Chapter Twenty-Eight: "I'm still here"

I'm here. I'm here. Why can't they hear me?

What am I doing? Let me explain.

A month ago, I started feeling exhausted, and it wasn't just from Fiyero being the ever-energetic lover that he is. I swear, if this ever goes away, I will never again complain about that. I was only kidding, Oz knows I was only kidding. Fiyero, always observant, noticed after some time (only after I fell into a wall, actually), and he put me on bed-rest immediately. I've come down with something, and they even had the doctor out here. But if I've already got what they believe I've got, the only thing they can do is give me a shot so it won't happen again if I live through this. I was completely mobile through all of that, and more – like the pain. My head's been spinning and I can't even take care of myself anymore, that's Fiyero's job, I guess.

The things I wish I could tell you, Fiyero.

Sometimes, when he's bathing me in oil, like he does twice daily, I can almost feel it. Almost. He seems to know where to pay "special attention". Well, he always has, hasn't he? For the first week, I talked to him and informed him of just the right way to touch me, to keep me clean, but now I can't even open my mouth. It's gotten that bad.

Darling, I'm trying to speak. I want you to hear. Why can't you hear? Please listen. But you can't, can you, when I can't even speak?

I refused to believe it was anything but a fever until two weeks ago, when he cried. It wasn't his tears that convinced me, of course, but my reaction. He'd climbed into bed and put his arms around me; I smiled lightly and closed my eyes. I assume he thought I was asleep, but I heard the choking sob from his throat. I wanted to move, to tell him that he was being a worry and an idiot, to push him away to remind him I was still there… but I couldn't. I could not gather the strength to even roll myself over. In a whisper, though I forced it as much as a shout, I insisted I was fine. He blinked, surprised I was awake, I guess, and then shook his head. "You're not fine, Fae. I wish you were as much as you tell me you are, but you aren't. Please get better."

How can I control if I get better, Fiyero? Tell me and I will. I can't stand this anymore. You take me outside, but I only see; I can't touch. You talk to me, comfort me, but what good is it when I can't respond? I resent you for telling Glinda not to come out here. I know you didn't want her to see me like this, but I miss her.

What if…? Oh, I won't start. I promised I wouldn't. I promised. I believe it was the last thing I was able to say, actually, before I became so weak that blinking pains me and sometimes I fear I may not push myself to breathe in my sleep.

Oh, stop looking at me like that, Yero my hero. I don't need those tears. You're scaring me, and you know how I hate being afraid.

But he can't hear me. I want to tell him that I'm sorry, that I didn't mean to fight him when he told me I was sick. I want to tell him that I love him, that I'm completely aware of the way he cares for me and loves me. It hurts the most when I can't speak because I need to speak. So much of life depends on words, and now I've lost them. Will I lose my life, too?

I didn't mean that, Yero, I swear. Oh, forget it! Why am I apologizing to a sleeping oaf?

I'm not supposed to think so morbidly. I promised him. But when it's late at night and he's not awake, my thoughts tend to wander. I can't seem to control when I sleep, so I'm often up at nights. But so is he, recently. He's got some way of waking every single hour, checking on me and falling back asleep. I believe he wants to make sure I'm still alive.

Yes, my hero, I am still alive. I can hear you breathe into my ear as I lie here with my back against your chest, your arms around my waist and that beautiful face buried in my not-so-beautiful hair. Sometimes when you pull away in the mornings, Yero, my hair is wet. Don't cry, my sweet love, please. It makes me nervous, almost on the brink of tears myself, and you know I don't cry often. But it's even worse when I cry, because I'm so numb that, though I expect pain, I'm already in too much of it to feel the burn down my cheeks.

I can't feel sensation and I can't speak. If I come out of this with just one of the two, I will be forever grateful. Oz forbid I come out of this mute, but if I do, I will find my ways of loving him, as long as I can feel. Without a voice, I can still kiss and love and play, as long as he would still love me. I can bear that much, if I have to. But give me something back. Even if I get better and I can't feel, I would still let him kiss and make love to me, and possibly I would pretend it feels good. He needs that much. I owe him that much. I never thought I'd need someone to take care of me the way he is now, and I never thought there'd be someone to do that even if I did. But my Yero is here, and I wish I could at least tell him I appreciate it.

Oh, Yero my hero, why is it that when my life becomes good, something falls apart? It only serves right that I should die once everything is happy. Will you love someone when I'm gone, Yero? Will you take care of yourself? You're still young, it's not too late for you.

But who said it was too late for me? I can do this, I swear. I can't die. Please, I can't die. Things were going so well. I had the only thing I've ever secretly desired and more. I was going to teach people out here not to be ignorant. I was going to do so much. I still have so much I can do. Why? Where is Lurline, or the Unnamed God now? Someone, anyone.

Don't blame yourself that I'm not getting better, love. I know you do. You're taking care of me better than anyone ever could. You never leave me alone, and in this time and place, I really don't mind. I'm scared now, love. You're all I have and… Nessa and Frex and Nanny don't even know I'm ill. Will they care if I die? Will you have the heart to tell them? How will they mourn? How will you?

Stop it. I have to stop this. Damn it, I promised Fiyero. I can't let this keep going like this. Am I crying? Oh, shit, I'm crying. And now he's awake. Please, don't let him look at me… but what else would he wake up for?

I see your hand on my forehead, on my wrist, but I don't feel it either time. I want to feel you. I want so much now. So much I may never have again. If I'd have known the last time I kissed you, the last time we made love… No… stop. Now you notice the tears. You touch a finger to the corners of my eyes and wipe them away as gently as you can. Don't bother being gentle, I can't feel more pain than I'm in.

He's turned on the lights now. I must try to focus my eyes. I want him to know I'm here. I want him to know I love him. I want him to know everything. I can barely follow him as he gets up and crosses to the other side of the bed. He kneels at my side, now. I always hated it when I was dominant.

You know I'm there, I know you do. Is that a smile? Is that fear? What's in your eyes? It's understanding. Thank you, that's all I need. I think I'll go back to sleep now.