[ "brutal" is about the best way to describe the all-out war that swallowed up emma's neighborhood. casualties left and right, blood and lead and fire — but of all the moments when emma had been concerned for the outcome, she realizes she'd never been quite so terrified as when she felt faraday.
bullets. pain. and a damn explosion.
that had probably been the most agonizing of it all, because thanks to being completely clear of the blast, there's no force to actually knock her unconscious to avoid that level of excruciating damage. it's bad enough through the waves of their link that emma nearly does pass right out, but she pulls through it, forces back the pain because one thought is far more powerful than the ache in her body:
he's still alive.
she knows she would have felt it if he'd been gone, knows there would have been something severing inside of her to be wiped away by the death of this infuriating man — but no, she still feels him. pulsing and faint, but there.
that's why when it's finally over, she spends every ounce of energy she has left looking for faraday. ambulances have finally been called, and paramedics are rushing around, carting off survivors while chisolm tries to explain everything to the police — state-level, fortunately, not the godforsaken department that had left her friends and neighbors out to dry.
she finds faraday before the EMTs, and barely there though he is, she still stays by his side, her hand clasping his own, shouting for help until he can be properly carried off and taken to the hospital. even then, she's more interested in following, despite the medics asking her where she's hurt, if she needs treatment, but she just shrugs them off, only stopping her insistence to accompany faraday when chisolm sets a hand on her shoulder, levels her with a look.
she can't do anything for him now. she'll just have to wait — and, in the meantime, talk to the police.
that's the least appealing part of it all, but it needs to be done — to explain all the bodies and destruction. there'll be an investigation, that much is certain, but emma doesn't even care right now.
all she's concerned with is faraday's life (and part of her just hates that).
having faraday in the hospital is also just as conflicting for her. she finds that the longer she spends far from him (usually staying outside of her neighborhood, because hardly anything is livable until they rebuild it all), the more uncomfortable she feels in general. like her skin doesn't fit quite right. or her muscles ache just enough that she can't settle down. or something in her chest is just hollow.
it's not a good feeling, and she notices it only grows the farther she is, physically, from faraday. or if it's not the need for closeness, she's feeling the leftover flickers of pain when his medication starts to run low, or the prick of a needle on her own arm (phantom pains, that she's always inclined to rub away, to try and ignore). there's work to do in rose creek, instead, and as she's one of the still able-bodied folks left behind, she's eager to lend a hand with the construction where she can. her home isn't back up to livable standards, but...soon, she hopes it will be. there's a familiarity of it that she misses desperately.
however, she still can't ignore the way she feels separated from faraday. when she comes to the hospital for visits, it lessens. at first, all she can do was sit outside of his room, because she can't work up the wherewithal and go in to look at him (because that would involve acknowledging that she'd very specifically come to visit him, and that she was not, in fact, completely determined to continue ignoring him).
after that, she only shows up long enough to leave small things — a deck of cards, his carefully-recovered hat. it's brief, a little uncomfortable, but emma just hightails it right out, because she still doesn't know what she's doing or why she's really come to see him, but— she's there nonetheless.
the first time she stays for any real length of time, after a couple weeks of her inability to be properly around him, she notices that he's fast asleep in the hospital bed. rather than turning around and coming back later, she just (quietly) draws a chair up to the side of his bed. leaning forward, she rests her arms gently on the blankets, before laying her head on her elbow. being near him makes her feel...not sleepy, but finally relaxed enough that sleeping isn't a bad option — and she doesn't want to wake him, after all (especially because then she might be inclined to bolt, if actually confronted by the reality of being there to see him). ]
[ At some point during the battle, he and Emma separated again. He shoved her ahead as Bogue's men found them, his injury slowing him down. Shouted at her to keep going, that he'd be fine, and he was, for a time. Well enough to hold on to their connection like a lifeline, tracking Emma as she fought. But then, he spotted reinforcements arriving at the mouth of the neighborhood, fresh men with fresh guns and wild looks on their faces. An extra assault wave the neighborhood couldn't handle. They had just taken out Bogue's first round of mercenaries, or at least dealt with the majority of them, and these new troops would spell disaster if they spilled into the streets, meant failure and defeat.
So Faraday took a gamble. Grabbed a makeshift bomb that hadn't gone off during their initial onslaught, and ran in. Took a handful of bullets for his troubles, but ended up before the lot of them, who chuckled darkly in amusement as he fell to his knees, bleeding and dying before them.
And then he smiled, chucked the bomb up into the air and shot it as it fell. Had a moment to appreciate the looks of horror and realization on their faces as they scrambled.
Had a moment to think of Emma – a brief flash in his mind, a cold burn from the mark of his arm. Had a moment to think, I'm sorry, and then—
Nothing.
Then, something. A whole lot of fucking something. Agony interrupted by drug-fueled hazes and darkness. A whole lot of fucking darkness. And then, a whole lot of fucking pain, too. He spent so much time ricocheting back and forth between oblivion and terrible awareness that he hardly knew which way was up, hardly knew his own name or what was happening. All he knew was that he was in pain, that he felt wrong, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Sometimes, it gets better. Brief spurts, for maybe an hour or two (though he's hardly in a state to keep track of time; everything feels like an eternity), where he feels whole, and sleep comes a little more easily. Then, in even briefer spurts which coincided with small gifts left at his bedside table. He blinked at them, whenever he managed to wrench his eyes open, wondered where they came from, before blackness took him again.
