[CLOSED TO FOX] A welcome visitor

[tacticalmind]

Oh fuck. He was awake again. He knew he was, because the feeling like he had been hit by a bus was back. The beeping too. Maybe slightly faster than he remembered it from last time. He had to blink a few times before he could get his eyes to stay open and with that became an awareness he had a tube up his nose. His hands and arms felt sore and

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[shoothetarget]

Fox had been watching over Rob since they let her in. Sitting in the chair by his bedside, her eyes not leaving his face. She took in every beep, ever change in his features. For long while she was starting to wonder if she'd been imagining the changes because she wanted him to wake up.

As he groaned, she leaned forward, and slipped her fingers around his hand. "Rob?" she said softly, her head tilting as she waited to see if he'd open his eyes. "Rob, it's me... I'm here."

[tacticalmind]

Rob wasn't sure at first if he imagined or not. Maybe just hoped for it. He opened his eyes groggily and turned towards the voice, finding Fox sitting there. "Hey," he murmured breathlessly, breaking into a smile. He managed to squeeze his fingers softly around hers. "See? I didn't stand you up, just fashionably late."

[shoothetarget]

Fox smiled a little before dipping her head to kiss the back of his hand. So far they hadn't said Rob was contagious, so she didn't worry about contact. "Yeah, I see. I'm glad you could make it."

[tacticalmind]

"Me too," Rob agreed, something akin to fear lingering behind words. He also hoped he could stick around for the ride, too, although there hadn't been a lot Amber had said to reassure him. The conversation with her was a little hazy in his head now. He must have passed out again.

And then it was like he had so much to say to Fox all of a sudden, but when he tried, the words seemed to catch in his throat, and he let out a deep breath, frustrated at himself. His grip tightened on her hand. "I'm scared," he found coming out instead, shocking him. He never said those words. Not to anyone, not in the most horrific battle of the war, those words had never exited his lips, until now.

[shoothetarget]

"Me too," Fox admitted. Wesley was aware of her fear, even if she had never said the words. She glanced outside the room to see who was paying attention before she moved onto the bed next to him. Her arm rest across his pillow as she rest her chin on the top of his head. She was hoping like hell he wasn't about to seize, because she was pretty sure the doctors would throw her out, and not let her back in if Rob hurt himself.

But surely being with him like this for a few minutes wasn't going to hurt? She'd move when he was asleep again.

[tacticalmind]

Rob closed his eyes and turned his face in towards her. He rested his hand on her stomach, refusing to let himself analyse this for the moment. He didn't care what it meant, he was just glad she was there. "I remember," he told her in a hoarse whisper. "I remember that you stayed."

[shoothetarget]

Fox wasn't really giving much thought to why she wanted to comfort him like this, other than she figured it was better than him being alone. Her hand curled, her fingers brushing at his hair. The corners of her mouth kicked up a little. "I thought you were going to forget." She looked up at the ceiling briefly. "I sung Hendrix. That night you were drunk... I sung Hendrix."

[tacticalmind]

Rob's hand tightened around her stomach and he gave a small, breathless laugh. "This must be serious. I didn't think I would ever get you to admit that," he told her, but a smile still played on the corner of his lips. "Did you go for a classic, or or one of his less popular tunes?"

There was another paused as he wet his dry lips and struggled with his breathing a little. His chest was painful, in fact, everything was painful like he had been stabbed all over with a hot poker. "I sent you flowers. They're probably sitting back on the doorstep of your room. I... ordered them from the florist last night. All assuming I haven't been unconscious for a week, in which case, you probably have a miserable dead mess on your doorstep."

[shoothetarget]

"I'm telling you because you have to promise you'll remember. If I keep telling you things, then you can't give up. You can't let this beat you since I don't sing Hendrix for just anyone." Her other hand covered his, fingers splayed over the back of his wrist so she didn't interfere with the IV line. "Classic. It was 'Hey Joe'."

Her fingers dug into his skin slightly as she waited for him to start breathing again, a moment of fear gripping her. "You were puking your guts up and stopped to send me flowers?" she asked, almost incredulously. "It hasn't been a week. It has just been one day. Almost. I'll make sure I go rescue the flowers so I don't have a dead mess."

