left in its wake. Even knowing she'd need to relinquish the cot to a more deserving cause didn't hasten her limbs to move, though she knew she'd have to make the effort soon. Her own pride, if nothing else, wouldn't allow her to accept the preferential treatment. Even if her body ached with the need to close her eyes again.
Until one concern in the deluge fought its way to the front of her thoughts. Her gaze narrowed, pieces of a puzzle slotting together into an inexplicable image. She didn't remember the explosion that had, apparently, rendered her unconscious, but she did recall the sharp sting of ripped flesh when the tile shards had rained down. She had no cuts now, nor even marks; she'd reflected on that numerous times since waking. But it wasn't her own wounds she thought of.
"Your leg."
A tinge of curious accusation wired tight with the same concern she'd felt upon learning he'd deployed to the front lines injured. Her tone was too flat to be a question. She didn't need the gift to tell her something had changed; he could hardly kneel like that with the solid cast encasing his lower leg. Such injuries didn't miraculously improve with bedrest.
Natalie was not shy. The intimacy did not embarrass her, nor the display of her own affection. "I dreamt of you, I think."
A smirk toyed the edges of her lips, blooming playful in her pale gaze. The tease sought a lost connection. Offered with stark honesty something she did not understand, but decided on instinct to share. It seemed an acceptable risk. She had hit her head.
"I remember the fire."
And even if she did not, older memories fuelled any blanks. The cruel heat, the choke of smoke, blackened lungs clawing desperately for air. The roar and crackle still haunted her dreams; sheets of red that burned closed lids and sometimes even now jerked her awake on bad nights. She could smell the acrid stench of smoke cloyed to her hair and clothes, but rejected the cold touch of fear it left in her.
Peripheral details finally began to seep in. He said they were in a hospital, and she took brief note of their surroundings. She hated hospitals; more still being a patient. But she absorbed it all quietly, considering the fact that he had brought her here, and not to the makeshift triage tents of the refugee camp. Yet she wasn't injured; at least, she didn't feel it, and even the older wounds had settled into the numbness of exhaustion. Natalie could see with her own eyes the strips of dried blood on her arms with no cuts beneath them, but carefully set aside the strangeness for now.
How much time had passed?
She should have asked about the embassy. Ekene and Ayo and Laurene. The legionnaires and auxiliaries who'd bartered their lives to protect the embassy walls just a few moments longer. The African woman who had been in the foyer with her, fleeing for her life. And a hundred other concerns. But her shoulders slumped even without the extra burden, and selfish as it was she wasn't ready to step back into a world where Azu died for his trust and faith, where children ripped holes in each other's flesh, and warlords battled with the lives of their people like bloody pawns.
Instead she said nothing.
The gift that slept when she needed it most awoke to his presence; or, at least, she felt the barrier keeping it from her melt away. If she relaxed into it now she knew it would embrace her gladly; that the light would sink into every pore and crevice, lulling her all the way into a deep oblivion. She didn't have the stamina to guide it, not even the smallest piece to comfort herself with. But right now she didn't need it. Even under the crush of fatigue, stomach cramped painfully around itself, she sought and found a kind of peace. Or perhaps it was both those things that slowed the gears in her mind long enough to finally accept it.
She teased him for being here, though she wasn't lying about the dream. The remnants tickled at her consciousness, only to dissipate when it drew her focus. It was trite to admit she felt more strongly than ever a familiarity, and such sentimental musings would never pass her cynical lips. But it didn't mean that, for now at least, in this bubble of a moment, she couldn't simply accept the wash of warmth it left in its wake. Even knowing she'd need to relinquish the cot to a more deserving cause didn't hasten her limbs to move, though she knew she'd have to make the effort soon. Her own pride, if nothing else, wouldn't allow her to accept the preferential treatment. Even if her body ached with the need to close her eyes again.
Until one concern in the deluge fought its way to the front of her thoughts. Her gaze narrowed, pieces of a puzzle slotting together into an inexplicable image. She didn't remember the explosion that had, apparently, rendered her unconscious, but she did recall the sharp sting of ripped flesh when the tile shards had rained down. She had no cuts now, nor even marks; she'd reflected on that numerous times since waking. But it wasn't her own wounds she thought of.
"Your leg."
A tinge of curious accusation wired tight with the same concern she'd felt upon learning he'd deployed to the front lines injured. Her tone was too flat to be a question. She didn't need the gift to tell her something had changed; he could hardly kneel like that with the solid cast encasing his lower leg. Such injuries didn't miraculously improve with bedrest.