I Just Want To Go Back

Introduction

I watched as he panted and woke up to only groan, lean over the cot, and throw up into the bucket. A faint whimper escaped his chapped lips as he collapsed on his back, desperately panting for air.

"Mmm..." I jumped, surprised the sound came from him. My fingers slipped his leather book shut, knowing he couldn't see from where he laid, but hiding it, nonetheless. Lead seemed to weigh down my feet as I made the small walk over to the cot last as long as six steps could.

Wordlessly, I sat down, his head resting in my lap. A teasing 'You need to shower' played on lips as I fixed his hair, but I refrained. Now wasn't the time for it. "Wil," My sentence remained unfinished.

Tired, pained eyes met mine as I looked down at his face, droplets of sweat covering every shiny inch, concentrating in his eyebrows and his hairline. He looked so helpless. Gently, I bent down to grab the towel from the bucket of water that sat at the head of the bed. I wrung it out, sighing softly when I saw that his eyes were closed, and I gently draped it across his forehead. He flinched, his eyebrows knitted together. A small grunt came from his throat, but his chapped lips remained unparted.

"You're going to catch a cold like this."

"Mmm..." The sound he made was soft like a whisper.

"Will you at least let me take off your shirt? It has to have been irritating your skin. That's not really the best material to sleep or move around in." There was a moment where I thought he was going to refuse, but finally he nodded his head a little.

I undid the collar, seeing the redness and marks it had left on his throat. Immediately he gasped, taking in much deeper breaths. Next, I unbuttoned his shirt, carefully taking the drenched material off his skin. I almost had his shirt off when I realized that I'd forgotten to undo his cuffs, so I did that and finally got it off. Not knowing where to put the shirt, I put it beside me, above where his head normally laid. Now I looked at him. His wrists looked just as bad as his throat, but the rest of his chest was just mildly irritated and red.

It looked painful as I watched his chest, glistening with sweat, rise and fall. "Stephen told me that your throat would probably hurt a lot from all your throwing up and gave me some tea. It might take a while, but I could get that for you." He nodded very eagerly and I finished, knowing the second part might be the deal breaker. "The downside is that I'd have to leave you alone." There was a long moment of silence as he contemplated, his eyes still shut. He turned his head to the side where he would be looking at the desk if his eyes were open. My heart rate spiked, but I quickly calmed down when I'd realized that his eyes remained shut. He nodded a little, and I stood, carefully placing his head back on the cot. Before I left I dunked the towel back in the bucket before wringing it out and placing it back upon his forehead.

Then I left, glancing back at him before closing the door. I cannot think poorly now. That time passed long ago. This was the time for unwavering hope. Not Wil. Please, please, not Wil. I beg of you.

My legs seemed to move on their own as I dragged myself up the stairs. I put on my coat before going out the door. The salty sea air filled my lungs as I took in a deep breath. Every time I'm in there and come outside it feels like I haven't breathed this air in years.

For a moment I stood still. I jumped the short distance to the ladder before climbing to the Pier. Once at the top, I pulled my collar up and put on my gloves. The fog clung to my coat and hair. Pushing foreword, I walked down the Pier, knowing everything despite only seeing the occasional orange glow of a lantern.

My gloved fingers ran through my now wet hair, neatly slicking it all back, minus the strand that always fell forward. Picking up my pace, I finally reached the squeaking plank where I turned on my heel, and entered through the door. The smell was a particular one that was impossible to place. It wasn't all the smells at once. You'd focus on the herbs, then the smell of old books, then the smell of saw dust, then salt, then a metallic scent that you could almost taste.

A tall man in a long coat walked out of the back room. He had an edge that made him stand out and his hands were more slender, built for more careful and precise things. His hair was very curly, something I'd never seen before, but he assured me was normal where he was from. His eyes were the color of coffee beans. His skin was darker even though no sun shone here. He was different than everyone here. The way he carried himself held it's own mystery. One could wander about this man and his origins for years and come up short of any answers.

"Stephen," As he approached, his scent of leather and the salty sea air filled my senses, blocking the other scents of the room. "I need the tea... Wil needs it."

"How is he?" His voice was raspy. He sounded like no one from here.

"He is worsening. Wil has not been able to move from the bed. He's in and out of consciousness. He's drenched in sweat at all times. I don't even think he feels the wet towel. He only wakes to throw up. I don't know why it isn't effecting me. Is he dying, Stephen?" The words seemed to fly out of my mouth, my heart racing.

"Calm down, Quin-"

I was quick to cut him off. "Do not call me that."

He nodded and restarted. "My apologies. Calm down, Castillo. Wil is very ill, but we know not what is the cause of this illness. We should not be so prepared for the worst. He drank some today, yes?" I nodded. "Good. Wil is weak..." I opened my mouth in defense, but he shook his head. "He is weak right now, that is true. Until we know more, we can only help him feel better. Now, earlier you claimed he was having dreams and he said these were the cause?"

Quickly, I nodded. "Yes. I don't understand exactly why."

"What are the dreams like? Did he tell you?"

"He did, kind of? He said the took place different than here. I know not what that means, and he refused to give me a straightforward answer. He went on and on about all these strange things. I didn't understand any of it."

Stephen was thinking. He wore gloves that didn't cover his fingers which I found so intriguing. I looked around his shop as I waited. Finally he spoke. "Take this to him." He handed me a block wrapped in paper and tied together with twine. "Only use a little bit. It is very strong. He will not like the taste, but it'll make him feel so much better."

I took it with a nod. "Thank you, Stephen."

"When I am not taking care of miss Williams, I promise to come by to see him."

"I understand."

"She's starting to do better today. With any luck, she will be good as new by nightfall."

"It is foolish to attempt a concept of time here."

"That is very true, but alas I still try."

"A mundane task, really."

He smiled and nodded. "I wish you a successful trip, and Wil a quick and smooth recovery."

"Thank you, once again." I opened the door to leave.

"It is a pleasure to help. Watch out, the tide will rise quite a lot today. I fear it my get above your dock."

"The water worries you too much. It is just salty water. It cannot rot away the sturdy wooden structures we all live in."

"Perhaps. Just don't go down to your dock today then?"

"I will not make any promises, but I will refrain from doing so today as much as possible." And I left, making my way back home, going down the ladder, hopping to my entryway, and entering the house.

I made the tea and headed downstairs where I placed it on the desk, waiting until Wil awoke. My legs slipped under the table as I sat down. I took off my gloves and coat, setting them down beside me. The book seemed to call me as I slipped open the pages with my fingers.

The scrawled writing that met the page with intensity and urgency drew my attention most, but I refrained, starting at the beginning where the words seemed to bounce. He was so happy and curious here. What happened?