"Dave?"
Rose's voice invades his murky dreams, distant but intelligible. He flounders on the brink of the unconscious, but eventually lucidity wins out and he's brought back to reality.
Dave tries to respond, but his brain is still fuzzy and his mouth is still asleep, so all that comes out is a strange "mwaauh?"
"Did I wake you?"
"No shit," Dave croaks, struggling to sit up but finding no firm purchase on the pillows below him to aid him.
In the half light, Dave can just make out the slight raise of Rose's eyebrows. "Really? My apolgies, then. I am far too used to you being awake, it seems." She presses two fingers to his forehead and pushes him back down with infuriating ease. "I think the only time I have seen you legitimately asleep was when you were on the brink of death."
Dave might be half asleep, but he doesn't miss the weight of the comparison. "I'm fine."
"Of course you are," Rose replies, not even making an effort to pretend she believes him.
"I am. All better."
"That would imply you were not 'better' before." Rose sits beside him. "Something happened."
"Nothing important."
"Don't test me, Dave. I am very, very weary of that sort of god damned lying statement." Dave doesn't need to be able to make out the details of her expression to know she's exhausted. He fumbles around until he finds her hand, then squeezes it in his own.
"I'm okay, chickie. I promise."
"Oh, yes. I believe you. Certainly."
Dave shifts uncomfortably. "Rose-"
"Let's all say we're fine, hm? That will solve everything."
He's starting to realize what he should do, what he should have done before, and his tone changes. "Rose, I-"
"It isn't as though I could help you at all, oh, no, that's simply ridicul-"
"Rose!" Dave interrupts, feeling the anxiety rise in his chest.
"What?" snaps Rose.
After a long pause and a deep breath, Dave says, "I'll...I'll show you."
Still a little brusque, Rose only says a simple "thank you" before going to turn on the lights.
Now that everything is illuminated, the terror heightens. What the fuck is he thinking, promising something like that? She's the last person he wants to find out. He can't. It's impossible, at least if he wants any chance at an okay relationship with her. He can't face losing another sibling, not like this.
"I'm waiting."
Dave takes another deep breath. No, he has to. He can't pretend forever-one wrong move and she'd find out anyway. He might as well be the one to tell her.
"Alright, before I do anything, there are some things I have to say first," Dave states. He feels a little better pretending there are conditions, as though he can control the situation. "Look, I know you've had some problems with this sort of thing before so just promise me that you won't freak out, okay."
Rose raises an eyebrow but nods.
"It's kind of annoying, but there's nothing really wrong, and to be honest I don't give two shits, so you shouldn't either, okay."
"It would be easier to agree if I knew what you were talking about," Rose says.
Dave sighs. "Yeah. Alright." He closes his eyes, draws a long breath, and lifts his shirt just high enough to reveal the scar on his stomach.
For a long period, there is complete silence. Dave doesn't know what's happening so he slowly opens his eyes again, trying to judge the reaction. To his strange surprise, Rose seems to be doing the same.
"Uh," says Dave.
"Oh, Dave." Rose sits beside him again and frowns ever so slightly, her eyes flicking from his face to the scar and back again.
"It's-it's nothing. Seriously, I just woke up and it was there and I mean, at least my guts aren't falling out so it's a pretty good bargain, I think. It doesn't hurt or anything, well, I mean it gets kind of tight in the winter but I think that's just a skin thing and-"
"May I touch it?"
Dave just stares dumbly back at her. "What."
"Is it alright if I touch it?" she asks.
There's a war waging inside Dave now because he's afraid that if she touches him, it'll be that same awful, pitying touch. It might be well-intentioned, but gentleness arising from misguided sympathy makes him feel sick. He doesn't want her to feel bad. Fuck, if he doesn't feel anything about it, why the hell should she? In fact, it's almost amusing. A fitting patch-up job for just another puppet of the game. Better to have an ugly gut than a holey one.
But in the end, he knows he has to agree. This is Rose asking him, and he can't say no to her. Not now. There wasn't even a point to it anymore; he'd already crossed the line. Might as well go all the way and get it all done with. Maybe then he could start picking up the pieces.
