Laura wasn't sure how much time had passed. An hour, maybe. Long enough for Carson's shallow and tired breathing to grow deeper and more relaxed. She'd finally closed her eyes when he started snoring; a light, breathy snore that never kept her awake, just reminded her that he was there and with her.
She opened her eyes again when he started muttering. Mostly in English, a smattering of Gaelic, and a handful of Latin words that she assumed were medical terms or pieces of prayers, and that was only when the words were the least bit intelligible. The words bothered her the most. Carson only spoke in his sleep when he was deeply troubled. The death tonight must've really done a number on him for his mind to be racing this much, even in sleep. Sometimes she could distract him. Answer his mutterings with a silly little question of her own. Like, one night she asked if he was sure he wanted to paint the infirmary a glittery purple or another night when she said yes, but what would Rodney do with a chicken suit afterwards? If he wanted to be distracted, he'd chuckle and answer her question groggily, his accent even thicker in sleep, wrap an arm around her and doze back off. If he didn't want to be distracted, if his mind really needed that time in whatever deep sleep haze he was in, her questions would go unanswered.
She preferred when he answered. A deep laugh and words rolling in the dark in his thick, sleepy brogue… It didn't matter what he said, anything said in that voice sent a slight shiver down her spine. His words, his voice, affected her in ways that no man's had before. Sometimes when she was feeling ill, or just couldn't sleep, Carson would retrieve one of his medical journals from the stack on the small desk he kept in the room and read to her in an attempt to bore her into sleep. What she never told him was that she'd get lost in his words, the tones of his voice, the light laugh he'd give when he reached a conclusion he obviously didn't agree with, his rolling r's, vowels that slurred into the next, the way his voice would deepen as he got quieter and the world would slow down until it was just his voice filling up the room with sounds that would leave her breathless if she would let them. He'd hear the slight catch in her breathing and set down the journal in his lap. "Do you want me to continue?" he'd ask, smiling as he leaned over to place a soft kiss on her lips. She always said yes, closed her eyes, and let her thoughts get lost in his voice until she fell asleep.
Maybe she'd question him tonight, just to see if he wanted the distraction. "But how many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?" she asked quietly.
Carson smiled slightly. "Three," he finally answered before turning on his side, wrapping an arm around her, and falling back to sleep. In silence.