Chisolm visits, now and again. On Faraday's first day of actual consciousness (and not just one of those pain-filled, handful of moments, where he sobbed and screamed and begged for someone to make it all go away), Sam filled him in on the details of the fight. Gingerly rested a hand on Faraday's shoulder and gave him a sad sort of smile. Told him he did good, even if that was about the stupidest plan Chisolm had ever seen enacted. Faraday should have laughed, except he had little energy for it. Just twitched up the corner of his mouth in a shadow of his smile. Licked his lips and whispered,
"How's Emma?"
A few weeks removed from the battle, and he's still a goddamn mess. But that's to be expected, given all that happened. Today is the first time he manages to sleep. Not quite peaceful, but not the all-consuming blackness of his usual bouts of unconsciousness. It's a fitful sort of rest for quite some time, until it... isn't. Like a slow creeping warmth that coasts over him, settles him, and he sighs in relief, even as he sleeps. Just a quiet, content exhale that seems to drain all the tension from his body.
It's the most restful sleep he's gotten since he arrived here, and considering how few and far between his bouts of awareness were, that was saying quite a bit. He wakes by degrees after a few hours, rising slowly out of the mud. The drugs do well to separate him from the pain, but they also make everything fuzzy, leave him tired and aching. He's vaguely aware that the mattress has dipped a bit, and he looks over.
If he wasn't so fucking high, he might feel mortified by how comforting that flash of red is, how it loosens the vice around his chest that's been squeezing the breath from him, ever since he was rushed away in an ambulance. The corner of his mouth curls up ever so slightly as he blinks back the sleep still clinging to him.
His throat works for a few seconds, and he licks his lips. There's a softness in his gaze that he never had before, but thanks to the cocktail keeping the reality of his injuries at bay, he wears it freely now. Then, in a hoarse whisper, ]
... Hey.
will they deal with anything ever??? who k n o w s
[ she's not really asleep, but she's floating in the soft, soothing comfort of being so close to faraday (a realization she's not in any hurry to admit). it's like being near him finally fills the gaps she's been so achingly aware of since that mark slithered into her skin, and it's only these moments that leave her settled.
it's new. it's strange. it's like home.
the quiet crackle of his voice makes her open her eyes, and she doesn't jerk upright like she might have weeks ago. she's too at ease, and she just turns her head, chin resting on her arm to meet the gentleness of his gaze with her own.
the vicious heat has died down, flickers of her usual fire at the edges of her eyes, but she doesn't glare daggers like before.
...lord, when did she stop feeling sick just at the sight of him? ]
...evenin'.
[ quiet, tentative. she looks near skittish, but not ready to bolt (yet).
it's the first she's really seen of him being awake, and there's something about looking in his eyes now that makes her chest flutter, her mark gently tingling with warmth and...something pleasant she can't put her finger on. ]
Nice to see you awake.
Edited (WHEN U DON'T REALIZE U LEFT HALF UR REPLY IN NOTEPAD) 2016-10-30 00:36 (UTC)
[ He makes a small noise of assent at the back of his throat. His voice is still little more than a croak when he speaks again, but there's a touch of good humor threading through it. ]
Don't happen too often, these days.
[ He spends more time asleep than not, he knows, consciousness coming and going in brief snippets. It's for the best, considering what a mess he is, but it leaves him disoriented, made worse by whatever they're giving him to stave off the pain.
Without realizing it, he shifts a little, his hand inching just a little closer, his body leaning toward her. A few weeks ago, he would've been mortified if he realized. Now, he hardly cares, feeling more at ease than he has in ages. Relaxed. Calm. Whole. Nearly enough to make him drift back under, but part of him struggles to keep his head above the waters of sleep. If he had mind enough, he'd realize he's keeping himself awake because a part of him missed her, something deep and visceral that he'd have difficulty understanding even if he were at his best.
The mark sends quiet, soothing ripple through him, cool like the taste of mint, and he lets out a soft breath of contentment. His eyes slip shut as he rides out the wave. ]
[ since she's seen him truly awake. since they've exchanged words. she's seen him unconscious far more than she has otherwise these past weeks, but...she knows why. the damage done to his body in the battle is extensive, and that's hard to come back from (but she's just glad that he has). ]
...you look awful.
[ but it's not said unkindly or with intent to be rude. there's even the faintest twitch in the corner of her lips, just something soft and barely there — but a look undoubtedly new to faraday. she hasn't had much cause to smile since matthew's death and the ordeal with bogue — and then far after with faraday's extended hospital stay.
but now?
she's nearly smiling.
nearly.
she doesn't move away as he shifts closer, and if anything, it makes her body practically sing as their marks come closer together; it simply adds to the sense of completion ringing through her. ]
[ His laugh rattles in his chest at the observation – hardly voiced; little more than a few huffs of breath. ]
Find that difficult to b'lieve.
[ He opens an eye, almost like a lazy wink, and a shadow of his usual, roguish smile flickers across his lips. ]
'M always handsome.
[ It's only then that he notices that ghost of a smile on her own lips, and warmth flickers in his chest. That feeling of contentment, again, of satisfaction – calming at the best of times, but leaves him nearly boneless, now. Both eyes open to better appreciate it, to practically bask in it. ]
Doin' alright?
[ Because Chisolm had been vague. Told Faraday she had been busy, which made sense. Homes and lives to rebuild in the wake of Bogue's defeat. Told Faraday, too, that she had dropped by with some frequency – and when that flicker of confusion, of disappointment drifted across Faraday's face, reassured him he had been sleeping every time.
