Kiernan Manley (wingsofwyverns) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-04-23 07:56:00 |
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Waking, probably, wasn’t supposed to hurt this much. A low groan rumbled from his throat, teeth gritting, and he squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. He curled his fingers into a fist, except one felt the familiar warmth of another. Mag? Kiernan heard the thump of something toppling to the floor, and he turned his head (motherfucking ow) towards the noise, his eyes finally slowly opening. It was way too bright, and he had trouble focusing, but he’d know that blur of red hair anywhere. He tried to speak, but nothing more than an unintelligible grunt came out. He might have been annoyed by it, but his mind was still a haze, and he wasn’t even sure what he’d wanted to say anyway. (Maybe there was just too much to say.) In an instant, Mag had jumped out of her chair and was hovering over him, her free hand over his forehead. "You're awake," she whispered, then again, louder, "you're awake," as though she could not believe the thing she had been waiting for had come to pass. Her mind was reeling, full of all the unsaid things she had been turning over in her head for the past half-week; but before spilling them all, she turned and pressed the buzzer by the bed. The healer, looking like a man who had not slept in years, came in to answer the call; seeing Kiernan stir, he turned and called for assistance. In a matter of moments, clinic staff were swarming around the bed, taking Kiernan's vitals and testing for a million things Mag could not fathom. She kept her hold on his hand, and they did not ask her to let go or leave, but worked around her. In light of all the losses incurred in the days since the battle, perhaps they wanted to give her time to accept this minor miracle, or perhaps they recognised, accurately, that it would have taken half of the staff members present in the clinic to tear her apart from Kiernan's bedside. In the midst of the mob of -- what, doctors? -- Kiernan tried to lift himself from the bed, to use his free arm to shoo them all away. What was all the fuss about? But just the tiniest muscle contraction from the attempt at movement nearly had him howling in pain, so he fell back and let himself be accosted with all sorts of freezing gadgets and tired but determined hands. Mag hadn’t let go yet, and he was thankful for it, and he squeezed her hand in part in thanks, in part for comfort. As the staff worked, Kiernan came to more and more. He answered each question with either an affirmative or negative grunt; he didn’t trust himself to say anything intelligible yet. It wasn’t long before he realized that yes, he was, in fact, in a clinic, these were healers at his bedside treating him, and, most importantly, it really was Mag who was here. Kiernan squeezed tighter. He had his own questions, of course. Questions he knew he ought to know the answer to, such as What happened, and questions he was wary of discovering the answer, such as How long was I out. If he’d been out for only a few hours, there wouldn’t be such a scene right here, right now, but damn if Kiernan could remember what exactly had happened before he was knocked out. Wait a minute. “Lav?” he finally croaked out. “Is he--” "He's all right," Mag answered at once. "He's here too, but he's almost completely healed." That he had fallen off Amarant was not mentioned. It was a long story, and Kiernan had just woken up; better to let him hear everything from Lavitz later, and not overwhelm him now. The answer was enough, though, and Kiernan let out a sigh of relief. “Good.” Details of Kiernan’s own condition seemed to be considered irrelevant by the healer, once he signaled an end to the examination. He said simply, "You were out for a while, but there doesn't seem to be any permanent damage. You'll be all right, but you'll need to stay at the clinic until you've fully recovered." Kiernan groaned. The healer’s eyes flickered to Mag as he spoke, as though he was speaking for both their benefits. Mag wanted nothing more than to thank him, to ask if there was anything she could do, but instead all that came out was, "If I hug him, will I be hurting him?" "Just be careful," said the healer, smiling. "I know how you feel, but try not to rebreak his ribs and you'll be fine." With that, he led his entourage out, and Mag contented herself with placing a kiss on Kiernan's forehead. "How are you feeling?" she asked. “Like death,” he muttered, though his tone was not callous or light-hearted. “Really thought I was done for back there.” And if he had to be honest, he still wasn’t sure if he believed the healer when he said that he would be fine. Everything still hurt, and there didn’t seem like there would be an end to the pain. “Glad you’re here, though.” He met her eyes and smiled. But where usually she may have smiled in return to comfort him, this time she could not. Too soon after seeing Aspel die in front of her eyes. Her face hardened, and she said, “You’re not going to die. I won’t allow it.” Already as she spoke her mind was betraying her, providing her with scenarios in which Kiernan’s condition suddenly took a turn for the worse, inexplicably, and there was nothing she could do. “You can’t die,” she said, clutching his hand. “You can’t die, you’re going to get well, because I love you.” As the words left her mouth she realised they were true, and had been for some time. Under her breath, she swore, “Well, fuck.” Good job, Paget. Good thing overwhelming him after he just woke up wasn’t part of the plan. Kiernan had been about to try to make a joke to try to lighten the mood -- he hated seeing Mag like this, so obviously distressed, and he wanted to see her smile -- but it was the last admission that had him pause. His mind halted for a good few seconds before it began to churn those words around, over and over, before it finally sunk in, and the tiniest grin set upon his face. "You... what?" She stared at him for a moment; then, a small smile appeared slowly on her face. "Well, don't you look smug." Smug is good, Paget. "I said I love you, Kiernan." His grin grew wider, and he slowly lifted his hand to her cheek, ignoring the pain that shot through his arm (good thing it was his good shoulder, and damn if he had happily forgotten that he had a bad shoulder now), and gently pulled her to him, his lips brushing against hers. He had heard from many Rangers and Dragon Riders and others from the Guild that there were often one of two things that you saw if you were on the brink of death: either your entire life flash before your eyes, or all your loved ones. Kiernan couldn’t quite piece together exactly what he saw, except that Mag had been the most prominent image, and hearing her say these words enlightened him to what exactly that had meant. Once he pulled back, he smiled and said, “I love you too, Mag.” Her face lit up. (Any joke he could have thought of to cheer her up would have had a hard time competing with those words and the effect they had on her.) Now it seemed like some of the weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She had not planned to say those words, but they felt right. She reached out to touch the side of his face, gently. "That makes me happy," she said. "I'll be even happier when you get better. You will get better. And of course," her smile turned impish, "there are good things to come from that happiness." “Oh?” Kiernan chuckled as he took his hand to cover Mag’s, turning his head slightly to peck the inside of her palm. His own smile also turned mischievous. “Well, then, I guess I’ll just have to see about speeding up my recovery somehow, won’t I?” Laughing, she said, "That's what I like to hear. I've spent the last half-week whispering bribes into your ear, it had to work eventually." It was much easier to joke about it with Kiernan in front of her, awake and, if not at the moment well, soon enough he would be. She would not allow any other option. “Bribes? What kind of bribes? You’re not going to put me out by not telling me what they are, are you? Or by not following through on them?” He chuckled. “Especially the fun ones.” She gave him a mock-offended look, but the smile was still plain on her face. "Not following through? Hey, I am a woman of my word." She leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Though I suppose you'll just have to wait to find out what my word was. You were out for five days; I had a lot of time to get creative." He laughed, ignoring the lingering pain in his still too freshly healed ribs. “Well, now, I look forward to it.” |