Phoebe had been watching Mikhail for some time now; he hadn't noticed that she'd awoken. He was seated at the foot of the bed on the guest chair with his head bowed, gaze fixed intently on the floor and his hands clasped. With dishevelled hair and a stern, contemplative expression, Mikhail looked more like a figure in a dramatic painting than a real person.
His presence of body did seldom to fill the cold, sterile room; he was further away from her than ever before.
She called.
"Mikhail?"
He jumped to life with a start, almost falling off his seat, which startled her in turn. He faced her, surprise morphing into anguish. In an instant, she was in his embrace, his torso over hers and his face buried in her hair; he was warm.
He cried, his tears wetting her face as he pressed against her, kissing her frantically and muttering in Russian.
Phoebe was too tired to attempt to decipher the man's words but heard 'God' and its variants repeated over and over; that she knew by heart.
Finally, she returned his embrace, hands circling his back as he wept.
"It's okay, Misha." Phoebe whispered.
"I'm here. I'm here."
I had been sitting on this for well over a year now. Roughly January/February 2017. One of the first in a sizeable collection of Mikhail/Phoebe drabbles and one-shots. Not how I wanted to start off this compilation of one-shots, but, it is here.
Hope you enjoyed.