"You're not exactly rivetin' company right now," Chisolm had said with that wry little smile of his. Faraday had cast him a flat look but conceded the point. ]
[ her tone isn't exactly one of blind agreement, but has a light edge of what might almost be considered friendly ribbing. again, something a touch different from the verbal knives she'd had for him before, the intense levels of disdain with every word.
but here? less so. much, much less.
she cocks an eyebrow at him, a little surprised by the question. ]
Don't I look it?
[ she props her chin up on her arms to look at faraday a bit more fully. ]
But I'm a far sight better than you, at least. I'm not the one in this bed.
[ and it still worries her that he is, that he's had to be here for so long. he gave far more than he needed to in that fight, but because of him and his stupid, reckless, brave damn antics, her neighborhood came out the other side safe.
[ Another flicker of a smile at her teasing – better than pity, he thinks. He'd hate to think how he'd feel or act if she offered that. And besides, he knows he's a mess – bruised and broken, with more patched up holes in him than an old plaster wall.
He's not his best and won't be for a while. Better than the alternative, he supposes. ]
Ain't so bad.
[ He says it mildly, head tilting slightly toward the IV feeding him drugs to dull the pain. ]
Hard to complain, anyway.
Means I don't gotta hammer nothin', either.
[ His shoulders rise a little, as if in a shrug. ]
I'm no good at construction.
[ In reference to the efforts to rebuild her neighborhood, though chances were terribly high he would have never stuck around that long in the first place. If it hadn't been for the gutshot, if it hadn't been for taking out the cavalry that arrived not too long after that, he may not have lingered.
He'd made a promise, after all. "The second you pay me, I'm outta there." ]
[ that actually makes emma sit up, a touch of confusion in her eyes, uncertainty prickling along their link. ]
You'd be stayin' to help with all of that?
[ she hadn't intended to mention it, at least not while he's still subsisting off of pain medicine in the hospital. or...ever? it's a thought that's bothered her since the end of the fight, a great source of conflict because he said he'd leave, and she'd told him to go.
but even just thinking about the reality of legitimate separation, moreso than just the distance from where she's staying and the hospital, makes that ache start right back up again. ]
[ The question gives him pause, and though he's not so terribly sharp right now, he feels that strange sensation through their connection, something slightly chilly and tentative that he can't quite get the shape of. He frowns, considering his answer.
The argument on that first night still sits in his head, but with everything that's happened, with everything still happening, his answer doesn't come as easily anymore. It's a long while before he answers, though the silence is interspersed with a few false starts that go unvoiced.
[ this definitely isn't the ideal time or place for him to be making important decisions, and even emma still has no idea what she wants. she doesn't like the idea of having something so abruptly thrust onto her like the mark has been, but it's undeniable how much it's affected her. she can't hide from the way she's drawn to this strange man, as much as she wants and has actively tried to, and she just settles so completely being near him that it makes it even harder to pull away. ]
...you know you haven't got any kind of obligation to keep you here.
[ because she doesn't want to be that. she may not know what she does want, but she can sure as hell figure out what she refuses to become.
she won't let this mark turn into an expectation, just as she's insisted from the start. ]
[ He nods a little, as much as he can manage, at least, sluggish as he is. Because he agrees with that much – he doesn't want someone bound to him if they don't want to be. He's not in the habit of forcing anyone to do anything they find exceptionally unpleasant, himself especially.
But this— this is different. Before, this thing between them was a terrible shock, an earthquake that uprooted his every foundation. Now that it's settled, now that they've leaped through fire together and felt how that bond had helped and hindered—
He doesn't know anymore.
He knows he feels more settled when she's nearby. Calm. Whole. And when they're apart, he feels antsy and heavy and uncomfortable in his own skin. And maybe with time he could learn to cope, but the idea of living with that discomfort is enough to make him cringe even now.
The machine tracking his heart rate picks up a bit with his agitation, quiet and insistent, though he hardly notices. He swallows that bitter taste in his mouth, frowns up at the ceiling. ]
What about you?
[ because his mind may not be made up, but hers very well could be. Emma Cullen is a determined woman. Focused. And there was a high likelihood nothing has swayed her opinion. He had felt uncertainty only moments ago, but not hope. Not happiness. ]
[ "uncertain" is a good word for how emma still feels about it all. she's usually so quick to know exactly what she wants, and she's absolutely one to make up her mind and stick to her guns, but...this is uncharted territory for her. she's never had to deal with emotions that she couldn't just rein right in, control when she needs to, and— move beyond.
it's awful hard to move on from it all with the constant reminders and discomfort, and then— this. this perfect wholeness that wraps itself around her as soon as she's anywhere near faraday.
where before she'd been faced with her own anger and feelings of displacement and betrayal (because faraday is by no means matthew, and that still niggles somewhere in the back of her mind), she's now been confronted with unease and almost fear.
what if they truly aren't compatible? what if their lives and who they are is so wildly different that there's no way to reconcile it between them?
what if the universe made a mistake?
she has no concrete answers, and that scares her. but what she does know is that faraday makes her feel things she didn't even think possible, and what they'd gone through together in rose creek truly is significant to her — something defining and powerful. she knows that all of that is important.
and that makes faraday important.
she presses a hand over the tingling mark on her arm, squeezing just a touch. ]
...I can't say as I'm very fond of that particular idea anymore.
[ so...no? she thinks she really has settled heartily on the side of wanting him to stay.
she just hasn't worked out the logistics or the capacity she wants him there. ]
And maybe they shouldn't be having this conversation now. Not while his mind drifts, hovering just on the edge of sleep. Or maybe it's best, with the drugs and exhaustion making him honest, making him set aside his usual hang-ups and landmines.