[tacticalmind]

"Good choice," Rob told her with a weak smile, moving his hand to her hip, which was about as much of a hug he could manage right then. "I'll remember. I promise. Another hitch in the road, yeah? I didn't get through a court-martial for this. We've got fucking on my bed roll to do."

He put his hand up to adjust the oxygen tube near his ear. It was digging into him, but it was probably just because he wasn't used to it. "It was a long night. I missed you," he explained with a hint of a shrug. "Figured you might need a change of scenery after the Willy on the willy."

[shoothetarget]

Fox kissed a spot just on his hairline before she moved her hand further up his arm to return the hug. She didn't mind the attempt. She just figured if they stayed in contact, it meant he was okay. He had to be okay. "Just tell me when I can start shooting the fucking hitches instead of standing around uselessly. I think we're going to have a lot of things to do by the time you're clear."

She moved down a little to bring her gaze level with his and a smile tugged at her lips. "I spent most of it thinking about you. About what we could have been doing. Although, I guess if you were sick, we might not have done very much... I could have been there, though. At least sooner. I would have preferred staring at your dick all that time, flowers might have to be a substitute."

[tacticalmind]

"I think maybe shooting the hitches this time means shooting me." Rob tried to clear his throat, but there wasn't much point now. His breath just continued to make him feel like he had overdone it at a marathon run. "One of the doctors said I might've gotten this in Iraq. Or maybe not. Some other people are sick here too with the same shit. Poor bastards. I'm waiting for someone to say the D word."

He reached up and touched her hair with a smile. "Unfortunately, I was okay up until bed time. I wasted a good three hours watching a crappy Eighties movie on TV, trying not to shove my hand down my pants. I would have had no objections to you staring at my dick."

[shoothetarget]

A frown crossed her features. The thought of shooting Rob something that she didn't like. She'd rather shoot herself again before shooting him. Although the stray thought did enter her mind that it would be the humane thing to do if he was going to die slowly, and painfully. She pushed it aside almost immediately. He wasn't an injured horse. "I got told they didn't know what it was. Just that it's serious. They'll never say the D word in front of you, not without certainty."

"Why didn't you shove your hand down your pants? It's not as if you can't take care of yourself while I'm not around. Even if I might prefer taking care of your needs." Fox pushed her fingers through his hair and kissed his cheek. "You should rest again. Keep quiet so you don't struggle breathing."

[tacticalmind]

Rob didn't want to admit how weak he felt. It was like admitting defeat, which he wasn't ready to do, either. "I'm not afraid to die, I just really would rather it wasn't like this. I feel like a failure," he mumbled.

"By this point, I was kind of hoping I could convince you to drop by after your job, so I was saving myself," he explain with a small laugh. "I fell asleep, though. I felt so tired. I didn't even think much of it. I woke up a bit later in a wet mess, and not the good kind, then again soon after and that's when I really started to feel like shit. I thought it was food poisoning. Deluded much? I didn't want to be sick again. I just wanted to... not be this. I wanted to have fun with you."

[shoothetarget]

Her thumb brushed against his cheek, and she looked at him. She understood how hard that was for him to say, especially considering she'd find it just as hard to ever admit to something like that. "You're not a failure, Rob. You have to understand that. None of this is your fault."

"We can have fun. We will have fun. You need to understand something else... I'm not going anywhere just because you're sick. I'm not going to fuck off because you're not one hundred percent. If you think that about me then I'm... I'm sorry."

[tacticalmind]

"Yeah, I know, I just..." Rob chose not to elaborate. He didn't really know what his point was. "Could be worse. Dying on a tropical island can't be so bad, yeah?"

He shook his head against her shoulder. "I don't. And I don't want you to think I do. It's not even that I don't want to be weak around you, I just had this whole other ideal sense of what we should be doing right now on in general and it didn't involve me throwing up like there was no tomorrow. It more involved me being the hot mysterious soldier and pounding you into the sand repeatedly, then going back to my room and doing it slow, but still hot, mind. Then maybe getting dinner, and talking some more. Then walking along the beach, or getting rough on the shooting range when you beat my ass in a shoot out comp. This wasn't... I just... I guess I had ideals. Nice shit. Shit I missed out on, but you make me want all over again."