Requiem
Disclaimer: Don't Own.
An Entry for Akiko's Fanfiction Challenge
Warnings: Deathfic.
Over and over he had been told the same thing.
There is nothing we can do for her.
"There has to be something we can do," he said, grinding his fists into his legs. "She's my sister . . . I'm not about to just let her . . . let her . . ."
He trailed off and swallowed as he stared at her bed, where she laid. She was still; all her normal energy had left. It was almost eerie, and it left him worried. She didn't move at all; nor did she smile. She just lay still on the bed, her eyes glassy. Her breathing was not labored or shallow yet; for that, he thanked whatever gods were looking in on him right now.
There was nothing he could do after all, he supposed. But damn it, he was her brother, and unlike all those ridiculous doctors, he was not going to leave her alone in her hour of need.
Her son would need to know, he thought, but no one even knew if he was even still alive. No one had seen him for months, and some had even gone as far as to call him "the lost one."
He'd come back, the man decided as he watched his sister, who slept with her eyes open and glazed. He'd be back any minute, and then she would recover, his very presence would give her the strength to overcome the illness.
He had to come back. He had to. Or she would die, and he might never even know.
He looked out the window and sighed.
She was still.
But she was breathing. For now, at least.
The mist in the air drifted outside the window, riding a small breeze over the island. It was oddly cold today, the fog wrapping around the isle and keeping the sunlight out. Ever since the waters had heated ever since the tidal wave, the isle's weather had been increasingly warm, but today was different.
Appropriate, he thought. She is dying, and the sun hides its face in sorrow over the loss of her life.
That was a selfish thought to have, he knew, but he didn't really care. She was his sister, and she meant the world to him. And she would pass from the world shortly.
He looked up.
She was looking at him, the light back in her eyes, and she was smiling.
"Tell Piers that I love him," she said.
"He's coming back," he said.
"Eventually," she replied, "but not now, and even I know that I will not be here much longer."
"You will be."
"I have a weak heart, brother. Even now, it slows. Not long from now, it will stop."
He wondered how she could be so calm about her own death.
"Just please . . . tell him that I loved him more than life itself," she said.
"I . . . I will." His voice was strangled.
She turned her face away, and he hid his own face as he wiped away his tears.
When he looked at her again, she had closed her eyes. He blinked, and her chest had stopped its rhythmic rising and falling.
And he wept.