moonlit

She's never liked hospitals. With the smell of sterile surfaces and the bright lights, it was not a welcoming place. One might think as the child of an automail mechanic, such things wouldn't dare cause her distress. But this was all the more reason for her to feel sorrow.

She'd admit that when Aurora first told her that the Colonel and her dearest Second Lieutenant were injured on a mission, Amelia's response was to demand tearily to be taken to the hospital right then and there. But she was swayed otherwise by the Major, who told her quite frankly her emotional state would only make things worse.

So, she took a deep breath, waited for Aurora to return from her own visit, then took the car to head right back to the hospital alone.

She's been standing in the hall, back against the rail, with her arms full of flowers for about five minutes now. What was she to say? She's never been the best at comforting people. (and from what Aurora's told her, it was not good.)

The woman sighed. Alright, no more of this waiting around, just go in. She turned to the door, which was left slightly ajar, and slowly opened it.

"Knock knock," Her voice called from the doorway like a melody. Amelia peered in from the doorway, looking at Jean. Oh, what a relief; he didn't seem too bad for wear apart from his legs. (She was expecting bruising, deep lacerations, and overall more physical damage than what appeared.) && it seems the Colonel wasn't around, which was to their benefit, she supposed. So, she tries to smile, "Hey you. Can I come in?"

Can he truly be blamed, though?

Hospitals are grim and dreadfully boring places. Especially when you're the patient. Bedridden after the attack, Jean's left mentally clawing at the walls he can't reach. He receives visitors, sure, but their meager attempts to lighten the mood, or pass along their 'best wishes' fall flat, leaving the soldier more sour than he was prior to their visit.

The days don't get better.

Neither will his legs.

Doctors, nurses, and the like try to be encouraging. They tell him that with extensive therapy, there's always the possibility. It's wishful thinking, maybe even laughable. Eventually, he tires and sends them away, demanding a moment's respite from all the clinical talk. To stare at the same four white walls. Seconds, minutes, and hours tick by.

Knock, knock.

That sweet-sounding voice he's come to not-so-secretly adore draws him away from steadily darkening thoughts. The anger swelling within vanishes at the sight of her face. Possibly the first visitor he's ready to welcome with open, exhausted arms.

‘ how about i take you home? ’

‘ who do you fight for? ’

‘ you can relax. we’re safe here.’ 

‘ are you threatening me? ’

‘ i told you to leave me out of this. ’

‘ i guess it runs in the family, huh? ’

‘ you’re leaving already? ’

‘ that sounds dangerous. i’m in!’ 

‘ what do you wish for? ’

‘ you look like you just saw a ghost.’ 

‘ don’t look at me like that. ’

‘ we can just sit here. we don’t have to talk.’ 

‘ you can’t get rid of me that easy. ’

‘ do you want something for the pain? ’

‘ can i have some cash? ’

‘ i know you’re dangerous, but i also know you won’t hurt me.’ 

‘ that’s quite a scratch you’ve got there.’ 

‘ when was the last time you slept? ’

‘ i know who you are. i know what you’ve done. ’

‘ you’re being followed. pretend you know me.’ 

‘ you never should’ve left. ’

‘ i think i’m getting sick. ’

‘ snap out of it! ’

‘ yes i killed them, but i did it for you.’ 

‘ don’t treat me like a child. ’

‘ how does it feel to be in love? ’

‘ surprised to run into you here. ’

‘ how many people have you killed? ’

‘ i didn’t want to come, but i need your help. ’

Sidon flashes a toothy grin, beaming with pride at his accomplishment. With hard work and a lot of practice, he'll be an unstoppable force in the future!

❝ I'm not yet, though, right? ❞ Pulling himself out of the water, Sidon grabs her hand, urging his dear friend to stand with him. It's vital information to know. Palm settling on his own head, he moves it toward her, taking great care to keep it steady.

Hip level.

the exhausted

“I can’t sleep.”

“I can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Can you help me back to bed?”

“I’m okay. I’m not even that tired.”

“I don’t remember the last time I slept.”

“I can’t sleep, yet. There’s too much to do.” 

“I don’t want to sleep. I keep having nightmares.”

“I promise I’ll sleep in a bit, just let me finish this, first.”

“Can you help me lie down? I can’t move, I’m too tired.”

“I can’t even think straight anymore… maybe I need to sleep.”

“Of course I want to relax. But, we don’t all get what we want.”

“I’m so tired I can’t do anything, but I’m not tired enough to sleep…”

the concerned

“You keep yawning.”

“Go. Sleep. That’s not a request.”

“If you’re that tired, just take a nap.”

“You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were this tired?”

“Those are some bad bags under your eyes.”

“You don’t have to push so hard. It’s okay to rest.”

“You can barely keep your eyes open, go lie down.”

“I haven’t seen you sleeping in a long time, what’s up?”

“I just had to stop you from toppling over. You’re not okay.”

“With everything you’ve been through lately, of course you’re tired.”

“I heard you thrashing around last night. Nightmares? Is that why you’re so tired?”

“You know, you keep fretting over everyone else, but you won’t even take a second to relax, yourself.”

misc

(doze) : one muse falls asleep on the other’s shoulder

(tuck) : one muse finds the other passed out onto the bed, and tucks them in

(collapsed) : one muse finds the other passed out on the floor from exhaustion

(carry) : one muse finds the other after they’ve fallen asleep on a chair / couch, and carries them to bed 

(cover) : one muse finds the other asleep somewhere other than bed and covers them with a blanket / their jacket

(assist) : one muse finds the other so tired they’re having trouble standing and helps them walk somewhere to lie down