Processing
Title: Processing
Rating: pg
Author: marzipanilla
Notes: akachankami made me do it. Well, they asked and then my muse smashed me in the back of the head with a mallet so that toasters danced before my eyes. Emo ones.
Sequel to The Cure.
-
"I was called Daniel."
The steady whir and beep of machines answered him. He heard the bed next to his creak, and his eyes turned, hopeful to see hers; only to realize she had turned her back to him. Her arm was at an odd angle so as not to jostle the IV line placed there, prompting him to look down at his own.
After hooking the both of them up, Cottle had retreated to his office with a bottle of whiskey. Bill doubted the doctor would be able to function in the morning.
"After my brothers started disappearing, I was hidden, name changed." He continued, regardless of the sensation of speaking to an empty room.
Her voice cut across to him unexpectedly, "are you expecting sympathy?" The venom in her tone was tempered by its nasally quality- she had been crying.
"No." Bill squeezed his hand into a fist, sending his blood to her faster. It had to be processed by a machine first. He supposed it was his own romantic notions that had conjured up the image of his blood, pure and untainted, traveling through her veins to heal her.
"Then shut the frak up." Her voice cracked.
Rating: pg
Author: marzipanilla
Notes: akachankami made me do it. Well, they asked and then my muse smashed me in the back of the head with a mallet so that toasters danced before my eyes. Emo ones.
Sequel to The Cure.
-
"I was called Daniel."
The steady whir and beep of machines answered him. He heard the bed next to his creak, and his eyes turned, hopeful to see hers; only to realize she had turned her back to him. Her arm was at an odd angle so as not to jostle the IV line placed there, prompting him to look down at his own.
After hooking the both of them up, Cottle had retreated to his office with a bottle of whiskey. Bill doubted the doctor would be able to function in the morning.
"After my brothers started disappearing, I was hidden, name changed." He continued, regardless of the sensation of speaking to an empty room.
Her voice cut across to him unexpectedly, "are you expecting sympathy?" The venom in her tone was tempered by its nasally quality- she had been crying.
"No." Bill squeezed his hand into a fist, sending his blood to her faster. It had to be processed by a machine first. He supposed it was his own romantic notions that had conjured up the image of his blood, pure and untainted, traveling through her veins to heal her.
"Then shut the frak up." Her voice cracked.