"Uh. I guess so. Sure." Dave leans back a little and Rose runs her hand over the puckered mark. He shivers slightly under her touch, but it isn't what he'd been dreading by a long shot. She's gentle, sure, but ever since she found him, she'd been gentle. It wasn't like she had a long standing history of rough affection, either; she wasn't the one starting rooftop strifes or forcing him to watch shitty mech cartoons every friday night. It's not bad.
Really...it's pretty nice. What he had always thought was a permanent knot in his stomach was starting to loosen-just a little-and it calmed whatever leftover fear and anxiety still persisted. She's mending the ragged hole-no, she's reminding him that it hasn't existed in years. It's gone now, gone for good, and Dave suddenly wants to cry. It's just...nice.
"Dave?"
For the second time in half an hour, Dave is called back to the present by Rose's quiet call. He looks at her for a moment before realizing he's been pressing her hand tight to his stomach and leaning into the touch. "Shit!" He quickly releases her, reacting as though he's been scalded, and shoves himself further up the bed and away from her. "Fuck, Lalonde-Rose-I'm sorry."
"Are you alright?" Her violet eyes are on his face and he feels the blood rush to his cheeks.
"I'm fine," he mutters. "Fucking peachy."
"Oh?" she says lightly.
"Yes, 'oh', don't fucking 'oh' me," Dave growls. "I'm motherfucking fine."
"Really? Because my observational skills do detect a rather serious case of mood whiplash," she says, lips twitching. "Fear, ecstasy, anger..."
Embarassment flares in Dave's throat. "It wasn't fucking ecstasy!"
"No?" Before Dave can fight back, Rose has slipped her hand under his shirt and ghosted across his stomach again. Just like before, the knot begins to loosen and his stress starts to ebb away.
In a very uncool moment, he collapses against her, face pressed to her shoulder.
"Oh my," says Rose.
"Fuck you," Dave replies weakly. "Stop it."
"Now why would I do that? I don't think I've ever seen you looking so peaceful. This will be wonderful to exploit in the future."
"Fuck you," he says again.
"I'm curious, though. I thought you had a rather potent healing factor."
"I do."
"And yet this-" Rose prods his stomach-"still persists? Even after all of these years?"
"Looks like it. Guess it's part of the reset state. Last save. This is how I'm meant to be. It doesn't do overlap, either." Dave lifts his shirt again and points to the now faded bruise. "This'd be what you were worrying about before. I told you I'd be fine."
"Dave, just because you won't be in pain later doesn't mean I shouldn't worry about you when you're in pain now," Rose sighs, inspecting the now-shadow of a wound. "It's the same for everyone; you just happen to mend a little faster than the rest."
Dave shrugs. "It doesn't matter."
"It does matter," says Rose. "You matter."
At this, Dave gives up trying to resist. He succumbs to Rose's gentle ministrations, letting the knot slowly unfurl, lulling him into a state of relaxation.
"I hadn't expected something this...textured, you know," says Rose. "John's scars are much slimmer."
"You try having a sword ripped out of you and see if your patchwork gut turns out fancy," Dave replies.
"Ah. Yes, that is what I had guessed."
"Congladurations. You won. You get a gold star."
Rose ignores this. "If that was the cause, does it extend to your back as well?"
"Yeah." Dave shifts as Rose slides her hand around to his back, pulling him into a half-embrace.
"Here?"
"No," Dave snorts. "You'll feel it. I promise."
"Ah. Yes, of course."
Nonetheless, Dave can't stay annoyed for long and soon he's resting his head on her shoulder again as she traces the perimeter of the mark on his back with her fingers. Maybe he didn't sleep long enough and his body is protesting the premature return to consciousness, but Dave is, for once, feeling legitimately sleepy. Not pass-out sleepy or healing factor sleepy, but true sleepiness-something he hasn't really felt for years.
"Hey, chickie," he mumbles.
"Yes?"
"Thanks."
"For what?"
"For...not changing when you found out."
"Why would I change?"
Dave shifts again, lightheaded. "Trust me. Sometimes people do."
Rose simply kisses the top of Dave's head in reply, and soon he's dozing peacefully at her side.
