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~TLD

Part Fifteen: Entombed

A fierce shaking woke her. She peeled her eyelids open against the crushing weight of fatigue.

It was dark. More than half of the candles she'd lit had already melted into oblivion or blown out in the drafty mausoleum.

She squinted her eyes, trying to figure out where the shaking was coming from. She looked down at Joel.

He was paler than a corpse, his lips clearly blue despite the faint light. He was drenched. Sweat lined his forehead and blood soaked his shirt and motorcycle jacket.

It was slight, but as she watched, she thought he appeared to be shaking. She reached out a hand to touch his cheek.

She raised her hand, and as it moved into focus, she realized with a start, that the shaking - was her.

Now that she thought about, she was freezing. She couldn't keep her teeth from chattering and the shivering made her strained and battered body scream in pain.

She looked down at her shirt. She was drenched in Joel's blood.

The sight of all that blood jolted her to her senses. How much blood had he lost? She thought. Does blood loss hurt the undead? She tried to wrap her mind around it. Obviously, he wasn't a pile of ash, so… did that mean he was going to be alright?

She leaned in close to his face. It was faint, but she could feel his breath on her cheek. Well, that's a good sign at least.

She sighed, not sure what to do next. With a groan, she forced her wet hoodie over her head, and stripped down to her only still-dry layer, a thin, black cami she was fiercely glad she'd randomly put on that morning.

Being careful of Joel's bandaged neck, she removed his jacket and shirt too. I wonder if vampires get hypothermia… she mused. Well, at least this way he'll be dry and warm. That is, if he manages to survive.

She picked a few of the drier articles of clothing and arranged them under Joel's back so he wouldn't be lying on the stone floor, before wrapping her arms around him and burrowing her face into his chest. Slightly warmer already, she drifted back to sleep.

As sleep claimed her, a foggy thought drifted through her mind - a thought she'd never, ever had before. Had she been awake enough, the thought would have chilled her to the bone, but as it was, she only barely noticed its alienness.

…we're gonna be ok…

Wait. We?

And then she was out.

Joel floated slowly out of the warm blur of unconsciousness and awoke painfully into reality. Stabbing pains radiated outward from his neck and his entire body felt like he'd been hit by a train – one of those trains with the cow-kicker on the front – twice. He tried to shut down his sense of touch in an effort to maintain consciousness. The less pain his body could feel, or, more aptly, the less pain his brain was aware of, the less likely it was to go back into shock to protect itself. He reached out with his other senses instead.

Opening his eyes was a chore, but the smells reaching him were strange and unfamiliar, and so finally, self-preservation won out over the pain.

It was dark, but Joel's eyes were exceptionally keen in darkness, and so he saw the tomb in stark detail. The roof was pretty tall, stone, and angular. He felt the stone on his back and, and despite the overwhelming desire to remain still, began to sit up to investigate. As he moved, he suddenly noticed the warm, soft presence on his chest, and he stopped.

Propping his head slightly, he looked down upon her. Her raven hair appeared almost blue to Joel in the surrounding darkness, and her pale face was nearly luminescent.

Absorbed, he lost his hold over his sense of touch. But as the waves of pain from his injuries reached him, he also felt the softness of Wednesday's face on his chest, the tight embrace of her arm around his ribs, and the gentle breeze of her breath against his skin.

He smiled. And then winced as a new pain sliced through him.

Worth it, he thought to himself.

But even as he thought it, he knew he couldn't stand a few more stabs of pain like the last one, or he'd pass out again.

He couldn't see outside, but he knew instinctively that night had fallen some time ago, and that they really shouldn't linger where Lilith or her minions could drop in at any time. He really couldn't afford to pass out again.

He knew what he needed to jump-start the healing process.

He just didn't know where he was going to get it.

Wednesday was leaning over him. Her hair hung around her face like a blue-black shroud, hiding half her face in shadow. The other half was sickly lit in the dying light from a flickering candle over her head. As he stared, he realized her lips were moving, and with a shock of horror, he realized he couldn't hear her. He tried to speak, to tell her he couldn't hear her, to shout for help, but he had no voice. He reached out for her, brought a shaking hand to her face. He cupped her cheek with his hand.

She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. Despite it all, he felt a warm swelling in his chest. Without thinking, he started to sit up, needing to be closer to her, to take her in his arms.

He'd risen maybe an inch when her arm shot out, pushing down on his shoulder, preventing him from moving. His brow furrowed and he looked up at her questioningly. Suddenly, her eyes shot open, but instead of the onyx glow he was used to, her eyes glowed a sickening red. Her raven hair morphed into the billowy blond curls that haunted his nightmares, and her face curled around a sweetly sinister smile.

"Shh," she whispered. And with a sudden lurch, she pounced.

Joel shot up with a strangled cry, shaking with fury, fear, and cold, drenched in sweat.

"Shh!!" Wednesday half-shouted, half-whispered. "Joel! Stop shouting! Are you trying to get us killed??"

Joel's eyes finally found focus and he saw Wednesday sitting next to him on the stone floor. She watched him, carefully, as though he might start shouting again. For a moment, they sat staring at each other.

But then, with a lightning fast movement, Joel lifted Wednesday off the floor and pinned her to the opposite wall by her throat, her feet kicking a foot from the floor.

"Wha-?" she gasped before she lost breath. She scratched and dug her nails into Joel's hands, but his grip was unbreakable. And then he was shouting again.

"What the Hell is going on here? What have you done with Wednesday? Don't fuck with me, I swear to God, Lilith, I'll rip your fucking head off right now." Joel's eyes were red in his fury and his body shook with rage.

"Joe-" Wednesday choked out. Her face was turning blue. "Stop." Her wide eyes were fluttering as her body flirted with unconsciousness. Harnessing all of her willpower, she managed to choke out, "Joel, you idiot, it's me, Wednesda-"

Something about her tone jolted him to his senses and he dropped her with a shock. She curled up into a ball on the ground, coughing and sputtering. When she'd finally caught her breath, she looked up and shot Joel a look of disgust. "What the Hell? Is that the thanks I get for saving your sorry ass?"

Joel just stared at his own hands, as if unable to believe they were capable of such disgrace. Finally, he looked up at her. Wednesday noted his gaze was strange, as if he was waiting for her to suddenly sprout horns or something. She stared back, waiting.

Finally he sank to his knees on the floor. He bowed his head into his hands so low his forehead nearly touched the floor.

Out of the silence, he whispered. "If I pass out again, you need to get out of here. Get back to your house. Go without me. It's not safe for you here."

She started to protest, "Joel-" before he interrupted her.

"Trust me," he said, his voice low and empty. "Just promise me. Ok?"

His voice grew weaker on each word. When she didn't answer, he prompted her again, in a whisper, "Ok?"

Her voice wasn't much louder. "Ok."

And then the darkness claimed him.