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Here's chapter four. I've changed the rating, as suggested by Sweet Je T'aime, because the very end of this chaplet kind of leads into actual interaction. And I know some people are more sensitive to that than others. If you take out the incest factor, you could still call it T, however ^^
This was originally supposed to have chapter three's name. Oh well.
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PIV. CHILDREN'S GAMES
Does he know?
She doesn't think so.
Maybe it's childish, but she does it anyway. She picks up the old toy, and presses her fingers against the window.
Nathan comes in quietly, careful not to disturb her. She's wearing the stethoscope, and pressing the metal ring to the window, like she had when she was little. He sits on the edge of her bed, and watches.
The city is clinically dead, as far as Shiloh can tell. Not even the faintest of tremors. In the books she'd read, the authors always referenced the heart of the city, or the pulse of the people. Something like that. But it's quiet.
It must be past everybody's bedtime, she tells herself. Optimism, because, well, she doesn't have much else.
There's something reflected in the glass—a familiar figure. She has Dad, too. And he has her. Does he know that?
After a long minute, she turns around, feigns surprise so she can smile at him. Stepping away from the window, she pushes aside the plastic curtain and sits on the bed across from him. He starts to shift when she stops him. She's gently pressing the stethoscope to his shoulder. Nathan only hesitates a moment before smiling back, nodding a little.
He tenses when she first presses the little metal ring to his chest, just beneath his collar bone. The metal must be cold. But he relaxes, and she slides the ring a little lower, until the shirt stops her from continuing.
The heartbeat is loud: a stark contrast from the city. And she remembers that time, years ago, when she'd first pulled the stethoscope off, and he'd shown her how to use it. Now, at fifteen, it's not quite so wondrous, but it's still—it still does something for her. And it's not really a child's game, not anymore.
Does he know that? The question makes her smile. She's bitter, but she doesn't let it show. And she's pretty sure the answer's no. He couldn't know because she hadn't told him.
She hasn't moved for a minute, and when she realizes this, she blinks in surprise. He's looking at her, a little concerned. When she turns her eyes up to meet his, he relaxes, and his heartbeat's loud in her ears.
Shiloh's feeling a little lightheaded now.
She should probably take some medicine.
She has to let him know that, though.
And her throat feels weak. Her voice will only be a whisper. She leans forward so he'll be able to hear her, only she forgets what she wants to say. So she improvises.