Doesn't matter, really, since they are having it now. And he doesn't quite know any better, anyway. Anything to make Emma stay longer, anything to keep feeling these ripples of contentment and completion. ]
Dunno that I can stay in one spot.
[ Which is true enough. Faraday tended to drift. Never stayed anywhere long enough to grow roots – and that's been the truth of his life since he was a young man, fresh out of high school. He'll settle up somewhere, stick around for a few months before a sharp pang of wanderlust hits him – or maybe that's just the fear of getting complacent? Either way, that feeling hits him, and he packs up his sparse belongings, hops onto the next bus out of there. ]
[ one she doesn't have an answer for — not right now. her house isn't anywhere near livable yet, but...what if it's isn't truly salvageable? the damage may be so thorough that she'd have to completely start over, and...she can't afford that.
possibly the worst realization of being faced with the rebuilds is that it's all expensive — and what usable funds she has are fairly limited. ]
...but I may also find myself in need of something new soon enough.
[ it would break her heart to leave behind the house she and matthew built together. the time and energy and love that had gone into making it their home is not so easily disregarded, but she also can't guarantee she'll be able to afford repairing all that bogue and his men did in the process of trying to run them out of town.
a flicker of melancholy grips her, but it's something she refuses to betray on her face, instead continuing to study faraday. ]
I think that all depends on whatever becomes of...this.
[ she gestures between the two of them, then gently settles forward again, carefully rearranging herself to return her arms to his bed. it's comfortable to lean forward like this, and it sets off even more of that sweet, soothing warmth when she's close again.
[ That contentment ripples through him again, and in spite of it all, he settles a little more comfortably, lets out another quiet breath. His fingers twitch toward her of their own accord as she leans against the mattress – not quite touching. She's a bit too far away to make contact without stretching. His head tips back a little, and the words fall from his lips before he can think on them: ]
Feels nice when you're close.
[ Something he would've been too ashamed to voice, were he not doped to the gills, but it seems so easy to express now. It's as much an answer to her unspoken question as it is an admission – he finds himself begrudgingly appreciating the benefits, even if he's still terrified by the weight of it. His eyes slip shut, and he enjoys that warmth as much as he can – a feeling so alien to him until recently. ]
Don't— don't much like when you're gone.
Doesn't feel— [ he struggles for the word for a few seconds and settles on ] —right.
[ the admission out of him is actually fairly startling to emma — even more so because of how much she agrees. nothing feels right when she's far from him, and it's nearly impossible to ignore, on top of that. it's only when she's here with him, within proper reach that she feels any real sort of whole. ]
It surely doesn't.
[ her voice is soft, a little tentative about her honesty, but...she can't really deny it (not without outright lying).
hesitating, she has to steel herself before she reaches out. the fact that he isn't looking at her, that his eyes are closed, makes it a little easier for her to lightly rest her hand on his, and it— makes her stop. it's different from the fleeting contact they'd had in the middle of the fight (which in itself had been intense and with so much pain between them, hadn't fully allowed anything else to seep through). it's a rush of— wholeness and sensation and she feels like she's been wrapped in the softest, warmest blanket imaginable.
her breathing catches, and all she can manage is a soft exhale: ]
[ The touch is like a spark falling on a fuse, something that floods him with contentment near immediately. It washes through him, feels like the scattered pieces of him finally snap together after ages of staring, of not quite fitting snugly. The sensation leaves him boneless, drags a quiet, involuntary noise from the back of his throat – little more than a soft, ]
Nnh.
[ His fingers twitch against the sheets before his hand turns up to hold hers, though his grip isn’t quite as sure or quite as strong. She could easily pull away if she wanted, though he hopes she doesn’t. His mind feels sharper, even as their bond dulls the edges of his discomfort, as his focus hones in on this, on this single point of contact.
God, it’s good. How have they kept themselves from enjoying this all this time? ]
[ all thoughts of pulling away have momentarily left emma's mind. with his hand gently cradling her own, she shifts her grip, laces their fingers together, and, oh, that's even better. the full, intentional contact is so dramatically different from anything she's experienced in her whole life, and it just makes her realize that this?
this is why the concept of soulmates has survived through the ages.
feeling so whole and complete and near perfect is a different kind of newness. it's like everything had fallen away in the world until it's just the two of them.
and strangely, she isn't bothered that it's the two of them. she doesn't feel self-conscious about sharing this intimacy with faraday, of all people (though perhaps that's just buried under these sensations?). ]
This is...
[ actually, she doesn't even have words for this. ]
[ Even if he were in a better state, Faraday doubts he’d be able to express the feeling, either. His vocabulary had always left something to be desired. All he knows for the moment is that this is good. Better than that, actually – near blissful.
Knowing how this feels, he’s not sure if he has strength enough to give it up.
So even if Emma doesn’t complete her thought, Faraday still nods his agreement all the same. Offers a vague sort of, ]
Yeah...
[ Though that leaves them no closer to naming whatever this sensation is.
His fingers twitch against hers – would grow tighter, if he had the energy for it, but this, for now. This is enough. He forces his eyes open, even as that peace tries to draw him back into sleep, and the corner of his mouth twitches up a little. ]
[ in fact, it's good. she feels so intensely relaxed in a way she's never managed in the past, even with matthew — which is indicative of exactly how much faraday affects her.
she brushes her thumb gently across the back of his hand, relishing in the prickles of sensation in her skin, in her mark, and just— in her. it's like a part of her has finally meshed with something she's missed, and that something...seems to be the man laying opposite her in the hospital bed.
through the link, she can feel how sleep pulls at him, how exhausted (but clearly relaxed) his body is. ]
You can go back to sleep, if you need it. I'll stay put.
