(no subject)

[last_adam]

Adam lays in the bed at Crowley's flat, bruised and battered. The girl- Lucy, it was Lucy who'd helped him here. Lucy had tried her drink again, and it hadn't just tasted bad this time, it had burned. Burned all the way down, and Adam choked and begged her to bring him here.

He knows he's alive- most of the time, anyway. But it hurts to breathe, and it hurts to move, and it hurts to be. But he is.

Comments

[last_adam]

The burn of the medication is only just another quiet voice in the chorus of pain that is surrounding Adam. He gasps for breath as she tends to another one, and his eyes open as he grabs her wrist.

[called_lioness]

She stops when he does so, looking at his face. "Are--" She was going to ask if he's alright, but the question is ridiculous, so she changes it to, "What is it?"

[last_adam]

He tries to tell her to leave it be, he'll be okay, leave it be, but nothing comes out but a light groan. His grip on her wrist loosens a bit, but he still holds on, bringing her wrist down to the bed.

[called_lioness]

Lucy bites her lip for a moment before going back to cleaning and bandaging best she can, where she can. Even if it means doing it with one hand.

When she's done, she brushes at his hair carefully with her free hand. "Is there something I can get you for pain?"

[last_adam]

He winces as her hand brushes against his scalp, but his face almost immediately relaxes.

"No."

[called_lioness]

She nods after a moment. "What--is there something you'd like me to do?"

[last_adam]

"Shhhhh. Sit."

He closes his eyes, but turns his head towards her.

[called_lioness]

Lucy sits next to him, carefully, one hand still very lightly, just barely touching his hair. "I'm so, so sorry, Adam."

[last_adam]

The raise of his chest might be an attempt to laugh. And when he speaks, his voice is hoarse and quiet.

"Sorry? You didn't do anything."

[called_lioness]

"But I'm sorry you were hurt. And I'm sorry I didn't think that my cordial might've hurt you. And--" why did he hurt you? "--I'm just sorry."

[last_adam]

But... you're here. Why?

[called_lioness]

As if it's obvious, "Because you're hurt."

[last_adam]

If somebody in as much pain as Adam is in could scowl, he scowls at her.

Didn't have to. Could've.. self.

[called_lioness]

She glares slightly. "No, you couldn't've. Besides which, it's not a matter of having to or not. I want to. So hush."

[last_adam]

"Not... have to?"

There's a beat, and he smiles before opening his mouth again.

"Could too"

[called_lioness]

"Not have to," she repeats.

"And perhaps," she allows, "but it would've probably made you worse, first, because of the strain, so it's better that I'm here anyway."

[last_adam]

He nods, carefully.

"Better."

And this time, there's a definite smile on his face, before the pain.

[called_lioness]

She winces for him before kissing his forehead. "I wish I could do something."

[last_adam]

He manages to get out a quiet

"Are 'ready"

before disolving into a coughing fit.

[called_lioness]

"Not really." She feels helpless, rather, as she smoothes his hair again. "I--I could get you something to drink, or tell you a story, or get you a blanket, or...a radio, if there is one..."

[last_adam]

He opens his eyes to look at her.

"Water... story?"

He lets Lucy's hand go reluctantly, and watches her until she reaches the kitchen. When she's returned, he's very painstakingly moved so that there's just enough room for her to stretch out.

[called_lioness]

She glares at him for moving even as she stretches out next to him and hands him the water carefully. "What sort of story would you like?"

[last_adam]

He carefully sips from the glass, and manages to get some in his mouth, with only a little down his front before handing the glass back to Lucy.

He turns and smiles at her.

"Story ... you"

[called_lioness]

Lucy sets the glass on the nightstand before looking back at him, thinking. "The third summer we were in Narnia--the first time, I mean, of course--Peter received his first marriage proposal. Which was rather a shock to us all, really, for all we should have suspected it, because...well, we were rather used to the idea of being rulers by then, but we weren't quite finished thinking of ourselves as just children, too, even if no one else treated us like them. But...well, really, we weren't even before that, you know. Peter stopped being a child when he killed the Witch's wolf, and Edmund when he helped kill the Witch," and perhaps before, but Edmund's secrets aren't hers to tell, and she shan't, "and Susan and I...Susan and I watched the Witch kill Aslan. And I don't think you can really be a child after that.

"But it was nice to pretend still. Sometimes, anyway. So at the end of the summer, the four of us went out hiking, which probably wasn't very monarch-like of us, but no one objected, either. And I knocked Edmund into the river, and the naiads came out and played with us. It was really quite fun."