Nocturnal Gale

Chapter 20: Sick Of The Fight

Dusk sits next to the couch on the floor, exhausted and worried. She'd helped Chance wash and bind Shade's leg and other wounds, and splint his ribs. Thank goodness they hadn't punctured a lung, but it had been a close gamble. Shade shouldn't have had to walk the eight miles home. An hour after they had got back, he had had two terrible coughing bouts that had lasted minutes at a time, and there was some blood. But he had finally calmed down and was able to rest. She found it morbidly hysterical how they always switched places, over and over again. One of them got hurt and the other nursed him or her back to health, and then the other way around. Over and over again. The cycle never stopped. But they had each other and that was enough.

Dusk sits there lost in thought, not really noticing that she's still dirty and bloody from battle. She's too exhausted to move at the moment. She can't sleep either. She just sits there in the dark, listening to Shade's labored breathing. Thankfully, he's asleep. Restless, but asleep. It had taken awhile, but when everyone else had left for their respective rooms, she'd sat down next to Shade on the couch and held his hand, lightly stroking his hair away from his face over and over again until he'd finally drifted off.

Dusk sits there and remembers, listening and remembering, then slowly drifts off herself.

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Dusk wakes up suddenly and looks at Shade. His breathing is still labored and he's still asleep. He looks a little calmer.

Dusk sighs. The half-light of morning slowly creeps back into the room. It's going to be a cold, stormy day.

The other Deadliners slowly come out one by one. Grief hangs heavy in the air. Dusk just continues to stare into space, waiting on Shade. She barely even registers her hunger and thirst. Noon comes around, and he's still asleep.

Someone moves over to the window and Dusk looks up from her brooding gaze. It's Sheridan. She stares out the window, over the catwalk, and onto the opposite rooftop.

Suddenly, Shade is awake and coughing again. He gasps for air and starts to choke. Dusk scrambles up and grabs his arm, helping him turn onto his side. She watches him carefully, hand steadily grasping his arm. It takes a few minutes before he finally gets his breath back and stops coughing, hair soaked in sweat and face pale. There's no blood this time. Dusk breathes out silently. He's healing. Good.

Shade looks at her with tires eyes. "Throat hurts," he manages in a whisper.

Dusk shakes her head as she rolls him back over and lifts his shirt up to check his ribs. "Don't talk."

"First time anyone's had to tell me that," he replies. He wants to make her smile and she does despite everything. A huge weight lifts off of her heart. He's well enough to joke.

She feels Sheridan at her back. "Sheridan, can you get some water?" she asks her, moving on to check Shade's leg, which is swathed in several layers of bandaging and propped up on the armrest of the couch. It looks much better. She changes the bandages and takes the glass that Sheridan hands her a second later, thanking her with a nod. Then Sheridan helps her lift Shade up far enough so he can drink.

He settles back down and looks at Sheridan, eyes just as intense as ever. "You all right?"

She gives him a faint nod and a smile. "I'm fine."

Shade's gaze lingers on her for a little longer, knowing it's a white lie, but then lets it pass. He turns to Dusk. "And you? Did you get hurt?"

Always her big brother. She shakes her head.