Red Means Dead

Addict

I lie in bed watching him sleep. He's stretched out mostly on his back but his upper torso is twisted toward me so his arms are stretched over the edge in my direction. His face is relaxed in his slumber and he looks years younger, like when we first met and he only had some of the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was just getting over his divorce at the time, when all he thought he had left were the bones in his body.

I've always avoided that nickname for that reason. I didn't want to constantly remind him about that feeling and time in his life.

I don't know why it causes such an epiphany to see him lying on the bed beside me. The bed beside mine had been mussed every morning since the Incident because he had been sleeping in it but somehow I think I already knew that. Why he does it is still a mystery. Maybe he was merely waiting for my breakdown and thought it may come at any time of the day or night.

Sighing, I realize how rested I finally feel. Even though it has been a few short hours since Kokinda's accident, I feel I slept better than I had in a week. It must be the release of emotion. Or perhaps I really am a moth and McCoy is my flame.

There's still this strange gray area between us, or at least there is on my side. As much as I want to think of him as a good mate I can't help but wonder how much of the last week was due to him feeling the same or due to his amazing doctoring efforts.

Of course, I've only been a shell of my usual self these last few days. He didn't seem to mind, though, always right there with me, keeping an eye turned my way. This was surely more than what he'd do for others, right? Why did it matter, though? Why do I care?

He starts to move and I roll over on my back, shutting my eyes tight; I don't want him to know I've been watching him, thinking about him. I'm being silly, really, I know that but it was my instant reaction and I can't go back now.

Quietly, he clears his throat and there's a shuffling noise as he sits up on the edge of the bed.

I can feel him watching me and he does it for quite some time, long enough to make me want to squirm. I steady my breathing, counting to three before each breath as I wonder what he is thinking, what expression covers his face. When he finally does climb off the bed, he steps over to me and brushes a hand across my forehead. The gesture is so comforting that I sigh and open my eyes to watch him, giving away my thin ruse.

"'Morning."

"G'day."

"How did you sleep?"

"Good, actually."

"I'm glad. This was the first night you didn't call out in your sleep for Mei. I—I hoped you were sleeping better for that reason." He brushes my forehead a few times. "I'd love to stay but there's an officers' meeting. Jim doesn't expect you there so you can just settle back down." He pushes against my shoulders as I had started to get up. "Just take it easy and do your therapy. Maybe we can walk to the rec. levels later and relax."

"I'd like that, I think."

A warm smile brightens his face and he brushes my cheek with his knuckles, tweaking my chin before doing it again. He opens his mouth to say something but stops himself, pursing his lips for a moment before saying goodbye and taking his leave.

Alone now, I lie contemplative, touching on memories I've been too nervous to revisit, both the good and the bad. The factual report had forced me to relive all the horrifying moments, of course, but I could be clinical with that. Now my shell has cracked, my gooey inside is on full display and somehow I feel stronger for it. There are still memories that I skirt away from, ones far too painful that cause a cold sweat to bead up on my forehead but I'm better today than I was yesterday.