She was the one to hold me
The night the sky fell down
What was I thinking when
The world didn't end
Why didn't I know
What I know now
--from Crazy For This Girl by Evan and Jaron
Gabe left for a few minutes to change out of her nurse's uniform, complaining that it was too stiff and needed to be broken in. Micah felt a million sarcastic jokes fill his head at that opportunity, but said nothing. When she returned, the girl wore a plain pair of jeans, a faded tie-dye shirt, and a mismatched pair of sneakers. He noted that one was red and the other decorated in stars and stripes, a weird representation of the American flag.
"I hate that thing," Gabe muttered as she collapsed back into the chair. "I swear, they use enough starch on that uniform to make a pasta dinner." Micah stared blankly back at her, a raven-colored brow raised. The girl's lips twitched in a slightly irritated smirk. "Y'know, because pasta's high in starch? Carbohydrates?"
"...that was supposed to be amusing?" he said dimly, then blinked like an idiot. Micah repressed the urge to snicker as he blinked again. "Oh. Ha! Ha! Ha!" Gabe rolled her eyes at him and propped up her mismatched feet on a chair.
"You're a regular Jerry Seinfield, you know that?" Micah smirked and did a half-hearted bow.
"Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you."
"Your mouth, Mr. Wise-Ass, is going to get you into a lot of trouble." Gabe pulled herself out of the chair and ambled over to check his chart.
"Hey," he protested, "my wise ass has gotten me through quite a lot!"
"I'm sure it has," the girl murmured, and held out a hand expectantly. "Your wrist, Mr. Comedian." Micah let out a groan.
"Do I have to?"
"I need to check your pulse. Unless, of course, you'd rather have Pruitt do it." Gabe grinned involuntarily. "Just imagine, Pruitt with her wrinkly old hands--"
"All right!" he cried, sticking out his arm in surrender. "No more! I'll talk!" The girl chuckled and grabbed his arm, fingers gently pressing against his wrist. Micah felt a chill sweep through him, almost the same as when she looked at him carefully. Except she wasn't looking at him right now, she was checking her watch. He shook his head a little as the chill passed. It was silly, the way he was acting. Paranoid. Gabe's fingers shifted positions a few times before she let go and sighed.
"You love being difficult, don't you? I can't feel your pulse. Tilt your head up for me." Micah cocked a skeptical brow.
"Why?"
"Because," she said pertly, "if I don't check your pulse, Pruitt will. Now tilt your head up." He rolled his eyes for what felt the thirtieth time that day, but did as she said. Gabe placed two fingers carefully on his neck, looking back at her watch. The same odd chill crept through him, sweeping from his neck and down to his spine. It suddenly hit him how vulnerable this position was; anyone with their head tilted back like this exposed his throat to the world, to any potential dangers and mishaps. Why, a poor sap with his neck displayed like this could have it cut
(cut with a scythe)
at any moment. In fact, Gabe could just shove her fingers with a simple flick of the wrist and he would be at her mercy, oxygen pent up inside his mouth and not reaching his lungs.
(You're a fool, a stupid idiotic weak little fool--)
He scowled at his own sadistic thoughts and waited for Gabe to finish.
(You're being silly. Gabe would never do a thing like that, especially not here in a crowded hospital--)
Another thought interrupted his own. A quiet little voice from the depths of his mind that just happened to seize this opportunity as a chance to make its opinion known.
(...and how do you know that?...)
"All right, looks good." Gabe glanced away from her watch and at Micah. "Goodness, what's wrong with you? You act like I've got a knife to your throat or something."
(You don't know the half of it, woman.)
She smirked, a sideways little smile, and tickled him briefly under the chin.
"Y'need to lighten up a bit, bud," Gabe quipped. Micah snorted out of his thoughts and pulled away.
"What's your problem?" he cried, leaning against the pillow like he had been backed into a corner. Gabe blinked at this reaction as she pulled her hand away.
"Hey, don't get all worked up. I was just joking." She walked towards the counter and picked up her clipboard, scribbling more notes onto it. "Well well well. That's quite interesting. I should make a note of that."
"What is?" asked Micah sulkily, crossing his arms over his chest. Gabe smirked to herself as she jotted down something.
"Mr. Ice-and-Iron is ticklish."
"What?!" he cried, shooting forward like someone had kicked him in the rump. "I-- I am not!"
"Y'are so," she replied calmly. Gabe paused, contemplating the next thing to write, then moved pen over paper again. Micah sputtered in the bed.