[ if he wants her to. if he doesn't, she could come back at another time (as much as she doesn't want to break this connection). ]
[ His expression tightens for a second as she speaks – for a second, he worries she means to leave, at least until she offers to stay beside him. He lets out a breath after that, gives the barest of nods. ]
Please.
[ Little more than a whisper, but with an earnestness he’s rarely (if ever) used before today. Another barely-there squeeze of his hand against hers, as that sense of comfort drifts over him, warm and thick like blankets on a winter evening.
Exhaustion isn’t new – not since he’s been lying in this bed, hooked up to all manner of machines. Now, at least, he has that sense of ease, of serenity to smooth away the grating edge of it, to soften the pain that slips past the effects of the painkillers. Sleep quietly claims him again, and he relaxes, body turning toward her ever so slightly as he drifts off. ]
[ emma promised she'd stay, and she does. she even drifts off herself, if only for a short nap, because she honestly hasn't felt so relaxed and at-ease since the whole trouble with bogue started. he quiets her nerves and uncertainties with the warmth of his presence in their link , just like the contact does, and that's meaningful enough to let her rest.
(because she certainly needs it.)
unfortunately, it's only a couple hours later before a nurse is coming to check in, to let her know that the window for visitors is nearly closed. emma's about to protest, but then she quickly realizes that, in the eyes of the hospital, it isn't her place to stay. she isn't faraday's wife, isn't family at all, so she inevitably has to step out.
...as much as she doesn't want to.
reluctantly (oh-so reluctantly), she gets to her feet, tentatively prying her fingers away from faraday. she doesn't want to disturb him, what with how badly he needs the rest, but she does pause for a moment.
with his eyes still closed, she's bold enough to lean over—
—and press the softest of kisses to his forehead. ]
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emma is useless at feelings and this is a Problem
bullets. pain. and a damn explosion.
that had probably been the most agonizing of it all, because thanks to being completely clear of the blast, there's no force to actually knock her unconscious to avoid that level of excruciating damage. it's bad enough through the waves of their link that emma nearly does pass right out, but she pulls through it, forces back the pain because one thought is far more powerful than the ache in her body:
he's still alive.
she knows she would have felt it if he'd been gone, knows there would have been something severing inside of her to be wiped away by the death of this infuriating man — but no, she still feels him. pulsing and faint, but there.
that's why when it's finally over, she spends every ounce of energy she has left looking for faraday. ambulances have finally been called, and paramedics are rushing around, carting off survivors while chisolm tries to explain everything to the police — state-level, fortunately, not the godforsaken department that had left her friends and neighbors out to dry.
she finds faraday before the EMTs, and barely there though he is, she still stays by his side, her hand clasping his own, shouting for help until he can be properly carried off and taken to the hospital. even then, she's more interested in following, despite the medics asking her where she's hurt, if she needs treatment, but she just shrugs them off, only stopping her insistence to accompany faraday when chisolm sets a hand on her shoulder, levels her with a look.
she can't do anything for him now. she'll just have to wait — and, in the meantime, talk to the police.
that's the least appealing part of it all, but it needs to be done — to explain all the bodies and destruction. there'll be an investigation, that much is certain, but emma doesn't even care right now.
all she's concerned with is faraday's life (and part of her just hates that).
having faraday in the hospital is also just as conflicting for her. she finds that the longer she spends far from him (usually staying outside of her neighborhood, because hardly anything is livable until they rebuild it all), the more uncomfortable she feels in general. like her skin doesn't fit quite right. or her muscles ache just enough that she can't settle down. or something in her chest is just hollow.
it's not a good feeling, and she notices it only grows the farther she is, physically, from faraday. or if it's not the need for closeness, she's feeling the leftover flickers of pain when his medication starts to run low, or the prick of a needle on her own arm (phantom pains, that she's always inclined to rub away, to try and ignore). there's work to do in rose creek, instead, and as she's one of the still able-bodied folks left behind, she's eager to lend a hand with the construction where she can. her home isn't back up to livable standards, but...soon, she hopes it will be. there's a familiarity of it that she misses desperately.
however, she still can't ignore the way she feels separated from faraday. when she comes to the hospital for visits, it lessens. at first, all she can do was sit outside of his room, because she can't work up the wherewithal and go in to look at him (because that would involve acknowledging that she'd very specifically come to visit him, and that she was not, in fact, completely determined to continue ignoring him).
after that, she only shows up long enough to leave small things — a deck of cards, his carefully-recovered hat. it's brief, a little uncomfortable, but emma just hightails it right out, because she still doesn't know what she's doing or why she's really come to see him, but— she's there nonetheless.
the first time she stays for any real length of time, after a couple weeks of her inability to be properly around him, she notices that he's fast asleep in the hospital bed. rather than turning around and coming back later, she just (quietly) draws a chair up to the side of his bed. leaning forward, she rests her arms gently on the blankets, before laying her head on her elbow. being near him makes her feel...not sleepy, but finally relaxed enough that sleeping isn't a bad option — and she doesn't want to wake him, after all (especially because then she might be inclined to bolt, if actually confronted by the reality of being there to see him). ]
everything is a Problem with these children
So Faraday took a gamble. Grabbed a makeshift bomb that hadn't gone off during their initial onslaught, and ran in. Took a handful of bullets for his troubles, but ended up before the lot of them, who chuckled darkly in amusement as he fell to his knees, bleeding and dying before them.
