Old Habits

Conor: under the weather

Conor

I woke alone for the first time in months. I didn't know what time it was, but there was light coming through the curtains. It was probably morning, based on the birds I was hearing. I sat up, assessing the damage. My body ached in a way it had not yesterday. I felt thirsty and tired, even though I knew I had slept for hours. My arm was swollen where Stefa had bitten me.

I decided to pull my clothes off and shift, hoping that I would feel better for doing so. Shifting hurt, but I managed to shift back into human form before Tish came into the room. She frowned at me as I stepped into my pants.

"Your bruises aren't healing," she said.

"But my arm isn't broken anymore?" I offered. "Where did you sleep?"

"On the couch. You were taking up the whole bed."

"Sorry," I said, grabbing my shirt to pull over my head.

Tish wrapped me in a hug and sighed, her head resting against my chest.

"I was worried," she said. "I'm still worried about you; you don't look well, Conor."

I agreed; I still didn't feel like myself. I let her pull me out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where Mike was making breakfast. Stefa was sitting on the couch with Jackson and they were flipping through channels. It felt oddly normal.

"Holy shit, Conor, are you okay?" Jackson questioned.

I didn't think my appearance warranted that, but looked down at my hands. I seemed a bit pale, but I hadn't lost too much weight. Shifting always cost me more pounds than I wished it did, but I had shifted too many times yesterday.

"Just sit down and eat some breakfast," Tish insisted. "Come on."

I sat tiredly and let her smother me with attention, eating the bacon and eggs as told.

"So what's the plan today?" I asked.

"To let you get better before we go anywhere," Tish said promptly. "And then we'll pile in and head to Montana. So relax, nothing is happening today that isn't you eating your body weight in protein."

"Okay," I yawned.

I could tell that the others were all concerned. I tried to ignore the worry and focus on my bacon strips.

"Have we heard from Mel?" I asked.

"No, I haven't called," Tish admitted. "I was going to wait until you were feeling better so you could talk to her as well."

"I don't want her to worry," I countered.

"I've been texting her updates; she knows what's going on," Tish said. "Sorta." She grimaced. "She would have called if she was really worried. So there's that."

Even Stefa was looking at me with a little worry. I didn't like that everyone seemed to think I looked ill.

"I'll be fine," I insisted. "Everyone can stop hovering. Let me eat and rest."

"Conor, you're as pale as Jackson," Mike told me. "I don't think you get a choice about our worrying for you. Eat, please."

I did not think I was as pale as a vampire, but kept my opinions to myself. Tish was frowning at me in a way that made me think she was never going to let me leave her sight again. Jackson scoffed and turned back to the television, putting on arm around Stefa like proving to me that he could. At least he was helping take care of her now.

"So what are we planning to do today if we're not leaving?" I asked.

"We're going to make sure that you're better and then call Mel," Tish said. "We'll make some regular looking meals that Stefa will help us with since neither of us cook very well. We'll clean the car so there's not just dried blood all over Jackson's leather seats, and..."

"Thank you," Jackson cut in.

"Because I don't want to sit in blood anymore," Tish countered, rolling her eyes. "And we'll take a bath and we'll go to sleep and you'd better stop looking like a ghost between now and then."

I finished my plate of eggs and showed it to Tish who tsked at me still and took the plate to the sink. Mike was washing the dishes. There were chocolate cupcakes on a plate as well as snickerdoodles and oatmeal raisin cookies. Stefa must have baked through the night.

I felt dizzier than I wanted to admit when I stood, but Tish was by my side in a second, taking one of my arms and laying it over her shoulders.

"Can we sit on the porch?" I requested. "There are those two chairs out there."

"Please don't wander off," Jackson told us.

"Sure, pretend we're the problem children," Tish scoffed. "One of us didn't fall down a trap."

"Even so."

I remember that he was worried we had been followed, but decided Tish and I could talk about it when we were outside with a little bit more privacy. It didn't help that everyone had supernatural hearing, but we could pretend it was more private.

"You look worse in the daylight, Conor," Tish told me, though not as a reprimand but as a worry.

I sat down in the chair and sighed. "The last time I was dosed with vampire blood I was only sick for ten minutes," I said. "I don't feel like I've turned, that would be absurd."

"You wouldn't be eating or shifting if you had turned," Tish agreed. "You also lost a lot of blood yesterday. I'm sure that didn't help your ability to heal. You pushed it way too far yesterday, Conor."

"I know," I sighed.

"You can't keep doing this," she continued. "Every time there's a crisis, you throw yourself at it like you're the only one who can solve the problem, and then you burn yourself out. This is exactly what happened in Chicago, only at least I was there to catch this act before you starved to death."

"I know, Tish," I repeated.

"Then start acting like you know," Tish told me. "Jackson is capable of handling Stefa. She may trust you more, but she's not your problem. I am."

"You're not a problem."

"No, you're right. When I have to nag you to eat food and tell me when you've broken your arm, you are the problem," she admonished. "So be better, Conor. Because if you get yourself killed over all of this, I shall never forgive you."

I leaned my head back against the rocking chair, already tired. Tish took my hand in hers and we sat on the porch together quietly. I watched my girlfriend stare out into the woods. Her hair was still not quite long enough for a ponytail; she had red pieces falling into her eyes. She wasn't showing her pregnancy much, but she sat a little differently, with her other hand on her stomach. She caught me watching her and smiled.

"I'm...not used to caring so much about a person," Tish admitted. "Grant never got these kind of lectures when we dated. So you're just not allowed to die on me, Conor."

"I won't," I said. "And I'll try. I get caught up in the moment and there hasn't been anyone to really pull me back."

"I will," she told me. "Always."