Tossing and Turning
Jim had once heard that actors in TV shows really, really hated playing someone in a coma.
After what had to be less than five minutes, he thought he understood why.
This is boring, he thought. At the same time it required way too much attention, keeping his breathing shallow and regular. Not letting the sudden itches that sprang up (the side of his nose, his left shoulder blade, the back of his neck) distract him. Not getting to alleviate those itches.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Being onstage in Romeo and Juliet hadn't been this bad. There'd always been the next line to remember, the next placement cue.
And Claire.
Her big brown eyes looking at him. Her slight smile as, for maybe the first time ever, she saw him, who he was, what he did, in full.
Even if he'd hated every moment of it, which he hadn't, it would have been worth it all for that one perfect kiss, Juliet to Romeo, before she mock-stabbed herself and collapsed on top of him, ending the tragedy.
Jim really hoped there would be a kiss at the end of this too.
There was also Douxie to consider. Jim was pretty sure the vampire/wizard wouldn't hurt him on their way out, and he generally seemed to be a good sort, but... that was after fourteen years caged in this place. Pretty much everything Jim had ever read or watched about vampires said they were horrible, selfish, violent creatures out for blood. What if that was right? Was setting Douxie free really a good idea?
(Folklore and popular culture had a lot to say about trolls, too. He and Toby had started looking it up, out of curiosity, after they'd become involved in the whole Trollhunter thing. Maybe the legends about vampires were distorted too? But... Dracula...)
Add onto that Douxie's claim to be Merlin's apprentice. Merlin had never mentioned an apprentice beyond Morgana. So was that a lie? And if not...
Jim's thoughts broke down into a spiral. And he couldn't even move, or growl, or bash his fists against a wall to try to work through his frustration.
"Sunrise," Douxie said with a sigh, from across the hall. Jim could hear him push to his feet. He didn't dare peek, in case their ruse was working, but he could track the wizard's movements to his bed. Where he laid down with a huff.
"I hope your amulet knew what it was doing, Master," the wizard said quietly. "Because I sure don't."
The wizard tossed and turned for what had to be hours, while Jim waited. Trying to be patient.