And then he smiled, chucked the bomb up into the air and shot it as it fell. Had a moment to appreciate the looks of horror and realization on their faces as they scrambled.
Had a moment to think of Emma – a brief flash in his mind, a cold burn from the mark of his arm. Had a moment to think, I'm sorry, and then—
Nothing.
Then, something. A whole lot of fucking something. Agony interrupted by drug-fueled hazes and darkness. A whole lot of fucking darkness. And then, a whole lot of fucking pain, too. He spent so much time ricocheting back and forth between oblivion and terrible awareness that he hardly knew which way was up, hardly knew his own name or what was happening. All he knew was that he was in pain, that he felt wrong, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Sometimes, it gets better. Brief spurts, for maybe an hour or two (though he's hardly in a state to keep track of time; everything feels like an eternity), where he feels whole, and sleep comes a little more easily. Then, in even briefer spurts which coincided with small gifts left at his bedside table. He blinked at them, whenever he managed to wrench his eyes open, wondered where they came from, before blackness took him again.
Chisolm visits, now and again. On Faraday's first day of actual consciousness (and not just one of those pain-filled, handful of moments, where he sobbed and screamed and begged for someone to make it all go away), Sam filled him in on the details of the fight. Gingerly rested a hand on Faraday's shoulder and gave him a sad sort of smile. Told him he did good, even if that was about the stupidest plan Chisolm had ever seen enacted. Faraday should have laughed, except he had little energy for it. Just twitched up the corner of his mouth in a shadow of his smile. Licked his lips and whispered,
"How's Emma?"
A few weeks removed from the battle, and he's still a goddamn mess. But that's to be expected, given all that happened. Today is the first time he manages to sleep. Not quite peaceful, but not the all-consuming blackness of his usual bouts of unconsciousness. It's a fitful sort of rest for quite some time, until it... isn't. Like a slow creeping warmth that coasts over him, settles him, and he sighs in relief, even as he sleeps. Just a quiet, content exhale that seems to drain all the tension from his body.
It's the most restful sleep he's gotten since he arrived here, and considering how few and far between his bouts of awareness were, that was saying quite a bit. He wakes by degrees after a few hours, rising slowly out of the mud. The drugs do well to separate him from the pain, but they also make everything fuzzy, leave him tired and aching. He's vaguely aware that the mattress has dipped a bit, and he looks over.
If he wasn't so fucking high, he might feel mortified by how comforting that flash of red is, how it loosens the vice around his chest that's been squeezing the breath from him, ever since he was rushed away in an ambulance. The corner of his mouth curls up ever so slightly as he blinks back the sleep still clinging to him.
His throat works for a few seconds, and he licks his lips. There's a softness in his gaze that he never had before, but thanks to the cocktail keeping the reality of his injuries at bay, he wears it freely now. Then, in a hoarse whisper, ]
... Hey.
will they deal with anything ever??? who k n o w s
it's new. it's strange. it's like home.
the quiet crackle of his voice makes her open her eyes, and she doesn't jerk upright like she might have weeks ago. she's too at ease, and she just turns her head, chin resting on her arm to meet the gentleness of his gaze with her own.
the vicious heat has died down, flickers of her usual fire at the edges of her eyes, but she doesn't glare daggers like before.
...lord, when did she stop feeling sick just at the sight of him? ]
...evenin'.
[ quiet, tentative. she looks near skittish, but not ready to bolt (yet).
it's the first she's really seen of him being awake, and there's something about looking in his eyes now that makes her chest flutter, her mark gently tingling with warmth and...something pleasant she can't put her finger on. ]
Nice to see you awake.
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Don't happen too often, these days.
[ He spends more time asleep than not, he knows, consciousness coming and going in brief snippets. It's for the best, considering what a mess he is, but it leaves him disoriented, made worse by whatever they're giving him to stave off the pain.
Without realizing it, he shifts a little, his hand inching just a little closer, his body leaning toward her. A few weeks ago, he would've been mortified if he realized. Now, he hardly cares, feeling more at ease than he has in ages. Relaxed. Calm. Whole. Nearly enough to make him drift back under, but part of him struggles to keep his head above the waters of sleep. If he had mind enough, he'd realize he's keeping himself awake because a part of him missed her, something deep and visceral that he'd have difficulty understanding even if he were at his best.
The mark sends quiet, soothing ripple through him, cool like the taste of mint, and he lets out a soft breath of contentment. His eyes slip shut as he rides out the wave. ]
Been a while.
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[ since she's seen him truly awake. since they've exchanged words. she's seen him unconscious far more than she has otherwise these past weeks, but...she knows why. the damage done to his body in the battle is extensive, and that's hard to come back from (but she's just glad that he has). ]
...you look awful.
[ but it's not said unkindly or with intent to be rude. there's even the faintest twitch in the corner of her lips, just something soft and barely there — but a look undoubtedly new to faraday. she hasn't had much cause to smile since matthew's death and the ordeal with bogue — and then far after with faraday's extended hospital stay.
but now?
she's nearly smiling.
nearly.
she doesn't move away as he shifts closer, and if anything, it makes her body practically sing as their marks come closer together; it simply adds to the sense of completion ringing through her. ]
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Find that difficult to b'lieve.
[ He opens an eye, almost like a lazy wink, and a shadow of his usual, roguish smile flickers across his lips. ]
'M always handsome.
[ It's only then that he notices that ghost of a smile on her own lips, and warmth flickers in his chest. That feeling of contentment, again, of satisfaction – calming at the best of times, but leaves him nearly boneless, now. Both eyes open to better appreciate it, to practically bask in it. ]
Doin' alright?
