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my_strappyshoes
Jun. 24th, 2008 05:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elementof_riskHe'd fallen into an exhausted sleep in a hotel room as close to the hospital as he could get. It meant nothing, really, when he couldn't see her, but he was close, and somehow...he couldn't bear to be farther than that. The phone had jarred him awake, but when he saw the number, he was alert, immediately, sickened and terrified that the call would be that she had died, that he'd lost her, that they had all been too late. When, instead, it was to tell him Sydney and Vaughn had left and he could see her, he almost couldn't process it. He said all the right things, things that let Julian know Rachel had sent for him, that it wasn't a trap, and at that moment he hardly would have cared if it had been.
Stumbling over his words, he told her father to tell her he would be there soon. He paused only for a shower, making sure any sign of the activities of the past two days were absent, scrubbing clean, then sliding into khakis and a shirt and jacket, sunglasses in place to try and hide his bloodshot eyes, though he knew he'd have to take them off when he got to her. He stopped for coffee--a quad shot--and a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers, and got a stern look from a nurse for the quickness of his pace.
He slowed in her hall, fear once again eating up his insides. Her father knew, which was enough that he didn't want to face, but he didn't want her to look, to see the things he'd done, to pull back from him in fear, horror. It felt written on him, and though he didn't regret it, the sensation was like an ill-fitting coat that tugged and said he'd crossed into something new, a different phase of existence, and he wasn't sure what that was, or what it meant.
Pausing in the doorway, his eyes swept over her, searching out all the little signs and hurts, and half wishing he'd taken longer with Nara, but mostly feeling relieved that she was there, alive, and had sent for him. He was almost afraid to step through the door, frozen there, fingers curled tight around the coffee and tighter around the flowers, and half expecting to wake up at any moment.
Stumbling over his words, he told her father to tell her he would be there soon. He paused only for a shower, making sure any sign of the activities of the past two days were absent, scrubbing clean, then sliding into khakis and a shirt and jacket, sunglasses in place to try and hide his bloodshot eyes, though he knew he'd have to take them off when he got to her. He stopped for coffee--a quad shot--and a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers, and got a stern look from a nurse for the quickness of his pace.
He slowed in her hall, fear once again eating up his insides. Her father knew, which was enough that he didn't want to face, but he didn't want her to look, to see the things he'd done, to pull back from him in fear, horror. It felt written on him, and though he didn't regret it, the sensation was like an ill-fitting coat that tugged and said he'd crossed into something new, a different phase of existence, and he wasn't sure what that was, or what it meant.
Pausing in the doorway, his eyes swept over her, searching out all the little signs and hurts, and half wishing he'd taken longer with Nara, but mostly feeling relieved that she was there, alive, and had sent for him. He was almost afraid to step through the door, frozen there, fingers curled tight around the coffee and tighter around the flowers, and half expecting to wake up at any moment.