"I am not!"
"Y'are so-oo." Her complacence was infuriating. The boy growled and beat the sheets lightly with his fists.
"I am NOT!" he insisted. Gabe stopped writing and set aside the clipboard, tucking the pen lazily behind her ear.
"All right." She shrugged a little. "Whatever you say." Micah scowled at her.
"Don't humor me," he snapped. "It's the truth, and you know it!"
"Yessir. It's the truth." The girl put on a solemn face and held up a hand, the other going over her heart. "So help me God."
"Stop making fun of me!" Micah howled. She couldn't take it anymore; Gabe collapsed back into a chair, lost in a giggling fit. He glared at her as she laughed, but Micah realized something that scared him.
(Oh no. No no no.)
There was a sudden click in his mind as it registered.
(I actually like this girl. Oh God. No no no.)
He shook his head a little as if that movement would shoo away the feeling, but it didn't do any good.
(That can't be right. No. No no no no--)
"What's the matter, O Ye of the Pale and Sun-Deprived Disposition?" Gabe had gotten over her fit of laughter and was now leaning forward, hands on her knees. Micah blinked, then scowled at her.
"Nothing," he snapped, jerking his head back in a snotty sort of nod. The girl just rolled her eyes.
"Oh, c'mon. You're not sore at me over that little joke, are you?"
"...what joke? It wasn't funny."
"Oh, but I certainly found it entertaining!" Gabe said emphatically. Micah just darkened his scowl, but she reached forward and gave him a poke in the stomach. He squeaked -- quite loudly -- and the girl found this incredibly amusing. Gabe nearly fell out of her chair this time, holding her own stomach as she laughed. Micah let out a frustrated breath and rubbed at his cheeks, which had turned an interesting shade of pink.
(Oh, God. What just happened here?)
Overcoming her laughter, Gabe looked up and grinned at him. This time, she didn't look through him, but at him. This only disturbed him more.
(Just keep quiet. She doesn't have to know.)
That soft voice from the depths of his mind spoke up again; calmly, almost as if it were lacing its fingers in an expression of complacence.
(And she won't. Not if you keep your mouth shut.)
He had no idea where that voice had come from, but it seemed to have good advice at times.
(And you will keep your mouth shut, you stupid little mongrel.)
The voice scared him this time, but now Gabe was trying to poke him in the side in an effort to provoke more squeals. Micah left this macabre little voice on its own and returned to fighting his own battle.
Silence. Silence in the cornfield. He moved along quietly, quickly, trying to lose the monster that was on his tail. And then, without warning, there it was . Right in front of his face. The monster.
His father.
It was a great, looming face, terrifying and unyielding. It opened its mouth and began to shout at him.
"Pray! Get down on your knees and pray, you sinful little bastard!" He tried to drop to his knees, but there was something stopping him. He couldn't comply with the monster's orders. And of course, that made the monster angry, and so the monster hit him. The shout turned into a screech. "Dirty, filthy, conniving little sinner! Get down on your knees and pray to God for forgiveness!" He cried out against the blows that rained down on him like fire, but the monster wouldn't stop. "Evil little bastard! Child of the Devil! Son of Satan! Ask for forgiveness, pray for it, you dirty little worm! Pray for the forgiveness you don't deserve!" He gasped for breath and tried to remember a prayer, any prayer.
"O-our father, who a-a-art in Heaven, h-h-hallowed be thy n-n-n--" But the monster kept beating him, his father the monster, and he couldn't remember the rest. He choked on a sob. "Hallowed be thy n-n--"
"Name, you idiot!" screamed his father. "Idiot, imbecile, filthy malicious little mongrel! Pray for forgiveness! Pray for Daddy! Pray! PRAY FOR FORGIVENESS! DO IT!"
Micah screamed, long and loud and wavering, and shot forward in bed. He landed right in two outstretched, surprised arms; ones that closed around him after a moment's hesitation.
"Sh, sh," whispered a voice soothingly. Gabe. He buried his face into her shoulder without even realizing what he was doing.
"O-o-our father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name," he mumbled quickly, voice muffled by the tie-dye shirt he was leaning into. "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven." Micah let out a sob and tightened his grip around Gabe, feeling his own body rack with shudders. "I remembered, I remembered the prayer---"
"Sh, quiet now," murmured Gabe as she slid a hand up behind his neck. "It's all right, everything's all right."
"I need to pray, I need to pray..." Micah tried to catch his breath, but the sobs were stealing it from him. Gabe stroked the back of his neck tenderly.