[ Because Chisolm had been vague. Told Faraday she had been busy, which made sense. Homes and lives to rebuild in the wake of Bogue's defeat. Told Faraday, too, that she had dropped by with some frequency – and when that flicker of confusion, of disappointment drifted across Faraday's face, reassured him he had been sleeping every time.
"You're not exactly rivetin' company right now," Chisolm had said with that wry little smile of his. Faraday had cast him a flat look but conceded the point. ]
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[ her tone isn't exactly one of blind agreement, but has a light edge of what might almost be considered friendly ribbing. again, something a touch different from the verbal knives she'd had for him before, the intense levels of disdain with every word.
but here? less so. much, much less.
she cocks an eyebrow at him, a little surprised by the question. ]
Don't I look it?
[ she props her chin up on her arms to look at faraday a bit more fully. ]
But I'm a far sight better than you, at least. I'm not the one in this bed.
[ and it still worries her that he is, that he's had to be here for so long. he gave far more than he needed to in that fight, but because of him and his stupid, reckless, brave damn antics, her neighborhood came out the other side safe.
and that means a lot to her. ]
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He's not his best and won't be for a while. Better than the alternative, he supposes. ]
Ain't so bad.
[ He says it mildly, head tilting slightly toward the IV feeding him drugs to dull the pain. ]
Hard to complain, anyway.
Means I don't gotta hammer nothin', either.
[ His shoulders rise a little, as if in a shrug. ]
I'm no good at construction.
[ In reference to the efforts to rebuild her neighborhood, though chances were terribly high he would have never stuck around that long in the first place. If it hadn't been for the gutshot, if it hadn't been for taking out the cavalry that arrived not too long after that, he may not have lingered.
He'd made a promise, after all. "The second you pay me, I'm outta there." ]
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You'd be stayin' to help with all of that?
[ she hadn't intended to mention it, at least not while he's still subsisting off of pain medicine in the hospital. or...ever? it's a thought that's bothered her since the end of the fight, a great source of conflict because he said he'd leave, and she'd told him to go.
but even just thinking about the reality of legitimate separation, moreso than just the distance from where she's staying and the hospital, makes that ache start right back up again. ]
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The argument on that first night still sits in his head, but with everything that's happened, with everything still happening, his answer doesn't come as easily anymore. It's a long while before he answers, though the silence is interspersed with a few false starts that go unvoiced.
At length, his gaze flicks away, and he says, ]
Dunno.
[ because it's the only answer he has. ]
Hadn't thought it out.
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[ this definitely isn't the ideal time or place for him to be making important decisions, and even emma still has no idea what she wants. she doesn't like the idea of having something so abruptly thrust onto her like the mark has been, but it's undeniable how much it's affected her. she can't hide from the way she's drawn to this strange man, as much as she wants and has actively tried to, and she just settles so completely being near him that it makes it even harder to pull away. ]
...you know you haven't got any kind of obligation to keep you here.
[ because she doesn't want to be that. she may not know what she does want, but she can sure as hell figure out what she refuses to become.
she won't let this mark turn into an expectation, just as she's insisted from the start. ]
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But this— this is different. Before, this thing between them was a terrible shock, an earthquake that uprooted his every foundation. Now that it's settled, now that they've leaped through fire together and felt how that bond had helped and hindered—
He doesn't know anymore.
He knows he feels more settled when she's nearby. Calm. Whole. And when they're apart, he feels antsy and heavy and uncomfortable in his own skin. And maybe with time he could learn to cope, but the idea of living with that discomfort is enough to make him cringe even now.
The machine tracking his heart rate picks up a bit with his agitation, quiet and insistent, though he hardly notices. He swallows that bitter taste in his mouth, frowns up at the ceiling. ]
What about you?
[ because his mind may not be made up, but hers very well could be. Emma Cullen is a determined woman. Focused. And there was a high likelihood nothing has swayed her opinion. He had felt uncertainty only moments ago, but not hope. Not happiness. ]
You want me gone?
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it's awful hard to move on from it all with the constant reminders and discomfort, and then— this. this perfect wholeness that wraps itself around her as soon as she's anywhere near faraday.
where before she'd been faced with her own anger and feelings of displacement and betrayal (because faraday is by no means matthew, and that still niggles somewhere in the back of her mind), she's now been confronted with unease and almost fear.
what if they truly aren't compatible? what if their lives and who they are is so wildly different that there's no way to reconcile it between them?
what if the universe made a mistake?
she has no concrete answers, and that scares her. but what she does know is that faraday makes her feel things she didn't even think possible, and what they'd gone through together in rose creek truly is significant to her — something defining and powerful. she knows that all of that is important.
and that makes faraday important.
she presses a hand over the tingling mark on her arm, squeezing just a touch. ]
...I can't say as I'm very fond of that particular idea anymore.
[ so...no? she thinks she really has settled heartily on the side of wanting him to stay.
she just hasn't worked out the logistics or the capacity she wants him there. ]
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And maybe they shouldn't be having this conversation now. Not while his mind drifts, hovering just on the edge of sleep. Or maybe it's best, with the drugs and exhaustion making him honest, making him set aside his usual hang-ups and landmines.
Doesn't matter, really, since they are having it now. And he doesn't quite know any better, anyway. Anything to make Emma stay longer, anything to keep feeling these ripples of contentment and completion. ]
Dunno that I can stay in one spot.
