bloodyrockgod | (no subject)

(no subject)

Charlie sits by Bartleby side again. He's opened the blinds and the window enough to let in some sunshine and air, and he sits by his side with a hand in Bartleby's hair, just stroking it gently. He's fed and washed and manipulated Bartleby's limbs a bit, and he can't think of anything more to do.

So he strokes Bartleby's hair and hums a bit, his eyes closed.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The pain's gotten a bit less, is the first thing Bartleby is aware of consciously thinking. It only feels like he's bruised all over now, instead of the sheer wall of torment that faced him the last time he was conscious.

He flutters his eyelashes open for less than a second, but the light stabs at him.

Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be . . .

"Remind me to find some songs for Isabel and Warren's wedding," he murmurs without opening his eyes. "I keep forgetting. So much else to think about. And Nick wants a song for Alex."

He smiles and the song changes. Lovin' a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be . . . oh girl, you stand by me . . . I'm forever yours . . . faithfully.

There's... something. Sounds. That's what they are. Bartleby doesn't dare to open his eyes again, but his mind clumsily searches for the connection between the sounds and what might be out there.

"There's new songs for you to hear, you know," he says, though he's said it before and Bartleby hasn't so much as twitched. "Both of them for you even if I gave one of them to someone else. And I'm not singing them until you open your eyes. No, really. I mean it."

He makes an attempt at moving a hand.

He looks at Bartleby, notices the sunlight slanting across the bed, and gets up to draw the curtains closed so the sunlight doesn't shine in his face. He leaves the winodw open, though. It helps clear out the sickroom smell.

"Spring," he observes. "Most of the snow has melted. It's all slushy out, there. Makes running even more of a challenge."

Bartleby slits his eyes open slowly, just a crack.

Charlie starts up. His voice trembles a little, and he pitches it lower than he had been when making conversation to keep himself company. " . . . B?"

Bartleby doesn't exactly reply. It's more of a harsh croak than a reply.

"Oh my god," he babbles, "Bartleby, baby, it's okay, you're home, you're safe, let me get you some water. Water, yes." He rushes to the bathroom and pours a cup, spilling most of it down his shirt as he rushes back. He works an arm gently under Bartleby's head and lifts him, and holds the glass to his lips, just enough to wet them.

"Let me know you're in there, love."

The words are slowly working their way through into Bartleby's brain, and... it's Charlie. He smiles without even realising he's doing it.

"Oh," he whispers, "yes, baby, you're home safe. You're at Milliways. I've got you." He kisses Bartleby's forehead.

"Hurts."

"What hurts, love?" He puts Bartleby back down, handling him with even more tenderness. "Where does it hurt?"

[ooc: camp has made me brane-dead. *so.tired*

can we slowtime? which is gonna put you in an awkward position if you want to play tomorrow, because obviously C'll be wanting to talk about it, but... *puppydog eyes*]

[ooc: of course. I can hold off tomorrow until we can continue, I'm sure.

sleep tight.]

[ooc: *loves you and the boys*]

[ooc: *smooch*]

He knows the answer to this one. "Everything."

"Oh . . ." He takes his hands from Bartleby's hair. "Baby. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Let me get you a healer." He bends to kiss Bartleby's forehead but stops himself--he doesn't want that to hurt him.

Things are slowly filtering through. He must be in Milliways, and Charlie is there, and... "Wings?"

Charlie's lips tremble a moment. "They're gone, angel."

"Yeah. Chose."

"Chose? What did you--never mind. Later. When you're stronger.

"Do you want a healer, love? What can I get for you?"

That's far too complicated a question to. Bartleby closes his eyes again and coughs.

This time Charlie does kiss his forehead, lightly and carefully. He lifts him again and holds the glass of water to his lips. "Drink. Just a little. Rizzo's been bringing you soup, he'll be here soon, we can get some nourishment in you.

"You're going to be okay, love. I promise."

Bartleby allows a little of the water to trickle into his mouth. "Tired."

"I know." He lays Bartleby down again and fluffs the blankets over him. "Rest a little, and I'll try to find someone to look in on you." He kisses Bartleby forehead again. "Close your eyes. I won't be far."

Bartleby lets himself start to slip loose frrom consciousness. But there's something. Something important he has to say. He sucks in a breath and panics a little. What was it?

"Rest, love," Charlie murmurs soothingly. "Just rest. You can tell me everything later. I've missed you so much."

He remembers. "Love you." And he slips quietly away.

Charlie can't speak for a moment, then whispers thickly, "I love you too, angel."

He waits until he's certain Bartleby is sleeping again, then scribbles a note and runs down to the bar long enough to drop it off.

That done, he sits at Bartleby's side again, ready to keep vigil for as long as it takes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only