Not Mine! Takes place after episode 6, but there aren't any major spoilers.
She felt herself come back into consciousness slowly. Someone was dabbing water on her dry lips, in an effort to give her something to drink. She wasn't sure if it was in an effort to save her, or wake her up to torture her some more. Or maybe it wasn't water at all.
Drugs or not, her mouth was so dry. She struggled to part her lips, her muscles weak and her brain tired. The dryness of her lips had made them stick together, and when she finally pulled them apart slightly there was a faint ripping sound. The taste of salt penetrated her mouth, and she could feel small droplets of blood forming on her bottom lip. The wet stuff was definitely water, and now whatever and whoever was giving it to her put something very wet gently past her lips. Slowly she sucked on it – a wet cloth of some sort. The cold water felt heavenly.
"Olivia? Olivia, can you hear me?" She couldn't place the voice – it was someone. That much she knew. Her exhausted brain didn't even have enough energy to make fun of the observation. "Olivia, squeeze my hand, ok? If you can hear me, squeeze my hand."
She wanted to. She could feel her hand – it felt swollen and burnt. She wanted to twitch her fingers just the slightest bit, but it involved so much effort. All she wanted to do was drift back to sleep, but that seemed an impossibility. Had someone burned her? It was difficult to tell. She remembered searing pain. But what from? Where had she been? Things seemed unconnected in her brain. Where was she now?
She struggled to find the strength to wiggle her pinky, but she had none. She made an effort to make sound then, because it seemed the simplest thing to do. She tried, but her breath was not deep enough. Slowly she drew in a larger breath through her already opened mouth. At some point the cloth had been removed.
Searing pain flashed across her chest as it expanded. Tears filled her eyes, and her face stung as one trailed down her face. With the air she had left, a pitifully quiet whimpered escaped her lips.
In any other scenario, the cry would have gone unheard. But the Person was listening closely, because she heard,
"Please, Olivia, once more. Please. Just once more. You can do it, please."
She struggled. One thought echoed in her mind, and it had to be said. But how to speak when even shallow breathing felt like a thousand knives stabbing her chest?
Another whimper passed through, and she heard,
"Ok, Olivia. I know it hurts. Please, open your eyes. You have to do this. Please, Olivia."
She felt the tears coming faster now. It HURT. So much.
"please," she whispered, the word hoarse and barely audible.
"I know, I know," the voice was filled with so much sympathy and love. She wanted this to be real. Not a lie, or a trick, or a hallucination. She wanted someone to love her the way the voice promised it did. She wanted to know who the voice belonged to.
"it hurts," she managed, still just as quiet as the last time.
"I know, I know," it repeated, "But please, Olivia. I can't make it better until you open your eyes. Tell me you can open your eyes."
They felt so heavy. She wanted to – God knows she wanted to. But they hurt so much!
Come on! You've felt worse, she encouraged herself, but she wasn't sure she had.
Slowly they inched open, until she could finally see who the voice belonged to. She felt a faint twinge of surprise to see Him above her. Not the first person she thought of when thinking about love. Of course, she supposed she shouldn't be surprised. After all, she was capable of loving.
"Good."
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