She wished she could hear the waves. Maybe if she could hear them, their gentle back and forth would lull her back to sleep.
What time was it? There was no clock visible from her infirmary bed, nor did she have a watch - Dr. Beckett even considered that kind of screen to be too much stimulus for her addled brains. Lifting her head from the pillow, she peered out the window. It had to be just before dawn. No longer was the night sky that deep, rich velvet of midnight; instead, a faint tinge of lavender blue glowed along the edge of the horizon.
She was reminded of nights when she would get sick as a young child. Exhausted from illness, all she would want was sleep, but when darkness would eventually fall, she could never make it through the whole night. Rest was all she craved, and yet she always found herself longing for the morning. How she yearned for the end of this night, for the end of her sojourn in the infirmary, for the end of all the nights in this time and place.
Erratic creaking from across the room where Janus was supposedly sleeping caught her attention. Yet again, he was thrashing against his restraints, and she couldn't say she blamed him for it. After a moment, the creaking stopped, only to be replaced by quiet mumbling in Ancient. Eva could hear very little of it and understood even less. She did catch, however, one word he kept repeating over and over.
"Domos. Domos meu. Domos."
Home.
"Lantea."
Just like the creaking, the speaking ultimately stopped and was replaced by the sound of quiet sobbing.
Dawn couldn't come soon enough.
A/N: Been a while, huh? I've got the tiniest of all chapters for you. Hopefully there will be more to follow, but I don't want to make any promises I can't keep. (I do have about 35,000 words in the vault, waiting to be edited.)
Thanks for sticking with it! And welcome to anyone new.