[ Which is true enough. Faraday tended to drift. Never stayed anywhere long enough to grow roots – and that's been the truth of his life since he was a young man, fresh out of high school. He'll settle up somewhere, stick around for a few months before a sharp pang of wanderlust hits him – or maybe that's just the fear of getting complacent? Either way, that feeling hits him, and he packs up his sparse belongings, hops onto the next bus out of there. ]
Where's that leave us?
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[ one she doesn't have an answer for — not right now. her house isn't anywhere near livable yet, but...what if it's isn't truly salvageable? the damage may be so thorough that she'd have to completely start over, and...she can't afford that.
possibly the worst realization of being faced with the rebuilds is that it's all expensive — and what usable funds she has are fairly limited. ]
...but I may also find myself in need of something new soon enough.
[ it would break her heart to leave behind the house she and matthew built together. the time and energy and love that had gone into making it their home is not so easily disregarded, but she also can't guarantee she'll be able to afford repairing all that bogue and his men did in the process of trying to run them out of town.
a flicker of melancholy grips her, but it's something she refuses to betray on her face, instead continuing to study faraday. ]
I think that all depends on whatever becomes of...this.
[ she gestures between the two of them, then gently settles forward again, carefully rearranging herself to return her arms to his bed. it's comfortable to lean forward like this, and it sets off even more of that sweet, soothing warmth when she's close again.
lord, but it just feels nice to be near him. ]
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Feels nice when you're close.
[ Something he would've been too ashamed to voice, were he not doped to the gills, but it seems so easy to express now. It's as much an answer to her unspoken question as it is an admission – he finds himself begrudgingly appreciating the benefits, even if he's still terrified by the weight of it. His eyes slip shut, and he enjoys that warmth as much as he can – a feeling so alien to him until recently. ]
Don't— don't much like when you're gone.
Doesn't feel— [ he struggles for the word for a few seconds and settles on ] —right.
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It surely doesn't.
[ her voice is soft, a little tentative about her honesty, but...she can't really deny it (not without outright lying).
hesitating, she has to steel herself before she reaches out. the fact that he isn't looking at her, that his eyes are closed, makes it a little easier for her to lightly rest her hand on his, and it— makes her stop. it's different from the fleeting contact they'd had in the middle of the fight (which in itself had been intense and with so much pain between them, hadn't fully allowed anything else to seep through). it's a rush of— wholeness and sensation and she feels like she's been wrapped in the softest, warmest blanket imaginable.
her breathing catches, and all she can manage is a soft exhale: ]
Oh.
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Nnh.
[ His fingers twitch against the sheets before his hand turns up to hold hers, though his grip isn’t quite as sure or quite as strong. She could easily pull away if she wanted, though he hopes she doesn’t. His mind feels sharper, even as their bond dulls the edges of his discomfort, as his focus hones in on this, on this single point of contact.
God, it’s good. How have they kept themselves from enjoying this all this time? ]
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this is why the concept of soulmates has survived through the ages.
feeling so whole and complete and near perfect is a different kind of newness. it's like everything had fallen away in the world until it's just the two of them.
and strangely, she isn't bothered that it's the two of them. she doesn't feel self-conscious about sharing this intimacy with faraday, of all people (though perhaps that's just buried under these sensations?). ]
This is...
[ actually, she doesn't even have words for this. ]
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Knowing how this feels, he’s not sure if he has strength enough to give it up.
So even if Emma doesn’t complete her thought, Faraday still nods his agreement all the same. Offers a vague sort of, ]
Yeah...
[ Though that leaves them no closer to naming whatever this sensation is.
His fingers twitch against hers – would grow tighter, if he had the energy for it, but this, for now. This is enough. He forces his eyes open, even as that peace tries to draw him back into sleep, and the corner of his mouth twitches up a little. ]
Guess this ain’t so bad, after all.
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[ in fact, it's good. she feels so intensely relaxed in a way she's never managed in the past, even with matthew — which is indicative of exactly how much faraday affects her.
she brushes her thumb gently across the back of his hand, relishing in the prickles of sensation in her skin, in her mark, and just— in her. it's like a part of her has finally meshed with something she's missed, and that something...seems to be the man laying opposite her in the hospital bed.
through the link, she can feel how sleep pulls at him, how exhausted (but clearly relaxed) his body is. ]
You can go back to sleep, if you need it. I'll stay put.
[ if he wants her to. if he doesn't, she could come back at another time (as much as she doesn't want to break this connection). ]
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Please.
[ Little more than a whisper, but with an earnestness he’s rarely (if ever) used before today. Another barely-there squeeze of his hand against hers, as that sense of comfort drifts over him, warm and thick like blankets on a winter evening.
Exhaustion isn’t new – not since he’s been lying in this bed, hooked up to all manner of machines. Now, at least, he has that sense of ease, of serenity to smooth away the grating edge of it, to soften the pain that slips past the effects of the painkillers. Sleep quietly claims him again, and he relaxes, body turning toward her ever so slightly as he drifts off. ]
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(because she certainly needs it.)
unfortunately, it's only a couple hours later before a nurse is coming to check in, to let her know that the window for visitors is nearly closed. emma's about to protest, but then she quickly realizes that, in the eyes of the hospital, it isn't her place to stay. she isn't faraday's wife, isn't family at all, so she inevitably has to step out.
...as much as she doesn't want to.
reluctantly (oh-so reluctantly), she gets to her feet, tentatively prying her fingers away from faraday. she doesn't want to disturb him, what with how badly he needs the rest, but she does pause for a moment.
with his eyes still closed, she's bold enough to lean over—
—and press the softest of kisses to his forehead. ]