Too Close
Sarie Venea
Set after some serious John whumping, I felt the need for a good post-ouch comfort scene for Elizabeth and him. Enjoy.
Elizabeth glanced around, before opening her computer and quickly finding the biometrics sensors. Scanning over the city, she found what she was looking for. A dot, lone, across the living quarters from the control room, somewhat near the infirmary. Closing the program and shutting off the laptop, she left her office, giving the techs a vacant smile as she moved in the direction of that dot, praying no one else would find it first.
The hallways were quiet, the early morning hazy and sleepy. She stopped at the infirmary door, smiling as she discovered the good doctor in the same position she'd found him the first time, his head down on the desk, snoring loudly. The nurse on duty returned her conspirational smile before returning the stack of charts spread across an empty bed.
She stopped by a certain empty room, palming open the door. It was quiet, the curtains fluttering in the silence. She crossed to the bed and lifted the pillow into her arms, picking up the neatly folded blanket from the end and standing still for a moment, her eyes closed, absorbing the essence of the man who lived in this place. So close. They'd come so close this time. She swallowed hard and left, shutting the door and continuing her trek.
The place in question was a balcony, enclosed and out of the way. Elizabeth stood in front of the stained glass window that formed part of the back wall, watching the distorted image of man who sat outside. A light wind was moving his hair, but she could see the thick military-issue blanket that was wrapped around his shoulders. His knees were drawn up, a laptop balanced across them. She could make out the name "Zelenka" in permanent marker across the side. In Czech. She smiled, the soft hissing of the door giving her away as she stepped through.
He wasn't looking at the computer, and didn't look up at her. She knelt next to him, a hand on his back moving him forward, away from the wall he leaned against, sliding the pillow down to his lower back. She rubbed her fingers across the back of his neck, just a touch before she pulled back, unfolding the blanket and tucking it over his legs, around his hips. She winced inside as her hands brushed against the jutting bones. So close.
He hadn't moved, staring out, the horizon reflected in the green. She sat back on her heels, looking at him. The dark hair was uncharacteristically flattened by his time in a bed, without a shower. She reached up and brushed it away from his eyes, letting her fingers take warmth from his cold cheek. Shifting around, she tucked herself into the wall and into his side, her arms around her knees, her shoulder and hip under his. Elizabeth glanced at the laptop, noting the letter that began simply, addressing a distant, unknown mother who would hate the words as much as she wanted more.
She again looked up into his face, his darkened eyes still watching waves far away. His fingers were tight around the sides of the keyboard's sides, the large grey blanket draped over his arms. Elizabeth sighed softly, pressing closer. She laid her head sideways, resting on his sharp, strong shoulder. She felt the trickle of something in her hair and tilted back to see him. Silent tears. She eased her fingers over his, stroking lightly before returning to her huddled position, keeping her hands around her knees. Closing her eyes, she watched the dawn under her eyelids and felt the slow descent of his cheekbone against her temple.
Too close.