[ 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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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.
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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." ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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?
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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?
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
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. ]