Command Me To Be Well [Completed]

21 - Hold my beer

He's lying on a hospital bed. He's on sedatives. He's unconscious.

Yet he somehow manages to look menacing.

Yet, and it's even more strange, he's still the one I want.

It's so evident.

The moment I step into his room, and I see him, lying face up, broken but breathing, it becomes evident. When I sit by his bed and touch his hand, first time in months, it becomes undeniable, too. I'm still not sure if it's good news or bad news.

I'm waiting patiently for him to wake up. While he's passed out, I use the time to get acquainted with his new face. The right side is covered with burn scars. They are still bright red. They will fade with time, but never will disappear.

I trace them with my finger. He wears one of those uniform-like hospital gowns, but the scars probably don't stop politely at his neckline. Probably his full body is covered with them.

I shrug. He can't see it, so I don't need to be delicate about it. And I'm free to touch him too, he can't protest or try to scare me away. Not as if he'd succeed with it again if he tried. He's alive. He's breathing under my fingers. Everything is good.

I'm ready to fight him to get him.

When he finally opens his eyes and notices that I'm there, he tries to sit up. Of course. It wouldn't be him just to lie there, showing his belly. But he's too weak for it. I prop his head up with a pillow.

For a minute, he just stares at me. Then he opens his mouth. He closes it. Opens it again. Clears his throat. Still not quite in hero mode, but doing the best impression he can.

"Am I dead already?" he asks, after careful consideration.

"No, baby." I caress his hair. "No such luck. You're alive."

It takes some time to sink in. When it happens, he closes his eyes, and he refuses to look at me again.

"I'm alive too, in case you're wondering," I inform him. "Alive and kicking."

"Why are you here?" he asks me, still with eyes closed.

"I came to see you," I answer, boldly letting my palm wander to the side of his face. He winces, pressing his lips into a thin line.

"Am I hurting you?" I ask him, but I don't stop caressing him. I know I'm not. The scars are fully healed. On his face, at least.

"Yes," he whispers, sounding as if he was in pain indeed. Worse than he felt when his injuries were fresh, and his life was hanging by a thread.

"Just bear with me." I shrug. "It will go away soon."

"You should go away," he says, opening his eyes, finally. They are as inhuman as ever. "You shouldn't have come here at all."

It doesn't sound like a statement. It sounds like a command. He's not able to keep his head straight, but he's definitely able to stare me down and give me commands. He's so ridiculous. And I love him so much.

"I happen to know that you wanted me to be here," I tell him, looking him deep in those transparent, piercing, adamant eyes.

It's a bluff, of course. But he has no way to know it. I'm a Seer, after all.

"But you told me you couldn't use your skills for—" he bursts out, gasping for air.

I don't answer. All I could do is lie. But my hand never leaves his face, not for a second.

"I'm sorry," he sighs. "I didn't mean it."

"What?" I ask gently.

"I never wanted to blackmail you into coming here and care for me," he says, in all seriousness. "I didn't do it on purpose."