Thanks, hon! :D I was really surprised when that bit me. :p
As for your ficlet, I must have really been bitten by the angst bug today. Go figure.
* * *
Sitting with her back to the window and ignoring the warm afternoon sunlight pouring in behind her, Diana cradled nearly-lifeless fingers in her palm, stroking them absently with her thumb. She couldn't take her eyes off the man in the hospital bed, looking so much smaller than she knew him to be as he slept. Only the constant working of the IV machine and the slow, shallow breaths he took gave her any sense that time was passing as she waited for him to wake.
He shouldn't have been here. It shouldn't have happened. She should have kept him safe during the battle, kept him out of harm's way when things got intense. But she hadn't, the smoke too think to be seen through without special vision, the melee to chaotic to cut through in time. And Steve had fallen.
Two days and one terrifyingly long surgery later, here he laid, more or less comatose as he recovered.
Diana couldn't forgive herself. Wouldn't. Not as long as Steve slept, his face swollen, bruised, and bandaged, his left leg in a long cast. No. Not as long as he suffered for her negligence, for her not being there when he needed her....
Lost in her self-loathing, she barely registered the moment his puffy eyes opened, blinking blearily. Gasping at the sight, she sat up straight in her chair by the bedside. "Steve?" she started cautiously, her heart leaping in her chest.
A shaky breath in. "Angel?" he rasped, his voice rough from disuse and dehydration.
"I'm here, my love, I'm here." The knot in her own throat threatened to become a full-blown sob, and she swallowed it thickly, squeezing his fingers gently in one hand and smoothing down his bed-mussed blonde hair with the other.
"You're... safe," he sighed slowly, a small, relieved smile moving over his face. "Thank the Gods."
In that moment, the bulk of Diana's anger at herself dissipated, her mutual relief and her love for her pilot winning over despair. "I'm safe, love," she assured him quietly. "Rest now. I'll be right here."
At his silent nod and continued weak smile as he shut his eyes again, Diana finally saw the brilliant sunlight streaming in around her.
You've really spun a wonderful story here. Diana and Steve's love shines through like the sunlight at the end.
Poor Diana would beat herself up at Steve's falling in battle. You captured both their personalities very well, her guilt and worry and his worry that she might not be safe.
As for your ficlet, I must have really been bitten by the angst bug today. Go figure.
* * *
Sitting with her back to the window and ignoring the warm afternoon sunlight pouring in behind her, Diana cradled nearly-lifeless fingers in her palm, stroking them absently with her thumb. She couldn't take her eyes off the man in the hospital bed, looking so much smaller than she knew him to be as he slept. Only the constant working of the IV machine and the slow, shallow breaths he took gave her any sense that time was passing as she waited for him to wake.
He shouldn't have been here. It shouldn't have happened. She should have kept him safe during the battle, kept him out of harm's way when things got intense. But she hadn't, the smoke too think to be seen through without special vision, the melee to chaotic to cut through in time. And Steve had fallen.
Two days and one terrifyingly long surgery later, here he laid, more or less comatose as he recovered.
Diana couldn't forgive herself. Wouldn't. Not as long as Steve slept, his face swollen, bruised, and bandaged, his left leg in a long cast. No. Not as long as he suffered for her negligence, for her not being there when he needed her....
Lost in her self-loathing, she barely registered the moment his puffy eyes opened, blinking blearily. Gasping at the sight, she sat up straight in her chair by the bedside. "Steve?" she started cautiously, her heart leaping in her chest.
A shaky breath in. "Angel?" he rasped, his voice rough from disuse and dehydration.
"I'm here, my love, I'm here." The knot in her own throat threatened to become a full-blown sob, and she swallowed it thickly, squeezing his fingers gently in one hand and smoothing down his bed-mussed blonde hair with the other.
"You're... safe," he sighed slowly, a small, relieved smile moving over his face. "Thank the Gods."
In that moment, the bulk of Diana's anger at herself dissipated, her mutual relief and her love for her pilot winning over despair. "I'm safe, love," she assured him quietly. "Rest now. I'll be right here."
At his silent nod and continued weak smile as he shut his eyes again, Diana finally saw the brilliant sunlight streaming in around her.
They were both safe.
Thank the Gods.
* * *
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Such beautiful angst, Saavi!
You've really spun a wonderful story here. Diana and Steve's love shines through like the sunlight at the end.
Poor Diana would beat herself up at Steve's falling in battle. You captured both their personalities very well, her guilt and worry and his worry that she might not be safe.
Your Muses sure are back! :)
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Hooray for the return of the muses!!! \O/
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