He took in a shaky breath. It was starting to get harder to breathe due to lack of energy.
At least this wasn't the slow death he'd experienced when he was younger. He'd been snatched away from the end by a man who no one would've expected to show such a mercy to anyone. Now, however, it didn't seem like the last-minute rescue was coming.
"Don't make...a promise you..." He took another breath. "...you can't keep."
"I can! I already did! You'll be f-fine!" She chocked on the last part. There was too much blood. Think, Holiday. Think. He can't die here.
She put as much pressure as she could on the wound, practically pushing him to the ground.
Her eyes closed when she felt something hot go across her cheeks. She just opened her eyes again, ignoring the tears. She had more important things to do.
She rubbed a shoulder against one of her eyes. "I'm fine," she chocked forcefully.
This wasn't good. This wasn't good. It was far, far too much already. She knew what was going to happen. She knew it. She could practically see it. Even she was shaking too much already.
She rubbed her face against her shoulder again to clear her view. The tears wouldn't stop.
His touch made her look from the injury and the blood, back to his face again. She could hardly see a thing, but she could see him. Dammit, Six, she's trying.
"I'm fine," she said again, more gently this time as she wiped her face with the other shoulder, "See?" Tears spilled over again, but she didn't let it stop anything. "You'll be fine, too. We'll be alright."
Now, she was only trying to lie to herself. She knew.
He'd never been one to contemplate what happened when a person died. Was there really a Heaven and Hell? If there was, he'd probably end up in the latter option, unable to ever rejoin his loved ones. Or was it simply a black nothingness? The option of oblivion wasn't too reassuring.
"Six," she tried to gain his attention. She tried to wipe away her tears one more time, always failing. "Listen. No matter what happens, you will be fine. You will be alright. I know you will, no matter what." She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, when she realized her promise took on a new meaning. "I promised, remember? I promised."
He'd listened to soldiers confess on the battlefield just before they'd died: regrets, secret affections, anything and everything they'd never had the courage to say out loud to anyone.
Yet he swallowed what he wanted to confess most to her. How unfair it would've been to tell her that and then go. She deserved to have the opportunity to move on. If his silence could give her that, he'd take his secrets to the grave.
So instead he looked at her, wanting to wipe away her tears and lacking the strength to do so.
"This isn't right. This just..." She tries to clear her eyes again, trying to look at him a little better. "You'll be alright," she said again, "You'll be alright." She couldn't do this. She couldn't hold up with all of this and she couldn't break in front of him now. She tried taking a few deep breaths. It wasn't working.
She shook her head again. "I can't-... I love you... I can't-"
He wished she hadn't said that because it made him want to tell her that he felt the same. Or at least he was pretty sure he felt the same. He'd only felt this strongly about two other people in his life yet he'd never been able to put it into words.
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At least this wasn't the slow death he'd experienced when he was younger. He'd been snatched away from the end by a man who no one would've expected to show such a mercy to anyone. Now, however, it didn't seem like the last-minute rescue was coming.
"Don't make...a promise you..." He took another breath. "...you can't keep."
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She put as much pressure as she could on the wound, practically pushing him to the ground.
Her eyes closed when she felt something hot go across her cheeks. She just opened her eyes again, ignoring the tears. She had more important things to do.
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"You're crying."
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This wasn't good. This wasn't good. It was far, far too much already. She knew what was going to happen. She knew it. She could practically see it. Even she was shaking too much already.
She rubbed her face against her shoulder again to clear her view. The tears wouldn't stop.
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"None of that," he scolded gently.
His hand flopped back down as it became difficult to hold it up.
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"I'm fine," she said again, more gently this time as she wiped her face with the other shoulder, "See?" Tears spilled over again, but she didn't let it stop anything. "You'll be fine, too. We'll be alright."
Now, she was only trying to lie to herself. She knew.
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He'd never been one to contemplate what happened when a person died. Was there really a Heaven and Hell? If there was, he'd probably end up in the latter option, unable to ever rejoin his loved ones. Or was it simply a black nothingness? The option of oblivion wasn't too reassuring.
"I'm scared," he admitted softly.
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He will be. He will be fine. He had to be. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here."
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Dammit, he couldn't die like this.
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Yet he swallowed what he wanted to confess most to her. How unfair it would've been to tell her that and then go. She deserved to have the opportunity to move on. If his silence could give her that, he'd take his secrets to the grave.
So instead he looked at her, wanting to wipe away her tears and lacking the strength to do so.
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Her thumb absently rubbed against his cheek. He was going to go and every single second she spent being a doctor meant nothing. "... I'm sorry."
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It was getting so cold. Hadn't it been warm today? Why was it so cold?
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"This isn't right. This just..." She tries to clear her eyes again, trying to look at him a little better. "You'll be alright," she said again, "You'll be alright." She couldn't do this. She couldn't hold up with all of this and she couldn't break in front of him now. She tried taking a few deep breaths. It wasn't working.
She shook her head again. "I can't-... I love you... I can't-"
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"You can't what?"
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