Adieu

Until Morning (Dezmond)

Nervous laughter spilled from lips that bore an equally nervous smile, her catching onto the fact that dreams absolutely don't explain that they are in fact a dream. Regardless, his only hope in the moment would be laying her to rest, and hoping when and if she wakes up he'll simply be a lucid memory. "O-of course I know what you look like crying, I'm a part of your subconscious. As a part of you, I naturally don't like it when you cry." Dezmond was barely managing to dig his way to a proper excuse, not exactly wanting to make her feel like she was insane but also not wanting her to know he actually existed up until she was ready to see him.

Helping her to her feet, he'd feel the clammy skin of the sickly girl more clearly than he ever had before. With her hand in his own, things felt all the more wrong, as she was definitely not supposed to be able to feel him, let alone see and hear him. Even though it was wrong, by the time she was actually to her feet he'd keep his arm available for her to lead her safely back to bed.

"This can't be a dream,"

As much as Dezmond wished it were, she was right on the money. Even as he helped her into bed, and brought the covers up and tucked her in himself, he couldn't help but be afraid. Many times int he past twenty three years he'd longed for the ability to do this, to take care of her, as it's every Angels dream to finally be there for their obligations. Though this was reserved for the day they bring them to their eternal rest, it wasn't supposed to be any sooner. So while he was enjoying being able to personally tuck her in, he knew it wasn't right. Especially when she spoke yet again, her final words before slipping back into unconsciousness sending a shiver up the panicking angels frame.

She was right, though.

Angels weren't made to lie, and never in his many years had Dezmond ever told one. Who would he possibly lie to, anyway? No one was supposed to even be able to hear him, and there was nothing to ever lie about when talking to one of his brothers or sisters. Here he was, slipping into human behavior in a sloppy attempt to cover up what was clearly not supposed to happen. It's as he looked down to the now asleep Michayla that he realized how much easier it was to lie to her than to tell the truth, but what would he do if she awakened and nothing changed? What if he was still there.

Giving a quiet sigh, he'd move back over to the armchair that he'd more or less claimed as his own over the past few years only to plop down and sulk to himself. Before making any drastic decisions, he'd first have to see if things were different when she awakened, so for now he patiently remained with his eyes never leaving the slumbering Michayla. This would also be what she'd wake up to see, unfortunately for them both.