who_the_hell_is (who_the_hell_is) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2015-04-11 15:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | castiel, james buchanan barnes, zz:status complete |
Pinnacle (Castiel)
Exhaustion was threatening James in a way that made him fearful for the red-headed little slip of a woman sleeping in the bed across the room. He had promised her to stay, to keep her nightmares at bay, and (oddly) to comfort her when she needed it. James would never have considered himself capable of comforting anyone, but she... She still clung to him as if he could make everything all right again. And he wanted to. He wanted to do that for her very much.
But he'd been pacing the bedroom they shared for the last three hours in the attempt to stay awake, and he felt more like a danger to her than a protector. The edges of his world were fading red-gray around the edges. He had started to think in Russian again.
James stood in front of the window overlooking the City. In the midnight hour, the City had been yet moving. But now, in the navy deeps of the evening, he detected very little movement at all. Across the rooftops, a great white steeple rose. Something deeply buried inside him told him that there was peace under that marker. That promise pulled strongly at him, over and over.
And when he found himself half-dreaming on his feet at the window, he finally gave in. He opened the window, closed it gently behind him, and walked the ledge until he could lead to the next roof. The church called him forward.