Jay turned her attention back to Steve,
dismissing everyone else in the room as if they no longer existed. She couldn't
help it. He crowded everyone else out of her consciousness, flattening them
into one-dimensional cartoon characters. Nothing mattered except him, and since
his agonized attempt to talk to her, the feeling was even stronger than before.
It shattered her and terrified her, because it was so far outside her previous
experience, but she couldn't fight it. It was so strange; Steve was exerting
far more power over her now than he ever had before, when he'd had full use of
his senses and body, and his full range of charm. He was motionless and, for
the most part, insensate, but something deep and primal pulled her to him. Just
being in the same room with him made her heart settle into a stronger rhythm,
heating her flesh as her blood raced through her veins, energizing her.
"I'm back," she murmured, touching
his arm. "You can go to sleep now. Don't worry, don't fight the
pain...just let it go. I'm here with you, and I won't leave. I'll watch over
you, and I'll be here when you wake up again." Slowly his breathing
settled into an easier rhythm and his pulse rate dropped. His blood pressure
lowered. Air hissed from the tube in his throat in what would have been a faint
sigh had the tube not been in place. Jay stood by his bed, her fingers lightly
stroking his arm as he slept.
Where
are you? He came awake, screaming
silently as he clawed his way through the shrouding darkness and pain into an
even greater horror. The pain was like being eaten alive, but he could bear
that because despite its force, it was secondary to the horrible emptiness.
God, was he buried alive? He couldn't move, couldn't see, couldn't make a
sound, as if his body had died but his mind had remained alive. Terrified, he
tried again to scream and couldn't. Where
was he? What had happened?
He didn't know. God help him, he didn't know!
"I'm here," the voice crooned
soothingly. "I know you're frightened and don't understand, but I'm here.
I'll stay with you."
The voice. It was familiar. It had been in his
dreams. No, not dreams. Something deeper than that. It was in his guts, his
bones, his cells, his genes, his chromosomes. It was part of him, and he
focused on it with an intense, almost painful recognition. Yet it was oddly
alien, connected to nothing his conscious mind could produce.
"The doctors say you're probably very
confused," the voice continued. It was a calm, tender voice, with a
slightly husky catch in it, as if she had been crying. She. Yes. It was
definitely a woman. He had a vague memory of that voice calling to him, pulling
him out of a strange, suffocating darkness. She began reciting a litany of
injuries, and he listened to her voice with fierce concentration, only
gradually realizing that she was talking about him. He was injured. Not dead,
not buried alive.
The tidal wave of relief exhausted him.
She was still there the next time he surfaced,
and this time the initial terror was of shorter duration. Fractionally more
alert, he decided she was hoarse rather than teary.
She was always there. He had no concept of
time, only of pain and darkness, but gradually he became aware that there were
two darknesses. One was in his mind, paralyzing his thoughts, but he could
fight it. Slowly that darkness was becoming less. Then there was the other
darkness, the absence of light, the inability to see. Again he would have
panicked if she hadn't been there. Over and over she explained, as if she knew
he would only gradually comprehend her words. He wasn't blind; there were
bandages over his eyes, but he wasn't blind. His legs were broken, but he would
walk again. His hands were burned, but he would use them
dismissing everyone else in the room as if they no longer existed. She couldn't
help it. He crowded everyone else out of her consciousness, flattening them
into one-dimensional cartoon characters. Nothing mattered except him, and since
his agonized attempt to talk to her, the feeling was even stronger than before.
It shattered her and terrified her, because it was so far outside her previous
experience, but she couldn't fight it. It was so strange; Steve was exerting
far more power over her now than he ever had before, when he'd had full use of
his senses and body, and his full range of charm. He was motionless and, for
the most part, insensate, but something deep and primal pulled her to him. Just
being in the same room with him made her heart settle into a stronger rhythm,
heating her flesh as her blood raced through her veins, energizing her.
"I'm back," she murmured, touching
his arm. "You can go to sleep now. Don't worry, don't fight the
pain...just let it go. I'm here with you, and I won't leave. I'll watch over
you, and I'll be here when you wake up again." Slowly his breathing
settled into an easier rhythm and his pulse rate dropped. His blood pressure
lowered. Air hissed from the tube in his throat in what would have been a faint
sigh had the tube not been in place. Jay stood by his bed, her fingers lightly
stroking his arm as he slept.
Where
are you? He came awake, screaming
silently as he clawed his way through the shrouding darkness and pain into an
even greater horror. The pain was like being eaten alive, but he could bear
that because despite its force, it was secondary to the horrible emptiness.
God, was he buried alive? He couldn't move, couldn't see, couldn't make a
sound, as if his body had died but his mind had remained alive. Terrified, he
tried again to scream and couldn't. Where
was he? What had happened?
He didn't know. God help him, he didn't know!
"I'm here," the voice crooned
soothingly. "I know you're frightened and don't understand, but I'm here.
I'll stay with you."
The voice. It was familiar. It had been in his
dreams. No, not dreams. Something deeper than that. It was in his guts, his
bones, his cells, his genes, his chromosomes. It was part of him, and he
focused on it with an intense, almost painful recognition. Yet it was oddly
alien, connected to nothing his conscious mind could produce.
"The doctors say you're probably very
confused," the voice continued. It was a calm, tender voice, with a
slightly husky catch in it, as if she had been crying. She. Yes. It was
definitely a woman. He had a vague memory of that voice calling to him, pulling
him out of a strange, suffocating darkness. She began reciting a litany of
injuries, and he listened to her voice with fierce concentration, only
gradually realizing that she was talking about him. He was injured. Not dead,
not buried alive.
The tidal wave of relief exhausted him.
She was still there the next time he surfaced,
and this time the initial terror was of shorter duration. Fractionally more
alert, he decided she was hoarse rather than teary.
She was always there. He had no concept of
time, only of pain and darkness, but gradually he became aware that there were
two darknesses. One was in his mind, paralyzing his thoughts, but he could
fight it. Slowly that darkness was becoming less. Then there was the other
darkness, the absence of light, the inability to see. Again he would have
panicked if she hadn't been there. Over and over she explained, as if she knew
he would only gradually comprehend her words. He wasn't blind; there were
bandages over his eyes, but he wasn't blind. His legs were broken, but he would
walk again. His hands were burned, but he would use them
Similar Books
