First of all I want to send a heartfelt "thank you!" to every one of you who favorited and reviewed and even read this story! It honestly means a lot to me to be able to share my feelings about my favourite show in prose form with you guys! I hope you'll have fun with this new chapter. I hope to get chapter 3 written and posted over the weekend.
2
The way up the seemingly endless stairs brings fresh pain. She clings to Ethan's arms with what little remains of her strength, wincing faintly with the movement of Ethan's steps.
She knows where they are headed and she is dreading the direction. Not this room, not again. If she could only speak.
They get closer and closer to the door of the room she so desires to forever leave behind and now she puts all force she can gather into her fingers, clawing at Ethan.
Don't let me go.
He touches her hair now, stroking softly, calming. But she does not give in so easily, not when the threat of him deserting her yet again in a place that means nothing but sorrow to her is hovering about her like a scythe ready to fall.
"Sh, it's alright", Ethan murmurs, halting mid-step. She feels a tinge of relief at him not yet taking her where she is always doomed to be. He places the tenderest of kisses on her hair, as if not to hurt her more.
There is again so much she wants to say in this very moment, so many things she has never told him and loathed herself for keeping from him so many times when she still had the chance for him to hear them.
Now, with her lips numb and her tongue powerless and her entire body so frail and dependent, she only has her thoughts to resort too and her trembling fingers clawing at him to make him understand.
"Ethan, I do not mean to rush you, but we must advance further quickly."
The doctor.
"Mr. Chandler, will you bring her to the bed now."
The father.
She is unable to see them right now, but they must be behind or in front of Ethan, urging him to get her into the room.
Please no.
Her fingers will not let him go. She will not cease the hold she has on him, as weak as it might be. She hears him breathe, hesitate.
"It seems there is no getting her inside of that room now", the doctor states drily, but with an undertone of compassion that is rare to him, the sympathy that sets him apart from the cold, heartless scientist he prefers to appear as.
"We'll take mine", Ethan says and the sound of his voice makes it unmistakably clear there will be no arguments or negotiations with him on this point. Again, she feels his fingers stroking her hair, murmuring:
"So sorry, Vanessa, we'll have a few more steps to take now."
She thinks of the room, his room and there are only good things she associates with it. Another many of these things she has not told him; like how good, how right his arm had felt on her shoulder when she had lain down in his bed, seeking shelter. Shelter both from the otherworldly things beyond the walls of Grandage Place and the terror inside her mind that rages on when she is vulnerable, alone and unprotected.
Then again, she has never needed to put into words what she felt to make him understand. No, she never needs to. But she longs to, so deeply, because he deserves to hear it.
In her mind, she sees him praying again, kneeling down before their Lord. Her bible she had left by his pillow before she had left his room, watching him sleep for tiny, precious moments, his tall figure in sleep younger and without the weight of their worries.
She sees the one single candle he has left alit for her. Oh, how he has left a light on for her after all that has happened.
The Wolf of God.
Oh, how she is enamoured with him and he might never know just how deep her feelings run.
They reach Ethan's room before she can focus too intently on how much pain the way causes her.
He lays her down carefully, she knows he wants to spare her as much pain as possible – otherwise he would never have left her all these months ago not knowing how much worse everything would become – nevertheless, the pain is there and it claims her, making her whimper audibly.
She hears movements, shifting, the sound of tools being brought forward. Medical equipment, she assumes, recognising the sharp, metallic sounds, the snapping of a doctor's case. She hears the door close. But still she feels her hand enclosed by his warm fingers. Protected.
For a second she manages to open her eyes although her lids feel already far too heavy. In the corner of her eye she sees the doctor prepare a syringe and she swallows hard, suppressing the urge to scream even though she knows she wouldn't possibly be able to make a sound.
He gives her hand a slight squeeze and she focuses on him instead, looking up into his eyes. It is a random thought, she knows, but he truly is beautiful. She registers numbly that she misses his long hair though, this wonderfully outward sign of the wild being, the ferocity he keeps at bay. The wildness she adores him for.
"Ethan", she breathes, strained, but all the more determined to go through with her attempt at speaking.
His glance searches her face before it settles on her eyes. There is such softness in his eyes now.
"I'm not gonna leave you, you know that. Never again, Vanessa."
The doctor casts a glance sideways, critically, utterly back in his professionally detached manner.
"You may stay and hold her hand, but do not wear her out. A sickbed is not a place for promises."
She sees Ethan swallow and nod grudgingly. The doctor is the authority now, this has been established time and time again.
But she feels this rule does not apply to her, not when she is the one between all states.
"Ethan", she starts anew and his eyes seem to light up faintly once again, "I…."
She longs to say the words. Three words she has never uttered. Now, before it may be too late.
She feels him taking her hand in both his hands now, enveloping it without pressure.
"You're safe, Vanessa."
She wants to smile.
And in that very moment, she feels the tip of the syringe plunge into her skin near her other hand and it takes seconds before everything turns to black.