Disclaimer: I don't own any of these people. Irvine belongs to Square, and the young lady in question belongs to Warner. Don't sue me cause, since I am not making money off this, you won't get anything.
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Beyond Attachment
by: Laura Owen
Irvine was in that space between waking and sleeping when he first felt it. Something hot pressing against his chest. Unnaturally hot. He started awake reaching for a gun that wasn't there. Heart pounding, he looked down at his chest. He relaxed.
The only thing there was 'Mine's head.
Wait. Her head?
The heat had not retreated when he woke up.
He slid one hand under her rumpled bangs and pressed it to her forehead. It was burning hot. He never claimed to be a medic, but he knew enough to know a fever when he felt it. And this one was bad.
He shifted around, laying her head gently on the pillow that he vacated. He sat, cross-legged on the bed and took stock how sick she was. He didn't want to wake her up because she would just be miserable.
'Mine was one sick girl. Her usually mellow skin was completely white except for bright pink spots on her cheeks. Even her lips were white. He took one of her hands in his and it was clammy and cold. If it hadn't been for the shallow, raspy breaths that were rattling her chest, he would have thought she was dead.
She was shivering, but her red and white school t-shirt and shorts were soaked with sweat. She tossed around and groaned in her sleep. He tried to pull the covers up over her, but she would just kick them off again.
He wondered what he should do. As far as he knew, there was no doctor at The Park. He could not get She. She had meetings on weekdays and didn't come back to The Park until late in the afternoon. He knew that he had nothing except a razor and a box of condoms in his medicine cabinet.
'Mine was waking up. She was making painful little sounds in her throat and tears were beginning to stream down her face. He was starting to panic. If she woke up and he had no relief for her….
Someone turned a key in the lock on his bedroom door. He turned his head sharply, wondering who the fuck would have a key. The door opened quickly and a small woman in black walked in. She walked briskly to where 'Mine lay now awake and just as miserable as he knew she would be.
She tried to wiggle to ease some of the general discomfort that she was having, but she was too weak. All she could do was lay there and cry as the woman in black leaned over her and talked softly.
He heard the woman say that she was going to try to make 'Mine feel better. But first, 'Mine would have to tell her what was hurting the most. 'Mine managed to say something, and the woman in black understood. She smoothed 'Mine's sweaty hair back off her face and felt of her forehead.
The woman in black nodded and pulled out a wand. She wittered a word and a bottle appeared in her other hand. It was about half full of a gray-green liquid. The woman gave 'Mine a few drops of it and told her that it should start working soon. She sat the bottle on the table by the bed then turned to give him a glare.
"You'll have to make sure she gets her medicine every hour until her fever breaks."
He just nodded. The woman handed him a piece of paper with the dosage directions on it. She told him that she would have the Potions Master make some more because there was not nearly enough in the little bottle to see 'Mine through the worst of it. With that she left as quickly as she had come.
It took two days for 'Mine's fever to break.
During those two days, he slept very little and ate even less. Ginny had come by just after the woman in black had left. She had told him that she would leave a message for She that 'Mine was sick. He had done as the directions said until a little after dark, when She showed up.
She was really great. Even if She had kicked him out of his own room for several hours with instructions to go sleep somewhere. He had left, but he didn't sleep. He just pulled a chair up against the wall next to his door and waited.
Little Ginny had gone in at one point carrying a small pile of 'Mine's clothes. She had come back out later with the one's that 'Mine had soaked all to hell in sweat.
And still, he sat. And he worried.
When She had finally come out, She was irritated to see him in the hall. Well, She acted irritated at least. He could tell She was really impressed that he had stayed up. She'd told him that it was really late and that 'Mine was sleeping.
He'd crept back in to his dark room and found that she was resting fitfully. He'd curled up next to her, and she relaxed a little. He caught catnaps between the times that he drugged up his girl.
Yep. HIS girl.
As the hours passed, he could feel her getting cooler to his touch. The Potions Master came up with more gray-green stuff and told him that it was working.
He liked the Potions Master. Even though the older man was a real pain, he liked him anyway.
The next day, 'Mine fell in and out of fitful sleep. When she was awake, she still cried. She was so frustrated by being sick.
She came back the next night and kicked him out again. By now, he had rings under his eyes and looked like rancid death, warmed over in the microwave. He had taken a shower and changed, but then took up his post outside his bedroom door again.
Everything had been the same as the night before. Ginny brought fresh pajamas for 'Mine and took the old ones away. He'd cat napped all night.
Sometime between five and six, her fever broke and she slipped off into peace again. Her color came back and she snuggled next to him. He had fallen asleep too, and it had been her stirring that woke him up around noon.
She was sitting up in bed, looking really gross. He had told her as much, but she only said that she wanted a bath. He'd gotten up and gone to run the bathwater for her. When he came back, she was making her way across the bedroom very slowly.
