I own nothing...still...but my imagination.
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Trillian watched Sands sleep peacefully for hours. She wasn't sure exactly how many. She began breathing in rhythm with him, to make sure that he kept living. Every breath he took seemed like a weight off her shoulders...
She awoke the next morning, and Sands was gone.
She stood up abruptly, looking around the room, and in the kitchen. He was nowhere to be found.
"Sands?" She called, sticking her head in every room of the house to make sure he hadn't wandered off and died somewhere.
She ran out onto the patio...and there he was, stretched out in a lawn chair. It was one of those that folded out lengthwise, giving a person enough room to...well...sleep. That was exactly what Sands was doing. He was curled up on the chair, the empty bottle of water next to him.
Trillian smiled. He found the water, she thought, satisfied.
Sands shifted a little, hearing footsteps near him. He sat up quickly.
"Who's there?" He asked cautiously, listening closely.
"It's Trillian." She said softly, sitting down on the chair near him.
"Oh." Sands said, relaxing a little.
"How did you get out here?" Trillian asked curiously, cocking her head.
"I opened doors until I felt outside air. It's easier than it looks. Or...sounds. I don't know. Whatever."
"Okay...how long did you sleep?" She asked.
"I'm not sure. Six hours. Maybe more, once I got outside."
"Oh." Trillian said, bobbing her head slightly.
It was awkward, trying to make conversation with someone that didn't want to talk. She couldn't blame him, because she wouldn't trust anyone if she went through what he did. She still had no idea what happened to him, or what he was capable of.
"Are you still thirsty? Or...hungry?" Trillian prompted, biting her lip.
Sands didn't say anything. Trillian sighed. She took it this way. Sands was self-reliant. He didn't want help from anyone, including her. It stung a little, but she told herself she could (and would) get over it.
Trillian stood once more and headed back into the kitchen, getting two more bottles of water from the fridge. Her sister Mona was a big believer in bottled water, mostly because of the poor water quality in Mexico.
She went back out on the backyard veranda, nudging Sands a little.
"Water." She said blankly. Sands held his hand out for it, and Trillian gave it to him. Good grief, she thought, this is going to be harder than I thought.
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"We should clean you up a little bit, man." Trillian said thoughtfully, looking at him with pity in her eyes.
Sands shook his head.
"I'm fine." He insisted.
"You've got blood all over you, don't tell me you're fine." Trillian said, taking his arm and practically dragging him into the house.
It was a good thing Sands couldn't see at this point, because Trillian thought he would gag at the sight of the powder-pink interior of the bathroom. She nearly choked, but suppressed it with a slight cough.
"What?" Sands asked, confused.
"It's nothing." Trillian said hastily, mentally cursing herself for her reaction.
Trillian sat Sands down on the edge of the tub and got him to stay there, although he protested quite a bit.
"I'm not a goddamn kid, you know, Jesus..." He muttered, brushing her away.
"Okay, Mr. Tough guy, take off your shirt. I'm going to see how much peroxide we'll need." She said, digging through the medicine cabinet.
Sands obeyed, grumbling about being treated like an infant.
Trillian pulled out the full bottle of hydrogen peroxide and an old, faded towel from under the sink. She opened the drawer and found a pair of tweezers (handy for any bullet removal, Trillian thought, flinching), and a hell of a lot of gauze.
Curse the world to hell, she thought irritably, sitting down next to him. It was bad, but he would live. It would hurt, but he would get over it.
She hoped.
(Okay, here's the deal. Does anyone have ANY CLUE how to write in italics?? Please Email me if you do! Thankies!
-J. Sands)
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Trillian watched Sands sleep peacefully for hours. She wasn't sure exactly how many. She began breathing in rhythm with him, to make sure that he kept living. Every breath he took seemed like a weight off her shoulders...
She awoke the next morning, and Sands was gone.
She stood up abruptly, looking around the room, and in the kitchen. He was nowhere to be found.
"Sands?" She called, sticking her head in every room of the house to make sure he hadn't wandered off and died somewhere.
She ran out onto the patio...and there he was, stretched out in a lawn chair. It was one of those that folded out lengthwise, giving a person enough room to...well...sleep. That was exactly what Sands was doing. He was curled up on the chair, the empty bottle of water next to him.
Trillian smiled. He found the water, she thought, satisfied.
Sands shifted a little, hearing footsteps near him. He sat up quickly.
"Who's there?" He asked cautiously, listening closely.
"It's Trillian." She said softly, sitting down on the chair near him.
"Oh." Sands said, relaxing a little.
"How did you get out here?" Trillian asked curiously, cocking her head.
"I opened doors until I felt outside air. It's easier than it looks. Or...sounds. I don't know. Whatever."
"Okay...how long did you sleep?" She asked.
"I'm not sure. Six hours. Maybe more, once I got outside."
"Oh." Trillian said, bobbing her head slightly.
It was awkward, trying to make conversation with someone that didn't want to talk. She couldn't blame him, because she wouldn't trust anyone if she went through what he did. She still had no idea what happened to him, or what he was capable of.
"Are you still thirsty? Or...hungry?" Trillian prompted, biting her lip.
Sands didn't say anything. Trillian sighed. She took it this way. Sands was self-reliant. He didn't want help from anyone, including her. It stung a little, but she told herself she could (and would) get over it.
Trillian stood once more and headed back into the kitchen, getting two more bottles of water from the fridge. Her sister Mona was a big believer in bottled water, mostly because of the poor water quality in Mexico.
She went back out on the backyard veranda, nudging Sands a little.
"Water." She said blankly. Sands held his hand out for it, and Trillian gave it to him. Good grief, she thought, this is going to be harder than I thought.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
"We should clean you up a little bit, man." Trillian said thoughtfully, looking at him with pity in her eyes.
Sands shook his head.
"I'm fine." He insisted.
"You've got blood all over you, don't tell me you're fine." Trillian said, taking his arm and practically dragging him into the house.
It was a good thing Sands couldn't see at this point, because Trillian thought he would gag at the sight of the powder-pink interior of the bathroom. She nearly choked, but suppressed it with a slight cough.
"What?" Sands asked, confused.
"It's nothing." Trillian said hastily, mentally cursing herself for her reaction.
Trillian sat Sands down on the edge of the tub and got him to stay there, although he protested quite a bit.
"I'm not a goddamn kid, you know, Jesus..." He muttered, brushing her away.
"Okay, Mr. Tough guy, take off your shirt. I'm going to see how much peroxide we'll need." She said, digging through the medicine cabinet.
Sands obeyed, grumbling about being treated like an infant.
Trillian pulled out the full bottle of hydrogen peroxide and an old, faded towel from under the sink. She opened the drawer and found a pair of tweezers (handy for any bullet removal, Trillian thought, flinching), and a hell of a lot of gauze.
Curse the world to hell, she thought irritably, sitting down next to him. It was bad, but he would live. It would hurt, but he would get over it.
She hoped.
(Okay, here's the deal. Does anyone have ANY CLUE how to write in italics?? Please Email me if you do! Thankies!
-J. Sands)