Please don't
A/N: I know it's been awhile since I wrote anything. I've both lost a lot of my interest in writing as much as I did, and I've lost my free time. Life really gets in the way sometimes. :p
I'm sorry Dally is a little OOC, it was just one of those moments when I couldn't help it.
XXX
She's been coughing for 3 weeks now. A week and a half ago is when she started to cough up the blood. She hasn't been able to get up from her bed in 2 weeks, and she's been throwing up everything she tries to eat since she got sick.
Dally is sitting by the mattress, his back to the wall while he waits for the thermometer to beep. Her temperature has been rising steadily for just over 2 weeks. Little by little it's gotten to the point that she's sweating so bad, he has to change the bedding every couple hours. He's never been so scared in all his life - not that he's been living that long, yet, 12 years seems like forever at the moment. The last three weeks have been Hell.
He's tried to force her to the hospital, but she won't go. Even in her state, she refuses to go, and there's no way he can make her go willingly. He can't take her himself, it's too far, and none of the other guys care enough to want to take her. They think that they've all been through worse with fight wounds that have gotten infected, so if she can't fight this sickness, she's weak and doesn't belong. Dally assumes that's the reason why she won't go, because it'd be a sign of weakness to go get real medical attention for something 'minor'. The only guy who'd care - and be able to move her - is Trevor. But he's in jail for another week and a half.
At the rate she's going, she won't be around that long.
She stirs in her sleep, moaning in pain as she withers and shoves the blankets away from herself. She goes between burning hot, to freezing cold, and yet her temperature never wavers, it's always increasing. The thermometer falls from her mouth, and he picks it up. Too high, it's always too high.
"Dal..." Her voice is so weak, he almost misses it. But he moves closer to the mattress that sits on the floor of the living room. He had to move her down here. The bathroom and kitchen are close enough that if he leaves - which he rarely does - he'll easily hear her if she calls for him.
"Yea, Mia." He says as he adjusts the sheets. They need to be changed. He'll have to move her to the couch for a little while. If he can lift her.
"Dal... I think I'm gonna..." He's already got the bin pulled to the edge of the bed, and has gotten her into a more seated position before she coughs and sputters up whatever was in her stomach. Which is nothing but what little water he managed to give her in the past 8 hours. It's water, and blood. There's a lot of blood.
She sputters a little more as she spits out whatever is left in her mouth, and Dally reaches for the bottle of mouthwash and the little cup that he's kept beside the bed, just for this reason. He moves her so that she's sitting up, and moves to sit behind her, so that she isn't supporting all her own weight. He hands her the small cup of mouth wash, and helps her tip it back.
She swishes it around a little before leaning over to spit it into the bin, and then she's leaning back against him, her eyes closed, her hair soaked in sweat and plastered to her face and neck. Her clothes are rumbled, she hasn't changed in a week, the last time was when she was able to sort of move on her own.
"I can't do this..." Her voice isn't above a whisper, and Dally needs to lean his head down to hear her. "I can't take this anymore..."
"Then let me take you to the hospital." Dally urges, crumbling the sheets in his fist as he tries not to take his frustration out on the wall. Why won't she just go?! Damn the guys, and damn her stupid, willful pride! If she didn't go soon, she was going to die... And what would he do then?
"No." It's the first time her sentence doesn't drift off. "I won't go." She's slipping away again. "I can't..." And then she's gone again, and there isn't anything he can do, because she isn't going to make it if she doesn't move now - if he doesn't move her now.
For the first time in so many years, Dally feels tears leak from his eyes, and he tries to push them away, to push them down. But they won't go. So he holds on tighter and buries his face in her hair.
"Don't go, Mia." He begs. "Please, just don't." But it's too late. She's slipping unconscious again, and this time, he knows, she isn't going to wake back up.
XXX
I don't know where that came from. I haven't been feeling well, so I thought a little story about Dally taking care of Mia would be kind of cute, and then this happened. Maybe I should write a happier one, just to balance it out. :p
Reviews are awesome! :)
~Stay Gold!