He caught her around her waist and steadied her. He got her into the bathroom and asked if she still needed him.
She turned crimson to her hairline and said no.
Nonetheless, he left the door open an inch while he changed the sheets (a simple task involving thinking about having clean, crispy ones.) That done, he checked on 'Mine.
She looked very relaxed in a foam of bubbles.
He told her that he was going to go get her something to eat. She requested something light and not too spicy. He didn't bother to get his hat for the trip to the kitchen. He hadn't worn it in two days anyway.
When he got back to his room a half hour later, she still wasn't out of the tub. He sat the tray carrying her chicken and stars soup down on his desk and walked to the bathroom again.
'Mine was asleep with her head on the back lip of the tub. The bubbles were all but gone and the water was cold.
He kissed her forehead and told her she was turning into a raisin. She woke up and he pulled the plug on the tub.
He'd never seen anybody so embarrassed before.
She told him, yelling as much as a raw throat would allow, to get the hell out. First foul word he had heard from her ever. He left, stifling a laugh.
Her modesty amused him immensely.
Especially since she spent six out of seven nights a week in bed with him. He smirked, thinking about how they had never managed to do much more than kiss- a LOT.
If anything more ever happened, it would be her call though.
He was content with her just being there.
She stumbled out of the bathroom wearing one of his shirts. But he had never seen it before. It had to be his, though. It had the SeeD logo on the front.
He asked her where she found it as he put her back in bed and handed her the bowl of soup.
"Conjured something that you might wear." Simple enough reply. It satisfied him.
But that shirt was huge. It hung to her knees.
She told him that was the good thing about Conjuring things. She could control the size.
'Mine ate slowly. Her hair kept trying to fall into the bowl, so he sat down behind her and braided her hair as neatly as he could. As he pulled the band out of his hair to wrap it around the end of hers, she commented on the unusual talent.
"Just something I picked up in school." Who he had picked it up from, he would never tell. He was not about to tell her any more about all the girls in his past. She already knew too much.
She didn't ask who. She didn't want to know. She didn't care.
'Mine finished half the bowl of soup and claimed she was full. He helped her snuggle into the sheets and pulled the coarse, woven blanket up to her neck. He planted a kiss on her forehead and clicked off the light next to her head. He jammed his hat on his head and went for a walk.
The sky outside the doors in the Reading Hall was tinged with dark red. He stood there for a long time, just staring at the dying rays of light through the sheers on the glass. He was so tired, but he was restless. Something was nagging at the back of his mind.
He shoved it back every time it tried to be heard. To kill a few more hours, he decided to count bedrooms. He walked to the basement to start.
Seven behind The Pool.
Ten more between The Pool and The Store Rooms.
None on the First Floor.
Four residents rooms on the Second Floor.
She's suite that had two more. (What did she use the second one for, anyway?)
Seven more tucked away in shadowy corners of the Second Floor.
Up the stairs to The Clutch where there were six rooms on two floors.
Off the second floor of The Clutch, (technically the Fourth Floor of The Park) there were twelve more.
AND several little window alcoves that would be perfect for romantic moments away from the rest of the house.
Back down a short flight of stairs and there were four more resident rooms, just over She's suite.
And once again, in shadowy corners, there were six more.
Back up, and there were fifteen more.
Did this place ever end?
"Yes." She had managed to find him, in the middle of the night, in a seemingly unused part of The Park.
It ends at a wall right ahead, She had pointed out. And he had missed a few rooms along the way. He'd only found 46 of the 100 residents rooms. Most were vacant, She said.
She didn't ask him what he was doing there. No one ever asked him why he was anywhere. It was like they already knew. She patted his back and told him to go to bed.
But he couldn't sleep.
You will when you get back, She told him. And then she turned and walked back towards the Writing Office.
As he wound his way back down stairs, around halls, and through public rooms he marveled at how natural She always looked here.
In the middle of elegance that made him feel like a bull in a fucking china shop. In the middle of more rampant spending of money than he had ever dreamed of. Where the God forsaken ridge of the roof was decorated with She's initials in solid gold and the walls of every room were hung with silk. She, in her t-shirts, jeans, and socks with the little pink seams, looked like She belonged.
She radiated elegance that rivaled The Park. And She never stayed a night here.
He got back to his room and changed in the dark. He checked on 'Mine before he got into bed next to her. She was sleeping like a baby, only a few wheezes lingering with her stuffy nose. He accidentally woke her up when he bent down to press a kiss on her cheek.
She made a tiny confused noise as she sat up and squinted at him. He shushed her and in a moment of sudden clarity, he took off his hat and situated it on her head. She smiled weakly and laid back down, hat and all.
As she curled around him, only one word flashed through his mind, making him feel considerable better.
Written to make me feel better because I am very sick with a nasty cold.
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