"All right, we can pray," she whispered, beginning to gently rock him back and forth. Gabe lowered her mouth to his ear and finished the prayer for him. "Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil." She paused, then pressed a light kiss to the lobe of his ear. "Amen." Micah was dimly surprised, but he was still overcoming the horrifying images in the dream. He couldn't even remember falling asleep.
"A-amen," he echoed, choking back another sob. Gabe kept rocking him gently as her fingers stroked the back of his neck.
"Everything's going to be fine," she murmured, breath warm in his ear. "I promise you. It was just a dream. Everything's going to be just fine."
(You're acting like an infant. Straighten up and be a man.)
Micah tried, he really did, but terrified shudders kept sweeping through him and he couldn't stop the flow of tears.
"It was him," he whimpered, grasping folds of her shirt for comfort. "It was him, he was there, he was real, and he kept screaming at me-- telling me to pray, but I couldn't remember how, and he--"
"Hush," Gabe said quietly, "You're not there now. You're here. He's gone, and you're all right."
"No, no, no..." Micah squeezed his eyes shut at the horrible reality of it all. "I thought so, I thought he was gone, but he'll never be gone, not ever..." She didn't reply with anything this time, just tightened her embrace and continued to rock him gently back and forth. They stayed like this for a good ten minutes before Micah finally stopped shaking and the horror had passed.
He pulled away slowly, suddenly and fully aware that this was his second nervous breakdown since he had woken up in this hospital.
"I--" Micah began, then coughed to steady his voice. "I'm all right now. Really." He cracked a forced little grin. "Just another one of my crazy dreams."
"Mm hm." Gabe slid her arms from him and crossed them over her chest. Micah swallowed nervously, rubbing at his forehead.
"No, really, just an insane-- Well, haven't you ever had a dream like that?" A blonde eyebrow was raised at this.
"Not one where I wake up screaming a prayer." Gabe leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees. "Are you sure you're all right? Because that was a really awful dream that you had, apparently, and I think you're still a little--"
"I'm fine," he reassured her stiffly as he pushed away hair from his eyes. There was a pause before blue eyes squinted at him
(oh no oh no right through me)
and the girl put a palm to his face.
"No you're not," she murmured, hand moving from his forehead to his cheek. "You feel really warm, and you're still trembling a little." Gabe watched him for a moment
(she's looking right through you, right down to the very last lie)
as her thumb began gently stroking his cheek.
"You don't have to say you're fine when you're not. There's no judgement here, Micah-- if you hurt, tell me you hurt." He stared back in what he hoped was a stoic manner, but he could feel that there were still tears escaping his eyes.
"Listen to me," he said quietly, disregarding the tears slipping down his cheeks. "I. Am. Just. Fi--" Gabe interrupted this lie with a kiss
(!!!)
that was sudden and totally unexpected. She pulled away just as quickly as she had closed in, eyes wide. Apparently, she hadn't been expecting that either. Micah blinked in surprise. "...Gabe?" She licked her lips slowly, staring back with wide blue eyes.
"What?" Before he could answer, Gabe jerked backwards and shook her head, pressing her palms to her brow. "No, no, I can't do this, I can't, I can't--" She looked up, still shaking her head to emphasize the point that she could not do this, thank you very much. "Micah, I can't, I'll get fired-- do you know what they do when they find nurses and patients...?"
"...fire them?" he echoed dimly, blinking. Gabe nodded emphatically.
"Yes, that's exactly what they do. And without a job, there's no money for school, and without money for school, I can't get out of this godforsaken place-- oh God, Micah, I can't do this--"
(do it do it now DO IT NOW)
Micah interrupted her this time, pressing his lips to hers in a clumsy attempt to stop her from talking. It lasted for one long, glorious moment before they parted. Gabe blinked at him.
"...A kiss is a lovely technique designed by nature to stop speech when words seem superfluous," she said distantly. Micah frowned.
"What?"
"Just something I heard somewhere," Gabe said with a shake of her head, then let out a nervous little chuckle. "Ohboy."
"What?" he repeated. The girl smiled weakly at him.
"I don't think it's as easy to give you up as I thought." Micah shrugged.
"So don't give me up."
(Is this you talking, O Great And Powerful Emotionless One?)
Gabe grinned and slid her hand into his gently.
"You're going to make things a lot more complicated around here. I just know it." Micah smirked, though his eyes lingered on their hands.
"Complication. My specialty."