Authors Note: Ok, long story short I have been away for the past week or so celebrating finishing school with a plethora of late nights. Hence my brain being held on by only a tiny thread. I had this section written before I left and meant to post it as a kind of teaser, then time got away from me and blah blah blah, excuses excuses excuses, I ended up not posting it.
Still brain dead, so no decent writing will be coming for a time, but figured that I could at least supply you with this tiny teaser before you get the next, hopefully large, chapter fairly soon.
Oh, SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS by the way, my opinion of season two, still fairly low, but episode nine, did anyone else think that maybe there was a hint of the glory days in that one? Some hilarity from Much, a clear point to Will and Djaq being an item AND, a moment with Will and Allan where they didn't hate each other. I was practically giddy.
END SPOILERS
Anyway. The authors note is now longer than the chapter. I apologise profusely. More soon.
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It felt like he had fallen asleep in a furnace. Was that possible? His muddled brain was trying to inform him that when one fell asleep in a furnace one would be burnt so quickly as to have no time to realise that one had fallen asleep in said furnace, but he was still sure that that was what he had done.
After all, how else could he be feeling so hot? He was sweating, burning.
Maybe not the furnace, but something equally hot.
Was the house on fire? He smelt no smoke, or at least he didn't think he could smell smoke. Surely if the house were on fire he would be suffocating in the stuff. Unless the fire had only just started. But then he should be getting up, and telling his family that there was a fire. Did Luke know yet, or his father?
He tried to shift, to get himself out of his bed, which felt nothing like his bed, to warn them of the danger. But even the slightest movement, a tiny twitch of his body, elicited waves of terrible pain to wash over him, pain which until that point had been relatively obscured by the heat.
He moaned, wishing he could just roll over and curl up on himself, to escape the fire and the pain, neither of which he could remember or understand.
Suddenly it felt like his prayers were answered, or at least some of them. A cool hand, delicate and soft was on his forehead, cooling his ailing body. He sighed with something akin to relief. He would know that touch anywhere, and even though a simple hand on the forehead explained nothing about his current situation he felt, for a moment, safe.
His voice, rough from screams and disuse was weak and soft, and he wondered for a moment, blearily, if it was even him speaking.
"Djaq?"
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Ducks to avoid items thrown at head, sorry, that be all. But more soon, cross my heart.