Without You

25. Ain't Giving Up On You

A/N - It feels good to finally have reached the SNT finale - thank you for sticking with this story despite its long-windedness! It's over 75K words already! Hopefully this chapter is OK, as I'm not sure I'm happy with it. But what on earth is going on - this story has now reached #2 in the rankings for the #Antanddec tag!!! Thank you so, so much, everyone!!! And a special thank you to the lovely kashariak for her fabulous super sleuthing skills (and by the way, if you've not discovered her stories yet, get yourself over to her page - you won't regret it!)!! 💖💖💖

Dec squinted against the bright sunlight, massaging at his temples as he collapsed into the chair set up for him backstage. Gratefully accepting a proffered water bottle with a halfhearted smile, Dec chugged down the water, ignoring the burn of the cool liquid as it flowed down his throat. Grabbing a discarded sheet of paper lying on the floor by his feet, Dec folded it in half and started using it as a fan, trying desperately to cool himself down. He was so hot he felt like he was going to melt, perspiration trickling down his back between his shoulder blades and pooling at the waistband of his white trousers. Why did it always have to be so hot here in Florida?!

He had to admit the sun wasn't doing his head any favors. He'd been doing fairly well most of the day, but now a corker of a headache was rapidly building thanks to his having to look straight into the bright sunlight. This was going to be a fun show. Letting out a heavy sigh, Dec took another swig of water and closed his eyes, resting the palm of his hand over his face to shield his aching eyes from the unrelenting sun. Jumping violently when a heavy hand came to rest on his shoulder, Dec's eyes flew open, the sudden invasion of bright light sending a vicious stab of pain through his skull which had him slamming them shut again with a stifled moan.

"You all right, there, Dec?" came a concerned voice, prompting Dec to slowly crack his eyes open, shielding them with his hand. "I'm fine, Alan," he replied lightly, giving a reassuring smile. "The sun's just givin' me a bit of a headache is all..."

Alan Conley regarded him gravely for a moment before shaking his head sadly. "You really need to take better care of yourself, you know, Dec," he remarked, prompting an annoyed eye roll from Dec, adding, "You've barely looked human these past couple weeks. Goodness knows how you're carrying on the way you are. Lemme get some paracetamol for ya – it'll help take the edge off at least."

Dec nodded, sighing, "Thanks, mate." Closing his eyes again, Dec leaned back in his seat, just taking a moment to breathe. The show was going well so far...or at least it seemed to be going well...he just had to keep the forward momentum going now. And he really, really hoped Ant was watching...If he wasn't, this whole show – everything they'd worked on over the past week – was wasted. Yes, they'd had to produce a show anyway, and of course they had to put together a big production for the finale, but he'd tailored this show specifically to Ant as much as he possibly could. Secretly, he was hoping a text from Ant via Linda would be coming in later this afternoon, but he knew that was a slightly unrealistic expectation. Still, one could always hope, right?

Clambering down from his chair, Dec took the paracetamol tablets Alan placed in his hand, and then strode back out onto the stage with an energy he didn't really have. The commercial break was nearly over. It was time to perform again. Putting on his professional smile and squaring his tense shoulders, Dec got into position, ready to go live. Only another 50-odd minutes of live air time to go....

~~~

Ant had managed to get his emotions under control, and was now nibbling on a biscuit, savoring the taste and smell of the home baked goods his mam and sisters had so lovingly prepared for him. He still wasn't quite sure how Linda had managed it, but he knew he was forever indebted to her. He could not ask for a better, more caring nurse.